Text by Mary L. Peachin
February, 2025
Vol. 38, No. 6/7
Packing a gun, a snake bite kit, and the recently introduced Walkman headset, Lulu, the Plant Lady, and I met at Tucson International Airport’s Grumman fixed based operator. We planned to fly to Yuma, Arizona to install United Bank’s headquarters with her interior plants and artwork from my gallery.
Having recently sold my ownership in a Cessna T-210, I rented a single engine Grumman Tiger. We took my framer Jack in the plane and sent the artwork and plants in Lulu’s installation truck.
The gun and snake bite kit were a mandatory lesson taught to Lulu by her father. Also a pilot, he never flew in desert country without carrying them as an emergency backup. I did not see either, and I couldn’t share the Walkman because I would be on the radio with Air Traffic Control (ATC).
Taxiing the low-winged airplane to the runway as instructed by the tower, we were cleared for take-off on 11-R. It was a beautiful day as we flew 300 miles over the Sonoran Desert enroute to our installation.
Thirty minutes into the flight, other than the whirring propeller, all went silent. The Grumman’s alternator had failed. We no longer had a radio, flaps, or anything requiring electricity.
Jack was a white-knuckle flyer to begin with, and now he was in a state of panic. We gave him a chart and assigned him the responsibility of looking for emergency landing spots. It was a 45-minute flight to Yuma, and my hope was to keep the airplane flying as long as possible, and hopefully land in Yuma.
US Marines practice their flight training at Yuma airport. They do touch and goes, basically tying up the landing pattern.
In any emergency, the safety procedure is to fly over the airport tower and wiggle the aircraft’s wings. The tower will flash beacon landing instructions. Red flashing lights mean, no! Green is OK, and yellow is to use caution while landing. Over the tower I flew without seeing a signal. A second time, again no signal. I told Lulu and Jack that we were going to enter the pattern with the Marine jets to attempt a landing.
Surely, ATC would have foam on the runway and be prepared for me. Boy, was I mistaken! Without the use of flaps, I was unable to slow the airplane other than using the brakes. The first place I could taxi off the runway was McDonnell Douglas Aircraft. Greeted curiously, they asked, “What is this, the Powder Puff Race Derby?” Hardly! I knew that if I turned off the engine, I couldn’t restart it. I wanted to get to a FBO (Fixed Base Operator) who could repair the problem.
Asking Lulu to hold the brakes, I went into the building to call the Yuma tower. “Hey you guys, didn’t you just see me make an emergency landing?” Silence, then, “we’ll be right over to escort you to an FBO.”
Arriving safely, I turned off the engine, and began a flight check. When I opened the cowling, I found a ruler. What? I called the Tucson FBO to share our harry experience, and I told them they could come pick up their aircraft. I was not going to fly the plane back to Tucson.
In those days, Cochise Airlines flew a route between Yuma and Tucson with a brief stop in Phoenix. We would install the Bank then fly commercially on our return to Tucson. Then I remembered that Lulu had the gun. I told her, “If you get caught, I am going to pretend that I don’t know you.” Jack, without hesitation, chose to return in the truck with Lulu’s installer.
All went well, and Lulu did not get inspected. Only recently did she tell me that she put the gun in her truck. Back in the 80s, there was little, if any, security. The experience was one of several life adventures that ended with my feeling that I had “defied death” once again.
In addition to working together, Lulu and I were adventure buddies.
Not far from the “ranch” she rented near Redington Pass, we spent hours exploring known trails in Saguaro National Park, and bushwacking others. Taking a lunch break near a water tank, I spotted a man taking a bath. Approaching discreetly, we met Tom. He lived higher up the trail in the Rincon Mountains. The tank was his bathtub. He had a bicycle park near the road for transportation to the grocery store and a part time job.
Pat saw him more frequently when he visited the “ranch.”
Many evenings we went searching for critters. The best spot were the moist restrooms in Sabino Canyon. Those evening treks ended when I stepped on a rattlesnake. Luckily my boots saved me from any venom. One incredible day was spent cross country skiing down the dirt road on a very rare snowy Tucson day. We also ventured by horseback annually with our Aravaipa group based at the Elkhorn Ranch in Sasabe, Arizona. One year we had Catherine’s, an upscale Tucson restaurant, cater our ride in Aravaipa Canyon.
Our group of eight women decided to take a break from horseback riding and go scuba diving in San Carlos, Mexico. Sherry Starr and I piloted the women and gear.
Diving San Pedro Island reef at 60 feet, I picked up a conch shell. Suddenly a sea lion was charging us. Pat yelled at me to drop the shell. It was then that I got the message that I had picked up his meal. Dropping the shell, he followed it and left us alone. I now have deep respect for sea lions.
Another memory that can’t be forgotten is when Pat invited me to St. Moritz to learn to ski. Swiss alp slopes, carrying skis to school, and “boot camp” challenges brings up memories of quivering thighs. This desert rat belongs in Tucson.