Posted Tuedsay, April 5, 2022
Updated Sunday, April 10, 2022
The plan for this trip is to pick up the plane in Florida, fly across the southern US to Los Angeles, then fly up the coast to Seattle, visiting folks along the way. Covid is still a pretty real threat, so avoiding populated indoor spaces as much as possible is the order of the day. Unfortunately, flying across the southern US in June means I'll probably be there for peak rattlesnake season in the southwest, and peak heat and humidity in the southeast, so indoor spaces will hold a counterbalancing appeal.
Preparing for a trip of this magnitude presents some interesting challenges. It's going to be hot on the ground, but potentially quite cold up in the air, so I'll have to pack for a variety of temperatures: the open cockpit means you get really intimate with the air temperature, pretty much no matter what. I'll be out for two weeks, and probably flying into some remote airports, but I should have access to laundry facilities many of the places I stop, so my clothing load can be relatively light.
I'll be bringing a tent, sleeping bag, and sleeping pad, to stay outside and away from people when possible. I'll be bringing a small boatload of electronics to keep myself safe and entertained. I'll pack a certain amount of emergency food and water, as well as tools, spare parts, and supplies, in case this new-to-me plane conks out somewhere far from anywhere (and I'm going to be covering a lot of "far from anywhere" ground once I'm into Texas and points west).
On top of all that, I have to keep myself fed and hydrated from non-emergency supplies, and I'll need to rest between hops. Flying open cockpit is much more taxing than flying with an enclosed cabin.
Unlike with Norbert the Champ, I won't be able to reach much of anything in flight. My baggage will be either in the baggage section behind the pilot's seat, or strapped into the passenger seat. This is good from a distraction standpoint, but annoying from a practicality standpoint. No grabbing a snack to eat midair.
Beyond what to bring, there's also how to plan the route. My starting point is the great circle route from the Florida panhandle to Los Angeles, and then following the major valleys from LA to Seattle. The first leg puts me right past Dallas, as well as pretty near Phoenix, but also sends me through some large areas without many airports. I'll almost certainly deviate from the great circle path, just so I can put myself in the way of more places to land in an emergency. Landing in more populated areas increases the chance of finding somewhere to eat and laundry faclities, but can also be more complicated than a little airport in the middle of nowhere.
With 36 gallons (this Charger has a 26 gallon main tank, and 10 gallons in the wing tanks), I have a theoretical 4.5 hour range, which should work out to around 450 miles, with no wind. That means I could potentially fly up to 3.5 hours and land with my required 1 hour reserve. That's a pretty decent leg length, and should keep me out of most trouble, though I'll still need to be conscious of my path so I don't run into problems like I did in Montana in 2019.
My plan is to do three 2-hour legs each day that I'm trying to cover ground, but I don't know how realistic that is. The open cockpit environment is a wildcard, and it may be so uncomfortable I need to take long breaks between each hop, or it may be so awesome that I want to do 8 hours a day instead. It's hard to know, until I've spent some time flying from the pilot's seat.
The reason I'm not just tracing a diagonal line across the country is so I can visit people I don't get to see too often: my brother in LA, and a bunch of family and friends up and down the West Coast. What a great opportunity to drop in and say hi, and to show off my new biplane!
Of course, with that comes planning and logistics. I haven't done much with that yet, other than alerting the people I'll be near that I'm making the trip. I included a timeline, but it got hilariously vague as it went on: I might or might not leave Florida on a particular day. Crossing from Florida to LA might take four days, or it might take seven. I could stay with one person for several days, or visit three in one day. Add on to that the wildcard of weather, and it's literally impossible to predict where I'll be on any given day, except the first few days in Florida.
Communication will be key, and this little chunk of the website will probably be among the best resources for figuring out where I am, and how quickly I'm making progress: I plan to post an entry every day of the trip, like I did with my trip to Oshkosh.
Watch this space for futher updates.
Copyright © 2022 by Ian Johnston.