low ceiling

30 years ago, we were somewhere. The problem was, I wasn’t exactly sure where we were, except that our altitude was about 700 feet above the ground and we were skimming the bottom of an innocent-looking, solid cloud cover which could very likely cause our deaths. Since we were miles and miles from civilization and not on anyone’s radar at that altitude, I was doing some serious sweating.

We had taken a little trip in the single-engine plane -- a weekend and couple of days to a remote location. It had been ‘one with nature’ time, away from phones, tv, and people. Recharging the batteries with good food, great sex, and no worries had been the plan and it had been smooth sailing until we met this grey overcast on our way back.

There were worries now. My navigator, Miss Greatest-Sex-I’ve-Ever-Had, was supposed to be keeping track of where we were so we could put down if the ceiling descended any lower, not to mention keeping track of all the metal towers scattered out and about, willy-nilly, hither and yon. And some of those towers were higher than 700 feet.

I hadn’t been too worried until I asked her how much farther we had to go to waypoint ANW. “Hmmm ... actually, I don’t know,” she had casually replied, “I can’t tell where we are.” Great, just great. “But,” she had said, “if we have trouble we can just land in one of these fields down there.” So sayeth Miss Pilot who has zero hours fly-time and no idea of how deadly landing in a plowed field would be. “But I’ll figure out where we are, don’t worry.”

No problem, I won’t worry. There are only tall towers out here, uneven ground with hidden arroyos and creek beds, and a plane that is going to need gas pretty soon. No, I don’t mind not knowing our location and not having alternative landing options.

Sheesh! Why was I worried about dying? My navigator was already dead. Brain-dead, anyhow, and how had that happened? She had said she KNEW how to read a sectional chart. And I knew she wasn’t dumb, but that wasn’t going to make me feel better if I found myself in front of the Pearly Gates.

Okay, okay, I’m not being nice, but it had been a pretty frightening 45 minutes. We finally made it to a small airport where we got gas, had lunch, and took off into sunshine a little later. Really I guess she wasn’t too dumb -- the following year she married me.