Posted Fri Jul 1 21:27:59 EDT 2022
Those are the words spoken to me by the weather briefer about 20 minutes ago. I'm in Moultrie, GA, my second stop on my "actually making progress" day. It's about 3:30 in the afternoon, and all would be well, if only it weren't pouring buckets outside. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
In the last entry, I'd left off talking about my training flight with Scott. We landed at Bartow (BOW) and got fuel, and I got my slightly jangling nerves under control. We talked about going over to a grass airstrip near his farm, but eventually realized that what I really needed to work on was pavement landings, so we stayed at Bartow.
Thus commenced a long series of takeoffs and landings. My takeoffs got better and better, but my landings stayed resolutely not-very-good. I consistently came in too fast (better than too slow, at least), and flared far too high. The resulting slam onto the runway was embarrassing every single time. One of my initial landings, I really surprised myself by how much taller the Charger felt compared to the Champ. That impression stuck resolutely with me, and to this moment, I haven't had more than a tiny handful of decent landings.
It'll get better, but it's notable to me how bad I am at adjusting my thinking on this.
We finished up around lunchtime, returning to X49 for a couple more juddering too-high landings before calling it good. Not that I was happy with where I found myself, skills-wise, but it was clear that there wasn't much Scott could really do for me, I just needed to practice a lot on my own, and adjust my brain to the new plane.
Scott drove me over to a Mexican restaurant he knew, and we debriefed over a taco-based lunch. He gave me a bunch of helpful suggestions for places to stop on the way, as he does this kind of ferry work quite a bit. He even recommended a good outdoor store I should check out in my quest to find a rain fly to have in lieu of a full tent (which I'd found to be too heavy), called Andy Thornall. I drove out to check it out, without realizing quite how far away it was. It was worth a trip, but probably not just at that moment in time.
I was trying to solve a number of problems. First, I had left my flare gun at home, since airlines won't allow them, so I wanted to pick up a new one. My dad recommended getting some Spectra cord, as being a lightweight and very useful thing to have. I wanted to find that rain fly (though in retrospect, that wasn't the best choice, since one of the main reasons I wanted a tent originally was to keep the bugs at bay, and the tarp won't help at all). I was hoping to find a UPS store or Fedex store to ship a few things home: the plane came with a couple headsets and soft helmets that have seen better days, and all the logs and such don't need to travel with me. The plane also had a spare starter key, but no spare for the baggage compartment, so I wanted to get some extras made.
In fact, I managed to get myself out to the outdoor store (which was pretty cool, though I didn't have time to explore) and a West Marine in inland Florida. This means that they have basically no sailing supplies, it's all fishing and power-boating. Since Spectra is apparently a sailboat thing, they didn't have it. They did have a flare gun for me, at least.
Although I still had some stuff I wanted to get done, a glance at the sky on the way back suggested that I had another hour of flying I could do, which would be good for my landing technique (goes the theory). So rather than do my various errands, I returned to X49, and got the plane out. I had a moment, wondering if I could really handle moving it around by myself, with the way that hangar is set up. But, roll it out I did, and put another 0.7 hours on the logs, and another 4 landings. I even managed getting the plane back into the hangar all on my lonesome, which was a little victory.
By the time I finished that final jaunt, it was already getting pretty late. I still needed to eat dinner, and check my packing plan for the morning, and a couple other things. In short, I didn't have enough time, and I was feeling it.
By the time I managed to get everything done, it was far later than I wanted it to be, so I skipped out on a few things (like writing), and was once again in bed around midnight, with a plan to wake up much too early (but less too-early this time, only 6:30 or 7 this time, as I recall).
The plan for Thursday was to head south to meet up with Bill, one of the folks I know from the Biplane Forum. He's around an hour south of Lakeland, and it seemed silly to be that close without dropping in to say hi.
My hope was to launch early, but that was thwarted by errands. I still wanted to ship my logs and excess headsets home, and really wanted to make a couple spare keys. Having a single key for anything makes me nervous. Leslie very kindly offered to drive me back from the rental car office in Lakeland, to the airport with all my stuff. So I headed out and hit the UPS store and the hardware store, though the UPS store took a while, as I'd forgotten to photograph all the logs. I knew I had some of them, but I wasn't sure I had a backup for everything. (BTW, Leslie, I forgot to actually give you gas money, and I'll be fixing that ASAP.)
