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The spring expedition to Blue Ridge Mountain to search for the lost C-46 Army Transport airplane started on March 28, 1997. The first trip to the Mountain consisted of a scouting trip to learn all that we could so that on May 17, 1997 we could successfully locate the resting place of the airplane. The weather leading up to that date had been rather cold and wet, but when Friday rolled around the forecast was for clear skies and 70 degree temperatures. The team left Syracuse at 6:00 a.m. We met Paul Dubay at the Utica exit at 7:00 a.m. and continued north on route 8 toward Speculator, N.Y. As we started north, the snow accumulation started to grow. Arriving at Speculator at 8:00 a.m., we headed north on route 30. We were looking for a trail on Jessup River Road, but we did not know if the snow cover would conceal the opening of the road.

I knew we were getting close to the location when we passed the rock formation shaped like a pig's head, just a little further north and we would be there. We passed a unmarked road, but wanted to continue north to make sure we were at the right place. Three miles north was the entrance of Lewey Lake State Park, and we knew we had to turn around. We turned the three car caravan around and parked at the side of the road. We got out of our vehicles, packed up, and started down the trail.

At first it was hard to find the trail, but with the help of the Magellan GPS we found it. I (Mark Barbour), and a friend Michael Powell were using cross country skies, and the others, Dan DeVoe, Lynn Hammond, and Paul Dubay, all used snowshoes. As we got on the trail, we quickly found the snowshoes were the way to go. The rolling terrain along with the trees made it very difficult to make much progress. Mike had difficulty with the snow, & I had a mechanical failure with my skies. We both had to turn around.

The rest of the team continued and got about half way to our goal. They got as far as the Miami River, which we will have to cross to climb Blue Ridge Mountain. We are planning on using a tyrolean traverse (a static rope with a pulley,) and pull ourselves across the river when we go back. Our next attempt will be on April 12, 1997. We hope to get to the top and locate the lost plane, but know that every advance may also bring its setbacks. It may take a series of attempts to scale the mountain before we are successful. We are trying to avoid waiting until we are forced to wait until fall to search for the plane. Our window of opportunity is limited to a few short weeks in the spring when the snow is gone, but the foliage and bugs have returned. We hope to make every opportunity to go up the mountain.

APRIL 12, 1997

EXPEDITION #2

The weather forecast for Saturday, April 12, 1997 was bleak. The rain and snow were supposed to start falling at 2 a.m. in Syracuse, and we figured that the bad weather would follow us up to Blue Ridge. As I waited for my wife Theresa to get home from work at 1:30 am, the sky was clear and the stars were out. I knew then I would be able to make the trip up to the mountain. 4 a.m. rolled around far to quickly, and I hurriedly packed for the trip. Out the door at 5:15 and on the thruway. I live about 2 blocks from Rt. 81 which leads to the thruway. I was still tired, and missed the entrance to the highway. Great, if I couldn't find Rt. 81, how could I find a lost C-46 Army transport on top of a remote mountain. A slight U turn and my journey continued. Exactly at 6:00 I met the rest of the crew at the Rome exit of the thruway. Paul Dubay, Frank Rinaldo, a barber at the Rome Air Base, and Nathan Purling, an M.P. who worked with Paul. We were anxious to get to the mountain so we talked for a few short minutes, and continued up Rt. 365. Frank decided to ride with me, and away we went.

It didn't seem to take long to reach Jessup River Road, our starting point for the mountain. It's about 10 miles north of Speculator, N.Y. on route 30. When we got out of the car we were surprised how hard the snow had gotten. Only a short two weeks earlier, the snow was soft and an inch off the trail would cause you to sink to your hip in the snow. We all brought snowshoes, but decided to leave them in the car to conserve on our weight load. We got all packed up, refreshed our course, and headed down the trail. Once on the trail we looked for a marker that would start our journey. We located the orange trail marker and noted the position on the GPS (global positioning system) at 43 deg 35.890 N by 074 deg 25.615W.

