National Park After Dark - The U.S. Forest Service’s Deadliest Aviation Disaster: Nez Perce National Forest

Episode Date: August 31, 2026

In June 1979, a group of U.S. Forest Service employees and volunteers boarded a routine flight into the remote Idaho backcountry to begin another summer season at the Moose Creek Ranger District. They never arrived. When both engines of their DC-3 failed over the narrow Selway River canyon, the pilots fought to keep the powerless aircraft in the air as the passengers prepared for the worst. What followed was a remarkable story of survival, an enormous wilderness rescue effort, and an investigation that uncovered the failures behind the deadliest aviation disaster in U.S. Forest Service history. For a full list of our sources, visit npadpodcast.com/episodes For the latest NPAD updates, group travel details, merch and more, follow us on npadpodcast.com and our socials: Instagram: @‌nationalparkafterdarkTikTok: @‌nationalparkafterdark Support the show by becoming an Outsider and receive ad free listening, bonus content and more on Patreon or Apple Podcasts. Want to see our faces? Catch full episodes on our YouTube Page! Thank you to this week’s partners! DeleteMeTake control of your personal information online with DeleteMe. Get 20% off your DeleteMe plan when you use code NPAD at checkout.Special 20% Off - DeleteMe IQBARGet 20% off all IQBAR products, plus FREE shipping. Text PARK to 64000. Message and data rates may apply. See terms for details. QuinceFind elevated everyday essentials, from Mongolian cashmere and washable silk to denim, leather goods, jewelry, bedding, and more. Get free shipping and 365-day returns.Women's Best Sellers — Mongolian Cashmere, Silk & Care Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The U.S. Forest Service is responsible for caring for more than 190 million acres of public land across the country. And much of that work happens far beyond the places most visitors ever see. Forest Service employees maintain trails and backcountry campsites, clear fallen trees, restore watersheds, protect wildlife habitat, fight wildfires, conduct search and rescue operations, manage wilderness areas, and keep remote range range range. stations running. In places without roads, they travel by foot, horseback, raft, helicopter, and small aircrafts, sometimes spending entire seasons living and working deep in the backcountry. It's demanding work, and it can also be dangerous. Wildland firefighters face flames, falling trees, smoke, and rapidly changing weather. Rangers and wilderness crews work around swift rivers, steep terrain, wildlife, extreme temperatures, and miles of isolated.

from the nearest hospital or road. And for the employees tasked with reaching some of the most remote corners of America's public lands, simply getting there to work can carry risks of its own. For generations, aviation has been an essential part of the Forest Service operations. Aircraft carry firefighters, rangers, seasonal employees, food, tools, and equipment into places that might otherwise take days to reach. Most of those flights come and go without incident. becoming just another part of the job.

But on June 11, 1979, a group of Forest Service employees and volunteers flying into the Idaho backcountry would learn just how quickly one of those routine trips could become a fight for survival. They were headed into the wilderness to begin another summer of caring and protecting it. Instead, their flight would become the deadliest aviation disaster in U.S. Forest Service history. Welcome to National Park. After Dark. Hey everyone, welcome back to National Park After Dark. My name is Danielle.

And I'm Cassie. And here I am again as someone afraid to fly planes telling a plane crash story. Yeah. I think you gravitate towards the things that you're most fearful of. I agree. Just across the board. So it makes sense that you're, I really don't think I've ever told a plane crash story. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Yeah, I'll correct you because you did. Oh. In Everglades. The Everglades one. Oh, the bonus story we did years ago. Yeah. Yeah. That one is awful.

That is correct. That one was wild. Okay. I stand corrected, but I have kind of just. One of our 500 episodes. Yeah. I kind of pass this off to you and just I know that you have like between the two of us, you have more connection to the Forest Service.

So and like people and, you know, obviously. Al works very closely with the wild and world. So I'm looking forward to hearing this story because I know you will do it justice. Thank you. Yeah, this one definitely hits a little close to home. Al is working for the U.S. Forest Service this summer and he is working on a helotac crew. So he is in helicopters much more frequently than I would like him to be. So this one definitely hits close to home, but I also think it is important to highlight the dangers that come with these jobs and how they're also really important part of why I feel like my intro was just a list of everything people in the U.S. Forest Service do. And their job roles is because it's just so all-encompassing

and there's so many different types of people that are out there. And while it's beautiful and you get to see these amazing corners of the country, it also comes with a high risk sometimes. And I think that This story is unfortunately an example of that. And this one is definitely, definitely hard. And it happened 79, you said? Yep, 1979. Okay. I don't know a thing about it.

So I am here for it. Yeah. And I had actually never heard of this before. And it was so funny because when I heard about it, I was living in Idaho where not far from where this took place. And a listener named Molly wrote in and said that they were a new listener. So hi, Molly. Thank you for hanging out with us. Hope you're listening to this one. And recommended a book for this for this and the story that I had never heard of. And the book is called In the Cellway Shadow's Last Flight of 148 Z. And totally put me on to the story that I otherwise would have never heard of. Okay. Last question before we get into it. Has Al heard of it? Because I'm sure you talk to him about it.

maybe when you were researching? He had not heard of it until I mentioned it. Okay. So I'm just instilling fear in everybody. Okay. Praise. Not heard of it. And I love that I'm telling this story right before we're about to get on.

I have not flown on a plane since we went to our group trip in Hawaii. And now we're about to leave for Scotland. And I'm like, well, I'm about to get on a plane again. So I should probably refresh my fears of aviation by telling us. horrific story about it. So here we are. I'm going to give you like Benadryl or something to knock you. It's a red eye, thankfully. I'm nervous just thinking about it. Well, I used to be fine. And just because I travel with you so frequently, I feel like I'm getting contact fear of flying. And I want to try and avoid that because

I have. That's so funny. It's so funny because Alice is the same thing. Well, you can't help it. You know, if someone next to you is just, you know, there's a colonial woman on the way. Yeah, that's you. So anyway. I wish that was me. My fears are actually warranted. Much greater. Okay.

Well, let's jump into this story. July 11th, 1979 was a beautiful day in the Idaho backcountry. The skies were clear. The temperature was a comfortable 75 degrees Fahrenheit. And the staff of the Moose Creek Ranger District were excited to start their summer season. The Moose Creek Ranger District was unlike almost anywhere else you could work for within the U.S. Forest Service. National forests are divided into smaller ranger districts, each with its own staff responsible for managing and protecting that particular section of public land. Located in north central Idaho, near the Montana border, the Moose Creek District covers roughly 560,000 acres in the heart of the Selway Bitterroot Wilderness, or the Nez Perce National Forest.

