Category: Aventura

The Aventura’s Last Trip

September 5, 2005

If you’ve read my other stories, particularly the ones at the beginning of my ultralight flying adventures, you’ll remember that my initial dream was to be able to “take it with me”… to trailer my aircraft with me when I travel around in my car. This idea tried to manifest itself as a trike, but I never was comfortable flying my trike. So, I sold it and had the immediate opportunity of owning a RANS S-12XL drop in my lap. Well, that was fun, but it was stuck in a hangar and not easily trailer-able.

Then I saw the Aventura and fell in love with it, so again I was diverted from my original goal, but I sure was having fun along the way! Flying off water is a blast!

But I finally realized when the family took a much needed vacation to Garner State Park that, if I had my wings in a trailer, I could have enjoyed flying during that vacation. To fly around that area in my Aventura, I would have first had to fly 250 miles. Then, it would be 250 miles back, and I’d have to worry about the weather grounding me.

With my original idea percolating up to the top of my mind, I realized that I needed to sell the Aventura and get a Kolb!

Selling the Aventura turned out to be easier than I thought… had it sold within 30 days. I offered to ferry the plane to the buyer and, frankly, was a little surprised when he accepted. But, that was okay because it had been a while since my last long cross-country.

As they say, timing is everything and just as I was about to execute my ferrying trip, a little nasty gal by the name of Katrina started churning into the Gulf of Mexico.

Originally, we thought she’d turn north right after it cleared the Florida peninsula, and that would blow out Georgia for a while. You probably know, though, that she continued west then eventually turned north and wiped out New Orleans and most of the Mississippi coast.

The devastating results of Katrina made my delay look truly trivial, and yet I had an obligation to fulfill. My plans changed several times as I started to learn more about where Katrina had affected the infrastructure that I depended upon. Fueling pumps need electricity, even those in self-serve airports. The irony was, the 2-4 days after the storm passed, the weather was stunning: calm winds and clear, all across the South.

Eventually, I made plans that would give me the most flexibility while ensuring a high likelihood of success at finding fuel. One element of this plan was to carry a 6-gallon can of gas, something I don’t like to do normally. But it came in handy… twice!

This long-distance ferry trip would be different from my first two in two significant ways: 1) my experience level was much higher and, 2) I had a killer GPS — the Garmin 196 — to help. (I probably never would have bought the 196 myself, but it was a thank-you gift from Rick, for ferrying his Buccaneer from Minnesota to Houston.) But lest ye think I was dependent upon the GPS, I also had detailed sectionals marked up, and I kept a constant vigil on my position, heading, landmarks, etc., as I flew along. The GPS simply made it easier and it gave me a much higher confidence level of exactly where I was.

To fully prepare for the trip, not only did I map everything out on the sectionals, but I updated the Garmin with the latest aviation data, and I loaded in the latest obstruction database. And, as another precaution, I took along my trusty Lowrance AirMap 100 as a backup GPS.

With the preparations complete, and a last check at the weather, I committed to the flight for Monday, September 5th: Labor Day. I was careful to make sure that each airport where I intended to refuel was self-serve, so that not having anyone around on the holiday would not present a problem.

The day before I left, I packed up the plane and did an extremely thorough pre-flight, washed the plane, and made sure I could just hop in and go the next morning. Monday morning, 5am, I’m up and heading for the airport. After a brief pre-flight, I take one last photo of the Aventura sitting under its T-cover.

Sunrise was officially at 7:02am; I had wheels up 8 minutes before that.

There was no wind to speak of, it was smooth as silk, and I took a quick (and blurry) look back at West Houston Airport… not enough light for the camera to focus well.

Right out of the pattern I turn East, and a moment later see on my right the football stadium for the high school my son attends.

I’m heading through “the corridor”, the narrow east-west route cut into the Class B airspaces of Houstons two largest airports.

The sun is now rising above the horizon. I usually hate to take photos out the front of the Aventura, but this sight deserved a quick shot.

It’s a rare event for me to fly through the corridor because I like to stay away from congested areas. But going around Houston would add an hour to my first leg. The nicest part of flying the corridor is the close-up look you get at the Galleria area and downtown Houston. The twisted freeways are almost clear of cars, mostly because it’s a holiday. On a normal workday, even at this time, the freeways would be busy.

…Galleria area in the distance…
…downtown Houston…
…twisted freeways…

Eventually I work my way through the corridor, hugging the northern edge in order to avoid the stadium TFR around Minute Maid Park. I start my gradual turn to the north. Off to the right is a sea of trains in the more industrial east side of Houston.

I’m less than 25 minutes into my flight and I see Lake Houston off my port side. The only time I’ve seen it from the air before is the one time my brother and I circumnavigated Houston, and when I’m on a commercial jet, doing a landing at Hobby Airport.

As I approach the lake, I realize that I’ve never really seen the dam. But since I’m almost directly over it, I get a good look. Below me is Eisenhower Park, and the outflow from the lake forms the San Jacinto River, winding away to the south.

You probably noticed in the previous 3 or 4 images that the air was very hazy. Actually, since I’ve done a little computer magic to clarify the images, you don’t see how truly hazy it was. Visibility was probably 5 miles or more, but looking straight ahead, especially when flying into the sun, looked like “white soup.”

I knew that the majority of my first leg would be over trees, and photos of trees and more trees is fairly boring. I took this shot below because of the pattern of trees. I’m assuming they were planted by a lumber company. But, to re-emphasize the horizon-to-horizon green carpet of trees I was flying over, I felt compelled to take another shot. Very few fields for emergency landings! Gulp!

The haze was bad enough, but it irked me to see someone burning trash… it certainly didn’t help.

An hour and a half into the first leg, I spot B.A. Steinhagen Lake, on the Neches River, one of our better catfishing lakes… Catches of flathead catfish over 50 pounds are common in the Neches River, just above this reservoir.

Right after Steinhagen Lake, I see the Jasper County airport off to my right.

Then, through the haze, in the distance to my left, is Toledo Bend Reservoir, created out of the Sabine River.

This is a very large lake, and I’m passing over it near the southern end.

I’ve exchanged emails with a fellow pilot who owns an Aventura and flies off this lake, but I don’t have time to stop and visit. A quick look down and I see that the long, gradually sloping beaches would make it easy to drive our amphibious craft out of the water.

I’ve now crossed over into Louisiana. With the lake still visible in the distance behind me, I spot my first fuel stop: Hart Airport, near Many, Louisiana.

It looks deserted, and it is, but the self-serve pump works well. After a quick rest room break, I’m off again, taking a last look at the airport. Total time on the ground, about 30 minutes.

FBO
Hart Airport

Right up to the point where I entered the downwind for Hart, the air had remained as smooth as ice. But as I departed for the 2nd leg of the trip, a light turbulence began. I climb a bit higher and the air became smooth again. More trees, and not many landmarks. So, other than trees, all I have to look at are my instruments and my charts.

Breaking the monotony of trees, I spot the Cane River.

Only a few minutes later, I see the much wider Red River. I always associate the Red River with Texas — it forms the Texas/Oklahoma border — so to find it in Louisiana is a little odd. Down near the “crook” of the L-shape of Louisiana, the Red River is connected to the Mississippi River via a channel, and then it’s name is changed to the Atchafalaya River.

Less than an hour later, I finally come across the mighty Mississippi River, just south of Interstate 20.

As I cross over into Mississippi, I note the barges plying the river.

The continuing haze is very noticeable in these shots. Just north of the Natchez Trace is this very large, circular irrigated field.

My next refueling stop — Williams Airport, which is just west of Jackson, MS — is now in sight, bigger than I thought it would be.

It will be nice to take a break; the turbulence has been increasing over the last 2 hours. Again, the airport looks deserted as I pull up next to the self-serve pump.

Hmmm, the pump display is blank, so I walk over to the white FBO building. The electronic door lock is not latched, the air is stuffy inside the building, and the computer terminal is off. I guess I was too numb from the flight to think it through, so I took a quick break then looked around a bit more. I eventually found a business card with a phone number, so I called it. The very nice — and apologetic — lady says they can’t pump fuel because the power is out. Oh.

I asked her where the nearest airport is that has power and can refuel me, and she tells me “Madison.” I thank her then pull out the sectionals to look for Madison. Well, there isn’t a Madison airport, but there is Campbell Airport next to a town called Madison. The sectional confirms that airport has fuel, so I decide to press on. But before I do, I want to make sure I’ll make it, so I dump my 6-gallons of emergency gas into the tank.

This map — showing my track in red —

— will show you that I wasn’t too far from Campbell, but I did want to make sure I’d get there. It was 25 minutes away, so I’d need a minimum of about 3 gallons of fuel. Without a fuel gauge, I didn’t know exactly how much I had left, but I knew my fuel burn rate, and I was keeping good track of my time. So, I knew I probably had 3 gallons left, but there was no sense in pushing it so close when I had a ready reserve of fuel.

By the way, it’s interesting to see exactly how accurate the Garmin 196 GPS can be… look at this track (in yellow)…

…as I landed at Williams [KJVW] (Raymond, MS). You can see the track as I flew over mid-field and entered the downwind, and you can even see me pull up to the self-serve pump! Pretty incredible!

You’ll notice — back on the map showing my track between the two airports — that I didn’t make a bee-line for Campbell… that’s because I was avoiding the Class C airspace around Jackson. To complicate matters, there was also a Class D airspace to avoid. It was easier to go around than deal with the controllers who could route me anywhere they wanted.

Right after I departed Williams, I got this shot out my right side of the east-west Interstate highway — I-20 — that goes into Jackson.

Then, as I approached Campbell, I took this shot out my left side, of the north-south Interstate highway — I-55.

This second photo was taken primarily because of the white monument, looking like it’s at least 60 feet high, standing by the highway. I haven’t yet been able to figure out what it is, though.

Campbell field was busy by my standards.

(Google Maps photo)

The FBO brought a fuel truck over to me for refueling and I got to chat with the fellow. He said that when Katrina passed, the winds were 70mph sustained, with gusts to 100mph! That’s a harder hit than I would have thought, this far inland. He figured they were lucky, though, since their power was only out for about 3 hours, and there were only some tree limbs to deal with.

I was thankful to get fuel — got my reserve 6-gallon can filled, too — and they offered a crew car to me so I could go get some lunch. (I can highly recommend these fellows!) After a hearty Subway sandwich, I headed back to the airport. Since the wind had picked up, and since I knew there was no way I could make the entire trip in one day, I decided to rest a bit. I found a nice spot on the sofa in the FBO and tried unsuccessfully to nap.

Eventually, I mounted my steed and was off again. It was about 4pm as I departed Campbell and flew over Barnett Reservoir. I looked back the way I came, with the yacht club in the foreground.

The air was still turbulent and on the reservoir below me were plenty of sailboats taking advantage of that northeast wind.

My family’s ancestral home is near Union, Mississippi, about 60 miles in front of me. It was pure coincidence that I was going to pass over that area. I decided to make a very minor detour (only a mile or two) to see if I could spot the Laird Cemetary where my great- and great- great- grandfathers lie. The location is very obscure and I didn’t have exact GPS coordinates but I was going to take a shot at finding it anyway.

The land immediately east of Jackson consisted of large fields among the forests.

It’s been a while since I’ve taken a “tractor shot” but since most of this trip has been over forest, and it’s on a holiday, tractors were hard to come by. But, finally, I saw one… enjoy!

At the last stop, I called my wife — as usual — and she asked if I could see much evidence of the hurricane as I passed over Mississippi. Oddly enough, I hadn’t. I noticed many trees that were knocked over, but from my altitude, it was impossible to tell the true cause. I did finally notice a couple of chicken houses, with their roofs messed up, most likely from the high winds of Katrina.

Nearing the spot where I hoped to see the Laird Cemetery from the air, I only saw this plot of land where my guess said it would be.

But, I don’t see it there. Fudge. With a quick glance to the north, where a red dirt road would take you to the town of Union, MS…

…I continued my trek toward Alabama. The headwind is getting worse all the time, as demonstrated by the smoke from this trash fire.

If you’ve look at the map and wondered about the little “jog” just west of Meridian…

…here’s why: A few minutes after my unsuccessful search for the cemetery, I noticed on my GPS, that with the increasing headwind, it was going to be uncomfortably close to my 3 hour time limit by the time I arrived at Clanton (Gragg-Wade Field), Alabama. (Please note: my “3 hour limit” does not include my 30 minute reserve… I play things very conservatively!)

Directly in my way to Clanton was the Meridian Naval Air Station airspace (the blue dashed circle in the map below). I consulted my sectional and saw that if I went around the airspace to the north and then did a bee-line for Clanton, there would be no other airports (not even small private ones) along my path. But, if I went around the south of the airspace, and then did a bee-line, there would be at least two airports almost directly under my track.

Again, being the conservative flyer I am, I decided that a slightly longer detour to the south would be safer. Shortly after my turn to the south I also decided that I didn’t want to cut it that close and so would stop and dump my 6-gallon can into the tank. A few more minutes of assessment, watching the GPS, and doing some mental calculations, I soon realized that I was now also racing the sun. So my stop would have to be fast, and the sooner the better.

As I rounded the bottom part of the Meridian NAS airspace, directly in front of me on my track was Mallard Airport (interesting coincidence, since my final destination was Mallards Landing). And, as luck would have it, the runway (7/25) was almost directly on my bearing. Shortly after I pass over I-20…

…with the town of York, Alabama in front of me, I decide to do a straight-in approach. I made several radio calls for traffic, but heard nothing. The closer I got, the more I realized that Mallard is probably a rarely used airport.