We started down the trail, marking our way as we went. It didn't take long to reach the Miami river, however it took the next hour and a half to get across. We went up and down stream to find the narrowest crossing place. Frank found a beaver dam and got across. There was several dead trees that we found that we made a makeshift bridge out of. One to walk on, and another to hold on to. One false step and in the river, and possibly the end of the day. Luckily we all made it across easily. Once across we started up the ridge towards our goal. It was not long before the Miami river was far behind us. The slope was gradual and eventually we made our way to the Callahan river. The map showed one branch of the river, but in fact their were several branches along the way. We knew for the best path up the mountain we would have to go between the Callahan and Freemont Rivers. We crossed the Callahan easily. The stream was only 3 or 4 feet wide, and we picked an easy place to cross.

We continued up the ridge. We found birch trees that entire poster size pieces of bark was hanging off. We wanted to leave a message for the next group who would pass, but knew it would never survive. Paul lead most of the way, Frank marked the trail, Nate was carrying a lot of the gear, and I was navigating with the GPS. We walked up a bank, and broke for lunch. This would be a real treat. My first MRE (meal ready to eat). Mine was pork chow mein. It came complete with noodles, life-savers, chocolate covered cookie bar, cherry drink mix, and tabasco sauce. It was not bad. As we sat around, the silence was intense. You could hear the rippling of Callahan River. Up stream you could see Dubay Falls, a beautiful clear falls that dropped about 10 feet. The water coming out of the river was sweet and pure. Possibly no other person has been in this spot in 52 years since the original search team. Their treck was filled with the urgency of reaching the plane to recover the bodies of the pilots. Our journey was filled with the raw beauty of the area.

We did not linger too long during lunch, we still had a long way to go. We took a position fix and headed back up the mountain. By this point my feet were getting pretty wet. My brand new hiking boots, although very comfortable, and waterproof, had snow falling in through the top, then melting and going down to my feet. I had stepped in the Miami with one foot, so it was about time to change socks. I found a nice tree, where we rested for a few minutes. I am not clearly in the best shape of my life and this climb was getting more difficult by the foot. I could go a short way, a hundred yards or so, then had to catch my breath. If I had not named the ridge we were climbing, "Barbour's Ridge" I surely would have turned back a hundred times. It was certainly mind over matter as we continued. I did not know if I would be able to make it to the top or not, but my brain was in control, and my body responded.

The last quarter mile was the hardest. Time was running out. The group made a decision that we would have to turn around at 3:00 no matter what. By 2:00 we still had one quarter mile to go, and our progress was about 1/2 mile per hour. We continued. Paul from time to time would say he saw the crest of the hill. We never believed him, but it did lead some encouragement. We were only a few yards from the top when we saw our first bear tracks. The running joke at the office was the Yogi bear was living in the plane, waiting for us at the top. We never saw any other tracks all day except for some snowshoe rabbit ones. It was becoming a distinct possibility that a Adirondack Black Bear had made a den in the plane we were searching for. The tracks were less than 12 hours old.

A few yards further up the hill was the crest. From the top it was hard to describe the emotion. It truely looked as if we were at the top of the world. In front of us was the route the ill fated C-46 took just before the crash. In the distance you could see Snowy Mountain, Lewey Mountain, Cellar Mountain, and others. Behind us was Mason lake and Page Mountain. The slope on the other side of the mountain was about 60 degrees. There was no possible way down where we were, with the equipment we had. The clock struck 3:00 and we knew that our 5 minutes of joy would be replaced with the trip back down. At 3:01 the front which chased us from Syracuse finally arrived, and it started raining, and snowing.

The warm temperatures also caused the snow to become unstable. Nate claimed that he was able to find every pothole on the mountain. He and I would walk on the footsteps from Frank and Paul and the snow would collapse, and we would find ourselves up to our hips in snow. Literally hundreds of times we tripped or fell when the snow gave way. The walk was hard enough. My legs were burning and my body wondered how I could have brought it to such a place, but we had no alternative but to get down the mountain. If you were close behind another, as they grabbed a branch or tree, and let go, a shower would let loose and drench you. By this point I did not think I could get much wetter.

Our speed about doubled coming down the hill. There were places where we still had to go uphill to get across a ridge or stream. Any incline at that point was torture. The same rivers that we jumped across on the way up, I found myself stepping over, no jump left in my legs. We eventually made our way back to the Miami River. We wondered if our bridge would be slippery, but we actually had no trouble getting across. We were only about 1/2 mile away from the snowmobile trail, but every foot brought another fall. Eventually we reached the trail, and shortly later reached the cars. We left at 7:30 from the trail, and got back about 6:45. Almost 12 hours on the hill, but we not only survived, but reached our goal of the top of the hill. We need to regroup and see what we learned during this climb, so that the next one will enable us to locate the plane.