So we're going to a National Forest Forest Service Ranger District in the country located entirely within designated wilderness, meaning there were no towns, highways, logging operations, mines, or grazing lands to manage. Instead, the people who worked at Moose Creek were responsible for an enormous expanse of protected wilderness, maintaining hundreds of miles of trails, bridges, ranger stations, and fire lookouts, responding to fires and emergencies, and helping manage the growing number of people who came there to experience one of the wildest places remaining in the lower 48 of the United States. At the heart of the district was the Moose Creek Ranger Station, which is still there today. It sits near the junction of Moose Creek and the Selway River deep enough in the wilderness that there is still no road leading to it. The nearest road ends nearly 30 miles away, meaning reaching the station overland requires making the journey on foot or horseback,

and the only other option is to fly in. That isolation isn't unique to Moose Creek. Huge portions of Idaho backcountry remain inaccessible by motor vehicle, which is why airplanes have long played such an important role in moving people and supplies throughout the region. More than 100 backcountry airstrips are scattered across Idaho's mountain and river valleys, providing relatively quick access to places that could otherwise take days to reach on foot or horseback. For the people who worked at Moose Creek, this meant flying in was part of the job.

Every year, as another summer season began, Forest Service employees and volunteers traveled from across the country to Grangeville, Idaho, the town that served as their gateway into the back country. From there, they boarded a plane for the roughly 60-mile flight to Moose Creek, a trip that usually only took about 30 minutes. Once there, they would spend months living and working together in near isolation. While a small number of Forest Service employees remained at Moose Creek year round, each summer brought an influx of seasonal employees and volunteers,

many of whom returned year after year. They called themselves the Moose Creekers, and they had a reputation within the Forest Service for being a particularly dedicated group of wilderness-minded conservationists. They were described as, tough stock, the kind of people willing to work hard, and rough it in the backcountry for months at a time. But being a moose creaker meant becoming part of a

small, close-knit community. Their home base was a collection of forest service buildings beside the Selway River, surrounded in every direction by mountains and forests. There was an office, cookhouse, barn, and workshop, but outside of that little cluster of buildings, there was nothing but the forest. The staff lived communally, ate together, and helped wherever they were needed. They even created their own informal newsletter filled with jokes and stories about life at Moose Creek, and at night, people gathered around the campfires to sing and play music. During the 1960s and 70s, it seemed like almost everyone brought some kind of instrument into Moose Creek, from guitars and fiddles to banjos, harmonicas, mandolins, and accordions, whether they actually knew how to play

them well or not. Books were also another major source of entertainment. Moose Creek had a special arrangement with the Grangeville Public Library that allowed staff to check out books for the entire summer, which were passed around and shared on bad weather days. One favorite was a river runs through it by Norman McLean, who had his own connection to the wilderness, having worked for the Forest Service in the area decades earlier. Oh, cool. I love that movie. I saw it like a long time ago, but I would totally read the book too. A river runs through it. Am I thinking of this correctly? Correct me if I'm wrong. But is Brad Pitt in that one? Yes.

Okay. I am thinking of the correct one. It's kind of the same time frame as Legends of the Fall. Oh, okay. And I think I've never read A River Runs Through It and other stories, but I think the story itself is relatively short because it's in a book that has other stories. But the movie is great. I remember my dad watched it or had me watch it when I was young because it had to do with like fishing and stuff. Oh, gotcha.

We like to fish, even though we weren't flyfishers. And flyfishers are very particular about their people. And I'm sorry, I'm not. I'm a poser. I've never flyfish. I fly fished once and I caught a dead fish. Oh, that's false. Sorry.

I have fly fished one singular time in my life. So not a poser. Not a poser. Just growing up, yeah. I had to make sure I was clear. about what side of the fence I was on. And it was not the flyfish inside. No.

But. Well, for all this, I loved, I wanted to outline, like, the lifestyle around this because I just thought it was so fun. You know, you're in a small, tight-knit group community. You're playing music. You're hanging out. There's no TV or Wi-Fi. I mean, maybe, no, 79. They didn't have Wi-Fi.

There's no, like, televisions or anything like that. So you're just, like, passing around books and hanging out by the campfire. And it's like truly an off-grid experience with like-minded people. And I just thought that that's really cool and something that I would love to be a part of. And like I mentioned earlier, this was a place that people really loved and they came summer after summer. And it was very much known as a place where co-workers became family. It was long after you left Moose Creek, you stayed in contact with the people who were there.

So when another group of Moose Creekers prepared to fly into the wilderness for the beginning of the 1979 season, many of them were returning to a place and a community that they already knew. In June of 1979, the man in charge of the Moose Creek Ranger District was Art Siemens. As District Ranger, Art oversaw the staff and Forest Service operations across those 560,000 acres of wilderness, and this was his fifth summer in the role. Art, his wife Joyce, and their two daughters were actually supposed to fly into Moose Creek with the rest of the crew on June 11. But at last minute, Joyce decided she wanted to arrive a day early so she could bake a cake for everyone ahead of the season's orientation. So on June 10th, the Siemens family flew into Moose Creek aboard a smaller Cessna 206 instead.

On the morning of June 11th, pilot Marvin Whitey Hatchmeister and co-pilot John Slingerland were preparing to fly the Moose Creekers from Grangeville into the ranger station for the beginning of their summer season. If there were two men, you would feel comfortable making that flight with. It was Whitey. His nickname was Whitey. And John. Both were military veterans. Both had decades of flying experience. And together, they had logged more than 22,000 hours in the air. Whitey had white hair, hence the name. And a gruff but kind demeanor who had spent much of his life around airplanes. He served in the Navy during World War II and later in the Air Force during the Korean War, before being. honorably discharged and eventually flying for the U.S. Forest Service. He became a specially experienced flying throughout the Mountain West, spending his summers transporting Forest Service crews and equipment into places like the Idaho backcountry. When he wasn't flying, Whitey was usually riding his motorcycle, fishing, or hunting birds. He lived in Idaho with his wife, Leona, and their five daughters. John was just as experienced. Tall with wild gray hair, he had served in the

the Marine Corps and flew during both World War II and the Korean War. His military career ended after he was seriously injured in 1953. John lost the lower portion of his leg and wore a prosthetic for the rest of his life, but it didn't slow him down. After he and his wife Dee moved from California to Idaho in 1970, they became avid skiers and people who met John were often surprised to learn that he even had a prosthetic leg because of how active and agile he was. He was. He was, he was, he was. He was also a highly decorated veteran who had already experienced considerable loss in his life. His older brother had been killed during World War II, and years later, John's son Bruce died in a hang gliding accident. The aircraft, Whitney and John, would be flying that morning,

