Daybreak in Wolcott, NY
Sunbeams were made tangible by residual morning haze and highlighted the chaotic flight paths of swarming mosquitos. The Bear and I prowled through the woods, moving cautiously as the ground was obscured by knee deep undergrowth that hid dead tree limbs and other traps that made footing treacherous. Pushing past branches, occasionally snagged by thorns, we made our own path. Deeper into the woods, our footfalls began to squelch as the ground softened on the edge of a marshy area.
The Bear held her phone before her like a digital divining rod. "I think it's that way," she offered in a tone that fell short of sounding confident. We had searched for twenty minutes, both of us silently contemplating the possibility that our foray into the woods that morning might be for nothing.
Eventide Glory
| Date | Aircraft | Route of Flight | Time (hrs) | Total (hrs) |
| 08 Jun 2026 | N21481 | SDC (Sodus, NY) - local flight | 0.7 | 3159.9 |
It was a throwback flight, the kind I used to make frequently from South Haven, MI during my first year as an aircraft owner. I was aloft near dusk, camera at the ready, hoping to capture a glorious sunset over a Great Lake.
Mother nature did not disappoint.
While repositioning myself over Sodus Bay, I was struck by the sharply defined anti-twilight arch and watched as it was gradually swallowed by deep blue from below, the growing shadow of Earth cast on its own atmosphere.
I brought the Warrior back around toward Lake Ontario and was struck by the crystalline blue above, tangerine sunset hues smudged by clouds, and glassy water of the bay mirroring residual light from what was otherwise a world already in shadow.
I captured the evening's last gasp as it spread across the horizon in a shade approaching the visible spectrum's very edge. Deeply satisfied, I switched off my trusty Canon and safely cached it in a protective case
Complacency
When I noticed a vibrant ruby coloring reflected by my wing, I decided to get one last picture. Having already packed away the Canon, I knew that the iPhone would suffice.
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| Over Manhattan, 21 July 2024, photographing through the open window. Photo by Alyssa. |
I have been taking pictures from aircraft for longer than I have been a pilot, more than twenty-five years. I am often asked how I manage to capture such clear images and the answer is simple: I take them through an open window whenever possible. The next question people usually ask is, "Have you ever lost anything out the window?"
Of course not.
Not in twenty-five years.
I opened the small pilot side vent window and heard the familiar rushing sound of the airplane's slipstream as it flowed past. I positioned my iPhone to take a shot and as I moved to snap a picture...
Ffffff...WHOOOOOSH!
White noise of the slipstream was momentarily interrupted and a small black rectangle raced aft, barely tracked in my peripheral vision, and then it was gone.
That did not just happen.
But it did. I moved through the stages of grief rather quickly, but dawdled in denial. I attained acceptance before touching down softly at Sodus with one of those landings so aerodynamically pure that they only happen when no one is around to witness them.
Dumb Luck
(With emphasis on "dumb")
My Apple watch is cellular enabled, so once back at the airport, I called Kristy.
"Hi! When you track me, where do I show up?" I asked brightly.
My wife was immediately suspicious. I sounded too chipper for 9:00 at night, but she investigated anyway. "You're in...Wolcott?"
"Really?" I said. "And is that an old position or is it showing that it's live?"
"It's live," she confirmed.
I laughed and explained to my puzzled wife what had happened. When I was done, and because Kristy had me on speaker, I could hear The Bear laughing in the background. If the phone was broadcasting live, that meant two things. First, it was unbroken despite a 2,600 foot fall from an airplane. Second, it did not make a water landing in Lake Ontario, which was a distinct possibility given my position over the shoreline.
Kristy was not laughing. "I'm glad the two of you think this is funny."
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| Screenshot from The Bear showing my phone in Wolcott, NY. |
Moments later, I received this screen shot from The Bear. My iPhone had landed in a woods just east of Chimney Bluffs State Park. It had missed Lake Ontario (barely), a marsh to the east (also barely), and East Bay Road to the west (even more barely).
There would be no point in tramping through the woods that night and no one was going to stumble across it where it fell. "Hey, Little Bear, want to go on an adventure tomorrow morning?"
Naturally, The Bear was game.
Kristy snorted and predicted that we would get arrested for trespassing.
Ping!
And so, The Bear and I found ourselves in Wolcott, NY at 8:00 am the next morning after nearly an hour drive to the east edge of Chimney Bluffs State Park. I planned to use The Bear's phone to get close, then ping the iPhone with my Apple watch. Calling the phone would not be productive, I perpetually keep it in silent mode. I did not know it at the time, but at some point, "Find My" had been deactivated on the phone. It could not be tracked as a device, could not be wiped remotely, and could not be made to emit an audible locating ping with The Bear's phone. Despite that, my phone's location still showed when anyone in my family tried to track me as an individual and that tenuous thread led us to Wolcott that morning.
We contemplated the dense woods from East Bay Road and I tried pinging the phone with my watch, but received an error that no phone was detected. It was clearly out of Bluetooth range. I had not anticipated that problem, but it made sense in hindsight. We just needed to get closer. Fortunately, the phone battery was still going after its night in the woods and The Bear still showed a live position for "me".
For twenty minutes we picked our way through the treacherous undergrowth. Though the mosquitos were swarming, they were young and remained below waist height, clinging impotently to our pants and completely ignoring our exposed faces. Our position on The Bear's phone screen bounced around, but she led us forward as I made periodic attempts to ping the phone.
Beginning to wonder if it was all for naught, I tapped the "ping iPhone" icon for the fifth time. This time, I did not receive an error. After a brief delay...
CLANG CLANG CLANG-CLANG!
The Bear and I locked eyes in triumph. I continued pinging the phone and we followed the sound. Tens of feet deep into the small forest, our shoes squelching through the muddy terrain, The Bear suddenly stopped and pointed. "There it is!"
Beneath some dense growth lay the iPhone, screen up and reflecting indirect morning light.
The Bear scrambled into the undergrowth, then backed herself out while proudly brandishing the errant smart phone. It was muddy, but otherwise completely unscathed and fully functional.
Victory!
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| Lake Ontario. |
The Bear and I walked to Lake Ontario and cleaned the mud from our shoes.
We commemorated the moment with a beach selfie (from my recovered iPhone, of course) before starting the long drive back home. The Bear was very pleased with herself for putting her geocaching skills to practical application.
The smartest thing I did during the whole incident was re-enable "Find My" on the phone.
Ten Feet, Eh?
At home, I dismantled the svelte case that protected my phone after it plummeted 2,600 feet. I was amused to note that the inside of the case was embossed with "10 feet drop-tested".
Clearly, I am an overachiever.
But, you know, in a really dumb way.
