How a plane crash with 3 tons of marijuana changed life in Yosemite

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In 1976, a smuggling plane carrying three tons of marijuana crashed in Yosemite National Park. When the hippie extremes learned about this, a real fever began in Yosemite.

Participants of this event told Men's journal how it changed their lives.

It seemed to John Glisky that someone was trying to kill him. This thought tormented him when he called his wife Pam from a hotel in Las Vegas.

The time between flights for Glinski was a real torture: when he was alone, different thoughts began to creep into his head. After calling his wife, he sent a package for their daughter - a toy tea set. Later that evening he went to dinner at the steakhouse, where he accidentally met an old army friend. They stayed in the bar until late at night, remembering service in Vietnam over another glass of expensive scotch - how they took the stolen jeep by air to the hangar in Quangtri and how they were close to death under fire. Glisky laughed, but, despite the seeming friendliness, he was on a platoon: then he discovered a damaged gasket oil filter left engine of his aircraft. He knew that it was not normal wear and tear.

The next morning, Glisky, with his colleague and only passenger, Jeff Nelson, went to Mac-Carran Airport. There a monster with two engines was waiting for them - Howard 500. This aircraft could take on 5000 liters of fuel, which allowed him to make long flights at high speed. As soon as they took off, Glisky turned south toward Mexico. He crossed the border and flew to Baja California, where he landed on a dirt runway. Later, under cover of night, a group of people plunged three tons of Mexican marijuana. It was a type of powerful synsemily, a premium herb grown by an American syndicate known as Mota Magic. She was packaged in 18-kilogram jute bags.

Glisky and Nelson soared, not waiting for dawn, December 9 1976. Returning to the US airspace, they flew along the edge of the coast, so that everyone who tracked the plane thought it was an administrative plane heading to San Francisco or Seattle with big bumps on board. Having flown half of the state, Glisky turned off the running lights and turned sharply toward the mainland, descending in order to remain unnoticed. Flying over the sparsely populated agricultural region of the California Valley, the plane quickly reached the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. In the rays of moonlight Howard 500 skirted the rocky slopes like a sea devil.

Ron Likins and a colleague completed their work shift at the famous Yosemite Hotel. Ahwahnee, they loaded things into the car to leave for the weekend.

Staff in Ahwahnee was cool: it was the young guys who could not live without the rocky mountains of the valley, where God seems to have lost all sense of proportion. For most of the year, the waiters lived in 4х4 canvas tents with other low-level employees. The tents were well equipped, they had oil heaters and wooden floors, and the staff did not pay for the shower and received hot meals in the dining room for free; they sometimes shared these privileges with hippies and climbers who came by minibuses from San Francisco, Berkeley or Los Angeles to come off and enjoy the natural splendor.

Likins and his friend parked there, where the snow machines did not reach. They put on their snowshoes and before the nomination they made a direct route through the winding road, the fastest possible route up the mountain slope. They traveled about 12 kilometers and lost count of marks on the trees that indicated the path. Likins slid into a steep depression. Lake Merced Pass, 25 of thousands of square meters of water, which are not marked on most maps, was spread in its very center. Likins began to inspect the area to understand where to go next, and came across something unusual. From afar, it seemed to him that it was a suspension bridge between two snow-covered pines. Getting closer, he realized that this is the wing of the plane. Hydraulic oil from a worn-out drive still flowed on the snow. There were no other debris or signs of a plane crash around, as if the wing had come off, and the plane continued to fly further. It was getting dark, and they decided to set up camp there. In the morning, they were joined by friends following in their tracks. They were already under acid. Together, they continued to climb the summit.

The winter was usually calm, but the Yosemite Rangers worked year round. There was always someone who needed to be saved - some group "Non-traditional visitors", a term by which employees of the park referred to hippies and climbers who smoke weed and set up campgrounds in forbidden places. One day waiter wa Ahwahnee went to the forest to report a plane crash.

“Do these guys even know where they were?”, - Tim Satnik asked his fellow serviceman while he was pointing his finger on the map, on which famous places of wrecks, which hung on the door of his office, were marked. Satnik, who led the search and rescue operations, was not much older than the guy who reported the crash. He was a representative of a new generation of Rangers who combined rock climbing, scuba diving and camping in the wild with advanced law enforcement techniques. Dangerous rangers, as they were called, were trained in everything from intelligence and undercover work to the usual duties of a forensic scientist. They were representatives of the law in Yosemite, a city – state in the heart of the harsh California wildlife.