was a Douglas DC3 C-47, one of the most recognizable transport aircrafts of the 20th century. Originally developed as a passenger plane in the 1930s, the DC3 was adapted into the military C-47 during World War II, where thousands were used to transport troops, cargo, and supplies. After the war, many of those aircrafts found second lives in the civilian service, including the U.S. Forest Service crews affectionately called them Dugs, and by 1979, they had been using the aircraft for years. The planes were well suited to the Forest Service work because they could carry substantial loads of people and equipment into relatively remote areas, and their rugged design made them useful for operations throughout the Mountain West. Whitey himself had spent

years flying Dugs on assignment for the Forest Service. Originally, there were supposed to be closer to 20 people aboard the flight that morning, but by June 11th, the group had been cut nearly in half. District Ranger Art Siemens and his family had flown into Moose Creek ahead of the others to prepare for the cruise arrival, while several seasonal employees traveling from elsewhere in the country had been delayed getting to Grangeville and would have to catch a later flight. That left just 10 passengers and two dogs making the trip that morning. With fewer people aboard than expected, the interior of the dog was left in configuration the Forest Service commonly used when transporting smoke jumpers.

Rather than arranging the passengers throughout the cabin like you might picture on a commercial flight, the 10 Moose Creekers were seated together along the left side of the aircraft, while their gear and cargo were loaded on the right. Once everyone and everything was aboard, the crew prepared to make the short flight into Moose Creek. The 10 people settling into their seats that morning were a mix of longtime Forest Service employees, seasonal workers and volunteers, some returning to Moose Creek, and others about to experience it for the first time. The youngest was 17-year-old Bryant Stringham, who had just finished his junior year of high school in nearby, Cottonwood. Brian played football, was active in Boy Scouts, and had grown up camping, hunting,

and fishing with his family. Despite his age, this wasn't his first summer at Moose Creek. He had worked there the year before as an assistant station guard doing whatever needed to be done, from tending the stock and cutting firewood to delivering mail to remote fire lookouts. He had loved it enough to come back for another season, and this time he had received special permission from art to bring along his eight-year-old beagle beetle beetle beetle beetle is such a cute name for a beagle yeah it is people are so creative with their dog names they love it I know I know I've only named one of my dogs because blue came with blue and yeah he had been through enough I wasn't going to change his name like you can just stay blue and then gator came with gator he was just going to

Noah as an alias. Okay. I know I said that before, but he was under witness protection for a little, but yeah, his name is Gator and I think it's cute, so I didn't change it, but... Gator is cute. And it's fitting, I feel like, for him.

Yeah, he bites. Yeah, he bites. And Chaska's a good name. Chaska... Chaska... But it's a good name. It's a meaningful name. You know, like the translation of it is meaningful,

but I don't know. Beetle is just so cute. You know, like... Beattel is really cute. Dishes my dog, beetle. And just anything, any animal that's named after another animal, it wins all the time. Like a dog named duck. You got it.

You won. It's like adorable. And you have a Halloween costume for life. Always a duck. Yeah. Every year. Okay. Sorry.

This beagle was probably a beetle for Halloween. Okay. And it's not missed opportunity. Super missed opportunity. Okay, jumping back in. There were also several career Forest Service employees aboard. 59-year-old Robert Andy Taylor, who went by Andy, was an engineer for the Nes-Pers National Forest who had worked for the U.S. Forest Service for 17 years.

He was headed to Moose Creek specifically to repair the ranger station's broken water system, one of his final assignments before a retirement he had planned in December. He and his wife were looking forward to spending that retirement, road-tripping around the and their new Fifth Wheeler trailer. Ronald Hagan was also an engineer with the Forest Service, while 29-year-old Don East House was Art Seaman's resource assistant at Moose Creek and had been helping him organize the training everyone was flying in to attend. Others were there specifically for the summer season.

Patrick McGreevy, 23-year-old Philip Leber, 20-year-old Robert Cook, and 25-year-old Catherine Tyke-Hodgian were seasonal forest employees. Catherine was already a Moose Creek veteran and was heading back into the wilderness to spend the summer staffing the remote Shisler Peak Fire lookout. Traveling with her was her dog Bess, a large German Shepherd retriever mix known for being sweet and calm. 26-year-old Charlie Dietz was a Hellattack firefighter, part of the Forest Service helicopter-based firefighting operation, while 19-year-old Thomas to Kurtz had come all the way from Michigan to volunteer for the summer. Thomas had signed his volunteer agreement that very morning. His assignment would have him working on a wilderness cleanup crew,

hauling out garbage, removing an old phone line, restoring campsites, and clearing trails. Before beginning that work, he was headed to Moose Creek for a week of training with everyone else. As everyone settled in, Best seemed completely unfazed by the airplane and stretched out quietly at Catherine's feet. Beatle was another story. Not long after takeoff, the Beagle climbed, across Bryant's lap towards the window on the opposite side of the plane.

Bryant pulled him back, but Beatle wouldn't settle down. He remained alert, staring across the cabin, and repeatedly cocking his head towards the engine outside the window. There was, however, one small irregularity already that morning. When the pilot started the right engine, it took roughly twice the usual number of propeller rotations before it fired. Once it did, the engine appeared to run smoothly. The left engine started without issue, and there was nothing at the time that caused Whitey or John to cancel the flight.

So, at 928 that morning, they had lifted off. About 20 minutes into the flight, the first sign of trouble appeared in the cockpit. The gauges for the left engine began showing an abnormally high oil temperature and low oil pressure, prompting Whitey and John to shut the engine down and feather its propeller, which is rotating the blades so their thin edges faced into the air. flow. This prevented the dead engine's propeller from continuing to spin in the rushing air and creating unnecessary drag. Although losing an engine was obviously concerning, the dug was capable of continuing to fly on its remaining engine, so at this point the situation was still manageable.

