The phone rang at the my boss' hunting camp not long after I retired to bed, and a look at the clock showed about a quarter past eleven PM. Hoping the call was for one of the carpenters or welders I had flown in that day to work on the new ranch house, alas, the voice on the other end of the line was that of my chief pilot, who calmly informed me that I needed to return the company Cessna 210 ASAP for an early AM flight from our home base in Lafayette, LA.

As I was in central Texas at the time and sleep was the foremost thing on my mind, I calculated that I could get the plane back home by two-thirty and myself in my own bed by three, or so. My call to Flight Service to check weather and file an IFR flight plan is what should have given me pause. While it was VFR at my departure point, just east, and all the way to Mississippi, was low IFR, but above minimums and forecasted to remain the same.

I filed the flight plan to Lafayette, but due to the forecasted ceiling and visibility, I was required to file an alternate destination. And believe it or not, the nearest allowable alternate was Little Rock, AR. As I carried four and a half hours of fuel, it would suffice, but was cutting it pretty close.

I arrived at the plane at around midnight and did my usual pre-flight, got airborne VFR and picked up my IFR clearance from Austin approach. It wasn't five minutes before going into thick IMC all the way through ten thousand feet, where I broke out into a nice and starry black sky. I leveled out at eleven thousand and profiled the plane for cruise flight and set the autopilot for the two hour remainder of the trip.

Just below me was the slightly perceptible glow of the city of Austin through ten thousand feet of dense clouds. But no sooner than I gave myself a little more legroom by sliding my seat aft, the cockpit lights dimmed considerably, all but the red Low Voltage light, which seemed to illuminate the whole cabin, almost like it knew I was in trouble and needed it's help to see.

First instinct was to shut down anything I could do without, which left me with one nav/com and GPS. I informed Houston Center of my predicament and announced my decision to return to my departure point since it was VFR when I left (and hoping it still was). Center cleared me direct with no further need to acknowledge any transmissions. I thanked him anyway and sank into the blackness of the dense IMC with a flashlight as my newest best friend. And while it cost me tremendous and precious battery power, I made the decision to lower the gear, as it would be one less issue to have to address later.

I made it down to about twenty-four hundred feet before the battery finally called it quits. Still in the clouds and at pattern altitude, I literally prayed that my departure airport was still VFR and somewhere in front of me. And just like that, and like a vision from heaven, I broke out and saw the most beautiful rotating beacon I've ever seen. I propped the flashlight between the front seats and flew the pattern to a nice, but dark, landing. After shutting down, I shone the flashlight into the sump drain panel which offered a good look at the failed alternator. Sure enough, a chaffed wire had broken loose...

It was only after grabbing my bag, locking the plane and walking back to my Jeep that my knees simply buckled..