What Goes In Must Come Out- Plane in the Garage

Funny thing about a rental truck- the rental company wants it back, empty, on their time frame. They are all too happy to start charging some astronomical amount per day for every day that the truck is late in being returned, and they do have the credit card number to charge it to. And , in this case, my signature authorizing them to do so. So the very next order of business is to get that plane out of the truck and into my garage. Why a garage in the middle of town with nary a runway in sight, a reasonable person might ask. Because it is available space that I don't have to spend any additional money to use. Seems like a reasonable solution to a slightly unreasonable situation. As it took about 4.5 (there were 5 of us on site but only room for 4 on the plane for loading, the .5 guy was for moral support) people to load the plane onto the truck it was going to take more than one to unload it. True, gravity will be working with us on the unloading but none the less I needed a crew to get this job done and still have a project worth doing. And a crew I did get. The two guys that you can see in the pictures are Bill, brown coat, and Dave, green coat. Unseen is the lovely Miss Marlys who was handling the ropes in the nose of the truck. Bill and Dave are my regular Saturday morning flying partners and without hesitation or question they showed up ready to work. With a bit of trepidation, some seat of the pants engineering, that safety rope wrapped around the internal truck box frame and a mighty heave ho, like a baby being born, that plane popped out of the truck and into the waiting arms of my side of the garage. My side of the garage because I did have to promise the lovely Miss Marlys that she would be parking her car in her side of the garage before the snow did fly. I must confess that although I did indeed get her car back into the garage before the snow did fly, it was only because winter mercifully held off all thru December. So N5215H is safe, snug and dry, tucked away waiting for rebirth.

On the Road Again- Without Willie

I'm so far behind that I may never catch up. So, I've got an airplane in the back of a 26' Penske one way rental truck in basically Spokane, Washington. All I need to do is drive this rig home. Easy, peasy. Just how crazy am I? I ended the first night in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho which is practically next door to Spokane- but still in another state which was my most basic requirement for stopping for the day. This was nice, flat uncomplicated driving which was exactly what I needed- practice for hauling my precious cargo. It also turned out to be the end of my cell phone reception for about a day and a half. You never miss the phone so much as when it just won't work. Day two was up and onto Montana- one big ass big sky state. With mountains. Lesson one was that the truck does not really like going up the mountains. Much diesel got burned during this lesson as the truck crawled up the mountain. Lesson two was that on Sunday it is entirely possible to get exactly no radio reception. I had always assumed that on Sunday, of all days, no matter where you are in the good old US of A, between FM and AM on the radio dial, you could always at least get a station with some fire and brimstone preacher yelling about eternal damnation or some such thing. Nope. It is entirely possible to get nothing but the rumble of the diesel engine lumbering along. By great fortune and excellent random timing I did connect with an old college friend who lives in Helena, MT, which was exactly on my GPS directed course, and during my all to short visit she figured out that I had not planned this drive very well and took me to her library where she checked out a 27 disk book on CD for my driving entertainment. A 27 CD book!!! Holy shit what had I gotten into? The book, Game of Thrones, was absolutely perfect for driving and I pulled into Ithaca as disc 25 finished up. Thank you Tamara. I dare say that I probably pushed on a bit further each night just to finish another chapter. Anyway day 1, at least my first full day on the road, ended in Billings, MT. Along the way I stopped at an official state sponsored rest stop to use a pay phone- pay phones are just about gone from the American landscape like the buffalo- and the bill for that collect call just came in- $30.00 for 10 minutes. Ouch! Billings is not my favorite MT city, cruddy room, cruddy restaurant. No need to hurry back. In general the weather for this drive was nothing short of spectacular, except for the smoke. There was smoke on the horizon and in the air from Montana to Ohio. I never did see the fires but they had to be something special to behold to make smoke like that. Day two was just lots and lots of driving- Billings to St.Cloud, Minnesota. In North Dakota I got back cell reception- yeah!!! Being able to communicate was more important than actually calling someone. I kept listening to my book, now deeply engrossed in the story. There were 2 places along the hiway in ND where the water being held back by sandbags was actually higher than the road. And this was months after the mighty Mouse river had roared. I pushed as hard as I could, trying to get to Minneapolis so that I might visit my brother-in-law and his lovely wife, but I flat ran out of steam by St.Cloud and had to call it a day. Or night. This might have been a mistake because the next morning I found myself firmly stuck in Minneapolis rush hour traffic. The other drivers were nice enough but my god who the hell wants to sit in traffic like that? Ever? So much for my schedule. The GPS went crazy resetting my time to the next waypoint. Of course, once past Minneapolis the road opened up and the miles rolled on by- until Chicago. Chicago pm rush hour that is. Its like a graduate course for the Minneapolis drivers. Once again the other drivers were great and very forgiving- which I needed- but I can't imagine just what is it that allows a person to justify this kind of agony on a daily basis. No thank you. Day 3 ended in Burlington, Ohio. I was trying for Toledo- I wanted to yell out "Holy Toledo"- but, seeing double and feeling fuzzy, it was another done day. Never too tired for a cold beer and I sure deserved this one. Wednesday, the day four that wasn't supposed to be, and I'm up and out before the dawn. Home. The thought of not having to sit in that truck anymore propelled me onward. Sleeping in my own bed- please. Hugs and kisses- you betcha. Work- well it does pay the bills. I don't recall most of this last leg of the trip, it was just something to get done. Small party at the New York state line. 2:30 pm and I rolled up to my office. The trip was over.

