I guess my father has never changes his mind in what he told me eleven years earlier. That was that I would never learn to fly. Could never own an airplane. For sure never do anything with one if I had it.
Dejected, I tell my father that I was going down to the house. NOTHING HAS CHANGED. THIS TOWN IS STILL LIVING IN THE PAST! I would guess the only thing that would make people move out of their present is EXLAX!
If this is my father's attitude in relation to my being here, there is really no need to hurry to the house. My brothers and sisters are in school. My mother, like my father, would have little concern of how I arrived in Ekalaka. Certainly, they would never believe I flew in from California especially in the winter time. So, I can't share my excitement or accomplishments with anyone. Turns out, this feeling would continue to be a lifetime experience.
WHO IS THERE THAT WOULD FOREVER UNDERSTAND AND SHARE IN MY DREAMS?!? SOMEONE WILL!
All of my life would be an experience of being outside looking in and wanting to be accepted. Whether it was with relatives or friends, the experience was the same. Relatives seem to show no love or interest in me, and a friend is a rare person. A friend loves you all the time.
The fourteenth of November, I would find a new acquaintance and fly this land of south east Montana where I grew up. We would first fly west and pick up a few rolling hills, the short grass country, and the famed Powder River which is sometimes described as being about 400 miles long, a mile wide, and an inch deep. Too this to plow, too thick to drink, and it runs up hill from Texas. Powder River Let'er buck was a battle cry of the paratroopers in the second world war.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
Page 20 -Only a Few Minutes to Home
A good nights rest. Up at a early morning hour for breakfast. Now, out to the airplane at sun up to fly over a band of sheep and let my distant cousin try out my plane. He liked it.
On my way home now. Only a few minutes to go. Soon, I land at the airport at Ekalaka. It is about a few miles from town. My dream has come true. Yes, daddy, I did learn to fly, and I own my very own airplane. Now, come and see what it has done for me.
Very carefully, I put the plane in a vacant hanger. I am so excited! I would not trade anyone for this moment.
I set out for town on foot. I had to walk as I told no one that I was coming home. I head for the New Life Bar because I am sure that my father will be there.
He was.
My father was surprised as he greeted me. Being in the Navy, I had precious few chances to come home to see my parents. "Harlan, how did you come in from Baker? Did you come in on the stage?" I quickly explained that I had flown into Ekalaka from San Mateo, California. In my own airplane! He didn't believe me! I was devastated. From the high of completing my journey to an unbelievable low of my father not believing me. I had come from California to Ekalaka with some overwhelming experiences along the way. Yet, my father doesn't believe me.
When I walked into the bar, my father was right where I thought he would be. He was sitting at a blackjack table playing solitaire. His brother at one end of the bar out cold having had too much to drink. Now, I am cold and ready for a cup of coffee. Pilot has been patiently waiting at the door of the bar for me to come back out. We have a cup to give fuel to the conversation. We talk about all things BUT my trip. I am dying to go back to my airplane, but my heart reminds me that I really want to see my mother. Oh, and my brothers and sisters.
On my way home now. Only a few minutes to go. Soon, I land at the airport at Ekalaka. It is about a few miles from town. My dream has come true. Yes, daddy, I did learn to fly, and I own my very own airplane. Now, come and see what it has done for me.
Very carefully, I put the plane in a vacant hanger. I am so excited! I would not trade anyone for this moment.
 |
| Photo by Beth Lang |
I set out for town on foot. I had to walk as I told no one that I was coming home. I head for the New Life Bar because I am sure that my father will be there.
He was.
My father was surprised as he greeted me. Being in the Navy, I had precious few chances to come home to see my parents. "Harlan, how did you come in from Baker? Did you come in on the stage?" I quickly explained that I had flown into Ekalaka from San Mateo, California. In my own airplane! He didn't believe me! I was devastated. From the high of completing my journey to an unbelievable low of my father not believing me. I had come from California to Ekalaka with some overwhelming experiences along the way. Yet, my father doesn't believe me.
When I walked into the bar, my father was right where I thought he would be. He was sitting at a blackjack table playing solitaire. His brother at one end of the bar out cold having had too much to drink. Now, I am cold and ready for a cup of coffee. Pilot has been patiently waiting at the door of the bar for me to come back out. We have a cup to give fuel to the conversation. We talk about all things BUT my trip. I am dying to go back to my airplane, but my heart reminds me that I really want to see my mother. Oh, and my brothers and sisters.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Page 19 - Night Fall Surrounds the Path of the Airplane
My mind now explores the magnitude of sounds that come from the airplane as night fall surrounds my path. In the distance, I think I see a light. Possibly, it is a car light. Gray to black colors below and all around me little detail as to what is really in front of me.
I see a stationary and a moving light. Is it a car? A truck? Is that Highway 212? As I get closer, I can see that the light is coming from a vehicle passing by a building as I pass over. I'd like to make a turn to the left but if I do, I might lose the building with the light. If I turn to the right, maybe I can land behind the light of the vehicle. There is no longer a horizon as I turn and come to a level I think the vehicle might be. There! There is the light again. I fly to the level of the light. I'm on target. A light in the window, with the words that say "Stockman's Bar. Hammond, Montana" I can see a man standing at a bar. I see that I'm exactly on course, but now where to go with the airplane?
No lights on the highway or anyway to tell me just how close the building is from the highway. One more time around and maybe I can land the plane using the light of the window to judge the level of the ground. I just want to go home! As I come around, the night has closed around me. I judge where north should be from the angle I crossed the top of the building, but where to go? I should of landed. A lot of guess work as I try to judge north from the few colors below. I'm not sure how high I am from the ground. There! I see a light spot on the ground. GOD BE WITH ME. I hope I don't hit a fence post as I touch down because Enough is enough!
Excited, but mentally exhausted. So close to home, but I will spend the night in the airplane. I hear a huff, huff. Clap. Clap. What is that? I get out of the plane and I see someone is riding up on a horse. All is well! I have landed on a ranch of a distant relative. I didn't see it when I landed but there was a hanger on this plot of land. We put TWO planes in a one airplane hanger. Cowboys can do that sort of thing.
I see a stationary and a moving light. Is it a car? A truck? Is that Highway 212? As I get closer, I can see that the light is coming from a vehicle passing by a building as I pass over. I'd like to make a turn to the left but if I do, I might lose the building with the light. If I turn to the right, maybe I can land behind the light of the vehicle. There is no longer a horizon as I turn and come to a level I think the vehicle might be. There! There is the light again. I fly to the level of the light. I'm on target. A light in the window, with the words that say "Stockman's Bar. Hammond, Montana" I can see a man standing at a bar. I see that I'm exactly on course, but now where to go with the airplane?
No lights on the highway or anyway to tell me just how close the building is from the highway. One more time around and maybe I can land the plane using the light of the window to judge the level of the ground. I just want to go home! As I come around, the night has closed around me. I judge where north should be from the angle I crossed the top of the building, but where to go? I should of landed. A lot of guess work as I try to judge north from the few colors below. I'm not sure how high I am from the ground. There! I see a light spot on the ground. GOD BE WITH ME. I hope I don't hit a fence post as I touch down because Enough is enough!
