Steve Job
Pre-takeoff checklist
This is pretty long, and I'm sure there will plenty of advice on how we could have made this trip safer, but this my account of how my airplane partner and I made the trip back home after buying John Baker's airplane.
This all started in April 2012. Actually it started much earlier, but for the purposes of this narrative, April is a good place to begin.
In April, we sold our Piper Cherokee 235. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. That plane had 235 horsepower, a constant speed propeller, and great performance. We had just spent a small fortune on a paint job, and the airplane was gorgeous! But all that performance came at a price. This was really more of a cross country airplane than a “let’s go fly because it’s a beautiful day” airplane. It took a lot of avgas to just tool around the pattern, and we weren’t making many trips.
Then came Oshkosh…
I was there, and so was Bernie, my airplane partner. We once again were bitten by the aviation bug (of course), and started to consider Light Sport Aircraft (LSAs). But the ones that most interested us most were north of 120K. Bernie is a little older than me, in great health, but wanted to plan ahead for a time when he may not be able to pass his FAA class 3 physical (physicals aren’t required for LSAs). Those LSAs sure looked like a lot of fun, and Bernie scored a ride in a Van’s RV-12, (less than 120K, but still very expensive). But we wisely realized (actually Jean, Bernie’s wife, wisely reminded us) we were under the influence of the “spell of Oshkosh”, and shouldn’t do anything rash (like take a second mortgage out on my house).
After Oshkosh, Bernie and I continued to talk from time to time, and planned to attend (via a rental plane) an LSA expo in Mt. Vernon, Illinois in September. Unfortunately, the weather was poor on the one day I was able to attend, and since one of our goals was to get some demo rides, we decided not to drive either (4 -5 hour trip one way in a car).
Bernie and I still talked on the phone from time to time, checked the “for sale” websites for completed LSAs, but never took it beyond that. In the mean time, Bernie rented and flew the Piper Warrior (PA28-161) he had learned in at the Pontiac, Illinois airport, and loved it! I also have a fondness for that model, and the majority of my meager hours are in the PA28-161. It seemed the Warrior was the perfect compromise airplane, given the type of flying that we would actually be logging. The modest fuel flow of 7-8 gallons per hour was a BIG improvement over the 235, and you could take this airplane for a spur of the moment sightseeing flight without feeling guilty about how much fuel you need to buy. Plus they are available at a price much cheaper than 100K.
I’ve been reading the PilotsofAmerica website for years, but not contributing very often. I’m a low time pilot (approximately 350 hours), and there are many experts (with many opinions) on that site, so what little aviation knowledge I have seems insignificant. But aviation is my favorite hobby. I have bookshelves (plural) packed with aviation related books, and I’m constantly trying to learn new things. One interesting story I had been following on this site was the saga of John Baker in San Diego. I learned he owned what seemed to be a very well maintained Warrior, had many “adventures” in obtaining his certificate, and now “possibly” had to retake his Private oral and flight test due to a problem the FAA had with his examiner. From his writings, it sounded like he was ready to throw in the (aviation) towel.
I talked with Bernie about giving up on the LSA dream, and buying an affordable Warrior. The price delta would certainly pay for plenty of certified maintenance and avgas. And since I knew John’s Warrior was for sale, I proposed we make him an offer. Bernie was at first reluctant to buy an airplane sight unseen in San Diego of all places (we live in central Illinois), but I told him that I’ve followed John’s writings for years, and he seemed like a man who would not misrepresent the condition of the airplane. Plus the big bonus – we would get to fly it back home! We had never flown in the west, and the desert and mountains seemed both exciting and a bit intimidating. But we were up for the adventure!
John and I came to an agreement regarding the price, and Bernie and I made arrangements to fly (commercial) to San Diego within a week. We flew in on an October Saturday, and John’s friend Bob met us Sunday morning at the hotel, and took us to the airport where we finally got to see the plane. It was not misrepresented. It wasn’t a cream puff, but then John never claimed it was. Of course the mechanical condition is the most important thing (unless you want to look great while you’re plunging into the desert), and from the maintenance records, this plane was in top shape.
Bernie and I had a short demo flight with John’s friend Bob (a CFI), then we consummated the deal with John. By then it was early Sunday afternoon, so I didn’t know how far we would get, but John explained there was weather coming in the next day and we should “skedaddle” (I think that those were his exact words). Bernie and I packed the plane to the maximum legal gross weight (of course), and got out of there.
Bob and John had given us some great advice on how to leave the immediate San Diego area (avoiding the many airspace restrictions), but from there we were on our own. I had poured over the charts many times, and it appeared if we could get high enough soon enough, the “foothills” (they looked like mountains to a flatlander like me) just east of San Diego shouldn’t be a problem. But a Warrior at legal gross weight isn’t exactly a great climber.