The airport was completely surrounded on all sides by tall pine trees, so I felt like I was dropping into a rectangular pan. As I was landing, I noticed that the runway was not in very good shape. Off to my left were some beat-up looking and rusty t-covers and hangars. After I landed I circled back and positioned the plane to take off. I killed the engine, hopped out, and refueled as quickly as I could.

Although the airport certainly felt deserted, there was a small pickup truck over near the t-covers with a fellow doing something. I kept my eye on him, hoping that he didn’t want to come over and talk. I simply couldn’t spare the time. A couple of minutes later, I was buckling my seat-belt, and fired up the engine. The fellow in the pickup truck drove away. I sped down the runway, lifted up and out of my pine-tree-pan. The air was still turbulent, but the sharpness of it was decreasing by the minute. It was, after all, almost 5pm. The headwind was still there, though.

I settled back down to the routine of flying, concentrating on keeping my ground speed up. From every indication, I would be landing within minutes of official sunset, 7:11pm.

Although there were still a lot of trees around, slowly I started seeing open field and ponds again, including this odd shaped pond.

Off to my left was a coal-fired power plant on the Black Warrior River.

 

It occurred to me that I could take a photo of the screen on my GPS whenever I took a photo of some interesting landmark. It would make it easier to locate later on. Here’s what my GPS screen looked like as I passed by the power plant.

You can see that my ETA was 3 minutes after sunset, so I was still trying my best to increase my ground speed. Luckily, the air got smoother and smoother so I could transition to my fast cruise of 80 mph.

Now, technically, I was equipped for night flying… I had position lights and strobes, as required. But, I just didn’t like doing it. Besides, my wife had called ahead to a motel in Clanton and they were expecting me by 7:20pm. I had plenty of fuel for the remainder of the leg, I had good air, no weather, no traffic, no obstructions, so no reason to think I wouldn’t get there when my GPS said I would.

As I got closer to Clanton, I started seeing a large number of artificial, agricultural-looking ponds.

Later I discovered that this was the heart of Alabama aquaculture and its catfish pond industry.

Soon I was passing over the Talledega National Forest, a dark, tree-filled area just before Clanton. Although the sun hadn’t yet gone down, the haze that I had been fighting all day made the sky much darker. I could just barely make out the town of Clanton in the distance. Several tall antenna were flashing their red lights at me as I threaded between them.

The airport runway was again directly on my bearing, so I decided that a straight-in approach would be better for me. I heard on the radio that someone was doing touch-n-go’s on the runway there, so I called and said I wanted to do a straight-in. I didn’t get a response. I listened carefully to see if I could time it so that I would be on final as they were taking off, but a gap in their transmission made it hard from me to tell where they were.

Through the gloom, I could now just make out the runway, so I again announced my straight-in approach. Just as I was on a 2-mile final, the other aircraft announced it was on downwind. I finally got an acknowledgment that they could hear me, so I apologized for jumping in front. “Not a problem,” the other guy said. I appreciated his professionalism.

Even without a landing light, I greased the landing… best landing all day! Whew! I was happy to be on the ground. I quickly refueled and stuffed all my gear into a duffle bag, put the cover over the Aventura and tied her down. I called my wife; she called the motel and they were on their way. They were very nice to come get me, and exceedingly friendly. I can highly recommend the Shoney’s/ Guesthouse International motel in Clanton!

After a quick dinner in the convenient Shoney’s restaurant next door, I checked the weather on the TV, then hit the sack. The next morning, I had to wait until 8am before someone was available to take me to the airport, but, beggars can’t be choosers. (There were no taxis in Clanton.) I got a much later start than I wanted, but I took a moment to take a photo of my plane in front of the FBO. (You can see the price of gas… $3.79/gallon. That was the most expensive on my route.)

Upon takeoff, I could easily see there were few places for an emergency landing, so I circled the airport…

 

…as I gained altitude. Now at about 2800 feet, I could get a good look at the surrounding countryside. I was stunned to look at the GPS and see that I had a 30 mph headwind! It was also very turbulent… not a day I’d typically like flying in. So, I started to climb to see if I could find some better air.

Ahead me were some high clouds with the sun shining through.

Again, I didn’t want to divert to get a good shot out of the side window, so this was a straight-ahead shot. The body of water to each side of me was Mitchell Lake, part of the Coosa River chain of lakes.

These lakes are impounded by the Alabama Power Company for the purpose of generating hydroelectric power.

At around 3500 feet, the air became very, very smooth and I was happy until I again looked at the GPS… I now had a 40mph headwind! Yikes! This would not do. That put me in the air for over 3.5 hours to get to Mallards Landing. I then climbed to about 5500 feet and managed to increase my ground speed to about 55 mph, but it was very, very bumpy. It took all my effort and concentration to keep it pointed in the right direction, and right-side up!

I was sorry to see the lakes fall behind me since the only thing in front of me was wilderness, tree covered wilderness.

Between me and the Georgia border, there were only three major roads. Here is an interchange on Highway 280, near Kellyton, Alabama.

And here is looking south down Hwy 280, toward Alexander City, the Tallapoosa River, and Lake Martin.

 

Here’s a shot of my instrument panel at about this time…’

…and my GPS.

My location is just north of the airport at Alexander City on the moving map display.

Just shy of the border, I see Roanoke Airport off to my left.

To my right is a rock pit, that makes it look like this might be karst country.

Finally, after crossing the Alabama/Georgia border, the landscape becomes a bit more tame. Here, just south of Peachtree City, is a very nice spread, complete with tree-lined roads leading up to the house.

A few minutes later I see some active irrigation on this large, circular field.

Off to my right, just west of Senoia, is an interesting pattern of some kind of orchard, or perhaps a future Christmas tree farm?

Because I was nearing the Atlanta airspace, I decided that 5500 feet wasn’t optimal, so I dropped down to 2500 feet. On the way down, I noticed that the layer of smooth air was still there, right around 3500 feet, but so was the 40mph headwind. At 2500 feet, the headwind was only about 25-30 mph, but it was very turbulent.

As the town of Senoia comes into view, I know I’m only about 30 minutes from my final destination.

I squint my eyes and look far ahead, but it’s just wishful thinking because it’s still too far to make out. Ten minutes later, I see Lake Horton Reservoir, and I guess that this is the lake that the new owner will be playing in with his new amphibious aircraft.

But I’m premature, for up ahead is what looks like another reservoir, but it doesn’t show up on any of my maps.

I think it’s the Towaliga River and Thomson Creek confluence. Later I’m told it’s used for drinking water and no motorboats are used on it, but the manager said a seaplane would be okay.

Finally, after over 12 hours in the air, I see my destination: Mallards Landing. I’m staring right down the runway, but I’ve forgotten which frequency they use (and it’s not on the sectional).

So, even though it’s a day when no one is likely to be flying, I do the safe and proper thing by banking off to the right…

…then doing a fly over at mid-field. As it turns out, I flew directly over his house, so he knew I had arrived!

The air was still as turbulent as ever, and even banking to turn to base and final had me nervous. I slowed to my approach speed but with the wind changing constantly, I decided to come in a little hot. With the houses near the runway, my approach was very hairy. I was all over the place, and I broke out in a sweat. Just when I thought I was going to be blown into a house, the wind eased, and I dived for the ground. A quick flare, constant adjustments to fight the rotors off the houses and trees, and I do a slight skip on the grass. I’m down… WHEW!

The buyer drove a golf cart out to meet me and I followed him to his house. His house was not directly on the runway, so I had to taxi back through at least two rows of houses. It felt very odd doing that, but it was also kind of cool. After I stopped the engine, he ran over to greet me and so do a couple of neighbors. The Aventura always draws a crowd!

I had one of the neighbors take our picture…

…and soon enough we’ve done the paperwork and we’re heading out to the airport in Atlanta. But not before I take one last picture of the hour meter: 265.3 … When I bought the plane, it was sitting right at 90, so I flew it for 175.3 hours.

Total miles covered on this trip: 809, with 12.3 hours in the air.

Am I sad that I no longer have the Aventura? Absolutely. But I’m looking forward to owning a Kolb, and the fun I’ll have trailering it around.

 

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The Aventura’s Last Trip_

September 5, 2005

If you’ve read my other stories, particularly the ones at the beginning of my ultralight flying adventures, you’ll remember that my initial dream was to be able to “take it with me”… to trailer my aircraft with me when I travel around in my car. This idea tried to manifest itself as a trike, but I never was comfortable flying my trike. So, I sold it and had the immediate opportunity of owning a RANS S-12XL drop in my lap. Well, that was fun, but it was stuck in a hangar and not easily trailer-able.

Then I saw the Aventura and fell in love with it, so again I was diverted from my original goal, but I sure was having fun along the way! Flying off water is a blast!

But I finally realized when the family took a much needed vacation to Garner State Park that, if I had my wings in a trailer, I could have enjoyed flying during that vacation. To fly around that area in my Aventura, I would have first had to fly 250 miles. Then, it would be 250 miles back, and I’d have to worry about the weather grounding me.

With my original idea percolating up to the top of my mind, I realized that I needed to sell the Aventura and get a Kolb!

Selling the Aventura turned out to be easier than I thought… had it sold within 30 days. I offered to ferry the plane to the buyer and, frankly, was a little surprised when he accepted. But, that was okay because it had been a while since my last long cross-country.

As they say, timing is everything and just as I was about to execute my ferrying trip, a little nasty gal by the name of Katrina started churning into the Gulf of Mexico.

Originally, we thought she’d turn north right after it cleared the Florida peninsula, and that would blow out Georgia for a while. You probably know, though, that she continued west then eventually turned north and wiped out New Orleans and most of the Mississippi coast.

The devastating results of Katrina made my delay look truly trivial, and yet I had an obligation to fulfill. My plans changed several times as I started to learn more about where Katrina had affected the infrastructure that I depended upon. Fueling pumps need electricity, even those in self-serve airports. The irony was, the 2-4 days after the storm passed, the weather was stunning: calm winds and clear, all across the South.

Eventually, I made plans that would give me the most flexibility while ensuring a high likelihood of success at finding fuel. One element of this plan was to carry a 6-gallon can of gas, something I don’t like to do normally. But it came in handy… twice!

This long-distance ferry trip would be different from my first two in two significant ways: 1) my experience level was much higher and, 2) I had a killer GPS — the Garmin 196 — to help. (I probably never would have bought the 196 myself, but it was a thank-you gift from Rick, for ferrying his Buccaneer from Minnesota to Houston.) But lest ye think I was dependent upon the GPS, I also had detailed sectionals marked up, and I kept a constant vigil on my position, heading, landmarks, etc., as I flew along. The GPS simply made it easier and it gave me a much higher confidence level of exactly where I was.

To fully prepare for the trip, not only did I map everything out on the sectionals, but I updated the Garmin with the latest aviation data, and I loaded in the latest obstruction database. And, as another precaution, I took along my trusty Lowrance AirMap 100 as a backup GPS.

With the preparations complete, and a last check at the weather, I committed to the flight for Monday, September 5th: Labor Day. I was careful to make sure that each airport where I intended to refuel was self-serve, so that not having anyone around on the holiday would not present a problem.

The day before I left, I packed up the plane and did an extremely thorough pre-flight, washed the plane, and made sure I could just hop in and go the next morning. Monday morning, 5am, I’m up and heading for the airport. After a brief pre-flight, I take one last photo of the Aventura sitting under its T-cover.

Sunrise was officially at 7:02am; I had wheels up 8 minutes before that.

There was no wind to speak of, it was smooth as silk, and I took a quick (and blurry) look back at West Houston Airport… not enough light for the camera to focus well.

Right out of the pattern I turn East, and a moment later see on my right the football stadium for the high school my son attends.

I’m heading through “the corridor”, the narrow east-west route cut into the Class B airspaces of Houstons two largest airports.

The sun is now rising above the horizon. I usually hate to take photos out the front of the Aventura, but this sight deserved a quick shot.

It’s a rare event for me to fly through the corridor because I like to stay away from congested areas. But going around Houston would add an hour to my first leg. The nicest part of flying the corridor is the close-up look you get at the Galleria area and downtown Houston. The twisted freeways are almost clear of cars, mostly because it’s a holiday. On a normal workday, even at this time, the freeways would be busy.

…Galleria area in the distance…
…downtown Houston…
…twisted freeways…

Eventually I work my way through the corridor, hugging the northern edge in order to avoid the stadium TFR around Minute Maid Park. I start my gradual turn to the north. Off to the right is a sea of trains in the more industrial east side of Houston.

I’m less than 25 minutes into my flight and I see Lake Houston off my port side. The only time I’ve seen it from the air before is the one time my brother and I circumnavigated Houston, and when I’m on a commercial jet, doing a landing at Hobby Airport.

As I approach the lake, I realize that I’ve never really seen the dam. But since I’m almost directly over it, I get a good look. Below me is Eisenhower Park, and the outflow from the lake forms the San Jacinto River, winding away to the south.

You probably noticed in the previous 3 or 4 images that the air was very hazy. Actually, since I’ve done a little computer magic to clarify the images, you don’t see how truly hazy it was. Visibility was probably 5 miles or more, but looking straight ahead, especially when flying into the sun, looked like “white soup.”

I knew that the majority of my first leg would be over trees, and photos of trees and more trees is fairly boring. I took this shot below because of the pattern of trees. I’m assuming they were planted by a lumber company. But, to re-emphasize the horizon-to-horizon green carpet of trees I was flying over, I felt compelled to take another shot. Very few fields for emergency landings! Gulp!