Missions variously accomplished, we returned to the airport, me with Ivan the dog on my lap the whole way. He's a very sweet dog. Leslie was suitably pleased at the sight of my plane, and waited around to shoot a video of my takeoff and turn to the south, which was pretty cool.
I was glad to have attempted my loading plan the night before. There were a few little tricks to the loading that went better for having tried it once. I put all the heavy stuff into the drybag, which was going to be strapped into the front seat. This is good for balance, since I want as little weight in the baggage compartment as possible. (The tricks aren't very tricky, it was mostly knowing that the seat's harness wouldn't hold the bag, so I didn't bother trying.)
Preflight complete, checklists checked, and bags loaded and secured, I rolled it out of its South Lakeland hangar for the final time. After a double-check to make sure I didn't leave anything behind, I locked the doors, and committed myself to my departure.
Fortunately, I was already used to the procedure for normal operations, so it was not eventful to get myself out to the runway. It still felt significant this time, since this may well be the last time I ever see the X49 runway. With no wind forcing the decision, I taxied down to the far end of the runway so that Leslie would have a good angle for my takeoff.
Make the call: "South Lakeland traffic, biplane six four five lima charlie taking runway 32, departure to the south." Final check of gauges: oil pressure good, oil temperature good (this plane has fantastic oil gauges, I really like them). Voltage good. Fuel pressure good. Mixture full rich. Nothing for it but to move the lever from "quiet" to "noisy".
Forward goes the throttle. The wind over the windscreen increases, pummelling the top of my helmet (swapped to the cloth helmet after I realized how hot it was). Forward with the stick, pick up the tail. Right rudder! Keep that nose from swinging to the left. Back with the stick as the tail comes up, and ease away from the ground. The bumping over rough grass stops as the wheels are suddenly hanging from the plane, rather than supporting its entire weight. The ground falls away. We are airborne, this nameless plane and I.
Off to the right, I see some neighbors on the airpark, watching my departure. I wave to them. I see Leslie to the right as well, nearer the far end of the runway, and wave to her too. She waves back, as did the neighbors. I don't see her dog Ivan, but he's probably absolutely fascinated by some new and exhilarating scent somewhere I can't see. I'm already more than a hundred feet in the air as the prop claws through the air, sending us up at around 1000 feet per minute.
And with that, I'm off. The official start of Operation Fly From Florida to Seattle is underway.
In a way, the actual flight to the Ft Meyers area was disappointingly uneventful. It was my first time spending a substantial amount of time in the plane, where I wasn't highly distracted by everything going on. With no landings to concentrate on, I was finally able to start to integrate what the experience of flying this insane distance I've taken on will be like.
Over the course of the next few flights (I've forgotten exactly when I made each discovery, so you get them all at once), I discovered the following interesting facts:
These are the answers to many of the questions I had before I set out on this journey. I'm sure I'll find more answers as I go.
The arrival at Bill's airport was pretty good, marred by only two things: I didn't know what frequency they used for announcing traffic, so I made an educated guess, but had no clue if anyone was hearing me; and my landing was substantially the worst one I've done so far, and I flared many feet off the runway, dropping it hugely on to the landing gear. Of course that's my landing when someone I know is watching.
In my very slight defense, his airpark's runway is quite narrow, and I had horrible visions of careening off into a ditch, on both landing, and my subsequent takeoff. I claim that as part of my distraction that led to dropping the poor plane in from nearly a full person-height. I've got to get a handle on that problem.
The actual visit with Bill was pretty cool. He's a very knowledgeable person, and is always helpful and supportive on the forum. He was even working on a problem I'd mentioned recently, and had built a Charger aileron bellcrank in his CAD program, where he was trying to solve a messy plans error (of which there are many, though they're mostly pretty minor).
He showed me around his shop, which is quite impressive, being an enormous hangar. He has all the heavy-metal machine tools I wish I had, and had prepared a number of demonstrations of how to do a particular operation I'd been working on in my most recent Charger build hours. It was a great time, and I'm really glad I made the time to drop down and visit him.
However, soon enough, it was time to turn back north, and properly start on the homeward journey. I taxied out, and after some confusion about which direction he was recommending I take off with no wind like we had, and a near run-in with a little yard sign perfectly poised to rip a hole in my lower-right wing, I lined myself up on runway 27, and made a pretty decent take-off. I managed to keep my side-to-side excursions within the necessary limits, and got off the ground before either of my wheels could find a ditch.