Excited, but mentally exhausted. So close to home, but I will spend the night in the airplane. I hear a huff, huff. Clap. Clap. What is that? I get out of the plane and I see someone is riding up on a horse. All is well! I have landed on a ranch of a distant relative. I didn't see it when I landed but there was a hanger on this plot of land. We put TWO planes in a one airplane hanger. Cowboys can do that sort of thing.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Page 18 - I have lost my sense of time
The sun is sinking below the horizon. No real land marks to guide me. So, to look at the chart is almost useless. To turn right or left is almost as useless. I continue north by northeast. Getting home has taken over me.
The light colored grasses are changing to dark colored grasses. The blue gray sage brush has changed to an even darker gray. There are no more shadows. The sun is down below the horizon now. The sun, like the compass, is like a light house that helps the ship's captains guide the ship from the shallows. I am for sure out of landmarks even though this country is more familiar than where I have been.
I haven't considered time as measured by a clock. I guess I only considered time by the shades of sunlight from dawn to sunset. Now, there is no more daylight. I have lost my sense of time. The only landmark that will let me know that I am in Montana is Highway 212, a two lane highway that runs from Belle Fourche to Miles City.
I can hardly see the compass, but I can still see the landscape below the airplane. If a dirt road would show up, I think I could still see it. Visibility to where I am going is narrowing fast, colors from day into night have changed as though controlled by a rheostat. Still, there is almost enough light that if I can get to the highway I would see it. There is just enough contrasting color to tell me if I am turning left or right. There is a dim light ahead, probably a radio tower. I will head for it as it is not too far to the right of my course. It is my guiding light. I think to myself that if something should happen and I accidentally wreck this airplane that someday when this light goes out that whoever should be the one to replace the light might accidentally find my airplane.
Now, I see a car light. The angle I see it from the nose of the plane lets me think it could by Highway 212. If I can only get to it before complete darkness sets in...
Monday, April 2, 2012
Page 17 - I won't make it on up to Ekalaka
As I get close enough, I tell the attendant that I would like to get the airplanie filled with gas as soon as possible because I would like to get on up to Ekalaka, MT before dark. He tells me that it is doubtful that I will make the Montana border by night fall. He informs me that after the sun sets night fall comes quickly in the fall and winter months, and that it will probably be dark by about six or close thereafter.
The airplane is serviced. My bill fold is handy as he tells me the cost of the gas. I have the amount to the penny. During all of this, I have remained sitting in the airplane. Paying out the window. Sort of like being at a drive thru.
After I have paid, I ask if there is anything between the gas pit and the direction I'm pointed. I am going to start my take off at the gas pit. He looks at me funny and tells me, "It's all yours. Go for it!" I hollered out my thanks as he propped the plane. It started on the first try. I wave as I carefully line the plane up in a direction that is clear of any possible surface debris. I ease the throttle forward as Piper, continental, Champion and Lewis all come together in crescendo as the airplane begins it roll to the northeast.
In seconds the plane is airborne. About 15 degrees is the compass heading. Land marks are few and a shallow climb to get all the airspeed and ground speed available. I leveled off about fifty feet above the ground. A few minutes after leaving Gillette, the Powder River is under my left wing tip. I'm still in the short grass country. Occassionaly, I see deer or antelope and a few head of cattle scattered here and there. Flying so low I can see long shadows from the sage brush and can almost smell it as I near home. I suppose the attendant was right after all. It will be sun down long before I make the Wyoming Montana border. For sure, I won't make it on up to Ekalaka that day as it will be dark.
The airplane is serviced. My bill fold is handy as he tells me the cost of the gas. I have the amount to the penny. During all of this, I have remained sitting in the airplane. Paying out the window. Sort of like being at a drive thru.
After I have paid, I ask if there is anything between the gas pit and the direction I'm pointed. I am going to start my take off at the gas pit. He looks at me funny and tells me, "It's all yours. Go for it!" I hollered out my thanks as he propped the plane. It started on the first try. I wave as I carefully line the plane up in a direction that is clear of any possible surface debris. I ease the throttle forward as Piper, continental, Champion and Lewis all come together in crescendo as the airplane begins it roll to the northeast.
In seconds the plane is airborne. About 15 degrees is the compass heading. Land marks are few and a shallow climb to get all the airspeed and ground speed available. I leveled off about fifty feet above the ground. A few minutes after leaving Gillette, the Powder River is under my left wing tip. I'm still in the short grass country. Occassionaly, I see deer or antelope and a few head of cattle scattered here and there. Flying so low I can see long shadows from the sage brush and can almost smell it as I near home. I suppose the attendant was right after all. It will be sun down long before I make the Wyoming Montana border. For sure, I won't make it on up to Ekalaka that day as it will be dark.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Page 16 - I need all the daylight I can get
I'm at Casper, a more accommodating facility. I land and take on fuel and again, and I am on my way. It is nearly 4pm when I depart for Gillette, Wyoming. The cast afternoon sunlight tells me I need to make good time on this leg of the trip. Again, I am blessed. I follow a highway up. "Fly little airplane. Fly."
A few minutes after leaving Casper, I find myself in almost familiar territory. To the west of the route and near the route are the head waters of the Powder River that I surveyed in Montana and to the right of the route is the Belle Fourche River that will eventually flow through Bell Fourche, South Dakota. "Fly little airplane. Fly as fast as you can!"
The sun is getting toward the left wing tip as a I skim about a hundred feet above the ground. At times, 5000 ft is indicated on the altimeter. I see deer and antelope here and there as I race across the short grass country. I think, "Probably excellent sheep country."
Gillette is in sight. Only a light breeze as I see a runway right in front of me. I won't even circle as I now need all the daylight time I can get. The country side glistens. The air is clear. No snow anywhere, but mother nature has turned the green grasses from orange to a near gray.
My feelings are of exhiliration. Everything seems like it was all preplanned. This voyage is coming together like clockwork. The sun is still by the wing tip. I am ever so close to home and the conclusion of an eleven year old dream. At the same time, it might end a multitude of dreams I have had over the years about this very trip. Dreams where none end up in a successful trip to Ekalaka, Montana.
It is well that right now I travel alone as far as another person is concerned. They would never understand the anxious moments I have. How could so little mean so much as everything means to me right now? I would like to say "Yes! I did it!" But, I am not home yet. I feel the success of this trip has not really been mine, but of the Holy Spirit. I feel like there will be a day that I bend down on my knees giving thanks and praise and glory to the Lord for what He has done for me.
Landing at Gillette, the sun is nearer the wing tip than the horizon as I taxi off the runway and on to the ramp where there just happens to be one of the airport attendants standing and directing me to the gas pit.
A few minutes after leaving Casper, I find myself in almost familiar territory. To the west of the route and near the route are the head waters of the Powder River that I surveyed in Montana and to the right of the route is the Belle Fourche River that will eventually flow through Bell Fourche, South Dakota. "Fly little airplane. Fly as fast as you can!"
