Relay-Version: B 2.11 6/12/87; site scorn Path: uunet!attcan!utgpu!news-server.csri.toronto.edu!rutgers!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!src.honeywell.com!msi.umn.edu!cs.umn.edu!sialis!rjg From: rjg@sialis.mn.org (Robert J. Granvin) Newsgroups: rec.aviation Subject: Finding N4988E (long) Summary: The Hunt for Red November. (Wanted deer. Got Cessna.) Message-ID: <212@sialis.mn.org> Date: Sat, 01 Dec 90 15:26:30 PST Organization: Dr. Ho Laboratory and Daycare Center Lines: 246 The following isn't _exactly_ appropriate for this group, but it is for the comments I'm hoping to receive. This is a draft of an article for a newsletter and to be submitted to a couple of other smaller publications who have expressed a possible interest (Mostly sports type, though ... Sigh :-). Anyways, while it's still in a draft stage, I'd like to get general comments back on it for anyone with enough Vivarin to get through it all. No specific questions on my part, I'll accept any feedback. Of course, there's the standard "copyright (c) 1990, Frozen Assets and Robert J. Granvin" notice splashed all over it. :-) Catch of the Season: Finding N4988E SMW CAF Col. Robert J. Granvin Mary Schweitzer-Burgmeier November 5th, 1990 was a day not unlike many others before. It was a quiet, comfortable morning when Herb Schauer, his nephew John Grove, and their friend Dick Armstrong headed out from their hunting lodge in Northern Minnesota. Nestled several miles down a private road near Island Lake and the Cloquet Valley State Forest, the area is always good for deer hunting. This is why the membership built their lodge here many years ago. This year they found the deer to be inactive near the lodge. Experience had taught them in years like this, to go to a place nearby which they called "The Big Rock." They always find good deer trails there. Hiking along the ridges, scattered amongst the beautiful blue- green spruce and pine trees, their blaze orange vests shone like a beacon against the marvelous fall colors on the birch trees. As they continued further along, they reached a place that was always dense with tanglewood and spruce. Thick with brush and treefall, they have always found the area too difficult to navigate, and never ventured in. This year, they found that the area was beginning to thin out. The spruce trees were dying due to a mud disease. Still difficult to travel, it had become easier. They considered going in. Herb didn't feel comfortable having to rely on the others to haul out his catch, so he stayed with his traditional areas. The others decided to press on and "go where the deer are." As they worked their way through the thick brush and trees, they found many deer trails and scrapes. Clearly they were going to find a catch worthy of the effort. As they pressed onward, Dick spotted in front of him a fallen birch tree, a small clearing, and well defined deer trail. Realizing this would make a perfect place to set up a deer stand, Dick headed toward the tree, to wait for an hour or two. He then realized that he was standing in a cedar swamp, and there should be no birch trees here. As he walked forward, he wasn't prepared for what he saw. What looked like a fallen birch tree was a float from a seaplane. As he quickly surveyed the area, he saw he was standing next to the wreck of a red Cessna 180 seaplane. Dick immediately called over his hunting partner, and they began to examine the wreck. The aircraft was nearly destroyed. The fuselage lay on its side, compressed into the marshy earth. The cabin nearly flat. The engine was buried two feet into the ground. The aircraft was half under water in the crater that it made on impact. The leading edge of one wing had impacted straight into the ground, and exploded into an uncountable number of pieces. The other wing sat accordioned on the ground, now only eighteen inches high. The ailerons still worked. The tail of the plane had wrapped itself around a tree. They went back to the fuselage and opened the passenger-side door; now facing skyward about waist high. They peered inside, and saw that nothing escaped the destruction. Only hollow tubes remained where the instruments had exploded under the force of impact. It was an eerie sight, as they saw that the seatbelts were still attached on all four seats. Yet no sign of bodies. They looked overhead, and saw that none of the trees were clipped or damaged. The spruce trees simply opened up, accepted the aircraft, and closed over it, hiding the secret of the crash. They decided to return to the lodge and call the sheriff, Jack Parcque, to report their find. They wanted to find something they could bring back with them as proof. It was then that Dick noticed the Emergency Location Transmitter (ELT) sitting next to the fuselage, in plain sight. It was as if it had known it was needed. The aircraft N number was still clearly visible on the stabilizer, but neither of them had a pen or pencil on them. Dick scratched the N number into the ELT with his hunting knife. As they walked back, Dick marked the trail while he was thinking about the aircraft. He was certain from the moment he saw it that he knew the plane. Ironically, nine years ago, he had been part of a search party looking for a Cessna seaplane that went down in fog. The plane, destined for Oshkosh, Wisconsin, was carrying a man, his wife and son, and a friend of the family. When it disappeared from radar, a search was started immediately. The disappearance of N4988E made national news for days. The Civil Air Patrol logged over 10,000 hours of air search. They obtained authorization to perform tree-top height air searches over the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, much to the consternation of the campers. They called in psychics, who `led us to Timbuktu, practically.' The search located many pieces of junk, and several cars, stranded miles away from any road in the Minnesota wilderness. For all their air and ground searching, they never found any sign of an aircraft. As they approached the lodge, they met up with Herb and showed him what they had found. Herb too, was convinced that this was the aircraft that had been missing for nine years. He