The haze was bad enough, but it irked me to see someone burning trash… it certainly didn’t help.

An hour and a half into the first leg, I spot B.A. Steinhagen Lake, on the Neches River, one of our better catfishing lakes… Catches of flathead catfish over 50 pounds are common in the Neches River, just above this reservoir.

Right after Steinhagen Lake, I see the Jasper County airport off to my right.

Then, through the haze, in the distance to my left, is Toledo Bend Reservoir, created out of the Sabine River.

This is a very large lake, and I’m passing over it near the southern end.

I’ve exchanged emails with a fellow pilot who owns an Aventura and flies off this lake, but I don’t have time to stop and visit. A quick look down and I see that the long, gradually sloping beaches would make it easy to drive our amphibious craft out of the water.

I’ve now crossed over into Louisiana. With the lake still visible in the distance behind me, I spot my first fuel stop: Hart Airport, near Many, Louisiana.

It looks deserted, and it is, but the self-serve pump works well. After a quick rest room break, I’m off again, taking a last look at the airport. Total time on the ground, about 30 minutes.

FBO
Hart Airport

Right up to the point where I entered the downwind for Hart, the air had remained as smooth as ice. But as I departed for the 2nd leg of the trip, a light turbulence began. I climb a bit higher and the air became smooth again. More trees, and not many landmarks. So, other than trees, all I have to look at are my instruments and my charts.

Breaking the monotony of trees, I spot the Cane River.

Only a few minutes later, I see the much wider Red River. I always associate the Red River with Texas — it forms the Texas/Oklahoma border — so to find it in Louisiana is a little odd. Down near the “crook” of the L-shape of Louisiana, the Red River is connected to the Mississippi River via a channel, and then it’s name is changed to the Atchafalaya River.

Less than an hour later, I finally come across the mighty Mississippi River, just south of Interstate 20.

As I cross over into Mississippi, I note the barges plying the river.

The continuing haze is very noticeable in these shots. Just north of the Natchez Trace is this very large, circular irrigated field.

My next refueling stop — Williams Airport, which is just west of Jackson, MS — is now in sight, bigger than I thought it would be.

It will be nice to take a break; the turbulence has been increasing over the last 2 hours. Again, the airport looks deserted as I pull up next to the self-serve pump.

Hmmm, the pump display is blank, so I walk over to the white FBO building. The electronic door lock is not latched, the air is stuffy inside the building, and the computer terminal is off. I guess I was too numb from the flight to think it through, so I took a quick break then looked around a bit more. I eventually found a business card with a phone number, so I called it. The very nice — and apologetic — lady says they can’t pump fuel because the power is out. Oh.

I asked her where the nearest airport is that has power and can refuel me, and she tells me “Madison.” I thank her then pull out the sectionals to look for Madison. Well, there isn’t a Madison airport, but there is Campbell Airport next to a town called Madison. The sectional confirms that airport has fuel, so I decide to press on. But before I do, I want to make sure I’ll make it, so I dump my 6-gallons of emergency gas into the tank.

This map — showing my track in red —

— will show you that I wasn’t too far from Campbell, but I did want to make sure I’d get there. It was 25 minutes away, so I’d need a minimum of about 3 gallons of fuel. Without a fuel gauge, I didn’t know exactly how much I had left, but I knew my fuel burn rate, and I was keeping good track of my time. So, I knew I probably had 3 gallons left, but there was no sense in pushing it so close when I had a ready reserve of fuel.

By the way, it’s interesting to see exactly how accurate the Garmin 196 GPS can be… look at this track (in yellow)…

…as I landed at Williams [KJVW] (Raymond, MS). You can see the track as I flew over mid-field and entered the downwind, and you can even see me pull up to the self-serve pump! Pretty incredible!

You’ll notice — back on the map showing my track between the two airports — that I didn’t make a bee-line for Campbell… that’s because I was avoiding the Class C airspace around Jackson. To complicate matters, there was also a Class D airspace to avoid. It was easier to go around than deal with the controllers who could route me anywhere they wanted.

Right after I departed Williams, I got this shot out my right side of the east-west Interstate highway — I-20 — that goes into Jackson.

Then, as I approached Campbell, I took this shot out my left side, of the north-south Interstate highway — I-55.

This second photo was taken primarily because of the white monument, looking like it’s at least 60 feet high, standing by the highway. I haven’t yet been able to figure out what it is, though.

Campbell field was busy by my standards.

(Google Maps photo)

The FBO brought a fuel truck over to me for refueling and I got to chat with the fellow. He said that when Katrina passed, the winds were 70mph sustained, with gusts to 100mph! That’s a harder hit than I would have thought, this far inland. He figured they were lucky, though, since their power was only out for about 3 hours, and there were only some tree limbs to deal with.

I was thankful to get fuel — got my reserve 6-gallon can filled, too — and they offered a crew car to me so I could go get some lunch. (I can highly recommend these fellows!) After a hearty Subway sandwich, I headed back to the airport. Since the wind had picked up, and since I knew there was no way I could make the entire trip in one day, I decided to rest a bit. I found a nice spot on the sofa in the FBO and tried unsuccessfully to nap.

Eventually, I mounted my steed and was off again. It was about 4pm as I departed Campbell and flew over Barnett Reservoir. I looked back the way I came, with the yacht club in the foreground.

The air was still turbulent and on the reservoir below me were plenty of sailboats taking advantage of that northeast wind.

My family’s ancestral home is near Union, Mississippi, about 60 miles in front of me. It was pure coincidence that I was going to pass over that area. I decided to make a very minor detour (only a mile or two) to see if I could spot the Laird Cemetary where my great- and great- great- grandfathers lie. The location is very obscure and I didn’t have exact GPS coordinates but I was going to take a shot at finding it anyway.

The land immediately east of Jackson consisted of large fields among the forests.

It’s been a while since I’ve taken a “tractor shot” but since most of this trip has been over forest, and it’s on a holiday, tractors were hard to come by. But, finally, I saw one… enjoy!

At the last stop, I called my wife — as usual — and she asked if I could see much evidence of the hurricane as I passed over Mississippi. Oddly enough, I hadn’t. I noticed many trees that were knocked over, but from my altitude, it was impossible to tell the true cause. I did finally notice a couple of chicken houses, with their roofs messed up, most likely from the high winds of Katrina.

Nearing the spot where I hoped to see the Laird Cemetery from the air, I only saw this plot of land where my guess said it would be.

But, I don’t see it there. Fudge. With a quick glance to the north, where a red dirt road would take you to the town of Union, MS…

…I continued my trek toward Alabama. The headwind is getting worse all the time, as demonstrated by the smoke from this trash fire.

If you’ve look at the map and wondered about the little “jog” just west of Meridian…

…here’s why: A few minutes after my unsuccessful search for the cemetery, I noticed on my GPS, that with the increasing headwind, it was going to be uncomfortably close to my 3 hour time limit by the time I arrived at Clanton (Gragg-Wade Field), Alabama. (Please note: my “3 hour limit” does not include my 30 minute reserve… I play things very conservatively!)

Directly in my way to Clanton was the Meridian Naval Air Station airspace (the blue dashed circle in the map below). I consulted my sectional and saw that if I went around the airspace to the north and then did a bee-line for Clanton, there would be no other airports (not even small private ones) along my path. But, if I went around the south of the airspace, and then did a bee-line, there would be at least two airports almost directly under my track.

Again, being the conservative flyer I am, I decided that a slightly longer detour to the south would be safer. Shortly after my turn to the south I also decided that I didn’t want to cut it that close and so would stop and dump my 6-gallon can into the tank. A few more minutes of assessment, watching the GPS, and doing some mental calculations, I soon realized that I was now also racing the sun. So my stop would have to be fast, and the sooner the better.

As I rounded the bottom part of the Meridian NAS airspace, directly in front of me on my track was Mallard Airport (interesting coincidence, since my final destination was Mallards Landing). And, as luck would have it, the runway (7/25) was almost directly on my bearing. Shortly after I pass over I-20…

…with the town of York, Alabama in front of me, I decide to do a straight-in approach. I made several radio calls for traffic, but heard nothing. The closer I got, the more I realized that Mallard is probably a rarely used airport.

The airport was completely surrounded on all sides by tall pine trees, so I felt like I was dropping into a rectangular pan. As I was landing, I noticed that the runway was not in very good shape. Off to my left were some beat-up looking and rusty t-covers and hangars. After I landed I circled back and positioned the plane to take off. I killed the engine, hopped out, and refueled as quickly as I could.

Although the airport certainly felt deserted, there was a small pickup truck over near the t-covers with a fellow doing something. I kept my eye on him, hoping that he didn’t want to come over and talk. I simply couldn’t spare the time. A couple of minutes later, I was buckling my seat-belt, and fired up the engine. The fellow in the pickup truck drove away. I sped down the runway, lifted up and out of my pine-tree-pan. The air was still turbulent, but the sharpness of it was decreasing by the minute. It was, after all, almost 5pm. The headwind was still there, though.

I settled back down to the routine of flying, concentrating on keeping my ground speed up. From every indication, I would be landing within minutes of official sunset, 7:11pm.

Although there were still a lot of trees around, slowly I started seeing open field and ponds again, including this odd shaped pond.

Off to my left was a coal-fired power plant on the Black Warrior River.

 

It occurred to me that I could take a photo of the screen on my GPS whenever I took a photo of some interesting landmark. It would make it easier to locate later on. Here’s what my GPS screen looked like as I passed by the power plant.

You can see that my ETA was 3 minutes after sunset, so I was still trying my best to increase my ground speed. Luckily, the air got smoother and smoother so I could transition to my fast cruise of 80 mph.

Now, technically, I was equipped for night flying… I had position lights and strobes, as required. But, I just didn’t like doing it. Besides, my wife had called ahead to a motel in Clanton and they were expecting me by 7:20pm. I had plenty of fuel for the remainder of the leg, I had good air, no weather, no traffic, no obstructions, so no reason to think I wouldn’t get there when my GPS said I would.

As I got closer to Clanton, I started seeing a large number of artificial, agricultural-looking ponds.

Later I discovered that this was the heart of Alabama aquaculture and its catfish pond industry.

Soon I was passing over the Talledega National Forest, a dark, tree-filled area just before Clanton. Although the sun hadn’t yet gone down, the haze that I had been fighting all day made the sky much darker. I could just barely make out the town of Clanton in the distance. Several tall antenna were flashing their red lights at me as I threaded between them.

The airport runway was again directly on my bearing, so I decided that a straight-in approach would be better for me. I heard on the radio that someone was doing touch-n-go’s on the runway there, so I called and said I wanted to do a straight-in. I didn’t get a response. I listened carefully to see if I could time it so that I would be on final as they were taking off, but a gap in their transmission made it hard from me to tell where they were.

Through the gloom, I could now just make out the runway, so I again announced my straight-in approach. Just as I was on a 2-mile final, the other aircraft announced it was on downwind. I finally got an acknowledgment that they could hear me, so I apologized for jumping in front. “Not a problem,” the other guy said. I appreciated his professionalism.

Even without a landing light, I greased the landing… best landing all day! Whew! I was happy to be on the ground. I quickly refueled and stuffed all my gear into a duffle bag, put the cover over the Aventura and tied her down. I called my wife; she called the motel and they were on their way. They were very nice to come get me, and exceedingly friendly. I can highly recommend the Shoney’s/ Guesthouse International motel in Clanton!

After a quick dinner in the convenient Shoney’s restaurant next door, I checked the weather on the TV, then hit the sack. The next morning, I had to wait until 8am before someone was available to take me to the airport, but, beggars can’t be choosers. (There were no taxis in Clanton.) I got a much later start than I wanted, but I took a moment to take a photo of my plane in front of the FBO. (You can see the price of gas… $3.79/gallon. That was the most expensive on my route.)

Upon takeoff, I could easily see there were few places for an emergency landing, so I circled the airport…

 

…as I gained altitude. Now at about 2800 feet, I could get a good look at the surrounding countryside. I was stunned to look at the GPS and see that I had a 30 mph headwind! It was also very turbulent… not a day I’d typically like flying in. So, I started to climb to see if I could find some better air.

Ahead me were some high clouds with the sun shining through.

Again, I didn’t want to divert to get a good shot out of the side window, so this was a straight-ahead shot. The body of water to each side of me was Mitchell Lake, part of the Coosa River chain of lakes.

These lakes are impounded by the Alabama Power Company for the purpose of generating hydroelectric power.

At around 3500 feet, the air became very, very smooth and I was happy until I again looked at the GPS… I now had a 40mph headwind! Yikes! This would not do. That put me in the air for over 3.5 hours to get to Mallards Landing. I then climbed to about 5500 feet and managed to increase my ground speed to about 55 mph, but it was very, very bumpy. It took all my effort and concentration to keep it pointed in the right direction, and right-side up!

I was sorry to see the lakes fall behind me since the only thing in front of me was wilderness, tree covered wilderness.

Between me and the Georgia border, there were only three major roads. Here is an interchange on Highway 280, near Kellyton, Alabama.

And here is looking south down Hwy 280, toward Alexander City, the Tallapoosa River, and Lake Martin.

 

Here’s a shot of my instrument panel at about this time…’

…and my GPS.

My location is just north of the airport at Alexander City on the moving map display.

Just shy of the border, I see Roanoke Airport off to my left.

To my right is a rock pit, that makes it look like this might be karst country.

