Photographic Logbook

Know Your Limits

2012-03-03T17:53:00.001-05:00

My house creaked and groaned, buffeted by fifty knot gusts. It was not a good day to fly; anyone could see that. Sometimes, however, conditions are not so extreme and deciding to launch requires some careful thought. I learned this lesson well three years ago on another windy day when I witnessed the misfortune of another.

My friend Scott was in town visiting. I had promised him an airplane ride in Warrior 481 and was eager to deliver on that promise. With respect to weather, the day was borderline. Winds were running directly across the runway in the mid teens, gusting occasionally. It was within my envelope and Scott is not particularly timid. I knew that I could handle the conditions, but was trying to decide if flying that day was worth the effort.

We checked on the Warrior to make sure her pre-heater was working. It was. Driving back to the terminal building, I observed a Cessna 172 lined up for runway 28. The aircraft was high and fast; I assumed that someone was practicing the missed approach for the runway 28 VOR-A approach into Le Roy. I was wrong.

The airplane was still descending. At midfield, the Cessna was much too high to land. It was pitched down significantly and its airspeed appeared excessive. I realized that the pilot was trying to force the airplane down onto the 2600 x 60 foot runway.

"Go around..." I muttered softly, unable to take my eyes from Cessna. With less than one third of the available runway length remaining, the Cessna pilot added power and began to climb. I released the breath I had been holding.

Satisfied that certain disaster was averted, Scott and I continued to the terminal building where I checked additional weather data for the local area. The sound of an airplane engine broke my concentration and I looked out the window to see the Cessna making another landing attempt. It was already midfield, high and fast ... again. This time, the airplane touched down on the last third of the runway. Some aggressive braking would be necessary to avoid going off of the end of the runway, but the pavement was uncontaminated with water or ice.

As I watched, the Cessna deviated from the runway center line, drifting toward the downwind runway edge. It slowed as the right main wheel encountered the snowbank alongside the pavement. Then the nosegear departed the runway and began to drag through snow. This brought the Cessna to a rather abrupt stop.

In slow motion, the tail came up, pointed skyward, and quivered for just a moment. Then, slowly, the airplane nosed over onto its back in the snow beside the runway. I could not believe what I was seeing.

Then I realized that Scott and I were at the airport by ourselves.

I called 911 first, then Ray. Ray issued a NOTAM closing the airport. Scott (an EMT) and I drove to the scene to check on the pilot and any passengers who may have been aboard. As we approached, the pilot and sole occupant of the Skyhawk climbed from the cockpit and stumbled away from the wreck. We were relieved to see that he was out and moving on his own.

We parked on the opposite side of the runway from the stricken Skyhawk. Scott and I met the pilot on the runway center line. He was shaken, but appeared to be completely uninjured. The airplane, on the other hand, looked rough.

As we waited for the cavalry to arrive, we engaged in small talk. I learned several things about the accident pilot very quickly. He was a low time private pilot, having accumulated approximately 125 hours in the span of five years. The airplane was a rental out of Rochester. He expressed that he was more accustomed to the larger runways there. The smallest runway at Greater Rochester International is 4000 x 100 feet - significantly longer and wider than what Le Roy had to offer. He was cognizant of the windy conditions, but had not flown in a long time and was eager to get back into the sky. The aborted landing we witnessed was actually his second; the accident occurred on the third attempt at landing.

I cringed as he told me all of this.

I expressed how relieved I was that he was unhurt, but his focus was elsewhere. He was worried about the wrecked airplane disrupting airport operations, that his wife would forbid him from flying again, and that the Cessna's owner would be irate (he was right about that last one).

I was sympathetic and tried to be supportive, reminding him that no one was hurt. With only some bent metal, it was a best case scenario for any accident. Internally, however, I was seething.

Note the skidmark and how close to the end of the runway the airplane came to rest.

A low time pilot, not current, and accustomed to long, wide runways chose this day to land at my airport with its comparatively short, narrow runway and direct crosswind near the maximum demonstrated capability of the aircraft he was flying. Two aborted landings were not enough to convince him that a return to Rochester, with six choices in landing direction on more forgiving runways, might be in his best interests.

Really?

I understand an overwhelming desire to fly after a long time away from the sky. But I was genuinely baffled by the pilot's aeronautical decision making and the number of opportunities for a different outcome that he ignored before coming to rest upside down in someone else's Cessna at Le Roy.

But I held these thoughts hidden behind a calm smile. Soon enough, the fire department and police arrived on the scene. I think the firemen were quite disappointed that there was no fireball for them battle. Ray arrived shortly thereafter and handled the media with a charm and purposeful grace that left me quite impressed.

Scott did not get his ride in Warrior 481 that day. But all of us based at the Le Roy Airport received an important reminder: know your limits and respect them.

Photo credit: These photos were all taken with my camera, but it was either Ray or Scott who took them.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Flushing

2012-02-18T11:32:00.001-05:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time(hours)
4 Sep 2005	N21481	LWA (South Haven, MI) - 3DA (Flushing, MI) - LWA	2.8	366.7

In the fall of 2005, Kristy and I departed South Haven, MI in Warrior 481, bound for Dalton Airport (3DA) near Flint to visit with college friends.

As we departed the South Haven area, Dave provided ad hoc escort in the Decathlon. Eventually, he pulled out of formation and returned home. We watched until the Decathlon became a tiny dot on the western horizon, then contacted Grand Rapids for flight following to Dalton.

At this point, my wife was no longer a flying newbie. That summer, we had flown from South Haven to Florida and back in Warrior 481. She understood most of what Air Traffic Control was talking about, could read a sectional as well as anyone, and routinely tuned radios and entered transponder codes while en route. As a right-seater, she had become a seasoned pro.

Both of us were also quite familiar with a phenomenon I call the “water bottle barometer”:

This is the direct result of quenching one’s thirst at altitude and capping the bottle tightly before descent.

At 5500 feet, Grand Rapids Approach handed us off to Lansing and Kristy began to rummage in her purse.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“My hands are dry,” she responded.

This triggered a vague sense of unease in the back of my mind, but nothing sufficiently specific crystallized there to trigger an objection.

The moment Kristy opened the tube of hand lotion, a significant fraction of the contents spontaneously burst forth. Once the Universe was satisfied by restoration of pressure equilibrium, the flow of erupting lotion ceased. We looked at each other in surprise, then simultaneously realized that we had just witnessed the converse of the "water bottle barometer" scenario.

Hilarity ensued and a lesson was learned! It could have been worse. Our experience could have come from Coca-Cola instead, a well documented and far stickier hazard for airplane owners than a lotion-covered wife.

There is a well known mnemonic to help pilots remember that their altimeters will read inaccurately high when flying from an area of high pressure to low: “high to low, look out below” (i.e., you’re not as high as you think you are, don’t hit anything).

In the same spirit, I offer this: “a mile over the ocean, be careful with lotion”.

Flying Bears Do Not Hibernate in the Winter

2012-01-21T20:23:00.000-05:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time(hours)
21 Jan 2012	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - GVQ (Batavia, NY) - 01G (Perry, NY) - 5G0	1.2	1013.6

In upstate NY, winter flying often needs to be opportunistic. We awoke with no plans to fly given an uninspiring forecast for broken clouds at 2500 feet for most of the day. Instead, freshly fallen snow twinkled under brilliant sunlight from a clear blue sky. The Bear and I gathered our things and made a beeline for the airport. For this flight, "Nala" (Lion King aficionados will know of whom I speak - thanks, Aunt Lisa!) was coming along with us for her first airplane ride.

We arrived at the Le Roy airport to find it covered in a pristine blanket of powdery snow about one and a half inches deep.

Perfect.

And so The Bear launched from a snow-covered runway for the first time. Looking back toward the tail during run-up, she marveled at the miniature blizzard created by our airplane.

With The Bear along for the ride, my goals were to circulate some warm oil and perform some take offs and landings to stave off the inevitable winter rust from both engine and pilot.

On a slightly tangential note (that will make more sense in a moment), my new year's resolution for 2012 is to begin instrument training. The current plan includes self study with help from John and Martha King (in progress!), an avionics upgrade centered around a used Garmin 430W (scheduled!), and finding a CFII for lessons beginning late spring (pending).

I am enjoying the King IFR course. I will confess to being surprised when the course began with low altitude en route charts, but quickly realized that this was a rather clever way to introduce the vocabulary of the IFR environment. Much like when I took a Biochemistry minor in graduate school, I soon realized that the concepts are not particularly difficult once you speak the language.

As The Bear and I approached Genesee County Airport for a touch and go this morning, I accessed the plate for the ILS runway 28 approach on my iFly 700 and dialed the localizer frequency into the #1 nav radio. A month ago, I would not have known where to find that frequency or, frankly, what to do with it.

Alone in the pattern, I extended the downwind leg somewhat. On final and lined up with the runway, I glanced down to see that we had intercepted the localizer.

Cool.

Obviously, The Bear is not a safety pilot; I kept my eyes outside and occasionally checked the instruments. To her credit, however, she called traffic to me twice this morning. In both instances, they were airliners up in the flight levels. The first time I checked, we were slightly left of the localizer and high on the glideslope. The latter did not come as a surprise; I've always favored flying a steeper approach than a 3 degree glideslope. With a couple of minor corrections, I was right on the beam. Though I suspect that the process is more challenging without visual contact with the runway, it was still something of a first.

To keep The Bear interested, we did some steep turns at 4500 feet over a scattered cloud layer. For each turn, completion of 360 degrees was punctuated with a crisp bump as we crossed back through our own wake. We landed at the Perry-Warsaw airport in a brisk crosswind (there is always a crosswind at Perry-Warsaw) and thus added a new location to The Bear's list of visited airports.

From there, we turned back toward Le Roy. From 15 miles out, I could easily see the two small water towers bracketing town. As I adjusted our heading, I asked The Bear if she was enjoying her flight.

"Yes!" she said.

"Did you like taking off on snow?"

"That was so cool!" Then, "Daddy? I don't think Nala is having a good flight. We'll have to take her flying more times until she likes it."

So Nala got her picture taken on the glareshield. Hopefully, this helped her enjoy the experience more. Considering the huge blind spot she created, her position there was extremely short lived.

Ten miles out from Le Roy, The Bear invoked her new favorite brand of goofiness.

It all started earlier this week while driving home from school. As we turned out of the parking lot that night, The Bear trotted out this old standby:

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" I said with enthusiasm while groaning inside. I have never read any early childhood development books, but suspect that there must be a phase of development at this age characterized by an unusual fascination with knock knock jokes.

"Interrupting cow!"

"Interrupting cow, w..." I responded, feigning ignorance about what was to follow.

"MOO!" The Bear interrupted, then burst into a fit of giggles. Over time, I have learned not to say "interrupting cow, who?" too quickly lest I ruin the joke.

But it did not stop there. The entire way home, we took turns making up new "interrupters", both of us eventually crying with hysterical laughter. A sampling:

"Interrupting Buddy...'I have a hypothesis!'" Mine, from Dinosaur Train.

"Interrupting feet...CLOMP, CLOMP!" Hers.

"Interrupting gamelan...ding, da-ding, da-ding, ding!" Mine. I am pleased to note that my budding ethnomusicologist daughter actually got the joke.

"Interrupting roadrunner...BEEP BEEP!" Hers.

When I tried, "interrupting air traffic controller," The Bear responded with, "interrupting...I can't say that!" This was far funnier than my planned, "clear to land, runway 28" punchline.

Ok. So maybe you had to be there to find all this amusing. Regardless, The Bear has been trying (and largely failing) to recreate this moment of hilarity for the last several days. Ten miles southwest of Le Roy, she was inspired again.

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"Interrupting animal," she responded over the Warrior's intercom.

"Interrupting anima..." I began, not quite sure where she was going.

"SORRY!" she bellowed in a rough voice that was a near perfect imitation of the Electric Mayhem's Muppet drummer. It was her favorite quote from The Muppets, which she saw during her first trip to a movie theater over Christmas vacation. Not bad; it was not so long ago that her invented jokes made absolutely no sense at all.

I was still laughing as I keyed the mic to announce five miles out for landing on runway 28 at Le Roy. Though Ray had started plowing the apron areas, the runway was completely undisturbed except for tracks from our earlier take-offs and landings.

While taxiing from the runway, The Bear asked if she could write her name in my logbook for today's flight. With the airplane stopped outside our hangar, we remained in the warm cockpit tidying up and filling out the logbook.

When she finished writing her name in my logbook, I noticed that The Bear looked a little worn out. We were overdue for lunch and it was close to her usual nap time. "Are you tired?" I asked.

"I'm so exhausted," she answered with more world-weariness than I would have ever imagined a four year old able to muster. I expedited our departure from the airport as much as possible and took her directly to her favorite restaurant for lunch.

Photo by Ray

All in all, a nice flight; quality time with The Bear and some firsts for both of us. As I edge closer to the eight year anniversary of buying Warrior 481, I am glad to find that the entire venture remains rewarding.

Winter's Veil Recedes

2012-01-08T20:22:00.000-05:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time(hours)
08 Jan 2012	N21481	5G0 (Le Roy, NY) - DSV (Dansville, NY) - GVQ (Batavia, NY) - 5G0	2.0	1011.7

I have spent many days over the last few weeks hoping to fly. Rochester has been obscured by clouds for much of that time, clearing only in deference to extreme winds. Finally, the air calmed, the veil of scud retreated southward, and I took to the sky.

Regardless of what the calendar indicates, we lack one of the key ingredients of a typical Upstate winter (hint: it's awfully brown down there). I particularly like the little white polka-dots of snow denoting sand traps at the Davis Countryside Meadows golf course in the photo above (bottom of frame, center).

Terrain around the Finger Lakes still harbored some cumulus as seen in these photos of Conesus Lake.

The veil thickened over Hemlock Lake and, further to the southeast, it was obviously snowing.

I liked the pattern here and how a light dusting of winter competed with a green specter of summer.

A denser ceiling loomed over Dansville. As sunbeams poured through holes in the deck, they illuminated a sky teeming with high velocity motes; tiny, nearly invisible, ice crystals streaming past my aircraft windows. Staring through them with the sun at my back, the clouds beyond assumed a shimmering iridescence.

The landscape reddened with the setting sun (above, near Letchworth State Park). I did some steep turns for fun.

And, finally, the sun set. Darrell launched from runway 28 at Le Roy as I entered the pattern. A massive moon hung low over the Rochester skyline as I rolled the Warrior's wheels ever so gently onto the pavement.

I waited an hour before returning to the sky for some night take-offs and landings at Le Roy and Genesee County. With the flying itch scratched, rust knocked off, and night currency maintained, I drove home very contented. It felt great to be back in the sky again and, though she could not say so, I think the Warrior was glad, too.

2011 in Review: Year of the Cross Country

2011-12-22T17:27:00.002-05:00

With 2011 nearly over, it's time to reflect back on the year's flying and share some of my favorite images from the logbook.

Middle Falls, Letchworth State Park, NY
("Backyard Flying")

I flew a total of 115.1 hours in 2011, my second most active year since I started flying in 2001.

Lake Ontario near Sandy Creek, NY
("St Lawrence Sunset")

I spent 79.6 hours engaged in cross country flying in 2011 (defined for these purposes as landings at airports greater than 50 nautical miles straight line distance from the point of departure). This is the most cross-country flying I've ever done in a year.

When I first bought my airplane, I used to make A LOT of 1 hour flights. Over time, it seems as though the frequency has decreased while the duration has increased. So, not surprisingly, the number of take-offs and landings per hour flown is considerably lower than past years (down from a six year average of 1.8 to 1.2).

The Florida Everglades
("A Bear's Odyssey, Episode 4: Marathon")

For me, the top three trips of the year were:

1. Family cross country flight to Florida ("A Bear's Odyssey"). This is the longest aerial voyage I have made to date and it was made all the more wonderful by having my family along with me.

Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge, Outer Banks, NC
("The Pilgrimage That Almost Wasn't")

2. Pilgrimage to the Wright Brothers Memorial in North Carolina ("The Pilgramage That Almost Wasn't") in celebration of surpassing 10 years since my first solo and reaching 1000 hours. At 9.6 hours, it was also the most flying I had ever done in a single day. Remarkably, I completed the trip without a trace of fatigue.

P-47 Thunderbolt, American Air Power Museum, Farmingdale, NY
("Republic")

3. Flight to Long Island, NY to visit the American Air Power Museum ("Republic") at Republic Airport, the third busiest airport in New York behind JFK and LaGuardia.

Southeast of Le Roy, NY
("Wet")

I had the pleasure of flying with twenty-two non-aviators outside of my immediate family, half of them kids. A few of them had flown with me previously, but for many, it was a first flight in a general aviation aircraft. Thanks to Kasia, Dan P., Greg, Chuck, Haley, Natalie, Bill, Stacey, Devon, Dan S., Rachel, Liya, Laura (from France), Kent, Ellie, Ben, Jay, John, Jack, Sara, Kate, and Laura for flying with me in 2011!

Oswego County Airport, Fulton, NY
("Remember")

2011 was also a big year for The Bear. In the course of logging 41.4 hours, she took her longest journey ever in the Warrior (Le Roy, NY to Ft Myers, FL, "A Bear's Odyssey"), graduated to flying right seat without Kristy around as support crew ("New Copilot"), and experienced her first night flight. She explored 21 different airports in 10 different states.

Sunset near Richmond, VA
("The Pilgrimage That Almost Wasn't")

I logged a total of 7.3 hours at night, the most I have ever spent aloft after sunset.

US-1, Florida Keys, FL
("A Bear's Odyssey, Episode 4: Marathon")

We established a new southernmost point of landing on Marathon Key (MTH). By the end of 2011, I had landed at a total of 131 airports, cumulatively speaking.

South Florida from the Gulf
("A Bear's Odyssey, Episode 4: Marathon")

I landed Warrior 481 at airports in Florida, Georgia, Kentucky, Michigan, New York, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, and West Virginia. 2011 was our first year in either of the Carolinas.

Oregon Inlet, Outer Banks, NC
("The Pilgrimage That Almost Wasn't")

I explored some new sights in states that I had never visited before...

Chimney Bluffs, Huron, NY
("Is It Winter, Yet?")

American Falls, Niagara Falls, NY
("The Zoo Trip")

...and visited some old favorites close to home.

Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, GA
("A Bear's Odyssey, Episode 5: The Bear Goes Over the Top")

I was invited by a friendly air traffic controller to fly directly through the center of one of the busiest Bravo airspaces in the world at 4500 feet. And it was good.


Lake Ontario near Watertown, NY ("St Lawrence Sunset")

For me, my humble little airplane is the perfect platform from which to witness the magnificent glory of nature.


Niagara Falls ("(Comparatively) Speedy Return")

On a more "practical" note, it can serve as a speedy means to visit my hometown in Michigan, which happened twice in 2011 by flying directly over Canada and the always-spectacular Niagara Falls.

North Shore of Long Island, NY
("Republic")

Whether the flying was done in the unsettled air of spring...

Adirondack Mountains Near Lake Placid, NY
("Mountain Escape")

...the haze of summer...

Fawn and Sacandaga Lakes Near Lake Pleasant, NY
("Quiet Celebration")

...over a scarlet autumn landscape...

