A Gift of Time

Once Upon a Time

When she was younger, The Bear and I used to go on many adventures together where it was just the two of us. Everything from flying to hiking to museums in Rochester, we spent a lot of time together. As a teenager busy with school, friends, and various musical endeavors, alone time with The Bear has become rare for me. I do not begrudge it. I understand that it is a necessary part of growing up. Still, I cannot help but reflect fondly on the days when our relationship was a more significant part of her world.

At dinner one night, I mentioned that the Father's Day fly-in pancake breakfast at the Genesee County Airport was scheduled for Sunday, June 16 and asked if anyone wanted to go with me. To my surprise and delight, The Bear volunteered to accompany me. It was the only Father's Day present I ever wanted or needed.

Bear Is My Copilot

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
16 Jun 2024	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) - GVQ (Batavia, NY) - 5G0 (Le Roy, NY) - SDC	1.5	2833.3

With The Bear flying right seat for the first time in many months, we launched from Sodus on a beautiful Sunday morning around 7:30 am. It was The Bear's first time hearing what I call the "airport rooster". Sounding so stereotypical that it could be stock audio from a Looney Tunes cartoon, that rooster's crowing can often be heard from my hangar throughout the morning. 

We departed into a smooth, clear sky with Paula and Steve behind us in Nine Four Romeo who were joining for breakfast.

Me and The Bear.

The route to Batavia takes us just south of the suburb where we live and across the city of Rochester. Actively engaged, The Bear scrutinized the ground below for familiar landmarks, grinning with delight whenever she made a connection between her aerial view and the surface map within her memory. Our ground track wiggled more than usual as we transited over the top of Rochester while calling out landmarks below to each other. I loved seeing her so engaged in the moment. In recent years, she has largely shunned the unique outside view at altitude in favor of reading a book.

Approaching Genesee County Airport from the northeast for a landing on runway 10, we found ourselves flying parallel to a Bonanza tracking the ILS-28 instrument approach with an intention of circling to land to 10. We called each other in sight and I deferred to the faster aircraft to lead us into the pattern to land.

On the ground, I discovered that the Bonanza pilot was Mike D, a local retired anesthesiologist who happens to be the roommate of my first supervisor in Kalamazoo while they were both graduate students in Wisconsin. (How's that for an unlikely connection?) The last time I saw Mike was at my FAA third class medical examination in March; he had the appointment immediately before mine. Old guys talking airplanes immediately bored The Bear, but she exercised grace and kindly patience. 

Before long, The Bear, Paula, Steve and I found ourselves enjoying a well-prepared pancake breakfast inside the Boshart Enterprises hangar where Warrior 481 underwent all of her recent avionics upgrades. It was my first time attending a pancake breakfast in Batavia in over a decade.

The Bear walks the flight line at Genesee County Airport.

After breakfast, we investigated a pair of vintage airplanes parked on the grass. The Stearman was not one that I specifically recognized, but had drawn the fascination of a group of children.

The sexy Stinson Reliant parked next to it was immediately recognizable. While I do not know where it is based, I see it annually as a featured display aircraft at Penn Yan's 4th of July pancake breakfasts. There is an undeniably romantic poetry in the Reliant's gracefully tapered wing when viewed against a crisp blue sky.

Return to Le Roy

Warrior 481 was low on fuel and, with the ongoing fuel farm rehabilitation occurring at Sodus, I decided to stop at our former home base of Le Roy for gas. If I had to buy fuel elsewhere, I might as well patronize Ray.

We touched down and parked at the fuel farm. It was only The Bear's second time back to Le Roy since we moved to the Williamson Sodus Airport in May 2013.

Taken 18 August 2012 prior to departing for the Sleeping Bear Dunes from Le Roy.

After fueling, I noted the position of Warrior 481 and was reminded of the morning in 2012 that we departed as a family from Le Roy to visit the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. I suggested an attempt to recreate a favorite photo and The Bear was game.

Twelve years later, the airport and the airplane look the same, but my Little Bear is no longer so little. Without Brown Bear to cradle in her arms, she chose the next most precious thing -- her iPhone. Kids these days...