The passengers could tell that something had changed. With the left engine shut down, the cabin became noticeably quieter, while the ride itself began to feel rougher. Whitey and John, came over the intercom to tell everyone that they were experiencing a problem and instructed them to make sure that their seatbelts were fastened. 19-year-old Tom took curse, who had been spending part of the flight up near the cockpit with the pilots, returned to his seat besides Bryant, looking pale and frightened. Whatever was happening up front was serious enough that the mood inside the cabin began to change. With the left engine shut down, the right engine was now keeping the aircraft in the air. But within somewhere between 10 and 30 seconds, that engine suffered a catastrophic failure of

its number eight cylinder and burst into flames. From their seats along the left side of the cabin, the passengers were facing the window on the right side of the plane, giving them a horrifying view of what was happening just outside. It was the same side of the aircraft that Beetle had been so fixated on earlier in the flight, and now flames were surrounding the engine and the wing. Before anyone had much time to process what they were seeing, there was an explosive sound as the burning right engine tore away from the wing and fell towards the wilderness below. In less than a minute, the crew had gone from dealing with a problem in one engine to losing both of them. Whitey and John were now trying to keep the entirely powerless DC3 in the air while flying

through the narrow Selway River Canyon. The dug continued gliding upstream for approximately three and a half miles after losing the right engine, but it was steadily losing altitude as the pilots followed the river between the steep, forested slopes rising on either side of them. For the people inside, those next few minutes must have felt impossibly long. The landscape that had been comfortably below them earlier in the flight was now rising around them as the plane descended deeper and deeper into the river corridor. Trees passed frighteningly close outside the window as Whitey and John continued following the cellway, searching the canyon ahead of them for somewhere they might be able to bring the aircraft down. Back inside the plane, the passengers were preparing for what was becoming, increasingly inevitable. Someone called out instructions to remove eyeglasses, cover their faces,

hold hands, and open the emergency hatches. Charlie Dietz removed his glasses and tucked them into the front pocket of his overalls before reaching for the person beside him, while Bryant worked to get the rear hatch open before returning to his seat and fastening his seatbelt. Beside Bryant sat Tom, the 19-year-old volunteer who only minutes earlier had returned from the cockpit frightened by what he had seen. As the powerless Doug continued descending through the canyon, Bryant and Tom reached for one another's hands, while Whitey and John searched the cellway ahead of them for somewhere to land. Whitey and John were likely aiming for Dry Bar, an open stretch along the bend in the cellway that offered one of the few places in the canyon where they might have had a chance

of landing the aircraft. The Selway River Canyon was only about 400 feet wide in places, while the DC3 had a wingspan of more than 95 feet, leaving the pilots with very little room to maneuver as they tried to guide the powerless aircraft towards the open stretch of land. Remarkably, they almost made it. Whitey and John had managed to keep the Doug Airborne for roughly three and a half miles, but just before they could get there, the left wing struck a large fir tree. The impact sent the aircraft pitching steeply downward towards the Selway River. Inside the cabin, the passengers leaned forward and brace themselves as best they could, many still holding hands with their seatmates as they had been instructed.

Charlie, seated beside Catherine, pulled his seatbelt as tight as he could. Around him, some passengers bowed their head, while others whispered prayers out loud. Charlie's thoughts went to his wife, Julie, as he prepared himself to die. God. seconds later, the 148 Z slammed into the river. For 17-year-old Bryant Stringham, everything went dark. In the moments after the impact, Bryant found himself sitting upright in the seat with his seatbelt fastened around him. The cabin that had been filled with noise only moments earlier was now unnervingly quiet,

but another sound soon took its place. The Selway River rushing around and threw the wreckage. It was early June when snowmelt and spring runoff left the river running high, fast, and dangerously cold. Bryant began trying to understand what was around him. Several of the other passengers were still strapped into their seats nearby, but he couldn't see anyone moving. Loose gear that had been packed aboard for the summer was now floating through the wreckage and sloshing around the cabin as water poured inside. That's when Bryant realized that the plane was actually still moving. The current had caught the wreckage and was carrying it downstream, and with every passing moment, more water entered the cabin.

Bryant was still holding Tom's hand, but Tom wasn't moving. As water rose around them, his body began sinking lower beneath the surface while Bryant struggled to release his own seatbelt. Somehow, remarkably, his dog Beetle was still there with him. The little Beagle had survived the crash and was on Bryant's lap as the water came. continued to rise around them. Bryant didn't know whether he was going to be able to get himself out, but he knew Beetle needed to get out of the flooding aircraft. As an effort to save his life, he quickly pushed his dog through a small opening in the wreckage, giving Beetle at least a chance of escaping the plane. The current immediately carried him away from him and out of sight.

Bryant had no way of knowing whether his dog would survive the freezing, fast-moving river, or whether that would be the last time he ever saw him. The water continued climbing inside the cabin, steadily shrinking the pocket of breathable air around Brian as he fought to undo his seatbelt. Eventually, he managed to free himself and make his way out of the wreckage into the river. The force of the current immediately swept Bryant underwater and pinned him against the river bottom. He swam for his life in the rushing cellway with plain debris swirling around him, threatening to impale him or drag him under even farther. At one point, the undertow was so strong, Bryant thought he would surely die at the bottom of the river before he managed to kick himself free. As the river pulled him further down, he managed to grab at some boulders near the side of the river and hauled himself out of the freezing cold water.

Once Bryant caught his breath and got his bearings, he looked upstream and saw Charlie standing on a rock and waving at him. Charlie had somehow survived the crash too, and he wasn't alone. Charlie had no memory of actually escaping the wreckage. The last thing he could remember was being inside the plane as it descended towards the cellway. The next thing he knew, he was swimming and gasping for air in the deep icy water. While fighting the current, he spotted a large backpack floating nearby. and grabbed onto it for flotation. That's when he saw Andy about 10 feet away in the river and yelled for him to grab onto the pack. As a former football player, Charlie was a big, broad-shouldered man,

and he used all his strength he had to fight the current and got both himself and Andy towards shore. So by the time Bryant spotted Charlie waving to him from the rock, three of the 12 people who had been aboard the 148 Z had made it out of the wreckage alive. When Charlie got out of the river, he pulled his eyeglasses still intact from the front pocket of his denim overalls. Charlie, who had been sitting next to Catherine on a plane, didn't see her anywhere. As Bryant approached Charlie on the riverbank, he saw Andy lying along the shoreline still partially in the water. Together, they both pulled him up completely on shore, but it was immediately clear that Andy was badly injured. He was fading in and out of consciousness.

One of his legs had been severely mangled in the crash, and the extent of his other injuries made them worry that he could be bleeding internally. Bryant and Charlie did what they could for him with the limited first aid knowledge and supplies that they had. Because Andy's injured leg was badly damaged and needed to be kept from moving, they improvised a splint to stabilize it and tried to keep Andy as still as possible. Andy was extremely thirsty, but because of the severity of his injuries, they were afraid to give him water. Instead, they wed a rag for him to suck on while they tried to figure out how they were going to get help. Once Andy was as stable as Bryant and Charlie could make him, Bryant looked across the river and noticed another man waving at him from the opposite bank.