Little Sodus Bay, Fair Haven, NY
("Is It Winter, Yet?")

...or in the winter, 2011 was a great year to fly. Well, except, perhaps, for fuel prices.

T6 Texan flown by Kevin Russo
("The Greatest Show on Turf, 2011 - Warbirds")

Even when not flying, seeing other airplanes fly was a definite treat.

Above an Overcast Layer Near Rochester, NY
("The Pilgrimage That Almost Wasn't")

Looking ahead into 2012, I think it's time for a new challenge. Given some of my experiences in 2011, instrument training makes a lot of sense. So, in the near term, I anticipate some panel upgrades for the Warrior so that she can fly in the system in a manner more closely resembling the state of the art (ug...money, again). And, obviously, this means training for me. Let's call it a New Year's Resolution. I'm still figuring out the details; we'll see how it all goes.

See you next year...

Is It Winter, Yet?

2011-12-18T17:34:00.000-05:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time(hours)
18 Dec 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - FZY (Fulton, NY) - SDC (Williamson, NY) - DSV (Dansville, NY) - 5G0	3.1	1008.9

After an unseasonably warm fall, winter finally arrived in Upstate New York yesterday. Sure, it was just a dusting of snow, but the landscape was completely transformed.

I did not fly often in the last two months of 2011. My most recent flight was the first week of December after a one month dry spell. The first landing that day was a bit...firm. Pilots who have not flown in a while often talk about going aloft to "knock off the rust". I would like to think that first hard landing helped to expedite removal of that metaphorical rust.

When the opportunity arose to fly this clear, sunny morning, I jumped at the chance. I visited Oswego County Airport (FZY) for cheap fuel, Williamson Sodus Airport to be social, and Dansville Municipal for lunch. Along the way, I got to see the sights, practice in the patterns of multiple airports, and do some stalls, steep turns, and the usual airwork stuff.

Question: "How can you tell when it's cold outside?"

Answer: "When a 33 year old, stock Piper Warrior shows an indicated airspeed of 125 knots (1 knot shy of the yellow arc) while turning 2500 RPM at 3000 feet."

Brrrr!!!!

After the first snowfall, I am always astounded by how different the landscape appears. This wonderment has a limited shelf life, however. After my first encounter with black ice on the ramp outside my hangar each season, I begin looking forward to spring again.

The dark effluent into Lake Ontario caught my eye. Anyone care to try and model the fluid dynamics of this system?

Hmmm. It looks like the aliens who created this crop circle may have been hittin' too much of the hard stuff.

On my way into the Williamson Sodus airport, the pattern was a bit of a circus. So I stayed to the east and circled Chimney Bluffs while things sorted themselves out.

Someone sprinkled powdered sugar on the bizarre formations along the Lake Ontario shoreline and I oddly found myself craving dessert.

Flying south, away from the lake, found the landscape only lightly dusted with snow. In the case of this golf course, residual snow accentuated every nuance of texture (this one really needs to be blown up to full size to appreciate).

I flew along Canandaigua Lake, noting wrinkles and crags in the nearby hillsides that usually lie hidden beneath a canopy of green leaves.

It was a good flight...good enough to hold me for a couple of weeks, if necessary. Now that winter has finally arrived in New York, it's anyone's guess when I might be able to take the Warrior out for exercise again.

Bear Is My Copilot

2011-11-05T21:58:00.000-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time(hours)
05 Nov 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - OYM (St Mary's, PA) - 5G0	2.3	1004.1

On what was likely to be one of the last great flying weekends of 2011, The Bear and I departed for the airport under clear skies. Though all horizontal surfaces in our neighborhood were coated in frost, we held tight to the promise of high temperatures in the low 50's.

At the airport, The Bear assisted me with installing the engine winterization plate. Taking wing, we pressed southward against a 12 knot headwind. We landed at St Mary's Municipal Airport ahead of a gaggle of traveling companions: a Cessna 152 Aerobat, a Husky with tundra tires, and a Citabria. The Husky and Citabria provided an outstanding opportunity to add a new word to The Bear's lexicon: taildragger.

As we walked to the restaurant, the Husky pilot shouted after us, "hey, don't let her eat all the food before we get there!" They were a good natured group. The Husky pilot showed me pictures taken of the other aircraft in close formation while en route to St Mary's. Then he showed me pictures of the land where he was actively building his own turf runway. The group was soon joined by another Citabria and Husky, all waiting in anticipation for the final aircraft to arrive. This aircraft, a vintage WACO biplane, was on its first cross country flight following a 5,000 hour restoration.

When the WACO approached, the other pilots rushed out to the restaurant balcony to witness the landing. The Bear and I joined them. The WACO did not disappoint. She was a magnificent phoenix wearing crimson Ceconite and swinging a metal prop polished to a mirror finish. Her pilot set her down in a perfect three point landing on the grass parallel to the paved runway. It was the first biplane that The Bear had ever seen outside of a museum.

Lunch was yummy. The Bear had chicken fingers and, after conducting a brief forensic investigation, I was pleased to find that they were actually sliced breast meat rather than minced and reformed "chicken". I had the grilled chicken, pesto, and red pepper sandwich.

Finished with lunch, The Bear and I bid farewell to the other pilots and returned to Warrior 481. Taxiing for departure, we waved enthusiastically to a little boy with his grandparents, staring at the assembled aircraft with rapt fascination.

The Pennsylvania landscape was in transition. Valleys and fields were still green, but surrounded by hills topped with bare trees.

In places, patches of bright yellow coniferous trees really stood out against the barren hillsides. Hopefully, these are the types of conifers that are supposed to change color in fall. I found it curious that clusters of dark evergreens were surrounded by a single row of yellow conifers.

The Bear and I continued to sight see on the way home, enjoying our perspective high above the terrain. We circled Rushford Lake, wondering what happened to all the water.

Docks projected impotently from emerald shorelines, high and dry over brown muck.

At the southeast end of the dried up lake, we discovered Caneadea Dam. Maybe someone forgot to close the gate and all the water ran away?

The real answer is that the lake is drained every October so that residents can do their dock maintenance.

Back at Le Roy, The Bear assisted with her first oil change. Then we cleaned up our mess, patted the Warior on the nose for giving us such a nice ride, and departed for home. There may not be many more nice warm flying days in 2011. I'm glad we were able to take advantage of this one.

The Pilgrimage That Almost Wasn't

2011-10-22T21:21:00.000-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time(hours)
22 Oct 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - OFP (Hanover, VA) - MQI (Manteo, NC) - ONX (Currituck, NC) - 5G0	9.6	1001.8

"...Achieved by Dauntless Resolution..."

On December 17, 1903, Orville Wright took the controls of an underpowered wooden craft with muslin-skinned wings and made a 12 second, 120 foot baby step into the age of modern aeronautics. Though it has often been claimed that various others built a modern (self powered and controllable) aircraft before the Wrights, no evidence more compelling than the John T Daniels photo of the Flyer departing Earth under its own power has been produced to date. Justifiably, the windswept location outside of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina is viewed as hallowed ground by most aviators.

For me, personal milestones converged in the fall of 2011: a decade since my first solo (September 26, 2001) and 1000 hours of logged flight time. A pilgrimage to the Outer Banks, to the very spot where the Wrights first demonstrated tenuous mastery over the three axes of flight, seemed an appropriate way to celebrate.

The initial goal was to include a visit to First Flight Airport in Kill Devil Hills, NC as a part of The Bear's great southern odyssey from the previous summer. However, once I began to flight plan the route, I came to understand that the Outer Banks are much too far east to serve as a convenient stop between Upstate New York and southwest Florida.

A weekend trip perhaps? The round trip flight time would be close to nine hours and an overnight trip seemed a better way to maximize our time and enjoyment at the destination. Weekends came and went; weather, work, and life failed to align in a productive manner.

Maybe a day trip, then. A long day, surely, but manageable with an early start. I planned a route, identified worthwhile airports to visit along the way, and developed a three dimensional understanding of the many places in the area where Warrior 481 and I should not stray. A plan came into being. Meanwhile, amber and scarlet leaves fluttered on a chill autumn breeze.

Finally, I identified October 22, 2011 as a day when I had time available for a solo day trip and the forecast was favorable.

Of course, there is a tremendous difference between a forecast and a promise.

Scud

I am not a crack of dawn type of pilot. I would love to be, really. Once I get myself out of bed, I truly am a morning person, productive and energetic. But with the airport 45 minutes away from home, I gave up trying to beat the sun into the sky long ago.

Nevertheless, I left home in darkness on the morning of October 22 and arrived in Le Roy at dawn. Not that dawn could be easily identified as such. A leaden ceiling covered the entire region. By "region", I refer to the northeast United States, not just Rochester. The forecast remained quite favorable for a VFR flight to the Outer Banks, but it was pushed out several hours. Although ceilings were high enough in New York to make the flight safely, they were unacceptably low through the heart of Pennsylvania. Northern Virginia was also overcast, but VFR. Skies were clear in southern Virginia.

Climbing through a hole in the cloud deck under the morning sun

I decided to cancel the trip, do some local flying under the ceiling, and return home.

Then, without much warning, an enormous hole opened in the clouds directly over the Le Roy airport. Morning sunshine streamed through, banishing the dull gray world with warm, vibrant color as I stared in amazement. I am not one to believe in signs of divine intervention, but I had to at least take a look.

Warrior 481 and I climbed above the deck to investigate. A few other ragged holes existed around the Rochester airspace. Beyond that, as far as the eye could see in all directions, lay a flat white expanse apparently stretching to the ends of the world.

I am generally comfortable flying VFR over the clouds provided that a verified "out" exists, usually a weather report from an airport ahead indicating scattered or fewer clouds overhead. The object is to avoid becoming trapped over the clouds as I cannot legally descend through them. Though it would be a long trip over an unbroken undercast, I knew that skies were clear over airports near my destination. With this assurance and plenty of fuel on board, I turned on course, called Rochester approach for flight following, and was on my way.

The cloud tops were completely flat and no build ups interrupted the perfect horizon in any direction. Some very high clouds handily attenuated the intense morning sunlight and cast large shadows across the cloudscape below. The air was perfectly smooth.

So passed New York and Pennsylvania. Cleveland Center was managing several aircraft en route to State College, PA and I observed several of them before they ducked into the clouds on instrument approaches. As I was handed off from sector to sector, each controller dutifully reminded me to "remain VFR", but otherwise had very little to say.

Mystery Goo

I bypassed my original intended stopping point, Orange County, VA. The ceiling was disintegrating, but the holes were still too small for comfort. I still had two hours of fuel on board, having deliberately taken on nearly a full load to maximize my options. I changed my destination to one of several preselected alternates with Potomac Approach (the TRACON - terminal radar approach control - responsible for Washington Baltimore International, Dulles International, Regan National, Richmond, and Andrews Air Force Base). A few miles later, the ceiling opened up over Hanover County Municipal Airport (OFP) near Richmond and I notified Potomac Approach that I was going there instead.

With concern in his voice, the controller queried, "Warrior 481, are you having an emergency?"

"Negative," I responded, "just ready for a rest room break."

The controller chuckled and asked me to report back when I had Hanover County's automated weather information and the airport in sight. As I descended below the clouds, Potomac Approach was trying to help another VFR pilot who was unsure of how high the cloud bases and tops were. During a lull in that exchange, I keyed the microphone and reported, "Warrior 481 has the ASOS at Hanover and the airport in sight. Cloud tops are 5000 feet with bases just above 4000."

"Thanks for that Warrior 481, squawk VFR, frequency change approved, give me a call back when you're ready to continue on your way." I acknowledged and heard Potomac Approach verify that the other aircraft overheard my cloud data before switching frequencies.

On the ground at Hanover County, I made my way to Heart of Virginia Aviation for a pit stop and to request fuel. While I waited, the locals were carrying on an animated debate about the chemical nature of a green mystery substance dripping from the cowling of a Piper Archer on the ramp. Could it be antifreeze? Not likely from an air cooled engine! The entertaining debate continued as I paid my bill.

Walking back to Warrior 481, I passed the Archer and studied the puddle around the nose tire. It certainly looked like antifreeze. If it was antifreeze, somebody, somewhere, was very confused.

Back in the air on flight following with Potomac Approach, I passed through the outer area of Richmond Class C airspace and followed the James River toward Norfolk. I was switched to a new sector that was surprisingly quiet. In fact, I heard no other aircraft on frequency, which seemed odd for a busy TRACON.

Then I heard from Potomac Approach again.

"Warrior 481, I want to talk to you for a minute."

Uh oh.

The Chat and the Ghost Fleet

In the ensuing pause, I mentally replayed all of the interactions I had with Potomac Approach that morning, desperately trying to identify something I had done wrong. I studied the GPS,verifying that I did not blunder through any restricted airspace.

"I almost bought your airplane seven years ago," continued Potomac Approach. It took me a moment to realize that I was not in trouble for anything. He continued, "it was for sale in Oklahoma January of 2004 and I went out there to look at it."

I laughed, surprised and relieved by the direction the conversation was taking. "I bought it in Oklahoma in March of that year," I responded.

"I remember the tail number because, if you turn it into a date, it's February 14, 1981, the first Valentine's Day my wife and I were together."

"Did she ever forgive you for NOT buying the airplane?" I asked.

"The airplane seemed nice, but I was uncomfortable with the long down time it had in the 1980's." I explained that I had worried about that too, but that the engine had been overhauled twice since and the airframe was carefully inspected for corrosion.

Interesting shoreline features along the James River near Aberdeen Field

"Makes sense," responded Potomac Approach. "But I couldn't get past that. It flew well and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with it except that one of the fuel drains leaked." I smiled, remembering that one of the first things John in Three Rivers did when I brought the airplane home was replace the port wing fuel drain.

I suddenly felt very uncomfortable as it is not appropriate to hold long conversations on any frequency, particularly approach. In hindsight, I suspect that I was specifically switched to a frequency that Potomac Approach was not using that morning so that the controller could chat with me about the airplane. With the controller driving the conversation, I decided that it must be ok.

The James River, looking southeast toward Norfolk

"Small world, huh? Good to talk to you," finished the controller. "Why don't you give Norfolk Approach a call on one one eight point niner, I think they're ready for you now." I thanked him for chatting and switched frequencies, immediately rewarded by the typical cacophony one expects on an approach frequency in the middle of a sunny, Saturday morning.

An unidentified river winds toward the Atlantic coastline

Looking down, I was surprised to see several ships moored in the James River, packed tightly together side by side. The sectional chart even identified these ships as a visual reporting point called "dead fleet". They were all that remained of the National Defense Reserve Fleet moored in the James River, a group of mothballed ships waiting to be called back for active duty in times of need.

Proceeding further, the Atlantic Ocean came into sight, my destination tantalizingly close. I flew along the Atlantic coast, marveling at the delicate arc of earth forming the barrier islands and wondering how something so fragile could survive on the cusp of open ocean.

Kill Devil Hills

First Flight Airport and the Wright Brothers Memorial

Then, my destination was in sight. I felt a tremendous sense of satisfaction as I looked down on the massive granite memorial perched atop the dune in Kill Devil Hills, the ostensible birthplace of modern aviation. Having finally arrived, I turned Warrior 481 southward and continued right on past.

Wally World All Over Again

While planning the flight that morning, I discovered that First Flight Airport was closed. I would later learn that the reason for the closure was to facilitate the "Soaring 100" celebration, commemorating Orville Wright's record setting nine minute and 45 second glider flight from Kill Devil Hill on October 24, 1911.

As I stared at the impersonal NOTAM declaring the airport closed that morning, I felt an incredible sense of dismay. After so much planning and biding my time for an appropriate day, someone went and closed Mecca on me! Even though I had not actually traveled anywhere yet, I understood exactly how Clark Griswold felt at the end of National Lampoon's Vacation. I wanted to punch the moose square in the nose, too.

But then I realized that I could still get there by landing at nearby Dare County Airport and driving over, still making the pilgrimage, even if not landing at First Flight Airport itself. This seemed a reasonable compromise and, when the heavens cleared over the Le Roy airport that morning, I set out.


Oregon Inlet

Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge

I proceeded slightly further south, sightseeing over the Outer Banks, then turned back to Roanoke Island and Dare County Airport (MQI) in Manteo, North Carolina. The threshold of runway 5 is just a few feet from the water of Roanoke Bay. On short final, I realized that, despite our summer jaunt to the Florida Keys, I was passing closer to sea water (corrosive, corrosive, sea water) than ever before.

Southern tip of Roanoke Island

I landed on Roanoke Island, home to the Lost Colony and birthplace of Virginia Dare, the first child born in the New World to English parents. Then I completed my pilgrimage to the Wright Brothers Memorial, venturing forth in a well-used, gunmetal gray Dodge Intrepid.

"In Commemoration of the Conquest of the Air"

Even from a distance, the enormous granite monument perched atop the dune in Kill Devil Hills was impressive. I made my way upward, heeding signs requesting visitors to preserve the fragile hill by staying on sidewalks. The dune evidently needed to be carefully stabilized before the monument could be built.

At the top of the hill, the 90 foot tall structure is inscribed with:

"In commemoration of the conquest of the air by the brothers Wilbur and Orville Wright conceived by genius achieved by dauntless resolution and unconquerable faith."

From the top of the hill, a steady wind blew from the northeast, modern day validation for the Wright's choice of this dune as launching point for their early glider experiments over a century ago.

I wandered the site, visiting the life sized sculpture by Stephen Smith depicting Orville's first successful flight in the Flyer. The magnificent sculpture was commissioned specifically for the Centennial of Flight celebration in 2003.

Orville's bronze visage peered forward expectantly, seeming to see beyond 1903 and the sands of Kill Devil Hill. I wondered what Orville would make of modern aviation? Of TFRs (temporary flight restrictions) and other imaginary boundaries in the open sky intended to keep airplanes out?

As I pondered this, a tow plane and glider departed the airport, part of the Soaring 100 celebration. It seemed a fitting tribute to see powered and unpowered aircraft, climbing into the air together over the historic site.

I wandered to the site of the first flights, studying the gradual advancement of markers defining the lengths of each hop that occurred on December 17, 1903; visible evidence of how the Wrights progressively improved their mastery of the notoriously unstable Flyer.

Returning Home

I returned the Intrepid to Dare County airport with more gasoline in the tank than it had when I departed. Aloft, I flew back over Kill Devil Hills before turning north to Currituck Airport (ONX), where the fuel was anachronistically priced below five dollars a gallon.

With tanks full, I departed for home about an hour before sunset with the intention of flying non-stop.

Near Richmond, Virginia, a thin layer of clouds appeared below my 6500 foot cruise altitude. From flight planning, I expected the skies to be clear of clouds until I reached Altoona, Pennsylvania. North of that, I anticipated that the remainder of the flight would be under a scattered to overcast layer.

The sun set while I was rounding the southwest corner of the Washington DC Special Flight Rules Area (SFRA). Weather reports from airports ahead in northern Virginia verified clear skies along my course, so I remained above the ceiling during the glorious sunset and shortly left the clouds behind

Skies remained clear until I reached State College, Pennsylvania. I descended to 4500 feet and cruised the rest of the way home at that altitude, listening intently to weather reports ahead. Though the automated stations frequently called for overcast ceilings, the Big Dipper was often visible at my 11:00 and provided a handy check of sky condition. I marked safe ports as I passed them, knowing them to be clear in the event that I needed to return for the night. I monitored ground lights, watching for any voids that might mark the intrusion of a cloud into my flight path. There was one south of Rochester, easily detected by the fact that a dark horizon existed where the lights of Rochester should have been. After navigating around the black hole, the lights of Rochester appeared to guide me home.