We headed east over the foothills, and it became obvious very soon we didn’t have the performance for a direct route. We had terrain information available on both Garmin GPSs (Area 510 and 796 – current data), and my iPad (a paid for Foreflight subscription, but I also had the trial version of WingX and Pilot installed), and it showed plenty of red – dead ahead. So we had a choice. Either fly in circles or some type of racetrack pattern to gain some altitude, or don’t try to fly the direct route. This may be obvious to western pilots, but I decided to cross a lower foothill north of our route first. No problem and we had at least 2000 feet to spare. But the mountain (they sure seemed like mountains to me) directly in our path now was much higher, so we turned southwest, and found a lower mountain we could clear. Then finally, after passing over that one by at least 2000 feet, we could head for the Salton Sea, and we were past the tall stuff. I’m sure this all seems tame to most pilots, but it was very exciting for us. I’ve read far too many “box canyon” stories!
From there we made a beeline for Needles, California, which would end up being our final destination of the day. We flew over the valley near the Salton Sea, but I had originally wanted to land in Indio just because it was below sea level and that seemed like a fun thing to write in my logbook. In the end, we decided to press on, since the altitude we had gained was so precious, and I didn’t want have to buy it back again.
After the valley, we saw a lot of – desolate unpopulated desert. But occasionally, and we noticed this along the entire trip, there was a house in the middle of nowhere. I would love to talk to those folks and find out what attraction there is in living in such conditions. I certainly don’t understand the rationale, but it obviously takes all kinds of people to make up this world. And that’s a good thing, since otherwise life would be very boring.
I had thought flying over the desert would be disconcerting, so we had brought along some basic survival gear. Maybe too much, given the extra weight. We had a collapsible shovel, a whistle, a signaling mirror, 18 bottles of water John provided, hats, extra clothing, etc. For most of our journey, there were only a few times where I had to worry about safely being able to put the plane down due to the rugged terrain, but once we landed we would obviously be on our own.
One great new safety gadget we had onboard was a “Spot” personal tracking device. The unit itself was $100, but it cost another $100 to activate and set up who gets notified if we push the S.O.S. or help button and an additional $50 to allow friends and family to follow our trip on a website (it updated our progress every 10 minutes). This turned out to be a great investment. It was like a TV show for wives, parents, siblings, and friends, and when we called home at the end of the day, they already knew exactly where we were (and where we parked the plane – for crying out loud). We threw this little device up on the dash each day, and created live entertainment for our families!
We finally made it to Needles about 2 hours after leaving San Diego, landed, and found – nobody. The place was deserted – and hot! There was a credit card activated fuel pump, and a small and (thankfully) air-conditioned building nearby, but otherwise not a soul. We noticed a few cars parked near an abandoned building, but who knows how long they had been there. In the air-conditioned building, there were a few business cards with the phone numbers of several local hotels. By local, I mean 7 miles away, since for some reason that’s how far the airport is from the town.
I started calling the phone numbers hoping we could get a ride, while Bernie refueled the plane. On the third try, I found that the Motel 6 manager was willing to drive out to pick us up herself. Very good news! She showed up about 30 minutes later, and we were treated to a somewhat wild ride in her little Corolla (lots of rocks went flying on every corner). It turned out the motel was located next to a Denny’s, so we checked in, and had an excellent chicken fried steak and shakes at the restaurant. Then we went back to the room, where I promptly fell asleep. I had been up most of the previous night in San Diego doing some last minute preparation work, so after the exciting flight that afternoon, I was beat. Bernie left the room and thoroughly enjoyed the desert evening. Needles is an interesting place. Incredibly hot during the day, but the evenings were great!
Monday morning we called Flight Services, and planned our trip. Another day of perfect weather, which I guess should be expected in the desert. The motel manager drove us back to airport, and we took off. There were some mountains near the beginning of our route, so we circled Needles a few times to gain altitude. Finally we were high enough to follow I-40 east through the mountain passes.
I-40 had been suggested (thank you Dr. Bruce from PilotsofAmeria) as a great way to make it across the desert, and it was. That long ribbon of civilization gave us comfort (and a convenient emergency landing spot) along the way.
Part of our plan that day was to see the Grand Canyon from the air. Therefore, we soon had to leave our little I-40 safety net and headed northeast. I had read up a little on the flight restrictions in that area, and all I wanted to do that day was follow the canyon from west to east near the airspace border in order to get close enough for a good view from the south. We ended up above the Grand Canyon airport, and flirted with (but never crossed) the airspace boundaries. The view was spectacular, but we were a little disappointed. We weren’t high enough or close enough for a good view of the bottom of the canyon, and we never saw the Colorado River. But Bernie did get some great pictures or the canyon walls!
After the Grand Canyon tour, we headed back to I-40 and Winslow, Arizona for a refueling and rest stop. The FBO there was inhabited, and very nice. We elected to use full service this time, and have them fuel the airplane for us. I instructed the nice young man to fill the tanks about two inches above the tabs, since we didn’t want to be very heavy taking off at this high altitude airport (the density altitude was above 6000’ that day). But the lineman filled it all the way to bottom of the filler neck. Oh well. At least they have long runways in Winslow. We taxied the plane, and I mistook a runway for a taxiway. There was absolutely no traffic, and very little wind, so I told Bernie we might as well just take off since we’re on the runway anyway. After a long take off run, we’re off, but climbing at an anemic rate of 200-300 fpm (feet per minute). Bernie noticed what appeared to be some sort of shanty town just off the end of the runway. Cars and junk were discarded everywhere. I guess that’s what happens when land really has no value.