The sun is getting toward the left wing tip as a I skim about a hundred feet above the ground. At times, 5000 ft is indicated on the altimeter. I see deer and antelope here and there as I race across the short grass country. I think, "Probably excellent sheep country."
Gillette is in sight. Only a light breeze as I see a runway right in front of me. I won't even circle as I now need all the daylight time I can get. The country side glistens. The air is clear. No snow anywhere, but mother nature has turned the green grasses from orange to a near gray.
My feelings are of exhiliration. Everything seems like it was all preplanned. This voyage is coming together like clockwork. The sun is still by the wing tip. I am ever so close to home and the conclusion of an eleven year old dream. At the same time, it might end a multitude of dreams I have had over the years about this very trip. Dreams where none end up in a successful trip to Ekalaka, Montana.
It is well that right now I travel alone as far as another person is concerned. They would never understand the anxious moments I have. How could so little mean so much as everything means to me right now? I would like to say "Yes! I did it!" But, I am not home yet. I feel the success of this trip has not really been mine, but of the Holy Spirit. I feel like there will be a day that I bend down on my knees giving thanks and praise and glory to the Lord for what He has done for me.
Landing at Gillette, the sun is nearer the wing tip than the horizon as I taxi off the runway and on to the ramp where there just happens to be one of the airport attendants standing and directing me to the gas pit.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Page 15 - Now, I think I am lost...
I am facinated by the vastness of the rugged, pristine beauty of the high country. Everything looks wild, untamed, and unspoiled. What peace I find as the little airplane takes me sailing through the air like a child on a magic carpet. I find myself day dreaming. I was so intoxicated with the whole experience that right now I think I am lost.
Pilots don't like to admit they have ever been lost while flying, but right now the compass shows to the northeast, my ultimate direction in going home. Now, I find myself coming up on a beautiful lake or reservoir. I couldn't be too far off course. I study my chart and confirm where I am at. The reservoir is called Pathfinder. It certainly helped me find where I wanted to be! I am right on course and about sixty miles southwest of Casper, Wyoming.
This has been an odyssey for the Vagabond, Pilot, and me. It seems that to turn the airplane to any point on the compass there is endless beauty. I fly by Independence Rock, a historic land mark on the Oregon Trail. This rock was named on July 4, 1830 in honor of the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. I would suppose this land mark is still a welcome site for today's travelers in this area. "Harlan, you will never learn to fly, and for sure you will never own an airplane."
Pilots don't like to admit they have ever been lost while flying, but right now the compass shows to the northeast, my ultimate direction in going home. Now, I find myself coming up on a beautiful lake or reservoir. I couldn't be too far off course. I study my chart and confirm where I am at. The reservoir is called Pathfinder. It certainly helped me find where I wanted to be! I am right on course and about sixty miles southwest of Casper, Wyoming.
This has been an odyssey for the Vagabond, Pilot, and me. It seems that to turn the airplane to any point on the compass there is endless beauty. I fly by Independence Rock, a historic land mark on the Oregon Trail. This rock was named on July 4, 1830 in honor of the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. I would suppose this land mark is still a welcome site for today's travelers in this area. "Harlan, you will never learn to fly, and for sure you will never own an airplane."
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Page 14 - Pilot is ready
Then, I walked outside to survey my surrounding. I thought that I would just gas the airplane myself. It looked like the gas pit facility was about the same as the one I operated in San Mateo. As I go back to the hanger to get the gas can out of the airplane, I can see the snow is beginning to let up. I could go over to the administration building and get someone to gas the plane, but I can do it okay. It is a joy to be down and safe and servicing the airplane myself. Checking the oil and satisfying myself the airplane is okay, now I will find the office and pay for the fuel. Maybe, I can find a cup of coffee and be on my way.
The people sitting around the office were surprised to see me. They asked where I came from and when I landed. I told him I came up from Rock Springs, feeling my way across the Continental Divide, and worked my way down the highway and into the airport. It was snowing so bad I didn't think anyone would see me. Who would be flying in this sort of weather? I landed and taxied up and into the hanger and even serviced the airplane already. The people sitting around just couldn't see how I landed in near blizzard conditions. I think it certainly wasn't from any skill of mine!
I paid for the gas as they were telling me I was lucky I had got down safely. There had been more than a few pilots trying to make Rawlins in similar condiditions, and they were not so lucky. We visited a short while longer over coffee then I went over to the wall chart of the Rawlins area. I studied the route up to Casper.
The people sitting around the office were surprised to see me. They asked where I came from and when I landed. I told him I came up from Rock Springs, feeling my way across the Continental Divide, and worked my way down the highway and into the airport. It was snowing so bad I didn't think anyone would see me. Who would be flying in this sort of weather? I landed and taxied up and into the hanger and even serviced the airplane already. The people sitting around just couldn't see how I landed in near blizzard conditions. I think it certainly wasn't from any skill of mine!
I paid for the gas as they were telling me I was lucky I had got down safely. There had been more than a few pilots trying to make Rawlins in similar condiditions, and they were not so lucky. We visited a short while longer over coffee then I went over to the wall chart of the Rawlins area. I studied the route up to Casper.
Rawlins to Casper, Wyoming
Again, I have said all my goodbyes and ask if someone would come out to the hanger and help me push the airplane out and prop it for me so I can be on my way. The snow had given way to sunshine. The airplane looks okay and Pilot, the dog, is ready to go. The plane starts on the first pull of the prop, and soon I am taxiing out on the runway and then on my way to Casper. As I take off and climb out on course, I find the reason I have been constantly flying at higher indicated altitudes is that the average elevation in Wyoming is about six thousand seven hundred feet on the course I'm flying. Only Colorado has a somewhat higher elelavation. I find I'm still near part of the meandering Divide, but I'm on the east slope and there are gentle and few light down drafts.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Page 13 - A good little machine.
Who would help me now if I panic? Be nice to have a cup of coffee if I could get my hand off the throttle or controls to hold it and a way I could sip it without taking my face out of the side window.
The snow now is almost at blizzard conditions and now there is a RUNWAY! Someone has shown me the way! As I turn into what I really hope is a runway, I barely reduce power. I will have to fly this approach as the snow is blowing so hard there is no such thing as gliding. The airplane responds nicely to the controls. I sort of have to fly taxi this way and that hoping to find a place to park and tie the airplane down before the wind blows it away. I see an open hanger and head for it. I can see the gas pit where the airplane would probably be fueled if someone could see me which they don't. Who would be flying in this sort of weather? I come up to the open hanger and taxi right on into the hanger and even turn it around in the hanger before I turn the engine off.
As I cut the engine, I have to sit and think awhile about where I am at and what I am going to do. I think I should be expressing some sort of word of thanks. Maybe we have guardian angels. I really have to think about this experience. It is still snowing, and I can hardly see anything outside past the hanger door. I am thankful I am down and safe as I begin to stir around and undo my seat belt. I open the door so my dog, Pilot, can get out and stretch. Finally, I get out of the airplane not knowing what I'm going to do, but whatever I do I better get started. Other than my airplane, the hanger is bare. I did walk around the airplane as if I had to admire its design and how well it can fly. A good little machine.