Satnik contacted the coordination center of the rescue operations of the Air Force to find out whether they received reports of the disappearance of the aircraft. He dictated to the operator the serial number of the wing, which entailed a chain reaction. The National Park Service has not yet managed to assemble a team of Rangers, as four federal agencies have already begun to compete with each other, who will get access to the crash site faster. The National Transportation Safety Authority (NSSA) and the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) became interested in the crashed aircraft, and the Security Department and the Customs Service became interested in the cargo, which, in their opinion, was on board. Customs officers dispatched a Huey helicopter from the Vietnam War from San Diego to deliver agents and rangers to the crash site. The sound of helicopter blades echoed through a wide valley when it landed at El Capitan Meadow. Everyone in Yosemite knew that something serious had happened.

From the air, the trail of debris stretching for a kilometer from the fallen Howard 500, which, as if by an arrow, pointed in the direction of Lake Lower Merced Pass. The lake covered with ice and a small layer of snow was bald on a white landscape. Having lost the wing and the tail section, which hung on the trees, the aircraft fuselage rolled over and, breaking the ice, sank. More than a month has passed since the crash in December, and the lake managed to get covered with ice again, having buried the plane and all who were on board. Several bags were scattered along the coastline. Some of them opened up when struck to the ground, leaving a trace of plant material on the snow.

Since the plane was in the territory of the national park service, the investigation was led by the Law Enforcement Administration of Yosemite National Park. The regimental ranger with a well-groomed haircut, whose name was Lee Shekelton, took over the leadership and ordered his guys along with armed customs agents to scour the area, collect bags of marijuana and lay them in a heap near the helicopter landing site on the frozen lake. Several bags stuck in the ice and stuck out like rotting stumps. Total catch pulled almost a ton. Representatives of customs and OUA helped to compile a list of evidence.

“It was hard work: we had to cut these bags of marijuana with chainsaws, which were stuck in the ice, - remembers Satnik. - They were heavy, wet and torn. We cut ice chainsaws, and, as you know, they were not enough for a long time. We got only those bags that we could see under the thickness of the ice, then we loaded them into the helicopter and flew back. ”

After that, the Rangers cut a hole for a team of divers. Scuba diving at such a height is so difficult, but those were the most terrible conditions in which the team leader Butch Farby had to work.

"The water was turbid due to aviation and hydraulic oils, - remembers Farby. - Visibility was minimal when the plane plunged into the water, all the pieces of aluminum that had come off of it floated to the surface and froze, so that metal fragments were not only at the bottom. ”

The divers managed to extract a few more bags of marijuana, which they passed to the surface through an ice hole. From Fresno, a specially hired professional diver was brought in so that he removed the bodies, but even he could not get through the debris around the cockpit.

In the valley, the rangers unloaded the bags and put them on the inventory list. Yosemite prison for short-term detention was located on the second floor of the fire station, it was decided to put the bags in the cells.

The bags in the chambers were stacked almost to the ceiling, and soon the chamber was flooded with water from melting frozen bags. The flow of water was clogged with leaves and other plant material. Firefighters were located on the floor below and suffered from flooding.

Greenish water flowed directly onto the control room. Exhausted Rangers began to carry dozens of bags from the second floor of the prison to the freezer storage room at the adjacent warehouse of the National Park Service, where they were kept for several weeks.

On the shores of Lake Shekelton received a message that a powerful storm front was coming. Representatives of the five law enforcement agencies spent almost a week searching this area, describing all the debris and collecting all the marijuana they could find. Conducting a full-scale rescue operation to extract the fuselage and supposedly inside the bodies in winter conditions was not discussed. Bringing the necessary heavy machinery here was expensive, and working on ice in such weather conditions was risky. Everyone believed that the oncoming storm would cut them off from the city, so Shekelton chose not to leave his rangers at the post at the lake. It was decided to stop work at the scene until spring. In the first week of February, the helicopter brought the last group of Rangers back to the valley, before the hurricane began.

John Glyski's wife Pam had a sinister dream. In it, she saw the body of her husband turned upside down in the cockpit.

When John did not get in touch after calling her from Las Vegas, Pam went to the police and told them everything.

UBN hunted for Glinski for several years. In their intelligence reports, he was a ghost. In an instant, for a moment he was in the field of view of their aircraft, and the next - dissolved in the air. Despite her collaboration, the DEA did not provide Pam with any information for several days. In a desperate attempt to find her husband, she rented a plane and went in search of him. She said she hired a pilot to fly low from the ground along the route of John. They sat on every runway, she came up with questions to the most suspicious-looking people she could find. None of them could remember to see an American pilot who looked like John.