To his astonishment, this wasn't another passenger from the plane. By sheer luck, they had crashed near the Selway River Trail, where a hiker had been close enough to witness the plane coming down and was now trying to get their attention. The Selway River Trail followed the river for dozens of miles, carrying hikers and backpackers deep into a part of Idaho that couldn't be reached by car. People used the trail for both day hikes and multi-day backpacking trips, while Forest Service crews and pack strings also traveled portions of the corridor to reach remote areas along the cellway. In a place where you could travel for miles without encountering

another person, having someone on the trail near the crash light at the exact moment was incredibly fortunate. The hiker immediately wanted to help, but there was an enormous obstacle between them. The cellway was running high and fast with the spring runoff and after what Bryant had just experienced in the water, attempting to swim across it was out of the question. Instead, Brian and the hiker began walking upstream on opposite banks, keeping pace with one another until they reached a point where they could make out at least some of what the other was shouting over the roar of the river. The hiker managed to communicate that there was a bridge a few miles upstream and that he would meet Bryant there. Bryant knew the bridge he was talking about, three-length bridge, a foot-and-pack bridge spanning the cellway.

Knowing where the bridge was helped Bryant finally orient to himself within the canyon, and more importantly, it gave him a way to reach the person at the opposite side of the bank without swimming across the river. Bryant ran back to Charlie and Andy. Charlie's leg was now incredibly swollen and Bryant feared it might be broken and the two men were in rough shape sitting on the shore, bruised and bloody, mostly immobile with Andy slipping in and out of consciousness. Brian asked Charlie if he wanted him to stay there with him or if he could try to meet up with the hiker up river and get some help. Charlie told Bryant to go while he stayed with Andy. So he grabbed some extra clothing in a sleeping bag that had washed up. from the river and laid them out to drive for both Charlie and Andy, promising to be back soon for help. He didn't take any supplies with him, convinced that he was mostly fine and the other men would need it more than he would. After he left, he bushwhacked through vegetation, scrambled over rocks, and worked his way along the river, knowing only that if he kept heading upstream, eventually

he should reach the bridge. After several miles, Three Links Bridge finally came into view. The hiker was there waiting for him just as he had promised, but he wasn't alone. Standing there with him was Beatle. Oh, I've been holding my breath this whole time. Like, not Beatle, but not... I can't take this right now. I know. Somehow, the little beagle had made it safely out of the cellway and found the hiker,

apparently without any serious injuries. Bryant, of course, had no idea if he was still alive, and after everything that had happened that morning, seeing Beatle waiting for him at the bridge was an overwhelming relief. The two were reunited and from there, Beatles stayed by Bryant's side as they continued to search for help. The hiker who he met there, I'm like, the dog, but this hiker that he's meeting. There's also a person. There's also a person was named Alan Greenleaf. And remarkably, his connection to this story had actually begun before the 148 Z had ever left Grangeville. Alan had met Charlie prior to setting out on his backpacking trip.

He had originally planned a longer solo journey through the wilderness, but after injuring his Achilles, he needed to find something shorter and less strenuous. At the Selway Falls Guard Station, Charlie was actually the person to help him choose an easier route that would take him along the Selway River instead. And it was that change of plans that put Allen at the river at this time on June 11th. I think that's incredible. But you know that I am of the mindset that the universe works in mysterious ways. Yeah.

So. I feel like this moment someone was looking out for both of them, you know, and especially for Charlie. That morning, Alan had been hiking the route when he noticed. an airplane flying shockingly low through the canyon. He watched it disappear around a bend in the river and moments later heard what sounded like explosions. Then pieces of the aircraft began floating past him in the river. Realizing that the plane had gone down somewhere nearby, Alan began making his way along the riverbank looking for the survivors until he eventually spotted Bryant, Charlie, and Andy on the opposite side. After getting Bryant's attention and directing

him towards the bridge and then him finding his own way there himself along the way to the bridge he came across Beatle who then followed him to to Bryant and they were reunited. Such a good dog. I don't think, I feel like Choska would definitely do that. Blue definitely would have Gator now. Gator been like I live here now and I'm not, he's not going to trust anybody. He would just run away. Like he wouldn't go up to anybody. No. Yeah. Yeah. I think Ember and Tucker would both. I think Ember would be more fearful than Tucker of like the whole situation, but I think she would seek out people for help. And I know Tucker would. Tucker definitely would. Help me. He'd just be like looking for, yeah, just like looking for your people. With a thermos

of lemonade from Allen and Beatle finally back by his side, Bryant started towards Moose Creek. But now that he was out of the river and had a clear path forward, the adrenaline that had carried him through the last few hours began to wear off, and Bryant started to realize just how badly he was hurt. His clothes had been ripped to shreds, a massive bruise had formed around his waist where his seatbelt had caught him during the crash, and the ring finger on his right hand was bleeding heavily and had been nearly torn off. Still, though, with those injuries, he just had Charlie and Andy top of mind and he knew that he had to keep moving. Alan helped orient him before they set out on the roughly eight mile journey upriver from Three Links Bridge to Moose Creek. At least though for Bryant, this

part of the trip would be somewhat easier to navigate. He was now on a more established trail rather than bushwalking through the riverbanks and scrambling over rocks. Bryant made it roughly six of those eight miles before he finally saw people coming towards him on the trail. They were a meal and Penny Keck, longtime Moose Creekers who had already heard fragments of information over the radio that something had happened downriver. With few details to go on, the Kecks and the other Moose Creekers had gathered horses and supplies and headed down the trail to search for the plane and anyone who might have survived. Finding Bryant alive was the first real answer that they had. The Kecks immediately wanted to know whether anyone else had survived, but Bryant could only tell them what he knew,

that Charlie and Andy were alive when he left them downstream, but he had no idea what had happened to anyone else on board. Emil and Penny had brought a horse named Trigger and they gave him to Bryant for the remaining miles to Moose Creek. Bryant climbed aboard with Beetle and continued towards the Ranger Station, while the Kecks kept heading in the opposite direction downriver towards Charlie, Andy, and the wreckage. When Bryant, Beetle, and Trigger were finally approaching the Moose Creek Ranger Station, which, Waiting there was District Ranger Art Siemens, Bryant's boss, and the man in charge of the Moose Creek Ranger District, which I mentioned earlier. He is the one who had flown in a day early and his wife wanted to bake a cake for everyone. By now, Art had begun receiving reports that the plane carrying his staff had gone down somewhere along the river. As Bryant approached the station, he suddenly remembered that his pants had been ripped to shreds during the crash,

And in this moment of almost being a little bit embarrassed and not wanting his boss and co-workers to see him in his underwear, Brian took off his shirt and tied it around his waist and then rode into camp, which I just thought was like... Still keeping modesty in mind in a situation like that is... I thought... I mean, you never know how you're going to react. And I think that that's really not far from reality and maybe how I would feel, to be honest. Yeah. It's just when you think about it, it's just like all of this just happened and then to have the wherewithal to even like think of that or consider it or feel that way. Or feel like it's important at all in this type of situation, you know?

