All my flying for the first several years of owning my Grumman AA1-B was VFR, even at night. And my electronic navigation was limited to the Narco Escort 110 in the panel, which could navigate and communicate, but not both at the same time. I learned the trick of setting what seemed like a good heading, then looking out at something distinctive near the horizon—a large town, brightly lit highway intersection, or a night baseball game—and steering toward it. Then picking up the next visible landmark from there.
One night, flying on an easterly heading homeward shortly after sunset, I picked up an orangey glow on the horizon that I took to be a covered, lighted tennis court or something like that, and maintained my track toward it to compensate for any wind correction (there wasn’t any wind, so it was easy).
As I flew along, the glow got progressively larger. I could see it wasn’t getting any closer, just larger by the minute. I tried to puzzle it out, but couldn’t imagine how this … whatever it was … way, way out on the horizon was getting so much larger, brighter … and rounder, as I flew along.
Then, I got it. I was on a beeline toward the most beautiful, orange Harvest Moonrise I’d ever seen.