Back To Work- Picking Up an Airplane

One of these days I'll figure out how to arrange the pictures in the order that I want. OK, picking up the plane. Friday,September 9th, a 5 pm flight out of Ithaca, landing Spokane at 10:30 local time. beautiful late summer weather, nothing to worry about, right? Delta airlines decided to give me a run for my money right out of the gate- literally. There are no commercial passenger planes based in Ithaca which means that in order to take a flight out of Ithaca, another flight must first make it into Ithaca. The inbound flight that would become my outbound flight was late coming in but they knew where it was and everything should be fine. That may have been true in Ithaca but now this plane would be late getting into Detroit and that's where the trouble began- just as we were approaching the motor city, ATC gave us a 20 minute hold. Now my entire lay over time was gone. Fortunately I kind of planned for something like this and all I had with me was one legitimate carry one. I ended up in a dead run to my next gate, boarding only a couple of minutes after the last boarding call. Looks like no dinner for me. Ultimately the whole thing was no big deal and I ended up in Spokane as planned. I had booked a hotel room at the closest hotel to the airport terminal that I could find- 100 yards is pretty close. One cold beer and a total collapse. This worked well because by Saturday morning I was fully on Pacific time. The truck rental place opened at 8:30, so of course I was there by 8. A beautiful blue sky day- you could find a cloud if you wanted one. I brought my GPS from home and once I had my destination programmed in it was time to hit the hiway. GPS selected a different route than I had anticipated, but what the hell, I gave it a shot. Hunters, WA does not readily appear on a WA state map- its too small. Northwest of Spokane by about 80 miles, along side Lake Roosevelt. Crushingly beautiful country, golden wheat fields as far as the eye can see. And lodge pole pines as I cross over the hills. Not very many people. In Hunters I met up with my nephew, Kevin Timmreck, who I've hired for the day to help me. Kevin lives in Ione, WA about 60 miles northeast of Hunters. Together we found our final destination. To say off the beaten path cannot do it justice. The sign said "primitive road" and meant it. Good God we were out there. But just a bit ahead, in front of the house, there was Mrs. Sipes waiting for us. She directed us out to the hangar and runway and for the very first time I laid eyes on N5215H- my new plane. I also got to meet Robert Sipes, the soon to be previous owner of the plane and his son Stephan. A quick examination of the plane and the log books and a small business transaction took place. Now she was mine. The Sipes' were great- they made the whole pick up the plane deal work with their great attitude and willingness to pitch in and work. And work we did. Taking the wings and tail feathers off an airplane looks to be a fairly simple affair- on paper. 97 degrees out, 15% relative humidity. You can't sweat because every drop of moisture has been evaporated from your body. I don't think anybody peed all day. Nuts and bolts that hadn't been disturbed in who knows how many years aren't happy when you come after them with a wrench. The left wing made a strong argument to stay right where it was. The horizontal stabilizer didn't care for our plan to remove it. But will, determination and absolute need won out and the plane did indeed come apart. So there we are with a wingless plane and a truck- now how do we get the plane into the truck? Stephan came to the rescue with some massive 4x10x13' planks and then the sheer brute force generated by a small group of hot and tired men put that plane in the back of the truck. The wheel chocks were screwed to the floor of the truck to keep the nose of the plane as tight to the front wall of the truck as possible and the wings were kind of hung on strapping on either side of the truck. Everything else was loaded as best possible to minimize potential damage and we were ready to roll. 6 hours start to finish. Not too shabby for a first time plane in a tuck guy.