We made another short hop from Le Roy to Sodus, returning to aerial sightseeing. The Bear handily located her school and some of the places where her cross country team routinely runs for practice.

Best Father's Day Ever

Back at Sodus, we reconnected with Paula and Steve who are in the adjacent hangar bay. As I began to spray down the leading edges of the wings to clean off the bugs, The Bear interrupted.

The Bear pitching in to clean the bugs off of Warrior 481 on 04 July 2010.

"Hey, hey! That's my job!" she said, taking the spray bottle from me and proceeding to soak down the insects smashed along the leading edges of the wings just like she used to as a small child. Working together, we completed the cleanup rapidly.

We did not embark on any kind of grand adventure with a flight to someplace new or particularly exciting, but that was not the point. The Bear's gift to me that morning was one of mature generosity. I love that she was willing to share her increasingly precious time with me for the morning and to accompany me in an activity that was of more interest to me than it was to her. As I watched my nearly adult daughter take on a cleaning task that she relished as a small child -- harkening back to when I was a much bigger part of her whole world than I am today -- I deeply appreciated her simple Father's Day gift of time.

It was the best Father's Day ever. Sometimes the simplest moments are the most precious.

A Port from the Air

Any Port in a Storm...

 

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
15 Jun 2024	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) - GKJ (Meadville, PA) - SDC	3.6	2831.8

Meadville, Pennsylvania seems to be a place that values its airport.

I have been aware of the Port Meadville Airport for many years and was puzzled that a landlocked municipality in northern Pennsylvania would be called "Port Meadville". More recently, I realized that the town is simply named "Meadville" and that "Port" is solely prepended onto the airport name. It makes perfect sense. Much as the city of Rochester's "Port of Rochester" receives and shelters ships that traverse the Great Lakes, Port Meadville is a safe haven in Meadville for air going vessels.

The Port Meadville Airport features an immaculately paved 5,000 foot long runway, fuel appropriate to kerosene guzzlers and air knockers alike, a genuinely nice terminal building with a great view of the ramp, and even infrastructure for a radio based localizer instrument approach. Aside from having one of the most inscrutable identifiers in the region (GKJ), Port Meadville is a wonderful facility.

Within the pilot community, Port Meadville is best known as the home of the $100 hot dog. (At least in the Northeast considering that Sporty's at Clermont County Airport in Ohio is much farther away.) This is due to the proximity of Eddie's Footlongs, purveyors of footlong hot dogs in Meadville since 1947. A mere five minute walk takes pilots from the airport parking apron to the start of the line at Eddie's. Based on n=2 visits, there always seems to be a line.

Mission

It was a beautiful day to fly. I had a high school graduation to attend midafternoon and knew that I could not go too far or do anything too involved. Port Meadville came to mind because, though I had been there before with Tom and Alicia while Warrior 481 was undergoing avionics upgrades, I wanted to log my own landing there. And I would need lunch. So...win-win.

Aloft at 6,500 feet, southwest bound, VFR and receiving flight following from Rochester Approach, I was nearly startled by the green of the terrain and the building cumulus south of my route. Though a few days premature according to the calendar, summer had definitely settled into Upstate New York. The trickiest part of the entire flight was providing the correct airport identifier to Rochester because it is so non-intuitive. When it doubt, it is easiest to read those identifiers right off the GNS 430W display.

ForeFlight ground track from Sodus to Port Meadville.

I hand flew to Port Meadville, enjoying the smooth air under a crisp blue dome of sky. Closer to Buffalo, the line of clouds encroached on my flight path and I deviated around it.

I crossed over Chautauqua Lake in the westernmost segment of New York as I was handed off to Buffalo Approach on 121.0. It was the former Erie Approach frequency that had been consolidated with Buffalo. (Interesting that approach control was consolidated across facilities separated by a state line). The frequency has always been memorable because I still recall a controller assigning it to me as "one two one nothin'".

Left base, runway 25, Port Meadville.

Inbound, there was a lot of chatter on the Port Meadville Airport frequency, but those aircraft had all cleared the area by the time I arrived (airport #277).

