Door To Nowhere

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
01 Jan 2021	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) - 9G0 (Buffalo, NY) - 4G2 (Hamburg, NY) - GVQ (Batavia, NY) - SDC	2.6	2205.1

A vaguely circular yellow smudge in the gray overcast dome of sky marked the position of an elusive New Year's Day sun. Densely packed homes on the outskirts of Buffalo, NY rotated beneath a wingtip as I turned onto downwind for runway 6 at Buffalo Airfield. I was surprised to find the airport completely embedded in a residential area.

I had not visited Buffalo Airfield (9G0) previously because it was clear that there was nothing to do there, but on a day when my sole aim was to aviate and explore, it fit the bill (#215). Although the runway markings were faded, the surfaces were in excellent condition. Except for the runway ends, all taxiway connectors along the 2,666’ runway were blocked by piles of plowed snow, forcing me to roll the full length after touchdown to exit.

I parked, brought the engine to a halt, and disembarked to explore. I found Buffalo Airfield to be a study in contrasts with good paved surfaces and a nice new administration building incongruously paired with some poorly aging structures. At some point, a newer electric bifold door had been slapped across the front of a vintage Quonset hut hangar, a ham-fisted engineering job resulting in partial obscuration of the airport name on the hangar's face.

But what truly caused me to pause and ponder my place in the universe was finding a bifold hangar door to nowhere.

While it was clearly at the edge of a concrete pad marking the outline of a long-gone structure, I could not help but ponder what would happen if I stepped through that door. Would I be invited for tea with Mr. Tumnus? Or would I journey to 1930 New York City on a mission to repair history at the expense of Joan Collins' life? What if I did get through, but lacked the requisite knowledge of ancient languages to program the gate for a return to Earth? There would be no escaping Ra and his creepy glowing eyes in that case.

To play it safe, I chose not to attempt crossing the threshold.

Still, I wondered why the orphaned door remained in place after removal of the rest of the building. The far end of the doorframe is held in place by a chain; someone put in a decisive effort to keep the door to nowhere standing.

A seven minute run through increasingly turbulent air brought me to the 2,465' runway at Hamburg, perched at the edge of a river gorge with a local road passing so close that, on final, I mistook it for a parallel taxiway. 

Why did I have such a strong urge to use the German pronunciation of Hamburg in my radio calls? To be sure, it was a day of many mysteries.

Warrior 481 at Hamburg

Landing was not the main challenge at Hamburg (#216), despite a combination of short runway and long displaced threshold. Although the runway was well-cleared, large chunks of ice frozen to the ramp surfaces created a significant prop strike hazard. After 2020, I can do without any new engine woes. I tried to kick some of the ice loose for the safety of myself and others, but only succeeded in injuring my foot. 

Hamburg Airport

I used Hamburg as an excuse to practice a short field departure; the comparatively steep deck angle required to maintain 52 knots with 25° of flap is outside my usual envelope and never feels particularly comfortable, especially in turbulence. That makes it a good thing to practice. After a fuel stop at Genesee County Airport, I returned to the Williamson-Sodus Airport where the winds were lighter and the air both warmer and calmer than around Buffalo. 

I completed the morning's exploratory jaunt with 100.7 hours on the new engine since install. It is generally recognized that a new engine is statistically most prone to failure in the first 100 hours of operation than at any other point of its operational lifetime, making this an important milestone for any new or rebuilt powerplant. While not a guarantee that all will be well from that moment on, we are at least well-poised for success. 

On this New Year's Day following the reviled year of 2020, perhaps that is also a good analogy to apply to setting expectations for 2021.

Alaska 2018: Gratuitous Beaver Shots

Caution: This post contains explicit images of seaplanes in their natural Alaskan habitat. Reader discretion is advised.