We were anxious to get to Speculator, to call home and get some real food. I'm glad none of the MRE's were pizza. About 10 feet down the road, I had a tire blow out. That was about all I could take. We jacked the car up, got off the lugs, but the aluminum rim was fused to the car. We were stuck. We loaded up into Paul's truck, and headed into town. We stopped at the "Pizza Crust", the best darn place in the whole north country. We told them of our plight, and they started calling everyone they knew. Then everyone they knew started calling around as well. The local garage was closed, and it looked like I would take my plates off my car and leave it there. Eventually the found a man who worked for the local ambulance crew. He came out with a sledge hammer, and with three wacks, the tire came off. His name was Spencer Tracy. I love all of the old movies, "Guess who is coming for dinner" and all, but I would have sworn that Spencer Tracy was dead. This Spencer Tracy is alive and well, and helping stranded folks in the Adirondacks. He accepted no payment except that if he ever needed help, we would return the favor.

This trip was very successful. Yes, we did not locate the plane.... yet, but we learned how to cross the mighty Miami River and the Callahan river. We saw the beauty of Dubay Falls, and Barbour's Ridge. We conquered Nate's Bridge and Franks beaver dam. Although I know if I had to walk another six inches I would not have made it, I was happy and proud we made it to the top. I know now that 2nd Lt. William R. Barohn, 2nd Lt. Charles G. Pate, and T/Sgt Edward V. Paska knew that we paid our dues that day on the mountain, and that we will not give up until we reach their plane and give them the homecoming in Syracuse that they deserve.

I hope that all those that will read this will gather some hope knowing that there are people out there that will not quit searching until the lost are found. The knowledge that you can keep going when you believe you can not is very empowering. I think that most people are stronger than they believe, and that they will bring themselves to the test to discover their true strength. I know that God was with us on our journey. The sky was blue, and the mountain was forgiving. If one of us had gotten injured, it would have been a long way back down. I think that next time we will find the plane. It certainly is overgrown, but the straight lines of the plane will give away its resting place. The lost will finally be brought into the fold.

APRIL 26, 1997

EXPEDITION # 3

The weather forecast for today was for blue skies and a temperature of 60 degrees. I had a hard time sleeping overnight in anticipation of the climb. A good team was being brought together, and with what we had learned on our pervious two expeditions, we had an excellent chance of finding the plane. As I write this, possibly the only functional part of my body are my fingers, the climb, as I hope to describe took every ounce of energy to accomplish.

Today, the Caterpillar Club members comprised of :

This was an exciting day due to the presence of the newspaper staff. If all went well they would be able to share our story with the outside world. Our main focus has been to locate the plane, photograph the wreckage and bring that history back to Central New York. This way we could give a homecoming to the Pilots of the C-46, 53 years after they left the Syracuse Army Air Base.

We wanted to give ourselves every opportunity to be successful today, so the journey started out early. One thing we learned from expedition two was that we needed more time. Dan has always wanted to spend the night on the mountain, but I have three young sons at home, so the compromise was to get to the trail at daybreak, and spend every daylight hour looking for the airplane. My wife Theresa works late, and arrived home at 1:30 a.m. We talked until we went to bed at 2:00 a.m. I had a real fear of not waking back up at 3:00 a.m. I had from time to time turned off my alarm in my sleep, so I prayed I would hear the alarm. One hour, which seemed like 15 seconds passed and the alarm went off. I quickly turned it off, so not to wake the family, and went downstairs to get ready.

It is always hard to know what to bring on the trip. You need to balance what you might need with the weight of the pack. One of the most valuable assets in a climb this time of year is socks. If we walked in a straight line, it would be a minimum walk of six miles through mud, water and snow, so a change of socks is important, your best friend being your feet. So with that I wanted to pack 48 pairs of socks in my bag, but I settled for 6 pairs. The GPS (global positioning system) would be needed to get us close to the plane, as well as compass. Two large bottles of water, some snack food and dry clothing were all loaded. Total weight of about 30 pounds. It is amazing that I could believe I could carry a load of that weight for a 12 hour period.