We started a slow climb, and mostly followed I-40 towards Albuquerque, New Mexico. We passed over Gallup, and realized that the triangular restricted airspace depicted on our charts just south of Gallup appeared to be a government missile base. We stayed well clear.
The scenery out the window was so different from what we’re used to. We mainly have corn fields and bean fields in Central Illinois, but the landscape of New Mexico was so beautiful and different. I’ve driven this route a few times, and I flown over it (in airliners) more times, but the best way to really appreciate the view is at about 2000 ft AGL (above ground level) in a small airplane. We looked at each other and laughed. Bernie mentioned we would never be satisfied flying over a boring corn field again!
And the ride certainly wasn’t boring either. The thermals over the desert were “interesting”. Bernie and I took turns flying the airplane on the proper heading and altitude, but holding a precise altitude turned out to be elusive. We would be droning along at 9500 feet, when all of a sudden we were going 20 knots faster in a 1000 fpm updraft. Wheeeeeee! Bernie wasn’t quite as thrilled about this as I was. Of course what the updraft giveth, a downdraft would soon taketh away. Lots of fun!
Finally, as we got nearer to Albuquerque, I called approach control on the radio, and they assigned me a squawk code. For some silly reason, they had to repeat the same code to us twice. They obviously couldn’t identify us on their radar. Oops. “Somebody” (me) forgot to turn the transponder back to “alt” back in Winslow. It may have had something to do with not following a checklist during our abbreviated departure once we discovered we were on a runway. Lesson learned.
I quickly corrected the situation, and they instructed us to please climb to 11,500 feet or higher. I thought we were good at 9,500 feet, and told approach we may not be able to climb that high, but we would give it a shot. Amazingly, the airplane kept on climbing to about 12,500 ft, which gave us a comfortable margin above the 9000 foot mountains just past Albuquerque. I had originally thought we would have to follow I-40 through the mountain passes, or go around the mountains on either side of the city. There was a TFR (temporary flight restriction) to the north for a hot air balloon festival, so the altitude we gained made it easy to go straight across Albuquerque on a 90 degree heading. Once we cleared those mountains, we had hoped to land in Las Vegas, NM, but the winds were howling there. Plan B was to continue to Dalhart, Texas, and that is where we ended up for the night.
Dalhart is in northern Texas, and the winds were howling there too, but the landing was uneventful, and the FBO (also inhabited) let us use a courtesy car (actually a Dodge pickup) for transportation to the motel, and restaurant.
We found a decent motel, and decided that since we were in Texas cattle country, we should have a steak dinner. Bernie’s steak was great, mine was just ok, and then we went back to the motel to call it a night.
It was a relief that night to know that we had successfully crossed “the sandbox” (as John Baker likes to call it), and for now on the only thing we could run into was weather. In fact I was a little giddy, and reminisced over the adventure we had that day. I never thought I would have the opportunity to ever do this type of flying. We were really having fun!
We could actually make it back home the next day, but our goal wasn’t to make it there in the minimum amount of time. Our goal was to have some fun! So we decided our next stop would be somewhere in Kansas. I looked at our route, and Dodge City was right there. Who doesn’t want to go to Dodge City, just so they can say afterwards that they “got out of Dodge”? Then I also noticed Hutchinson was along our route. A neighbor of mine was from that area, and had mentioned they had a great air and space museum. Sounds good to me. So we had a plan.
We called Flight Services Tuesday morning (perfect weather again), and headed for the airport. Unfortunately the key they gave us wouldn’t unlock the doors on the courtesy “pickup”, so Bernie had hidden his camera and video camera behind the front seats. Oops. He forgot he had left them there, but didn’t realize it until we were in Dodge City. That’s when he also realized he didn’t have his cell phone with him anymore. Double oops. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself.
We took off for Kansas from Dalhart, and noticed the terrain was gradually getting lower and lower. The winds at Dodge City were strong, but not too far off the nose. But there were actually tumbleweeds rolling across the runway. How appropriate is that for Dodge City?
We refueled, and the FBO let us borrow a tired old purple Plymouth Breeze for us to go to town, look around, and get some lunch. That’s when Bernie realized he didn’t have his camera, video camera, or cell phone. We had dinner at an old train depot (recommended), and called the Dalhart FBO. Yes, they found his cameras in the truck, and will send those items UPS to his home address, but still no cell phone. Oh well.
We drove back to the airport, preflighted the plane, and started to taxi to the runway (the winds in Kansas are incredible!). Then we heard a call on Unicom for the plane departing the airport (us). It seems the missing cell phone was on the ramp near where we parked the plane. Yeah! We taxied back, and they handed the phone to Bernie. Everything is coming up roses now! We went back to the runway, took off for Hutchinson, and got out of Dodge!
In Hutchinson the winds were also strong, and shifting. The ATIS indicated runway 35 as the preferred runway, but the tower cleared us to land on runway 4 since the winds had changed. We were on a 1 mile (or less) final, when the tower mentioned the winds had shifted again (gusts above 32 knots), and asked if we wanted to change back to 35. Sure! We did a quick dance over to the other runway, and landed in those gusty winds.
