Proxy blog from my brother: 

My brother is a retired police officer from Oakland California. That says a lot right there without having to elaborate. He was conscientious and dedicated, but that location and all it entailed took its toll. He left the job when his partner was shot and paralyzed. He's done well for himself by building from scratch one of the highest quality alarm and security firms in the Bay Area. He's now retired from that as well, and acts as a distant advisor from his base on the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe.

He's also an avid pilot and owns several planes, including a gorgeous German glider, and the plane above. The little blue and white gem is a Husky, a classic bush airplane, often used in Alaska. Our own OS former Alaskan Arlene may well be very familiar with it.

One great thing about it is that it can land and take off from just about anywhere, needing only a few dozen yards to accomplish either. Last time I visited we went up for a ride, I'm pictured in the image below next to the Husky in what he claimed was a drug strip in the middle of nowhere. He's still connected to law enforcement through some buddies and I don't doubt his judgement. (We landed there not to participate in anything illegal, but I was desperate to pee.)

Anyway, John was on his way back from visiting his in-laws and the story unfolds from there. I'll let him tell it in his words sent to me via e-mail. 

Jan and I spent the last week in Oregon, flying up to Sun River first, then over to her Uncle's ranch about 38 nm east of Burns. We had thunderstorms in the area both Monday and Tuesday, so the Husky was tied down in the alfalfa field with both screw in and fly-ties type anchors, had so many lines on it that it looked like something out of Gulliver's Travels. 

 

Early Wednesday morning we launched for home, stopping for a stretch near the north end of the Black Rock Desert. The playa is many miles in width and length and most all of it is landable when dry. 

 

Back in the air, I stayed a few feet off the deck for ten minutes or so, then climbed to 50 feet as the smoke from the California fires reduced visibility enough to take most of the fun out of flying low. 

 

Near the south end of the desert, just east of where they hold the Burning Man thing, I spotted a body lying face down in an area where there were lots of tire tracks. Completely forgetting about moose stalls, I circled low and marked the spot on the Garmin where the body lay face down. Jan, in the back seat, said she saw him move his hand. Looked dead to me, so I figured she might be imagining it. 

 

While maneuvering, I spotted a car parked 1.5 miles out and thought it might be connected. Turned out to be couple spending the night on the playa. They waved and I landed next to their car to ask if they knew anything about the man - - no joy. I flew back and landed next the body and they followed us over. 

 

The man had only trousers on, there was blood on his head and abrasions on his back. He was able to say a few words but couldn't move. I called on 121.5 and got an airliner to relay the info to Reno. They relayed back that they'd dispatch a CareFlight helicopter. We put the Husky wing over him for shade and got a bit of water down him. The Helicopter took 45 minutes to reach us as they came from Reno some 95 miles to the south. 

 

Turns out the guy initially wanted to end it all. Took maybe 100 over-the-counter sleeping pills, some whiskey, and then bailed out of his car at speed. He had no idea how long he'd been on the desert but I guess the heat and suffering woke up his desire to survive. Had our track been 100 yards either way, he'd probably still be out there, though I'm sure he would not have lasted another day. 

Oh—he mentions  a "moose stall" above. A moose stall is pilot speak for something fairly dangerous. It's when you see something and you want a closer look—as in "Oh, look! That's a moose!" But by reducing your speed and doing a slow tight turn, you run the risk of entering your own prop wash, which plays hell with your ability to maintain control of your aircraft. Plenty of pilots have used that maneuver as their last one ever.