Crash Journal of Fraser Vogel - 1. Crash Journal of Fraser Vogel

This is Fraser Vogel. I was flying my private plane, a Cessna 182 Skylane, from Cheyenne Regional Airport, WY to Spokane International Airport, WA on Sunday July 27th, 2025 to attend a meeting the next day. I ran into mechanical problems and had to abandon the aircraft. I’ve included my attempt to contact ATC.

Hopefully I’ll survive.

“November 9292 Foxtrot declaring an emergency. I’ve lost yoke and engine.”

“Repeat, this is November 9292 Foxtrot declaring an emergency. I’ve lost yoke and engine.”

And apparently comm as well.

"MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY, Fraser Vogel, November 9292 Foxtrot, if anyone can hear me, my current location is 45° 35' 18" N, 113° 43' 35" W, heading 301 degrees, I’ve lost yoke and engine, and am abandoning aircraft and parachuting.”

Okay, I have my disaster pack and parachute. Thank goodness it’s summer. Jumping above the Rockies any other time of the year would be a long, cold suicide.

Fortunately, I was able to direct my landing just above a valley, on the downslope of a mountain. I see the smoke from my plane perhaps three or four miles to the northwest of my location. The compass app tells me it’s at 305 degrees from my location, so I apparently drifted somewhat south of my last heading.

Apparently, the closest at town is Wisdom, Montana. That’s approximately a thirteen and a half mile walk just north of east from the closest logging road to my landing point.

Google Maps claims it’s about a six and a half hour walk from Foothills Road, which is approximately a mile and a quarter east of me, through thick woods. It’s four-twenty PM, which means unless I want to run over rough terrain, and a dirt logging road, it’ll be dark by the time I get there. Maybe I’ll get lucky and a car will pass on the “highway.”

Google tells me that I may run across all kinds of wildlife. Little animals, like grizzly bears, black bears, gray wolves, mountain lions (cougars), and coyotes. Okay, not little.

I have three Orion Red Handheld Locate Flares 3-Packs. If I encounter more than nine dangerous animals, I’ll revert to my Glock 19 and two fifteen round magazines. I’ll fire in the air to frighten the animal first but will shoot it if it comes to that. OK, I’m off to find Foothills Road. It’s 4:45 PM.

5:15 PM: It’s been tough going. The trees are close enough together that an adult grizzly or black bear would be knocking down small trees to get through. Needless to say, I haven’t heard or seen anything yet. I’m about three quarters of the way from where I landed to Foothills Road.

5:30 PM: I made it to the road. As expected, it’s no more than a one lane dirt logging road. I did see a badger, but it didn’t come near me. On the road, there’s more room for the larger animals to maneuver. But so far so good; none currently in sight.

6:00 PM: I saw a few coyotes. I must have been upwind since I was able to duck into the trees, apparently unobserved, twice. It hindered my progress, but waiting a few minutes for the pack to move away seems more prudent than confronting them. I suspect they don’t often see people out here and wouldn’t be afraid of me.

Did I say I was happy this happened in the summer? I’m not all that happy. Even at roughly 6600 feet above sea level, it’s still fucking hot.

6:45 PM: Grizzly bears are huge. I’m not sure if it was two bears or the same one twice, but the flares have worked reasonably well so far. Unfortunately, two flares per bear doesn’t leave me a lot of wiggle room. I’ve traveled about a mile on Foothills and have arrived at a clearing. It appears to be a little over a mile before I’ll have the ability to get into trees for cover again. I’m hoping I’ll reach that point unobserved and quickly.

7:00 PM: At the next tree line now. No confrontations since the last entry. I need to keep up the quicker pace of I want to reach the highway before dark. It’s a winding road, but straying from it for any other reason than hiding from an animal could get me lost. It’s another four miles before I get to the highway.

8:15 PM: The trees thin out quite a bit now, and I’m still about a half mile from the highway. I’ve been hearing what I can only surmise is a mountain lion for the past ten minutes. Each growl has sounded closer. The last two were eerie, high-pitched screams. The last one sounded like the lion was practically on top of me. I fired a flare after the first scream. Didn’t seem to make a difference. The Glock stays in my right hand from here to town; only four flares left.

9:55 PM: Can’t write easily. It seems there being trees along Route 43 wasn’t a good thing. The mountain lion was on me before I even knew it was there. They say two out of three ain’t bad. Four out of five definitely is. I’ve got scalp lacerations, facial wounds, bite marks on the shoulders, and defensive wounds on the forearms and left hand.

The only common injury survivors have that I didn’t get, are neck punctures. Thankfully.

ChatGPT didn’t mention deep claw marks on both upper arms. I have those too. One was bleeding pretty badly. I’ve got it wrapped tightly, but I think I lost a lot of blood.

After I was knocked down, I was able to get my right arm up enough to fire the Glock. That sucker was tough. I guess I didn’t hit it in a crucial spot right away. But by the time the clip was empty, it stopped moving. I’m feeling lightheaded. I shot three more flares while I was writing this entry. Hopefully someone saw them.

10:45 PM: I guess I passed out. I just shot the last flare. I took down another mountain lion after that didn’t chase it away. I saw that one coming and had already struggled to load the second clip. Left arm is pretty useless. I’m sure I can’t stay awake much longer. Hopefully, someone saw one of the flares and arrives before another animal smells blood and comes to finish me off.

If someone finds this journal next to what’s left of my body after another attack, tell my parents I love them and I fought as hard as I could.

William and Janet Vogel
1199 Hereford Ranch Rd
Cheyenne, WY 82007

Tuesday? Wednesday? I woke up enough to ask a nurse for my journal. I don’t know what day it is or where I am, other than a hospital. Maybe next time I wake up I’ll know more.

Thursday, July 31, 9:00 AM: It was yesterday when I woke up and asked about my journal. Today, I discovered I’m at Granite County Medical Center in Philipsburg, MT. No surprise injuries, although the deeper cut on my left bicep tore muscle, so that’ll take a bit to recover.

Apparently, someone saw me on the side of the road around 11:30 Sunday night and called 9-1-1. I got to ride in a helicopter. Didn’t know it of course. The Samaritan didn’t give his or her name, so I’ll never be able to thank them. I suspect I’d be dead if they didn’t go past me that night.

I get to go home tomorrow. Mom drove from Cheyenne nearly eleven hours Tuesday and yesterday. We’ll probably split the driving on the way back. She’s sixty-six and I’m forty-two. It’ll make sense if I drive more.

The plane’s Emergency Locator Transmitter’s last transmission allowed the authorities to locate my plane. It was a total loss. I expected that based on the amount of smoke I saw. Well, I guess that’s what insurance is for.

Friday, 11:30 AM: I’m out of the hospital. On my way home. I’ll need physical therapy for the left bicep.

I suppose that’s a fair price to pay for an encounter with a mountain lion.

The End