The FBO in Hutchinson was by far the fanciest we had visited so far. It turned out they are also a Cirrus dealer, but they treated us wonderfully. They had some tourist information about the Cosmosphere (the air and space museum), but also there was some material about an underground salt mine not far from the airport. It was too late to take in the museum that afternoon, but we were good to go for the mine. They wouldn’t let keep a courtesy car overnight, but they did have a new Fiat for rent. Sure. Those things are slightly bigger than a smart car, but we managed to cram most of the luggage in what you might call a trunk and the rest in the back seat. We then headed for the salt mine (where Bernie said his teachers had always told him he would end up).
The mine was great! We took an elevator 600 feet down (in the dark), and learned a lot about mining salt. Amazing stuff. The section of the mine we were in was active from the 20’s to the 50’s. Salt mines have the perfect environment to store stuff for the very long term, so besides pristine looking 1950’s trash (no effort is ever made to remove trash from a mine – go figure), different movie studios (and I’m sure other companies) used this mine to store old films and movie props. We had a private underground train ride (we were the last 2 customers of the day), then later a private underground tram ride, since the guide needed to close down the ride and asked us if we wanted to come along. Sure!
The elevator ride back up was crowded, and there were several little kids on board. Once again, it was pitch black (the way “real miners” do it), and one of the kids complained that somebody bumped him. I said he should prove it. Another voice asked if he saw who did it (remember it was dark), and everybody laughed. It’s always nice to make a human connection with strangers.
We drove our Fiat to the motel (luckily my Garmin Aera 510 doubles as an automotive GPS), then went to Freddy’s Hamburgers for dinner. Let me tell you, Freddy really knows how to make a hamburger!
Then we went back to the motel, and made plans for the next day. It seemed like weather would be a factor if we delayed our trip home any longer, so we decided to complete the remaining 460 nautical miles the next afternoon. But we planned to visit the museum in the morning.
Wednesday morning we traveled to the museum, and it seemed like this place was custom built to have all the cool stuff that I love. There were rockets, and airplanes (including the SR-71), and space capsules (including THE Apollo 13, and the Mercury capsule Liberty Bell, which laid on the ocean floor for many years). Plus there was a large collection of Soviet era space stuff. I highly recommend this museum for anyone remotely in the vicinity!
We drove back to the airport at around 11:30 AM, and preflighted our airplane. Flight Services promised lots of tailwind help the higher we went, but some mild turbulence at our destination. So we took off, and started climbing. Our groundspeed kept climbing, until we were going about 138 knots at 9,500 feet of altitude. But then I got greedy. Would it be better at 11,500 feet? So we slowly climbed up to that lofty altitude, and the answer turned out to be “NO”. In fact we slowed down a little. I saw no reason to continue that high, so back down we came.
By that time Kansas City was on the horizon. We could legally fly right over the top of class “B” airspace, but I had never done that before, and I didn’t know how popular that would make us with the Kansas City ATC. So we decided to go slightly south of their airspace, then head northeast as soon as we were past it. We got some great pictures of the K.C. skyline, and then headed for a refueling stop in Burlington, Iowa (my original home state).
Bernie had been to Burlington before for his private check ride, and I had been there during my IFR long cross country, so it wasn’t a totally new experience for us. We landed (again with the strong gusty winds), refueled the plane at the self-serve pumps, and headed to the FBO for a bio-break.
Well at least I thought it was the FBO. It turns out this class “E” airport has scheduled airline service, with the TSA and everything, and we walked in to the waiting area for the passengers. The automatic doors only worked one way, so we appeared to be stuck. Bernie spotted the door to the FBO portion of the building, and we asked the folks there how to get back out to the ramp. They told us the code to the gate, and we headed back to the plane. We piled in, started the plane, and let the brakes off to roll to the runway. But…we weren’t going anywhere. I told Bernie the brakes must be stuck, and he (wisely) asked if I had removed the chocks. Nope. Mystery solved. I shut down the engine, and Bernie climbed out to remove the offending (and mocking) chocks, and my brake problem was solved.
We took off from Burlington for our home base of Pontiac, Illinois, and we finally saw our first cumulus clouds of the entire flight. Not enough to make a ceiling, but plenty to make life miserably bumpy below, and smooth as silk above. But above meant climbing to 9,500 feet again, and we only had about an hour left in our trip. But it was so bumpy below, we decided to climb anyway, and had a smooth flight until the inevitable descent into the airport area. The Kansas winds seemed to have followed us, and the winds were gusting above 25 knots, 40 degrees off the runway. Who wants an easy arrival anyway? The landing was actually pretty tame (or I’m getting good at this windy crosswind stuff), and we made it home! We put our baby to bed in our new hangar, and planned to give it a good scrubbing down very soon. Amazingly, we never added any oil our entire trip. It seemed to settle in at 6.5 to 7 quarts, and never lost its new oil luster.
The plane performed flawlessly the entire trip, with a few minor exceptions. Both communication radios worked great for receiving, but Com2 gave us some trouble transmitting. We need to have it checked out (John warned us the radios occasionally gave him trouble). Near Burlington during all the bumpy air, we could hear some type of whistling noise behind us, but the noise went away when the air smoothed out. We were a little concerned some critical airplane part was loose (like the tail), but everything seemed very securely attached. I imagine it was just some type of wind noise.