Finally, after crossing the Alabama/Georgia border, the landscape becomes a bit more tame. Here, just south of Peachtree City, is a very nice spread, complete with tree-lined roads leading up to the house.

A few minutes later I see some active irrigation on this large, circular field.

Off to my right, just west of Senoia, is an interesting pattern of some kind of orchard, or perhaps a future Christmas tree farm?

Because I was nearing the Atlanta airspace, I decided that 5500 feet wasn’t optimal, so I dropped down to 2500 feet. On the way down, I noticed that the layer of smooth air was still there, right around 3500 feet, but so was the 40mph headwind. At 2500 feet, the headwind was only about 25-30 mph, but it was very turbulent.

As the town of Senoia comes into view, I know I’m only about 30 minutes from my final destination.

I squint my eyes and look far ahead, but it’s just wishful thinking because it’s still too far to make out. Ten minutes later, I see Lake Horton Reservoir, and I guess that this is the lake that the new owner will be playing in with his new amphibious aircraft.

But I’m premature, for up ahead is what looks like another reservoir, but it doesn’t show up on any of my maps.

I think it’s the Towaliga River and Thomson Creek confluence. Later I’m told it’s used for drinking water and no motorboats are used on it, but the manager said a seaplane would be okay.

Finally, after over 12 hours in the air, I see my destination: Mallards Landing. I’m staring right down the runway, but I’ve forgotten which frequency they use (and it’s not on the sectional).

So, even though it’s a day when no one is likely to be flying, I do the safe and proper thing by banking off to the right…

…then doing a fly over at mid-field. As it turns out, I flew directly over his house, so he knew I had arrived!

The air was still as turbulent as ever, and even banking to turn to base and final had me nervous. I slowed to my approach speed but with the wind changing constantly, I decided to come in a little hot. With the houses near the runway, my approach was very hairy. I was all over the place, and I broke out in a sweat. Just when I thought I was going to be blown into a house, the wind eased, and I dived for the ground. A quick flare, constant adjustments to fight the rotors off the houses and trees, and I do a slight skip on the grass. I’m down… WHEW!

The buyer drove a golf cart out to meet me and I followed him to his house. His house was not directly on the runway, so I had to taxi back through at least two rows of houses. It felt very odd doing that, but it was also kind of cool. After I stopped the engine, he ran over to greet me and so do a couple of neighbors. The Aventura always draws a crowd!

I had one of the neighbors take our picture…

…and soon enough we’ve done the paperwork and we’re heading out to the airport in Atlanta. But not before I take one last picture of the hour meter: 265.3 … When I bought the plane, it was sitting right at 90, so I flew it for 175.3 hours.

Total miles covered on this trip: 809, with 12.3 hours in the air.

Am I sad that I no longer have the Aventura? Absolutely. But I’m looking forward to owning a Kolb, and the fun I’ll have trailering it around.

 

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Rick’s Crash

March 11, 2004

Although many people are tired of hearing me say it, the weather so far this year has been atrocious, for flying, anyway. And lately it seems there’d be a few nice days during the week — when us working stiffs can’t go fly — but the weekends turn rainy, windy and cold. Ok, enough whining.

So, I called Rick and suggested we play hookey by going flying some afternoon. Monday was a no-go because of a Presidential TFR. Tuesday and Wednesday we both bumped into other obligations, but Thursday looked good.

We met at the airport around 4:45pm for a nice late afternoon flight, when the winds should be calmer and the thermals dying out. Temps were in the low 70’s, the sky was mostly blue, and the engine fired right up. The only thing giving it the “near” in “near-perfect” was that the wind was a cross-wind… but it was only a 5-7mph crosswind, so nothing to worry about.

I took off first, and headed south to I-10, then turned west, and Rick was right behind me. Rick commented later that it was the best take-off he’s ever had. He had lowered the pressure in his tires repeatedly, and each time he did, the plane handled better and better. When I turned West I looked back at the airport and saw him ascending and it looked like he was really cooking!

The many times I had flown around to the northwest of the airport, I had seen a small turf airstrip that looked in good condition. It never looked like anyone was there, so the idea was to find it, and do some touch-n-go’s on turf. But, as these things usually happen, when I wasn’t looking for it, I would run into it all the time. Today, though, I was looking for it and simply couldn’t find it.

We did run across a private home, with a hangar and nice turf runway and an even nicer bi-plane parked outside, but that wasn’t what I was looking for. So, our Plan B was to head for Sport Flyers and do the touch-n-go’s there. We turned to the southwest, me out in front and Rick about a mile behind me. Only a few minutes after we made the turn I heard Rick say “Robert, I’ve just had an engine out.”

I immediately radio’d back and asked where he was, but there was no response. I made an immediate hard left turn, 180-degrees from my heading and started looking. Later, when I reviewed my GPS track, I did it perfectly and went almost right over him, but I didn’t see him because he was just off my starboard side. I estimated that I’d already passed where he would have been, and looped around again (and, again, I was right on the mark… I just wasn’t seeing him).

Then I flew almost all the way back to the private house and airstrip (“M03” on the GPS track), then back again toward Sport Flyer. Again I made that long oval pattern, changing it just a little, looking hard and hoping to hear him on the radio.

A good friend, John Crosley, was flying his CH701 down near Brazoria County Airport and had heard Ricks transmission. He radio’d me and asked what happened, but he already knew all I knew. He volunteered to come help look. I couldn’t really ask him to because it was so late in the day and it’d be tough for him to get back to his home airport if he flew up here to help search. Also, I felt sure I would find him eventually, so I suggested that I could probably find him.

And, I did… but it took me almost 15 minutes from Ricks brief transmission before I saw the wreckage.

I was amazed to see a fire department ambulance already on-site, but feared the worst… the wreckage looked bad. Just as I flew over the crash site, Rick came on the radio and said he was ok. Whew! What a huge relief!

I felt helpless, flying around, just like I felt when I was with my brother and he had his first engine out. The big difference was, with my brother, I was right there with him and even watched as he landed; with Rick, I had to find him and that was nerve wracking. The moment of discovery…

…brought me a huge empty feeling in my gut, but the moment later was a huge feeling of relief when I heard that he was okay. What a roller coaster ride for me, but it was even more of a ride for Rick.

Rick, over the radio, asked what I was going to do. I had been searching the area…

…to see if there were a plausible landing area, but I couldn’t see anything that looked viable. I was only 10 miles away from the home airport, so I told him I’d head back, land, then drive out and pick him up.

On the way back I contacted John Crosley and told him that Rick was okay. Another pilot had overheard everything and wanted to chat about it. About half-way back, I passed a news helicopter going the other way…

…toward the crash site. I guess they picked up the crash information on a police scanner.

As quick as I could, I got to the crash site… looking at it, even from the road, I was amazed Rick walked away from that wreckage! He was one heck of a lucky guy!

From the road…
From the road…
In the field…

As I drove up, the ambulance was pulling away. The only people left besides Rick were a state trooper and a photographer.

The trooper had called the FAA, but when the FAA was told it was a single-seat ultralight, they said they weren’t interested. The trooper then wanted to call the EAA, but I told him they didn’t have an investigative arm, so, he just shrugged and decided there wasn’t anything left for him to do. He chatted for a little while about his days as a pilot, then left. The photographer hung around for a little while longer, taking pictures of course, then left.

I asked Rick to pose for just a second in front of the wreckage…

He then told me what happened:

I was headed south at approximately 1200 ft. MSL (about 1100 ft. AGL). The engine acted like it ran out of gas. I was increasing the throttle to gain some altitude and the engine slowly lost power and died. The silence is very spooky. I quickly checked my airspeed and altitude and started looking for a place to land. Straight ahead was houses and trees. To my left was a big clear field. I turned slowly and set the plane on a glide to the field. Unfortunately, I was loosing altitude very fast. Within 30 to 40 seconds I was at 500 ft. I checked my fuel bulb to see if I had fuel pressure. It was hard as a rock so I tried to re-start the engine, but it just cranked without starting. I tried one more time to re-start the engine to no avail then realized that I wasn’t going to make it to the field. I was going to hit the power lines that lined the field. The road was busy with traffic so that wasn’t an option. I spotted another field to my left, but it had power lines with pine trees below the power lines. However it was real close, so I turned left again but I lost almost 300 ft on the turn and was again headed straight for the power lines. The only option I could think of at the time was to dive below the power lines and try to hit the tops of the trees. By the time I realized I was going to crash, I was too low to pull the BRS. Within a couple of seconds I hit the trees and the plane rolled to the right and hit the ground breaking the right wing off the plane coming to a stop upside down. Gasoline was pouring out of the gas tank all over me and all I could think of was to get out fast. I released the seat belt and crawled out of the plane and away as fast as I could. There were already several cars stopped and within seconds several people were there to assist me. Within less than 5 minutes there were police and Katy fire department trucks on site.

Rick didn’t radio me after that first brief call because, on impact, everything that wasn’t bolted down flew forward into the nose of the plane, including the radio. So it took him a while to retrieve it and call me.

When the fire department got there, they sprayed foam over the plane and the surrounding grounds because of the gas. It was still evident underfoot when I got there.

Pine branches covered the plane, providing ample evidence of his trajectory through the trees. There was the smell of gas, enough to make you decide not to turn on a switch.

I looked at it for a while and decided that the plane falling on its right wing probably helped cushion his impact somewhat… the fiberglass hull took a lot of the impact quite well, which also helped. Overall, he was one lucky pilot!

The next morning we took apart what was left of the wings, removed the engine from the root tube, and hauled the plane and wings on to a flatbed trailer. Rick and his friend Chuck put the engine into the back of Ricks van. It finally came to rest in its original T-Hangar… a sad sight.

To Ricks credit, he’s ready to jump back in the saddle, and is talking about rebuilding the Buccaneer — from scratch if he has to. What a guy!

 

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Rick’s Crash_

March 11, 2004

Although many people are tired of hearing me say it, the weather so far this year has been atrocious, for flying, anyway. And lately it seems there’d be a few nice days during the week — when us working stiffs can’t go fly — but the weekends turn rainy, windy and cold. Ok, enough whining.

So, I called Rick and suggested we play hookey by going flying some afternoon. Monday was a no-go because of a Presidential TFR. Tuesday and Wednesday we both bumped into other obligations, but Thursday looked good.

We met at the airport around 4:45pm for a nice late afternoon flight, when the winds should be calmer and the thermals dying out. Temps were in the low 70’s, the sky was mostly blue, and the engine fired right up. The only thing giving it the “near” in “near-perfect” was that the wind was a cross-wind… but it was only a 5-7mph crosswind, so nothing to worry about.

I took off first, and headed south to I-10, then turned west, and Rick was right behind me. Rick commented later that it was the best take-off he’s ever had. He had lowered the pressure in his tires repeatedly, and each time he did, the plane handled better and better. When I turned West I looked back at the airport and saw him ascending and it looked like he was really cooking!

The many times I had flown around to the northwest of the airport, I had seen a small turf airstrip that looked in good condition. It never looked like anyone was there, so the idea was to find it, and do some touch-n-go’s on turf. But, as these things usually happen, when I wasn’t looking for it, I would run into it all the time. Today, though, I was looking for it and simply couldn’t find it.

We did run across a private home, with a hangar and nice turf runway and an even nicer bi-plane parked outside, but that wasn’t what I was looking for. So, our Plan B was to head for Sport Flyers and do the touch-n-go’s there. We turned to the southwest, me out in front and Rick about a mile behind me. Only a few minutes after we made the turn I heard Rick say “Robert, I’ve just had an engine out.”

I immediately radio’d back and asked where he was, but there was no response. I made an immediate hard left turn, 180-degrees from my heading and started looking. Later, when I reviewed my GPS track, I did it perfectly and went almost right over him, but I didn’t see him because he was just off my starboard side. I estimated that I’d already passed where he would have been, and looped around again (and, again, I was right on the mark… I just wasn’t seeing him).

Then I flew almost all the way back to the private house and airstrip (“M03” on the GPS track), then back again toward Sport Flyer. Again I made that long oval pattern, changing it just a little, looking hard and hoping to hear him on the radio.

A good friend, John Crosley, was flying his CH701 down near Brazoria County Airport and had heard Ricks transmission. He radio’d me and asked what happened, but he already knew all I knew. He volunteered to come help look. I couldn’t really ask him to because it was so late in the day and it’d be tough for him to get back to his home airport if he flew up here to help search. Also, I felt sure I would find him eventually, so I suggested that I could probably find him.

And, I did… but it took me almost 15 minutes from Ricks brief transmission before I saw the wreckage.

I was amazed to see a fire department ambulance already on-site, but feared the worst… the wreckage looked bad. Just as I flew over the crash site, Rick came on the radio and said he was ok. Whew! What a huge relief!

I felt helpless, flying around, just like I felt when I was with my brother and he had his first engine out. The big difference was, with my brother, I was right there with him and even watched as he landed; with Rick, I had to find him and that was nerve wracking. The moment of discovery…

…brought me a huge empty feeling in my gut, but the moment later was a huge feeling of relief when I heard that he was okay. What a roller coaster ride for me, but it was even more of a ride for Rick.

Rick, over the radio, asked what I was going to do. I had been searching the area…

…to see if there were a plausible landing area, but I couldn’t see anything that looked viable. I was only 10 miles away from the home airport, so I told him I’d head back, land, then drive out and pick him up.

On the way back I contacted John Crosley and told him that Rick was okay. Another pilot had overheard everything and wanted to chat about it. About half-way back, I passed a news helicopter going the other way…

…toward the crash site. I guess they picked up the crash information on a police scanner.