Port Meadville Airport

Seventy Seven Years

Port Meadville Airport's gate leads directly onto a residential street, though one of the first houses had a hangar within which a J3 Cub waited for its next flight. I wondered about the logistics of runway access as I walked past.

There was quite a line of people already waiting to order at Eddie's.

The hot dog stand is cash only, but an ATM is positioned next to the ordering windows for those of us so firmly ensconced in the twenty-first century that we do not regularly carry cash. For once, I already had cash in my wallet.

The local wildlife was rather bold, but I kept my footlong to myself.

Triumph and Tragedy

Back at the Port Meadville Airport, I entered the terminal building to explore.

I discovered a memorial to Meadville resident Vicki Van Meter who once held the record for the youngest pilot to fly from east to west across the United States, a feat accomplished in 1993 at the age of 11.

Given that she only lived to the age of 26, it was clear that there was much left unsaid by the memorial. Follow-up research revealed personal tragedy and how the smiling young woman in the photo struggled with depression. Her story ended prematurely from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Vicki was part of a cadre of young pilots pushing for aviation records in the 1990s, a movement that ended with the fatal crash of Jessica Dubroff in 1996. Dubroff was seven years old and attempting to gain publicity as the youngest pilot to fly across the United States on what was dubbed the "Sea to Shining Sea" flight. Flying is a mental game that goes well beyond mere mechanical manipulation of aircraft controls and such a stunt minimizes the thoughtful planning that is such a large part of being a pilot, responsibility that no seven year old is equipped to bear. Tragically, her instructor's Cessna Cardinal crashed after departing into severe weather from Cheyenne, Wyoming. The NTSB ruled the cause of the crash to be the instructor's decision to launch into poor weather conditions, putting the blame with the pilot in command exactly where it belonged.

In recognition of the massive potential for poor judgement and child endangerment in pursuit of these kinds of publicity stunts, President Bill Clinton signed the Child Pilot Safety Act into law as part of the Federal Aviation Reauthorization Act of 1996. The statute prohibits anyone who does not hold at least a private pilot certificate and a current medical certificate from manipulating the controls of an aircraft, if that individual "is attempting to set a record or engage in an aeronautical competition or aeronautical feat." Because 17 is the minim age for private pilot eligibility, the legislation sought to end publicity seeking flights made with young children at aircraft controls.

It was a curious historical cul-de-sac that I had stumbled upon. Because these events happened in the late 1990s, both well before my entry into aviation and when I was so busy as a graduate student that I largely ignored current events (except for OJ Simpson -- even in an effective media blackout, there was no escaping OJ), I was completely unaware of this story until investigating more after seeing the memorial at Port Meadville.

Room with a View

Port Meadville's terminal building features a second level that appears to have little purpose beyond granting an overhead perspective on the parking apron. As I took in the excellent view, I noted the less-than-excellent parking job made by a pilot that arrived while I was at Eddie's.

Parked next to Warrior 481 was a practically new 2022 Tecnam P2010 TDI flying behind a 170 horsepower diesel Continental CD-170 engine. Though it might appear to be a rather conventional, Cessna 172-ish strut-braced high wing airplane, the P2010 TDI boasts a 140 knot (161 mph) cruise speed while burning 5.2 gallons of jet fuel per hour with a 1300 nautical mile range. Nice!

After admiring the Tecnam, I returned to my trusty 1970s vintage magic carpet.

Right on Time

Targeting an arrival at graduation of 3:15 in the afternoon, I estimated that I needed to be airborne from Port Meadville by 12:30. I managed to get aloft a mere three minutes late. Fortunately, my dress clothes were waiting for me in the hangar so that I did not need to stop at home to change.

Port Meadville Airport photographed after departure.

To my chagrin, I found that the return flight featured just as much of a headwind as the outbound flight had. This time I flew a direct route home and, when clouds got in the way, I descended below them to hand fly in the bumps underneath.

Looking north along I-79 from Meadville toward Erie.

Chautauqua Lake with Lake Erie in the distance.