Bernie and I are very happy with our little airplane, and we hope to enjoy more adventures soon. The weather gods smiled on us during the entire trip, and we gained a lot of (hopefully well founded) confidence in ourselves as pilots. Right now, I can’t think of a better way to spend a week of vacation!
This all started in April 2012. Actually it started much earlier, but for the purposes of this narrative, April is a good place to begin.
In April, we sold our Piper Cherokee 235. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. That plane had 235 horsepower, a constant speed propeller, and great performance. We had just spent a small fortune on a paint job, and the airplane was gorgeous! But all that performance came at a price. This was really more of a cross country airplane than a “let’s go fly because it’s a beautiful day” airplane. It took a lot of avgas to just tool around the pattern, and we weren’t making many trips.
Then came Oshkosh…
I was there, and so was Bernie, my airplane partner. We once again were bitten by the aviation bug (of course), and started to consider Light Sport Aircraft (LSAs). But the ones that most interested us most were north of 120K. Bernie is a little older than me, in great health, but wanted to plan ahead for a time when he may not be able to pass his FAA class 3 physical (physicals aren’t required for LSAs). Those LSAs sure looked like a lot of fun, and Bernie scored a ride in a Van’s RV-12, (less than 120K, but still very expensive). But we wisely realized (actually Jean, Bernie’s wife, wisely reminded us) we were under the influence of the “spell of Oshkosh”, and shouldn’t do anything rash (like take a second mortgage out on my house).
After Oshkosh, Bernie and I continued to talk from time to time, and planned to attend (via a rental plane) an LSA expo in Mt. Vernon, Illinois in September. Unfortunately, the weather was poor on the one day I was able to attend, and since one of our goals was to get some demo rides, we decided not to drive either (4 -5 hour trip one way in a car).
Bernie and I still talked on the phone from time to time, checked the “for sale” websites for completed LSAs, but never took it beyond that. In the mean time, Bernie rented and flew the Piper Warrior (PA28-161) he had learned in at the Pontiac, Illinois airport, and loved it! I also have a fondness for that model, and the majority of my meager hours are in the PA28-161. It seemed the Warrior was the perfect compromise airplane, given the type of flying that we would actually be logging. The modest fuel flow of 7-8 gallons per hour was a BIG improvement over the 235, and you could take this airplane for a spur of the moment sightseeing flight without feeling guilty about how much fuel you need to buy. Plus they are available at a price much cheaper than 100K.
I’ve been reading the PilotsofAmerica website for years, but not contributing very often. I’m a low time pilot (approximately 350 hours), and there are many experts (with many opinions) on that site, so what little aviation knowledge I have seems insignificant. But aviation is my favorite hobby. I have bookshelves (plural) packed with aviation related books, and I’m constantly trying to learn new things. One interesting story I had been following on this site was the saga of John Baker in San Diego. I learned he owned what seemed to be a very well maintained Warrior, had many “adventures” in obtaining his certificate, and now “possibly” had to retake his Private oral and flight test due to a problem the FAA had with his examiner. From his writings, it sounded like he was ready to throw in the (aviation) towel.
I talked with Bernie about giving up on the LSA dream, and buying an affordable Warrior. The price delta would certainly pay for plenty of certified maintenance and avgas. And since I knew John’s Warrior was for sale, I proposed we make him an offer. Bernie was at first reluctant to buy an airplane sight unseen in San Diego of all places (we live in central Illinois), but I told him that I’ve followed John’s writings for years, and he seemed like a man who would not misrepresent the condition of the airplane. Plus the big bonus – we would get to fly it back home! We had never flown in the west, and the desert and mountains seemed both exciting and a bit intimidating. But we were up for the adventure!
John and I came to an agreement regarding the price, and Bernie and I made arrangements to fly (commercial) to San Diego within a week. We flew in on an October Saturday, and John’s friend Bob met us Sunday morning at the hotel, and took us to the airport where we finally got to see the plane. It was not misrepresented. It wasn’t a cream puff, but then John never claimed it was. Of course the mechanical condition is the most important thing (unless you want to look great while you’re plunging into the desert), and from the maintenance records, this plane was in top shape.
Bernie and I had a short demo flight with John’s friend Bob (a CFI), then we consummated the deal with John. By then it was early Sunday afternoon, so I didn’t know how far we would get, but John explained there was weather coming in the next day and we should “skedaddle” (I think that those were his exact words). Bernie and I packed the plane to the maximum legal gross weight (of course), and got out of there.
Bob and John had given us some great advice on how to leave the immediate San Diego area (avoiding the many airspace restrictions), but from there we were on our own. I had poured over the charts many times, and it appeared if we could get high enough soon enough, the “foothills” (they looked like mountains to a flatlander like me) just east of San Diego shouldn’t be a problem. But a Warrior at legal gross weight isn’t exactly a great climber.
