AYDAY! MAYDAY! We are going in the water!

Our lives were in Dave's hands as he eased the powerless Cessna onto the waves. The fuselage thrummed as it skimmed the surface sending up a curtain of spray the length of a football field.

My lovely wife Terry was behind Dave on the left. Our precious little Mary was behind me. Four years old and only 36 pounds, she had no fat to protect her from the cold. Even if we survived the landing, she could be dead in minutes. I felt powerless. Little Mary was precious to me. I determined that I would not abandon my baby. If necessary, I would use my last moments of consciousness to push her toward the surface. Even if I died, she must live! I would not give up. I would not stop, as long as I was conscious, I would do everything possible to save her.

Dave held the steering yoke back keeping the nose out of the water. Eventually the propeller touched a wave. In an instant, the plane plunged in violently, the tail swung high to the right before smashing hard on the surface.

Dazed we looked up to see foamy green water completely covering the windshield and part way up the side windows. We were floating 45 degrees nose down and tipped to the left with rivulets of cold water pouring in.

Minds racing and hearts pounding! What do we do? We can not stay here and drown! Terry said "Open the door."

I said "Not yet."

Seeing that Dave's door was lower than mine, I grabbed the strap holding my door closed believing that air would be trapped from the top of Dave's door up to the cabin ceiling. Air was warmth, floatation and life. In this cold water we would be gasping, unable to hold our breath.

Gasping or not, I determined to wait while my wife and daughter got out, then I would follow.

Again Terry said "Open the door!" This time Dave lifted the handle and pushed while Terry shoved her leg around behind his seat and both with the strength of desperation forced that door open against the inrushing water.

OHHHHH NOOOO! NO, NO, NO!

Too fast, the water rushed in and with a horrible gut wrenching feeling the plane dropped. We were sinking! As the swirling waters rushed over my head, I desperately tried to take a last breath only to have icy water fill my gasping mouth. Quickly I groped up and back for air against the cabin roof but felt none. A deadly reality shook my soul! This Cessna was on it's death plunge with us trapped inside and in this cold, we would not be able to hold our breath long enough to reach the surface. Our lives would end with the breath in our lungs. But I had to stay where I was. Those I loved had to get out. I had to wait so they could live, but waiting was death!

Then with sudden hope, I realized that I did not have to keep my door closed, there was no air to keep in. I could escape taking Mary with me.

With this desperate hope and numb fingers I fumbled for the door handle. Through the cold murky water I could not see the handle, nor could I feel it. Slowing down, I deliberately placed my left hand on the arm rest and slid it forward feeling for the drop off indicating the handle, but with adrenalin numbed hands, and a head impact against the steering yoke, I could not feel the door handle. Six times I tried to no avail.

With relief I realized that I was not gasping for breath. Also as the water cleared I was beginning to see blurs of light that were the windows. This, plus the realization, that the water pressure was not building against my ears meant that the plane had slowed it's decent. We were just below the surface. THERE WAS HOPE!

Having forced his way out through the inrushing water, Dave was now at the surface looking down through the back cabin window. He could see Terry and Mary.

The water had rushed in leaving a pocket of air against the back window. Terry and Mary could still breathe.

With a hand on little Mary's back, Terry pushed her down towards Dave's door. Mary twisted around grabbing her mother and looked into her eyes as Terry put her hand on Mary's front and forced her under and out into the open sea. Mary never made a sound.

She could not see!

She could not swim!

She could not breath!

Nothing within reach!

No one holding her!

Without hope!

Alone!

Terror crushed in on her little soul, but she did not give up, she held her breath and with it, her last moments of hope.

Watching from above, Dave reached down. Mary remembers being grabbed by her right thigh and dragged up to the light. Without uttering a sound she now clung desperately to the man who pulled her back from death.

Terry following a moment later, searched the water to make sure Dave had pulled Mary to the surface.

Back in the cabin, the foamy dark water was clearing while my eyes adjusted. Turning left I could only see the windows as lighter rectangles in the murk. Quietly I watched for any silhouette. Nothing moved. Realizing that a person would be moving and near the ceiling, I was sure they had escaped.

Stretching out long, I shoved off, gliding over Dave's seat and out his door. Following the light, I swam up behind the left wing.

Anxiously, I scanned for my family. Already shivering with cold, Mary clutched Dave's neck. Terry was between them and the fuselage. Most of the wing was underwater with only the back edge sloping to 8 inches above the surface. The tail of the plain angled up steeply. The rear cabin hatch was wide open. Instantly I understood. As the cold water rushed in, our precious air rushed up and out this rear hatch.

Back to priorities, Mary was in immediate danger, she was shivering and could soon die! I shouted "Put Mary onto the plane.

Terry said "No, she will fall off." Then pulling herself high enough to look over the wing, Terry shouted there is a boat coming.

With relief, I realized Mary would live!

Then the tail angled more steeply dumping the air trapped inside the back window and the plane sank faster. As the open hatch slid under, I realized the plane was lost and swam backwards to avoid the tail.

Dave was bleeding down his face, treading water with one hand and holding Mary with the other. Swimming to them I told Mary to get on my back, she new not to crawl onto my head. This way I was swimming with both hands.

We could now see two men, Ray and Donavan in Ray's small commercial fishing boat motoring towards us. I shouted "Take the little girl and keep her warm!" Donavan, this being his first day on the ocean lifted Mary and cuddled her in his black Raiders jacket.

A few minutes later we were all rejoicing in our survival. By now, 3 more boats had gathered around when Mary started crying for her lost Teddy Bear. Suddenly our small Coleman ice chest, Terry's day pack with wallet and a camera and Mary's little white Teddy Bear popped to the surface. Another boat scooped it in their salmon net and handed it to our now smiling Mary.

On the way down, I thought about swimming to shore. Dave would probably make it, but slender Terry would probably die from the cold. I undoubtedly would be towing our dead baby girl to shore. As little as ten more minutes in that cold water may have been the end of Mary. The quick arrival of rescue boats meant her survival. This still brings tears to my eyes thinking about it!

Intense fear and the resulting adrenaline flood prevented us from feeling pain or cold. Not feeling the cold allowed us to hold our breath long enough to survive.

I had been videotaping the seashore until the engine stopped. I then switched to narrating our decent. Just before touching down, I placed the camera on the floor. I never saw it again.

The following weekend, I had a head cold. The second weekend was stormy. Finally, three weeks later, I scuba dove for the plane and video camera in only 6 foot of visibility. I followed an underwater path of crushed barnacles and chipped boulders for a half mile before running out of air. The storm had battered the plane against the boulders as it worked out to deeper water. In the rough sea, I surfaced out of sight from the Zodiac so was following a compass heading back. Fortunately I was spared the long swim by Ray who once again picked me up.

Some people say we were very lucky. I agree adding that only part of it was good luck though.

Friends on shore at Shelter Cove said they were surprised to see us. We joked that we wanted to drop in to surprise them. When asked if that was a sea plane and an underwater video camera, we said "They are now."

With the insurance money, Dave bought a motor home.

Ray told Donovan that he would take him out fishing one more time, but if something like this happened again, he would not take him a third time.

This crash was Sunday May 3, 1992 about ¾ mile south of Shelter Cove California. The Plane was a Cessna Turbo 210 over head wing with retractable gear.

Mary is now a healthy teen and as lovely as her mother. She stays out of small planes.