Finally, after several weeks of silence, an agent called her and reported on an airplane found in Yosemite. Pam then called the only person from John's entourage she could trust — his lawyer, Jeff Steinberg. She needed to know what was going on, and if John really was dead. Steinberg did not have a special love for his client, John Glinski, whom he described as a bastard. But he had feelings for Pam — a few years before they were lovers — so he flew in from Seattle and rented a car. He took a room in a hotel near the park and spent three days in bars and restaurants, keeping his ears open. Overhearing the conversation of the UBN pilot on the progress of the investigation, Steinberg filled in several gaps. The fuselage was still at the bottom under the ice, and with it the bodies and drugs that could not yet be extracted.

On his last night in Yosemite, he noticed a burning bonfire on a camping site nearby. He twisted the joint with top-notch Thai grass and walked toward the campsite. At the site, he found a dozen young guys gathered around the fire. He let the joint in a circle. Without introducing himself, he told them a fascinating story about a plane that was full of marijuana.

"I knew that John Glinski and Jeff Nelson are dead, - recalls Steinberg. - I just had the idea that someone should smoke all that weed that they brought from Mexico. ”

Search for marijuana

Rumors spread very quickly: that the plane was Colombian and belonged to the Mafia, that all this was part of the government’s classified program. He was clogged with grass and cocaine, and also in cash. It was a trap, a myth, a jackpot of the whole life. As soon as the lawyer left, all the beggars of Yosemite began to plan their trip to the backcountry.

In winter, around 20 climbers lived in the campsite. Among them were members of a team of rock climbers. «Stonemasters». At the campsite they had a special position. They were the legends of wall climbing. But there were others, youngsters, such as 17 – year-old Chuck Strater, who had arrived in Yosemite from Sacramento a few weeks before. After passing the final exams in high school, he went to Yosemite to realize the dream of his life: climb El Capitan. The strater looked at the climbers of the Stonemasters, as if they were gods. Their presence gave him a greater incentive to subdue El Capitan and do everything necessary for that. At that moment, most of all he needed money to buy equipment, and he decided that financial problems could be solved by selling weed.

Several members of the Stonemasters team were among the first, they knew the routes and were well prepared to hit the jackpot. Back they returned along a winding path with huge backpacks, on their faces they had mischievous smiles. They hid their illegal finds in tents and caches near the campsite.

In early April, Struther and his friends decided to go to Lake Lower Merced Pass. The three of them went to the beginning of the way to Mono Meadow. Their backpacks were practically empty:

“I had a sleeping bag and a jacket. I was wearing tennis sneakers. We planned to hit the road quickly, so we didn’t take food either. ” They crossed the icy river and climbed into the backcountry - they were driven by adrenaline.

The lower part of Lake Merced Pass is located under a bouldered field, surrounded on three sides by trees. When they approached their destination, they saw sleeping bags and clothing scattered along the coast. Those who arrived here earlier have left unnecessary items and equipment to make more space in their backpacks. Further lay a bunch of primitive tools - sticks and stakes, strange fragments of debris, and even an ax. Dozens of holes were cut in the ice. Exhausted by the road and frozen Strutter with friends set up a camp and lit a fire on the shore. On the lake, they began to cut through thick ice.

From the cold they began to feel burning pain in their hands. When they broke through the ice, Strater returned to the shore and saw the fuel line among the scattered debris that the Rangers left behind. He bent the pipe with the letter G and put his hand into the icy water. He could smell the fuel in the lake. Soon from groped something hard two meters from the well. To get the bag was very hard. Friends were struggling, and as a result, the bag jumped to the surface. Above it was sewn up. On the side was a stencilled image of a sheet of marijuana. It was wrapped in three layers of polyethylene, but the contents were still wet. Part of the bag was soaked with aircraft fuel.

Giggling nervously, they figured out the size of their catch and quickly divided it equally. Marijuana was on the first list of narcotic substances, and given the amount they took, they had a criminal term. Before they left this place, another group appeared there. One of the arrivals had with him a healthy mount that he stole from a contractor in the park. Striking blow after blow, this big guy eventually broke through the ice. As soon as he did, the heavy mount slipped from his hands and went to the bottom of the lake, leaving only a small hole. When the Strader and his friends began to push back, the big man grabbed the ax that was there and continued to shred the ice.

Their backpacks were quickly soaked with moisture, and water began to run down the legs. At nightfall, icicles formed on the satchels. The sky clouded over and it snowed. So they walk back to the campsite.

