The following is my first hand account of the crash of N599L on Tuesday morning October 15, 2002, at 9:05 PST. I see it every time I close my eyes and it is my hope that by sharing it, the image can fade a little. If you are upset by such things then please don't read it. There is a powerful lesson here that I hope may save future lives.

Crisp air from a cloudless and still morning filled my lungs. Long strides were taking me down the driveway as I watch 599L pass overhead and to the north.  Loosing sight of it behind the trees as I continued down to see if they were going to land or make a low pass, a request for pickup at the Coeur d'Alene airport.  As I watched from about 750 feet from the threshold and 100 feet from the centerline, 599L came into view. "You're high" I think as the flare begins. The plane settles quickly as it mushes through a high angle of attack, but it's drifting to the right....quickly. "GO AROUND" echoes in my mind, my jaw dropping open but only air rushing in. 501 feet from the threshold the left main touches down, 3 feet left of the right edge of the pavement. Moments later the right main touches down in the gravel. The planes' trajectory is 5 degrees right of the runway heading, 80 Kts. The pilot, struggling for control, adds power but just as the engine responds the right wing tip struck a tree and sheared. A second and then third tree remove the right wing. The plane yaws right 45 degrees as inertia carries it forward, the prop making a crisp half chevron in the dirt. An 8" diameter conifer explodes into three pieces as it shears off the left wing at the root and tail section at the baggage door. The impulse of this collision pitches the nose down and rolls what remains of the airplane left 45 degrees. The last tree strikes halfway up the windshield and removes the entire top of the airplane and passenger door. The impact drives the copilot against his shoulder strap with enough force to yield the metal buckle. He is ejected and lands face down as the engine and fuselage bottom rolled over him, coming to rest upside down on his feet.

I am running now, overpowering stench of hundred low lead tearing at my lungs and eyes. Nate is calling to me as I approach, his leg is broken, his feet are pinned. I try lifting the main gear but can't get the leverage. Jumping over Nate I grab the splintered remains of the wing spar and lift. Nate is still trapped. Looking around for a lever I can hear the fuel pump running. The avionics are all on, the engine is ticking, we have to do this now. I look down at Nate. Through the blood, dirt and pine needles I see his wife and 2 year old daughter in his eyes. I lift. He pulls free and I drag him clear. "You have to get them out of there!" "I will." I cant. Both Barry and Grant are under the fuselage, resting on their sides with calm expression. A single shaft of morning light illuminates their faces. Checking for a pulse, the only sign of life is the trembling of my own hand.

A 911 call, grabbing fire extinguishers, hearing sirens, loading Nate into the ambulance, talking to the Sheriff, the other sheriff, the FAA, phone calls all unfold in a surreal dream.

One hundred and forty feet passed from when the wing tip struck the first tree to where the fuselage stopped. Two heartbeats passed. Two lives passed. The medical examiner assured us that death was instantaneous and painless. It all happened so quickly that there was no time to fear. One moment a bumpy landing followed by eternity. I can only hope that when it is my  time I am so fortunate to have it end without fear or pain while doing something I love.

Now you know "how" but I can't help you with "why". Why the crash? Why not 6 feet farther left? Why did 60 gallons of avgas, a hot engine and a million joules of electricity NOT do what you would expect? Why, in the ultimate irony, did a breaking seat belt buckle save a man's life?

I'll have to ask them when we meet again.

The lesson I promised is this. Remember Grant Bailey and Barry Boepple when you are on short final and a little out of shape. Sure, you are a good enough pilot to collect it up, but are you a good enough pilot to go around? Let them help you make that decision and remember to thank them.

On the note of thanks, I would like to thank all of you that have sent words of support and for letting me share my grief with you. It is are appreciated.

Now please join me in offering support and prayers to the wives and families of Barry Boepple and Grant Bailey. Words fail.....

Regards.
Brent Regan