Yeah. Like your coworkers and boss would be pretty understanding that you're in your underwear after surviving an actual plane crash. But I kind of agree with you. Like if I was in my underwear and I was approaching people, I might be like, does anything? even have something to cover me up before. Yeah. I walk up to my actual boss. It was you. I wouldn't care. Thank you. Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment. I'm like, I don't care about that. This episode is brought to you by IQ Bar, our exclusive snack sponsor. IQ bars are better for you, clean plant protein bars packed with fiber and brain boosting nutrients with zero added sugar. You no longer have to choose between healthy or delicious snacks. I'm always looking for snacks that I can easily throw in my bag, especially when I'm traveling or hitting the trails. And IQ bars have become one of my go-toes. Their plant protein bars are packed with high-quality ingredients and you won't find a bunch of

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Park to 64,000. That's park to 64,000. Message and data rates may apply. See terms for details. So, of course, he gets there and he starts talking to him. He says the same thing that he had said to the Kex that Charlie and Andy were alive downstream, but he has no idea what had happened to everyone else if other people had made it out of the crash or not. So, of course, Art starts making calls and he arranges to send Bryant back to Grangeville because he needs medical attention at this point. Unfortunately, to get Bryant back to Grangeville, he had to put him back on a plane. So of course, he was understandably anxious, but Beetle wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. And of course, because he had to return with Brian, he had to get on the plane.

but according to Bryant, it took three grown men to contain and wrestle Beatle and put him into the plane because he did not want to be there so badly. I mean, and it's just heartbreaking because it's like for their own good, but you can't explain that. And I can just imagine him in his mind just being like, were you guys paying attention to what just happened to us? Why are we doing this? Like, quick question. Am I the only one who just remembers what we just all experienced? Yeah, that's tough.

That's really, really tough. Yeah. Just trauma for life forever, for everyone. But especially to an animal that doesn't have that level of understanding that. Yeah. Yeah. It's so sad. I mean, that would be me.

Do you have to give me drugs to get me back on that plane? And especially because he was the one who was probably like, Hey, something's not right here. And no one is catching on. He knew he was the first one to know. Yeah. He's like, I tried to warn you guys at the beginning. And now you want me back on here where you're still not going to listen to me or still are not listening to me.

It's just not clocking to you. Beetle knows all. Well, while Brian and a very unwilling beetle headed back to Grangeville, help was on the way for Andy and Charlie. and not just by the way of the Kecks heading down river towards them, but by now, the 148Z had been reported overdue, and the Forest Service had launched a much larger search and rescue operation. A search plane sent from Grangeville picked up the aircraft's emergency locator signal, and by around noon, the wreckage had been spotted in the cellway. Meanwhile, a DC3 carrying 14 rescue trained smoke jumpers had been dispatched from Missoula, Montana. seven of them were certified EMTs and the group included experienced jumpers like Wayne Williams and Jeff Kinderman, who had recently returned to Missoula after working together on an assignment in New Mexico.

Now for people who might not be aware, smoke jumpers are wilderness firefighters, specially trained to parachute into remote areas, making them particularly well suited for reaching a crash site, buried deep inside this wilderness that's here. The first two jumped into the canyon to assess the conditions below, and once they determined that others could safely follow, the remaining 12 parachuted in. As the smoke jumpers began making their way through the canyon towards Charlie and Andy, one of them, Wayne Williams, noticed something struggling in the river. And he noticed that it was a dog. Bass! Wayne made his way into the water and pulled the animal to shore, where he realized this dog had just survived.

the same plane crash they had been sent in to respond to. It was Bess, Catherine's German Shepherd Retriever Mix, who had been lying calmly at her feet when the 187 Z took off that morning. Somehow, Bess had survived the impact and escaped the wreckage, but unlike Beatle, she hadn't come through uninjured. One of her legs was fractured, so after Wayne pulled her from the river, he carried her to a small clearing,

laid out a blanket, and did what he could to make her comfortable. With Bess safely out of the water, the smoke jumpers continued towards Charlie and Andy. When they arrived, Charlie insisted that he was okay, but Andy was clearly in much more serious condition. The first smoke jumpers to reach them were particularly well equipped to assess just how badly he was hurt. Both were certified EMTs, first aid instructors for new smoke jumpers, and former military medics. Their examinations found that Andy's blood pressure was dangerously level. a sign that he was in severe shock. Along with his badly injured leg,

he had lacerations around his shoulders and significant bruising across his back and abdomen. Although he was still coherent and able to respond to them, his condition was deteriorating quickly. The smoke jumpers immediately began trying to stabilize him. They placed Andy in masked pants, or military anti-shock trousers, an inflatable medical garment that wrapped around his legs in abdomen,

and was used at the time in an attempt to raise dangerously low blood pressure and severely injured patients. Andy needed much more medical care than they could provide on the riverbank though, so the priority became getting him out of the canyon as quickly as possible. For the next hour, the two smokejumbers did everything they could to stabilize Andy on the riverbank, monitoring him and treating his injuries while hoping they could keep him alive long enough to get him out of the canyon. but despite their efforts, his condition continued to deteriorate until they could no longer find a pulse. They immediately began CPR, taking turns performing chest compressions and inserting an airway to help him breathe. For another 35 minutes, they continued trying to resuscitate him, but Andy never regained a pulse.

About an hour and a half after the smokejumbers reached him, Andy Taylor died from his injuries. After watching Andy die, Charlie became more visibly distressed, showing signs of panic and hyperventilating as his own adrenaline started to wear off. Even though his vitals were stable, he desperately needed to get out of the woods and get proper medical attention. So the smoke jumper team and the Army National Guard began coordinating to get Charlie airlifted out, which was no small feet in the narrow River Canyon, as we know. The hoist maneuver from the helicopter was deemed too risky since the main rotor and tail rotor were so close to the snags on the side of the river that a single gust of wind could blow either rotor into a tree and kill everyone on board. Ultimately, they were able to lift Charlie in a Stokes litter basket, a metal cage stretcher, and he was flown to the nearest hospital for a quick evaluation before being sent to the Sacred Heart Medical Center in Spokane. Now that Charlie had been taken to safety, the rescue operation changed their focus to getting Andy's body out of the woods and looking for any other survivors.

