Which Way To Albuquerque?

By Mark W. Danielson

Here’s a Wrong Way Corrigan story for you. Well, not Wrong Way, per say, but maybe Part Way. You see, the pilot of this bi-plane didn’t have much room to unfold maps so he made a strip chart – a map that covered his route, but little more. All was fine until an ominous cold front forced him to deviate off his chart. Now flying off memory and with a strong tailwind pushing him over Arizona’s mountains, he suddenly came upon an impenetrable gray curtain. Having limited fuel reserves and unsure of his position, the pilot was forced to land to wait out the weather.

The rain-soaked earth made a two-lane highway the only viable option. The bi-plane was seen making several passes along the highway before landing behind a large RV. The pilot then pulled his airplane off the road at the intersection of Marker 81 in the above photo. Now all that remained was waiting out the weather and getting directions.

One might think that a red, white, and blue bi-plane would attract attention, but in this case, it may as well have been nuclear waste. People stopped way up and down the road, but no one dared come near the airplane. Clearly, the denim-clad pilot was chilled by the seven thousand foot altitude. Two hours passed before he ventured to the ranch across the street. After parting cattle like Moses did the Red Sea, he found the house deserted and retraced his steps. Encouraged by a car that had stopped near his plane, he darted for his plane, flinging mud from his shoes, but ten yards short, the car took off like a frightened grouse. Gazing to the sky, the perturbed pilot contemplated his next move when he heard a pickup coming down the dirt road he had blocked. When the driver stopped, the pilot asked for directions to Albuquerque. Without hesitation, the dazed driver pointed toward a knoll. The pilot then thanked him, climbed into his plane, and took off. Fortunately, the driver’s sense of direction was right and I landed safely at my Alamagordo destination, a little south of Albuquerque.

This story is but one of my many misadventures in the airplane I built. My plane and I performed numerous airshows together, but one day we had to part ways so I could buy a house. I look back on this particular experience with both amusement and guilt because I was supposed to be a “professional pilot”. I’ve always wondered if the RV driver I landed behind ever met up with the pickup driver and shared a beer over this crazy experience. Looking back, I suppose that’s the best part of this story -- that I keep thinking about its ending. In that regard, it’s like a novel where every reader has their own take. Stories need that, for without that element, they may as well be text books. As for my lessons learned, I’ve never flown with another strip chart.