Post-Trip Thoughts
Posted Tue Jul 19 11:23:19 PDT 2022
I've now been back for a few days. The plane is as safely tucked away at Harvey Field as it can be. I made a quickie set of intake plugs on Sunday which are Good Enough™. I'm waiting for Harvey to smooth the ramp a little bit so I can actually pull the plane out without having to fire up the engine to do it (there's quite a divot).
Nerd Stuff
First, some quick statistics.
| Total Flight Legs | 39 |
|---|---|
| Total Hours Flown | 57.9 |
| Total Gallons Consumed | 352.147 |
| Total Spent on Fuel | $2446.93 |
| Average Leg Length | 1.5 |
| Average Gallons per Hour | 6.08 |
| Highest Price per Gallon | $8.00 |
| Lowest Price per Gallon | $6.15 |
| Average (mean) Price per Gallon | $6.93 |
I'm a nerd, what can I say?
So, it took a bit over 50 hours to get myself from Florida to Seattle (removing the training and south-then-north hours I did in Florida). I don't have stats on my speeds, but I'm pretty sure I was averaging about 105 mph or so over the whole flight (at least as far as airspeed), so it's reasonable to say I flew about 4550 nm through the air. The actual distance over the ground was 3362.1 nm, so I definitely fought some headwinds along the way.
I discovered numerous issues with the plane as I flew, some of which are:
- The tailwheel spring needs to be re-arched
- The breaker for the cigarette lighter sockets occasionally pops
- The left front landing wire has a divot in it, and needs to be replaced
- The left front landing wire needs to be tweaked a bit: it appears to be misaligned at the top attachment point
- The wing rigging needs to be retuned: the plane rolls to the left in level flight
- The radio's volume control doesn't actually do anything
- The passenger intercom desperately needs a Push To Talk switch
- The front windshield will need to be replaced due to cracks
- The exhaust system is probably rusting out, and will need to be replaced soon
- The aileron pushrod bolts need to be replaced with drilled bolts that can be clevis-pinned
- The left brake needs to be checked due to an odd juddering when lightly applied
- The starter keyswitch should be replaced with something more appropriate
- The mag switches need to be labeled
- The INST. LIGHTS switch needs to be relabeled AVIONICS
- Both compasses need some demagnetizing done around them; the front compass is utterly useless
- The weird "artifical horizon" instrument in the front panel needs to be removed
- The clock in the rear cockpit needs to be repaired or replaced, as it occasionally stops running
- When the starter is engaged, battery voltage drops to 8V, which suggests problems in the system more than it does a dying battery
There's probably more, but that's what rolls off the top of my head, so to speak. Not all of these things are urgent (in fact, most of them aren't), but all will need to be addressed eventually. It's a good list to address once the weather cools down and makes flying less pleasant; though I have plans for how to fly even when it gets chilly out.
I'm going to feel a bit discombobulated with the plane until I can get it back into the hangar at Paine, which is currently occupied by the Champ. Fortunately, it appears the Champ is sold, so it's only a few weeks that I'll be out of the hangar.
Less-Nerdy Stuff
One of the things I usually wonder about before any trip like this is, "What will I learn from this trip?" Experiences like this are inevitably transformative in some way, though frequently I'm not aware of what's changed until weeks or months after the trip. So, my thoughts on this question are somewhat premature, but here's what I've got so far.
I was generally very impressed at the friendliness of everyone I encountered on the trip. There is a narrative in the media right now that there are Two Sides Of The Country And They Hate Each Other. While I suspect this is true from one, quite narrow, perspective, it's not really the truth. The truth is that everyone I encountered treated me like a human being who was worthy of respect. Everyone was friendly, and with the notable exception of the two line workers talking about right-wing conspiracy theories in the next room, I didn't even run into politics on the trip.
This goes double for the Biplane Forum folks, who were not only friendly, but actively helpful, frequently donating their time, energy, resources, and money toward making my trip a better one. I know my flight was closely followed there, and a lot of people were rooting for me, but there's a sizeable gap between "rooting for someone online" and "driving out to help that person with actual work." I got free rides from so many people, help with maintenance, expertise, parts, materials, and supportive words. It was remarkable and noteworthy. Thank you.
This extends to the Twitter friends I arranged to meet as well. I expected that they would be friendly, since we'd already established at least some semblance of an acquaintance online, but everyone was genuinely delightful to hang out with. One never knows what someone else will be like in person, and it was wonderful to be so positively surprised in each case.
