It’s been 20 years since I received a phone call from a man who introduced himself as the fiancé of my friend, Dyan Jenkins. He was calling to tell me that Dyan had been lost at sea. He said she was flying to the Turks and Caicos Islands when she ran out of fuel. She sent out a “mayday” which was intercepted by an Eastern airlines pilot who head her last words, “It’s quitting”.
Dyan was an amazing pilot and the most adventurous soul I ever knew. She became an instant friend when I moved from the city of Newport to live with my aunt and uncle in Cold Spring. My parents were on a towboat at this time and I still had two years of high school to complete. She and I felt like fish out of water at Campbell County High School. She had spent two, tumultuous years at a local girl’s catholic school and was finally sent to public. Campbell County had a massive student body, unlike the smaller schools we had both attended. I didn’t fit in at Campbell County and always seemed to be in trouble that I didn’t start or at least didn’t mean to start. Dyan searched me out when it became obvious that I was not going to fit in and that the principle, Mr. Ravenscraft, had marked me as a “bad” kid from Newport who needed to be monitored. It started innocently when I worn my “groovy” new, wire-rimmed glasses to school for the first time. We called them “John Denver” glasses back after the folksinger who had made them famous. Mr. Ravenscraft sent me home and told me to come back with normal glasses, not hippy glasses. Thankfully my mother was off the towboat for a few days when this transpired and she was right there telling him that there was nothing wrong with the glasses she had provided and if they didn’t like them, they could buy me new ones. The hint of insurrection and anti-establishment behavior was all Dyan needed to come to my rescue. Dyan was the editor of the underground newspaper at the school and she wanted to interview me for her paper. Back in the late 60’s an underground newspaper was the best and most fun way to get back at the “man”. A few more incidents as innocent as the first transpired and Dyan and I became united against the evil school administration.
Dyan and I did get into legitimate trouble eventually. Because my parents continued to have an apartment in Newport, I would sometimes stay the night when they were in town and then drive to school in my ugly, gray Studebaker. I’d pick Dyan up on the way and we’d share a breakfast of Pop Tarts and Pepsi. Dyan introduced me to a musician friend at the school by the name of Jon. She felt we were meant for each other and the three of us began hanging out together. One day she convinced Jon and me to skip school to go over to the Art Museum for one of the very first laser light shows. As I mentioned, I had an ugly, gray Studebaker and sneaking out of the parking lot just as the bell was ringing wasn’t our best move. The truant officer followed us through the City of Alexandria and reported us to Mr. Ravenscraft. The next morning the three of us were in his office and I was given my very first detention.
Dyan was an amazing pilot and the most adventurous soul I ever knew. She became an instant friend when I moved from the city of Newport to live with my aunt and uncle in Cold Spring. My parents were on a towboat at this time and I still had two years of high school to complete. She and I felt like fish out of water at Campbell County High School. She had spent two, tumultuous years at a local girl’s catholic school and was finally sent to public. Campbell County had a massive student body, unlike the smaller schools we had both attended. I didn’t fit in at Campbell County and always seemed to be in trouble that I didn’t start or at least didn’t mean to start. Dyan searched me out when it became obvious that I was not going to fit in and that the principle, Mr. Ravenscraft, had marked me as a “bad” kid from Newport who needed to be monitored. It started innocently when I worn my “groovy” new, wire-rimmed glasses to school for the first time. We called them “John Denver” glasses back after the folksinger who had made them famous. Mr. Ravenscraft sent me home and told me to come back with normal glasses, not hippy glasses. Thankfully my mother was off the towboat for a few days when this transpired and she was right there telling him that there was nothing wrong with the glasses she had provided and if they didn’t like them, they could buy me new ones. The hint of insurrection and anti-establishment behavior was all Dyan needed to come to my rescue. Dyan was the editor of the underground newspaper at the school and she wanted to interview me for her paper. Back in the late 60’s an underground newspaper was the best and most fun way to get back at the “man”. A few more incidents as innocent as the first transpired and Dyan and I became united against the evil school administration.
Dyan and I did get into legitimate trouble eventually. Because my parents continued to have an apartment in Newport, I would sometimes stay the night when they were in town and then drive to school in my ugly, gray Studebaker. I’d pick Dyan up on the way and we’d share a breakfast of Pop Tarts and Pepsi. Dyan introduced me to a musician friend at the school by the name of Jon. She felt we were meant for each other and the three of us began hanging out together. One day she convinced Jon and me to skip school to go over to the Art Museum for one of the very first laser light shows. As I mentioned, I had an ugly, gray Studebaker and sneaking out of the parking lot just as the bell was ringing wasn’t our best move. The truant officer followed us through the City of Alexandria and reported us to Mr. Ravenscraft. The next morning the three of us were in his office and I was given my very first detention.
Our adventures continued and Dyan had the dubious credit of introducing me to my first three husbands. (Those are stories for another day.) I miss Dyan and hope she managed to get to shore and is living another fine adventure. Maybe we'll bump into each other some day.
The following is an article regarding her disappearance.
Island Search Begins for Missing Pilot
From the Cincinnati Post – September 24, 1981
The U.S. Coast Guard began searching uninhabited Little Inagua Island in the Bahamas today in hopes that missing pilot, Dyan Marie Jenkins, formerly of Cold Spring, Ky. Had made it to shore.
Ms. Jenkins’ partially inflated life raft was spotted at 4:15 p.m. Wednesday by a private pilot aiding in the search, and retrieved by a Coast Guard helicopter.
“The raft positively has been identified as coming from her plane,” said Chief Petty Officer Ray Baker of the Miami Coast Guard headquarters. “The raft has to be manually inflated, and that leads us to believe she was able to get out of her plane and work with the raft.”
“The raft was one mile offshore of Little Inagua when found” he said. “She may have decided to swim.”
Little Inagua is northwest of Haiti and 475 miles southeast of Miami. It is eight miles long and covers 30 square miles.
Ms. Jenkins, a charter pilot, and her small, single-engine plane went down at 5:20 pm. Saturday when she ran out of fuel.
She was talking at the time by radio with Jack Geyer, an Eastern Airlines pilot and the last words he heard from her were “It’s quitting.”
Ms. Jenkins, 26, is the daughter of Betty Heinichen of Loveland, and had visited here only two weeks ago.
She moved from Cold Spring to Ft. Lauderdale five years ago and became a professional pilot. She had been in business for herself two years as a charter pilot.
Little Inagua is five miles north of Great Inagua. Covered in a vast reef apron that prevents boats from getting too close, Little Inagua’s 30 square miles are completely uninhabited except for herds of wild donkeys, goats (descendants of stock introduced by the French), and a wide variety of bird life, including a rare species of heron.
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