A Nice PARE

"I Just Flew a Super Decathlon!"

"I don't know what to do with my hands." Photo by Don.

In May of 2025, I was in need of a flight review. While I have done flight reviews in my airplane and demonstrated stalls, steep turns, and other basic maneuvers for various flight instructors over the years, my preference is to seek out new experiences, gain skills, learn from different instructors, and fly other aircraft types instead. Past examples include my first experience with a constant speed propeller in the Williamson Flying Club's former Hawk XP, earning a tailwheel endorsement in a vintage Piper J-3 Cub, or a getting a seaplane rating in a souped-up 1947 Piper PA-12S Super Cruiser on straight floats.

Enter Tango Whiskey Aviation, an aerobatic flight school with operations at the Frederick Douglass Greater Rochester Area International Airport (KROC) and the Williamson-Sodus Airport (KSDC) where we share bays in the same hangar building. I have known Tango Whiskey cofounder Don H since the days when we both based aircraft at the Le Roy Airport. Eventually, we both became Williamson Flying Club members. In a nutshell, Don is either an aviation polymath or suffers from severe ADD. (Maybe both.) He is a high energy, enthusiastic aviator who flies for NetJets to put food on the table and provides aerobatic and upset recovery training under the Tango Whiskey umbrella while instructing aspiring rotary wing pilots with BAC Helicopters owned by my mechanic Ray. He recently shared with me that he was buying a Cessna 150 from my former hangar neighbor at Sodus to teach his kids how to fly.

Tango Whiskey has a fleet of three aerobatic aircraft: an American Champion Super Decathlon (8KCAB), a Pitts S2B, and an Extra 300L. My goals for the flight review included a tailwheel refresh (it's been 7 years) and to experience a spin (because I never have). For this mission, the Super Decathlon was exactly the right airplane for the job and perhaps less of a handful than the other two. As a bonus, despite having known him for over 15 years, I looked forward to flying with Don for the first time.

Getting Cozy with a Hooker (Harness)

 

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
19 May 2025	N248MA 8KCAB	ROC (Rochester, NY) - D52 (Genseo, NY) - ROC	1.1	2978.5

I met Don at the US Airports FBO on the south side of the Greater Rochester International Airport on a beautiful spring day. Nevertheless, I was anxious about managing a 15 knot gusty crosswind for my first taildragger stick time in seven years. "This will be a piece of cake," Don said to me beforehand. "You fly so often, you're practically a professional." It was high praise, but I wondered if I could possibly deliver on those expectations in that wind.

Don assigned some conventional flight review homework (FAA's ALC-25 Flight Review Prep Guide and AOPA's Know Before You Go: Navigating Today's Airspace) that I completed the day before. We discussed that material and completed the ground portion of the review in US Airports' conference room, grabbed our headsets, and headed outside into the restless wind where the Super D was already waiting on the apron.

Me at the controls of Dave's Super Decathlon in 2003. I miss that shirt. Photo by Dave.

Climbing into the Decathlon was a full circle moment for me in that I spent many hours in the back seat of my mentor's Decathlon in the early 2000s. This time, instead of Dave sitting up front, it was me. I was rusty, but remembered the basics of buckling the Hooker five point harness.

I took in the basic instrument panel, knowledgeable with its general layout from past experience while still finding the specifics unfamiliar. Don walked me through engine start and within minutes of bringing the fuel-injected 180 horsepower Lycoming to life, we were taxiing from the 700 Ramp to the departure end of runway 25.

Compared to the J-3 Cub, forward visibility from the front seat of the Super D was excellent and there was no need to S-turn while taxiing. As with any taildragger, each rudder input required positive cancelation with opposite rudder to prevent the tail's momentum from yawing the airplane more than intended. Compared to the J-3, I found the rudder of the Decathlon to be significantly heavier, which reduced the crispness of some of my turns. When I commented on the heavy rudder, Don responded, "Yeah, you've got a barn door back there, especially compared to your Piper." Still, at least my tailwheel training with Damian in 2017 stuck well enough that my ground handling was competent.