Dan met me at a local gas station at 4:00 a.m. and Laurel and Tim were closely behind. We were to meet Paul and Tom near Rome, and Peter at the trail head at 6:30. As the convoy proceeded, and the road became bumpy, one needed stop was to be a restroom before we climbed up the mountain. We took back roads to save time and arrived in Speculator about 6:30 a.m. Most businesses were closed, but Paul s keen eyes spotted a place that was open. We talked for a minute had headed out. Much to my surprise, Spencer Tracey, who helped us on our last trip walked in. I again thanked him for his help with our flat tire last trip, and we headed for the cars. We made it to the trail head by 6:45 and started to get ready. I was excited because it looked like most of the snow had melted. We were able to drive up the road closer to our trail. The sun broke through the clouds with beautiful oranges and yellows almost to bless our mission. We decided not to bring the snowshoes, too much weight, and not enough snow.

We headed down the trail to the short trip to the mighty Miami River. We had been on this trail several times before, but somehow our trail from previous trips crossed, and we found ourselves on an unfamiliar part of the Miami. We were hoping to cross on a bridge we made last trip, but the high waters washed it away. We sent a scouting party out to look for a way across. One thing I did not want to do was loose time at this river. We decided to cross the Miami on a downed tree. We each took our turn walking on this slippery wood. A deep spot was next to the shore, so that our walking poles would not even touch bottom. That first step was a leap of faith, but shortly every member got across. The main fear was that someone would fall in. We all had cameras, and other gear we did not want to get wet. One fall in could have ended the mission. It was as if every obstacle was an exercise in team building and trust. When we had gotten across, we found no way to get across the several other branches of the Miami, so we had to cross back.

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Peter, decided the best way was just to wade across, but no one really wanted to. After wasting about an hour, we all came to the realization that it was the only choice. Paul went across after Peter, and Dan followed. I did not want my boots to get soaked, so I took them off, rolled up my pants and stepped into the icy Miami. The water could not have been much warmer the 38 degrees. One member said that at least the cold water made it so that you would not feel it when you walked on the sharp sticks. You could almost feel the ice forming in your toes. My reaction was a great scream to ease the numbing of the cold. The water was almost waist high. If you hit a hole, or fell, again the expedition could be over. The last two to cross were Laurel and Tim. I really thought they might not cross. I told Laurel that this story would win her a pulitzer prize, and much to my surprise they headed across.

I gained a lot of respect for each of my team members today. They shared my dream of locating this lost plane. If they had known how physically demanding this would have been, I don't know if any would have come, but each member showed grace and courage during our trip. We towled off best we could on the other side. Dan provided a shirt that we all used as a towel. We immediately had another short branch of the stream to cross. A four inch wide branch of a tree served as our bridge. We used our poles and a helping had of another team member and got across. About ten minutes after the water cross, feeling returned to the legs and toes and we continued. We hit snow immediately in the woods on the other side. I took a bearing with my GPS and we headed up. The walk actually was not too bad, and eventually got out of the snow. We continued up a path we had not taken before. Our progress was going well. Paul was the trail master and led the way. On the way up we saw large bear tracks. It almost seemed like Yogi (our nickname for the Blue Ridge Mountain bear) had tracked us down the mountain on our last trip.

This exercise is like being on a stair master for 11 hours. You get out of breath, become thirsty, and your legs are screaming at you to take a rest. We frequently stopped to catch our breath, and then continued on. We had to cross over and around many trees that had blown down in past storms. We had to navigate around rock ledges that were in our way. Eventually we arrived to the spot that would bring us to the ridge the plane crashed on. Our last trip brought us to the peak overlooking the crash site, but this trip we wanted to walk the exact spot of impact. As soon as we crossed over the south side of the mountain, to the northeast slope, we found ourselves in a lot of snow. Our progress slowed to a crawl. In many places on the way up we were post holing. Every step found us hip deep in snow that when we removed ourselves was a hole that looked like it was dug for a post. On the NE slope, not only would you go up hip deep, but some times you would go up chest deep. One time I was so deep I could not roll out or climb out. I used my walking stick to lay across the snow and lift myself out. We went as far as to the point where the C-46 should have been, but with 8 feet of snow covering the area, we all came to the realization we would not find the plane today.

