As a new warden, I was desperately trying to learn the geography and the layout of my unfamiliar district. So when Warden Pilot Richard Varney offered to take me along in his plane for an aerial view, I said sure.
Dick was a veteran pilot from Readfield and his personality was second to none. The floatplane circled low over the treetops and dropped down onto Unity Pond where it gracefully floated toward me. With a mighty roar of the engine, Dick maneuvered the aircraft to the boat ramp and I climbed aboard.
Once inside, Dick and I exchanged cordial greetings. I tightened the seat belt around my scrawny body. The engine roared again as the plane took off across the lake, picking up speed as we moved along. In no time we abruptly lifted off, rising up into the heavens, leaving the water and land far below us.
I marveled at the great career I had chosen. After all, in what other profession could a rookie summon an airplane at his whim, cruise over the countryside below, and get paid for doing it?
At an altitude of a couple thousand feet, Dick leveled the plane and we began charting the land below us using the topographical maps spread out between the seats. We struggled to find out exactly where we were as Dick had very little experience flying over this area, and I had none.
We circled and banked, swooped down for a closer view, and then climbed back up into the air for a different outlook, searching for landmarks I could recognize.
The steady drone of the engine, along with the constant dipping up and down, banking sharply around one area and then moving to another, was beginning to take its toll. Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling all that well.
Dick noticed my flushed face and how I wasn’t looking down but kept staring straight ahead. The fact that I was no longer communicating with him sealed the prognosis that his passenger wasn’t quite as healthy as he had been.
We were approaching the northern end of Unity Pond when he said, “Hey, John, there’s a couple of people fishing out of a canoe down on the pond. Do you want to drop down and check their licenses and perhaps get a little fresh air?”
I felt as though I was about ready to vomit and I just wanted to land, period. I nodded my approval for him to set the flying beast down. The sooner the better, I thought.
Dick settled the plane down over the pond with a thud, the pontoons striking the water’s surface and slowing us to a mere crawl. He opened the windows of the aircraft, allowing a gush of fresh air into the cockpit. Believe me, by now I fully understood what that old saying “a breath of fresh air” really meant.
I welcomed the cool wind as we taxied across the water, heading for two women fishing from their canoe. They were in a secluded cove, out of sight from the main lake.
Looking forward to an opportunity to move about, I opened the door of the aircraft and unhooked the safety belts holding me firmly in place. At the same time, I repositioned the seat to make it easier to get out of the plane.
Screwing my warden’s hat securely on my head, I suavely jumped down toward the pontoon. The problem was, I didn’t come close to landing on it. Instead, I shot straight down into the water and completely out of sight.
There was no way in the hinges of hell that I wanted to resurface from the bottom of the pond. I could only imagine the fiasco this incident was about to become.
It was a matter of sheer survival that forced me to finally bob back up to the top, where my warden’s hat floated directly above me. I scrambled onto the pontoon, grabbing my hat along the way. There I stood, with water pouring out of my holster and dripping off my head, exposed for the whole world around me to admire. I had to have looked like a drowned duck in a swamp.
All I could hear was Dick’s hysterical laughter coming from inside the plane. Glancing over at the two ladies in the canoe, one of them was pinching her lips, desperately trying to maintain some form of composure. The other lady had already lost hers. She was howling in a fit of laughter.
How would I explain this embarrassing feat in front of two members of the public I’d never met before?
I knew I had to say something to break the ice, so I made it sound like I’d planned such a grand entrance. I glanced toward Dick and sputtered, “I guess they’re legal, Dick; I didn’t see any hidden stringer of fish beneath their canoe!”
My stupid statement enhanced their humor all the more. By now, all three of them were having a great belly laugh. And they were having it at my sorry expense. I could only laugh along with them.
After a quick check of their licenses and an apology for ruining their fishing excursion, Dick and I floated away from the scene of this catastrophe. Rather humbly I told my still-hysterical comrade, “I think I’ve had quite enough flying for today, Dick. You’d better take me back to my cruiser.” Between chuckles, he said, “I’d say you have, John! I promise no one will ever hear about this … ha-ha-ha.”
I knew damn well it would only be a matter of hours before the story of our day together would be told around the state. I wasn’t disappointed.
As a sad footnote to this now-humorous memory, two years later Warden Varney lost his life on Maranacook Lake in the town of Winthrop when the helicopter he was piloting malfunctioned and plunged into the water. Tragically, Dick, who was unable to swim, drowned in the incident.
I still think of that day out on Unity Pond, when I saw my friend share a moment of sheer laughter, even if it was at my expense. I’m sure it was one of the more humorous memories he ever experienced during his long career with the agency. I just wish it hadn’t been about me.