M artin had piloted the Cessna for years, and this was a routine flight, about a couple of hours : lead payroll to a farm on the south coast and return with empty saddlebags. He landed safely on the track overgrown, and minutes later the flight resumed without further external support than a tattered sleeve indicating wind direction. Off due south and then made a spiral to gain height, then headed toward the device "4 degrees north." Things had changed since he undertook the trip in the morning, the sky had been overcast, but with reasonable visibility, now dressed in a gray, almost black, and the wind that had previously been very calm, whipped from south to north bursts of considerable intensity. Martin weighed his options and, not forgetting his word to his wife to get home for lunch, decided to go ahead. No more was heard of him until a scouting party found the wreckage of his plane in an almost impenetrable ravine on the slopes of an extinct volcano.
The plane showed signs of having been working properly, so everything suggested that Martin became disoriented due to bad weather. It was impossible to determine whether he died on impact, or was seriously injured after the accident, the only clear-anyone who has been the case, is that the unfortunate pilot spent his last moments to see the laminated photo of his wife and children which, 12 years later, still clutching his bones.
The plane showed signs of having been working properly, so everything suggested that Martin became disoriented due to bad weather. It was impossible to determine whether he died on impact, or was seriously injured after the accident, the only clear-anyone who has been the case, is that the unfortunate pilot spent his last moments to see the laminated photo of his wife and children which, 12 years later, still clutching his bones.
