Really, I don’t even remember his name. But, he was a friend, and I had promised to take him on a plane ride around Catalina. It was September 25, 1978 and the sky was so clear you could see twenty miles in every direction, which, I might add, is unusual in Southern California. We climbed into the Piper Cherokee, PA-140, at the Fullerton Airport and off we went.
At the same time at Montgomery Field in San Diego, Martin Kazy and David Boswell were chatting about the unusually clear day. David was there to practice some instrument approaches and lamented that one should be able to look out at the beautiful San Diego hills and beaches instead of watching the needles dance on the instrument panel of his Cessna 172. But, such was the life of a Marine Corps Sergeant in training!
I flew over the coast in Orange County. You could see the pier at Huntington Beach and, even though we were at 2,000 feet, we could see the surfers and sun bathers staking out their territories on the beach. I climbed to 3,000 feet to ensure that I could glide back to the beach in case of an engine problem. Even at 3,000 you could see the Hollywood Hills and Mount Wilson.
Practicing instrument landings is not as easy as it sounds, especially at Lindberg Field, which is adjacent to the harbor, squeezed between the city center’s buildings to the south, the Marine base and harbor to the west, and densely populated residential areas to the north and east. Landing over, and seemingly through, the buildings from the south is always a thrill. Although, it wasn’t always fun as the Marine Sergeant and instructor were soon to discover.
I descended to 1000 feet when we reached Catalina, headed over the isthmus, watched the boats moored in the bay and turned left. The south end of the island’s white cliffs reflected the morning sun as we slowed to 80 miles an hour to take in the panorama. After twenty minutes of enjoying the view, I slowly maneuvered around an imaginary cloud and climbed back to 3,000 feet. I remarked to my friend that I could see all the way to San Diego.
It was a bump, then a crash, and a horrific plunge which preceded the death of the sergeant and the instructor. They had just practiced a missed approach at San Diego’s Lindberg Field when they collided with PSA Flight 182. At the time of the collision neither plane saw the other.
It was strange that on a clear day when you could see forever, a perfect day for flying, 135 people lost their lives when a Cessna 172 and a Boeing 727 collided in an open sky.
I still have a copy of the Aviation Daily that published the last 10-15 minutes of the cockpit voice recording. The conversation goes from chatting about insurance to the realization that they were going down. Thee last two comments were, “I love ya Mom” followed a few seconds later by,” brace yourselves.”
Gabe – Thank you for the comment! I wonder what it would be like in those last few minutes knowing what was going to happen! Take care! Best wishes — Bill —