He wasn't lost! - - - really he wasn't!
Let's see now. - - Oh, yeah! Let me tell you about this friends first solo cross-country flight. Most of you know him and I don't want to embarrass him, so I'll call him Hal. I was Hal's flight instructor and had set him up for his first solo cross-country flight and had flown with him over part of the route earlier. On the day for the flight Hal got into the trusty 150, and after the usual thorough pre-flight, he taxied out to the runway. With as much bravado as he could muster he told the tower he was ready for takeoff. Clearance was given and Hal was on his way.
His route was to be a flight from El Paso, Texas, to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico., where he was to get the signature of the flight service station man on duty. Then he was to overfly Lordsburg, New Mexico, and then onto a landing at Columbus, New Mexico. For those of you who aren't that familiar with the New Mexico countryside, Columbus is just across the border from Las Palomas, Mexico, and was the site of a brief invasion by Pancho Villa.
Anyway, Hal was doing fine and soon found himself at T or C, where he got the required log-book entry and had a coke. Then, reading the windsock wrong he made a downwind take-off. Luckily the runway is long enough for this kind of foolishness and Hal was in the air again. This error was just the beginning. Reading his chart and notes he took up a heading for Lordsburg, over some pretty lonesome desert hills. Hal made one of those simple little errors we all make, sooner or later, adding instead of subtracting the wind factor from his true-heading. From 6000 agl (above ground level), landmarks in the desert tend to look alike to a novice and Hal trusted to his erroneous heading. A little ahead of time he spotted a city ahead and thought it was Lordsburg.
In reality it was Silver City, about 70 miles north of Lordsburg. Now that's a pretty big error for us experienced pilots, but ole Hal, he was pleased as all get-out. Fat, dumb, and happy, he set his course south to pick-up the old railroad track that would lead him to Columbus. Well the first sign that things weren't what they should be was flying across a big freeway. Hal was sure puzzled. He had been looking for some railroad tracks, and found them. But, they weren't suppose to be alongside a freeway. Pouring over his map it took him awhile to figure out about where he was. He verified this with the Silver City and Deming VOR's (variable omni range). Well, at least he knew where he was now, and all he had to do was follow the freeway to Lordsburg, and hang a left.
He figured he was about 35 minutes behind schedule, so he pushed the throttle in a bit. Getting to Lordsburg was just a matter of another 25 minutes. Flying over the airport at Lordsburg Hal took a heading south to intersect the road and railroad tracks. He was pleased with himself again, now that he was back on track. All he had to do now was follow the tracks to where they bent around to the east and led into Columbus. Unfortunately; the railroad tracks are boldly displayed on the sectional, but had been abandoned and tore up years earlier. Over the years the desert had overgrown some sections and Hal was hard put to keep sight of his route. He was so occupied with this task that he forgot his time checks, and when he spotted a pipeline heading easterly, he thought they were the tracks and followed them. Oh, I know. Us old-timers wouldn't make a mistake like that, would we?
About the time Columbus should be in sight Hal spotted a city dead ahead. It looked a bit larger then the sectional chart displayed but, what the heck, Hal was starting to learn that what you actually saw and what was on the map were two different things. As he came up on the city he looked around, soon spotting an airport. Getting close he was scratching his head a bit. The sectional showed a unimproved strip, and dead ahead was a long paved runway. Well, Hal was tired and needed to get the bird on the ground, so he landed. Taxiing in he thought some of the buildings looked familiar, but when he saw 'Deming' written on the front of the 'Columbus hanger' he took a minute or so to figure that out. Shaking his head with disgust he turned around and headed for the runway again. Taxiing out he called Deming flight center and gave a brief flight report, skipping the part that he had been lost.
Back in the air he followed the highway south to Columbus, about 30 miles or so. Now he was about an hour behind schedule, and worried that his instructor would be upset. Approaching Columbus he searched the area south of town for the airport, and was perplexed to find it on the wrong side of the road. The map clearly showed it on the east side, but here it was on the west side, with another plane landing on it. Hal's patients were thin about now, and he was thoroughly disenchanted with reading sectional charts that continually lied about where things should be. He landed and was really surprised to find the runway nothing but a rough and bumpy trail. Taxiing up to the end he parked next to the other plane and got out. Stretching and shaking the kinks out, Hal looked around and saw a border patrol checkpoint across the road. He headed that way with his logbook and was met by a border patrol agent who asked if he was going into Mexico. Hal replied:
'No, I'm just on a cross country flight,'
and then asked the agent to sign his log book. The agent did as requested, but Hal received some rather hard looks. In reality, Hal had landed on a private strip, just a few feet from the Mexican border. The Columbus airport was about 2 miles north, cleverly disguised with hangers, rotating beacon, and such. But Hal knew nothing of this. Airborne again, Hal set course east and followed the abandoned tracks to El Paso. With better luck this time he finally spotted the familiar smoke stacks that signaled home and shortly was on the ground, an hour and 35 minutes late. Hal expected the instructor to be on hand with a good chewing out ready. But, luck was still with him (He had gone home for the day) and tying down the 150 he headed home and called him. He gave the instructor a convincing report of strong headwinds all the way. It was a couple of years later, at one of our famous bull sessions, that he confessed to the above story. I laughed and told him
'Welcome to the club!'