GPS ground track from Currituck, NC to Le Roy, NY

Somewhere in the darkness along the way, I surpassed the 1000 hour mark. The landing at Le Roy was, fittingly, nearly perfect.

I took a moment to reflect on the day after settling Warrior 481 back in the hangar. I had made the pilgrimage and achieved 1000 flight hours in the process. It was my longest day of flying ever, yet I still felt energized and mentally sharp. I think upgrading to the Zulu active noise reduction headset has significantly improved my endurance and resistance to fatigue on long flights. Reupholstering the seats two years ago probably helped, too. Though I am not certain of this, I believe that the 4.1 hour flight from Currituck to Le Roy is the longest single leg I have flown to date.

I arrived home in darkness, just as I had left early that morning.

Epilogue: The Airplane with No Wheels

Twenty four hours after departing Kill Devil Hills, I was aboard an airliner flying over the Potomac River bound for Reagan National Airport. The view was outstanding as my window momentarily aligned with the Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument, and Capitol. I was traveling to Washington DC to give an invited presentation at a conference.

The Bear plays with the "airplane with no wheels"

On Thursday, October 27, I brought closure to my pilgrimage by visiting the 1903 Wright Flyer at the Smithsonian. Since she was old enough to speak, The Bear has referred to the Flyer as "the airplane with no wheels".

A docent stood before the Flyer, skillfully regaling his listeners with tales of the brothers from Dayton who conquered the sky. He spoke knowledgeably about the site at Kitty Hawk / Kill Devil Hills, describing the terrain in the detailed fashion of someone who had personally made the pilgrimage. The specifics resonated strongly with my recent memory. I could not help but smirk a bit when he pointed out something that my daughter had always noticed, that the Flyer had no wheels.

The tour group moved on. I remained behind, momentarily alone in the exhibit, to contemplate the delicate contraption from which my beloved Piper is descended and to pay silent tribute to the men whose dauntless resolution finally tamed the ether.

Quiet Celebration

2011-10-10T22:21:00.000-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time(hours)
10 Oct 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - FZY (Fulton, NY) - K09 (Piseco, NY) - 5G0	3.7	992.2

I took a vacation day from work in hopes of seeing some fall color. From "The Weather Channel", I knew that the Adirondack High Peaks were already past peak color, but that foliage on the more diminutive peaks to the south might still favor a brighter complexion.

It was a quiet morning at the Le Roy Airport on October 10. Not a creature (or airplane) was stirring.

Oswego County Airport looked inviting, so I stopped for fuel. When did $5.30/gal become a bargain?

The low-lying areas around Piseco Lake were still quite colorful, though the higher peaks surrounding the area skewed more amber than crimson.

The Piseco Airport, located on the north end of Piseco Lake, was deserted when we arrived.

I seated myself on a shaded bench with a view of the trees paralleling the runway to the west. Breathing deep of the clean air, alone at the quiet country airport, I savored a simple picnic lunch.

As I finished, another aircraft landed. The pilot of the Light Sport Aircraft handled the squirrely winds spilling over the western peaks far more capably than I.

On departure, I circled the area once to get a final look before returning home.

Back to work tomorrow...

Backyard Flying

2011-09-26T22:57:00.000-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time(hours)
26 Sep 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - GVQ (Batavia, NY) - 5G0	1.4	987.5

I departed Genesee County Airport after a successful VFR transponder check, one of several recurring maintenance items that aircraft owners need to manage. A scattered cloud deck had moved in, drifting over a landscape already blushing with the faintest hint of autumn. The atmospheric conditions seemed to filter those solar rays reaching the Earth, enhancing the developing color.

Rather than return home immediately, I flew around the local area, a region I've taken to calling the "backyard".

When I was a kid, I had a swing set and a sandbox in my backyard. When the Warrior and I were based in Michigan, my backyard featured a huge lake and a nifty little red lighthouse at the end of a long pier. Now I have a 107 foot high waterfall (Middle Falls, Letchworth State Park). I really like the waterfalls in my backyard.

Here are Middle Falls again. High zoom + image stabilization = the illusion that I am flying way too low (I'm not). The little red and white dots in the lower right corner of frame are people and provide a good sense of scale.

Just upriver from Middle Falls are the 70 foot high Upper Falls, a narrow horseshoe that seems to focus the energy of the rushing Genesee River the way a parabolic mirror might focus light or radio signals.

The scattered cloud deck at 4000 (-ish) feet cast blotchy shadows across the farmland in my backyard.

Parts of my backyard are striped. I know there's a practical reason for this, but prefer to ascribe it to whimsy.

The curious quality of today's late afternoon sunlight seemed to make the harvest fields pop with color.

I'm not entirely sure what this area is. World's dullest golf course? A tree farm with poor space utilization? Maybe I don't know my backyard as well as I think I do. It was Mark who later identified this as Davis Countryside Meadows golf course.

Eventually, just like when I was a kid, it was time to stop playing in the backyard and return home. Ray recently had new stripes painted on all surfaces.

An obligatory close up of the ramp area, all dressed up with new sealant and paint. The home 'drome is looking pretty good!

I felt quite content after my casual jaunt in the backyard this evening; over waterfalls, windmills, and patterned fields. The best part about this backyard is that I can enjoy it without ever needing to mow.

"Remember"

2011-09-11T22:24:00.000-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time(hours)
11 Sep 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - FZY (Fulton, NY) - 5G0	2.0	983.7

The day started off being all about pedal planes.

On the second Sunday of every summer month, EAA chapter 486 at the Oswego County Airport (FZY) puts on a terrific fly-in breakfast. The Bear's favorite part about these breakfasts are the pedal planes built by EAA members that are available for children to "fly". September 11 was to be our first and final chance to attend in 2011. The Bear was quite eager to put her longer, stronger legs to good use in a kid-powered P-51.

I checked the AWOS before we departed Le Roy and conditions at FZY were good VFR. The skies around Rochester were clear as The Bear and I passed through Rochester's airspace. Ahead, I could see an isolated patch of low clouds, but believed our destination to be beyond them.

I was wrong.

The automated weather reporting system was calling for cloud ceilings at 400' and 3500', broken. The report of a broken layer at 3500' over the airport was dubious, we were near this altitude and there was no layer. But there were clearly low clouds over the field and they may very well have been at 400'. I circled the field, debating internally about what to do, dreading having to explain to The Bear that some water vapor stood between her and a nirvana of pedaling.

Then I watched a Cessna depart and saw that he was able to fly the pattern below the clouds; the ceiling was most definitely not 400 feet. We flew a wide pattern to clear the low clouds in Class E airspace and turned final for runway 15. The clouds were actually much higher than they appeared from above and the approach and landing were trivial as we remained clear of them in the Class G airspace overlying the airport.

As we ate our pancake breakfast, a 9/11 memorial began. Everyone stood for the presentation of colors. This was followed by some short speeches from elected officials. The next presentation was the "Toast to Fallen Comrades", adapted from the military tradition as a moving tribute to those who lost their lives on 9/11. The presiding officer provided a narration of the symbolism surrounding each aspect of the round, white-clothed table. He punctuated the description of each symbol with the word, "remember". A lone piper stood in the rear of the hangar and played Amazing Grace.

The toast concluded as six cadets, in unison, inverted the goblets at each unoccupied place setting.

"The glass is inverted, they cannot toast with us at this time," the officer finished. "Remember."

During the moment of silence that followed, I held The Bear's hand. She observed the memorial without comment, without impatience, and with a gravity that belied her four years. During the weighty silence in the crowded hangar, I wondered how I would explain to her what she was seeing. Outside, the muted sound of airplanes landing and departing could be heard.

To me, THAT is the sound of freedom. In spite of what happened a decade ago, the wonderful roar of aircraft engines are still heard at little airports like Oswego County.

We slipped out before the memorial was over. I had forestalled The Bear long enough in her quest to fly the pedal planes.

My little aviatrix skillfully navigated the wooden airplanes around the ramp, having come so far from the first attempt in 2008 when her legs were not long enough to reach the pedals.

She tried all three and had an absolute blast. Others watched her with smiles on their faces, taking respite from the somber memorial.

In that was a useful lesson, I think. We marked the occasion of 9/11 with remembrance. But we also reveled in soaring through the sky that morning, in spite of those who tried to transform aircraft into symbols of terror. We exercised our freedom to fly, with piston and pedal power. It is important to remember, but it is essential to go on living.

The Bear(s) posed with Warrior 481 prior to departure.

The low clouds had long since burned off once we climbed above the airport. I tried to get The Bear to see the difference...

...but her focus was elsewhere. Though the outbound flight held her attention well, she retreated to her MobiGo for the flight home.

Once back at Le Roy, we cleaned bugs off of the airplane together and departed for home.

"Did you like your pancakes this morning?' I asked.

"Yes!" The Bear enthused, then became thoughtful for a moment. "Daddy, why did those people come in?"

"During breakfast?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Because something very bad happened ten years ago, before you were born. They were remembering what happened."

The Bear thought on this for a moment. "Why?"

"Because, sometimes, it's important for us to remember even bad things."

The Bear accepted this without further comment on the subject.

"Remember those pedal planes, Daddy?" she asked, moving on to a new topic in the typical "oh look, a chicken" manner of a four year old. After expanding on how cool they were and how much fun she had, she eventually fell into a contented slumber.

The lesson for me that morning was simple. As a citizen of the world, it is important to remember. But as a father, pedal planes are important, too.

St Lawrence Sunset

2011-09-10T21:38:00.000-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time(hours)
10 Sep 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - OGS (Ogdensburg, NY) - FZY (Fulton, NY) - SDC (Williamson, NY) - 5G0	3.8	981.7

The evening of September 10, 2011 was forecast to be clear and cool with a full moon, calm winds, and no ceiling or fog.

Such evenings should never be squandered.

I owed myself a quiet cross country flight to someplace new. Additionally, with days becoming shorter in advance of autumn, I wanted to regain my night currency. I decided that it would be fun to do a cross country flight to Ogdensburg, NY and return home after sunset. This flight would take me along Lake Ontario to the St Lawrence Seaway and the Thousand Islands, a region I have not visited since Kristy and I first flew there five years ago

I departed Le Roy at 6:00 pm and flew east along Lake Ontario, past familiar landmarks like Little Sodus Bay (above). The sun was already low enough to offset ground features with high contrast. I contemplated a fuel stop at Oswego County Airport (FZY), but wanted to reach the Thousand Islands region before sunset. I had departed Le Roy with three hours of fuel on board and estimated Ogdensburg to require 1.5 hours. I really did not need the extra fuel for the outbound trip.

Unless Ogdensburg is sold out, I thought to myself wryly. That would be inconvenient.

Looking for sandy beaches on Lake Ontario? They're all on the east end. As I rounded the end of the lake, I noticed that the full moon had already risen.

While directing my ship along Lake Ontario at 3500 feet, the date did not escape me. September 10, 2011, the eve of a dreadful anniversary. On the same evening ten years prior, I was also in an airplane. I was flying steerage on an airliner en route to Boston Logan for a week of training; my closest brush with infamy to date.

The sun tracked toward the horizon rapidly, saturating eye and camera alike while casting a golden luster across the world.

I arrived at the St Lawrence Seaway, overflying the intersection of I-81 and NY-12.

The Thousand Islands Bridge carries automobile traffic across the St Lawrence between the United States and Canada.

A familiar landmark caught my eye; Boldt Castle on Heart Island. Something about this island property with its eclectic assortment of outbuildings reminds me of the computer game Myst from the 1990's. I was careful circling Heart Island because it is literally spitting distance from the Canadian border. [For the record, I would never advocate spitting at our neighbors to the north]

While I was still over Alexandria Bay, the Thousand Islands were cast into shadow as old Sol reached the end of a day's journey.

I landed at Ogdensburg twenty minutes after sunset. Warrior 481's wheels sweetly kissed the paved runway. It was a landing to be proud of and a good way to mark an arrival at a new airport (#128). Under a twilight glow, I taxied up to the fuel farm, shut down, and swiped my card at the self serve kiosk.

"Verifying transaction..." said the device. I waited, engulfed in a cloud of gnats attracted by the fuel farm lighting. Then, the kiosk reset to the welcome screen.

Uh-oh. Hope they're not sold out.

Evidently, I'm just a poor swiper. I tried again with the same card and was quickly vetted to purchase some expensive blue petroleum byproduct.

After allowing the fuel to settle, I sumped the tanks and found some water introduced with my newly purchased fuel. This is not something that a pilot ever wants to find, especially at the onset of a night flight. After satisfying myself that had I removed all the water from the affected tank, I was back in the air about 45 minutes after sunset.

Across the seaway, the Canadian horizon glowed crimson like a tungsten filament tickled by a low electrical current. Over time, the glow faded to darkness. The bright face of the moon shone down on the world, reflecting off of my port wing and illuminating ground features like the Lake Ontario shoreline in a monochrome twilight. Occasionally, a flash from the ground would draw my eye as the moon reflected back at me from a waterway below.

Watertown passed to the east, an amber constellation of sodium vapor lights draped across the land. From the southeast corner of Lake Ontario, a scarlet orb bloomed below, became pixelated, and dissolved. Fireworks.

I reached Oswego County Airport in Fulton, NY to do a night landing. Turning left from base to final, treetops passed beyond the port wingtip like a rough moonscape, devoid of color under the stark evening lighting. A flash in the dark marked more fireworks from a community to the south of Fulton. The landing was smooth, soft.

It was here that I made my most foolish mistake of the evening. While taxiing back to the departure end of the runway, I discovered an eyelash in my right eye. Acting to remove it, I firmly planted the tip of my index finger directly on the right lens of my glasses. After twenty years of wearing glasses, one would think I would be used to them by now. Departure occurred a few minutes later, after stopping the aircraft and bringing warm breath and a clean shirttail to bear on the smudge.

From the pattern at Williamson-Sodus, the horizon sparkled with other fireworks displays near Rochester. On final, I eased the throttle back to idle once the runway number was illuminated in the Warrior's landing light. Squeak. Another soft landing. At full power, I accelerated between the parallel strips of runway lights, then pitched skyward and back into the darkness.

On the last landing of the night, Warrior 481 and I settled gently to the pavement at Le Roy.

Mission accomplished. I was night current and rejuvenated.

Rescue from Pontiac

2011-08-12T12:33:00.076-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
12 Aug 2011	N21481	PTK (Waterford, MI) - 5G0 (LeRoy, NY)	2.2	975.2

Very quickly, plans fell into place to retrieve Warrior 481 from Oakland County International, where we had abandoned her on August 7 owing to pervasive thunderstorms along the route home. Two of my fellow Le Roy pilots very enthusiastically volunteered to help: Ed with his Arrow and Darrell with his Skyhawk. Matt had dismantled his Lancair on August 6 for annual and was unable to help, though this did not stop him from participating in the planning of the rescue mission. This mostly amounted to him teasing Darrell about being "part girl" for not wanting to fly over Canada without a valid passport.

In the end, Ed and I flew over Canada early Friday afternoon en route to Pontiac. Along the way, I obtained the ultimate pre-flight briefing by actually flying the route before I had to fly it myself. Most of the flight was at 6,000 or 8,000 feet. The Arrow punched through building cumulus, going from visual to instrument conditions and back again rapidly, flying through vast canyons of vapor. It was my first time in IMC in a light airplane.

Ed settled the Arrow gently on Runway 27 Left at Pontiac and we taxied to the Pontiac Air Center (PAC). Warrior 481 was waiting there for us, still bundled in her cockpit cover. My mother was there, having stopped on her way home from work to check on the airplane and unaware that I was en route. She helped me wrangle the cover off the Warrior. During preflight, I found that the nose strut had gone flat, but Doug from PAC was able to add some additional nitrogen in between juggling the needs of two private jets and a helicopter that arrived while we were there. We watched Ed depart in the Arrow while still waiting for the nitrogen charge.

I flew home at 9,500 feet in clear skies with an average ground speed of 125 knots and a true airspeed of 120. The building cumulus that Ed and I saw flying west had mostly dissipated. It was a quiet, smooth flight home with my iPod quietly playing symphonic music in the background. ATC chatter across Ontario, as usual, was minimal.

Back home from the Le Roy airport, I discovered this chalk mural depicting my day's adventure inscribed on the driveway, courtesy of my family. Out from Pontiac, over the cross-hatched farm country of Ontario, past Niagara falls, and back home at dusk. I must have made for a curious sight, standing on a step ladder in the middle of my driveway trying to get the whole image in frame. Talk about low level aerial photography.

I think everyone was glad to have Warrior 481 back home.

Thanks, Ed. I hope I can repay the favor someday.

Air Zoo, Revisited

2011-08-05T21:34:00.097-04:00

During our recent visit to Kalamazoo, we spent a morning at the Air Zoo, where I once filled my Saturdays giving tours. While we were there, we got to spend some time with Nate, Tamra, and my former partner in crime, Dar. The museum appears to be thriving and they have added on a new display space for World War II aircraft.

The Bear led the way through the cloud tunnel and into the museum proper.

One thing I like about the Air Zoo collection is the perspective it provides on the first century of flight. An exact scale replica of the 1903 Wright Flyer seems to soar over the museum's F-14 Tomcat.

This Grumman Mallard is a classy addition made to the collection since I moved away from Kalamazoo.

The one of a kind Curtiss XP-55 Ascender (Ass-Ender) is finally on display in the main building. I remember when the aircraft first arrived from the Smithsonian years ago, dirty and in pieces.

I like how these pseudo-adversaries are paired off. The foreground aircraft is a Hispano Buchon, a Spanish version of the Bf-109 with a different engine (this one is right side up, making it easy to differentiate from the inverted inline German engines used by Messerschmidt). In reality, the Bf-109 would have fought against the P-47 Thunderbolt (background), not the Buchon. Interestingly, this Buchon is a movie star. It portrayed a Bf-109 in "The Battle of Britain".

A Pratt & Whitney J-58 high bypass turbo ramjet engine - the power behind Lockheed's amazing SR-71 Blackbird. This is one HUGE engine.

The Bear tries to blend in with the World War I scenes in Rick Herter's magnificent Century of Flight mural.

Stepping through a new doorway in the back of the main gallery leads to the new World War II hangar, where I came face to face with the Air Zoo's Corsair.

The space is dominated by the C47 Skytrain, arranged as though it was towing a CG-4A glider. Years ago, I used to take kids into the airplane, have them snap imaginary static lines to the steel cable running along the ceiling, and talk about the terrifying prospect of leaping out of the airplane at night over war torn Europe. Sadly, the C47 is no longer open to the public.

My old friend, the T-28 Trojan. I still vividly remember than hot afternoon many summers ago when I went aloft in this awesome airplane. It's still painted up in the well-done, if inauthentic, Blue Angels paint scheme.

Every time we revisit the Air Zoo, we stop to pay our respects to Sue.