I landed at Sodus, pushed Warrior 481 back into the hangar, and meticulously cleaned the bugs from the windshield and the leading surfaces of the cowling, wings, and stabilator. I changed my clothes, fidgeting with a tie for the first time in many months, and hopped into the car with the air conditioning cranked as frosty as it would go. 

I arrived at graduation at exactly 3:15 pm. I love it when a plan comes together. What a great day to fly!

Lights of Home

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
14 April 2024	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) - 5G0 (Le Roy, NY) - IUA (Canandaigua, NY) - SDC	1.4	2800.2

There is something about the clear, calm air of dusk that always invites me aloft; sometimes for the sake of proficiency, sometimes for pure pleasure. Calm air is a balm to metal wings and soul alike. As the sun dwindles behind the horizon and mankind's artificial constellations appear twinkling below, the lights of home always reliably guide me into port.

"Monadnock is our Beacon"

Murphy Was a Meteorologist

April 26 marked a promising start of the season for the Williamson Flying Club Activities Committee -- briefly. Despite a successful evening flight to Bradford Regional Airport (KFD) for dinner, the next two planned adventures were total washouts. Although we had no pre-planned flying event in store for June 1, the day dawned beautifully across the entire Northeast. Tom, Ed, and I rectified that scheduling deficiency with an impromptu trip resulting in a great day of aviating and exploring.

Party of Three

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
01 Jun 2024	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) - BAF (Westfield, MA) - AFN (Jaffrey, NH) - RME (Rome, NY) - SDC	5.2	2825.9

Tom and Ed with their airplanes at the fuel farm at Sodus.

Our airport is embarking on a fuel farm rehabilitation project, the current phase of which means that we are down from two fuel pumps to one. Tom, Ed, and I each cycled through a quick top off of our aircraft from the remaining pump and were wheels up shortly after 10:00 am.

Sodus Bay seen on departure from the Williamson Sodus Airport.

Our goal was to fly to Westfield-Barnes Regional Airport (KBAF) in Westfield, MA. As home to the 104th Fighter Wing of the Massachusetts Air National Guard, the field is jointly utilized by military and civil aviation. However, its greatest value to Tom, Ed, and me is the on-field restaurant, Tobiko Sushi. I enjoy this place so much that I hyperbolically describe it as a purveyor of the finest sushi this side of Japan. Absurd overstatement of the facts aside, Tobiko Sushi is truly outstanding and has never let us down after multiple visits over the years.

The Syracuse Hancock International Airport bracketed by Onondaga and Oneida Lakes.

After many recent flights conducted exclusively by hand-flying Warrior 481 (including two instrument practice sessions in the last couple of weeks -- one done for legal currency, the other for proficiency), I indulged my inner sloth and programmed HAL to fly me to Massachusetts. With HAL at the helm, I found myself with more bandwidth to peer earthward and initially focused on Syracuse.

Destiny USA on the eastern end of Onondaga Lake.

A sprawling mall / entertainment complex known as Destiny USA occupies the eastern shore of Onondaga Lake. Although still sacred to the Onondaga Nation, the lake became such as cesspool of industrial waste in the latter part of the twentieth century that it was regarded as one of the most polluted lakes in the country. It has been the subject of a massive remediation effort over the past couple of decades that was largely deemed successful, but it will undoubtedly be monitored carefully for years to come.

Despite the fact that I have been through Syracuse many times on the way to other places, I have never really explored the city except through a camera lens from thousands of feet up.

Even from high above, there is no mistaking the collegiate architecture of Syracuse University. Those crisscrossing sidewalks spanning fields of green between buildings are an obvious identifier of an academic institution.

As I regarded the domed stadium below -- reputedly the largest domed stadium on any college campus as well as the largest domed stadium in the Northeast -- I was reminded of the air-supported roof of the Pontiac Silverdome (now defunct) near my home town. Interestingly, although the arena started with an inflated roof like the Silverdome, it has featured a fixed roof since 2020.

Countryside between Syracuse and Albany.

East of Syracuse, the inevitable question came. Whenever controllers see a group of aircraft all flying to a common destination, they become curious. In this case, Ed, Tom, and I were spaced a few miles apart along the same line pointing at Westfield-Barnes.

