A Final Resting Place
On the cloudy evening of November 24, 1983, a Cessna 141 leaves out of Chicago headed for the Blue Ridge Mountains in Sylva - but never arrives.
The Approach
The plane slammed into one of the higher mountains in the area, smashing through trees and debris and sending pieces of its wings flying down the mountainside. Neither the pilot nor the single passenger survived, leaving behind the remnants of their flying coffin down the mountain for those who wish to find it.
The cause of the crash is still unclear, but it’s likely a culmination of the bad weather, dark night, and the alcohol found in the pilot’s system. The only information provided on the pilot lists a company, one “Martin Tool Works,” meaning the plane belonged to the construction equipment company, and was possibly being used for business purposes, though the plane could’ve simply been bought under the company name - it’s relatively unclear and reports give little to go off of.
After climbing up a series of two mountains high above the Waynesville/Maggie Valley/Sylva area, I was presented with these widescaping views of the Blue Ridge Mountains. They glimmered with an azure haze that cut through the storms churning in the valleys below. A quick dive off the mountain through a series of root ladders revealed the crash site. This place felt cold and indifferent, and the bizarre silence of the forest made things even more surreal. There I sat, looking into the woods beyond imagining what it must have felt like for this to have been the last thing they ever saw on this Earth. Under the illuminance of the plane’s headlights the trees would’ve came so quickly, too quickly to make sense of what was happening or give any last goodbyes. Now I sat there too, looking at the same trees, but they weren’t moving towards me. They stood cold and indifferent to my presence, a bulwark of disregard for the graveyard which they inhabited. Surreal seems a fitting word.
Adventure On!
-JGM