Pete scouted ahead of the group, to the point where we lost contact. We were all cold and wet. We were on the face of the mountain where the wind was blowing. We wanted to head back, but could not leave until Pete returned. Our fear was that he had gotten in trouble. Yogi was certainly hungry, and Pete in shorts would have looked like a happy meal. But eventually Pete came back. Tom had fallen into a hole up to his shoulders, but eventually gotten free. We headed back. We could have gone up and over the Mountain, but we decided to back track down. It was not long before we saw bare ground again. It was a good time to change my socks. Ice had built up on my boots, and my ankles were packed in snow. I poured out at least a cup of cold water out of every boot. I rang out each sock, and my feet were purple. Some of the color was due to the red socks I was wearing. The long trip down would be difficult because we were all already exhausted. It certainly is mind over matter. Dan was telling me that to make it through, you have to go until you can't go any further, mentally and physically, and then keep going. I believe it is true that your body will keep going long after you mind wants to quit.

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We did get a chance to eat on the way down. Some of the members ate the MRE's (army meals ready to eat). My stomach was not feeling well, so all I ate all day long were nutrigrain bars and water. We also stopped on the way down to view the beautiful Dubay Falls, which we named for Paul on our last trip. Paul got a beautiful landmark named after him, and I chose the ridge we walked on to be named Barbours Ridge. I took that spot to remind myself of the total mental and physical commitment that it takes to climb the Blue Ridge Mountain. The way down seemed to take forever, and our reward at the bottom would be to wade back across the Miami. As soon as we arrived to the Miami, I decided that I was not going to waste any time. With a scream I jumped in and went across, boots and all. Actually the water did not seem so bad. After a few minutes the rest of the group followed. We still had about a mile of going through deep snow to get to the road where we were parked. Several times we got to the point of not being able to walk any more, but we did. The road was a beautiful sight. We got to the cars and changed into warm, dry clothing, and everyone felt much better. We hopped into our cars to head to the Pizza Crust restaurant in Speculator to eat some warm food, and to discuss the day.

After we ordered our food we all started to discuss what our next step would be. Paul has and official request from Maxwell A.F.B. for original aerial photographs of the crash site. We have a file folder which the information could be in, and possibly as soon as Monday, we will have the pictures. This would tell us exactly the location of the plane. Secondly, we are planning do do an aerial survey of the site. Several people have offered their planes to help with the search. We will probably wait a week or two to let some of the snow melt. We do have a short window of opportunity to find our plane. The buds are coming out on the bushes and trees at the bottom of the hill, and there is still eight feet of snow covering the crash site. This is why I am confidant not many other groups have located this site in the last 53 years. The trip is difficult and the climbing season is short. We still plan on doing our dedication on May 17, which would possibly be the next expedition. It takes at least two weeks to recover from the climb.

Every trip is a learning experience. We again conquered the mountain today, as well as our bodies and minds. The mountain also would not give up its secrets. Today each team member paid its dues in the search for the lost C-46. I do not feel bad for myself in not locating the plane today, but feel bad for my team members, who gave it their all, and to the three Pilots of the C-46 who I have promised I will take their memory back to Central New York. It could be the resting place of the plane will never be found, but if the sacrifice of the pilots can be shared with the community, that may be the best we can do.

MONDAY, APRIL 28, 1997

Today I decided that I would attempt to locate any relatives of the three pilots who crashed on Blue Ridge Mountain. With my internet access I decided to use the white page search function to look for people who live in the same town as the pilots did, with the same last name. I first started with William Barohn, from Erie, Pa. Although there were several Barohn's around, I located none in Erie. I then searched for Edward Poska from Hartford, but again no Poska's in Hartford. My last attempt was for Charles G. Pate from Pine Bluff Arkansas. To my surprise there were eight people in Pine Bluff with the name of Pate. I started my guessing game on who to call first, hoping to find a relative on the first call.

The first call led me to a gentleman who was not a relative, but referred me to a lady, Iris Pate, who had been a long time resident in Pine Bluff. The name was next on my list. I called Iris and introduced myself to her. I told her I was leading an expedition into the Adirondack Mountains to search for a C-46 airplane that crashed during WWII. The phone connection was poor, so I had to repeat my story again. Then Mrs. Pate stated that she was the sister-in-law of Charles who had crashed into Blue Ridge. Her husband Mason A. Pate was the brother of Charles Pate. Iris and Mason were stationed at an army base during WWII, and can remember vividly the day that they received a call that Charles was missing, and probably lost in that plane crash.