"Hey, November Four Eight One, I have a question for you," asked the Syracuse Approach controller during a lull. "What's going on at Barnes today? Is there a party or something?"

"It's at least a party of three." I responded.

"Well, that's a start!" laughed Syracuse Approach before returning to his real job of separating aircraft.

Farther east, I intervened on the behalf of a Cirrus SR-22 pilot inbound to Albany. Albany Approach and the Cirrus pilot were calling each other on the radio, but neither could hear the other's transmissions. Once I notified Approach of the Cirrus' fruitless broadcasts, two-way communication was established through me until the aircraft was close enough to Albany for pilot and controller to hear each other. As I transited the region, Approach handed me off to the next sector with a thoughtful "thanks for your help back there" in farewell.

Terrestrial Discoveries

South of Albany and over Westerlo, I happened to spy an obviously closed airport. (It is charted on the screenshot of the sectional above, but I saw the airport on the ground before noticing the closed airport icon on the chart.) Established in 1955, the Westerlo Airport was evidently closed circa 2016 after the owner passed away and his family had no interest in continuing to operate the facility. It is a sad, but familiar story. From 7,500 feet, I could not discern fine detail about the condition of the surface, but it looked like it would do in an emergency.

Crossing the Hudson River, I overflew the Port of Coeymans. Coeymans, NY was once best known for brickmaking and this port would have served to move product out of town.

Though smaller than its Great Lakes counterparts, the freighter in port most certainly reminded me of its Laker cousins.

From Albany, the Hudson River ambles south toward New York City.

Koussevitzky Music Shed at Tanglewood.

Not long after crossing into Massachusetts, this eye-catching pavilion captured my attention; the Koussevitzky Music Shed at Tanglewood. Tanglewood is the well-known estate that is the summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. The Koussevitzky structure is named for Serge Koussevitzky, a double-bassist, composer, and music publisher (including the works of Rachmaninoff and Stravinsky) who conducted the BSO from 1924 to 1949. Koussevitzky is generally credited with building the BSO into a world-class ensemble.

The things we learn just by looking out the window! (All enabled, of course, by satellite imagery overlaid on maps that facilitates identification of these places well after the flight has taken place.)

A Warm Welcome to Westfield

Every past group foray to Westfield-Barnes has resulted in an encounter with a prickly controller; seemingly a different one each time. In my case, I reached a midfield left downwind simultaneously with another Cherokee on a right midfield downwind for the same strip of pavement, runway 2. Because the other pilot reported in a moment before I did, Tower asked him to make a short approach and cleared him to land, then instructed me to extend my pattern and land after the other aircraft. I acknowledged and noted that I had the Cherokee in sight.

As I watched the other aircraft make a turning descent toward the runway numbers, I wondered if the tower was going to want to call my base as a way of sequencing us. Rather than wonder about the controller's intentions, I asked.

"You see the other airplane, right?" came the response from Tower. This technically did not answer my question, but nonetheless made it clear that the controller thought I was an idiot for asking.

Well, it wouldn't be a trip to Westfield without getting sniped at. Given the amount of military traffic at the field, I'm sure this guy complains about the transient civvy pilots over beers with his buddies. Welcome to Westfield-Barnes!

Ed's Archer, Tom's Cherokee 180, and Warrior 481 parked on the ramp.

Other aircraft parked on the ramp at Westfield-Barnes.

As we have come to expect, Tobiko Sushi delivered some excellent meals. I chose to get a pair of rolls, a "Good Good Roll" (spicy crab, shrimp tempura and cucumber topped with avocado) and the "Barnes Roll" (salmon, cream cheese and cucumber topped with spicy tuna). Both were fabulous and, as always, presented as culinary works of art.

Iron Eagles

From our table in the airport terminal, Ed was the first one to notice activity across the field on the Air National Guard Ramp.

The 104th Fighter Wing currently flies F-15s out of Westfield-Barnes, though modifications are ongoing at the airport to accommodate the more modern F-35. As we enjoyed our lunches, we could see F-15s readying for departure and realized that we were about to get a bit of a show.

Viewed through the shimmering heat of the day, the pair of fighters looked like an impressionist's take on military hardware.