The return flight is something of a blur. I had aimed myself to a field north of Bartow, but realized that my tailbone soreness actually made Bartow (where I'd already refueled a time or two) a good place to stop for fuel before continuing on. So, I dropped into Bartow, tanked up, and spent a few minutes in the blissfully cool terminal building looking at weather before heading out again.
I decided I'd head for Williston (X60) as my final stop of the night. It was around 6 when I headed out, and after I got up and saw what was ahead of me, in the form of a lot of darker clouds than I liked the look of, I decided to turn around and spend the night in Bartow.
When I got down, I called the FBO to see about getting a hangar space, once I'd gotten the tank full (all 2.3 gallons worth, out of the plane's 36 gallon capacity). The phone message greeted me pleasantly enough, but then dropped the bomb: they closed at 6, and an after-hours callout would be $100 for the first hour. Having no clue how else I was supposed to get the plane into a hangar as one of those ominous thunderstorms marched past just south of the field, I hit the callout number, but chickened out before leavig a $100 message.
I'd had a thought: Scott mentioned that he might be able to help me out if I found myself in a spot, so I figured I'd give him a call, and see if he knew how to find hangar space without dragging someone out of their cozy 7 pm bed.
To my surprise, Scott said he was about 5 minutes away from the Bartow airport, having just left, and that he had space in his own hangar! The coincidences here are too numerous to be ignored. Dunno what they add up to, but it was pretty cool. He was even able to give me a ride to a hotel, and his son Barron was willing to bring me to the airport in the morning, since I was basically right on his way. An offer that was literally too good to refuse. He led me back to his hangar, and we pushed the plane into place. He closed up the hangar, and dropped me off at a Hampton Inn, where I wrote the previous entry of this massive missive, before my quite early 6 am pickup.
I still stayed up too late, but I got a bunch of necessary stuff done, and was up in time for Barron. I even managed to lever some Hampton breakfast into my face before we went. Unfortunately, I missed a bunch of attempts at contact from Barron, since my phone was set to silent before what is normally a very reasonably 7:30 am. We figured it out, but I felt silly having missed a text and a phone call.
Ok, I know this thing is getting lengthy, but if I can get through today, I'll be all caught up, and future entries won't be so novel-length. Strap in.
As I alluded to, the day started at 5:15. I was hoping to hit the start of the free breakfast at 6, hoping that Barron would be leaving his house at 6 as advertised, so I'd have a few minutes for breakfast. I'd stayed up past midnight again, so I definitely didn't get enough sleep, but I did get up with the alarm, and managed to muddle my way through getting packed and ready, and was down to the breakfast room right at 6, when they started serving.
Breakfast hastily consumed, I met up with Barron moments after I realized I'd missed both a text and a phone call from him, since my phone was set to silent. But meet we did, and we were on our way. He dropped me off at Scott's hangar, and left me to my own devices, being on a timely errand himself.
The preflight inspection revealed a bunch of screws in the engine cowling that were working themselves loose, so I set about with a screwdriver. I'll be checking them tomorrow, hopefully they didn't all back themselves out again. Packing was somewhat muddled, but I eventually figured it out. The problem yesterday was that I'd managed to pack my food bag into the drybag, which was somewhat elaborately strapped into the seat, and when it came time to eat lunch, I didn't feel like undoing all the attachments to eat, so I just had lunch out of the cooler. Non-ideal. This morning's pack made a lot more sense, though it put noticeably more weight in the baggage compartment. Fortunately, that's balanced by the fact that I don't enjoy going more than an hour and a half between stops, plus the unexpectedly low fuel burn, which means the balance problems I was worried about just aren't going to happen.
I finally got the engine started just after 8, and was in the air without undue delay. I decided to head for X60 again, for my first stop. It was a good stop yesterday, so why not today? Where yesterday, going down to visit Bill, I'd been cruising at 4500 feet, the clouds today dictated that I stay lower. Despite the lower clouds, it was interesting to experience how much smoother the air was in the morning.
Williston proved to be a fine stop. The self-serve fuel was back behind a building, so I had to ask where to find it, but after fueling up, I went into the office to use the bathroom. There, I spotted the best thing: a dark room with big comfy recliners. I found myself going a little cross-eyed as I tried to read the weather briefing, so I repaired to the nap room, and had myself a little power-nap (all adult spaces should have nap rooms). After about 20 minutes, I got myself going again, thanking the office folks as I went out. Back into the plane, and we were off again, this time for Moultrie (MGR).