Oh No! Here we go again.

work. sometimes it is just another one of those four letter words not meant to be uttered in polite company. work. work just sucked me back in and buried me with too much to do. the whole true cross country trip started to become something of a dream. I really did make that flight, right? A weekend day flight here and there, out for breakfast with friends, a couple of grass runways under the wheels, but no grand adventures. The credit card bills started rolling in and a true accounting of the trip was at hand. no avoiding it, a whole lot of expensive airplane 100LL gas got burned and now was the time to pay up. my hoped for trip to Oshkosh, the pilot's mecca, no longer on the calendar. No regrets about the trip that is now behind me, truly none at all, but that one grand adventure can't possibly be all there is to look forward to this year.

good news; new adventure is at hand! and oddly, weirdly, coincidentally, by some strange cosmic twist of fate, the alignment of the planets, global warming and the constant movement of the magnetic north pole, I'm headed right back to Spokane, WA. it makes me smile just to think about it.

the new mission, because it really is a mission, is to bring back a 1949 Piper Clipper. It would be lovely to fly this pretty little plane back to NY but now that I know what that journey entails and since I don't know this new plane at all, the wings are coming off and the whole plane is going into the back of a box truck for the long ride home.

so, the adventure is at hand. a commercial flight out, a seriously long drive in a rental truck back. lots to do, to plan, to prepare for. far from my base of resources I must be on top of everything from moment one. I can hardly wait. details to follow.

life is good and the livin' is easy.

Epilogue Uno

The lawn got mowed first, before it grew so much as another millimeter. First after hugging the dog. We unpacked, cleaned the cat box, did the laundry, watered the plants, grilled our dinner, downloaded pictures onto the computer and read the mail. We are home again. The trip went really well, in some ways even better than hoped or planned for. The plane performed perfectly, we managed to avoid the real bad weather and we stayed on the big picture of our schedule- I was home in time for work on Monday. The pleasant added bonus is what we learned along the way. I learned all about 21374 flying at altitude, about mountain passes and clouds, about wind and landing, about leaning the fuel mixture for more than economy, that Sprint/Nextel does not have a signal between Oshkosh and Spokane, and a little bit about the flooding thru the heartland of this country. Marlys learned an awful lot about flying- not manipulating the plane thru space, but flying. When you learn to fly its hard to learn about flying because its all new and you're so busy trying to handle the plane. Marlys now knows all about clouds and weather, fuel, parking and tie down, courtesy cars, flying time versus clock time, airspeed vs. ground speed, maps, charts and GPS, Air Traffic Control, holes in clouds, getting on top, what rain looks like before you get to it. She became a very good navigator and second in command. Now the trick is to keep her in practice.

Day 8- eight days a week

Eight days a week- thank you the Beatles. The Last Leg. Homeward Bound. Marlys beat the alarm clock up- 6 am and we're moving. The taxi to the airport will be here at 7:30. We make it to breakfast in the motel lobby, fresh waffles too good to resist although neither one of us seems particularly hungry. Flight planning indicates that we will be on the ground in Ithaca in 2 hours and 27 minutes. I'll believe that when it happens but we are getting just a bit excited to get going. The taxi arrives early and we are on our way. Luck is with us- when we arrive at the FBO we find the fuel guy refueling a jet. This is good because he wasn't scheduled to start his day until 9 am and we must have fuel- he refuels us second. More good luck, the price of fuel at this airport has gone down twenty cents a gallon since last Sunday. The weather is hazy, once again a light wind right down the runway. Mornings are good to us. The forecast calls for a tailwind all the way to Ithaca. Minutes later we are up and away- headed right over Canada as a shortcut to NY. This means that we need a discrete code on the transponder to be in Canadian airspace, much like an IFR flight. 5,500' and absolutely smooth sailing. No less than 110 knots over the ground- sometimes as much as 120. Canadian ATC is great, the lake crossing uneventful. One hour and twenty five minutes after takeoff we are in NY airspace. Can this be true? We are exactly on time with our flight plan. Our good luck keeps rolling on. In spite of our good ground speed, time seems to drag. The Finger Lakes are a navigator's dream- so easy to see, to recognize to pinpoint your location by. I've got Keuka, there's Seneca, I think I see Milliken's smokestack. Thirty miles out from Ithaca we can hear the scenic flight tour pilots calling out Taughannock Falls- we radio the tower. It's Father's Day and that means the fly-in pancake breakfast at East Hill Flying Club. We had hoped to make the breakfast and now it's all going to work out perfectly. Lots of plane traffic, the tower is really working hard. We call out a 3 mile left base for 32 and get cleared to land. It's all so familiar now, I've made this landing hundreds of times before. Smooth and easy, roll out to Foxtrot, to the ramp with you tower. We taxi to the hangar, move the car, unload the plane, load the car. The plane's leading edges and the windshield finally get the cleaning they deserve. I call my Dad to wish him a happy father's day, Marlys calls her Mom to let her know that we have arrived. It's done. This great adventure is over- at least for now. What should we do next? Well those flyin' flapjacks look pretty good.....