After three hours, a few rides, a scavenger hunt for The Bear, and a tour of unfinished display spaces coordinated by my friends, it was time to seek lunch.

Good bye again, Air Zoo. We'll be back.

The "Zoo" Trip

2011-08-04T22:13:00.148-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
4 Aug 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - AZO (Kalamazoo, MI)	3.3	971.9
7 Aug 2011	N21481	AZO - PTK (Pontiac, MI)	1.1	973.0

It was time for our annual trip to southwest Michigan to visit our three favorite zoos: Air-, Binder Park-, and, of course, Kalama-.

As always, we flew over Niagara Falls on the way. The winds aloft were light (5 knots-ish) and out of the north such that, for once, our westward ground speed matched our true airspeed. Without struggling against the typical westerly headwind, our passage over Canada was swift.

A colorful Ontario quilt flowed beneath us as we soared over Canada.

As the late afternoon sun transitioned toward dusk, field boundaries were enhanced by lengthening shadows.

Although the New York and Canadian portions of the flight were under clear skies, southeast Michigan lay under a layer of clag with tops at 7000 feet. However, we climbed above the clouds with assurances from automated reporting stations further along our route that the skies were clear in the middle of the state.

We flew directly over my home town, passing just north of Oakland County International Airport. As we did, the clouds began to break up. While flying over metropolitan Detroit, The Bear entertained herself spotting airliners en-route to Detroit Metro. She is getting quite good at that.

At 8500 feet and above the haze layer, we flew over the Milford Proving Grounds.

Still east of I-69, the Kalamazoo ATIS underwent an hourly update and the skies over Kalamazoo seemed to transform instantly from broken at 4000 feet (per forecast) to clear (decidedly better than forecast).

On approach into Kalamazoo, lush green fields were a welcome change from the water-deprived landscape of Upstate New York. A familiar controller's voice rang in my headset as we were sequenced into the flow of landing traffic at Kalamazoo.

We parked at Duncan Aviation. As always, the line staff were extremely helpful. They brought our rental car directly to the airplane, handing me the keys with the admonishment to "please not drive on the taxiway". There are still no landing, parking, or handling fees for single engine aircraft at Duncan-Kalamazoo. What a great place to visit!

Your tax dollars NOT at work: the unfinished tower at AZO.

Across the field, a new control tower was under construction. Of course, with the government's utter failure to fund the FAA, all work was on hold.

It was a wonderful trip. We spent a morning at the Air Zoo (thanks, Tamra!) and an afternoon in Marge's pool (a highlight for The Bear, who should probably be renamed The Fish). The Bear and I visited John at the Three Rivers Airport, who revealed to us that rumors of N3470R's demise were premature. The Bear was delighted to stand on the wing walk of the rental Cherokee 180 in which I had done some of my early flying. We spent another morning at the Binder Park Zoo, visited with a bunch of friends, and hit every favorite restaurant that we could think of (indeed, this was something of a prolonged $100 hamburger flight for me).

While eating breakfast with friends Sunday morning, the skies darkened. A quick check of the weather radar via iPod (thank goodness Full City Cafe has wireless!) showed a storm on the shoreline of Lake Michigan and moving rapidly eastward. We scrambled for the airport, stopping briefly to top off the gas in the Mercury Grand Marquis Land Barge that Enterprise had dropped off at Duncan for us (come on folks, I asked for a midsize).

We blasted out of Kalamazoo ahead of the storm and landed in Pontiac forty minutes later. By the time we landed, it was raining in Kalamazoo, but the way home was clear. We had lunch with my mom and grandparents. Family-wise, this was a good move and an overdue visit between The Bear and her great-grandparents. Aviation-wise, this was a mistake. When we returned to the airport, convective activity was popping up all around us, along our route, and over home. Particularly over home. "VFR flight not recommended," the briefer needlessly commented.

We waited a couple of hours for the existing thunderstorm warnings to subside, only to have them replaced by more severe forecasts and bigger red blotches on the weather radar. The thunderstorms were not spooling down, they were growing in intensity.

At 3:30 in the afternoon, I made the decision to rent a car and drive home. For the first time ever, I abandoned Warrior 481 far away from home. Seeing my concern, Doug at the Pontiac Air Center promised to pull it inside in the event of any severe storms.

I always bring our passports when we fly over Canada, so it was a simple matter to drive directly through Ontario to get home, approximately paralleling the route we would have flown. The weather we saw from the ground validated my decision to stay out of the sky that evening.

We stopped briefly in Le Roy to retrieve my car, returned the rental at the Rochester airport, and reached home at 2:00 am. We were all very tired.

So tired, in fact, that scheming to rescue Warrior 481 from Pontiac did not really begin in earnest until five hours later.

New Copilot

2011-07-30T21:53:00.006-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
30 Jul 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - DSV (Dansville, NY) - 5G0	1.2	968.0

The Bear has been flying with us since she was five weeks old, accumulating just shy of 150 hours by the time she aged four years. But it is important to emphasize that she has been flying with us for all that time, not just me. The Bear has always flown in the back seat and always needed attention - food, drink, and entertainment - that I could not provide while flying. Someone else has always been there to attend to her needs. For every flight save one, that someone was Kristy.

Today was a milestone for us, a day over four years in coming.

The Bear and I went flying all by ourselves.

She was ready to go. I promised that we would do some turns of the sort that Kristy generally does not enjoy (steep ones). I also promised her the front seat for the first time.

The Bear supervised preflight carefully.

"I am feeling very excited about this flight," I told her as I checked the oil.

"I am feeling very silly about this flight," she responded, giving herself antlers with her hands.

I raised the Warrior's right seat to its highest position so that she could see out the window and installed her car seat.

She was so ready to fly that, halfway through taxi toward the departure end of runway 28 she asked, "Daddy, why aren't we flying yet?" I reminded her of what she already knew; that we had to reach the end of the runway first.

We were still climbing away from the airport into a beautiful, clear blue sky when she inquired, "turns?" I smiled and plead for some patience.

I placed the airport at our tail, flew five miles southwest, then cleared the area. "Ready to do some turns?"

"Ready!" she shouted on the intercom.

"Which way do you want to turn?" I asked. The Bear gestured to the left.

I smoothly rolled Warrior 481 into a steep turn to the left. We completed a 360° turn and I rolled the airplane level again.

"Wow! That was some turn!" The Bear exclaimed, grinning ear to ear.

"Do you want to do that again? Maybe turn toward your side?"

"Yes!" Strapped into the right seat, she pumped her legs up and down in excitement.

The Bear looked out her window as the right wing rolled toward the Earth. As she stared at the green farmland beyond the wingtip, she commented, "oh...turning this way is MUCH better!"

Then, a moment later, "Daddy...I love you."

I know that I should cherish those unsolicited declarations for as long as I can still earn them.

We did at least five steep turns. On the fourth, I began losing altitude and pulled lightly on the yoke to maintain level flight. As the airplane g-loaded slightly, I worried how she might react to the sensation.

"How are you feeling?" I queried.

"I'm feeling..." She paused.

I worried and briefly contemplated the logistics of coaching a four year old in the use of an airsick bag.

"Happy!" she finished.

We flew past Silver Lake, a narrow body of water with a kink at the end. "That lake looks like a golf club," she commented. I knew that that comment would make my in-laws proud.

Several miles away, we could see an array of white posts reaching skyward. "I see windmills!" she cried, pointing at them. They were much too distant for the rotating blades to be visible. Like any experienced aviator, she recognized those windmills with an eye skilled in viewing objects from aloft.

We circled Middle Falls at Letchworth. "That's so cool!" The Bear enthused as she watched the Genesee River cascade one hundred feet down the face of a cliff below.

We landed at Dansville for lunch and hiked to the family restaurant near the airport. We colored on her placemat together and played Twenty Questions while we waited for our food. I guessed hers (Tweety Bird) and she guessed mine (Belle from Beauty and the Beast). Occasionally, I would glance up and see someone at another table watching us with a smile on their face. I am sure it made for a charming tableau as we played together across the restaurant table. But what others did not - could not - realize was that today's meal went far beyond typical Daddy-Daughter stuff.

After a four year wait, The Bear finally became my copilot.

Back at the airport, we watched a yellow Piper Pawnee tow a glider aloft. I tried to explain the concept of a glider to The Bear. This this was no simple task.

We flew directly back to Le Roy, where The Bear and I cleaned up the airplane and put everything away. She asked to see the pictures I had taken and, when I showed her one of the two of us leaning together and smiling in the cockpit she said, "you should put that one on the blog."

So I did.

Sitting at her workbench, she asked to sign my logbook again.

"Fun," she wrote, then signed her name.

Mountain Escape

2011-07-23T15:02:00.248-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
23 Jul 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - LKP (Lake Placid, NY) - FZY (Fulton, NY) - 5G0	4.6	966.8

Rochester, NY is not known for its hot weather. Yet, driving home on Wednesday evening, the outside air temperature was 100°F on the bridge over Irondequoit Bay. Usually, the bay provides some relief from hot weather and brings the temperature down a few degrees relative to the city. Not so this week.

Forecasts suggested another hot weekend in the mid 90's, but clear skies and no precipitation. Flying aboard Warrior 481, we turned northeast to the Adirondack Mountains in hopes of beating the heat. Since moving to New York, Lake Placid has become one of my favorite $100 hamburger destinations. The last time The Bear flew to the Adirondacks, she was not quite three months old. Though we stopped in the mountains of North Carolina recently, the weather situation did not lend itself to sightseeing. This time, we were determined that The Bear would actually see some mountains.

As we departed from Le Roy, The Bear was actively looking out the window.

"There's our hangar! There's our car!" we heard over the intercom as these landmarks dropped away from our climbing airplane.

Knowing that I have pilot friends who fly animal rescue missions, The Bear brought her stuffed snow leopards from the Seneca Park Zoo along. If anyone needed saving from the heat, surely it was the snow leopards.

With a tailwind at 7500', we averaged close to 140 knots (161 mph) most of the way. The Lowville and Tupper South, Central, and East MOAs (military operation areas) were cold (inactive) that morning, allowing us to fly a direct route to Lake Placid. We reached the Adirondack High Peaks surrounding Lake Placid in a short 1.5 hours.

We circled the High Peaks while still talking with Boston Center, flying along a valley marked by Lower and Upper Ausable Lakes (above).

"Those mountains are all covered with grass!" The Bear exclaimed. Kristy explained that those were trees, not grass. Even an experienced aviatrix like The Bear sometimes has trouble reconciling the proper scale of things outside her airplane window.

After circling the High Peaks, we began a descent toward Lake Placid from the southeast, overflying the airport well above pattern altitude to check the windsock. A Super Cub and a NORDO (no radio) Champ were inbound with the Super Cub making all the radio calls. From our position over the airport it was easy to see the tube and rag aircraft; the Champ a yellow dot over the green landscape with the white Cub in trail. We entered the pattern behind the pair. While the approach was good, I managed to plant Warrior 481 on the runway in a flat, three-point stance. THUMP. We had arrived.

On the ramp, we taxied past this jet and parked in a line of other aircraft.

The ski jump facility built for the 1980 winter Olympics towers over the airport. And, is that an ADF antenna on that Cessna? Does anyone still use those?

From the ramp of the Lake Placid airport, the view of the mountains was beautiful. Just ask The Bear! It was still warm and sunny in Lake Placid, but easily ten degrees cooler than Rochester.

I had investigated the idea of staying the night in Lake Placid, but the Ironman triathlon was scheduled for the next day. As a result, hotel rooms were completely unavailable and the town was packed with people prominently displaying their overdeveloped calves.

We rode the free Trolley into town, then wandered along the shore of Mirror Lake (above). We finally stopped at The Cottage where The Bear had her very first $100 hamburger four years prior (which was actually milk, not hamburger).

We ate at The Cottage for old time's sake. The Bear thoroughly enjoyed her "$100 hamburger", which, in reality, was a plate piled high with fresh fruit. Of course, speaking of reality, the expression "$100 hamburger" may not exactly reflect current pricing anymore. Regardless, we had a nice meal on the shore of Mirror Lake after a beautiful, smooth flight to the mountains.

The Bear became tired walking through town, which made us glad that we did not opt to hike up to the 4,867 foot summit of Whiteface Mountain. We assuaged The Bear's exhaustion with some ice cream, which seemed to do the trick.

We had the good fortune of catching the Trolley as soon as we finished our ice cream. Back at the airport, Kristy and The Bear entertained themselves on this impromptu balance beam while I saw to refueling the Warrior. Does that Cessna have an ADF antenna, too? Sheesh.

Parked at the fuel pump, we took this picture (above) of Kristy and The Bear to commemorate The Bear's first post-infancy visit to Lake Placid. It was a deliberate attempt to recreate the photo below from September 2007.

Not bad, huh?

We loaded back up and took to the sky. The wind had shifted to a gusty crosswind, which, given the terrain, led to a bumpy climb. Riding through the bumps always puts Kristy on edge and The Bear to sleep. I was able locate and ride some ridge lift at 1,000 feet per minute from about three to five thousand feet, hastening our arrival into cooler, smoother air (love how that mountain flying training still pays off).

The bumps worked their usual magic on The Bear, who dropped off to sleep before we arrived at an 8500' cruise altitude against a non-negligible headwind. Our average ground speed was 95 knots, spent over a layer of clouds that varied from scattered to broken. Automated weather reports from Fulton, NY promised clear skies ahead, so we stayed above the clouds in the smooth air and crawled against the current.

The wind gradient aloft was sufficient that we saw "leaning towers of cumulus", rather than the standard vertical build ups. We stopped at the Oswego County Airport (FZY, Fulton, NY) for inexpensive fuel ($5.30/gal). The landing was terrific and helped repair my ego after the clunker in Lake Placid. Sadly, the airport was entirely deserted. Oswego County is a terrific facility with large, crossing paved runways in excellent condition. We used the FBO computer to update our knowledge of weather conditions in Rochester before climbing back into the hazy sky.


GPS track from the day's flight. Outbound is shown in red, the rest is the return trip. Wiggles in the return flight are deviations around towering cumulus clouds that penetrated our cruise altitude.

On approach to Le Roy, Ray's voice appeared on the Unicom.

"Warrior 481, winds at the Le Roy International Airport are out of the northwest, about 15 gusting to 20." Evidently, a Canadian aircraft had landed there earlier in the day. Hyperbole aside, he was correct about the winds. I overflew the airport and turned tightly in a descending teardrop maneuver to enter the pattern.

"Why are we turning?" inquired The Bear.

"We have to approach the airport the correct way," Kristy explained.

"I like turning," commented The Bear. That's my girl!

Warrior 481 delicately rolled onto the pavement as Ray and Phil watched from the office.

"I see Mr. Ray's truck!" exclaimed The Bear. Kristy and I laughed, but privately, I was delighted that The Bear spent so much of today's trip looking out her window. Maybe that means she is starting to enjoy the view as much as I do.

I often have first-time passengers write something in my logbook to commemorate the experience in their own words. Though she has been flying with me since she was just a few weeks old, The Bear signed my logbook in her own hand for the first time at the conclusion of this flight.

I am not sure which of us was more excited about her signing my logbook.

Unexpected Visitors at Le Roy

2011-07-14T09:27:00.002-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
14 Jul 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - GVQ (Batavia, NY) - 5G0	1.1	961.0

I hate it when a highway stands between me and a deadline. I was driving westbound on I-490 on my way to the airport. My Comm 1 radio was repaired and the shop in Batavia was waiting for me to pick it up and return a loaner radio that had ridden in my panel for a week. My intention was to arrive before 5:00 pm so that no one had to stay late at work on my account. I reached the Le Roy exit at 4:25 pm. It was going to be close.

From the airport gate, I recognized the airplane parked next to the fuel pump immediately. Black, sleek, and decorated with sponsorship decals. I knew without looking that a placard on the instrument panel would read, "fly it like you STOLE it". It was the black MX-2 flown by Rob Holland, aerobatic pilot extraordinaire. I have watched Rob perform every year at the Geneseo Airshow and never tire of his routines. Rob is often photographed flying inverted in formation with the Blue Angels. He's the real deal. I am not someone who is often starstruck by celebrity, but here was someone I had genuine respect for.

As I waited for the gate to open, I was torn. Arrive at Batavia on time or meet Rob Holland?

Easy decision. I looked at my watch again and decided that I would do both.

I parked my car at the office and walked down to the fuel pump. Rob was standing with Ray and Ed, swapping flying stories. As I approached, Ed exclaimed, "hey Chris, do you want your picture taken with Rob Holland?"

"Um...yeah!"

In addition to being an amazing pilot, Rob is a heck of a nice guy. After all, he graciously indulged all of us at the Le Roy airport that afternoon. A member of his team explained to me that they had chosen Le Roy to do their flights with the local media in preparation for the Rochester airshow.

As for my radio, I did make it to Batavia on time. Rob was still at Le Roy when I returned. I was chagrined that the landing was one my worst of the year.

On departure, Rob skimmed low over the runway and pulled vertical at the departure end. Coming back around, he made a low pass, the air audibly screaming as the MX-2 sliced through it. He gave us a precise wing dip in farewell and joined up with an airborne Bonanza for a photo mission.

Below is a point-of-view example of Rob's work, captured during a 2010 airshow in Florida. Simply amazing.

After Rob left, I had the pleasure of meeting Kim and Laura, who were there visiting Ray. Kim was an old friend of Ray's and Laura was a college-aged girl from France working for Kim as an au pair. As a favor to Ray, I took Laura for her first ride in a light aircraft.

"That was so cool!" she enthused in accented English as we pitched away from the runway (which was by no means as dramatic a maneuver as what Rob Holland had just performed).

It was a brief flight, but memorable for me. After all, it was the first time I'd ever taken someone from France for an airplane ride on Bastille Day.

For the last several years, I have asked first time passengers to sign my logbook to add a personal touch to the record of that day's flight. "Merci beaucoup pour ce special Bastille Day :-)" she wrote.

I came to the airport anticipating a very routine maintenance hop and, instead, met some terrific, unexpected visitors.

Launches from Le Roy

2011-07-10T15:30:00.004-04:00

At the end of the Geneseo Air Show, I drove Jim and Jason back to Le Roy for the flight back to Kalamazoo. They launched within minutes of Matt, who was taking a kid for a ride in his Lancair, "Amanda". After an entire day of photographing airplanes, I just couldn't shut it off.

So here are pictures of Jim and Matt, departing runway 28 at Le Roy.

As I look at these pictures, two things come to mind. The first was that those are some pretty airplanes. The second was that we desperately need some rain in western New York!

The Greatest Show on Turf, 2011 - Jelly Belly

2011-07-10T15:26:00.009-04:00

Kent Pietsch, a newcomer to Geneseo, stole the show in his 1941 Interstate Cadet. The Cadet was made for a limited time by the Interstate Aircraft and Engineering Corporation to train primary military pilots. It's a tandem two-seater comparable to a Piper Cub or Aeronca Champ. According to the announcer, this Cadet had a 90 horsepower engine.

The Jelly Belly Cadet first appeared in the middle of an aerobatic routine flown by Rob Holland and Rick Volker. One of the aerobatic aircraft appeared to clip the Cadet, and a yellow aileron fluttered to the ground. Ah, forced perspective - a trick used so effectively by airshow pilots and Peter Jackson.