I went on to describe our expedition to search for the airplane, and to make a dedication to her brother-in-law and the other pilots who were lost in that accident. I told her that my dad, Breese Barbour was in the First Division during WWII, and in every major battle in Europe during the war. Dan Devoe's dad was also in WWII, and this was our way to thank all who have gone before us, risking everything, to secure our freedom. After I had told her this, Mrs. Pate was becoming very emotional. She told me that we would never know how much this has meant to her, that a team would be searching for that plane 53 years after it had crashed. I told her I would send her our expedition notes as well as the research I had gathered on the history of the plane.

After I finished talking to Mrs. Pate, I called Paul Dubay and told him of my discovery. He got almost as emotional as Mrs. Pate. We have worked very hard to locate the plane, as so far have been unsuccessful. We started to wonder if we were wasting our time, that no one would care about what were trying to accomplish. We discovered we were wrong, and that our story was meaningful to people. We hope this energy will keeping moving us foreward.

EXPEDITION # 4

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 30, 1997

I called Ed Trudeau today in hopes we could do an aerial survey of the crash site. The forecast was for sunshine and temperatures in the mid 70's. Ed agreed. Ed Trudeau is a former member of the "Boys from Syracuse, the 174", and when he heard of our search volunteered to fly us up to the area. We decided to meet at Sair, at the Hancock field at 3:30 P.M. and fly up to the site. Ed's plane is a Beechcraft, that would hold 3 average sized guys. I was not worried about the size of the plane, but the ride is nothing like a larger jet. I got to Sair a few minutes early and studied the pictures of old time aircraft on the walls. Soon Ed arrived, and we loaded into the plane. Another small plane was departing, as we walked behind. The great rush of the propellers hit me. It reminded me of the wind of a summer gale on Lake Ontario. To get into Ed's plane, you have to climb up on the wing, and walk on a narrow black strip that will support your weight. I carried three cameras, and my GPS so I had a lot of gear. I placed it on the seat behind me. I climbed in the seat and buckeled in. Next I put on my headset so we could talk in the plane and communicate with the tower.

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We closed the doors and started the plane. Ed yelled the "Clear" command and we started to taxi down the runway. It only took minutes before we were in the air. We followed the plane in front of us. The tower told us which way to go after takeoff, and which elevation to fly at. Soon we were up and flying over Oneida Lake. Soon after that Griffiths Air Base was in site. With my GPS on we were headed directly to the crash area. There was a haze in the air, so the mountains were a blurr in the distance. Our ground speed was about 140 mph so it did not take long to get to the Blue Ridge.

I knew where the plane should be on the map. The army was as descriptive as they could be, but still that was in a large area on the mountain. Up in the air, it was somewhat difficult to compare the features of the mountain with that of the map, but we able to spot the ridge we had climbed, now, several times. The only way to see what is underneath of you in a bottom wing airplane is to put the plane on its side and look out the window. We found a likely spot, and Ed started to circle it. We fixed our eyes looking for the wreckage. On parts of the mountain, there was no snow, but there was still a base of snow on this side. We could see some distinct features on the hill, but had to make several passes to examine them.

I was starting to not feeling very well. The "G" force from circling that area was putting my stomach into my legs. For Ed to get a better look, he would have to put the plane on its other wing, to give him a better view. So we continued alternately going clockwise and counterclockwise looking for the plane. Their was again just too much snow to spot the plane. We figured in just a week or two the snow pack will be gone, and we would have another attempt to search. Ed suggested that we turn back, and I did not ask for one more pass. Soon my stomach was again where God had intended it to be, and we were heading back to the airport. I did learn that the path to take was up the Freemont Brook. You could easily see the headwaters of the Brook, where the plane was said to be. There was a small saddle on the top that would make an excellent base camp. Our next attempt may prove to be successful with what we learned today.

We soon landed and I departed from the plane. Ed said that I saved him from a day of working on his yard. I thanked him for his help, and he offered to take my up again when the snow was gone. I was discouraged from not finding the plane, but confident that every learning experience is bringing us closer to the plane. Hopefully the contacts we are making will be the missing link in finding the plane.