Wednesday evening, my husband and I started hearing helicopters.
It's dark early during this time of year and helicopters flying at nighttime is very unusual.
We're somewhat rural and live in the foothills of the Superstition Mountains.
This is a view from our back yard -
The large flat portion of the mountain at the front to the left is called Flat Iron and the jutting portion behind that is called Ship Rock, because it resembles a ship's bow.
According to reports, the plane missed Ship Rock by approximately 500 feet and Ship Rock's highest peak is roughly 5,000 feet.
At approximately 6:50 p.m., a neighbor phoned us and informed us that a plane had crashed into the mountain.
We stepped outside to the patio and we couldn't see anything except a beautiful night-sky filled with stars above the mountains.
The sounds of helicopters could be heard though, and there were numerous choppers circling.
Another neighbor across the street phoned and told us that they could see the fire from their yard and at first they thought someone had built a huge bonfire in the mountains, until the television interrupted programming with breaking news about a crash in the Superstition Mountains.
We turned on the television to the local NBC and listened to the reports and watched the footage about the crash in horror and with much sadness.
Our quiet little community was crowded with multiple vehicles of people coming up here trying to see the carnage.
We didn't hear anything and we had our windows open and we were watching a movie with the sound set at a normal range.
We could not see the fire from our home and for that I am grateful.
I think that Flat Iron blocked the sound and blocked the fire.
I'm not a curiosity-seeker of tragedy and just knowing that people died so close to our home is upsetting enough.
And knowing that a plane crashed nearby is a bit too close for comfort.
The sounds of helicopters, both rescue and news, were heard well into the night.
They had to lower ten rescue-workers into the crevice behind Flat Iron, since the hike is 6-miles of rough terrain and dangerous, even in daylight.
The 10 rescue people had to put out the fires before they could approach the wreckage and they spent the night and were relieved at daybreak with 10 other rescue workers.
Yesterday morning, my husband and I went for our normal walk a bit after daybreak and we walk down a road adjacent to the mountains.
The helicopters were out in full force, as were morbid-curiosity-seekers.
The actual wreckage cannot be seen from the road.
What can be seen are the charred rocks along Ship Rock from the fuel.
It's all so very sad.
Six people died, three of them children.
I love the Superstition Mountains and we moved here specifically for the spectacular views, but I will never again look at the mountains the same.
You can read the story here -
The thing that amazes me, or is it disgusts me, is the attitudes of people.
Maybe it's human nature, and maybe it's just me because I live so close to the incident.
But yesterday morning on our return walk, an older man was standing in his driveway talking on his cell phone and when he saw us, he shouted at us, so we stopped.
He asked us if we saw the crash, and I said, "No, and that it was very sad", and then he replied that he wasn't home and he was disappointed that he missed it.
Then this morning while on our walk, a vehicle with an older gentlemen stopped and asked us about the crash. He had binoculars around his neck and wanted to know where to go to see the wreckage.
It rained this morning around 4:30 and I woke up and my first thought was of tears and as the song says - 'The Sky is Crying'.
The mountains are covered with clouds, which is making it difficult for the investigators from the FAA and NTSB to get in, but it's still a gorgeous site if not fitting for such a sad tragedy.
The Superstition Mountains are legendary and you can read about the history from here -
Tales of the Superstition Mountains
My thoughts and prayers are with the families of those lost.