As quick as I could, I got to the crash site… looking at it, even from the road, I was amazed Rick walked away from that wreckage! He was one heck of a lucky guy!

From the road…
From the road…
In the field…

As I drove up, the ambulance was pulling away. The only people left besides Rick were a state trooper and a photographer.

The trooper had called the FAA, but when the FAA was told it was a single-seat ultralight, they said they weren’t interested. The trooper then wanted to call the EAA, but I told him they didn’t have an investigative arm, so, he just shrugged and decided there wasn’t anything left for him to do. He chatted for a little while about his days as a pilot, then left. The photographer hung around for a little while longer, taking pictures of course, then left.

I asked Rick to pose for just a second in front of the wreckage…

He then told me what happened:

I was headed south at approximately 1200 ft. MSL (about 1100 ft. AGL). The engine acted like it ran out of gas. I was increasing the throttle to gain some altitude and the engine slowly lost power and died. The silence is very spooky. I quickly checked my airspeed and altitude and started looking for a place to land. Straight ahead was houses and trees. To my left was a big clear field. I turned slowly and set the plane on a glide to the field. Unfortunately, I was loosing altitude very fast. Within 30 to 40 seconds I was at 500 ft. I checked my fuel bulb to see if I had fuel pressure. It was hard as a rock so I tried to re-start the engine, but it just cranked without starting. I tried one more time to re-start the engine to no avail then realized that I wasn’t going to make it to the field. I was going to hit the power lines that lined the field. The road was busy with traffic so that wasn’t an option. I spotted another field to my left, but it had power lines with pine trees below the power lines. However it was real close, so I turned left again but I lost almost 300 ft on the turn and was again headed straight for the power lines. The only option I could think of at the time was to dive below the power lines and try to hit the tops of the trees. By the time I realized I was going to crash, I was too low to pull the BRS. Within a couple of seconds I hit the trees and the plane rolled to the right and hit the ground breaking the right wing off the plane coming to a stop upside down. Gasoline was pouring out of the gas tank all over me and all I could think of was to get out fast. I released the seat belt and crawled out of the plane and away as fast as I could. There were already several cars stopped and within seconds several people were there to assist me. Within less than 5 minutes there were police and Katy fire department trucks on site.

Rick didn’t radio me after that first brief call because, on impact, everything that wasn’t bolted down flew forward into the nose of the plane, including the radio. So it took him a while to retrieve it and call me.

When the fire department got there, they sprayed foam over the plane and the surrounding grounds because of the gas. It was still evident underfoot when I got there.

Pine branches covered the plane, providing ample evidence of his trajectory through the trees. There was the smell of gas, enough to make you decide not to turn on a switch.

I looked at it for a while and decided that the plane falling on its right wing probably helped cushion his impact somewhat… the fiberglass hull took a lot of the impact quite well, which also helped. Overall, he was one lucky pilot!

The next morning we took apart what was left of the wings, removed the engine from the root tube, and hauled the plane and wings on to a flatbed trailer. Rick and his friend Chuck put the engine into the back of Ricks van. It finally came to rest in its original T-Hangar… a sad sight.

To Ricks credit, he’s ready to jump back in the saddle, and is talking about rebuilding the Buccaneer — from scratch if he has to. What a guy!

 

Note:  If you enjoyed this or any of my other blog entries, I suggest you subscribe to this blog so that you are automatically notified when I make a new entry.  Go to the top of this page, and look along the left side for the subscription field.

Wimberly

November 29, 2003

Cold. It was cold as I loaded my gear into my car, getting ready to head for the airport. Probably 36 degrees or less. Frost covered some of the lawns up and down my street.

The day before I knew it was going to be cold, but I also knew it was going to be a spectacular day for flying. So, I bundled up — long-john bottoms, blue-jeans, and windproof ski pants, three shirts, a fleece jacket, and a windproof outer jacket. The only parts of me not double- or triple- or pentiple-layered were my feet and my face.

For the Texas Gulf Coast area, this was pretty cold, but it wasn’t going to stop me from flying. Jim decided to put his doors back on his Challenger, so he was a bit toastier than me.

My battery — being cold, too — wasn’t quite up to starting the engine, so I had to give it a little boost, but soon enough I found myself ascending on the centerline, looking to the east-southeast at the Galleria skyline (the right group of buildings) and the downtown skyline (the more distant, left group of buildings).

Balloonists knew about the ideal weather, too, and it wasn’t long before I saw two of them, one on the ground already, the other one dangerously close to the cars rushing by on Interstate 10.

It wasn’t intentional, but before too long I found myself overflying the aviation community of SportFlyer (27XS)…

…just north of Brookshire, Texas. By this time, I’m at almost 3,000 feet… it wasn’t much colder than at 1,500 feet, so I figured I’d enjoy the long distances you can see on cold days. A bit later, I approached the Brazos River and took this shot of it with an oxbow lake…

…in the foreground. As you probably know, that oxbow lake used to be part of the river… it certainly does meander, doesn’t it?

Ok — shiver, shiver — I’ve been in the air for 25 minutes, my thermometer says it’s 48 degrees, and I’m flying over an area I’ve been over many times before. It’s another 30 minutes before I take another shot… partly because I’m keeping my hands in my pockets where it’s warm, but also because the details on the ground I normally see at 1,000-1,500 feet are too tiny to be of much interest when at 3,000 feet. Finally I see a large, familiar landmark, the power plant and lake at Fayetteville.

Ah, here’s something I might have missed at a lower altitude, a large, round field. If you squint and turn your head a bit, you might see a face.

Shortly after that, I looked to my right and saw Fayette Regional Airport.

So far, although cold, I wasn’t that uncomfortable. The air was smooth as glass… like riding on a rail. The sky had been clear up to now, but off to the southwest was an unusual cloud, and it was breathtaking! The photo doesn’t show it, but the sun was shining through small breaks in that flat, rippling cloud, creating crepuscular rays. It was stunning.

After almost 2 hours in the air, I was closing in on Lockhart. For the last 15 minutes, I had managed to raise Jim on the radio, and he was about 10 minutes ahead of me. Great timing! He couldn’t get anyone to accompany him so, like me, he was solo on the first leg of the trip. What was really funny was, I managed to raise John Riley on the radio, and he was back at Bailes, flying around with Gabe. That means I could hear him and talk to him over 140 miles away! Incredible! I’m sure the clear, crisp day helped, and I was at 3,000 feet, of course, so that had to help, too. But still, that was really something!

The singular layer of cloud was still there as I lined up for the approach at Lockhart.

It was so beautiful, it was distracting. The first bumps I felt were in the pattern and on approach… the rest of the almost 2 hour flight had been baby-bottom smooth. I landed and taxied up to see Jim in front of the FBO, waving enthusiastically.

As we refueled, Jim said that he had stopped at Hallettsville and was planning to refuel there, but the pumps were not working, so he was pretty low after 156 miles. Soon enough, we were back in the air… I took this shot…

…of the airport as we turned north in order to avoid San Marcos Airport.

Here is another map, zoomed in, showing the San Marco area and our track.

At the outset, we had two general ideas before we started the trip: we wanted to fly over the Wimberley area, and we wanted to land at Lago Vista airport, just northwest of Austin. As we flew north from Lockhart, I could see Austin in the distance, but somehow I knew we wouldn’t make it to Lago Vista.

The wind had picked up considerably, and now we were fighting gusts, thermals and generally windy conditions. (Yes, even on cold days, there can be thermals!) Neither one of us felt it would be wise to try to make Lago Vista, partly because of the windy conditions, and partly because we felt we didn’t have enough time before the early Winter sun set.

After a few miles in a northerly direction, we turned west, and headed for a waypoint called Restoration Ranch, a private turf airstrip near Wimberley. Somewhere near where our track crossed Interstate 35, near a small town north of San Marcos called Kyle, I spotted this tin fleamarket, with a Texas flag painted on the side.

Looking up from that, the hills of the Texas Hill Country loomed ahead. Below me was my first look at my most favorite river in the entire world, the Blanco River.

Most of the time, it’s not much more than a shallow creek, but it’s spring-fed, clear, and has a lot of character!

As you can see, there are numerous low-water crossings, and occasionally a more substantial bridge.

If you’ll notice, this bridge is concave shaped, and it’s designed to be overrun with water because, sometimes, the Blanco becomes a raging, torrential nightmare. Very few houses are right on the river bank, because it wouldn’t be long before they would be swept away. The beauty of the river can be seductive. But if you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time, the seductress can be a killer, with a wall of water rushing downstream, washing away everything in its path.

Here is a sharp bend in the river…

…and you can see where it has eaten away the side of the hill over thousands of years. This section…

…illustrates the rocky limestone foundation of this area of Texas, and shows shallow portions of blue-green water. Rainfall soaks into the limestone which creates a vast underground reservoir called the Edwards Aquifer. The Aquifer is the source of a great many springs in the area, which ultimately gives birth to the Blanco and other small rivers.

I passed over the 7A-Ranch Resort and Pioneer Town, one of many places to stay in Wimberley. My favorite, going back many decades, is Rio Bonito.

We press on, past the town, for Jim wants to find a small cabin he has stayed at. Off in the distance, nestled among the hills, is Canyon Lake.

I look down, anxious to get another shot of the pretty river, but as I press on the shutter release, the sun reflects off the water.

Finally, he finds the particular bend in the river where the cabin is… somewhere down there…

…among the trees and the limestone escarpments.

The hills have made the air even rougher, so we finally decide we’ve had enough. A quick conversation about whether or not to head for Lago Vista… not!… and we turn southeast toward New Braunfels, and lunch! Shortly after we turn, I grab this dramatic shot of the Devils Backbone (which I can tell you is a great thrill on a fast motorcycle!).

Off to my right is Canyon Lake and the wide tan expanse of Canyon Dam.

To my left are some of the more rugged hills found in the area.

Before long, we land at New Braunfels. As we taxi, I’m overwhelmed by the old 4-engine aircraft left standing who-knows-how-long on the tarmac.

The primary purpose for landing at New Braunfels: it’s one of the few airports within our range that has a restaurant on the field. Jim had a club sandwich; I had a burger. We left happy!

We decided to return to Lockhart to refuel, so we mounted up and took off.

On the short flight to Lockhart, we blundered into a small airfield — Fentress Airpark — used by Skydive San Marcos for parachute jumping.

Given the clear day, it wasn’t hard to spot this rather large grass fire.

It appears to have engulfed at least one trailer home. Someone wasn’t having a very good day, but at least there were several fire engines on site.

Back at Lockhart, we refuel…

…and talk about the flight back. Jim is concerned he won’t make it back to Bailes before dark due to a headwind that has come up. So, he decides to accompany me back to West Houston.

Although this is territory I’ve been over before, there are always things to see. Here, two families contest each other with color; on one side of the road, nearly all the buildings except the main house are red with a tin roofs; on the other side of the street, all the buildings except the main house are white with green roofs. It caught my eye… like a little color feud.

Another view of the Fayetteville power plant, this time at a lower altitude, and with power lines leading away.

This is a very interesting — and odd — house out in the middle of nowhere. I can’t quite decide which motif they were shooting for, but it seems to have a little bit of everything.

Here is an orchard (what kind, I don’t know) snug up against the Colorado River, with cattle grazing between the rows of trees.

Jim was still plugging along…

…in fact, we probably spent 20 minutes or more without chattering to each other over the air-to-air channel. At one point, he calls over: “Are you asleep?” I kind of felt like I was… Flying lower was better because there was more to see, but the thermals were wearing us down. Just as I was thinking that, they suddenly became noticeably quieter. It was almost 4 o’clock, and the sun had lost its hold on the land, and the thermal “bubbles” could no longer burst.

It was right about then I suggested to Jim that he fly toward Bailes for a few minutes to see what his GPS told him his ETA would be. He did so, and it said it would get him there by 5:15pm, so, a waggle of the wings and he veered off toward the southeast. Later he told me he landed at 5:20, so it was a good estimate.

Shortly after that, I took these shots of the Brazos River meandering under the I-10 bridge, US 90 pointing due east, toward Houston, a Katy grain elevator — a farmers sentinel and its shadow, and the Katy water tower, looking like a Martian from out of Wells’ “War of the Worlds.”

Being an all-day trip, we realized that we’re reaching the limits of our 1-day range. It was fun to see the Hill Country from the air, and there’s a lot more to see. But it will have to wait for another day.

366 miles covered, and in the air for about 5 hours 45 minutes.

 

Note:  If you enjoyed this or any of my other blog entries, I suggest you subscribe to this blog so that you are automatically notified when I make a new entry.  Go to the top of this page, and look along the left side for the subscription field.

Wimberly_

November 29, 2003

Cold. It was cold as I loaded my gear into my car, getting ready to head for the airport. Probably 36 degrees or less. Frost covered some of the lawns up and down my street.

The day before I knew it was going to be cold, but I also knew it was going to be a spectacular day for flying. So, I bundled up — long-john bottoms, blue-jeans, and windproof ski pants, three shirts, a fleece jacket, and a windproof outer jacket. The only parts of me not double- or triple- or pentiple-layered were my feet and my face.

For the Texas Gulf Coast area, this was pretty cold, but it wasn’t going to stop me from flying. Jim decided to put his doors back on his Challenger, so he was a bit toastier than me.