In modest times, when weed was a valuable commodity, there might have been a chance to sell most of the staff right in the park. But by April, 1977, Yosemite, was bathed in ganges. People called new weed By plane or "Collapsed". Mixed with the remnants of jet fuel, it sometimes flared up and popped when smoking - it took hard.

Strater knew that they needed to take her out of the park. Friends scored the front trunk of a borrowed car grass. They did not fit into the backseat and went to Los Angeles, where one of the friends had an acquaintance of a drug dealer.

They did not go far.

«We had just passed Yosemite West when we suddenly got a flat tire. We drove slowly to the gas station in Oakhurst, which is only 80 kilometers from the campsite. A gas station attendant approached the car. “Do you need a tire change?” he asked before jumping away from the car, which smelled of grass, Strader said.

Climbers reached the center of Los Angeles after midnight and waited there for a messenger who did not appear. It was already late, so they decided to spend the night in sleeping bags in the bushes nearby. Waking up in the morning, Strutter saw crowded children around him. It turned out that they spent the night on the school playground.

All day the trio tried to find the dealer, but the grass in the trunk was becoming moldy. They chipped in to rent a hotel room. Having gone to the store of building materials, they laid out the raw bags on the tarpaulin and turned on the heating lamps.

Bag of marijuana

Strut convinced his comrades to get out of Los Angeles. They drove into the desert not far from Palm Springs and found there a place not far from the road where they could dry the grass. Then they went to the San Francisco Bay area and found there a person who bought some of their grass. For cash, Stréter bought a bus ticket to his hometown near Sacramento, and there he gave his share to a school friend.

“I told him: “Sell for as much as you can, take some for yourself, and give me what’s left.” I’m not a huckster - this terrible experience opened my eyes,” he admitted.

On Easter weekends, rumors spread outside the park, and people began to arrive in minibuses from Fresno, San Jose and Berkeley. Ron Likins, the waiter who first discovered the wing, knew that something was wrong when the climbers started giving him a generous tip. He reproached himself for being so close to the jackpot, but passed by him.

“When spring came, I started hearing about all these stories. Since I was the guy who found the wing, I told myself I had to go there. So one time I took a backpack, which only contained a sleeping bag, an ice pick and plastic bags. We left in the middle of the night,” he said.

At the peak of this so-called “gold rush”, 20 people came to the lake in one day.

With so many outsiders, the atmosphere was getting tense, especially considering that the criminals were also going there.

Rangers at that time, too, did not sleep. The head of search and rescue operations, Tim Setnick, began to hear various hints from the climbers with whom he worked and with whom he was on good terms. Road crews began to report unusual traffic density near Lake Mono. A hired diver who helped inspect the lake in February phoned officer Butch Farabi from his store in Fresno and reported a sudden jump in demand for rental equipment for scuba diving. The guys, who had never dived before, suddenly wanted to learn how to scuba dive in Yosemite.

It was obvious to all the few inhabitants of Yosemite that something had changed. In addition to the fact that the climbers were throwing money, several of them, those that used to pick up food from the garbage cans, bought themselves used cars and new gear. In the campsite, a new climbing equipment suddenly appeared. Strater earned money bought himself equipment, with which he climbed El Capitan four times in 1977.

Unforeseen earnings could reach 20 000 dollars, which in 1977 was a lot of money.

After the raid, the rangers were forbidden to visit the territory of the lake.

On April 13, which would later be called “Big Wednesday,” six armed Rangers boarded a Huey helicopter and set off to Lower Merced Pass to take everyone there by surprise. Rangers were placed along the tracks along the road from the lake so that they would catch the people who had run off. Clevenger and his friend were the only ones arrested. Rangers were supposed to inform the federal investigator of the park about the arrest the next day, but the arrest was canceled due to a violation of due process. No one was convicted in the case of the lake.

After the siege, the two rangers who served in the army were given suhpayki and equipment and sent to guard the lake. These two lived in a tent for 17 days. They built banners from cans and kept their pistols at the ready.

Operation to extract the fuselage from the lake

For two months, the Rangers kept watch on the lake. Hopeful beginners came, hoping to find a lake full of grass. Some of them were terribly ill-prepared for the spring trekking at high altitude. One group wandered a whole week with almost no food before finally stumbled upon the cattle drovers.

Only by mid-June the lake thawed enough to conduct a rescue operation. June 16 local rescue team began to extract from the water the fuselage of the aircraft. During the operation, the surface of the lake surfaced Jeff Nelson. The body of John Glisky was tied with straps inside the cockpit, just as Pam Glyski saw in her dream. The cause of the crash has never been established.

Text translation prepared edition Interpreted.

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