The smoke jumpers flagged down a group of rafting guides running the river in a preseason training trip, and they set up a basic home base at Dry Bar, the stretch of the sandbar in the river that Whitey and John were aiming for before the plane ultimately hit the tree. The raft crew also helped move Catherine's dog Best to Drybar, where the rescue team was setting up camp for the night. Bess had survived with the broken leg, badly lacerated paws, and when she was lifted out of the raft, she was clearly in a tremendous amount of pain. A few people there wondered whether her injuries were so severe that the most humane thing would be to put her down. But one of the smoke jumpers, Bill, wasn't willing to give up on her. He scooped Bess out of the raft

and carried her to the upper end of the sandbar where the crew had stashed their gear. There, the Jumpers wrapped her in blankets and built a small fire to keep her warm and comfortable for the night. One of the men who stayed with her was Wayne Williams, who is a member of the smoke jumper team that I mentioned earlier. Wayne spent that first night of the crash site camp beside Bess, keeping an eye on her while the rescue and recovery operation continued around them. With helicopter crews in the air, rafters and divers on the water, and smoke jumpers and forest surface employees on the ground, they were all now, making their way through the river, focusing on trying to recover or find any survivors, and locate as much as the 148 as possible so investigators could eventually determine what had caused the crash. And of course, this was an enormous undertaking. The cellway had torn the aircraft apart

and carried pieces of the wreckage as far as six miles downstream, scattering parts of the plane, its cargo, and the victims throughout the river corridor. The Forest Service coordinated the operation, but the response quickly grew beyond the people who had initially been sent into the canyon. Employees from other Forest Service districts joined Moose Creek staff, volunteers came in to help, and when the original smokejumper team was told to return to Missoula, Wayne Williams and four others volunteered to stay behind. Wayne remained around Moose Creek for about a week, first helping recover pieces of the aircraft, and then helping search for and recover the people who had been killed. At times, nearly 20 people involved in the operation were camped together at Drybar each night.

And because there were no roads into the crash site, nearly everything they needed had to come in by aircraft, horsebacked, raft, or on foot. The search and recovery would continue for more than a month until July 14th, when every victim had finally been accounted for. Recovering the aircraft took even longer, extending into the following season. Finding the victims presented another challenge because several had been carried underwater and into deep pools and eddies along the cellway. A volunteer dive team joined the operation working with crews searching from the air and people moving along the river banks. Two days after the crash on June 13th, divers recovered four people from a deep pool near the rapids. Co-pilot, John Slingerland, Don Easthouse, Bryant seatmate, Tom to Curse, and Ron Hagan. hours later farther up river katherine hodgins was also recovered four people were still missing on june fifteenth searchers found

patrick mcgrie and another deep eddy two days later on june 17th divers returned to the same area and recovered kevin leber and bob cook both men were still buckled into their seats which had become deeply embedded in the sand beneath the river The conditions of the victims also helped investigators understand what had happened inside the plane during impact. Idaho County coroner Kathy Gibbs performed autopsies on pilots Whitey and John. Although the other victims were not autopsied, the available evidence led her to believe that they had died from the tremendous injuries sustained during the crash rather than drowning afterwards. There were no apparent signs that they had struggled to escape the wreckage. The rescue teams eventually recovered both engines from the cellway, giving investigators a chance to determine what had gone so catastrophically wrong. Because the 148Z was a government aircraft, the investigation was handled internally rather than through the NTSB process.

And within nine weeks, investigators have compiled an enormous 872-page report using eyewitness accounts, maintenance records, physical evidence from the wreckage, and a reconstruction. of the flight's final minutes. One early theory focused on Whitey's autopsy, which showed elevated alcohol levels in his organs and led to speculation in the press that he had been drinking. Investigators quickly rejected that idea. Whitey's body had remained in the river for 33 days before he was found, and decomposition and bacterial activity can produce alcohol after death. There was no evidence that either pilot had been impaired.

In fact, investigators praised Whitey and John's actions during the emergency. One aviation safety officer wrote, The fact that these pilots were able to maintain control of the aircraft, considering the magnitude of the problems being encountered, speaks highly of their skill. Adding that any survivors at all in a crash like this was miraculous. Instead, the investigation pointed towards something far more systemic. improper engine maintenance and inadequate record keeping. Maintenance logs were incomplete or missing, and investigators discovered serious problems with the right engine,

which had already exceeded its recommended 1,000-hour operating limit. The number 8 cylinder, the same cylinder that catastrophically failed during the flight, had multiple broken or missing bolts and loose or missing nuts. Eventually, investigators ultimately concluded that proper inspection and maintenance of either engine could have prevented this crash. The findings exposed broader failures within the Forest Service Region 4 Aviation Program and led to changes in maintenance and aviation safety. The accident also came at a time when the Forest Service was already debating

whether to replace its aging C-47-D-C3 fleet with newer aircrafts, a transition that had been delayed in part because of cost. Because of the engine's failure due to maintenance neglect, The families of the victims and survivors of the 148Z had legitimate legal claims against the parties responsible for the plane maintenance, seeking justice and settlement funds in the absence of any possibilities of bringing their loved ones back. Whitey's widow, Leona, filed a $1.7 million lawsuit against the outside companies responsible for the DC3 maintenance, arguing that they were negligent. While both Charlie and Bryant wanted to move on with their lives, the victim's families

ultimately convinced them both to join the lawsuit, and their testimony became instrumental in securing settlements for the victim's families. The litigation was complex, and much of it is not public record, so we don't fully know who was held responsible and who got paid what amounts in court. The traumatic aftershocks rippled well beyond the survivors and families of the victims. Moosecrick District Ranger Art Siemens blamed himself, although he was clearly not to blame, because he was supposed to be on that flight and he had immense survivors guilt and wondered if things would have been different if he had been there. He left Moose Creek for good in 1980, though he continued to work for the U.S. Forest Service and his daughter said what happened there that summer

continued to haunt art for the rest of his life. The Moose Creek Ranger District eventually got absorbed into the Selway Ranger District in 1995, so Moose Creek, as it was, no longer exists. Moose Creekers from the 1960s to 1990s were disappointed by this choice, saying it forced the integrity of the wilderness to take a backseat for other use cases diluting the only true wilderness ranger district in the country. Art and a University of Idaho professor helped establish a Selway Bitterroot Memorial Scholarship Fund in memory of the victims, especially Kevin Leber, who was a third-year student at the university studying wildland recreation management. Given annually to a particularly dedicated wildland recreation management student at the university, the scholarship has helped nearly 50 students fund their education since its inception. Many parents, siblings, and spouses of the crash victims made their own pilgrimages to the Selway River and the site of the crash, as well as a memorial plaque dedicated to the passengers of the 148 Z that's affixed to a granite boulder outside the Moose Creek Ranger Station.