The snow now is almost at blizzard conditions and now there is a RUNWAY! Someone has shown me the way! As I turn into what I really hope is a runway, I barely reduce power. I will have to fly this approach as the snow is blowing so hard there is no such thing as gliding. The airplane responds nicely to the controls. I sort of have to fly taxi this way and that hoping to find a place to park and tie the airplane down before the wind blows it away. I see an open hanger and head for it. I can see the gas pit where the airplane would probably be fueled if someone could see me which they don't. Who would be flying in this sort of weather? I come up to the open hanger and taxi right on into the hanger and even turn it around in the hanger before I turn the engine off.
As I cut the engine, I have to sit and think awhile about where I am at and what I am going to do. I think I should be expressing some sort of word of thanks. Maybe we have guardian angels. I really have to think about this experience. It is still snowing, and I can hardly see anything outside past the hanger door. I am thankful I am down and safe as I begin to stir around and undo my seat belt. I open the door so my dog, Pilot, can get out and stretch. Finally, I get out of the airplane not knowing what I'm going to do, but whatever I do I better get started. Other than my airplane, the hanger is bare. I did walk around the airplane as if I had to admire its design and how well it can fly. A good little machine.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Page 12 - I never figured I would get in a mess like this.
No time to file a flight plan. It's on to Rawlins, Wyoming.
Leaving out of Rock Springs, I'm glad there is still a highway below me that leads to Rawlins. I find myself at about seven thousand five hundred feet indicated altitude, which is only about four to five hundred feet above the ground, flying the Great Divide Basin aka The Red Desert. It is such an arid land. The sky is now getting somewhat grayer as I begin to hug the highway. Now, it is "IFR - I Follow Roads." Visibility is not good. I know in a few minutes I will be crossing the Continental Divide, and I hope I can continue to see the highway and around anywhere so i can get on into Rawlins.
Not much to see on the chart as I look for certain check points on my route. I find myself looking this way and that as the ceiling gets lower and moisture is beginning to show up on the windshield. I open the side window to see better. I probably should have inquired about the weather before I left Rock Springs, but I didn't. Now, there are flakes of snow hitting the windshield. I hadn't thought about an alternate airport, and in this country, with this short fuel range, there is no alternate airport. "If I have to, I will land on the highway." I have no time to look at the compass. For that matter, there is no time to look at a chart. The snow is now beginning to get heavy. "Fly little airplane! Fly!"
I have no idea now of time and distance. I guess I never figured I would get in a mess like this.
At Rawlins, the airport should be on the east side of town, right near the highway. I will fly so close to the ground that if I can assure Rawlins, I can assure the airport. "Fly little airplane! Fly!" The snow is even heavier now. I can hardly see. I hope there is nothing higher in front of me than I am flying! A quick glance at the altimeter shows I am now about seven thousand indicated. "I must have went over the continental divide." I'm not sure if I even set the altimeter back at Rock Springs. Maybe, it is still reading correctly...
Leaving out of Rock Springs, I'm glad there is still a highway below me that leads to Rawlins. I find myself at about seven thousand five hundred feet indicated altitude, which is only about four to five hundred feet above the ground, flying the Great Divide Basin aka The Red Desert. It is such an arid land. The sky is now getting somewhat grayer as I begin to hug the highway. Now, it is "IFR - I Follow Roads." Visibility is not good. I know in a few minutes I will be crossing the Continental Divide, and I hope I can continue to see the highway and around anywhere so i can get on into Rawlins.
Not much to see on the chart as I look for certain check points on my route. I find myself looking this way and that as the ceiling gets lower and moisture is beginning to show up on the windshield. I open the side window to see better. I probably should have inquired about the weather before I left Rock Springs, but I didn't. Now, there are flakes of snow hitting the windshield. I hadn't thought about an alternate airport, and in this country, with this short fuel range, there is no alternate airport. "If I have to, I will land on the highway." I have no time to look at the compass. For that matter, there is no time to look at a chart. The snow is now beginning to get heavy. "Fly little airplane! Fly!"
I have no idea now of time and distance. I guess I never figured I would get in a mess like this.
At Rawlins, the airport should be on the east side of town, right near the highway. I will fly so close to the ground that if I can assure Rawlins, I can assure the airport. "Fly little airplane! Fly!" The snow is even heavier now. I can hardly see. I hope there is nothing higher in front of me than I am flying! A quick glance at the altimeter shows I am now about seven thousand indicated. "I must have went over the continental divide." I'm not sure if I even set the altimeter back at Rock Springs. Maybe, it is still reading correctly...
Monday, February 14, 2011
Skellytown American Flyers - (Not a part of Harlan's first flight home)
July 4th, 1971 - Skellytown American Flyers Annual 4th of July Trip. Cessna Skyhawk. Passengers - Doug Boyd, Doug Lacy, and Kim Wallace. Hot Springs, SD to North Platte, NE leg of return portion of trip to Pampa, TX
The trip came off as planned, and we were returning home on the route as planned. About 20 miles north of of Lake McConaughy, Doug asked me if I would mind stopping by the lake. I said that I thought we could. 10 miles or so north of the lake, we called the flight service station at Sidney, NE and got the surface winds and surface temperature. The service said the surface temperature to be 72 degrees. As I knew with the loads we had been carrying, we had been having longer take off runs. I didn't want to land in a place I couldn't get out of safely. Before landing, we computed what our take off run would be at the lake by using both the Cessna owners manual and a Denalt computer. We had figured we had roughly 600 to 800 feet of runway to spare and to me that was plenty of room. I knew it would be somewhat less than that with the cruise prop we had on the plane, but we should be safe enough though.
Before we landed at the lake, we flew low over the runway and checked the conditions before landing. Then we set up the approach to land. I knew from the way the plane felt coming in that it might be a little difficult to take off, but we landed.
Lake McConaughy was a nice place to come into, but I couldn't seem to enjoy it like the others. I stayed concerned about how we were going to leave back out. Doug, as usual, being his generous self, offered to buy our dinner. Naturally, we all went up to the cafe to eat. With the possible situation like it was I didn't feel much like eating, so I told Doug for the them to go ahead and eat and all I would have was an ice tea.
I sat at the table only long enough to have a sip of tea while the others went ahead and ate and then after my sip of tea I left the cafe and went down to the east end of the runway. It was less than 50 feet from the waters edge. I went down there for two reasons. To see how I was going to take off and just where I could find a rest room. After it was all said and done, it was easier to see how I was going to take off. I must have walked a quarter of a mile to the out door out houses only to find after I got there that you had to have your own key. Fortunately, mother nature provided adequate private facilities.
I guess when I'm in a bind I'm rather cautious. The winds were almost 90 degrees to the runway, and I wanted the direction that was the most advantagious. I periodically tossed bits of grass in the air counting the times the wind blew the grass to the east or the west. I finally decided that the take off would be to the east and with that part off my mind, I made the long walk up to the cafe.