Despite the crosswind, take-off was perfunctory. "That was all you," Don noted as we ascended into the blue. Don suggested power settings as we transitioned from climb to cruise. With only an hour of time in airplanes equipped with a blue knob prop control, I struggled a bit to remember that throttle sets manifold pressure instead of RPM the way it does in most airplanes I have flown.

After some basic maneuvers with the airplane including turns in slow flight/minimum controllable airspeed, Don coached me through some stalls. Though relatively docile, stall breaks were more abrupt and ended in a greater downward pitch than Warrior 481. My stall recoveries went well.

PAREing Back

In the ground session, we talked a lot about what causes airplanes to spin, going beyond the rote "one wing being more stalled than the other" definition that every private pilot is taught. Rather than conduct a full-on spin clinic with me, Don wanted to focus on incipient spins and how to get out of them. We discussed the PARE acronym for spin recovery popularized by instructor Rich Stowell:

Power out

Ailerons neutral

Rudder opposite the direction of the spin

Elevator forward to unload the wing

We climbed to 6,000 feet and positioned ourselves over a massive hole in the scattered cloud deck. Don had me slow the airplane to the edge of a stall, nose high, with the stall warning horn blaring. "OK, this is going to feel very wrong, but I want you to take your feet off the rudder pedals, put them flat on the floor, then give me a right turn with aileron only."

He was right. That felt incredibly wrong. 

As the airplane shuddered from turbulent air roiling over the tail from nearly stalled wings, Don goosed in some power and stomped on the left rudder. The power added energy to an already adverse scenario and top rudder pushed the left wing -- already critical -- over the edge so that it stalled hard. In what subjectively took a fraction of a second, the Decathlon dropped her left wing aggressively, smoothly rolled onto her back, and nosed straight down.

This may sound like it must have been a violent maneuver, but I perceived no sense of motion or force as the view from the windscreen rapidly transitioned from pure blue sky to nothing but farmland. Despite not feeling flung around, I appreciated the firm embrace of the Hooker harness.

"OK, recover," Don prompted from the backseat. I worked through the PARE process and returned the airplane to straight and level flight. "Well done. How much altitude did you lose?"

The altimeter now showed 5,000' and we had plummeted through the altitude of the scattered cloud layer. "One thousand feet," I reported back. It was an excellent object lesson on why stall/spin accidents at 1,000 feet in the airport traffic pattern are inevitably unrecoverable.

Slip-Slip

With the 5,000 foot long grass runway of the Geneseo Airport in sight, I pulled the power back slightly for a standard 500 foot/minute descent and set myself up for an appropriate pattern entry. From the back seat, Don chided, "It's an aerobatic airplane! Chop and drop!" So I did.

Lined up on final for runway 5, I could see that the windsock indicated a direct crosswind and that the sock was steadily and fully extended, indicating that the atmosphere was moving across the field at a minimum of fifteen knots. "Give me a three point landing," Don prompted. I accomplished the landing with a bounce and a deviation toward the downwind side of the runway. "Not bad, let's do it again." Once again noticing how heavy the rudder was, I realigned the airplane with the runway before accelerating for takeoff.

The second one was more of the same. The third time around, I decided to make a wheel landing. On short final, I established a steady descent rate and a stable sideslip to the left. "A little slip-slip! Nice!" encouraged Don. I greased the Decathlon onto the turf on the upwind main wheel, rolled along for a few moments amazed at how stable the landing felt despite the crosswind. I brought the downwind wheel to the ground and finally the tail.

From behind me, Don grabbed my shoulder and shook it. "That was awesome! That was a single main wheel landing!" It felt good. Maybe I should have stopped there because the fourth landing was not nearly as smooth.

We launched from Geneseo and I pointed in the general direction of the Rochester airport. I was disappointed in my performance at Geneseo and wished I had calmer wind for my tailwheel refresher. Once faced with the unforgiving pavement of Rochester's runway 25, I asked Don to make the landing. We bounced a couple of times and lurched to the right in the strong left crosswind.