Mystique

Bush planes operating from unconventional surfaces hold an undeniable mystique for me. Of these, I have always been particularly enamored with the de Havilland Beaver. Sure, tandem two seat Super Cubs and their modern descendants like the Aviat Husky are very capable in this capacity, as are larger haulers like Cessna's 180, 206, and 208 (Caravan) models. But the Beaver is a beefy, radial-engined workhorse with character that has capably earned its mantle as a superlative bush plane. It is also a little exotic. Although I encounter the other aircraft with some regularity, I have never knowingly crossed paths with a Beaver in the Lower 48, even considering that Harrison Ford famously owns and operates one. Then again, I've never crossed paths with Harrison Ford while flying around, either. By the same argument, I suppose that makes him exotic, too.

And a Beaver on floats? Even better.

Home of the Liquid Sunshine

We spent the first two weeks of July in Alaska, a place that has fittingly become a focal point for backcountry flying. While visiting Ketchikan, I formed a hypothesis about why Beavers seem so rare in the Lower 48. Clearly, Ketchikan is their natural habitat. We saw Beavers everywhere, all of them on floats, and all of them much cooler than my airplane.

Ketchikan is squeezed between mountains and the Tongass Narrows. The only way in or out is by ship or airplane. It is an appropriate place for Beavers to gather.

In addition to its inaccessibility, Ketchikan is also notoriously wet. A "liquid sunshine gauge" on the pier already indicated 14.5 feet of rainfall by early July. The day we were there, I think they picked up another foot.

Despite the low clouds and damp conditions, float-equipped Beavers were quite active during our visit.

Versatile people-movers waiting to leap into the air.

Just look at that face; honest, sturdy, and reliable. That is a trustworthy face.

The Ketchikan International Airport (KTN, PAKT) is on Gravina Island across the Tongass Narrows from Ketchikan. A ferry is used by most of the population to reach the airport.

Though they were in the minority, we did see other aircraft models operating from the Tongass Narrows. For example, we also observed this Cessna 185 land at Ketchikan International Airport.

Not long after, an airliner planted itself at Ketchikan International. Downwind landings? Sure, why not? It's Alaska! Landing downwind is probably the least of your risks.



Ketchikan International even had a seaplane dock with...you guessed it...a Beaver in attendance. The difference in elevation between the parking apron and the runway must make taxiing between them interesting. I wonder if the taxiway has switchbacks?

(It doesn't. It's just long with a gradual slope.)

The Bear and I thoroughly enjoyed watching Beavers come and go around Ketchikan. Naturally, it would have been even more enjoyable for us to fly in one.

I had my fingers crossed for an opportunity near the end of our trip...

Launches from Le Roy

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!

Encounter with a World Traveler

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
31 Dec 2010	N21481	5G0 (LeRoy, NY) - N23 (Sidney, NY) - OIC (Norwich, NY) - 5G0	2.8	893.0

On the last day of 2010, I went exploring.  I crawled away from Le Roy under a low overcast, finally emerging in clear skies east of Rochester.  My first destination was Sidney NY, a small airport surrounded by high hills.  I parked at the full service fuel pump ($4.26/gal) nose to nose with a very nice looking Mooney.

As the line guy fueled my aircraft, another gentleman approached and offered to help move the Mooney, if needed.  Seeing that the Mooney did not need to be moved, he gestured toward Warrior 481.

"Nice looking airplane!" he said.

"Thanks," I smiled back at him. "But it's no Mooney." I indicated the airplane I surmised to be his.

"Oh, I'm just a passenger. The Mooney belongs to a friend of mine. Nice airplane, though. Fuel efficient." We made some more small talk about how I was out exploring new airports that morning and he was en route to New Jersey for a $100 hamburger with the pilot of the Mooney.

"This Mooney is a world traveler," he boasted. At my impressed expression, he quickly clarified that it was the former owner of the airplane who had flown it solo around the world. "There's a great website written by the guy who did it. You should check it out."

I captured a snapshot of the airplane with my cell phone so that I would not forget the tail number (yeah, this photo doesn't really meet my usual aesthetic standards, but a legible tail number was all I really needed).

The rest of the unseasonably warm day passed with the exploration of another airport (completely deserted), return to Le Roy, and an oil change for Warrior 481. That evening, I found the website describing N60RP's journey around the world. It's a fantastic read (no pun actually intended) - I highly recommend it:

"Reed Flies Around the World"

Happy New Year!