On arriving at the cafe, my friends were just barely getting through eating, and I was in no hurry to rush them. I finished my tea, but it didn't do much for me and while I was walking up to the cafe a thought came to my mind. "Call the Ogalla, NE flight service and have the operator fly over the hill to the lake, pick up one of my passengers, and we could take off easily. Then I would fly to Ogalla, pick up my passenger, refuel, and be on our way to North Platte to meet the rest of our party in the Cherokee."Then I thought the other way. "As sure as I called the operator over he would probably say to me, 'you take my plane and fly it back and I'll show you how to fly your Cessna out of here still loaded with four people.'" So, I talked myself out of that idea!
Doug paid the bill, and we strolled down the hill to the Cessna to check it over closely. We started it up and taxied down to the runway and down the runway to the west end. To very west end! I had the tail off the end of the runway over the brush. We went through a power check.
A long time ago, and I don't know how true it to be, but a friend of mine told me if you want all the available power, to turn off the master switch so all the power is to the engine instead of the distribution of some of the power to the electrical components. So, I turned the master switch off. It did seem a little more powerful than before, but maybe I only thought that as we shoved the throttle forward and began to roll down the runway. A 2400 foot runway. We rolled and rolled AND rolled. When we passed the cafe at little past the half way mark, we didn't even move the airspeed indicator over the 40mph mark. Should I cut the power? We were moving fairly fast. We might slide in the grass to the end of the runway and go into the water anyway.
I feel sure my passengers were getting a little worried. Sitting on the right side, I had my hand on the flap switch with the other hand on the controls. Doug hollered, "Now?" I said, "No!" His had was on the master switch, and as soon as I had said no, I yelled, "Yes!" With my hand depressing the flap switch, I glanced at the airspeed. The plane was getting light with the speed going from 45 to 50. There can't be 200 feet of runway left. Indicated speed and calibrated speed were possibly running two or three miles per hour faster than we're reading. The flaps are taking effect. The speed now a little over 50. Doug has his head down, and my life passes in front of me, as we whiz right between the boat masts and the trees. The stall warning is ringing! I lower the nose. Just a mile or two more and I'll keep the wheels out of the water. We cross the inlet, and there is hill and more trees. Not enough speed to turn... FLY BABY FLY! We are coming to the trees. We are getting climb speed in a normal down draft area, and I hold the nose down for as long and as low as I can. 75 and she is climbing easy, but I'll stay on the edge of my seat until I put it down in Ogalla. While we refuel, I regroup my senses. In Ogalla, I get a couple of hamburgers to go and we begin our journey on south to Pampa, TX. I figured we used 2395 feet of a 2400 foot long runway.Friday, February 11, 2011
Page 11 - I'm using all the runway, and there is no where to go.
Fort Bridger, Wyoming looks like I'm landing on a mountain top. The airplane is handling somewhat different, but all is well.
As I was on a flight plan from Odgon to Fort Bridger, the flight service station attendants gave me a warm welcome. They don't have many flights in and out of Fort Bridger in the fall and winter. It's was winter , but there was no snow on the ground.
A cup of coffee went well, and I would have to fill up the plane from the five gallon can of gas I carried with me. Here they helped me prop the plane, and then its off again on to Rock Springs, Wyoming.
Some how as I taxi for take off things don't seem right. For sure different than if I was at San Mateo, Ca. I check the airplane for power and set the altimeter and its off I go. As I roll and roll and roll... why is all of this different? I would not know how density altitude effects the power and performance of this little airplane. I'm using all the runway, and there is no where to go. The plane seems to feel lighter now and speed is beginning to pick up as I barely passed the end of the runway and down on the open range land. ( I will have to think about all of this!). I now head for Rock Springs. Another range of high mountains in front of me, but there is a wide open pass in the mountains. I'll be okay.
Landing at Rock Springs was routine. The airplane is serviced, and then on to Rawlins, Wyoming. After the plane was serviced, I asked the airport attendant if he would prop the plane for me. He looked at me with a frown, a scowl of a look. " See this scar? This is what happened to me when I propped a plane and the operator did not handle the throttle and brake properly." He would show me a scar on the side of his face where he was hit by a propeller blow. "No, I will not prop the airplane for you. I'm sorry."
Now what? I don't want to prop the airplane by myself, and I need to leave now. The attendant could see the sad look of disappointment on my face. "Man, I'll prop it for you, but do the things I tell you to do!" The little engine would respond to the move of the propeller. I'm off again to Montana. With a tear on my face, I thanked the attendant over and over as I would now head out to the runway and on to Montana.
As I was on a flight plan from Odgon to Fort Bridger, the flight service station attendants gave me a warm welcome. They don't have many flights in and out of Fort Bridger in the fall and winter. It's was winter , but there was no snow on the ground.
A cup of coffee went well, and I would have to fill up the plane from the five gallon can of gas I carried with me. Here they helped me prop the plane, and then its off again on to Rock Springs, Wyoming.
Some how as I taxi for take off things don't seem right. For sure different than if I was at San Mateo, Ca. I check the airplane for power and set the altimeter and its off I go. As I roll and roll and roll... why is all of this different? I would not know how density altitude effects the power and performance of this little airplane. I'm using all the runway, and there is no where to go. The plane seems to feel lighter now and speed is beginning to pick up as I barely passed the end of the runway and down on the open range land. ( I will have to think about all of this!). I now head for Rock Springs. Another range of high mountains in front of me, but there is a wide open pass in the mountains. I'll be okay.
Landing at Rock Springs was routine. The airplane is serviced, and then on to Rawlins, Wyoming. After the plane was serviced, I asked the airport attendant if he would prop the plane for me. He looked at me with a frown, a scowl of a look. " See this scar? This is what happened to me when I propped a plane and the operator did not handle the throttle and brake properly." He would show me a scar on the side of his face where he was hit by a propeller blow. "No, I will not prop the airplane for you. I'm sorry."
Now what? I don't want to prop the airplane by myself, and I need to leave now. The attendant could see the sad look of disappointment on my face. "Man, I'll prop it for you, but do the things I tell you to do!" The little engine would respond to the move of the propeller. I'm off again to Montana. With a tear on my face, I thanked the attendant over and over as I would now head out to the runway and on to Montana.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Page 10 - Will my little airplane traverse those mountains???
Landing at Lucin, Utah, it would be an experience landing on the salt flats. I had a five gallon can of gas and would have to fuel the plane myself and crank it ( carefully, remembering my experience in San Mateo ).
The airplane refueled and cranked, I'm on my way to Ogdon, Utah. I had barely taken off when I would see a railroad section house on the flats of the west side of Salt Lake. I would see a girl walking to an out door toilet. I circled and circled around the toilet till the girl came out and waved. Then, again, I was back on course following the railroad track across the Salt Lake. I see a train in front of me, so lonesome to see people and create a little excitement, I flew close to the passenger train and would wave at the passengers on the train as I flew by.
The Salt Lake is a sight to see as Odgon looms in the distant east. There is a mountain range east of Ogdon. All of this is new to me. Will my little airplane traverse those mountains???
Landing at Odgon was quite routine. I was able to have a good nights rest, but in the morning, I stare at this awesome ridge of mountains that are between me and my next stop, Fort Bridger, Wyoming.