My battery — being cold, too — wasn’t quite up to starting the engine, so I had to give it a little boost, but soon enough I found myself ascending on the centerline, looking to the east-southeast at the Galleria skyline (the right group of buildings) and the downtown skyline (the more distant, left group of buildings).

Balloonists knew about the ideal weather, too, and it wasn’t long before I saw two of them, one on the ground already, the other one dangerously close to the cars rushing by on Interstate 10.

It wasn’t intentional, but before too long I found myself overflying the aviation community of SportFlyer (27XS)…

…just north of Brookshire, Texas. By this time, I’m at almost 3,000 feet… it wasn’t much colder than at 1,500 feet, so I figured I’d enjoy the long distances you can see on cold days. A bit later, I approached the Brazos River and took this shot of it with an oxbow lake…

…in the foreground. As you probably know, that oxbow lake used to be part of the river… it certainly does meander, doesn’t it?

Ok — shiver, shiver — I’ve been in the air for 25 minutes, my thermometer says it’s 48 degrees, and I’m flying over an area I’ve been over many times before. It’s another 30 minutes before I take another shot… partly because I’m keeping my hands in my pockets where it’s warm, but also because the details on the ground I normally see at 1,000-1,500 feet are too tiny to be of much interest when at 3,000 feet. Finally I see a large, familiar landmark, the power plant and lake at Fayetteville.

Ah, here’s something I might have missed at a lower altitude, a large, round field. If you squint and turn your head a bit, you might see a face.

Shortly after that, I looked to my right and saw Fayette Regional Airport.

So far, although cold, I wasn’t that uncomfortable. The air was smooth as glass… like riding on a rail. The sky had been clear up to now, but off to the southwest was an unusual cloud, and it was breathtaking! The photo doesn’t show it, but the sun was shining through small breaks in that flat, rippling cloud, creating crepuscular rays. It was stunning.

After almost 2 hours in the air, I was closing in on Lockhart. For the last 15 minutes, I had managed to raise Jim on the radio, and he was about 10 minutes ahead of me. Great timing! He couldn’t get anyone to accompany him so, like me, he was solo on the first leg of the trip. What was really funny was, I managed to raise John Riley on the radio, and he was back at Bailes, flying around with Gabe. That means I could hear him and talk to him over 140 miles away! Incredible! I’m sure the clear, crisp day helped, and I was at 3,000 feet, of course, so that had to help, too. But still, that was really something!

The singular layer of cloud was still there as I lined up for the approach at Lockhart.

It was so beautiful, it was distracting. The first bumps I felt were in the pattern and on approach… the rest of the almost 2 hour flight had been baby-bottom smooth. I landed and taxied up to see Jim in front of the FBO, waving enthusiastically.

As we refueled, Jim said that he had stopped at Hallettsville and was planning to refuel there, but the pumps were not working, so he was pretty low after 156 miles. Soon enough, we were back in the air… I took this shot…

…of the airport as we turned north in order to avoid San Marcos Airport.

Here is another map, zoomed in, showing the San Marco area and our track.

At the outset, we had two general ideas before we started the trip: we wanted to fly over the Wimberley area, and we wanted to land at Lago Vista airport, just northwest of Austin. As we flew north from Lockhart, I could see Austin in the distance, but somehow I knew we wouldn’t make it to Lago Vista.

The wind had picked up considerably, and now we were fighting gusts, thermals and generally windy conditions. (Yes, even on cold days, there can be thermals!) Neither one of us felt it would be wise to try to make Lago Vista, partly because of the windy conditions, and partly because we felt we didn’t have enough time before the early Winter sun set.

After a few miles in a northerly direction, we turned west, and headed for a waypoint called Restoration Ranch, a private turf airstrip near Wimberley. Somewhere near where our track crossed Interstate 35, near a small town north of San Marcos called Kyle, I spotted this tin fleamarket, with a Texas flag painted on the side.

Looking up from that, the hills of the Texas Hill Country loomed ahead. Below me was my first look at my most favorite river in the entire world, the Blanco River.

Most of the time, it’s not much more than a shallow creek, but it’s spring-fed, clear, and has a lot of character!

As you can see, there are numerous low-water crossings, and occasionally a more substantial bridge.

If you’ll notice, this bridge is concave shaped, and it’s designed to be overrun with water because, sometimes, the Blanco becomes a raging, torrential nightmare. Very few houses are right on the river bank, because it wouldn’t be long before they would be swept away. The beauty of the river can be seductive. But if you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time, the seductress can be a killer, with a wall of water rushing downstream, washing away everything in its path.

Here is a sharp bend in the river…

…and you can see where it has eaten away the side of the hill over thousands of years. This section…

…illustrates the rocky limestone foundation of this area of Texas, and shows shallow portions of blue-green water. Rainfall soaks into the limestone which creates a vast underground reservoir called the Edwards Aquifer. The Aquifer is the source of a great many springs in the area, which ultimately gives birth to the Blanco and other small rivers.

I passed over the 7A-Ranch Resort and Pioneer Town, one of many places to stay in Wimberley. My favorite, going back many decades, is Rio Bonito.

We press on, past the town, for Jim wants to find a small cabin he has stayed at. Off in the distance, nestled among the hills, is Canyon Lake.

I look down, anxious to get another shot of the pretty river, but as I press on the shutter release, the sun reflects off the water.

Finally, he finds the particular bend in the river where the cabin is… somewhere down there…

…among the trees and the limestone escarpments.

The hills have made the air even rougher, so we finally decide we’ve had enough. A quick conversation about whether or not to head for Lago Vista… not!… and we turn southeast toward New Braunfels, and lunch! Shortly after we turn, I grab this dramatic shot of the Devils Backbone (which I can tell you is a great thrill on a fast motorcycle!).

Off to my right is Canyon Lake and the wide tan expanse of Canyon Dam.

To my left are some of the more rugged hills found in the area.

Before long, we land at New Braunfels. As we taxi, I’m overwhelmed by the old 4-engine aircraft left standing who-knows-how-long on the tarmac.

The primary purpose for landing at New Braunfels: it’s one of the few airports within our range that has a restaurant on the field. Jim had a club sandwich; I had a burger. We left happy!

We decided to return to Lockhart to refuel, so we mounted up and took off.

On the short flight to Lockhart, we blundered into a small airfield — Fentress Airpark — used by Skydive San Marcos for parachute jumping.

Given the clear day, it wasn’t hard to spot this rather large grass fire.

It appears to have engulfed at least one trailer home. Someone wasn’t having a very good day, but at least there were several fire engines on site.

Back at Lockhart, we refuel…

…and talk about the flight back. Jim is concerned he won’t make it back to Bailes before dark due to a headwind that has come up. So, he decides to accompany me back to West Houston.

Although this is territory I’ve been over before, there are always things to see. Here, two families contest each other with color; on one side of the road, nearly all the buildings except the main house are red with a tin roofs; on the other side of the street, all the buildings except the main house are white with green roofs. It caught my eye… like a little color feud.

Another view of the Fayetteville power plant, this time at a lower altitude, and with power lines leading away.

This is a very interesting — and odd — house out in the middle of nowhere. I can’t quite decide which motif they were shooting for, but it seems to have a little bit of everything.

Here is an orchard (what kind, I don’t know) snug up against the Colorado River, with cattle grazing between the rows of trees.

Jim was still plugging along…

…in fact, we probably spent 20 minutes or more without chattering to each other over the air-to-air channel. At one point, he calls over: “Are you asleep?” I kind of felt like I was… Flying lower was better because there was more to see, but the thermals were wearing us down. Just as I was thinking that, they suddenly became noticeably quieter. It was almost 4 o’clock, and the sun had lost its hold on the land, and the thermal “bubbles” could no longer burst.

It was right about then I suggested to Jim that he fly toward Bailes for a few minutes to see what his GPS told him his ETA would be. He did so, and it said it would get him there by 5:15pm, so, a waggle of the wings and he veered off toward the southeast. Later he told me he landed at 5:20, so it was a good estimate.

Shortly after that, I took these shots of the Brazos River meandering under the I-10 bridge, US 90 pointing due east, toward Houston, a Katy grain elevator — a farmers sentinel and its shadow, and the Katy water tower, looking like a Martian from out of Wells’ “War of the Worlds.”

Being an all-day trip, we realized that we’re reaching the limits of our 1-day range. It was fun to see the Hill Country from the air, and there’s a lot more to see. But it will have to wait for another day.

366 miles covered, and in the air for about 5 hours 45 minutes.

 

Note:  If you enjoyed this or any of my other blog entries, I suggest you subscribe to this blog so that you are automatically notified when I make a new entry.  Go to the top of this page, and look along the left side for the subscription field.

Scout Flyover_

October 4, 2003

We’ve had an unusually pleasant run of days in the southeast Texas range for the last week or so, and Saturday was no exception. The day started with no clouds, pleasant temps, and no breeze.

The EAA Chapter 347 email list was alight with postings, “What’re we gonna do, where’re we gonna go…” since everyone knew it would be a nice day to fly. It’s never difficult to jump in the plane and just fly around… after all, that’s what it’s all about. But sometimes its fun to have a challenge, a quest, a goal. For this flight, my mind was made up for me when my youngest son was packing to go on his first Boy Scout wilderness campout. When I dropped him off Friday afternoon, I said, “Don’t be surprised if you see some planes flyover.” I winked at him with a smile.

It was easy to say we’d flyover, but I honestly didn’t know if we’d be able to find them. There was only one way to find out, though, so, off we went. To entice any of the other pilots thinking about making the long trek, I first suggested lunch at Brenham.

In case you don’t know, Brenham airport has a very nice “diner” right on the airport grounds, sharing the same building with the FBO. The waitresses dress up in 50’s poodle skirts, and there’s a rock-n-roll theme. I like to sit outside, and watch the planes come and go.

Jim — with his Challenger newly fixed — and Russell, in his SkyBoy, decided to join me in my quest… and, more importantly, for lunch. Rick wanted to go, but he was under the weather and didn’t want to stray too far from home.

Jim and Russell flew from Bailes, and I took off from West Houston. On the way, I saw this unusually shaped pond…

…and a farmer trying to get every last scrap of hay from this tree-filled plot of land.

Forty-two minutes after I left West Houston,, around 11:10am, , I arrived at Brenham, grabbed a table outside, and sipped on a Coke until they arrived.

After lunch we reviewed our plan and decided to fly to Fayette Regional, first, to refuel. After that, we would have plenty of fuel for the aerial search.

There always seem to be interesting aircraft at Brenham… on this trip, I saw a stunning Velocity… and I’ll also count Russell’s SkyBoy!

Velocity
Skyboy

On the short hop to Fayette Regional Airport, we passed Round Top, Texas. I spotted a cemetery: a type of landmark I realized I should have been taking note of before.

 

Map showing Round Top
Cemetery

This time of year, there is usually something going on at Round Top, and today was no exception. There was an antique fair and something else I never figured out. But it looked like a lot of people were having a great deal of fun!

Soon after that I caught two tractors hard at work.

In the distance to my left is the Fayetteville Power Plant. The waters of Lake Fayette, heated by the power plant, provide year-round fishing and record catches, according to the locals.

Soon enough, Fayette Regional appears and we’re on the ground.

The airport is a lot busier than the last time I was here, in April 2003. First Russell refuels, then me, then Jim refuels his Challenger…

…and people swarm around our planes, taking pictures and kids asking to sit in the pilots seat. Turns out that the first Saturday of the month is kind of a local fly-in/open house, so they have lots of visitors.

Before long, we huddle, agree on some safety protocols for flying around looking for the wilderness campsite, then we saddle up and head on out. It didn’t take long for me to discover that, in the midst of the gawkers looking at our aircraft, my pitot tube has been pushed to the side. In more practical terms: my airspeed indicator is not reading correctly. This isn’t terrible, but I was about to go looking for a campsite, at relatively low altitudes, and it would be a bad thing to have too low an airspeed at a critical moment.

I radio’d Jim and asked for a calculated headwind (his airspeed indicator versus his GPS (ground speed) indicator). It’s only a couple of mph different, so I decide that as long as I keep my ground speed (via GPS) above 60mph, then I’ll be fine. That will give me more than 15 mph buffer zone, which should be plenty (for my plane).

As we got closer to the point that we had set into our GPSes, I got more and more worried that we wouldn’t be able to find them. Ahead of us were rolling hills, covered with trees. I was almost right on top of my GPS waypoint, looking around, feeling that it was hopeless, when suddenly I see a clearing…

…with some cars and tents… I found it! It was less than 1 mile off my estimated waypoint. I announced my find to Russell and Jim via the radio.

Almost immediately, though, I realized there wasn’t a soul in sight. The clearing and campground were empty. I circled around again, to take another picture.

Less than 30 seconds later, Jim announced that he had found the group, about 100 yards east of the clearing, gathered under a tree.

Like many times when I’m taking photos from my plane, I have to decide if I’m taking the photo, or am I going to actually LOOK at what’s there. Most of the time, I take the photo. Until I got home and looked at the (rather blurry) image I took, I didn’t realize that, there was Cameron, waving at me!

I found out later that he told the Scoutmasters, “that’s my dad!” but they thought he was just kidding around. When I picked him up, I took a print of the aerial photos… I think they believed that. Hee hee.

I took another shot of the group, then did another pass by the campsite where I took yet another photo, but one in which you can see both the campground and the group under the tree.

Ok, we had hassled them enough and decided to head on back to our respective airports. I radio’d Jim and Russell that I was going to go back to Fayette Regional just long enough to fix my pitot tube. Jim had been having trouble with his radio… Russell could hear him, but Jim couldn’t hear Russell. I acted as relay long enough for them to agree to fly directly back to Bailes, and we parted ways.