Day 7- Does this make a week?

Early morning is a pilot's friend. Thruout this trip the early morning weather was about the best of the day. 7 pm or so and things tend to settle down again, but that's a bit of hit or miss. 7 am is almost always great. Good thing we are morning people. Day Seven, day two of the trip home, and its up at 6, a light breakfast with my mother-in-law and off to the airport. A spectacular day opened up in front of us, clear blue sky, a light breeze down the runway from the east and we were on our way, destination St. Cloud, MN. At 5,500' the air was smooth and the flying easy with a slight push and ground speeds around 110 knots. Effortless, I had the wing leveler on, feet flat on the floor. One eye on the weather though because there was definitely a line of storms in the area of Minneapolis. About 2 and 1/2 hours in it became clear that a little better examination of weather conditions was the prudent thing to do and so we landed in Alexandria, MN a tad short of our original goal. A nice young lady refueled the plane while we de-fueled our bladders. The weather picture was probably the most confounding one we had the entire trip- there was pleanty of nasty weather out there but where was it going and when would it get there? The answer my friend was blowing in the wind ( sorry but MN is Dylan's home state) so we did what seemed like the only reasonable thing to do- file IFR and go. Well it was more like go and file IFR in the air. Regardless, the ATC guys vectored us around the weather with a minimum of cloud time and we broke out about 100 miles from Oshkosh, WI, our new destination. Easy, Peasy. Another stop, another bathroom break, more fuel. Ladies and Gentlemen, the absolute winner for cheapest fuel along our route of travel, and some very accommodating people to boot, Basler Aviation, Oshkosh, WI @ $5.39 per gallon full service. Lunch, another look at the weather and it was very apparent that we needed to cross Lake Michigan today or get ready to sit for what looked like a week waiting for the storms to run out of rain- and thunder and lightning. Conditions were what could be best described as hazy, which means that there isn't much view forward, like to the end of the prop or so it seemed. This time we filed IFR on the ground because we wanted another someone paying attention to where we were over that lake- its about 55 miles wide where we crossed and that's an awful lot of cold water to go swimming in. Yes we had our life vests close at hand. 21374 was running perfectly, I would not have gone this way if she was running otherwise. Destination St. Clair, MI. Once again easy, peasy. The toughest job was finding the field to land. When traveling from East to West the time changes work out in your favor- you get to land before the FBO closes and the fuel guy goes home. Traveling from West to east, not so much. We missed the FBO and the fuel guy by 40 minutes. Beautiful night in north easy Michigan and it would have been lovely to camp out, but we wanted a bed and a shower and some food, and a beer wouldn't hurt either. Fortunately, Marlys brought along the GPS from her car and we were able to look up the hotel and the taxi lickety split and before long Mikey, professional driver, had us in his cab and on our way into Marysville, MI. I love Mr. Garmin and I don't begrudge him one penny of all that money he is making while keeping me headed in the right direction. Mikey set us up for the ride back to the airport the next morning and directed us to the best restaurant in town. A couple of cold ones, black russians for Marlys, a meal that couldn't be beat, a comfy bed and this day comes to a close. Home is less than 3 hours away.