Pietsch flew a drunken newbie aerobatic routine on a single aileron while the show announcer played up the "who is this yahoo?" bit. Later, a wheel was observed to fall from the airplane (though both mains were obviously still attached).

Pietsch performed a second routine in the middle of the show with an objective of landing on the roof of a moving RV.

To my eye, this looked completely insane. The winds at Geneseo were variable and gusty. The RV was driving on grass, trying to match the Cadet's speed.

Owing to the unpredictable winds, it took three tries. The first time, the Cadet slipped off the left side of the platform, veered toward the corn, and seemed to clip some of it as he struggled back into the air.

On the third run, Pietsch planted the wheels on the platform. We could see him vigorously working the rudder trying to keep the still-flying tail aligned with the direction of travel in the variable crosswind. He then applied power to crawl along the platform and worked the main wheels into indentations placed near the front.

Success! Looks like that RV needs some enhancement to the front suspension. I'll bet that Pietsch needed that toilet paper lying at the base of the RV when this routine was done.

Of course, the next question becomes: once you have an airplane on the roof, how to do get it off again? The RV drove back to the approach end of the runway, turned around, and accelerated. Pietsch got the tail flying and...

...launched the airplane back into the sky. This was simply incredible to watch. Sure, the raw power of the Viper West F-16 demonstration was impressive, but the airmanship we saw Pietsch demonstrate that afternoon was truly amazing.

Pietsch parked the Cadet close to where we were standing and emerged. Not some aeronautical deity, but just an ordinary looking guy. The woman next to me gushed, "that was so, so, so, so, so AWESOME!" Pietsch laughed.

"What she said!" I added, and earned another chuckle.

Jim commented, "I can't believe you're not sweating more!"

"I don't know about that," Pietsch replied. He pulled his hat off of his head and displayed a moist pate.

"Did you used to be a crop duster?" asked someone next to us.

"Yup," Pietsch answered him with a modest smile.

After all the warbirds, the aerobatic acts, the C-130 and Viper demonstrations, Pietsch closed out the show circling the field at 6000' while Enya's "Sail Away" played over the sound system. He shut down the engine and performed a gorgeous dead-stick aerobatic routine with cotton-candy smoke streaming from the Cadet's wingtips.

Below, Pietsch's RV driver stood in the middle of the runway waiting patiently. When it finally ran out of altitude and energy for aerobatics, the Cadet slipped to the turf and rolled down the runway. The Cadet rolled slower and slower, finally stopping just as the hub of the prop made contact with the palm of RV driver's outstretched hand.

Wow.

What an amazing, quiet, dignified end to an afternoon dominated by the roaring of propellers and the shriek of turbine engines. And to think, I actually considered not going this year!

The Greatest Show on Turf, 2011 - Warbirds

2011-07-10T14:50:00.005-04:00

On July 9, 2011 I went to the always enjoyable airshow in Geneseo, NY, "The Greatest Show on Turf". I was accompanied by friends Jim and Jason, who flew out from Kalamazoo the night before.

Kevin Russo was flying his beautiful T6 Texan, advanced World War II era trainer, when we arrived.

As always, there were a plethora of T6 in Geneseo for the show.

This included the Canadian Harvard Aerobatic Team, a mainstay at Geneseo. I love the sight of those yellow birds against a crisp blue sky.

"The Movie" Memphis Belle, the hometown favorite, flew.

As well as the 1941 Historical Aircraft Group's own C-47, "Whiskey Seven".

Whiskey Seven took to the skies to drop some meat missiles in authentic WWII military garb onto the field.

Other visiting warbirds included the Commemorative Air Force's Douglas SBD-5 Dauntless dive bomber,

P-40 "Jacky C" from the American Air Power Museum,

P-51 Mustang "Never Miss", who made her first appearance at Geneseo in 2010,

a rare P-51C razorbacked Mustang, "Tuskegee Airmen" - a flying tribute to the African American pilots of World War II,

this Corsair, "Sky Boss", from the American Air Power Museum,

the world's only flying Curtiss Helldiver,

(which did some formation work with "Sky Boss")

a Vultee Valiant with an eye-catching paint job, and many, many more.

One disappointment of the day was that the grass runway was deemed too soft for the C-130 Hercules to land. Instead, the Hercules did an aerial drop demonstration that did not go quite as planned. The payload wound up in the adjacent cornfield.

There was also a contingent of World War I replica aircraft flying.

The Red Baron entertained himself chasing aircraft around the sky. This was tremendous fun until another Fokker triplane lost its engine and clipped the corn on his way back to the runway. The aircraft made a partial cartwheel, then came to a stop in a cloud of dust. Happily, the pilot seemed to be ok. The triplane, not so much.

Finally, though not in a warbird, Rob Holland did a magnificent solo aerobatic routine in his MX2. I never tire of watching this guy fly. The problem here is that I can hardly ever get a decent shot of Rob because he's always moving too fast and my camera is SLOW.

Regardless, it was one heck of a great day in Geneseo!

Ghosts of the Past

2011-07-01T22:17:00.006-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
1 Jul 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - GVQ (Batavia, NY) - 5G0 - SDC (Williamson, NY) - 5G0	2.3	959.9

In 1929, Donald Woodward (as in the Woodward family of Jell-O fame) established a grand airport southeast of Le Roy. It had four paved runways and a large hangar building with a control tower at one corner. By all accounts, it was a remarkable facility. Amelia Earhart once visited Woodward Field because Donald had purchased her former airplane, The Friendship. Sadly, the magnificent airport closed in the late 1940's when its champion passed away.

The old main hangar is still present, used by the city to store heavy equipment. It sits below where one would turn from crosswind to downwind while in the pattern for runway 28 at the current Le Roy airport. The outline of the field has always provided some hint of where the runways once existed...

...but, today, ghostly vestiges of the runways from former Woodward Field visibly haunted the site. This was the first time I had observed them so clearly.

Just east of the modern-day Le Roy airport is Genesee Country Village, another home to ghosts. I overflew today and studied the place through the crystal clear air. I was particularly struck by the octagonal structure below, the Hyde House. In the 1840s, Hyde was a strong proponent for the virtues of this unusually shaped dwelling, a veritable Buckminster Fuller from an earlier century.

Soon enough, it was time to leave the ghosts of the past behind and return to the airport. I had promised to ferry Ray and Porter to Williamson-Sodus (SDC) to retrieve Ray's airplane.

Returning to the modern day Le Roy airport, I was struck by the amazing color of the water trapped in the quarry north of the field.

That color is not an effect of digital processing; it really looked like that today.

The modern day Le Roy airport may lack the magnificent hangar structure and multiplicity of runways that Woodward Field boasted, but it does have one heck of an impressive swimming pool nearby!

A Bear's Odyssey, Episode 7: Dances with Precip

2011-06-17T22:13:00.009-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
17 Jun 2011	N21481	DKX (Knoxville, TN) - DWU (Ashland, KY) - PKB (Parkersburg, WV) - 5G0 (Le Roy, NY)	5.2	956.1

It was finally time to decide when to make the final leap home. Friday? Saturday? After some flight planning, we came to the conclusion that flying home Friday, June 17 would be in our best interest. Though it meant only a single night in Knoxville, and we did not want to shortchange my Dad with respect to time, the three of us were ready to return home after so much time away.

I planned to fly direct to Salem Airpark (38D) in Salem, Ohio for lunch. I learned of this destination in conversation with fellow blogger, Steve, and thought it would be nice to try someplace new. Usually, we stopped in Parkersburg, West Virginia on the way home from Knoxville. Furthermore, the forecast for west central Pennsylvania called for lower ceilings than I prefer for cross country flying. Thus, by tracking to eastern Ohio, we would avoid the need to fly low over some rather unforgiving Pennsylvanian terrain. From Salem, we would depart directly for Le Roy.

Friday morning, we awoke to poor visibility along the entire planned route. We delayed departure an hour to allow conditions to improve. Nonetheless, I brooded during the drive to the airport. Would the conditions actually improve as forecast? Once we arrived, I checked the weather and discovered that visibility and ceiling were not only solid VFR for the entire route, but better than forecast. It was time to repack all that luggage in Warrior 481's baggage compartment (above). Fortunately, we had become quite adept at this over the course of our journey.

The Bear took her goodbye picture with Carol and my Dad, the latter being notoriously difficult to catch smiling in any photograph (he comes by it naturally, my grandmother is the same way). We departed Knoxville and leveled off at 7,500 feet with the haze layer beneath us and high clouds above (about 10,000 feet). Our ground speed registered 140 knots (161 mph) - for the first time on the trip, we had a significant tailwind and would make Salem nearly forty minutes earlier than planned. Knoxville Approach handed us off to an unusually perky and chatty controller at Atlanta Center, the sky cleared, and all was right with the world.

Crossing into Kentucky, we were transferred to Indianapolis Center. I heard a lot of aircraft requesting weather deviations, but the way ahead looked clear for us. Until, "Warrior 481, there is a line of moderate precipitation extending along your route of flight about 40 miles ahead."

Uh-oh. The controller suggested that we could turn northwest (i.e., the wrong way) and pass through a hole in the line of showers. He queried another aircraft that he had just vectored through the hole and the pilot responded with, "good visibility, light chop, light precipitation". I accepted the vector and veered away from our plotted course to Salem.

As we flew on, a very dark line appeared on the horizon: the advertised rain. Looking to the northeast, along our original route of flight, the sky was significantly brighter. Staring at that dark line of precipitation ahead, I had a crisis of faith. Should I follow the controller's recommendation and continue toward the dark clouds ahead or turn back on our original course toward prettier sky?

In the end, I continued following the Center controller's advice knowing that he could see more of the big picture than I could. Given the length of the line of showers, it was entirely possible that following our original course would have simply brought us into contact with it later on. The controller offered an opportunity to pass through the line and leave it behind entirely. Nonetheless, I kept tabs on nearby airports in case we ran into anything that I did not like.

As we drew closer to the rain showers, the hole was obvious as a gap in the line of showers at least a mile wide. I could see right through it to sunshine on the other side, whereas the air on either side of the hole was obscured by moderate rain. I made a slight heading adjustment and we plunged through the hole. Light rain spattered the windscreen, but visibility remained excellent (better than what we usually get in Georgia). To the best of my knowledge, this was The Bear's first time flying through precipitation. Within minutes, we passed through the hole and emerged into bright sunshine. The unnamed Center controller in Indianapolis gave us one heck of a good steer.

This is the point where my original plan began to fall apart. We lost a lot of time flying to that hole and I needed a bathroom break. The GPS predicted another 1.5 hours to Salem and I was sure that I would not make it. While I was contemplating a pit stop, Indianapolis Center handed me off to Huntington Approach. After providing the current local altimeter, the next thing the controller in Huntington said to me was, "Warrior 481, verify you have on board weather radar."

Egad. If my bladder was not reason enough to land, that question confirmed that it was time to reassess the situation from the ground. Searching the chart, I located nearby Ashland Regional Airport in Ashland, Kentucky (above) that looked like a reasonable place for a pit stop.

We landed at Ashland under bright sunny skies. The weather radar depicted some minor cells northwest of our route of flight, but conditions were otherwise fine. This left me puzzled as to why Huntington Approach would query me about weather radar.

It was nearly noon and all three of us were getting hungry. Salem was still over an hour away, but our favorite meal stop in Parkersburg, West Virginia was only twenty five minutes to the northeast. That was an easy decision and we went with the old standby.

One benefit of the rain we flew through was that most of the grime from the deluge at McCollum Field was washed off of Warrior 481. She positively sparkled on the ramp at Ashland (above).

We spotted Parkersburg from fifteen miles away, a huge "X" carved out of the forest in the middle of nowhere. As we approached the airport from the southwest, a Purdue University Cirrus approached from the northwest. The pilot, probably a student based on his radio technique, had not yet located the airport and was blindly following his GPS toward it. I asked Kristy to help me find him and, sure enough, she spotted him a few miles off of our left wingtip. When the Purdue pilot still did not have us in sight, I offered to widen our pattern behind the faster aircraft and land after him. The tower controller approved this plan (which, frankly, made his task of separating aircraft easier) and we followed the more technologically-advanced aircraft to a smooth landing on runway 21.

We had lunch at Mary's Plane Place and The Bear had some of that yummy chunky applesauce she so enjoys. After lunch, I checked the weather again. There was no precipitation along the route, but ceilings were only 3000 to 4000 feet over western Pennsylvania and New York. I decided to fly north from Parkersburg to Salem, then turn in toward Le Roy. I was far more comfortable flying at 3000 feet over Ohio than Pennsylvania.

Aloft at 3000 feet, the ride was bumpy. We still had a tailwind. Unfortunately, we were too low to raise Indianapolis Center for flight following. Thus, the final leg home was flown "old school", relatively low and without radio contact with anyone.

Over the last few years, I have become very comfortable with cross country flight at higher altitudes while in contact with Center controllers. Despite the bumps, I thoroughly enjoyed this lower altitude cruise over lush Ohio countryside to the sound of radio silence (with rare interruptions on the Guard frequency). Kristy dozed in the back and The Bear followed her lead by napping in the airplane for the first time since we left New York the previous week.

At Salem, we turned on course for Le Roy. We flew just south of Youngstown, Ohio (above). The buildings photographed quite crisply without so much atmosphere between them and the camera lens.

We crossed into New York state just south of Jamestown. Soon after, familiar fields of windmills rolled past underneath.

From the pattern at Le Roy, The Bear exclaimed, "I see our hangar!" We were all happy to be back home.

I made a smooth landing on runway 28, graded as "at least a nine" by Darrell who was present as the sole witness of our return. The Bear exited Warrior 481 and sweetly hugged the old airplane that had carried her across the country and back.

It was quite an adventure for us all. Brown Bear was truly an unsung hero in all of this, dragged from state to state without complaining once.

After pushing the airplane back in the hangar, I found The Bear at her workbench ready to tend to any post flight maintenance needs. Other than needing an oil change and a bath, Warrior 481 was running great, however.

Instead, The Bear was placed on bug detail. An airplane can pick up a lot of bugs flying between Florida and New York.

GPS ground track for Day 7. The deviation through "the hole" is clearly shown in blue.

Reflection

Driving home, Kristy and I reflected on how this trip differed from the one six years ago. Obviously, bringing The Bear along made a huge impact on the logistics of travel and meant that Kristy spent less time participating in the flying than before.

My cross country flying habits have changed significantly. I am far more comfortable with busier towered airports than I was six years prior, which led Kristy to comment that we had visited more "upscale" airports this time around (yes, dead frogs were invoked again).

Six years ago, I had never spoken to a Center or a Bravo approach controller, let alone utilized them for flight following all the way to Florida.

I had gone from relying on Flight Service Station weather briefings by phone to self-briefing via DUAT on a computer or through my iPod. Six years ago, I was a new DUAT account holder, but did not have sufficient comfort level with the system to actually brief my own flights.

One thing that did not change: I carried paper sectional charts for the entire trip, despite the fact that I had access to them electronically on the iFly 700 GPS. I was glad to have had them, particularly when Fort Myers approach asked me to fly to the Lee County VOR. It was much easier to peruse the chart (which was already folded and open to the appropriate area) than to pan around on the touch screen GPS in an attempt to locate the VOR.

Overall, we flew 26.3 hours (The Bear only 23.0 hours) to 13 airports (10 new to us) in nine different states (NY, PA, NC, SC, GA, FL, TN, KY, WV). Fuel prices ranged from $4.55 (Punxsutawney) to $6.76 (Marathon) per gallon. I indulged in the masochistic act of tallying up the fuel bill and discovered that we paid, on average, $5.41/gal. We saw lots of sea turtles, ZERO dead frogs, and one hail storm. We experienced passage through the heart of one of the busiest Bravo airspaces in the United States, made two Lord of the Rings references, relied on VOR navigation for the first time in years, received vectors from air traffic control around bad weather for the first time, and established a new southernmost landing point in the Florida Keys.

Yet, at the end of this journey, the question foremost in my mind concerned The Bear. What was her perception of the trip? What did she understand about the distance we covered and the places we visited? Will this adventure be an important, early memory for her, or will it be lost in a jumble of early childhood experiences?

Regardless, I am glad to have had the privilege of sharing the experience with her.

GPS ground track for the trip south

GPS ground track for the trip north

A Bear's Odyssey, Episode 6: Familiar Territory

2011-06-16T20:09:00.004-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
16 Jun 2011	N21481	RYY (Kennesaw, GA) - DKX (Knoxville, TN)	1.5	950.9

The following morning dawned clear and cool. We ate breakfast at the hotel and requested transportation back to the airport. This caused some consternation because a driver was not available. One hotel staffer was drafted for this duty, but it was obvious from her expression that she was not happy about it. After more discussions among the staff, the same manager who picked us up the night before slid in behind the wheel and transported us back to McCollum Field. Though he was polite and his humor was good, I had the impression that he was glad to be done with us. I was slightly annoyed that the hotel would so grudgingly provide a service that they prominently advertised.

We dumped our luggage in the lobby of the Atlanta Executive Jet Center and I went outside to inspect the Warrior. She was dirty. The previous night's rain must have pulled every mote of filth from the Georgian air and deposited it on Warrior 481's Matterhorn White skin. I pored over the wings, the stabilator, the cowling, and cabin roof, then sighed in relief. I could detect no significant hail damage from the night before (though washing the plane two weeks later, I found some new dents in the Warrior's thirty-three year old skin). The only issue I found was some wet carpeting inside the airplane, but better to have water in the cabin than in the fuel tanks.

We departed McCollum Field bound for Knoxville Downtown Island Airport to visit with my Dad and stepmother. Above is Allatoona Lake, just north of McCollum Field.

We flew over some beautiful terrain highlighted by widely scattered cumulus.

Although we flew along the northern edge of the Smoky Mountains, the tallest peaks remained invisible because the range had created its own weather. Significant clouds were forming along the peaks as the westerly wind pushed moist air to higher elevation along the range.

Knoxville Approach provided vectors to keep us clear of traffic around McGhee Tyson Airport. I did not get a visual on our destination until only three miles south because it was obscured by a ridge.

We landed on runway 26 behind a helicopter. On every prior visit to this field, I found myself high on final approach. This time I nailed it and the landing was perfect. As we taxied for parking, The Bear waved wildly at Grandpa and Carol. In turn, Grandpa and Carol waved wildly back. After over a week of flying into unfamiliar airports, all of us found it relaxing to return someplace we had visited many times before.

GPS ground track for Day Six

A Bear's Odyssey, Episode 5: The Bear Goes Over the Top

2011-06-15T15:18:00.288-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
15 Jun 2011	N21481	FMY (Fort Myers, FL) - CTY (Cross City, FL) - PXE (Perry, GA) - RYY (Kennesaw, GA)	5.2	949.4

One week after departing New York, it was time to head north once again. The folks at Page Field's Aviation Center were terrific and allowed my father-in-law to drive his CRV directly to the airplane for easy transfer of baggage. A couple of line guys wandered over to check on us and we chatted for a moment. I commented on meeting the girl from Rochester, NY at the Marathon Airport and one of them indicated that he was from a small town in Upstate New York near Oneonta. Is anyone actually born in Florida or are they all transplants from Michigan and New York?

