Amazing. I'd been fishing and kayaking and even sailing in the waters off Redstone Cove my whole life, with not the first clue, even after becoming a pilot, of the history lying right beneath my nose. Even now, I wouldn't have stumbled across it if it hadn't been for that lovely, haunting image in the gallery. But what of that photographer/pilot, the one whose fingerprint sent me looking for all this history in the first place? The details of that story, ironically enough, remain something of a mystery. I did manage to track down Mal Warnoff, owing to the fact that aviation is a very small world, with no more than two or three degrees of separation between any two of its members. I got a list of aerial photography businesses in Boston, and my first call, to a guy named Steve Dunwell, led me to Mike Peavey, a Norwood-based helicopter pilot and photographer who'd known Mal back when. Peavey asked folk at the local airport café if anyone knew where Mal was these days, found someone who knew Mal's brother … and within two days, I was on the phone to Mal himself, now retired down in Florida.