Landing at Fort Bridger would be a new experience for me. No one taught me anything about mountain flying or aircraft performance in the mountains.
I was on a flight plan from Ogdon to Fort Bridger. Before I had taken off from Odgon I asked one of the attendants at the airport about how I would negotiate crossing the mountain range in front of me on the way up to Fort Bridger. The attendant told me to head the plane for a letter that was on the side of the mountain and on my flight path and the up drafts from the winds off the Salt Lake would give me a boost up over the mountain range.
I depart and headed into the mountain range and there is the letter on the mountain side. I head for it as all the sudden the airplane is climbing at a rate that I could not believe. All the sudden, I have extra power and the climb is exhilarating!
The airplane refueled and cranked, I'm on my way to Ogdon, Utah. I had barely taken off when I would see a railroad section house on the flats of the west side of Salt Lake. I would see a girl walking to an out door toilet. I circled and circled around the toilet till the girl came out and waved. Then, again, I was back on course following the railroad track across the Salt Lake. I see a train in front of me, so lonesome to see people and create a little excitement, I flew close to the passenger train and would wave at the passengers on the train as I flew by.
The Salt Lake is a sight to see as Odgon looms in the distant east. There is a mountain range east of Ogdon. All of this is new to me. Will my little airplane traverse those mountains???
Landing at Odgon was quite routine. I was able to have a good nights rest, but in the morning, I stare at this awesome ridge of mountains that are between me and my next stop, Fort Bridger, Wyoming.
Landing at Fort Bridger would be a new experience for me. No one taught me anything about mountain flying or aircraft performance in the mountains.
I was on a flight plan from Ogdon to Fort Bridger. Before I had taken off from Odgon I asked one of the attendants at the airport about how I would negotiate crossing the mountain range in front of me on the way up to Fort Bridger. The attendant told me to head the plane for a letter that was on the side of the mountain and on my flight path and the up drafts from the winds off the Salt Lake would give me a boost up over the mountain range.
I depart and headed into the mountain range and there is the letter on the mountain side. I head for it as all the sudden the airplane is climbing at a rate that I could not believe. All the sudden, I have extra power and the climb is exhilarating!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Page 9 - All seems strange.
I told the service station attendants that I had passed over a lighted airport west of Wennemucca coming in from Reno, but the pilots for San Francisco Land Co told me that the first airport I came to was closed. I was advised to land at the one nearest to town. I could hardly see when I landed, but I landed at the airport east of town, fell in a river or canal or irrigation ditch and nearly froze walking to town.
The attendants said the runway I had landed at had been closed for years then touched a place on the wall and out comes a phone. "Bill, this is Jack at the Two Stiffs Selling Gas Service Station. Would you close a flight plan for a Piper Vagabond 4630H?" The flight service had said they were glad to get the call as I was well overdue on the flight plan, but had yet to begin any search for it. Now, all is well.
The attendants could not believe where I landed and that I had to walk to town. They helped me to find a room at a local hotel.
Morning of November 15, 1952, I arose at sunup and found a local cafe where I could regroup and then find a way out to the field where I landed and be on my way from Wennemucca to Battle Mountain, NV.
I would walk to the service station. On picture postcards, the service station was known as the Two Stiffs Selling Gas. One of the attendants took me out to the closed airport where I would need to refuel the airplane. He was evidently familiar with this airport as he knew how to start the gas pump. I had him put a couple of gallons of fuel on the ground to be sure there was no water in the fuel line. This all being done, the attendant helped me start the airplane and I'm off to continue my adventure as it would be, on up to Montana.
Battle Mountain assured and its on to Lucin, Utah. All seems strange. The higher altitude. The colder air. I had little experience flying at these higher altitudes, but it all exciting!
The attendants said the runway I had landed at had been closed for years then touched a place on the wall and out comes a phone. "Bill, this is Jack at the Two Stiffs Selling Gas Service Station. Would you close a flight plan for a Piper Vagabond 4630H?" The flight service had said they were glad to get the call as I was well overdue on the flight plan, but had yet to begin any search for it. Now, all is well.
The attendants could not believe where I landed and that I had to walk to town. They helped me to find a room at a local hotel.
Morning of November 15, 1952, I arose at sunup and found a local cafe where I could regroup and then find a way out to the field where I landed and be on my way from Wennemucca to Battle Mountain, NV.
I would walk to the service station. On picture postcards, the service station was known as the Two Stiffs Selling Gas. One of the attendants took me out to the closed airport where I would need to refuel the airplane. He was evidently familiar with this airport as he knew how to start the gas pump. I had him put a couple of gallons of fuel on the ground to be sure there was no water in the fuel line. This all being done, the attendant helped me start the airplane and I'm off to continue my adventure as it would be, on up to Montana.
Battle Mountain assured and its on to Lucin, Utah. All seems strange. The higher altitude. The colder air. I had little experience flying at these higher altitudes, but it all exciting!
Monday, November 29, 2010
Page 8 - SPLASH! I fell into an irrigation ditch or river.
Close enough. I stopped pulling my airplane to see where I could park it and tie it down.
"How can I tie it down?" I can't see the tie down area or even if there is another tie down area. I walk up to the wing of the tied down airplane, get down on my knees, and started crawling in the direction of a possible tie down spot. Blessed, I found a tie down spot with a rope. If I'm lucky, the next tie down spot or tie down rope should not be that far away. "I found it!"
 |
| Winnemucca Mountain at sunset |
Now to get my airplane and somehow pull it into the tie down location and not hit the airplane that is already there. I have nothing but time, and I will take my time with utmost care. Finally, I have the airplane bedded down for the night. I didn't tie the tail down as there was no wind.
It is getting cold. I'll freeze in the airplane! I should walk to town.
I walk toward the lights of Wennemucca carrying a brief case that contains charts and other important things. Pilot is right beside me. BANG! I walked into a barbed wire fence! Now, I can see the lights of a car, so I know there is a highway near. I can hear water running. I can't swim and don't have a change of clothes. I slowly walk to the highway. Maybe, I can catch a ride into town. SPLASH! I fell into an irrigation ditch or river. I have to tread water and try to make it to the other side. I have no idea where Pilot is. A couple of minutes pass, and I have made it to the other bank, and Pilot is back with me.
A long walk, in freezing temperatures, as I made it into Wennemucca. The first place I come to is a service station and I"m happy that it was still open for business.
I would tell the attendant that I needed a phone, if there was one available, and I needed to close a flight plan since I arrived a couple of hours ago.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Page 7 - Pilot, the dog, thinks I have gone crazy...
Stops at Sacremento, CA and Reno, NV were somewhat routine, but the flight is challenging. The landscape was continuously changing, and I was compelled to keep close track of my flight path.