I managed to catch one on its take-off roll...

...and again moments after breaking ground. When you have that much power and 9,000 feet of pavement at your disposal, who cares if the takeoff is downwind?

As we exited the FBO, one of the line crew asked about our aircraft. "I thought there was an Archer convention going on!" (Well, technically, one Archer, one Warrior, and one 180.) I have to give the crew at Atlantic-Westfield credit. Though Atlantic corporate mandates a ramp fee, the local folks have been waiving it for those arriving to patronize Tobiko. Out of two visits since Atlantic took over, I have had my fees waived both times.

Dessert Quest

Despite the prickly controllers at Westfield-Barnes, I always enjoy flying in for Tobiko. That could have been enough for the day, but I also had an itch to explore. With Westfield as a jumping off point, I looked for options in the area while planning the flight. To that end, we decided to investigate Jaffrey Airfield Silver Ranch (KAFN) east of Keene, NH. On-line comments indicate an interesting, grass-roots kind of airport with a recently rehabilitated runway and, best of all, Kimball Farm ice cream available within walking distance.

We plotted a course around an active jump zone over Orange Municipal (KORE), readied the airplanes for departure, and saddled up.

Tom left me "in the dust" as I configured my avionics prior to departure.

Behind Tom and holding short for an intersection departure on runway 33 at Alpha.

Departure from Westfield-Barnes went relatively smoothly, but in true egalitarian spirit, Tower found something to bark at both Tom and Ed about. Even though I was spared that round of animosity from the controller on departure, it meant that we all shared a common experience of Westfield Tower "giving us the business" that day. (As the teenagers on Leave it to Beaver would have put it.)

After rotating and accelerating skyward, I noticed several other F-15s parked on the north ramp of the airport. Though I was not prepared with my camera, I flew past an F-15 sitting in the shade of an open ended Quonset hut with its navigation and position lights glowing against a shadowy skin. The visual was like a scene from a movie, but only captured in mind's eye.

We followed the serpentine Connecticut River northward, ultimately the natural boundary between Vermont and New Hampshire.

Once past the drop zone at Orange Municipal, we turned direct to Jaffrey, New Hampshire. Tom was visible a few miles ahead and, every so often, the light would be just right to show Ed's airplane in the lead. Looming in the distance was the distinctive rocky peak of Mount Monadnock, the largest mountain within 30 miles in this part of the world, a rare individual peak unassociated with a range of other summits.

We were over a densely forested no man's land, a dreadful place to experience an engine failure. Just as I had this thought, a 20+ knot wind aloft made turbulent by the terrain to the north began to batter all three airplanes. The last fifteen minutes to Jaffrey were a slog through rough air.

Lined up on final approach for runway 34 at Jaffrey.

"Jaffrey traffic, blue Aeronca Champ about to back-taxi runway 34 for departure."

Already in the pattern, Ed made a position report in response, causing the Champ pilot to announce that he would hold for the landing Cherokee.

"Actually, there are three Cherokees," interjected Tom.

"Whoa!" said the Champ pilot, clearly impressed. (By what, I don't know.)

One by one, the three of us bumped through the turbulent air downwind of the local mountain. While runway 34 is the preferred calm wind runway, it was unquestionably the right choice given the northerly wind. Runway 34 has a significant upslope to it, reaching a plateau at a parking ramp on the north end of the field. Despite the appearance of a parallel taxiway, it does not provide any access to or from the runway.

Harvey was waiting for us on the parking apron in a pickup truck, directing each of us to a spot by radio. Jaffrey became my 276th unique airport.

A placard on the modestly homey office read "Monadnock is our beacon". Given the sight picture on final approach, I could only agree. In a word, Jaffrey Airfield is extremely quaint.

Harvey pointed north and instructed us to follow the ice cream cones to Kimball Farm.

We located the first in no time.

The path led down from the plateau where we parked our airplanes and turned west past (and well below) the northern end of Jaffrey's runway. Looking up at the drop off where the runway terminated, I was amused by the cones set up in lieu of runway end identifier lights (REIL). It would be a long way down for anyone who ran their airplane off of the end of that runway.