The plan for the day was to fly north past Tampa, turn northwest and land at Cross City, Florida (CTY) for fuel ($4.98/gal). Cross City is quite close to Perry-Foley (40J), dubbed the "Stinky Place with the Dead Frog" on our last journey because, well, it was stinky and there was a dead frog in the terminal. Kristy was quite adamant that she did not want to see any dead frogs on this trip. From there, we planned to turn northward to Perry, Georgia for lunch with Ed, a fellow pilot and aviation enthusiast who has been a long time reader of this blog going back about four years to the days when it was a hand-coded conventional website. Finally, we would stop for the night in Kennesaw, Georgia at the McCollum-Cobb County Airport (RYY). There, we would meet Gary for dinner, the best man from our wedding whom we had not seen since our 2005 aeronautical adventure through Georgia.

We had a long day ahead of us and it was made slightly longer by delaying the flight for visibility in northern Florida to improve. We launched from Page Field around 9:00 am and climbed to the top of the haze layer.

As we flew east of Tampa, the clouds below acquired a dirty amber tint and we could smell a faint trace of smoke. Something was burning below (better there than in the cockpit). The smoke accentuated the haze, dropping visibility to five-ish miles. A Cessna bound for Alabama tracked behind us for a long time at the same altitude and heading. We were a few miles apart, but it took us a while to see each other (though, in my defense, the other aircraft was in my blind spot directly aft for much of that time). Tampa Approach kept good tabs on us.

Cross City was mostly deserted when we landed, we only saw one person. He fueled Warrior 481 from the self-service pump, commenting that we were the first aircraft to land that day. The FBO building was nice and, mercifully, well air conditioned. As I paid the fuel bill, I noticed an autographed photo of Aaron Tippin on the counter. I am not into country music, but my old friend Greg is a fan of Tippin and actually met him once in a Detroit area Gold's Gym years ago. I asked about the photo and was shown a bunch of other pictures of the line guy posing with Tippin. Cross City is a popular fuel stop for aircraft inbound to Sun 'n' Fun each April and Tippin had stopped there the previous year.

The Bear was not interested in having her picture taken as we departed Cross City. It was hot and close to lunchtime and she was just not going to have anything to do with posing. So, instead, here's a picture of my wife with three legs.

But I was able to get a picture of her along with her tired Mommy once we were all back in the airplane!

En route to Georgia, I commented to Kristy, "look out the left window, do you know what that is?"

"Um, a kite?" asked Kristy.

"Perry-Foley Airport!" I enthused over the intercom. "Your favorite place!"

"Ug." Kristy was not impressed. "The last place was nicer. No dead frogs."

After six years, I was surprised at how vehemently negative she remained about her encounter with the dessicated amphibian at Perry-Foley. What I remembered from Perry-Foley was reasonable fuel prices and a hangar full of demilitarized Cobras. For me, Perry-Foley was a highly rated stop!

Georgia met all expectations established on our first summer foray through the state: it was hot and hazy. Much of the landscape rolling under our wings was either green (i.e., heavily irrigated) or dry. The bulls eye above shows some of the red soil characteristic of the area.

The agricultural morphology of the landscape was quite varied: circles, striped circles, and even...

...polka dots!

We landed at Perry-Houston (pronounced "how-stun") Airport (PXE) in light wind. Ed and his wife, Joan, were waiting for us and kindly treated us to lunch. After so many years of corresponding with Ed, it was a pleasure to finally meet him. Joan was happy that Ed had someone to talk airplanes with, even if it was just for the afternoon.

We returned to the airport, where Ed introduced me to Patsy, the airport manager. Seeing The Bear, she waxed nostalgic about her days flying a Cessna 150 with an infant seat in back. She seemed like a nice lady, so I didn't have the heart to tell her that they were all pronouncing "Houston" incorrectly.

In checking the weather radar, there were some thunderstorm cells developing west of our final destination. We would likely make it with time to spare, but dawdling was not a good idea.

Photo by Ed

Preparing to depart Perry-Houston, the Bear was in full-on silly mode. This evidently spread to all the womenfolk traveling in Warrior 481. If the above picture had a caption contest associated with it, my submission would be: "I wanna rock!"

Chris and Ed, photo by Kristy

I shook hands with Ed and we returned to the hot, bumpy Georgia atmosphere. Unfortunately, Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport (ATL) was directly between us and our destination at McCollum Field (RYY). As even the most casual air travelers know, Hartsfield is a busy place: AirNav shows 2656 operations per day. Bravo airspace protectively surrounds the airport up to 12,500 feet. I planned to circumnavigate the airspace on flight following at 6,500 feet under one of the outer rings.

Once two way communication with Atlanta Approach was achieved, the controller called out, "Warrior 481, how would you like to fly direct over the top to McCollum?"

Over the top? I was not sure what that meant. Surely he did not mean over Hartsfield's Bravo airspace at 12,500 feet? That was higher than I had ever flown Warrior 481 and I had my doubts that we could get there in a timely manner on such a hot day. I asked for clarification.

"Warrior 481, I would have you descend to 4,500 feet and provide vectors directly over Hartsfield."

To paraphrase The Bear on Jekyll Island, that would be "so cool". I accepted the invitation.

"Warrior 481, descend to 4,500 and fly heading 350. You are cleared into the Bravo."

YES!

A few minutes later, we penetrated the inner sanctum, the core Bravo airspace directly over Hartsfield. I have received Bravo clearances before, but only in the outlying portions of airspace around Detroit or Pittsburgh. For a guy who spends most of his time flying in and out of untowered airports, who once could not talk to a controller to save his own life, the thought of going straight through the middle of the Bravo made me positively giddy.

In our brief time flying over Hartsfield, we saw more landing and take off operations than Le Roy gets in a week. It was amazing.

"Look at that, Little Bear. That's one of the busiest airports in the world."

The Bear turned to Kristy, her voice pitched higher than usual with excitement. "Momma, Momma! That's THE busiest airport in the WORLD!"

And that is how The Flying Bear went over the top.

Once past Hartsfield, the approach controller adjusted our trajectory slightly to the west. Downtown Atlanta emerged from the haze to our right. We were well positioned for a left base entry to the pattern for runway 27 at McCollum.

The first thing I noticed about McCollum Field was the big freaking hole...I mean, quarry...on the north side of the runway. As we lined up on final approach, it looked like that hole must go all the way through the planet. I will be honest, it freaked me out a little.

The next thing we noticed was that, in contrast with all other controllers we heard on the trip, the McCollum tower controller actually had a southern drawl. There's nothing wrong with that, but it was a bit of a surprise after listening to the non-regional accents of the Atlanta Center controllers.

We landed lightly on the main gear and were marshaled to parking at the Atlanta Executive Jet Center. We shut the engine down at 4:45 pm that afternoon.

We had booked a room at the nearby Wingate Hotel, which advertised a free shuttle service within a five mile radius. While a great idea in theory, a practical problem emerged: the hotel staff did not quite know where to find us. The first person I talked to at the hotel was completely unaware that there was an airport two miles away. We waited over 1.5 hours for our ride and, during that time, the mother of all thunderstorms rolled over the field.

Fearing that the storm would frighten The Bear, I made a game out of pointing out lighting bolts in the sky. We made a big deal about the big ones as though we were watching a fireworks show. This worked for a time and we were well entertained. Then the rain started.

Rain fell in sideways sheets and water sluiced off of rooftops with incredible velocity. A car parked close to where we took cover was badly positioned - the rainwater sprayed from a rooftop valley and hit the car with an intensity reminiscent of a fire hose. When our luggage started getting wet, we retreated to a breezeway between buildings, an enclosed tunnel with openings at each end. Unfortunately, the tunnel began to flood. As water began to run across the floor, so too did a menagerie of fleeing insects. We fled again, this time to the cover provided by the entrance of the Elevation Chophouse. I took a moment to photograph the ramp (Warrior 481 is visible between the pillars at frame left). This photo does not do the storm justice. It was awe inspiring.

And then the hail began to fall.

I watched helplessly as chunks of ice dropped from the sky across the ramp, imagining each piece boring into the thin aluminum skin of Warrior 481's wings and control surfaces. There was nothing I could do.

It was nearly 7:00 pm when the hotel driver located us. He and I were both soaked from carrying our luggage to the van. On the one hand, I was sympathetic. On the other hand, I had a wet, frightened, and hungry four year old with me who waited one and half hours for a two mile van ride. She deserved a better evening than the one she got. We dragged ourselves into the hotel lobby, soaked and bedraggled. From a couch in the middle of the lobby, Gary grinned at us and snapped a photo. Thanks, buddy.

By 8:00, we were eating dinner at an Outback Steakhouse. The Bear was well behaved and let us get caught up with Gary.

That night, I had difficulty sleeping. What condition would I find Warrior 481 in when we returned to McCollum Field the next day?

GPS ground track for Day 5

A Bear's Odyssey, Episode 4: Marathon

2011-06-13T11:01:00.165-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
13 Jun 2011	N21481	FMY (Fort Myers, Florida) - MTH (Marathon, Florida) - FMY	3.3	944.2

Kristy and I took a morning trip to the Florida Keys. The Bear remained in Fort Myers with Granny and Granddaddy and had her own Numeroffian adventure. So for this trip, Kristy rode in the front seat and even set a frequency or two on the radio just like old times.

The only public use airports in the Keys are Marathon and Key West. Of the two, Marathon appeared to be simpler to manage and less expensive. Frankly, I just wanted to sight see over the islands and had no need to go all the way to Key West. We decided that Marathon would be "best in the long run".

This is I-75, also known as Alligator Alley, because it runs directly across the Everglades. I could not imagine a more desolate stretch of highway anywhere else this side of the Mississippi.

The Florida Everglades with the Gulf of Mexico just beyond. The water was so still that it reflected the clouds like a mirror.

Miami Center maintained a watchful eye on us as we flew over this beautiful, but desolate landscape.

My original plan was to fly to Key Largo, closest to mainland Florida, then follow the chain of islands to Marathon. Once we reached the southern tip of Florida, however, it was clear that there were so many little islands within gliding range that we diverted across more "open" water. Another good reason to do this was that President Obama was expected in Miami, shutting down the airspace in a 30 mile radius. The Temporary Flight Restriction was not scheduled to become active until 4:00 that afternoon, but I gave it a wide berth anyway in case the activation time changed while we were en route.

Starting out across the Atlantic. The chain of islands carrying US-1 to Key West can be seen at the top of frame.

We quickly reached the Keys and flew north of them within gliding distance. The water was so amazingly clear that every contour of the bottom was visible.

This Key is a little off the beaten path of US-1.

This Key had a sandy peninsula projecting northward.

At the end of that peninsula, a mammoth residence was being constructed. I suppose that having your own peninsula is the next best thing to having your own island.

Photo by Kristy

Miami Center cut us loose within a few miles of Marathon and we began a descent.

Here is Warrior 481 parked on the ramp at the Marathon Airport, our new southernmost point of landing.

We had a late second breakfast (who knew that hobbits flew airplanes?) at the Island Tiki Bar and Restaurant, complete with thatched roof for authenticity. After all, any place known for its deep fried key lime pie has to be good, right? We missed the start of lunch by five minutes, but our breakfasts were fantastic.

This was the view from our table as we ate. When we were done, Chris (or Kris?) from the Marathon Airport picked us up for the return trip. In casual conversation, we discovered that Chris (Kris?) was from a suburb of Rochester immediately south of where we live. Crazy.

Conch-Air maintains a beautiful WACO biplane named "Sweetie Pie 2" for sightseeing flights. Here it is taxiing past Warrior 481 for departure.

After watching Sweetie Pie 2 depart, we also took to the sky hoping to return "home" before any thunderstorm activity could start in Fort Myers (it never did, the place stayed dry as a bone).

Departing from Marathon, we were aligned with US-1 traveling northeast back toward mainland Florida.

Looking to the west, we could see cumulus building over the Gulf.

One buildup in particular hovered just offshore from the western tip of Florida. The clouds building from frame center toward the right were moving inland. Our objective was to miss those without flying under the gathering storm offshore, which we accomplished without any difficulty.

This was taken looking north toward the southern tip of Florida. We were still "island hopping" at this point, flying within gliding range of the several islands spanning the gap between the line of Keys along US-1 and the mainland.

Looking due west over the Gulf from mainland Florida, we saw this massive thunderhead taking shape miles away. To paraphrase Gary Larson, this is one of nature's ways of saying "do not touch".

We overflew the Ten Thousand Islands as we flew along Florida's gulf coast. Ten Thousand Islands? Is this all about Florida trying to one-up New York?

This is Marco Island. The population density looks to be a little high for my liking.

Here's a close-up of Marco (high zoom from 8500' and miles away). Yikes! Marco Island is all canal and housing.

With Naples in sight, Fort Myers approach issued an interesting set of vectors.

"Warrior 481, fly direct Lee County VOR, descend your discretion to three thousand five hundred, and cross International Airport at midfield."

Ummm... This is where some local knowledge would have helped. I had no idea where Lee County VOR was and it was not immediately obvious to me that "International Airport" was Southwest Florida International (Fort Myers, RSW). I scanned the sectional for a moment before finding the Lee County VOR on the field at RSW. In the pause I took to get my bearings, air traffic control issued the vector again and I repeated the instructions.

Once I had my bearings, the vector made a tremendous amount of sense. Page Field, northwest of International was landing on runway 23. By bringing me directly over the top of International at midfield, I crossed their runway on an orthogonal trajectory that would establish me on an extended left base for the active runway at Page. Clever.

And so, for the first time outside of a training situation, I actually needed to tune and track a VOR. And I did. And it was good.

We rode the beam over a dense sprawl of civilization, crossed International's runway at midfield, and were passed to Page Tower. The landing at Page was uneventful, though somewhat tense given that we preceded a jet whose pilot was completely unable to get a visual on us despite multiple prompts from Page Tower.

GPS ground track (green = FMY - MTH, red = MTH - FMY)

Our excursion to the Keys was some of the most enjoyable flying I had done in a long time. Calm air, gorgeous scenery, the thrill of going someplace new, and time with my wonderful wife. It does not get any better than that.

A Bear's Odyssey, Episode 3: "Because They Wanna Be Able To Play Golf"

2011-06-10T09:44:00.080-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
10 Jun 2011	N21481	09J (Jekyll Island, GA) - LCQ (Lake City, Florida) - FMY (Fort Myers, Florida)	3.1	940.9

When we returned to the Jekyll Island Airport on Friday morning, the terminal building was closed and the ramp was deserted except for the PT-19, now dozing under a canopy cover. The Bear capered about in anticipation of flying to see Granny and Granddaddy in Fort Myers.

Because there is no fuel available on Jekyll Island, we planned a short hop to Lake City Municipal Airport (LCQ) in northern Florida for gas. I chose Lake City because fuel costs were comparatively low ($5.16/gal) and flying there would put us clear of military operating areas lying along the direct route to Fort Myers. Lake City is unusual in that it has an operating control tower overlaid by nothing more than Class E airspace. Weird.

We launched to the south, flying past the wharf where we ate dinner the previous evening (above).

Our departure track took us along Jekyll Island's historic district. Above is the famous Jekyll Island Club Hotel, the island's answer to Mackinac's Grand Hotel.

We climbed to 4500 feet to clear haze. Our route took us over a corner of the Okefenokee Swamp, where a temporary flight restriction (TFR) had been established to clear space for firefighting. The TFR topped-out at 2000 feet, so we simply proceeded over the top. As we crossed the Florida state line, we could smell smoke from the fires burning below. We flew upwind of one of the more massive fires, clouds of smoke billowing northward in the light morning breeze.

Jackson ("Jax") Center declined to provide flight following that morning, so I monitored the tower frequency at Lake City as we drew near. We overhead a Grumman ahead of us talking with the tower controller, who mentioned that the "tankers" were not flying yet. No one else was on frequency and the tower was chattier than most. After further exchanges between the inbound Grumman and the controller, I realized that the "tankers" were water bombers tasked with fighting the Okefenokee wildfires.

"Lake City tower, Warrior 21481, ten northeast, we have the AWOS."

"Warrior 481, call me when you're on downwind for runway two eight."

I acknowledged, then added, "that's quite a fire you have up north of here."

"Warrior 481, glad you mentioned that. The tankers will be running soon. If you need fuel, you should expedite." I asked if we would be in anyone's way by landing. "Not yet," came the response.

And so, our visit to Lake City Municipal was brief. Bob fueled us while Kristy and The Bear made a beeline for the bathroom.

Bob and I chatted about the virtues of Cool Scoops for Cherokees while he fueled the airplane. He exhibited a carefully controlled blase' demeanor throughout much of our conversation, but I did get a surprised reaction from him when he learned we had flown there from New York.

Then I asked, "do I understand correctly that you're running water bombing operations out of here?"

Bob nodded. "Yup. They run on an eleven minute cycle back and forth. You'll want to be gone before they start. Once they get going, there's no getting in or out of here." As if on cue, some large aircraft with four radial engines apiece (DC-6s?) began starting up on the opposite side of the airport.

Bob's comment sounded like good advice. I paid my bill, settled everyone back in the airplane, and launched. The tower helpfully provided an intersection departure to hasten our exit and offered the frequency for Jax Center to get flight following.

We cruised to Fort Myers at 8,500 feet, which allowed us to clear most of the cumulus popping along the way. We diverted around the exceptions. I had to work hard to remain on flight following. Tampa Approach refused the hand-off from Jax Center and we were dropped from the system. I was able to resume advisories on a new beacon code by contacting Tampa directly.

We overflew Lakeland to remain clear of Tampa's airspace. South of Tampa, no hand-off to Miami Center was negotiated and we were dropped again. With a direct call to Miami Center, we were back in the system on yet another squawk code.

Kristy and The Bear were looking out the window and discussing how flat Florida is compared to other places we had flown on our trip.

The Bear looked at Kristy and explained authoritatively that Florida was flat "because they wanna be able to play golf."

We began descending for Fort Myers while east of Port Charlotte (above).

Unlike our previous trip to Florida, Page Field was quiet when we arrived and we were cleared for landing on runway 5 while still north of the Caloosahatchee River (above).

Photo by Kristy

The Bear watched our approach and landing at Page Field with anticipation. Granny and Granddaddy were waiting below!

Photo by Kristy

We stayed in Fort Myers with Kristy's parents for five days. We visited the great-grandparents...

Photo by Kristy

...went swimming (The Bear LOVES swimming, just look at that grin)...

...played miniature golf at a cool Medieval-themed course (the look on the proprietor's face upon seeing The Bear walk in with her own putter was priceless!)...

...visited Mote Marine in Sarasota (which was free for us thanks to a reciprocal agreement with Seneca Park Zoo in Rochester), went to the beach, visited with friends, went to a cool park... Heck, we did all kinds of stuff.


GPS ground track for Day 3

The best part was that our adventure was not even half over, yet!

A Bear's Odyssey, Episode 2: Jekyll Island

2011-06-09T22:34:00.248-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
09 Jun 2011	N21481	GMU (Greenville, SC) - 09J (Jekyll Island, GA)	2.4	937.8

The morning of June 9, we awoke refreshed and feasted on the various breakfast offerings provided by the Wingate. After a quick trip to Target for some supplies, we returned to the Greenville Downtown Airport. We were very pleased with our choices of airport and hotel, both were outstanding.