wasn't at all surprised that a hunter found it, and that it was found in their area. He always felt it was nearby, but no evidence could ever be found. What struck him as ironic, was that for the last nine years, they had hunted along a ridge that passed no further than 300 yards from the wreck. When they reached the lodge, they found the sheriff was already there. This didn't surprise them, though, as he would occasionally come up to check on the hunters and visit. Today, he and his deputy were visiting the oldest member of the lodge when the three hunters entered and handed him the ELT. Excited by the find, he immediately called his supervisor on the radio who was in Hibbing at the time. He took the N number and called the Federal Aviation Administration in Oklahoma to obtain a confirmation that they had found the aircraft they had searched for every year since the disappearance. An hour later the FAA confirmed the N number, and the news was passed along to the sheriff. Sheriff Parcque's supervisor was too excited by the find to wait for a report, and obtained a helicopter so he could immediately go to the scene. Meanwhile, Dick and Herb led the sheriff and his deputy back to the site. Dick had already tagged many of the pieces of debris, but they continued to tag anything they could find. After a short while, Dick led the sheriff back to the lodge so they could guide the chopper to a safe landing. Herb and the deputy stayed behind for a short while, but decided there was little else they could do. The deputy immediately headed off into the woods, following the marked trail. With longer legs, he was able to clear treefall and brush easier than Herb, who tried hard to keep up. Suddenly the marked trail ended, and Herb didn't recognize where they were. Trying to find a beam back to the wreck proved to be difficult. By this time the chopper was approaching. The deputy made a call on the radio, for all to hear, that they were indeed lost. The chopper located them and guided them back to the wreck. They were subjected to various comments about requiring the use of a quarter million dollar compass. They started working their way out of the area again, but once more found themselves off the trail. This time, Herb was fairly certain of what to do. He took out his compass and headed due east, where they met up with a creek. Asking where they were, Herb informed the deputy `About 2,000 yards from where we should be.' They headed north to pick up a trail back to the lodge. Dick was later asked about his trail marking, and what it meant when he placed a ribbon on a tree. His answer was a calm `That's where I turn.' His system of trail marking was a very personal one. Returning to the lodge, they found that the media had been monitoring the radio communications, and were trying to gain access to the area. The members, not wishing the media to invade their privacy, kept them several miles down the road, outside the gate. The media had also learned about the arrival of a helicopter, and hired a seaplane which they parked on the lake. They hoped to be able to follow the helicopter to the crash site. `They just sat there and watched us with their binoculars until we took off,' said the sheriff. Herb asked him how he knew they were watching with binoculars, to which he replied `because we were watching their binoculars with our binoculars.' The chopper pilot was wise to the media, however, and made several wide circles to avoid guiding them to the site. For the rest of the day, the seaplane flew patterns overhead, but never found the crash site. The next morning, they woke up to the presence of the rescue squad, the FAA, and the coroner. Even the media had stayed, choosing to sleep in their cars. The rescue squad brought in several Cushman Crawlers. Being able to travel over almost anything makes them valuable tools. They also took out their industrial strength circular saws, and cut path into the crash site. This new path will undoubtedly be appreciated during next years hunting. Upon reaching the scene, the rescue units sawed into the fuselage and pulled back the skin of the aircraft. This provided access to the passenger cabin, allowing them to remove any remains. A veteran of several aircraft and warbird restorations, Herb couldn't watch as they sawed through good cables and sheet metal. Inside the water-filled fuselage, they found some clothing and personal possessions. Digging through the mud underneath, they began pulling up carbon-black bones. They had brought four bags, each marked with a number to represent the aircraft seat. As they pulled the bones out, they would determine what they were looking at, and place them in the appropriate bag. Herb described the condition of the aircraft as `looking like a compact car that hit a bridge abutment at about 90 miles per hour. It was really smashed.' The County medical examiner stated `The airplane obviously impacted at a high rate of speed. The individuals were instantaneously killed. The plane was completely compressed and torn apart.' The FAA came in next, wearing blaze orange vests, to perform their investigation. Their investigation of the crash was completed in the same day, but it will take several months before the cause will be determined. The aircraft owner also came to the site, an understandably difficult thing to do. Although the wondering and torment is now for the two families, the last chapter has yet to be written. A lawsuit has been filed in regards to the accident, but the details are unknown. The wreckage remains at the site, but all the ribbons marking the trail are removed so only the authorities will be able to find the area. Dense with tree and brush, the site is still not visible from the air. While this story is finished, there are still at least 30 planes missing in Minnesota that have never been located. Their final chapter has also yet to be written. Copyright (c) 1990, Frozen Assets and Robert J. Granvin. -- Robert J. Granvin \\\\\\\\ rjg@sialis.mn.org : INTERNET University of Minnesota \\\ ...uunet!rosevax!sialis!rjg : UUCP School of Statistics \\\\\\\ rjg%sialis.mn.org@nic.mr.net : BITNET "A witty saying proves nothing." -Voltaire