Mechanical Update
Posted Fri Jul 8 07:01:51 PDT 2022
I found a mechanic who seems to have time available to check my plugs today, which is great. Hopefully they can see me first thing, I'm expecting a call any minute now. (Update, 2 minutes later: they just called, can see me first thing. Woot!)
The main reason I started this entry so early, though, was because I was just amused at the ridiculousness of my route to LA from here:
Update to the update: Nope. The company I called, despite being listed on the Ryan Field directory, and having a Ryan Field address, is located at Tucson International. I guess I could fly over there, but come on. More phone calls to make.
One 1.9 hour flight later....
I'm sitting in a little cinder-block building in Gila Bend, AZ. It's the most wonderful little cinder-block building, because it is air-conditioned, and it's somewhere over 100° F out there.
More detail later, but I found a different mechanic (thank you, Ben!) and we pulled things apart to determine that:
- There were three (3) different styles of sparkplug in this engine, for 8 spots
- At least one of them was failing to fire at high pressure (such as when in cruising flight)
- Most of them were old, old Champion plugs, which are famous for falling apart and being generally crappy
Fortunately, Ben was able to scrounge some new Tempest sparkplugs from a friend, and the plane (I really need to settle on a name) now has a complete new set of plugs. Climbing out of Tucson, I could tell the difference. More power on climb, and much less eau de petrol wafting into the cockpit.
So, I made it to Gila Bend, and will be proceeding shortly. Thought you'd like to know what was up, though.
That evening, in Palm Springs, CA...
Hoo boy, it is tired that I am.
Once again, I didn't really get to start until 11 am, which is the exact opposite of everyone's advice. "Go at dawn, then stop until near the end of the day to avoid the midday heat and turbulence." But when your morning is spent elbows-deep in the engine cowling, you don't have much choice, if you want to make any progress.
So, I flew off into the wild blue yonder at 11, after Ben and I got the spark plug situation sorted out. It was already reasonably hot at Ryan Field when I left. When I got to Gila Bend, my first fuel stop in what was supposed to be a shorter day, with more sane leg-lengths, it was 110° F on the ground. After a pleasant lunch stop in the cooled lounge, it was back into the oven, and off we went. I was very glad they had covered parking at Gila Bend, it made my pre-flight... well, calling it "more pleasant" suggests it would have been any level of pleasant which could be increased. More accurately, you could say, "less brutal."
In any case, we launched, and slowly climbed up to 8500 feet. I took it in steps this time, climbing a bit, then leveling off, to try to keep the oil temperatures under some kind of control. Running an air-cooled engine in this environment is an adventure in heat management.
This was especially true at Yuma, my next stop. (Only 99 miles away, lookit me being all gentle on myself! Hah.) The weather system was reporting 42° C, which is 108° F. My little thermometer was showing 110° again. It was so bastard-hot that every part of that stop sucked: the gas nozzle was burning-hot. The static clamp was burning hot. Pushing the plane back by the prop, right at the hub, was even more burning hot.
When I got the plane to the runway, I saw that the cylinder heads were already at 385°, which is the temperature I normally expect in a heavy climb. The oil was already at 160°. I had some misgivings about taking off with everything so hot, but it was either that, or give up and call Yuma my stopping point for the day. The heat kind of decided me against that, so I pressed on. Fortunately, as soon as I was airborne, the cylinder heads cooled right down, and using a gentle climbing regimen, I kept the oil down to 220° or less.
So, aside from cooling, and replacing spark plugs in the morning, the other exciting new development is that the flying wires are getting loose. This is a thing when you take wood from a humid to an arid environment, such as I have just done. Yuma was reporting a temperature/dew-point spread of 42° and -1° C. The wider that spread, the less moisture the air holds. For comparison, in Florida, it was normal to see those two numbers be a degree or two apart, or even the same number. In other words, nearly 100% humidity.
So, it's not a surprise that the wings, which are mostly made of wood, might be changing size a little bit. However, I do need to address the issue, as some of the wires are looking quite badly too loose. I don't think I'm doing any damage, but I have to check in with the biplane folks. Fortunately, I'm flying into prime biplane territory, so my chances of finding someone who can help me out are pretty high.
Because of these loose wires, I spent much of the flight trying to keep wires from vibrating. The forward landing wire remains a favorite for vibration, with the upper left going frequently, and requiring a hard stomp on the right rudder to get it to stop. THe lower right started up today, but that was usually a sign that I was getting a little bit too slow, so that one was easy to fix.
The end effect of all this is that I spent at least as much time flying the wires as I did flying the plane. This is not a tenable situation. Getting those wires properly tensioned is the right solution.
As a result of all this, when I landed at Jaqueline Cochran Regional near Palm Springs, I thought my right knee was going to collapse with every movement, from having to spend so much time putting pressure on it, in just one position. Fortunately, that got better with a little bit of walking around, but once again, I was in 41° C of heat and trying to do all the unpacking I needed to do in order to find a hotel (there was no question I was going to get a hotel room tonight). I was moving at about 1/4 speed, between the heat, and my knee, and the just generally abused feeling of having flown the plane 5.4 hours through rough air, while trying to keep those wires from ringing. I was ready to fall over.
Still, I managed to get it fueled up and parked, so it'll be ready to go in the morning. Naturally I landed at an airport that's far from everything, so I had a long Lyft ride to get to the nearest hotel with rooms available.
Once again, the pilot's lounge came to my rescue. The one at TRM, where I was, was pretty well appointed (I briefly considered staying there, but decided a real bed and a shower were necessary). So well appointed, in fact, that it had an arcade cabinet near the door. It advertised Millipede, but when I fired it up (no quarters necessary), it was actually Ms Pacman. I was terrible at it. Ah well.
But now, I'm at one of the largely interchangeable chain hotels in the area. Fortunately, this one has a couple laundry machines, so I've got a load of laundry going. I'm sure my brother will be appreciative that I don't show up in my stinkiest stinker clothes.
I decided to order delivery pizza for dinner, which was both the best possible idea, and the worst idea, for a few reasons. The only important one right now is that, because I got a late start on the whole thing, it was promised by 9:35, and a call at 9:55 revealed that the store was slammed, and the driver hadn't left yet. So much for going to bed early. But hey, it means this entry gets more of my attention. Oh huzzah, the pizza just arrived. (Nom break.)
One final fun vignette: I discovered that the Lyft driver wouldn't be able to get onto the airport grounds through the gate, so I started walking toward where I'd been informed the gate stood. As I was walking, my phone rang, and it was the driver, saying she couldn't get through the gate.
When I got to the gate, the real problem made itself known: in order to get out, I had to be in a car. There was a sensor loop in the pavement, and my frail human meat body didn't trigger it. There's no person-gate. I had no idea how to get to a place where I could legitimately walk through.
I eyed the end of the gate, though, and it looked like I might be able to squeeze past it. I gave it a try, and sure enough, I could. I awkwardly set my copious baggage on the far side of the gate, through the gap, and then pressed myself through as well. Problem solved, though at some cost for my impression of the airport's security.
I think, for now, that's good. I'm looking forward to getting some sleep tonight. Last night, the pilot's lounge had one serious drawback: any time I shifted position as I slept, its automatic light switch clicked on for five minutes. There didn't appear to be any way to set to "off" instead of "auto," so I ended up being bathed in bright light at intervals through the night.
Copyright © 2022 by Ian Johnston.