"Not one of my best," Don conceded. For me, it was validating.

"Well, I feel better about some of my landings at Geneseo now," I added as I switched the radio to Rochester's ground frequency.

"Hey!" complained Don before keying the mic and requesting a return to US Airports. 

I taxied the Decathlon to a parking spot between the FBO building and another aircraft parked on the ramp, receiving a thumbs up from the lineman to indicate that we were in a good spot. Once the prop stopped, he came forward to chock the airplane and removed a chunk of Geneseo's turf from the right main wheel that we'd carried back to Rochester with us. He held it up for us to see with a wry expression on his face. Don only laughed. "Yeah, that happens sometimes."

Chris and Don at the end of the flight review.

Debrief

I still don't know what to do with my hands. Photo by Don.

Overall, I was pleased with my full circle moment in the Decathlon. I was discouraged by only making one good landing out of four at Geneseo, but Don was quick to point out that I was rusty on tailwheel flying (not that I had a huge base of experience to begin with), new to the Decathlon, and working in some challenging conditions. I really appreciated experiencing the incipient spin recovery -- it's not a maneuver that I can legally perform in my Warrior. (Warriors are prohibited from intentional spins.) I was able to stretch my envelope a bit and that is always a good thing. Naturally, the basic purpose of the flight was satisfied and Don signed me off for a successful completion of a flight review. And finally, it was great to finally fly with Don, who is both knowledgeable and a lot of fun.

Because the afternoon was still early and I had the entire day off, I drove to Sodus and took Warrior 481 out for a flight. Burrowing through a restless atmosphere, I was amazed at how much easier my usual steed was to fly. Despite the various atmospheric bumps and burbles, instrument panel scans revealed each needle to be pinned exactly where it needed to be.

Legendary

A sleek and stealthy military jet swooped low over the field and performed a series of maneuvers impossible for previous generation fighters. World War II warbirds grumbled fiercely through the air, including a quartet of T-6 Texans executing precise formation aerobatics while raspingly vocalizing in unison. A stock Stearman biplane, heavy and barely powered enough to get out of its own way, spun and rolled through a series of seemly physics-defying flight attitudes.

My first real airshows were Sun 'n' Fun 2005 and 2006. I was mesmerized by those experiences. Sun 'n' Fun 2006 marked the airshow debut of the F-22 Raptor with its jaw-dropping vectored thrust capabilities. All eyes were on the sky whenever the throaty chorus of the Aeroshell Aerobatic Team's World War II advanced trainers roared above. John Mohr demonstrated unnatural mastery of his Stearman, performing feats that left Dave -- my mentor and Stearman pilot -- utterly flabbergasted.

In the end, if there was anything about those airshows that left me ambivalent, it was the solo aerobatic acts flown in modern single engine piston aircraft with obscene thrust to weight ratios, flying versions of "crotch rocket" motorcycles. As I watched them whirl and tumble and blast skyward and hammerhead turn back to Earth, I was certainly impressed by the airmanship on display. But after watching multiple acts, I was not inspired. Over time, each routine exuded an almost monotonous sameness. The Aeroshell Team (now the Titan Aerobatic Team) captured my absolute attention every time I heard the distinctive guttural harmony of their vintage radial engines overhead. But I started tuning out the individual aerobatic acts after a while. Been there, done that.

Just when it seemed that the die of my opinion was cast on these types of aerobatic performers, one specific aviator caught my eye in 2010 at the Greatest Show on Turf airshow in Geneseo, NY. I paused to watch a lone aerobatic plane blasting through the ether, an all-black MX2 emblazed with advertisements from sponsor Window World, its pilot crisply pausing his multipoint rolls on each percussive beat from the Pirates of the Caribbean score. I watched this airplane execute maneuvers I had never witnessed before and was awed by the precision and poetry expressed by the pilot at the controls. I stopped in my tracks and did not tear my eyes from the sky until the nimble ship returned to Geneseo's turf. 

That pilot was Rob Holland.