We headed east over the foothills, and it became obvious very soon we didn’t have the performance for a direct route. We had terrain information available on both Garmin GPSs (Area 510 and 796 – current data), and my iPad (a paid for Foreflight subscription, but I also had the trial version of WingX and Pilot installed), and it showed plenty of red – dead ahead. So we had a choice. Either fly in circles or some type of racetrack pattern to gain some altitude, or don’t try to fly the direct route. This may be obvious to western pilots, but I decided to cross a lower foothill north of our route first. No problem and we had at least 2000 feet to spare. But the mountain (they sure seemed like mountains to me) directly in our path now was much higher, so we turned southwest, and found a lower mountain we could clear. Then finally, after passing over that one by at least 2000 feet, we could head for the Salton Sea, and we were past the tall stuff. I’m sure this all seems tame to most pilots, but it was very exciting for us. I’ve read far too many “box canyon” stories!
From there we made a beeline for Needles, California, which would end up being our final destination of the day. We flew over the valley near the Salton Sea, but I had originally wanted to land in Indio just because it was below sea level and that seemed like a fun thing to write in my logbook. In the end, we decided to press on, since the altitude we had gained was so precious, and I didn’t want have to buy it back again.
After the valley, we saw a lot of – desolate unpopulated desert. But occasionally, and we noticed this along the entire trip, there was a house in the middle of nowhere. I would love to talk to those folks and find out what attraction there is in living in such conditions. I certainly don’t understand the rationale, but it obviously takes all kinds of people to make up this world. And that’s a good thing, since otherwise life would be very boring.
I had thought flying over the desert would be disconcerting, so we had brought along some basic survival gear. Maybe too much, given the extra weight. We had a collapsible shovel, a whistle, a signaling mirror, 18 bottles of water John provided, hats, extra clothing, etc. For most of our journey, there were only a few times where I had to worry about safely being able to put the plane down due to the rugged terrain, but once we landed we would obviously be on our own.
One great new safety gadget we had onboard was a “Spot” personal tracking device. The unit itself was $100, but it cost another $100 to activate and set up who gets notified if we push the S.O.S. or help button and an additional $50 to allow friends and family to follow our trip on a website (it updated our progress every 10 minutes). This turned out to be a great investment. It was like a TV show for wives, parents, siblings, and friends, and when we called home at the end of the day, they already knew exactly where we were (and where we parked the plane – for crying out loud). We threw this little device up on the dash each day, and created live entertainment for our families!
We finally made it to Needles about 2 hours after leaving San Diego, landed, and found – nobody. The place was deserted – and hot! There was a credit card activated fuel pump, and a small and (thankfully) air-conditioned building nearby, but otherwise not a soul. We noticed a few cars parked near an abandoned building, but who knows how long they had been there. In the air-conditioned building, there were a few business cards with the phone numbers of several local hotels. By local, I mean 7 miles away, since for some reason that’s how far the airport is from the town.
I started calling the phone numbers hoping we could get a ride, while Bernie refueled the plane. On the third try, I found that the Motel 6 manager was willing to drive out to pick us up herself. Very good news! She showed up about 30 minutes later, and we were treated to a somewhat wild ride in her little Corolla (lots of rocks went flying on every corner). It turned out the motel was located next to a Denny’s, so we checked in, and had an excellent chicken fried steak and shakes at the restaurant. Then we went back to the room, where I promptly fell asleep. I had been up most of the previous night in San Diego doing some last minute preparation work, so after the exciting flight that afternoon, I was beat. Bernie left the room and thoroughly enjoyed the desert evening. Needles is an interesting place. Incredibly hot during the day, but the evenings were great!
Monday morning we called Flight Services, and planned our trip. Another day of perfect weather, which I guess should be expected in the desert. The motel manager drove us back to airport, and we took off. There were some mountains near the beginning of our route, so we circled Needles a few times to gain altitude. Finally we were high enough to follow I-40 east through the mountain passes.
I-40 had been suggested (thank you Dr. Bruce from PilotsofAmeria) as a great way to make it across the desert, and it was. That long ribbon of civilization gave us comfort (and a convenient emergency landing spot) along the way.
Part of our plan that day was to see the Grand Canyon from the air. Therefore, we soon had to leave our little I-40 safety net and headed northeast. I had read up a little on the flight restrictions in that area, and all I wanted to do that day was follow the canyon from west to east near the airspace border in order to get close enough for a good view from the south. We ended up above the Grand Canyon airport, and flirted with (but never crossed) the airspace boundaries. The view was spectacular, but we were a little disappointed. We weren’t high enough or close enough for a good view of the bottom of the canyon, and we never saw the Colorado River. But Bernie did get some great pictures or the canyon walls!
After the Grand Canyon tour, we headed back to I-40 and Winslow, Arizona for a refueling and rest stop. The FBO there was inhabited, and very nice. We elected to use full service this time, and have them fuel the airplane for us. I instructed the nice young man to fill the tanks about two inches above the tabs, since we didn’t want to be very heavy taking off at this high altitude airport (the density altitude was above 6000’ that day). But the lineman filled it all the way to bottom of the filler neck. Oh well. At least they have long runways in Winslow. We taxied the plane, and I mistook a runway for a taxiway. There was absolutely no traffic, and very little wind, so I told Bernie we might as well just take off since we’re on the runway anyway. After a long take off run, we’re off, but climbing at an anemic rate of 200-300 fpm (feet per minute). Bernie noticed what appeared to be some sort of shanty town just off the end of the runway. Cars and junk were discarded everywhere. I guess that’s what happens when land really has no value.