I made a very quick stop at Fayette, just landing, taxiing back to the hold short line, set my brake, hopped out and fixed the pitot tube, hopped back in, and took off. Quick and easy.

On my way back to West Houston, I again passed by the power plant and lake, but this time from 3700 feet… a stunning sight!

I was trying to get above the clouds, but they were deceptively high, and eventually I gave up. Besides, it was pretty cool up there and, by being lower, I could take more pictures.

I saw many fields with amazing geometric shapes… I think the farmers simply have a blast figuring out how to make it more dramatic. Or maybe it’s just accidental. Either way, it’s a joy!

The major theme unfolding below me seemed to be hay collection… in the three shots below, there’s a farmer using the old-fashioned square bales; meanwhile, in a nearby field, another farmer is creating the newer round bales of hay; and then, here is a huge field, with an hourglass shaped pond in the middle, and two rows of bales stretching out on either side.

This one struck me as being both odd and whimsical… trees in a circle in the middle of a field. (Being eight, it could also be described as an octagon.)

This next field is a rectangle in a rectangle, but with kind of a tail.

It’s hard to see him, but there’s a tractor in this large field of hay, but how else to describe it but “corn rows.”

This truck and tractor are working side-by-side in the shadow of a white grain elevator near Katy.

Here’s an overhead perspective of another cemetery.

Getting closer to the city, here are some “corn rows” of yellow buses.

About this time, I’m starting to parallel Interstate 10, and I look off to my right to see the massive Katy Mills Mall.

My final geometric pattern is Rhodes Stadium, in Katy, which shows off it’s striped parking lot as much as it’s oval shaped grounds and rectangular field.

Whew! This last leg was tough, with a lot of turbulence, but having those interesting things to look at made it easier. Total distance covered was 225 miles, and in the air for 3 hours 36 minutes.

Upon reflection, it seemed unlikely we would be able to fly 90 miles or more in a given direction and find a group of campers out in the wild, so it’s even more amazing that it was so easy.

 

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Scout Flyover

October 4, 2003

We’ve had an unusually pleasant run of days in the southeast Texas range for the last week or so, and Saturday was no exception. The day started with no clouds, pleasant temps, and no breeze.

The EAA Chapter 347 email list was alight with postings, “What’re we gonna do, where’re we gonna go…” since everyone knew it would be a nice day to fly. It’s never difficult to jump in the plane and just fly around… after all, that’s what it’s all about. But sometimes its fun to have a challenge, a quest, a goal. For this flight, my mind was made up for me when my youngest son was packing to go on his first Boy Scout wilderness campout. When I dropped him off Friday afternoon, I said, “Don’t be surprised if you see some planes flyover.” I winked at him with a smile.

It was easy to say we’d flyover, but I honestly didn’t know if we’d be able to find them. There was only one way to find out, though, so, off we went. To entice any of the other pilots thinking about making the long trek, I first suggested lunch at Brenham.

In case you don’t know, Brenham airport has a very nice “diner” right on the airport grounds, sharing the same building with the FBO. The waitresses dress up in 50’s poodle skirts, and there’s a rock-n-roll theme. I like to sit outside, and watch the planes come and go.

Jim — with his Challenger newly fixed — and Russell, in his SkyBoy, decided to join me in my quest… and, more importantly, for lunch. Rick wanted to go, but he was under the weather and didn’t want to stray too far from home.

Jim and Russell flew from Bailes, and I took off from West Houston. On the way, I saw this unusually shaped pond…

…and a farmer trying to get every last scrap of hay from this tree-filled plot of land.

Forty-two minutes after I left West Houston,, around 11:10am, , I arrived at Brenham, grabbed a table outside, and sipped on a Coke until they arrived.

After lunch we reviewed our plan and decided to fly to Fayette Regional, first, to refuel. After that, we would have plenty of fuel for the aerial search.

There always seem to be interesting aircraft at Brenham… on this trip, I saw a stunning Velocity… and I’ll also count Russell’s SkyBoy!

Velocity
Skyboy

On the short hop to Fayette Regional Airport, we passed Round Top, Texas. I spotted a cemetery: a type of landmark I realized I should have been taking note of before.

 

Map showing Round Top
Cemetery

This time of year, there is usually something going on at Round Top, and today was no exception. There was an antique fair and something else I never figured out. But it looked like a lot of people were having a great deal of fun!

Soon after that I caught two tractors hard at work.

In the distance to my left is the Fayetteville Power Plant. The waters of Lake Fayette, heated by the power plant, provide year-round fishing and record catches, according to the locals.

Soon enough, Fayette Regional appears and we’re on the ground.

The airport is a lot busier than the last time I was here, in April 2003. First Russell refuels, then me, then Jim refuels his Challenger…

…and people swarm around our planes, taking pictures and kids asking to sit in the pilots seat. Turns out that the first Saturday of the month is kind of a local fly-in/open house, so they have lots of visitors.

Before long, we huddle, agree on some safety protocols for flying around looking for the wilderness campsite, then we saddle up and head on out. It didn’t take long for me to discover that, in the midst of the gawkers looking at our aircraft, my pitot tube has been pushed to the side. In more practical terms: my airspeed indicator is not reading correctly. This isn’t terrible, but I was about to go looking for a campsite, at relatively low altitudes, and it would be a bad thing to have too low an airspeed at a critical moment.

I radio’d Jim and asked for a calculated headwind (his airspeed indicator versus his GPS (ground speed) indicator). It’s only a couple of mph different, so I decide that as long as I keep my ground speed (via GPS) above 60mph, then I’ll be fine. That will give me more than 15 mph buffer zone, which should be plenty (for my plane).

As we got closer to the point that we had set into our GPSes, I got more and more worried that we wouldn’t be able to find them. Ahead of us were rolling hills, covered with trees. I was almost right on top of my GPS waypoint, looking around, feeling that it was hopeless, when suddenly I see a clearing…

…with some cars and tents… I found it! It was less than 1 mile off my estimated waypoint. I announced my find to Russell and Jim via the radio.

Almost immediately, though, I realized there wasn’t a soul in sight. The clearing and campground were empty. I circled around again, to take another picture.

Less than 30 seconds later, Jim announced that he had found the group, about 100 yards east of the clearing, gathered under a tree.

Like many times when I’m taking photos from my plane, I have to decide if I’m taking the photo, or am I going to actually LOOK at what’s there. Most of the time, I take the photo. Until I got home and looked at the (rather blurry) image I took, I didn’t realize that, there was Cameron, waving at me!

I found out later that he told the Scoutmasters, “that’s my dad!” but they thought he was just kidding around. When I picked him up, I took a print of the aerial photos… I think they believed that. Hee hee.

I took another shot of the group, then did another pass by the campsite where I took yet another photo, but one in which you can see both the campground and the group under the tree.

Ok, we had hassled them enough and decided to head on back to our respective airports. I radio’d Jim and Russell that I was going to go back to Fayette Regional just long enough to fix my pitot tube. Jim had been having trouble with his radio… Russell could hear him, but Jim couldn’t hear Russell. I acted as relay long enough for them to agree to fly directly back to Bailes, and we parted ways.

I made a very quick stop at Fayette, just landing, taxiing back to the hold short line, set my brake, hopped out and fixed the pitot tube, hopped back in, and took off. Quick and easy.

On my way back to West Houston, I again passed by the power plant and lake, but this time from 3700 feet… a stunning sight!

I was trying to get above the clouds, but they were deceptively high, and eventually I gave up. Besides, it was pretty cool up there and, by being lower, I could take more pictures.

I saw many fields with amazing geometric shapes… I think the farmers simply have a blast figuring out how to make it more dramatic. Or maybe it’s just accidental. Either way, it’s a joy!

The major theme unfolding below me seemed to be hay collection… in the three shots below, there’s a farmer using the old-fashioned square bales; meanwhile, in a nearby field, another farmer is creating the newer round bales of hay; and then, here is a huge field, with an hourglass shaped pond in the middle, and two rows of bales stretching out on either side.

This one struck me as being both odd and whimsical… trees in a circle in the middle of a field. (Being eight, it could also be described as an octagon.)

This next field is a rectangle in a rectangle, but with kind of a tail.

It’s hard to see him, but there’s a tractor in this large field of hay, but how else to describe it but “corn rows.”

This truck and tractor are working side-by-side in the shadow of a white grain elevator near Katy.

Here’s an overhead perspective of another cemetery.

Getting closer to the city, here are some “corn rows” of yellow buses.

About this time, I’m starting to parallel Interstate 10, and I look off to my right to see the massive Katy Mills Mall.

My final geometric pattern is Rhodes Stadium, in Katy, which shows off it’s striped parking lot as much as it’s oval shaped grounds and rectangular field.

Whew! This last leg was tough, with a lot of turbulence, but having those interesting things to look at made it easier. Total distance covered was 225 miles, and in the air for 3 hours 36 minutes.

Upon reflection, it seemed unlikely we would be able to fly 90 miles or more in a given direction and find a group of campers out in the wild, so it’s even more amazing that it was so easy.

 

Note:  If you enjoyed this or any of my other blog entries, I suggest you subscribe to this blog so that you are automatically notified when I make a new entry.  Go to the top of this page, and look along the left side for the subscription field.

Mustang Beach

September 6, 2003

It has been a busy, but pleasant summer in Houston and surrounds, and September arrived with little change in that long streak of good weather. The group of flyers at Bailes had talked about planning a big trip to Mustang Island, flying with several other groups in the SE Texas area, but I just couldn’t wait. So I fired up my brother, Rick and John Reilly and persuaded them to make the long trek down the coastline to Mustang Island.

If you’ve followed along on my earlier trips, and if you glance at the map at the top, you’ll see that most of the territory had been covered on several other trips. It was that last little bit past the Matagorda Lighthouse that I hadn’t yet covered. But this would be the day!

I got an early start, with wheels up around 6am, and on my entry into the airspace around Bailes, I was greeted by Pastor Dave, flying along in his Quicksilver.

A quick landing, handshakes all around, and we were off.

On the way to the coast, I noticed a ferryboat, sitting up a river several miles from the coast. My guess is that it is being (or has been) mothballed.

As we approached the Gulf waters, I took advantage of the early morning lighting to get this silhouette of Rick in his Buccaneer.

Soon we were paralleling the beach, approaching a familiar grouping of houses in the Sargent Beach area, near Caney Creek.

Ahead and below me, flocks of brown pelican fly just above the water and dive for their morning meal.

The wind is warm, the familiar landscape passes by, I keep watch for my flying buddies and, soon enough, I see Pierce Field in the distance.

Its long, concrete runway beckons me…

…it’s there to be used and it misses the days during World War II when the plodding bombers would practice their touch-n-go’s. But we have another destination, today.

I was flying over the salt grass to get a better shot of Pierce, so to my left, now, is Rick, flying over the Colorado River jetty.

The water is already looking bluer and cleaner. The backflow from the Gulf Stream usually carries sandy water up toward Freeport and Galveston, but this far south it starts to clear up. Looking to my right, I can easily see across the narrow width of Matagorda peninsula, to the calmer waters of Matagorda Bay with Port O’Conner in the distance.

It seems many people are out enjoying the Bay on this pleasant Saturday morning.

We’re close to passing over from the peninsula to the island. We approach the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge and see the black, decapitated body of the old Matagorda Lighthouse.

You’ll forgive me if I take a lot of photos of it, as I don’t get down here too often! Click here for a pop-up window showing some history about the lighthouse.

A bit further down the island and we see the buildings that mark one of the rarely used runways within the Refuge. I’m not sure if it’s used at all, but from a distance it seemed to be in good condition.

Below me in the water are thousands of white jellyfish. A recent storm seems to have blown them into the area.  (Kind of a blurry shot… sorry!)

They have been spotted as far as 7 miles inland! Today they are almost a carpet. Up ahead on the beach is a long-forgotten derelict of a boat. And then, some activity on the beach, with heavy-equipment and a truck. Probably Refuge personnel doing some work. Off to my left, out a few miles, one of the many oil or natural gas rigs, sitting steadily in the shallow water.

Derelict
Heavy equipment
Rig

Soon we come across two boats, doing some kind of shallow water work, but we could not figure out what they were up to. Being much busier than I thought we would be, we find yet another derelict on the beach. It’s a sad sight.

Shallow water work
Another derelict

Our destination is approaching… I’ve fallen a bit behind — taking pictures, of course! — and I get a bonus… this shot of the three ultralight flyers: Jim, John and Rick in the air in front of me!

To the right, ahead, is the wildlife refuge airport; but it, too, is out of bounds for us. It has a very nice runway.

Another mile or two and Matagorda Island has given way to St. Joseph Island. In the distance I see the Aransas Pass Light Station.

Click here for an external link to a web page about the lighthouse.

Seeing the lighthouse meant we were approaching Aransas Pass, and right on the other side is Mustang Island and the town of Port Aransas.

The channel that goes out to the west is Corpus Christi channel.

As I pass over the North Jetty, I start to wonder where the airport is.

On the radio I hear my flying buddies start to announce their approach, and as I watch them my eye is led to the airport. Soon enough I find myself lining up for approach. If you look closely, you’ll see that Jim, John and Rick are already on the runway, or taxiing.

On my approach, I take a quick shot to my right, looking back the way we came, over the town of Port Aransas.

A breezy touchdown and soon enough I’m parking next to Rick’s Buccaneer, John’s RANS S-12XL, and Jim’s Challenger.