Rob Holland performing at the Greatest Show on Turf in Geneseo, NY on 14 July 2012.

As a pilot, Rob lived his mantras, which included "fly it like you stole it" and "fly good, don't suck". And there was no denying that Rob flew "good".

Rob Holland taxiing in from his routine in Geneseo, NY on 14 July 2012.

I was not the only one who thought there was something special about Rob's flying. He is credited with the creation of several new aerobatic maneuvers and the list of accolades for this honorary Blue Angel is vast (from his website): 

• Thirteen-time, consecutive, U.S. National Aerobatic Champion
• Six-time, World 4-minute Freestyle Champion
• Fourteen-time, U.S. 4-minute Freestyle Champion
• 2015 World Air Games Freestyle Gold Medalist
• 2012 Art Scholl Award for Showmanship Recipient
• 2008 World Advanced Aerobatic Champion
• Ten-time U.S. Aerobatic Team Member (and five-time team captain)
• 37 Medals in International Competition (14 Gold)

Rob Holland and me, Le Roy Airport, 14 July 2011. Photo by Ed B.

Rob was not just an artist with stick and rudder, but a genuinely kindhearted, warm soul who was an approachable, articulate advocate for aviation. On July 14, 2011, I arrived at the Le Roy Airport to find Rob's one-of-a-kind MXS-RH parked on the ramp. Rob stood nearby chatting with airport owner Ray and my friend Ed. "Hey Chris!" Ed exclaimed when he saw me. "Want your picture taken with Rob Holland?" Rob just dropped in to Le Roy looking for a grassroots aviation community and he found one. He had no interest in being the celebrity or the center of attention, he just wanted to be around other pilots and swap stories. He listened more than he spoke.

The Bear with Rob Holland in Geneseo, NY on 9 July 2016.

Five years later, The Bear attended her first airshow at Geneseo. We encountered Rob with his sleek MXS-RH in the main hangar and he was only too happy to share a quick moment with us. As Rob and his custom-built airplane tumbled unbelievably in the sky over Geneseo, I think that The Bear struggled to associate those aerobatic feats with the kindly, enthusiastic pilot she met earlier that day.

Rob Holland prepares for engine start at Geneseo on 9 July 2016.

When tragedy strikes, it often does so with callous stealth. A trivial ferry flight to Langley Air Force Base on April 24, 2025 ended with a jammed control surface that extinguished the light cast by the most storied aerobatic pilot of our generation. Rob was 50 years old. The aviation community is shattered. I am heartbroken. Rob will be remembered for his talent, his aerobatic inventiveness, his genuine humanity, and his sense of humor.

"Fly good, don't suck." Words to fly by. Godspeed, Rob.

Schrodinger's Weather

Superposition of Reality

Tap-tap...tap-tap...tap-tap...tap-tap...

I cracked an eyelid just enough to peer blurrily at my watch while clicking an orange blob on its face representing a snooze button. I had awakened on a Friday morning at the end of a long and difficult week.

Technically, it was a vacation day. I reserved it for automotive maintenance that I managed to accomplish earlier than planned. I kept the vacation day scheduled because long range forecasts suggested a beautiful flying day and the Warrior had just successfully emerged from annual inspection. But I also had work to do and the last forecast I saw before going to bed was not inspiring. My plan: if the weather was as crummy as forecast, I would just go to work. If the weather was somehow better than forecast, I would fly in the morning and attend to my work in the afternoon.

With eyes closed and still on the edge of sleep, I considered how either good or dismal weather conditions might exist outside at that very moment. Until I actually checked the weather, both possibilities practically coexisted. It was like the absurd "Schrodinger's Cat" thought experiment invented to critique a quirk of quantum mechanics whereby two opposite states can mathematically coexist until observation reduces the system to one state or the other. In his hypothetical, a cat is trapped in a box containing a sealed vial of poison that will be broken open upon a random atomic decay event. Quantum mechanics holds that the cat is simultaneously alive and dead -- because both states are equally probable -- until an observer opens the box and collapses the probability function to a single reality. In this story, the imaginary cat is not a point of view character. At least Pavlov's dog ate better. 