Photo by Kristy

The Bear did not want her picture taken this morning, so we settled for a lovely view of her back.

A Cirrus taxied-in next to us as we were readying for departure. The pilot was explaining to his passenger that he should not slam the door, just pull it closed and latch it. While organizing Warrior 481's cockpit, I could only smile and nod. How many first time passengers had climbed into the Warrior and ineffectually slammed the door?

The other pilot evidently saw my reaction. "See? He knows what I'm talking about." Then to me, "why is it that everyone wants to slam the airplane door, anyway?"

"Don't know," I responded. "It does seem to work for Cessna 150s."

"True!" the other pilot answered. "But you don't fly in Cessna 150s, you wear them! Where are you headed?"

"Jekyll Island."

"Oh, Jekyll Island is awesome. You'll love it. Just don't land short or long...you'll be in a swamp if you do! Take it easy!"

Photo by Kristy

Some quick thinking from Kristy resolved the first crisis of the morning. Metal seat belt buckles in the back seat of the Warrior were scorching hot and The Bear wanted no part of them. Kristy's remediation strategy involved fashioning a protective pad from a pair of The Bear's My Little Pony panties. With crisis averted, we were ready to fly.

Greenville tower negotiated radar flight following for us with Greer Approach and, before long, we were on our way. Consistent with our previous experience flying through Georgia, it was extremely hazy. Visibility was probably on the ragged edge of five miles for much of the route toward Savannah. Savannah was chosen as a waypoint because a direct flight to Jekyll Island would have routed us through some military and restricted areas. From Savannah, we could find clear passage south to Jekyll between the Atlantic coastline and the MOA.

The Bear stayed reasonably entertained on this leg of the trip by reading and coloring.

Near Savannah, we saw some interesting developments like this one.

And this one, which Google seems to think is the Savannah campus of Georgia Tech.

Control tower at Savannah / Hilton Head International Airport (SAV)

Savannah has multiple approach frequencies and we overheard the controller's half of an exchange with the pilot of a Grumman Tiger. The controller was asking the Tiger to turn several degrees east to avoid the R-3005D restricted area, which was hot (active). The controller also asked the pilot to remain at or below 3,500 feet. Both requests were made at least twice and, though we could not hear the Tiger pilot, he or she was obviously pushing back on these instructions. Finally, with exasperation evident in his voice, the controller said, "look, I'm trying to keep you out of an active military restricted area and below three thousand five hundred so that you don't shut down all the arrivals and departures at my airport." This seemed to finally convey the message; we heard no further discussion on the matter.

As we changed course over the Savannah / Hilton Head International Airport to follow the shoreline south, The Bear discovered airsick bags tucked into a seat pocket. In nine years of flying passengers, I have never made anyone sick, but I picked up a set recently rather than tempt fate any further. The Bear asked Kristy about the purpose of these strange objects.

"They're for when people get sick while flying in the airplane," Kristy explained.

"Oh. I NEVER get sick," The Bear proclaimed. At that moment, the airplane bumped as we descended into turbulent air off the coast. Kristy groaned on the intercom.

"Ooo! Bumpity bumps!" exclaimed The Bear with delight.

A new mystery: why is the White Tree of Gondor depicted along the Atlantic coast?

Canals and inlets abound along the stretch of coastline between Savannah and Jekyll Island.

Finally, our destination came into sight (above). Winds favored runway 19 and we circled the island over the ocean to enter the pattern appropriately. Although there are no remarks in the available airport information that prohibit flying over the island (like, say, Mackinac Island), we remained offshore as a courtesy to those below.

As we circled south of Jekyll Island, we had a great view of Cumberland Island, which is owned by the National Park Service.

Photo by Kristy

Looking at the Jekyll Island Airport, it was clear that the Cirrus pilot from Greenville was right. The entire airport was a small, man-made oasis of solid ground surrounded by swamp; not a good place to miss the runway. In the heat of the day, Warrior 481 settled into ground effect over hot asphalt and did not want to come down. When she did, it was with a clunk after floating halfway down the runway.

The Bear excitedly emerged from the airplane to explore the island. She was very intrigued by the idea of being completely surrounded by water. She and Kristy wandered to the terminal building while I secured the airplane and wiped the worst of the bugs off of the wings. When they returned, The Bear was very excited about the dog she had just met inside the terminal building. I explained to her that all great airports had airport dogs, so this was a good sign that we were in a great place.

Another good sign was this Ryan PT-19 based at Jekyll that is used for sightseeing tours of the island.

We stayed at the Hampton Inn, the nicest Hampton Inn I have ever set foot inside. The hotel provided free shuttle service to get us around the island, which meant that The Bear provided several minutes of entertainment to various drivers throughout the day.

We had lunch at Sea Jay's, next to the marina. Once recharged, we visited the Georgia Sea Turtle Center and its associated sea turtle rescue hospital. Most of the sea turtles in the hospital were green sea turtles or loggerhead turtles. This was perfect because one of The Bear's current favorite books is about loggerhead turtles.

Throughout the day, we also learned more about the island itself. It was once the playground for the most affluent American families of the early 20th century. In 1910, the wealthiest men in the United States met on Jekyll Island and laid the groundwork for the US banking system. Massive cottages on the island belonged to guys with highfalutin' surnames like Rockefeller, Vanderbilt, and Pulitzer.

That night, we dined on fresh, local shellfish at Latitude 31. It certainly rated as the best meal of the trip. The restaurant was on a wharf extending from the historic district of Jekyll Island where all the rich dead guys had their "cottages". As we dined on a bounty from the sea, we could look north along the shoreline to the trees bordering the south end of the airport (above). Seeing the parking lot from the window of our local Red Lobster does not hold up well in comparison.

The sun set over the harbor while we were eating dinner (no, we're not on Tatooine, the double sun effect results from photographing through double paned glass). It was a magnificent evening.

Kristy and The Bear clowned around in front of a palm tree while we waited for the shuttle to pick us up. When we returned to the hotel, the driver brought the cabin lights up slowly, eliciting a "that was so COOL!" from The Bear.

Photo by Kristy

We ran out of time to swim, but ended the evening literally cooling our heels in the Hampton Inn's pool.

GPS ground track for the day's flight

Jekyll Island was one of the major highlights of the trip. The airport, the Hampton Inn, the Georgia Sea Turtle Center, and the restaurants (those that we visited) were all top notch and the people were wonderful. Our one regret about Jekyll Island is that we did not plan for a longer stay!

A Bear's Odyssey, Episode 1: "Longest Airplane Trip Ever!"

2011-06-08T18:07:00.301-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
8 Jun 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - N35 (Punxsutawney, PA) - GEV (Jefferson, NC) - GMU (Greenville, SC)	5.6	935.4

Wanderlust set in again. In 2005, Kristy and I flew Warrior 481 from South Haven, Michigan to Fort Myers, Florida and back. At the time, it seemed like a once in a lifetime kind of venture.

But that was a lifetime ago.

As she grew older, I wanted The Bear to have that experience. With her on the threshold of being a full-fledged four-year-old, 2011 seemed to be the right time. The travails of potty training were long past, her use of a "big girl" headset was comfortable and routine, and she recently graduated to a booster-style car seat that is far more transferable between vehicles. Heck, we just removed all the child latches from the cabinets in our house. Can there be any greater indication of a responsible child than that?

We picked a non-ideal day and time to leave. Kristy had to work in the morning, so we left at 1:00 in the afternoon. It was windy (see above), hot (92°F), and hazy. The plan was to fly one hour to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania for fuel; three hours to Jefferson, North Carolina for a brief rest and fuel stop; and one hour to Greenville, South Carolina for an overnight stay and dinner with friends.

In trying to commemorate The Bear's first step in her grand adventure, I asked her where we were going, anticipating "Florida" to be the response.

"On the longest airplane trip EVER!" The Bear bellowed with such great enthusiasm that Kristy and I were both cracking up when I took the photo (above). It was definitely the right attitude for the onset of such a significant journey.

We loaded the airplane, closed our car in the hangar, and climbed sluggishly into the scorching haze that had settled over Le Roy.

Our first planned stop was Punxsutawney PA (N35), inspired by information on AirNav claiming that the price of avgas was $4.55/gal. Frankly, I expected the data to be out of date. I was delighted to find the fuel dispensed from Punxsutawney's self service pump to be as inexpensive as advertised.

Photo by Kristy

Of course, Punxsutawney is best known for its oracular groundhogs that can predict winter's end, giving it the reputation as the "Weather Capital of the World."

This led to a question: what are the implications of a little Bear seeing her shadow in Punxsutawney? Experience suggests that this could forecast the pummeling of an airplane by hail in Georgia. But now I'm just getting ahead of myself.

In departing at 1:00, I broke my own rule for southbound summer flying: don't fly in the afternoon. The decision was made based on other weather and timing factors, as well as the knowledge that the most likely manifestation of afternoon storms would be isolated pop-up thunderstorms. I expected that these would be easy to spot and they were. The one pictured above was east of our route and I deviated slightly west to give it some space.

The entire time we circumnavigated this build up, the squelch on the audio panel opened and closed randomly. This phenomenon halted once we had some distance between us and the towering cumulus. I began to wonder if my audio panel was acting as a crude lightning detector.

The next build up was bigger, nastier, and directly in our path for Ashe County Airport (GEV) in Jefferson, North Carolina. Deviating to the east, we found ourselves in the shadow of the storm and passed into a dreary twilight. We had flown above the haze layer all afternoon, but needed to duck below as Ashe County came into range. As we passed into the mountains and below 5000 feet, Atlanta Center lost radar contact with us.

We found Ashe County Airport nestled in the lush rolling hills and mountains of North Carolina. The sky on the opposite side of the airport from us was nearly black. Knowing the wind to be out of the west, I announced intentions to land on runway 28. We were still north of the field and needed to circle around to the south for a proper pattern entry. As I unkeyed the microphone, I saw a bolt of lighting flash to the ground against that black backdrop. It was easily 20 miles away, but I hastily amended my intentions on the radio to the more expedient runway 10. I floated a bit -- downwind landings are like that -- but we were down and safe.

The fellow on duty helped with the fuel pump while a distant rumble of thunder rolled across the airport. Together, he and I inspected the weather radar. It showed several active thunderstorm cells that had grown in intensity over the past hour, one just southwest of Ashe County Airport and another perched due west of our planned overnight stop in Greenville, South Carolina. The funny thing about the cells was the they did not move. The radar loop showed them building in intensity, but remaining absolutely stationary. By calling the Greenville Downtown Airport ASOS, I found that the airport was still VFR without precipitation despite the storm raging just to the west.

The old timer at the airport sat back and let me ponder. He was careful to offer help without offering advice; the decision was mine. Eventually, I decided that it would make sense to proceed the remaining hour to Greenville. If the storm engulfed the airport by the time we arrived, there were several good alternatives available nearby. He nodded at this. "You'll make it," he assured me once I committed to a decision. "That storm is not going anywhere. It will have run its course by the time you arrive."

The sky was already growing lighter when we departed Ashe County (above), though the remnants of the nearby storm could still be seen. As we flew south, I had the Greenville ASOS set on one of the radios. I waited tensely to receive a broadcast with updated conditions at the airport. Finally, about 50 miles out, we heard that the skies were clear, winds were light, and visibility was 10+ miles. As we neared our destination, a ragged vestige of the thunderhead still towered over the area, but it had already extinguished itself.

Greenville Downtown Airport (GMU) underlies the Charlie airspace surrounding Greenville Spartanburg International (GSP), otherwise known as Greer. Greer Approach provides radar services to Greenville Downtown, Donaldson Center (the other towered airport in Greenville), and a few other satellite airports. I contacted Greer approach, but was denied service when the controller heard that I was still 50 miles out.

"I'll never see you that far out. Contact Asheville Approach on 124.65."

Thus began a rather confusing exchange with the Asheville Approach controller.

"Asheville Approach, Warrior 21481, six thousand five hundred, fifty miles north of Greenville, VFR to Greenville Downtown airport. We have the Greenville ASOS."

"Warrior 21481, Asheville Approach, which Greenville? South Carolina or Tennessee?"

My fault; I lacked the local knowledge to realize my radio call was ambiguous.

"Greenville South Carolina," I responded.

Asheville issued a squawk code, verified radar contact, and reminded us to remain VFR. It was quiet on frequency for some minutes afterward.

Then, some thirty miles north of our destination, Asheville called again. "Warrior 481, enter right base runway three four."

34? Greenville did not have a runway 34 and Asheville Approach would not have the authority to direct me there even if it existed. The controller must have thought we were inbound to Asheville.

I tried to clarify the situation. "Warrior 481 is inbound to Greenville Downtown Airport."

"Warrior 481, enter right base runway three four," the Asheville controller repeated firmly.

It was time for plain English. "Ok, Warrior 481 is confused. We are not landing Asheville, we are landing Greenville Downtown Airport."

The Asheville controller was clearly annoyed with me. "Greenville?! Hmmm...stand by." Then, moments later, "Warrior 481, contact Greer approach on 118.8 and have a nice day."

I still have no idea how this exchange broke down so completely.

Greer directed us in through their airspace without any issues. Winds were calm and the tower at Greenville gave us our choice of runway. I chose 19 so that I could make a straight-in approach and be well positioned for an easy right turn onto the tower-side ramp.

Though we were late (it was close to 8:00 pm), the rest of the evening proceeded as well as we could have asked. Greenville Jet Center had a rental car waiting for us and we took The Bear to Red Robin for dinner, one of her favorites. We were met there by Eleanor, Randy, and Caroline - coworkers of mine with whom I have become friends over the years, but never actually met in person. Eleanor presented The Bear with a dry erase puzzle book that was a hit for the remainder of the trip. It was fun to finally meet everyone in person. Though we were not successful at keeping company stuff out of the conversation entirely, we managed to keep it from completely dominating.

GPS ground track for the day, the green portion clearly showing diversions around thunderstorms

At the end of the first day, we were past the halfway point to Fort Myers and well-positioned for the next leg of our trip. We stayed at the Greenville Wingate (no bed bugs, Geoff!). We originally intended to arrive in Greenville by the afternoon so that we could take The Bear to the children's museum there. Changing schedules made this impossible to accommodate, but we were very excited for the next leg of the trip to Jekyll Island, Georgia.

Exodus: The Professional Life of a Private Pilot

2011-05-08T09:25:01.494-04:00

Wax On, Wax Off

I spent the afternoon of May 7 washing and waxing Warrior 481, painstakingly scrubbing crud off the bottom of her wings and removing excess wax from around each of the many rivets dotting her airframe. No one who has pored over such a vast amount of surface area in such fine detail would ever dare call Warrior 481 a "little" airplane.

While washing the stabilator, I was confronted by this memento of a former life, a very expired Michigan registration decal affixed to the empennage. In the hours that I worked on the airplane, I thought back on the events that brought me to New York.

Once upon a time...

Before I could discern a Cessna from a Piper, before gaining familiarity with the birthplace of Jell-O, and before the arrival of a little Flying Bear ("A Brief History of Flight, Bear-Style"), Kristy and I set out from southern Indiana to start a new life in a place called Kalamazoo.

I was very excited to join the Company. Freshly emancipated from graduate school, I found myself in a rigorous yet amazingly supportive environment staffed by some of the best scientists I have ever had the privilege to know. I may have received my degree from a university, but it was my colleagues in Kalamazoo who taught me what it really meant to be a scientist. In many ways, I had not just joined a corporation, but a family. Though we all worked very hard, the Company engendered a culture of trust and respect that made everyone feel valued.

The move to Kalamazoo was one of the best choices I ever made.

October 12, 2003: Aerial photo of our first house

For the first time in our lives, Kristy and I were earning above poverty level! This led to our first home and conversion of particle board furniture, mainstay of the college student, to furnishings made of real wood.

A life changing event for me was befriending Dave, scientist and private pilot, who became my mentor in aviation. When I first moved to Kalamazoo, I remember seeing the training fleet tied down at the airport and thinking to myself that it would be amazing to learn how to fly someday. Meeting Dave built on this stray thought and convinced me that I could make it a reality. Earning a private pilot certificate ("Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad DPE?") eventually led to buying Warrior 481 ("From Renter to Owner") and spending a lot of time at my home base, the South Haven Area Regional Airport (LWA).

Happy guy: Dave at the controls of his Stearman. Photo by Gary E.

While we were based at South Haven, Dave fulfilled a long held dream of acquiring and flying a beautifully restored 1943 Stearman biplane. He still owned his Super Decathlon, but talked of selling it as keeping both was a financial stretch. But when you live in Michigan, flying something with an enclosed cockpit has a certain fundamental practicality for at least half of the year. We had all kinds of "outs" at South Haven: group fly-outs ("Torchport"), regular cook-outs ("Take Your Coworkers to the Airport Day"), you name it.

Airport life was good at South Haven.

Mergers and Acquisitions

Within one month of joining the Company, a merger with another firm was announced. This news was frightening at first, but the reality of it was that our company acquired another. The Company became larger and changed its name, but retained the outstanding culture and people that had drawn me there in the first place. Over time, we came to know the new colleagues brought into the fold, particularly those from a nearby Chicago location who specialized in the same discipline as my group.

Me and my favorite rental Cessna 150, June 29, 2003. Photo by Scott.

One day in 2002, I returned home from flying a rented Cessna 150 and my wife met me at the door. The news had just been announced. Our Company was to be acquired by UberCo (not its real name) and, some months later, the new signs went up at our campus.

In April 2003, UberCo announced the coming of a massive restructuring. I was worried. Everyone was worried. Before the day of the announcement, I rented N8082F, a Cessna 150 that I had flown during training. That airplane and I did not always get along when I was a student, but that day, we had a wonderful flight together. 82F and I took a very therapeutic cruise along Lake Michigan during which time I literally left all my worries on the ground. After our magnificent flight, I snapped a photograph of her as I left the airport. It was an afterthought, caught as I was in the glow of a positive shared experience. It is not a particularly good photograph, but it is the only photograph of 82F I have. Within minutes of my leaving the airport, 82F was wrecked by a student pilot who lost control while rolling out from a landing. Fortunately, the airplane was the only casualty. I have the dubious distinction of being the last pilot to successfully fly 82F away from the Three Rivers Airport.

April 23, 2003: N8082F after her final flight

When the UberCo announcement came at the end of April, thousands of people were affected. Most of the Research and Development being done in Kalamzoo was halted and many buildings were summarily emptied, though my division was retained. The facility in Chicago that I had come to regard as our sister site did not fare as well. It was closed entirely.

In the ensuing chaos, I was given responsibility for one of the Chicago projects. This meant that I drove to Chicago several times to meet with the exiting team and learn as much about the project as I could before all the experts were gone. While this was not a fun activity, I will always admire the professionalism displayed by that excellent group. They were very open with me on those visits and I even made new friends in the process. The scientific staff was exiting the site in groups every two weeks, effectively setting the stage for a recurring funeral party every other Friday. I was present for one of those gatherings and remember standing awkwardly by while one of my new friends comforted a weeping colleague on her last day. Although no one bore me any ill will, I was nonetheless an intruder; an undesired witness to their sorrow. "Survivor guilt" was a common problem for those of us left behind.