Coming up on Wennemucca, darkness is coming on fast! If there is an airport, I don't see it. No lights to check the chart. Surface detail is almost gone as I come over the city of Wennemucca. No lights to indicate an airport. Time is running out, and I have to land! But, where? Should I go back to the lighted but closed airport? The landscape is not totally black as I cross a little river or stream and make a turn to the right. I see what appears to be a spot lighter than any place around it. Pilot, the dog, thinks I have gone crazy as he jumps to the baggage compartment. He can sense all is not well. Can't see inside and have no idea how high I am above anything! I can see a tinge of twilight, but nothing in front of the plane as I try to see out the side window to try to see the surface of the ground before I hit it. I'm rolling! Things seem all right. As soon as possible, I come to a stop, and I really don't know where I'm at. I'd like to just set back and think about all of this but complete darkness is coming on. I need to be doing something.
I get out of the airplane soon followed by Pilot, the dog. I can see the lights of Wennemucca in the distance, and how far away, I really don't know.
My eyes, adjusting to the enviroment, I begin to walk away from the airplance to find something to identify where I am.
As I walk, I can see faint outline of a building. As I get closer, I can see it looked like an office building. The door of the building was hanging on one hinge. Now a closer look at things and I see the outline of an airplane. The airplane is cut in two. What did that?! I look out to see my airplane, but it is so dark, I can't see it.
Now what to do with my airplane my life line to Montana or anywhere. I get to the airplane and try to push it, but then thinking I might push it into something and hurt it. I decide to pull it. Maybe I can see something before I hit it. As I pull the plane, I begin to see one edge of the old and abandoned office building, and as I get closer, I can see the outline of the airplane that was tied down near the office building.
Coming up on Wennemucca, darkness is coming on fast! If there is an airport, I don't see it. No lights to check the chart. Surface detail is almost gone as I come over the city of Wennemucca. No lights to indicate an airport. Time is running out, and I have to land! But, where? Should I go back to the lighted but closed airport? The landscape is not totally black as I cross a little river or stream and make a turn to the right. I see what appears to be a spot lighter than any place around it. Pilot, the dog, thinks I have gone crazy as he jumps to the baggage compartment. He can sense all is not well. Can't see inside and have no idea how high I am above anything! I can see a tinge of twilight, but nothing in front of the plane as I try to see out the side window to try to see the surface of the ground before I hit it. I'm rolling! Things seem all right. As soon as possible, I come to a stop, and I really don't know where I'm at. I'd like to just set back and think about all of this but complete darkness is coming on. I need to be doing something.
I get out of the airplane soon followed by Pilot, the dog. I can see the lights of Wennemucca in the distance, and how far away, I really don't know.
My eyes, adjusting to the enviroment, I begin to walk away from the airplance to find something to identify where I am.
As I walk, I can see faint outline of a building. As I get closer, I can see it looked like an office building. The door of the building was hanging on one hinge. Now a closer look at things and I see the outline of an airplane. The airplane is cut in two. What did that?! I look out to see my airplane, but it is so dark, I can't see it.
Now what to do with my airplane my life line to Montana or anywhere. I get to the airplane and try to push it, but then thinking I might push it into something and hurt it. I decide to pull it. Maybe I can see something before I hit it. As I pull the plane, I begin to see one edge of the old and abandoned office building, and as I get closer, I can see the outline of the airplane that was tied down near the office building.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Page 6 - The weather is a no go for now
November 10, 1952. I awake before sun up, check all the things I will need to make the trip. "Pilot" can sense my excitement, and he likes to fly and will be a good companion. I open the door of the trailer home to find the fog so thick you could cut it with a knife. I go over to the office. I can't even see the runway lights. It is so foggy. I call San Francisco tower to see about the weather to find it is no go for now.
Just like the dreams have been telling me. These dreams will not turn me loose, as it is late in the year and it will be near mid morning probably before the fog clears. I will call each hour and hope they don't get irritated with me.
Before going on this flight, I had talked about some of the fuel stops with the San Francisco Land Company which had a Dehavaland Beaver. They would tell me that when I get to Winnemucca, Nevada not to land at the first airport I would come to as it was closed. With no real cross country experience and having never been up in the Winnemucca area before, I will remember what the San Francisco Land Company told me.
How I would like to get an early start! I'm nearly overwhelmed with excitement. It's near noon, and the fog is so thick I can hardly see the end of the runway at the San Mateo airport. One o'clock. I call the San Francisco tower again. No go. Finally about 2pm they called me by name and gave me a clearance to cross the Oakland Bay at a certain altitude.
I bid my wife and daughter goodbye as Pilot and I enter the airplane and started on our way. Weather is marginal, but I'm on my way. Sacremento is the first fuel stop and all is okay. Reno, Nevada, the second fuel stop, and all is okay. Now it is late in the afternoon, go or no go, it is on to Lovelock, Nevada, and the sun is about to set. I have to be very careful as I decide to go on to Winnemucca. Can I make Winnemucca before dark? Now, the sun is down. As I fly on, I begin to lose surface detail. I see car lights, but not the shapes of the cars. As I can probably see the lights of Wennemucca, I see a lighted airport. But the Land Company said that airport is closed!
Just like the dreams have been telling me. These dreams will not turn me loose, as it is late in the year and it will be near mid morning probably before the fog clears. I will call each hour and hope they don't get irritated with me.
Before going on this flight, I had talked about some of the fuel stops with the San Francisco Land Company which had a Dehavaland Beaver. They would tell me that when I get to Winnemucca, Nevada not to land at the first airport I would come to as it was closed. With no real cross country experience and having never been up in the Winnemucca area before, I will remember what the San Francisco Land Company told me.
How I would like to get an early start! I'm nearly overwhelmed with excitement. It's near noon, and the fog is so thick I can hardly see the end of the runway at the San Mateo airport. One o'clock. I call the San Francisco tower again. No go. Finally about 2pm they called me by name and gave me a clearance to cross the Oakland Bay at a certain altitude.
I bid my wife and daughter goodbye as Pilot and I enter the airplane and started on our way. Weather is marginal, but I'm on my way. Sacremento is the first fuel stop and all is okay. Reno, Nevada, the second fuel stop, and all is okay. Now it is late in the afternoon, go or no go, it is on to Lovelock, Nevada, and the sun is about to set. I have to be very careful as I decide to go on to Winnemucca. Can I make Winnemucca before dark? Now, the sun is down. As I fly on, I begin to lose surface detail. I see car lights, but not the shapes of the cars. As I can probably see the lights of Wennemucca, I see a lighted airport. But the Land Company said that airport is closed!
Monday, November 1, 2010
Page 5 - There is my plane that looks worse than I feel.
Evening, November 9, 1952, I'm climbing up on a wing of a Stinson Reliant. I was fueling the airplane when there is someone pulling on my trousers. I look down to see who it might be. One of the mechanics has told me that I was going to Montana tomorrow! I started shaking and nearly crying and told the mechanic not to tease me, that my heart is nearly broken and if he looks on down the row of airplanes, there is my plane that looks worse than I feel. The mechanic said this is not a joke and that when I get through servicing the Stinson to go get the other mechanic or both of them and they will pull the airplane down to the shop!
"How about all of this? How is this all happening?" I nearly pump gas on the ground I'm so excited about this change of events. SOMEONE CARES FOR ME! SOMEONE IS WATCHING OVER ME!