That tapping at my wrist resumed within a few minutes and I reached for an iPad to check weather. Scattered clouds, plenty of sun, and light wind prevailed outside, conditions far superior to the previous night's forecast. In this case, the cat survived; going flying was literally a no-brainer.

Accretion Remnants

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
28 Feb 2025	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) - SDC	2.4	2960.3

Within moments of climbing over scattered clouds drifting above the Williamson Sodus Airport, I was gratified by my choice. After a blur of grey days in early 2025, direct sunlight, a crisp blue sky, and a smoothly running airplane engine were powerful antidotes to our first "real" winter in years. Over the clouds at 5,500 feet, I flew eastbound by hand along Lake Ontario through blissfully calm air.

It had been a cold winter. When The Bear and I were aloft a month prior, we noticed that ice coverage on Lake Ontario was significant. After a week of warm temperatures, that was no longer the case. Instead, the remaining ice had accumulated on the downwind end of the great lake. Resembling a French curve template that might be found on a draftsman's table, the ice formed a massive lobe sinuously projecting into Lake Ontario from its eastern shore.

Over North Sandy Pond near Sandy Creek, NY.

A dirty brown accretion of broken ice floes marked the true Lake Ontario shoreline.

Accumulated ice seemed painted on the lake's surface by hand, exhibiting a naturally occurring variance of color and texture atop the frigid water.

The lake's surface resembled the atmospheric formations of an outer solar system gas giant rendered in cold shades of white and blue, a terrestrial version of Neptune only visible to aviators.

Open water remained at the outflow of North Sandy Pond to Lake Ontario, implying flow.

I continued north toward the frozen opening to Henderson Bay.

Over a frozen Henderson Bay.

The distinctive, bifurcated Stony Island near the mouth of Henderson Bay.

This is one of the reasons that I love where I live. While winter comes with inconveniences, I am not especially bothered by the cold and I get to see the landscape thoroughly transformed from its warmer season state. Each winter's formations are unique and I love surveying them from the air.

Complex ice formations in Henderson Bay.

Seaway Impasse

Reaching the Saint Lawrence Seaway, I found that it too was choked with ice. I followed the frozen river northeast to explore the Thousand Islands.

Clayton, NY.

Washington Island, part of Clayton, NY.

Watch Island.

Rock Island and the Rock Island Lighthouse.

The Thousand Islands Bridge carries I-81 toward Canada.

Nearing Alexandria Bay, I reached a pair of famous islands. The first was Hub Island (lower left corner of frame). Also known as Just Enough Room Island, it is the smallest inhabited island in the Thousand Islands with "just enough" land to support the footprint of a small cottage. The other was Heart Island (upper right of frame), home to the magnificent Boldt Castle that we have visited previously. They were a study in opposites.

Even lacking the deciduous foliage that softens the island's features in summer, the main house is nonetheless fanciful and spectacular.

Boldt Castle's powerhouse on the eastern tip of Heart Island.

Boldt Castle on Heart Island, Alexandria Bay, NY.

Wider angle shot of Heart Island looking west-southwest along the St Lawrence.

Against the Wind

On the Lake Ontario shoreline north of North Sandy Pond.

After circling Boldt Castle, I turned back toward home, swapping a tailwind for a headwind. I was in no hurry.

North Sandy Pond.

Lake Ontario shoreline under ice.

North Sandy Pond outlet into Lake Ontario.

Little Sodus Bay near Fair Haven, NY.

Broken ice near Fair Haven, NY.

East Bay on the south shore of Lake Ontario.

Coda

Sunshine, blue sky, and a well-running airplane made for a wonderful day to go aloft and take pictures.  I rewarded myself by managing the type of landing at the Williamson Sodus Airport that I always strive to achieve. In a word, it was all just perfect. And simple. Experiences do not need to be big adventures to soothe the soul. I ended the flight grateful that I made the time to fly.