My True Alaskan Stories - There Is A God by Larry Owen

That morning as I followed Ramon Ghandia out to the airport in Nome, Alaska, I was excited at the thought of getting my private pilot's license and then continuing my flight training and going on through the ratings to become a commercial pilot.

After serving four years in the U.S. Air Force, working as an Air Traffic Controller and also learning to jump out of perfectly good airplanes, it was a secret dream of mine to learn to fly airplanes. What a concept!

At that time the Federal Government was willing to pay for 90% of all my ratings, including my commercial license. All I had to do to qualify was pay for private flight lessons and get my private pilot's license.

I was newly married and had been out of the military for two years. I felt that my time to learn to fly was now or never. It had never occurred to me that my chance would come in Nome, Alaska.

One day I heard that there was a private flight instructor in town. I got in contact with him and scheduled my first introductory flight. It was scheduled for 10am on the next Saturday morning. This was going to be the day when my dream of learning to fly would become a reality, or so I thought.

Ramon had recently purchased a brand new Cessna 172 tricycle landing aircraft. It was s a beautiful airplane and, at that time, was the only instructional airplane available in Nome. And Ramon was the only instructor in town.

My wife had gone to the elementary school that morning where she taught kindergarten and first grade. She had some work to do in preparation for classes the following week.

We had eaten breakfast together and then she was off to school. I was getting ready to go out the door and drive my pickup to the airport when the thought came to me that maybe I should say a prayer before leaving. I knelt briefly by the couch and said this prayer; "God, if you don't want me to learn to fly, make it impossible." I then jumped into my brand new blue 1970 chevy S-10 pickup and headed for town. I drove a couple of blocks and met up with Ramon on Main Street. He was driving an old red dodge pickup with a fuel tank in the back with a hand pump mounted on the tank.

I followed Ramon to the Nome airport and we drove around his hangar and onto the apron. He pulled up in front of the hangar where his plane was kept. I looked inside, but his airplane was not there. I then looked out toward the main runway and one of his students was on final approach for landing. He was just completing his first solo that would qualify him for a private license. He made an almost perfect landing and then turned off the main runway and onto a parallel taxiway.

As I was standing there looking on, a cross wind caught the aircraft and flipped it on its back. The tail was badly damaged and the tip of one wing was mangled. Fortunately, the student pilot was ok and there was no fire.

In disbelief I watched this scene unfold right in front of my eyes. It was really disheartening to think that I might have to wait weeks before the plane was back in service. Little did I know this aircraft would not be back in service for the balance of my time spent in Nome and there was no other option available for taking flight lessons.

Whether or not you believe there is a God, I accepted this as a sign that I was not supposed to learn to fly airplanes. To this day I have never again had the desire to learn to fly an airplane.

Many years later my wife's sister's husband, Wayne, who was an experienced bush pilot, was killed while flying mail and freight in and out of villages on Alaska's Aleutian Chain.

I have often wondered what my fate might have been if Ramon's Cessna 172 had been available that day in Nome for my first flight lesson.