We started a slow climb, and mostly followed I-40 towards Albuquerque, New Mexico. We passed over Gallup, and realized that the triangular restricted airspace depicted on our charts just south of Gallup appeared to be a government missile base. We stayed well clear.
The scenery out the window was so different from what we’re used to. We mainly have corn fields and bean fields in Central Illinois, but the landscape of New Mexico was so beautiful and different. I’ve driven this route a few times, and I flown over it (in airliners) more times, but the best way to really appreciate the view is at about 2000 ft AGL (above ground level) in a small airplane. We looked at each other and laughed. Bernie mentioned we would never be satisfied flying over a boring corn field again!
And the ride certainly wasn’t boring either. The thermals over the desert were “interesting”. Bernie and I took turns flying the airplane on the proper heading and altitude, but holding a precise altitude turned out to be elusive. We would be droning along at 9500 feet, when all of a sudden we were going 20 knots faster in a 1000 fpm updraft. Wheeeeeee! Bernie wasn’t quite as thrilled about this as I was. Of course what the updraft giveth, a downdraft would soon taketh away. Lots of fun!
Finally, as we got nearer to Albuquerque, I called approach control on the radio, and they assigned me a squawk code. For some silly reason, they had to repeat the same code to us twice. They obviously couldn’t identify us on their radar. Oops. “Somebody” (me) forgot to turn the transponder back to “alt” back in Winslow. It may have had something to do with not following a checklist during our abbreviated departure once we discovered we were on a runway. Lesson learned.
I quickly corrected the situation, and they instructed us to please climb to 11,500 feet or higher. I thought we were good at 9,500 feet, and told approach we may not be able to climb that high, but we would give it a shot. Amazingly, the airplane kept on climbing to about 12,500 ft, which gave us a comfortable margin above the 9000 foot mountains just past Albuquerque. I had originally thought we would have to follow I-40 through the mountain passes, or go around the mountains on either side of the city. There was a TFR (temporary flight restriction) to the north for a hot air balloon festival, so the altitude we gained made it easy to go straight across Albuquerque on a 90 degree heading. Once we cleared those mountains, we had hoped to land in Las Vegas, NM, but the winds were howling there. Plan B was to continue to Dalhart, Texas, and that is where we ended up for the night.
Dalhart is in northern Texas, and the winds were howling there too, but the landing was uneventful, and the FBO (also inhabited) let us use a courtesy car (actually a Dodge pickup) for transportation to the motel, and restaurant.
We found a decent motel, and decided that since we were in Texas cattle country, we should have a steak dinner. Bernie’s steak was great, mine was just ok, and then we went back to the motel to call it a night.
It was a relief that night to know that we had successfully crossed “the sandbox” (as John Baker likes to call it), and for now on the only thing we could run into was weather. In fact I was a little giddy, and reminisced over the adventure we had that day. I never thought I would have the opportunity to ever do this type of flying. We were really having fun!
We could actually make it back home the next day, but our goal wasn’t to make it there in the minimum amount of time. Our goal was to have some fun! So we decided our next stop would be somewhere in Kansas. I looked at our route, and Dodge City was right there. Who doesn’t want to go to Dodge City, just so they can say afterwards that they “got out of Dodge”? Then I also noticed Hutchinson was along our route. A neighbor of mine was from that area, and had mentioned they had a great air and space museum. Sounds good to me. So we had a plan.
We called Flight Services Tuesday morning (perfect weather again), and headed for the airport. Unfortunately the key they gave us wouldn’t unlock the doors on the courtesy “pickup”, so Bernie had hidden his camera and video camera behind the front seats. Oops. He forgot he had left them there, but didn’t realize it until we were in Dodge City. That’s when he also realized he didn’t have his cell phone with him anymore. Double oops. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself.
We took off for Kansas from Dalhart, and noticed the terrain was gradually getting lower and lower. The winds at Dodge City were strong, but not too far off the nose. But there were actually tumbleweeds rolling across the runway. How appropriate is that for Dodge City?
We refueled, and the FBO let us borrow a tired old purple Plymouth Breeze for us to go to town, look around, and get some lunch. That’s when Bernie realized he didn’t have his camera, video camera, or cell phone. We had dinner at an old train depot (recommended), and called the Dalhart FBO. Yes, they found his cameras in the truck, and will send those items UPS to his home address, but still no cell phone. Oh well.
We drove back to the airport, preflighted the plane, and started to taxi to the runway (the winds in Kansas are incredible!). Then we heard a call on Unicom for the plane departing the airport (us). It seems the missing cell phone was on the ramp near where we parked the plane. Yeah! We taxied back, and they handed the phone to Bernie. Everything is coming up roses now! We went back to the runway, took off for Hutchinson, and got out of Dodge!
In Hutchinson the winds were also strong, and shifting. The ATIS indicated runway 35 as the preferred runway, but the tower cleared us to land on runway 4 since the winds had changed. We were on a 1 mile (or less) final, when the tower mentioned the winds had shifted again (gusts above 32 knots), and asked if we wanted to change back to 35. Sure! We did a quick dance over to the other runway, and landed in those gusty winds.