After getting out of the hospital, Bryant had spent a restless week in his parents' house before heading back to Moose Creek for the summer, where he actually worked for the remainder of the season before returning to high school in the fall and graduating with the class of 1980. Beetle came with him to Moose Creek for the rest of 1979 summer season as well, and as well as the 1980 summer season, though he remained less than thrilled about the prospect of getting in another plane. After that, Bryant went off to college for a year before pausing his studies to serve on an LDS missionary assignment in England. Charlie was released from the hospital in Spokane only a day after the crash because they couldn't find anything majorly wrong. His wife Julie was not pleased with that assessment saying, What do you mean there's nothing wrong? He fell out of the sky. Help him. Sure enough, Charlie was quickly readmitted within 24 hours of being discharged when he experienced traumatic kidney failure due to the intense stress on his body from the crash and the problem eventually resolved and he didn't

need dialysis or anything like that. He also needed surgery to repair ligament tears in his left knee. He was put in a cast and had to stay nearby in Spokane for a few weeks for post-off assessments and evaluations. In July, he was finally cleared and immediately wanted to go back to Moose Creek where he finished out the season with Bryant and the others. Bess also survived and was airlifted out of the wilderness, thanks to the care of the smoke jumpers Bill and Wayne, who took care of her and built her that little tent and fire before they could bring her to medical attention. Back in Grangeville, Catherine's ex-husband Dan, who previously lived with Catherine and Bess and already knew and loved her, was waiting for her. He officially adopted Bess and she

lived out the rest of her life with him. All the Moose Creeker employees agree that Moose Creek was the best place for them to process and heal from the traumatic events of June 11th, surrounded by their close-knit family of coworkers and doing hard manual labor to take their minds off of what had happened. Richard H. Holm Jr. published his book that I mentioned at the beginning of this story in 2025, after eight years of investigating, talking with survivors, witnesses, and rescuers, and weaving together all of the different stories and pieces and took more complete account of what actually happened. While Home Jr. became interested in the subject because of his interest in aviation and plane crashes specifically, he's a commercial pilot, outdoor enthusiast and Idaho history buff,

he became even more invested when he began to learn the stories of the crash victims. For some, the book offered answers to unasked questions and closure they didn't realize they needed. Smokejumper Wayne Williams never knew what had happened to Bess and if she had survived until he read in Selway Shadows that came out last year. Whoa. All that time. And never knew. That's such a, I was expecting this book to be, you know, maybe released in the 90s, early 2000s. 2025 is so recent.

Yeah. I'm so glad to hear that, you know, that it's just, it's still relevant, you know, and it's still very much affects so many different people who are very much alive and well today. And that's just been such a huge part of their life. And to hear that it's still being discussed and talked about and investigated is nice, you know, because for as big of a tragedy as this is, for those who survived this incident and the family and friends of the victims, it's kind of really. believing to know that it's still on the minds of others. And it's not just like this private thing

that you're going to struggle with your whole life. Yeah, that people haven't forgotten that this is still important and still recognizing that this really happened and people lost their lives. And I think it's incredible to hear of people who did survive this going back. And this was such a special place and going back and completing their season. Finishing out a season after that. Yeah. All the, I mean, commend you for that. And I can understand the reasons that they gave.

You know, that's a place of healing. They wanted to be there. It's kind of like get back on the horse or never get back on a whole kind of thing. I guess so. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. So that's my story of the worst aviation disaster in U.S. Forest Service history.

Oh, my gosh. Well, thank you for telling you. And thank you to Molly for recommending the story because I was totally gripped. There was a couple of times I'm like, say something, Daniel. You're on air, say something. But it's okay. I was on a roll too. The air was just, there was so much happening.

And I mean, if people are interested in the book, there's way more information that is in the book, obviously, then we can put in a podcast. And there's just a lot of people and elements that were involved in making and saving the people that needed to be rescued. and everything that went into the investigation with the aircraft as well. Well, remember when I said, correct me if I'm wrong, I'm correcting myself. I did the very first plane crash story of this entire show. What was that? The Mount Rainier one. Oh, yeah, you're so right.

It hit me like halfway through. You started this. I started it. Yeah, that one was tough to you. That was. I actually had a dream this year that has stuck with me. It kind of felt like the energy of a visitation dream, but different. And it's really, it sounds scary and it was scary, but it actually has brought me a lot of peace in a really weird way.

So I never dream about plaint. Like, I don't have the fear that you have or anything like that. I don't stress about air travel. But for whatever reason, I had this super vivid dream. It's like I can almost feel like part of me was actually there. And I was in this plane. And I was in the middle row. You know one of those giant planes that has two seats, an aisle, three seats, an aisle,

and then two seats, like big international flights. And I was in the middle row way up front, not first class or anything, but upfront. In our dreams. No. And all of a sudden something started to happen on the plane. Like it was going down. And I remember just feeling this visceral panic. And I think I was alone because I remember turning behind me to talk to the people who were seated behind me and just being like, oh, my God, oh, my God, we're going to die type of thing.

Yeah. And I just remember feeling so panic. and like fear like I've never felt in my life. And then all of a sudden, as I was freaking out to the people behind me, I had this realization and it makes me want to cry, but I had this realization that like I am accepting that I am, my life is about to end, but I have so much to look forward to because I know I'm about to see Ian and my dad. And I was like, I.

I remember just like having that realization mid freak out and then just being like, okay. And I turned back around and I face forward and like that was it. Like I'm ready. And I had the most sense of peace wash over me. I've never felt my whole life. And I know it was a dream. But it was just like something. Makes you not want to be on an airplane with you.

If this is your. I don't think it's my fate or anything. If you're seeing your fate. Yeah. It didn't feel like a premonition. type thing. It just felt more of like a reassurance that there's nothing to be afraid of type of thing. In death. In death, I think the plane crash was just like the mechanism in which that lesson was being taught to me in this way. So don't be afraid because we have to travel like forever.

Still together. But yeah, I don't know. So that happened a few months ago. And it's just something that has like changed my life kind of um wow you've never yeah i know it was very profound but um feels like it i do think that dreams have a um really special place in our like spiritual well-being and i think that there are a lot of messages that can come through to us in our dreams yeah yeah oh okay well uh very well told told story thank you for sharing it we will be be adding the book to our website of book recommendations. I think we're up to like, because I update it every time we do an episode that references a book as a source. Yeah. I think we're getting up there. We're well over 50 at this point. Cool. So if you're ever looking for book

wrecks that have direct ties to National Park After Dark episodes, they are listed there. And we'll see everyone next week. Yeah. In the meantime, enjoy the view. But watch your back. Bye, everyone. Bye. Thanks for joining us for another episode. We hope you learn something new and have another location to put on your list. If you want more MPAD content, make sure to follow along with our adventures on all socials at National Park After Dark. For more stories just like this one, with the added bonus of exclusive content, you can join us on Patreon or Apple subscriptions. If you prefer to watch our episodes, head over to our YouTube channel. And if you're enjoying the show,

please take a moment to rate, review, and subscribe on your favorite listening platform.