Evening star., 1925-06-18
BY FREDERICK X. NEEIY.


his war days. He was waiting for
the Omaha plane which had been
forced down at Grand Island, Neb., on
account of severe fog. The pilot had
telephoned from the emergency sta.
ton. however, that he would be un
der way in a few minutes, so once
again we We're ahead of the mail
plane in our transcOntinental run.
They told us the jump TO Rock
Springs. 235 miles distant, was about
the worst of the entire western divl-
sion. AMI this is flown at night. too.
We got a few tips from the mail pi
lot and he also gave us relief map
he had made of the course. which
we could leave at Rock Springs
and he would pick up later, when he
came through with the eastern mail
Four leaks in the radiator were dis
covered just before we took off and
they should have been repaired, but,
imbued with the spirit of the mail
TO get on if possible and with San
Francisco our goal, we prepared to
depart. Bearing in mind the almost
fatal experience of a naval officer who
at this altitude of 600 feet couldn't
get off the ground, hit a fence with
his tail skid bounced into "A grand
stand and then caught fire. we backed
the tail of the ship right up against
the rim of lights and headed the nose
into the wind.
The back seat passenger didn't
buckle his safety belt. preferring to
be unhampered in case of a nose-over
or other difficulty. The mail De HIS
get off all right, but our tub was
loaded down with so much extra and
tricky stuff we We're not so sure. Then
came the next few seconds of anxious
waiting While the wheels raised from
the ground and then settled, raised
and settled, raised and settled, and
SIGH nj TalieT the shin started
to climb.
Cross Waste Land.
We head across some waste bar
rem land at Sill o'clock eastern time,
or Gil Cheyenne time, climbing all
the while, until we reach 5000 feet
above the ground, or 9 1000 above sea
level. We fly north of Laramie, Wyo.,
and pick up the Union Pacific rail
road The Snow-capped mountains,
called humps" by the boys and de
nominated Black Hills on the map,
sparkle in the morning sun. The
ground is formed like a heavy-run-
ming sea suddenly rendered station
ary and light green in color. The tips
of the waves are yellow. All around
us the ground is sprinkled with sage
brush or something that looks like
this western curiosity. We continue to
climb. Everything is quiet, and at
10 900 feet we find ourselves the only
living souls for as far as the eye can
see About % miles away are more
snow-capped humps. Visibility is as
clear as a bell, the air is cool and in
vigorating. We pause in this unusual
state of affairs to reflect for a moment
on what they told US at Cheyenne-of
the boys coming in at 20 degrees be
low zero and with deep snow on the
ground. Skis, of course, take the place
of wheels then. In this rough country
10 Il n
at night, onto ground that would be
extremely difficult for an experienced
pilot to get into during the day. Pure
luck! In one case the plane couldn't
take off again and it had to be
knocked down and hauled out
Approach Desert.
The needle or the altimeter moves
beyond 10000 feet and we approach
a ridge resembling a hill compared
with those about us. but there is snow
on ii so it must be pretty high. A
valley is at the foot of this ridge on
the other side and is called the "des-
ert" by our friend in Cheyenne. He
told us, We now remember, to keep
our eyes open for a dry lake and not
TO mind the growth within it. 1t re-
sembleS Sagebrush, but is grea Sc
wood, into which the plane can land
without damage. He said he had land
ed in it up to the hub of his propel-
Ter several times. SO we begin look
ing for dry lakes and greasewood.
Then we wonder about the four leaks
in the radiator. Well, we've got lot
to think about and we recall how
often we've written about the mail
pilots flying from Cheyenne to Rock
Springs and let it so at that.
Over the desert" we see few cor
rails and a few head of cattle grazing
in the distance. Little lakes and
streams dot the broad stretch. giving
II a fertile appearance. But there is
not a tree to be seen. When we stop
seeing trees we think we must be in
pretty wild country. We cross over
the Union Pacific at a little town call
ed Bosier-there are II houSes-we
counted them. 1t now looks as though
the skipper would follow the railroad
on into Rock Springs. We were ad
vised to. because if we had to set
down. on the air line course running
over the Bad Lands we would be
20 miles from nowhere and in coun
try, it was said where a snake
couldn't live. All the population up
this way centerS about the railroads.
We are now surrounded on every side
by snow-capped mountains running
up to sharp points, as sharp as the
careless cartoonistl draws them.
NoIibIftut VII -SUuI
We are still using railroad maps,
and ii is fun to watch the turn of the
railroad on the ground and see it de-
picted exactly on the map. We check
the little towns along the way. They
are all about the same size as Bosier
The beaConS of the mail parallel the
railroad and are on the north side
At $40 a big mass of rock breaks
the SmOOthneSs of the desert and
the map tells us it is Medicine Bow
We now pass between two peaks; one
TO the left is covered with snow and
the other is just drearylooking and
no color at all. The valley at the foot
of the range through which we passed
is a succession of rough terraces and
is full of dried-up streams. At 9:53 we
cross the Platte River again; this
time it is just a stream, and we watch
it flow TO the right and see it widen
gradually. We pass over Rawlins
where the eaStbound planes land, but
we go on because we do not need
fuel. 1t is pretty little city in this
cheerleSS country, with eight main
streets running east and west and IA
running north and south. Oil tanks
border the town. We are in the land of
Teapot Dome The grazing ground has
disappeared, everything is sandy-look-
ing, with splotcheS of Sagebrush
here and there. Now comes the Red
or is vermillion, and it stands out
against the other hues. We keep our
eyes on the railroad, frequently saw
ing off Is or 90 miles, while it makes
a turn northward, and pick up Rock
srNrjr1 NiHrn 1yyfa lotO