This flight was longer, and I found myself dodging some thunderstorms as I flew north. There was a line of them running roughly east-to-west across my path, but there was plenty of space between them. It was interesting to me that I saw them on the weather display on my tablet before I was aware of them out the window. So I was already aimed away as the solid-looking column of water formed and started stomping across the landscape like some kind of angry giant. It was truly impressive to see that density of water falling out of the sky as if water didn't weigh 8 pounds per gallon, and should not logically be able to exist in such quantities up in the air.
I finally found Moultrie, and started my descent. A clear, bell-like voice answered my initial radio call, telling me the conditions at the field. That was pretty cool. I landed (once again flaring too high, and stomping in where I should be easing in), and taxied up to the attentive line guy, who directed me to a stop, then drove the truck over to fill the tanks. I was worried that the truck service would be expensive (it's usually a dollar or more extra per gallon), but MGR's gas was only $6.17 per gallon, the cheapest I've paid in over a month.
I went in to the wonderfully cool FBO office, and was immediately offered a restroom. Instead, I wanted water to fill up my backpack, and before long I had retrieved my lunch from the plane, since it was already after 1 pm when I arrived. I dallied a bit over lunch, enjoying the lack of pressure on my tailbone, and spent some time trying to figure out my next stop. Eventually, with the help of the woman behind the counter, I settled on ALX, in Alexander City, GA. It was already 2:45 when I made the decision, but I grabbed all my stuff and re-loaded the plane as I called the weather briefer.
This was roughly the point at which I heard the words that started out this enormous, rambling entry: Oh no, sir, you're not going anywhere. There were thunderstorms developing in every direction. VFR flight not recommended. Do not go up in the air, sir. Hunker down.
I looked up at the sky, and had to concede that the briefer had a point. There were lots of towering clouds out there. A few minutes later, the lineman asked if I wanted to put my plane in the hangar in case it started raining. I agreed, so I taxied it over to the hangar, and we pushed it in just as a few drops started falling.
Then, the heavens opened, and it was like something from a movie. So much rain. Huge buckets of rain, falling hard. Someone came in from their plane they'd landed in what must have been insane conditions, and at a dead sprint over the 20 foot distance, he was half soaked. The lineman, who directed him in, and set his chocks, had a good jacket on, but his shoes were submerged under the water running over the pavement. The noise was impressive.
I thought it might pass through quickly, but somehow, it just kept coming. That storm I'd passed earlier looked like it was taking maybe 5-10 minutes to pass over any given point, but this cloud opened up, and just kept going for something like an hour. I've only ever seen that much rain once, in Hawaii, when I was a kid.
Eventually, around 5 pm, I realized there was no way I was leaving today. I asked what the hangar would cost ("First night's free, since you bought fuel" -- awesome!), and got the keys to a crew car. The later-shift lineman gave me instructions to get to town, and I made my way out in my borrowed F150 truck.
And thus do I find myself here, finally caught up with my story. I hit the supermarket for some more take-with-me food, and decided I'd just do my bread/cheese/tomato default food for dinner. I also had a big bottle of Gatorade, since I strongly suspected I was dehydrated. Sure enough, that nasty salty-juice flavor was exactly right. I was pretty empty, and it went down in more or less one gulp.
I've been writing since about 6, and it's after 9 pm now. Breakfast opens at 7, which is perfect timing, as the MGR office opens at 7:30. So I'll roll up, load the plane, and assuming I don't have to sit there and tighten a couple dozen screws in the cowling, I should be set to launch around 8 am again. I'll miss an hour of good morning flying, but this is a fun trip, not a punishing one, and I didn't want to make them show up extra-early on my account.
With any luck, I can get myself to Little Rock for my second social visit by the end of the day. The planning app says that's 5 hours and 22 minutes away, but that means it's at least 6 hours of flying time, since I'm not going to be excited about legs longer than 2 hours. Might be a stretch to get all the way to Little Rock tomorrow. Have to see how the weather treats me, and how my poor tailbone is feeling. Perhaps having a goal will motivate me.
In any case, now it is time to upload this novel-length missive, and get myself to bed so I can catch up on some of the sleep I've been missing in the last few days. Then, bright and early breakfast and departure in the morning. Watch the flight trackers, should be a flying-ful day.
G'night, friends!
Copyright © 2022 by Ian Johnston.