We get the airplane down to the shop. I have told my wife about this strange turn of events, and that I will go to Montana or start to Montana tomorrow. I tell my wife that the mechanics have the airplane in the shop. I had no idea that some time earlier they had ordered a new windshield for the airplane, and they had a used propeller that would work on my plane. Everything is a go despite one of the mechanics wife had earlier in the day had a mild heart seizure. They assured me she was going to be all right, and the mechanics would still be able to work on the plane.
"How about all of this? How is this all happening?" I nearly pump gas on the ground I'm so excited about this change of events. SOMEONE CARES FOR ME! SOMEONE IS WATCHING OVER ME!
We get the airplane down to the shop. I have told my wife about this strange turn of events, and that I will go to Montana or start to Montana tomorrow. I tell my wife that the mechanics have the airplane in the shop. I had no idea that some time earlier they had ordered a new windshield for the airplane, and they had a used propeller that would work on my plane. Everything is a go despite one of the mechanics wife had earlier in the day had a mild heart seizure. They assured me she was going to be all right, and the mechanics would still be able to work on the plane.
 |
| Pilot flew 11 years with Harlan. |
My wife would start cooking some treats and brewing coffee. In two hours flat, the windshield had been replaced, the hole in the wing repaired, just not a final coat of dope or no color. I didn't need the damaged portion of the wing repainted to fly. They would fix a section of the engine cowling and replaced the propeller with the used propeller that would work on that engine. It would perform a little different that the original propeller, but it would for sure work. They even installed a temporary two way radio. All is well. The mechanics and a higher authority had faith in what I can do. Tomorrow, at sun up, I will head off across the San Francisco Bay and on my way to Montana! Even my dog Pilot could sense my excitement. I don't know if I can even sleep, but I don't care. I'm finally going to go to Montana!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Page 4 - My world came to an end, when I prop the plane...
It is Halloween night 1952. The trip to Montana has been planned. I have saved the money, and weather permitting and the airplane checking out ok, I'm going to Montana no matter what anyone says.
Supper over, I go out to the airplane, look it over, and put one shock in front of the right wheel. I put the magnitos to both and will prop the plane. My world came to an end when I prop the plane and the throttle creeps forward and spins the airplane around. As I am getting into the seat to cut the switch, TOO LATE! BANG! I hit an airplane that is next to it as part of the wing of the adjacent plane goes through the windshield of my airplane and through the hair of my head! Of all the airplanes to hit, it would be one owned by a woman aerobatic champion. My dreams have come true. It is now real. I can't go to Montana.
The early evening of Halloween, I will give the little airplane a check flight and see if all the systems say "go." I fly around the patch a few times doing take offs and landings. I notice on the last landing, in the approach mode, the airspeed indicator says "ZERO." It has to say something as I am flying, but this problem will have to be taken care of tonight!
I land and tell my wife that after supper (we live on the airport) I will take the airplane out to the shop and work on it. My wife protests against the idea saying that someone pulling Halloween pranks might come on the airport and hurt me or hurt something. She insists this is something I should not be doing and to let a certified mechanic check out the airspeed indicator.
I was bullheaded. I would not listen. After supper, I will go and work on the airplane after I take it from the tie down area and take it to the shop and just leave it in the shop overnight. My trailer house is right beside the maintenence shop, and I can load the airplance the next day for the trip.
 |
| Loraine Carter - Owner of the Plane I hit. |
Supper over, I go out to the airplane, look it over, and put one shock in front of the right wheel. I put the magnitos to both and will prop the plane. My world came to an end when I prop the plane and the throttle creeps forward and spins the airplane around. As I am getting into the seat to cut the switch, TOO LATE! BANG! I hit an airplane that is next to it as part of the wing of the adjacent plane goes through the windshield of my airplane and through the hair of my head! Of all the airplanes to hit, it would be one owned by a woman aerobatic champion. My dreams have come true. It is now real. I can't go to Montana.
Everyone, even my best friends would tell me not to make the Montana trip because of lack of experience, and the airplane would lack the performance to safely make the trip over the Sierras, and the Rocky Mountains would still be a problem that my experience could not cope with.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Page 3 - Why doesn't someone say "yes?"
One early summer day in 1952, there is an ad in a paper called "Trade a Plane." There would be a Piper Vagabond for sale. I would inquire about the airplane, but could not afford the down payment or monthly payments. Time will tell, maybe something will come up. I continue with dreams about going up to Montana in my own airplane, but all the dreams end in dissappointment.
I'm now living at the San Mateo Airport. I service amny private airplanes every day, and I would see a number of airplanes every day. I would see a number of airplanes that i would like to own, but "if wishes were fishes, we would all take a swim." With the pay that i get I can never ever afford an airplane.
One day, I would see an airplane I would like to have. I liked it so well I wanted to actually kiss it! I was falling in love with it. I was visiting with the owner about what this airplane would cost when my wife comes running down between a row of parked planes, laughing and saying "See what I got?" It would be a letter about the Vagabond I wanted to buy and couldn't afford. The owner would now sell it for half the down payment and cut the monthly payments in half! It is possible, I think, I can get this airplane. I would meet a pilot from England that flew at the San Mateo airport, and it would end up he would go get the airplane for me. It would be setting in the door of a silver mine at Globe, AZ. The dreams continue and as all dreams I never can make a successful flight to Montana.
I bought the Piper Vagabond. It was like I had a new friend to go with a new and little friend. "How much is that dog in the window? I do wish that dog was for sale." He was for sale, and I needed a flying partner. This shepard cocker spaniel dog would be named "Pilot" and he would fly with me for eleven years.
Now, just maybe, I will be able to make a flight to Montana and show off this little jewel. I will carefully plan everything it will take to make this flight. Everyone tells me no, that I will not have enough fuel range to make certain legs of the flight nor will I have the experience. Why doesn't someone say yes?
I'm now living at the San Mateo Airport. I service amny private airplanes every day, and I would see a number of airplanes every day. I would see a number of airplanes that i would like to own, but "if wishes were fishes, we would all take a swim." With the pay that i get I can never ever afford an airplane.
One day, I would see an airplane I would like to have. I liked it so well I wanted to actually kiss it! I was falling in love with it. I was visiting with the owner about what this airplane would cost when my wife comes running down between a row of parked planes, laughing and saying "See what I got?" It would be a letter about the Vagabond I wanted to buy and couldn't afford. The owner would now sell it for half the down payment and cut the monthly payments in half! It is possible, I think, I can get this airplane. I would meet a pilot from England that flew at the San Mateo airport, and it would end up he would go get the airplane for me. It would be setting in the door of a silver mine at Globe, AZ. The dreams continue and as all dreams I never can make a successful flight to Montana.
I bought the Piper Vagabond. It was like I had a new friend to go with a new and little friend. "How much is that dog in the window? I do wish that dog was for sale." He was for sale, and I needed a flying partner. This shepard cocker spaniel dog would be named "Pilot" and he would fly with me for eleven years.
Now, just maybe, I will be able to make a flight to Montana and show off this little jewel. I will carefully plan everything it will take to make this flight. Everyone tells me no, that I will not have enough fuel range to make certain legs of the flight nor will I have the experience. Why doesn't someone say yes?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)