My expectations for the more technical (but less nerdy, I suppose) side of the trip were about as I'd expected: the weather was occasionally challenging, and I responded well and poorly to that; the plane had some mechanical challenges, none of which were trip-ending; my scheduling was more or less to-the-day what I'd plotted out in my head. It's interesting how often my initial reaction to any problem is immediately doom-and-gloom, and how often that reaction is unwarranted. I suppose it's nice that things seem to get better after the initial impression.
My initial assessment of my flying skills was more pessimistic than was warranted, which was nice. I was afraid the Charger, a sharper tool than the Champ, would show where my technique was lacking. Certainly that's proven to be true on landings, though I would say it's more true to say that my flexibility was lacking, rather than technique. My skills were perfectly good for the Champ, I just didn't know how to adjust them yet for the Charger. And for the non-landing portions of flight, I'm still feeling pretty good about my skills.
Packing and Gear
It was interesting to note what I reached for repeatedly, and what mostly stayed packed away. Things I used absolutely every day:
- Devices and their charging cables
- Warm-weather clothing
- Food
- Medicines and toiletries
- Sun hat and sun sleeves/legs
- Sunscreen
- Engine oil and funnel
Things I basically didn't use, or used only once or twice:
- Sleeping bag
- Tent/rain fly
- Other camping-specific stuff (bug spray, toilet paper, towel)
- Passenger supplies (headset, airsick bags, etc.)
- Tools
Of course, much of the stuff I carried that I didn't use was for specific "Things have gone wrong" situations that didn't arise. So it's hard to be unhappy about carrying them. I would have been absolutely delighted to have them if their situations had come up. I do wish I'd committed to the weight of a proper 3/8" socket wrench handle, as it became obvious the little 1/4" handle I had was never going to get those spark plugs out in New Mexico. I also wish I'd packed an air pressure gauge for the tires, though I survived fine without it.
I wondered repeatedly whether I'd overpacked, and every time, the answer was "no" when I looked at what I actually had. The only things that were absolutely useless for the majority of the trip were the passenger headset/helmet, and things related to that, but I also absolutely wanted to be able to carry passengers, so they were necessary. I definitely wish I'd packed another change of clothes, just so I had more leeway as far as finding laundry facilities.
The camping stuff felt extraneous in the moment, but it was always a possibility that I'd end up at a field like Tulare, where I'd expected some kind of facilities, and there just weren't any. I'm glad I had it with me, even though I didn't use it.
Wrapping It All Up
Everyone who welcomes me back asks, "Did you have a good time?" and the answer to that is so complicated. Yes, I did. But also. I grieved the trip I'd have to give up midway through, multiple times. I swore at the plane so many times when that damned landing wire started vibrating. I was amazed at the people I met, over and over. I sweated through some of the hottest temperatures I've experienced in a long time (lookin' your way, Yuma, AZ). I probably permanently damaged my hearing by flying 58 hours in three weeks. Getting in the plane was a plague on my tailbone until I hit LA, and picked up the tailbone pillow I'd ordered.
Then again, I pulled off a trip that I'd completely given up on a month earlier. I pulled it off quite well, really. I did a lot of planning and preparing, and it all paid off, or made my life easier than it would have otherwise been. I was ready for emergencies that didn't happen, but easily could have. I handled bad situations pretty well (and some not so well).
Did I have a good time? Yeah. I had a good time. There's a lot more to it than that, but the answer is yes.
Thank you, dear reader, for joining me on this journey. Traveling solo is not my favorite way to go, but being able to share the experience through these pages makes it less lonely, and has the added benefit that I can look back on my experiences and recall it much more vividly than if I hadn't taken the hours to write up each entry in the moment, when the memories were fresh.
The Surprise Ending (For Some)
This is probably the last major event in my life where I will willingly call myself Ian. I finally figured out earlier this year (mere days before I first saw this plane, in fact) that I'm trans. I've been actively transitioning to a female presentation for the last few months, but didn't feel like it would be safe to make a trip through the American deep south looking like I do while wearing feminine-coded clothing.
I have a great deal to say on this topic, but most of it doesn't fit well in a travelogue. Suffice to say that my name is Laura, and I'm not particularly interested in hiding that from anyone any more.
For my friends from the forum, I hope you can still accept me. I'm not going away, and am likely to be more present now that I'm not hiding myself any more.
Copyright © 2022 by Laura Johnston.