Over time, we were assimilated into the new organization at UberCo. There was frustration in the chaos, yes, but opportunity too. I, and many of my Kalamazoo cohort, began to interact more globally within UberCo. UberCo was a different company with a very different culture. Fortunately, much of the long-time Kalamazoo leadership remained in place locally and the atmosphere retained much of its character from the days of the Company.

In early 2005, the Powers That Be recognized that UberCo was simply too big. While they were absolutely correct, this meant that more jobs would be eliminated to transform UberCo from leviathan into a theoretically nimble competitor. This also meant more worry and more distraction, for months, while decisions on site closures were weighed behind closed doors.

On the eve of the announcement, my director was advised by one of the UberCo global leaders that we were "highly valued" and had nothing to worry about. In fact, few were worried. We were productive and extremely busy.

After all, someone had to do the work, right?

Fade to Black

On July 21, 2005 - a month after Kristy and I took our most ambitious VFR cross country trip to date ("An Aerial Road Trip to Fort Myers") - all 500 members of my division gathered in a cafeteria to learn of UberCo's reorganization. The regional head of our division stood at the front of the room and delivered a Power Point presentation on the brave new direction that UberCo had charted. Twenty minutes into the presentation, the speaker advanced to an empty black slide and subjective time halted.

The tableau is permanently imprinted in my mind. Folding chairs were packed tightly into the large space to accommodate such a large group. I would later learn that all of those chairs were tied together underneath to prevent their use as projectiles in any riot that might occur. The air was stale because the building had stood vacant for months following the 2003 UberCo downsizing. Bright summer sunshine streamed down uncomfortably through overhead skylights, flitting through eyelashes, making everything uncomfortably bright. An occasional shadow would drift across the crowd from a pair of turkey vultures circling in thermals over the building. Prophetic, that.

We stared at the black slide, suddenly anxious of the tidings heralded there.

In reality, there was no pause. The moment the black slide appeared, we were told that our division was "pulling out" of Kalamazoo. There was a subtle, collective gasp and then eerie silence; the sound of 500 people sucker-punched at once. The speaker continued, explaining to the shocked assemblage that operations would cease around the end of the year. This meant that, if we wanted our severance packages, we would have several more months of work to do before we could depart. The presentation concluded with a free box lunch for everyone. Honestly, my turkey wrap was a little dry.

From the haze of my internal emotional turmoil, the first rational thoughts to emerge were entirely financial.

Oh no, the house! Oh no, the airplane!

In precisely that order.

Opportunities

On the bright side, my group was well regarded outside of Kalamazoo and we were courted by many other organizations. My wish list was simple: I needed to find a decent job in the right location, one where my wife could happily practice her craft and I could afford to keep flying.

Simple, right?

News of the first opportunity came while I was traveling on business. I was in Washington DC with my Kalamazoo-based UberCo team meeting with a government regulatory agency. Our team (and similar project teams before ours) had struggled for a few years to get critical understanding on Agency expectations for certain aspects of our unique project. After the site closure announcement, our team of dedicated lame-duck researchers continued working hard to prepare for that meeting. This was a good thing. In keeping focus, my team did not succumb to the plummeting morale surrounding us.

We had a breakthrough with the Agency at that meeting. We showed data that caught both their attention and their enthusiasm. It was as though a switch had been flipped, the Agency's attitude reversed, and we walked away from the meeting with critical insight on how to move the project forward. We achieved a tremendous victory for UberCo that day.

We were in the van en route to the hotel, chattering excitedly about our well-earned success when someone commented that we had done a good thing for whomever in UberCo would inherit our project.

That's all it took. Everyone's protective bubble of morale simply popped.

It was moments later that I received a phone call from Jay, a friend and former Company colleague who now worked for a firm in New Jersey. He offered me a job on the spot, no interview necessary. And it wasn't just me, but a large number of my extended Kalamazoo family received similar offers. All we had to do was visit and check it out.

I cannot put into words my gratitude to Jay for calling when he did.

Other opportunities arose as well: companies located in Boston; northern California; Rochester, New York; along with offers from other UberCo sites in Michigan and Connecticut. The Kalamazoo - Battle Creek International Airport was kept rather busy that fall as my colleagues and I zipped around the country looking for just the right place to "land".

September 3, 2005: I took this photo on the day of my last flight in the Stearman

Dave and I had offers from the same small outfit in northern California that wanted to hire us as a team. Justifiably concerned about the availability of hangar space near this company, Dave made the difficult decision to sell his beloved Stearman. Like many owners of vintage aircraft, Dave viewed himself as the temporary caretaker of a timeless antique and decided that he would better serve the airplane by selling it, rather than leaving it exposed to the elements on some California airport ramp.

May 16, 2004: Decathlon and Warrior in formation on a cross-country flight

I was relieved to hear that he planned to keep the Decathlon. We fantasized about flying Warrior 481 and the Decathlon VFR across the country together in the manner described by Richard Bach, Rinker Buck, or Mariana Gosnell. What a journey of a lifetime that would have been! The places we would have visited! Seeing the vast plains giving way to the front range of the Rockies! We talked excitedly about the route we would take. Would we take a northern route west or divert south of the mountains like Bach did in Biplane?

But the reality of the situation was that, no matter how interesting the company in northern California appeared to be, the region was clearly not a good fit for Kristy's career. And that, unfortunately meant that the opportunity did not meet my criteria. Though I ended my negotiations with that company, Dave decided to go without me.

"Are you Crazy?"

Warrior 481 inside my first hangar in South Haven, September 11, 2004.

With one opportunity eliminated, I began calling airports in eastern Michigan, Connecticut, New Jersey, and New York. I was on a quest to find a region where I could still afford to fly. One aspect of this was availability of hangar space. For context, I was spoiled. My hangar in South Haven had a paved floor, electrically operated overhead bifold door, interior lighting, and rent of ~ $110/month. Warrior 481 had new paint and I wanted it to live in a hangar if at all possible. It did not occur to me that hangar rent in other places would be so exorbitant, but phone research quickly brought an end to my naivete.

Yes, there was reasonable hangar space available on the other side of Michigan. Check.

When I called an airport in Connecticut (there aren't many), the voice on the other end of the phone was disinterestedly surly. "Nope, no space," said the fellow with a Long Island accent. When I asked about the waiting list, "long" was his only response. That guy was not clamoring for my business.

Then I called some airports in New Jersey. Most places estimated five year waiting lists and hangar rents were about $500 a month if I didn't mind a dirt floor, more if I wanted my airplane sitting on something exotic like pavement. One of the airport managers I talked to was quite friendly and I was amused by her assessment of my situation:

"Where are you coming from?" she asked me.

"Southwest Michigan, right off of Lake Michigan."

"Oh! My husband and I have a cabin on Lake Michigan," she responded excitedly. Then there was a pause. "You live near Lake Michigan and you want to move HERE? Are you crazy?"

Evidently.

Finally, I called four satellite airports around Rochester, NY. One had no space and two others had space in common hangars. Lastly, I called Ray at the Le Roy airport (5G0) who told me that he had just completed brand new T-hangars with concrete floors, electric bifold doors, and interior lighting. There were two hangars still available, $245/month. Steep compared to South Haven, a bargain compared to anywhere I called in New Jersey. Ray and I took an immediate liking to each other and that first phone call lasted over an hour.

That night, I commented to Kristy, "I don't know about the rest of us, but Warrior 481 wants to go to Rochester."

A Bump in the Road
(and some actual flying!)

All factors considered (the job, opportunities for Kristy, cost and standard of living, etc.) Rochester compared very favorably. The east side of Michigan also looked reasonable, but I had concerns about the long term viability of the UberCo facility there ("fool me once, shame on you..."). Moving to eastern Michigan was the easy choice, it would have meant a return "home" for both of us.

In the end, we decided on Rochester, NY. All I needed was an official offer from the company in New York to finalize a decision. On a Friday night in October, at 5:00 in the afternoon, I received a phone call that derailed everything. The company in Rochester decided that they were already staffed adequately in my area of expertise and were not going to extend an offer. On the following Monday, my offer on the east side of Michigan would expire. This meant that Kristy and I had some thinking to do over the weekend.

That weekend, Kristy and I flew Warrior 481 north along the beautiful sandy shoreline of Lake Michigan to Ludington. It was a breezy, warm fall day in early October. I had previously arranged to borrow the crew car, which we drove to House of Flavors. The lunch fare was typical greasy spoon, but the homemade ice cream was truly outstanding.

Lighthouse on the north pierhead at Ludington. Photographed July 10, 2005.

After lunch, we drove further west, parked at the beach, and walked the long pier out to the lighthouse. A brisk wind off the lake had chased most people off the pier, but it was warm in the sun. We seated ourselves against the black base of the lighthouse, our backs absorbing the accumulated solar warmth, and stared out across the seemingly infinite expanse of Lake Michigan. We had a long talk about what to do and where to go. We weighed the pros and cons of each opportunity: distance from family, housing, job opportunities, and, of course, affordable flying. After a while, we reached a conclusion, then sat longer at the base of the lighthouse in companionable silence.

I would stay with UberCo and we would move to the east side of Michigan.

The following Monday was a whirlwind, beginning with a phone call made by my direct supervisor urging me not to accept any offers until the end of the day. What happened next is a complete story unto itself, but at the end of the day, the decision makers in Rochester reversed their verdict and extended a verbal offer to join the company there. A written offer was already on its way.

Figuratively speaking, I let go of one trapeze and reached for the next. The first thing I did was tell Kristy. The next thing I did was call Ray to secure a hangar at Le Roy.

Many of my favorite Kalamazoo colleagues joined me in a mass migration to Rochester. To suggest that there might have been some group-think at work would be an understatement. If you have to leave a cherished home, I have come to the conclusion that it is best to simply bring your friends with you.

Last Shoreline Flight

The South Haven Lighthouse, photographed March 3, 2005.

In preparation for the move to Rochester, Warrior 481 and I flew a last nostalgic flight along Lake Michigan's magnificent shoreline. Returning to South Haven, we circled the little red lighthouse at the end of the pier one last time and set up for landing on the grass runway. From downwind, I could see that Dave and his wife were outside the Decathlon hangar.

Once Warrior 481 was safely back in the hangar, I wandered over to say hello.

I discovered that Dave was packing.

"What's going on?' I asked him.

"Selling the Decathlon. The guy's gonna be here tomorrow to pick it up, just cleaning out the hangar." His response was uncharacteristically brusque.

August 2002, Kristy and I with the Decathlon after one of her first flights. Photo by Dave.

My heart leapt into my throat. I could not imagine Dave without an airplane.

"What?! I thought you were keeping it?"

Dave responded without looking at me, continuing to load boxes of airplane supplies into his truck. He explained that he did not foresee getting any hangar space in California and could not bring himself to leave a fabric covered airplane exposed to the elements.

"Aren't you at least going to fly it one last time?" I asked.

"Nope."

The conversation finished awkwardly. I wished them goodnight and withdrew to my own hangar. Like Dave, I gathered all my tools, disassembled my workbench, and loaded everything into the car. My next trip to the airport was the weekend after Thanksgiving when I ferried Warrior 481 to her new home in New York ("Making an Impression").

Driving home in the dark, the contents of my hangar -- of my life at South Haven -- palpably weighed on my thoughts. I brooded. The notion of Dave without an airplane was upsetting to me on a fundamental level because it was Dave's passion for flight that first ignited my own.

The lines painted down the center of M-43 may have blurred a time or two before I made it home that evening. Sometimes, it's the seemingly tangential issues that are most affecting.

Exodus

Our building began to empty in the fall. As with the site in Chicago, groups of people were terminated in pre-planned waves every other Friday. Experiencing the process first hand certainly cured any lingering survivor guilt I held from two years prior.

July 25, 2004: One of the Company's Kalamazoo campuses

Throughout this process, UberCo was tearing down some of the underutilized buildings. Because many of them were connected to structures that would survive, buildings were excised from the campus with near surgical precision. One of my coworkers described standing at street level, looking up into a seventh floor laboratory that he had occupied for decades. As the building was sheared away one bit at a time, his former lab became visible from the outside. He shook his head in bewilderment. "The clock was still on the wall. I could read the time." If I was saddened by the closure of the site and its partial demolition, this fellow was absolutely lost.

April 28, 2006: Downtown Kalamazoo after the razing of several buildings (note the brown patches)

When it was time for other UberCo scientists to assume responsibility for my project, I made every effort to emulate the incredible example set by my Chicago friends in 2003. I spent significant time preparing the ultimate "everything you ever wanted to know and then some" project history document with hyperlinked technical references. I honestly hope it was useful.

By December, my building was mostly empty and I was one of the last to leave. My supervisor was already gone and another manager had to escort me out when I was done. My last day was December 22, 2005; something of a Christmas present. By then, I was eager to go. There was a familiar airplane and a new life waiting for me in New York.

January 22, 2006: My new neighborhood in Rochester (note the brown patch)

Our house sold in an astounding eight days and we moved out sometime between Christmas and New Year's Eve. The funny thing is that neither Kristy nor I can remember what we did or where we went for Christmas that year.

Most of our possessions went off to storage until the house in Rochester was ready. The rest moved with us to a nearby rental. The rental house felt very much like a return to a student lifestyle, lacking the amenities to which we had become accustomed (e.g., reliable heat). This led to the place being dubbed "The Crapshack", with thanks to Bart Simpson for coining the phrase.

In early January, I gave my last tours at the Air Zoo ("Goodbye, Air Zoo"), said a temporary farewell to Kristy (who remained in Kalamazoo until July), and drove to Rochester.

Hindsight

My thoughts returned to the present as I finished waxing the starboard wing. I stretched to relieve my sore back and peered at the gleaming results of my labor. That, I thought to myself, makes all the effort worth it.

Warrior 481 and I have been based in Le Roy for over five years. Though we miss flying along Lake Michigan, Upstate New York offers some spectacular scenery. Le Roy has proven to be a great home base for adventures to the east coast, flights to the Adirondacks, day trips to some excellent destinations in Pennsylvania, and occasional trips back to Michigan. As an aviator, moving to New York was the right decision.

Professionally, it was also the right choice. Within a year of my move to New York, UberCo announced the closure of my second choice, that facility on the east side of Michigan. Shortly thereafter, the company in New Jersey was swallowed by a bigger fish. Dave left that company in California after a year. I do not always seek validation for my choices, but in this case, it is plentiful.

Change is always challenging and leaving a place you love is difficult when it is not on your own terms. But within change lies opportunity. A new world of flying was opened to me by the move to New York. I have grown professionally. Kristy's career has taken a wonderful turn. A little Bear was born.

Most importantly, the entire experience in 2005 taught me that no future is assured and that radical change can occur at any moment. The day may come when I cannot fly anymore and it may come when I least expect. Until then, I plan to enjoy myself as much as I can.

Wet

2011-05-07T22:17:00.005-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
07 May 2010	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - FZY (Fulton, NY) - DSV (Dansville, NY) - 5G0	2.5	924.6

The operative word for this spring has been "wet". In April, Rochester received 5.81 inches of rain, breaking a record last set in 1929 at 5.41 inches. While flying this morning, evidence of residual water was visible everywhere.

The fields were still quite wet.

Swamps were swampier.

And the muddy Genesee river backed up behind Mt Morris Dam at the north end of Letchworth was just shy of the top. For reference, the dam is 230 feet high and 1028 ft wide. Usually, the river is just a trickle behind this monstrosity and I used to wonder why the dam was necessary at all. Now I get it. Seeing is believing.

I departed Le Roy early in the day, flew through Rochester airspace, and took a pleasure cruise along the shoreline of Lake Ontario (above, Little Sodus Bay). At least, it should have been a pleasure cruise. Moderate chop kept me on my toes most of the way, but it was so good to take wing under sunny skies that I just didn't care.

I did some touch-and-go landings at Oswego County Airport. It was a good day for it. While using runway 24, the AWOS reported wind varying from 270 to 290°, 8 to 14 knots, gusting to 22. Not terrible, but a nice little bit of exercise and the landings were all good (i.e., smooth, on center line, well controlled, and touchdown was always on the upwind wheel).

When someone says "private jet", I'll bet this is not what most people imagine. I was a little surprised that someone would leave their baby parked out on the ramp at Oswego County like this. Pretty cool toy, though.

A Brief History of Flight, Bear-Style

2011-04-30T17:33:00.136-04:00

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hours)	Total Time (hours)
30 Apr 2011	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - OYM (St Mary's, PA) - 5G0	2.2	922.1

Today, The Bear and I flew to "breakfast" at The Silver Wing in St Mary's, PA with our friends Stacey and Devon (photo by Stacey). This was The Bear's first flight of 2011. Updating her logbook, I found that she has accumulated 120.8 hours in N21481 since birth. This caused me to reflect back on some of her aeronautical milestones over the past (not quite) four years.

July 29, 2007: First flight at five weeks old (photo by Kristy). It was a short ride for The Flying Bear, only a 0.1 hour hop around the pattern. Before landing, she fell asleep.

August 31, 2007: First cross-country flight from home base, across Canada, to Kalamazoo, MI (AZO), logging 8.2 hours in the round trip ("The Flying Bear"). Photo by Kristy.

September 16, 2007: First $100 hamburger trip. We ate at The Cottage on Mirror Lake in Lake Placid, NY. Not bad for a first $100 hamburger, eh? This trip was also noteworthy as The Bear's first high altitude diaper change, with no small tip of the hat to Kristy for pulling that off (pun intended) in the back seat of the Warrior ("A Placid Journey"). Photo by Kristy.

February 16, 2008: The Bear flew to Lock Haven, PA and set a personal record for undisturbed slumber. She fell asleep en route, remained asleep through landing, loading up into the crew car, breakfast at Fox's Market House, and the ride back to the airport.

May 11, 2008: First Fly-In breakfast at the Oswego County Airport in Fulton, NY ("Spring Has Sprung").

September 19, 2008: Taken just after an in-flight dinner at 8500' somewhere over Ontario. An hour later, The Bear would experience her first (and only to date) night landing at Oakland County International in Waterford, MI ("Homeward Bound"). Photo by Kristy.

April 17-18, 2009: First long cross country flight south to Knoxville, TN to meet her grandparents ("Knoxville...Deferred"), a 10.0 hour round trip.

April 2, 2010: First flight without a diaper. This one was a quick local area flight, but dry and therefore momentous.

May 16, 2010: The Bear started earning her keep by helping to clean bugs off the airplane! ("Apple Blossom Festival Fly-In")

August 28, 2010: On The Bear's return trip to Knoxville, she replaced her trusty Peltor Junior hearing protectors with a "big girl" headset. For the first time, she could hear us, we could hear her, and a new realm of entertainment opportunities was opened ("I Hear Daddy! Hi, Daddy!").

April 30, 2011 - Today: First flight with a friend and first flight without Kristy catering to her every capricious whim (photo by Stacey).

After The Bear's triumphant return to Le Roy, my buddy Matt shook his head and commented, "you know she's going to grow up to be a fighter pilot, right?"

I suppose there are worse things. I, for one, am looking forward to this year's adventures!