Excuse Me, Sir. Is That a Large?

Within five minutes, we reached Kimball Farm.

In addition to the ice cream that drew us there, Kimball Farm also operates a country store and a restaurant known for lobster rolls and other seafood delicacies.

Ice cream is served from a multitude of windows on the west end of the building. These windows were thronged by patrons.

Kimball Farm is very proud of the fact that they've been making ice cream for over 80 years.

I got the Caramel Cashew Chip and it was delicious. Though it may not look like it at this angle, the ice cream topping my "small" cone formed an orb roughly the size of a softball. It was a lot of ice cream. Ed and Tom wisely went with the kiddie size.

As I maneuvered out of the line with my order -- the hot sun already working to melt the precariously mounted frozen confection -- another customer stopped me. "Excuse me, sir. Is that a large?" When I indicated that it was a small, this news sent a ripple amongst the waiting customers. Was it awe? Delight? Fear? Some unholy combination of all three?

Regardless, it was delicious, even if it melted so fast that I wore more of it home than I would have preferred. In all, we agreed that Jaffrey was a great new airport to visit that day.

Shake, Rattle, and Roll

On departure, Ed and Tom taxied downhill together to the end of runway 34. Though there was a runup pad at the bottom of the hill on the approach end of the runway, I was not convinced that it was big enough to accommodate all three of us, so I remained behind to allow them to depart first.

Ed departing runway 34 at Jaffrey.

When it was my turn, I coasted the Warrior at idle along the downward sloping runway, pulled off on the runup pad, and performed my preflight checks. It was a hot day and there was a definite upslope to the runway, but Warrior 481 had no problem accelerating to takeoff speed and climbing into the air.

Aloft, Mount Monadnock hurled turbulent air at me until I flew sufficiently west that I was no longer downwind of it. Even at 8,500 feet, the air never really smoothed out as long as I was over the mountains of New Hampshire and Vermont.

Dillant/Hopkins Airport, Keene, NH (KEEN).

Just a few minutes into the flight home, I saw Dillant/Hopkins Airport in Keene, NH. I swear that the moment I saw it, my engine missed a beat.

Ski trails of the Hermitage Club along the east face of Haystack Mountain in VT.

Over Ballston Spa, NY a curious installation caught my eye. Isolated from civilization by acres of unbroken forest stood a facility that was clearly unrelated to the region's primary draw as a vacation spot.

It was the Naval Nuclear Power Training Unit (NPTU), designed to teach sailors how to operate shipboard nuclear power plants like the ones on Nimitz class aircraft carriers. I cannot help but scratch my head at its placement in this location known for spas and horse racing, but there it sits.

Pitstop

A direct route home from Jaffrey to Sodus lead us over the former Griffiss Air Force Base (KRME) in Rome, NY. Now a civil field that boasts a ridiculous 11,820 x 200 foot runway, the primary draw was $5.00/gallon aviation fuel. I still had enough fuel on board to make it home with an hour reserve (barely), but why not stop and purchase some of the cheapest fuel in Upstate New York?

Tom takes the aviator's IQ test -- can he figure out how to activate the pump at a new airport?

Tom and I made the stop and found ourselves in a line of what ultimately became five airplanes. Good news travels well, I suppose.

I picked up flight following out of Griffiss and cruised home at 3,000 feet where I experienced less of a headwind. 

"Hey, Cherokee Four Eight One, are you gonna stay at 3,000?" queried Syracuse.

"Yes, unless you need me at a different altitude." I was transitioning their Class Charlie airspace at the time and am always happy to move if I am inconveniently occupying a patch of sky needed by someone else.

"Nope, you're good," answered the controller good naturedly. "Just checkin'."

Sodus Bay.

The day ended as it began, with an aerial view of Sodus Bay and rolling along my home runway. In just over five hours of flying, we landed in three states, enjoyed some excellent sushi that was complemented wonderfully by some excellent ice cream, heard and felt the power of F-15s going airborne, and explored a new -- and rather unique -- airfield (Jaffrey, #276).

ForeFlight ground track for 01 June 2024.

It was a good day to fly.