Pilot error is the probable cause of a 1949 single engine plane crash on Blood Mountain in Newbury New Hampshire. As with several other crash sites deep within our mountains, the body was removed but the wreckage remains, and if you ever make the journey to one of these spots, you'll understand why this is a practical decision.
Our expedition to this crash site was a classic case of don't believe everything you read online. Described as a 1.25 mile hike, our directions said to follow a logging road up the mountain until reaching the spot, insinuating that the road led directly to the wreckage and we were facing 2.5 miles round trip over something casual enough my Jeep could crawl up it.
We found the logging road at the base of the mountain, and although it seemed headed in the wrong direction, a helpful bear hunter showed us on his map how it eventually curved uphill and toward the peak. So far so good, and we crossed this small bridge over Blood Brook to begin our journey.
The logging road was an enjoyable hike that got us halfway up the mountain, but then it continued east when my GPS insisted we needed to turn south, and there was not a southern trail to be found. It also insisted that the crash zone was still almost a mile away. No matter how many times I re-positioned it the answer came back the same, so ignoring my wife's reminder that this was supposed to be an easy hike (a reminder punctuated by her patented stink-eye), I announced that it was time to begin our bushwhack.
Into the thicket we went, and although I had to endure more pestering of are we there yet than during the last family drive to North Carolina, thirty minutes later we found the wreckage. So much for the promise of 2.5 miles by dirt road though, by the time we trudged out of the woods later that day we had logged over 5 miles on foot, with a good portion of it bushwhacking.
Accounts I've read say the engine was thrown clear of the plane's carcass on impact, so we split into two directions with me searching for the engine. As a non-mechanic who rarely ventures beyond the yellow-capped items beneath my hood, I still assumed that what I was looking for would look like a big car engine and I'd know the thing when I saw it. Although I didn't find quite what I imagined I would, I came across this spiral armed thing that I believe to at least be part of it.
We also found that, through either the force of the crash or 70 years of growth, some of the plane's debris is actually embedded in surrounding trees.
The fuselage rests downhill from the engine, still possessing enough resemblance to a plane to give me pause, reminding me that this was an area of great tragedy.
I sometimes worry that there's a fine line between visiting a plane crash site to respectfully view the wreckage and learn about the victims, or just being a big old looky-loo. Maybe it's just something each person has to decide for themselves, but I feel comfortable that we fall into the former category and not the latter.
Soon it was time to leave, but rather than being daunted by the treacherous return hike, I attacked the thick brush with raised spirits, happy that our group of friends was able to be out here on this beautiful day, enjoying nature and each others company, and feeling fortunate knowing we'd still have countless more opportunities like this in our future.
Related Links:
http://www.soonipi.com/crash.html - Sunapee Mountain Plane Crash Remembered
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