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| Here's the photo of Tom Beltz, then age 14, with #205 sitting high and dry on the bank of the Susquehanna River |
Saturday, December 4, 1965, I was towed up to mountain level, and what was to be my most memorable flight since solo in October, a splash down.
Almost paralleling the mountain, a light breeze sustained me for two hours and forty-five minutes, from 12:00 to 2:45. ...
At about 2:00 p.m., I went through a few snow flurries, and about forty minutes later there was a lull in the wind before the next show shower. ...
I worked my way halfway down the mountain before giving it up, and made a dash for Slatington Airport.
I hadn’t anticipated much sink because of the dead lift. I’m sure that if there had not been as much sink as there was, I would easily have made Slatington.
When I realized that making the airport was out of the question, the big decision came upon me: should I land on a rock and debris infested island, a rocky shore full of railroad ties, holes and boulders, or the river? The river was my choice.
By this time I had about fifty feet over the water, so I drove it down close to the water, indicating seventy-five miles per hour.
I glided on down the river and put my wheel into the water, indicating about 50 mph. Then, spotting an out-cropping of rock dead ahead, I did the only logical thing and climbed up over it. I went back into the river indicating 40 mph, and as the shore was coming closer, I put the whole main bottom of the glider in. Slowed down to about 25 mph, I hit the bank of the river.
Luckily for me, there had been another drought this past summer and the main river bank was about thirty feet above. But at this time the river was so low that a small bank had been established about a foot above the river level. This small area had boulders and shale outcroppings, railroad ties, holes and a lot of other junk.
I hit this bank and with two loud bangs (one hitting the bank and the other when I made my final stop), finally came to rest between a boulder and a great shale outcropping, my right wing resting on the latter.
So ends my flight, with a much higher respect for the Schweizer 1-26.
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