I am facinated by the vastness of the rugged, pristine beauty of the high country. Everything looks wild, untamed, and unspoiled. What peace I find as the little airplane takes me sailing through the air like a child on a magic carpet. I find myself day dreaming. I was so intoxicated with the whole experience that right now I think I am lost.
Pilots don't like to admit they have ever been lost while flying, but right now the compass shows to the northeast, my ultimate direction in going home. Now, I find myself coming up on a beautiful lake or reservoir. I couldn't be too far off course. I study my chart and confirm where I am at. The reservoir is called Pathfinder. It certainly helped me find where I wanted to be! I am right on course and about sixty miles southwest of Casper, Wyoming.
This has been an odyssey for the Vagabond, Pilot, and me. It seems that to turn the airplane to any point on the compass there is endless beauty. I fly by Independence Rock, a historic land mark on the Oregon Trail. This rock was named on July 4, 1830 in honor of the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. I would suppose this land mark is still a welcome site for today's travelers in this area. "Harlan, you will never learn to fly, and for sure you will never own an airplane."