Rick’s Buccaneer
John’s RANS S12-XL
Jim’s Challenger
FBO

We had been told that the FBO building would have information on how to get a trolley into town, so we could have some lunch. But based on the times posted, we had just missed the trolley and would have to wait another 30-45 minutes. So, casting an eye around we spotted a nearby eatery… so we trotted across the sandy and cactus strewn landscape for lunch.

With our bellies full, it was time to feed our flying beasts, but the fuel pump at Mustang Beach Airport would not cooperate. We consulted our map and saw that McCampbell Airport had fuel… just a short hop across Redfish Bay. As I cross over Corpus Christi Channel I take this shot to show that the water in Texas can be beautiful!  (This is one of my all-time favorite shots.)

Ingleside is below me and to my right are two Navy ships being worked on.

At the top of that photo, partially obscured by my sponson, is the Aransas Pass airport. Two miles north of Ingleside, just outside the congested area is McCampbell Airport. It’s big, and has such a big taxiway that it looks like two parallel runways. The runway is almost a mile long, so we land near the center to avoid a lengthy taxi time.

We refuel … cross the broad expanse of Redfish Bay, and now we’re headed back, following the same route as before.

Refueling
Redfish Bay

The beach is now on our left. Jim flies low to inspect one of the derelict boats. And, again, we see the boat and platform, doing something unknown.

Flying low over derelict
Shallow water shenanigans

The Matagorda Lighthouse appears as a lonely sentinel among the grassy dunes…

One last look through my telephoto lens and I can just pick out –on the right — the cemetery where many of the former lighthouse keepers are laid to rest.

Soon we see Pierce Field again — I catch Jim flying over it — easy to pick out among the green grass surrounding it.

A bit further down the beach, John decides to break off and fly to Bay City to refuel. Jim decides to follow him but, before he does, he takes this shot of me flying over a boat just off the beach.

Rick and I had a lot further to go than Jim or John, so we flew along the beach a little further then headed north toward IWS.

About 45 minutes later, as I flew past Sugarland Airport, I grabbed this shot of downtown Houston, showing the Galleria area on the left, and the Greenway Plaza area just below downtown.

As a bonus, I got lucky enough to spot my house during my approach to West Houston. It’s pretty hard to pick it out so I was happy I got this opportunity.

Total distance: 454 miles, and over 7 hours in the air. Whew! What a great trip!

 

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Ferrying My New Plane, The Aventura_

August 17-19, 2002

Click here to see a larger view of the map.

It’s a lo-o-o-ng story about how I ended up buying an Aventura…

…but suffice it to say that this plane has several attributes I find attractive. The one I bought was in Panama City, Florida, and I had to get it back to Houston. Needless to say, it wasn’t just a trip, it was an adventure! (Ok, that was pretty corny. But, if I was really corny, I suppose I’d have called this “My Adventure in My Aventura”, but I didn’t, so there!)

The original plan: Drive to Panama City, somehow, and fly the plane directly back in one day. It didn’t quite work out that way.

Although I’ve been a dedicated ultralight pilot, I did not yet have my private pilots license (PPL). And since the Aventura was an N-numbered, registered aircraft, I needed someone with a PPL to help me fly it back. That someone was Steve Croy, a co-worker who’s been flying, well, forever, practically. He also has a tail-wheel airplane so the taildragger experience was helpful.

My brother, Jim, earned his “above and beyond” award simply by volunteering to drive us to Panama City on Saturday. Since he needed to be back at work on Monday, he would then have to turn around the next morning and drive all the way back. The things he did on the way back earned him a much higher award, for which there is no name.

I think Steve didn’t know what he was getting himself into! But he was a trooper and earned my gratitude.

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Saturday morning, early, we three climbed into Jim’s Acura and headed East along Interstate-10. A mere 12 hours later, we pulled into Panama City, Florida, tired but ready to see the plane. We found our way to the Sea Dragon Pirate Cruise pier in Panama City Beach.

This is where we were to meet Andy Redmond, the current owner of the Aventura. He runs a family-oriented pirate cruise with this fantastic ship.

It was fun to watch it slowly approach, with the sounds of cannon fire, pirates saying “ARRRRRRRR”, and the laughter and happy squeals of the little kids. Soon enough, all the guests had disembarked, and we headed over to the Panama City International Airport.

This is where I get my first good look. We spent about an hour going over every inch of the plane, while Andy explained the workings.

After our preview, we head off to eat at a local steak house, and then to the motel and a good nights sleep. It would be another long day on Sunday.

Sunday morning I woke up early enough to go over all the things I’m taking along on the trip. After 15 minutes of arranging and rearranging, I slowly became aware that I had left my camera in the restaurant… oh NO! My longest trip just ahead of me, and no way to document it! And, of course, the restaurant didn’t open until noon. Ugh.

Well, I didn’t even have time to moan and groan about it, we were due at the airport.

Jim forced me to pause long enough for a quick photo of the proud new owner, and then Steve and Andy take off for a familiarization flight.

It doesn’t take long before they are back, and we make some final plans using the sectional. Andy goes over, again, the critical information such as take off speed, cruise speed, techniques for landing, etc. We finally get the paperwork done — the ownership is transferred — and we stand together for one final group photo.

We’re off!

The first leg of the trip was supposed to take us along the coast, past Destin, to a small airport called Roy E. Ray, south of Mobile, Alabama. We flew along the coast, enjoying the blue-green water and white sand beaches, but we also noticed the growing clouds all around. Just as we were about to pass up Destin, a wall of clouds decided to plop down in front of us.

Behind us it was still okay, but when we looked to the right (toward the north) we could see rain clouds. Luckily, we could also see the runway at Destin Airport. We did a quick 270-degree turn, announced our intentions and did a straight-in landing, south-to-north. On the very northern end of that very long runway, it was raining. Where we landed, it was still dry, but not for long. We taxied the plane to the tie-down area and, only a minute after we shut down the engine, the skies opened up.

We ran for the terminal building, and didn’t get too wet. Once there, though, I realized the interior was getting wet… we hadn’t had time to fasten the cover! So, I ran back out to the plane in the downpour, managed to seek some shelter under the wing, all the while pulling out the cover and covering the doors. By the time I finished, and ran back to the terminal, I was soaked.

Being wet was the humiliating twist to having our trip cut short so soon after it began. I sat in the terminal waiting area, in a blue funk.

The pilots lounge had a weather terminal, so every 15 minutes I’d hop up and see what the status was. There were times it wasn’t even raining, but we could see from the radar screen — and by looking down the runway — that we were still boxed in.

When we landed, I had called Jim and he wasn’t too far away, so he decided to join us in Destin. While waiting on the weather, we jumped in his car and made a quick run down to a diner and got something to eat. Thank goodness he was there! (And I must mention that he took most of  these pictures, too!)

Although tempted to just throw in the towel for the day, I decided to stick close and wait for an opening. After almost 3 hours, we finally decided to head directly north, away from the coast. It seemed the clouds and rain were concentrated along the water, and we could see from the radar that there was a nice, clear corridor due north of the airport. So, off we went!

At this point, I’m going to have to rely on maps to tell some of the story. Take a gander at this map of the area just north of Destin.

You’d have to be blind not to see the huge Eglin Air Force base! The sectional was very specific about communications protocol, and how to get guidance through this area. Thankfully it was a Sunday. The place was totally devoid of any visible activity, but that didn’t alter the surge of adrenaline we got as we flew directly over the airfield! We could see several fighter jets, large transport planes, and other various military hardware, scattered among the hangars. That was quite a sight!

We were vectored to Crestview, but we cut the corner a bit since we had pretty much cleared the weather. Occasionally, we had to steer to the north a bit due to a questionable cloud. On a few occasions we got a few raindrops on the windshield, but for the most part we stayed well clear of anything even remotely resembling a thunderhead.

If I expand the map a bit…

…you can see the entire 2nd leg of our trip. After clearing the weather around Destin, we headed north, then west, making a large, slight curve around the Mobile area. We were constantly checking the sectional and the GPS for the closest airport, ready to divert on a moments notice. Steve was nervous about the amount of fuel, but I could easily see the fuel level in the tank, and I was familiar with the consumption rate on Rotax engines.

There were a few rough spots where we encountered some heavy turbulence — right after Bay Minette — and we considered turning toward the Bay Minette airport, but we pressed on, and crossed the entire width of the state of Alabama, and cruised on in to Mississippi. We finally decided on landing at the Griffin Memorial Airport at Wiggins.

The Airport/Facility Directory said we needed to call ahead to get fuel at Griffin, but as we announced our presence and intentions on the radio, we received an unsolicited reply that there would be someone there to refuel us. Now, that’s hospitality!

The landing Steve had made at Destin was a little off, but not bad at all. Griffin was a different beast, though. The runway seemed to be on the crest of a hill. So, the northern part was uphill, and just after the halfway point, it was downhill. Pretty strange stuff for flatlanders like us! That configuration made you think the runway was closer than it was. You could see the far end sloping away, so it was easy to think the touchdown point would also be going downhill, and thus had to be higher than it was.

Well, enough of the explanations. Steve hit kind of hard, but no damage was done. I’m not complaining… he was doing a splendid job considering the newness of the plane and the oddness of the runway!

The gents that met us at the fuel pump were as friendly as they come. Like most people who see the Aventura, they were definitely curious. The small shack that was the pilots lounge was air conditioned — it was very hot that day, for some reason — and they had candy bars and soft drinks. We stayed long enough to enjoy both, as well as a little hangar flying in the cool air.

Soon enough, we were topped off and on our way. Again, we were playing it by ear, not really sure how far we’d get. In general, we kept to about the same latitude and just kept heading west. Before long, we crossed the Pearl River and into Louisiana. We wanted to angle to the southwest, but the large cloud banks in the distance to the south kept us heading west.

By now the air seemed to have calmed down a bit and we were simply enjoying the flight. There was very little in the way of cities or airports, so there wasn’t much to watch out for. As we approached Baton Rouge, we made a decision to press on for the west side, and finally settled on False River. Skirting the very northern edge of the Baton Rouge Class B airspace, we passed near a nuclear power plant right on the Mississippi River, and spotted False River Airport as the sky fell to dusk.

When we were at Wiggins, Miss., I had called Jim and told him we were going to try to make it to Acadiana International Airport, near Lafayette. However, since we couldn’t angle our route to the southwest, it became pretty clear as we flew along toward Baton Rouge that we weren’t going to make that destination. As soon as we landed at False River, I called him. He was already most of the way to Lafayette, when means he was way past us.

I told him to go on home, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He turned around, headed north and ended up getting lost on some of the backwoods roads, surrounded by sugarcane so high he couldn’t see any landmarks. What’s worse, his GPS stopped working so he made several wrong turns before he finally made it to False River to collect us.

It was late when he finally arrived, and we had been told that the restaurants in the area had shut down. It was, after all, a Sunday night! But we drove into New Roads and found a small bar/casino that had a tiny restaurant in the back. They …

…were open, thank goodness! After a quick but hearty meal, we got directions to a local motel and turned in.

The next morning, we woke before dawn and Jim got us to the airport. I uncovered the Aventura to prepare it for flight, and then did my usual pre-flight check. Even before the sun was over the horizon, we were in the air.

Uncovering
Pre-flight
Up, up and away!

It was a stunning sight, to see the mighty Mississippi River from the air, so early in the morning. The air was cool and humid, the colors from the dawn reflected in the ripples on the water, and a light fog settled in the dales and burrows of the countryside. It was a sight to remember for a lifetime.

The weather was better, so we started to angle down toward Lake Charles. We crossed the great Atchafalaya River, then passed Opelousas and over-flew the airport there, and pressed on. Although we could have easily made Beaumont, we were still playing it conservative and landed at Southland Field, on the southwest side of Lake Charles.

The folks at Southland not only were helpful, but they were gracious enough to loan us a car. We quickly made a couple of stops to get something quick to eat, then headed back. It’s yet another airport I can highly recommend for its hospitality and services.

I called my brother to let him know we were doing just great, and I insisted he head on home. He’d already gone way above and beyond…!

We were now closer to the coast than we had been since we left Destin, and the clouds were again starting to form. We picked our way around the larger formations, spent quite a bit of time over some inland waterways and lots of marshland, and passed so close to one rain shower I felt like I could have put my hand out and it would have gotten wet!

We were helped through the Port Arthur area with some flight-following, and made that final westerly turn toward Houston. Soon we were in an area I had flown in before, so my comfort level was definitely improving. The air had become very buffeting, however, so my comfort level quickly returned to “normal.” Plus we were about to “fly the corridor” between Houston Intercontinental and Houston Hobby. This would be my first time.

It’s not difficult to fly the corridor, but you simply have to keep a keen eye on your altitude, heading, other traffic, and try to fly the plane in turbulent conditions, and, oh yeah, enjoy the scenery, too! All I can say is: it was awesome!

Before I knew it, I could see my neighborhood in the distance, and West Houston Airport was straight in front of us. After a quick announcement on the radio, we made our approach and we were on the ground at our destination! After a quick taxi, I see — true to form — my brother is awaiting us! We pull up to the T-cover and he’s waiting to take our picture. Not exactly conquering heroes returning from war, but it just felt like it!

We left so early that morning, that a quick glance at my watch shows it’s only noon! I carefully tie her down and “put her to bed” under her new T-cover then head home for a long nap.

Here’s the overall map, again.

Approximately: 10 hours of flight time, and about 662 statute miles covered.

Whew!

 

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