The FBO in Hutchinson was by far the fanciest we had visited so far. It turned out they are also a Cirrus dealer, but they treated us wonderfully. They had some tourist information about the Cosmosphere (the air and space museum), but also there was some material about an underground salt mine not far from the airport. It was too late to take in the museum that afternoon, but we were good to go for the mine. They wouldn’t let keep a courtesy car overnight, but they did have a new Fiat for rent. Sure. Those things are slightly bigger than a smart car, but we managed to cram most of the luggage in what you might call a trunk and the rest in the back seat. We then headed for the salt mine (where Bernie said his teachers had always told him he would end up).
The mine was great! We took an elevator 600 feet down (in the dark), and learned a lot about mining salt. Amazing stuff. The section of the mine we were in was active from the 20’s to the 50’s. Salt mines have the perfect environment to store stuff for the very long term, so besides pristine looking 1950’s trash (no effort is ever made to remove trash from a mine – go figure), different movie studios (and I’m sure other companies) used this mine to store old films and movie props. We had a private underground train ride (we were the last 2 customers of the day), then later a private underground tram ride, since the guide needed to close down the ride and asked us if we wanted to come along. Sure!
The elevator ride back up was crowded, and there were several little kids on board. Once again, it was pitch black (the way “real miners” do it), and one of the kids complained that somebody bumped him. I said he should prove it. Another voice asked if he saw who did it (remember it was dark), and everybody laughed. It’s always nice to make a human connection with strangers.
We drove our Fiat to the motel (luckily my Garmin Aera 510 doubles as an automotive GPS), then went to Freddy’s Hamburgers for dinner. Let me tell you, Freddy really knows how to make a hamburger!
Then we went back to the motel, and made plans for the next day. It seemed like weather would be a factor if we delayed our trip home any longer, so we decided to complete the remaining 460 nautical miles the next afternoon. But we planned to visit the museum in the morning.
Wednesday morning we traveled to the museum, and it seemed like this place was custom built to have all the cool stuff that I love. There were rockets, and airplanes (including the SR-71), and space capsules (including THE Apollo 13, and the Mercury capsule Liberty Bell, which laid on the ocean floor for many years). Plus there was a large collection of Soviet era space stuff. I highly recommend this museum for anyone remotely in the vicinity!
We drove back to the airport at around 11:30 AM, and preflighted our airplane. Flight Services promised lots of tailwind help the higher we went, but some mild turbulence at our destination. So we took off, and started climbing. Our groundspeed kept climbing, until we were going about 138 knots at 9,500 feet of altitude. But then I got greedy. Would it be better at 11,500 feet? So we slowly climbed up to that lofty altitude, and the answer turned out to be “NO”. In fact we slowed down a little. I saw no reason to continue that high, so back down we came.
By that time Kansas City was on the horizon. We could legally fly right over the top of class “B” airspace, but I had never done that before, and I didn’t know how popular that would make us with the Kansas City ATC. So we decided to go slightly south of their airspace, then head northeast as soon as we were past it. We got some great pictures of the K.C. skyline, and then headed for a refueling stop in Burlington, Iowa (my original home state).
Bernie had been to Burlington before for his private check ride, and I had been there during my IFR long cross country, so it wasn’t a totally new experience for us. We landed (again with the strong gusty winds), refueled the plane at the self-serve pumps, and headed to the FBO for a bio-break.
Well at least I thought it was the FBO. It turns out this class “E” airport has scheduled airline service, with the TSA and everything, and we walked in to the waiting area for the passengers. The automatic doors only worked one way, so we appeared to be stuck. Bernie spotted the door to the FBO portion of the building, and we asked the folks there how to get back out to the ramp. They told us the code to the gate, and we headed back to the plane. We piled in, started the plane, and let the brakes off to roll to the runway. But…we weren’t going anywhere. I told Bernie the brakes must be stuck, and he (wisely) asked if I had removed the chocks. Nope. Mystery solved. I shut down the engine, and Bernie climbed out to remove the offending (and mocking) chocks, and my brake problem was solved.
We took off from Burlington for our home base of Pontiac, Illinois, and we finally saw our first cumulus clouds of the entire flight. Not enough to make a ceiling, but plenty to make life miserably bumpy below, and smooth as silk above. But above meant climbing to 9,500 feet again, and we only had about an hour left in our trip. But it was so bumpy below, we decided to climb anyway, and had a smooth flight until the inevitable descent into the airport area. The Kansas winds seemed to have followed us, and the winds were gusting above 25 knots, 40 degrees off the runway. Who wants an easy arrival anyway? The landing was actually pretty tame (or I’m getting good at this windy crosswind stuff), and we made it home! We put our baby to bed in our new hangar, and planned to give it a good scrubbing down very soon. Amazingly, we never added any oil our entire trip. It seemed to settle in at 6.5 to 7 quarts, and never lost its new oil luster.
The plane performed flawlessly the entire trip, with a few minor exceptions. Both communication radios worked great for receiving, but Com2 gave us some trouble transmitting. We need to have it checked out (John warned us the radios occasionally gave him trouble). Near Burlington during all the bumpy air, we could hear some type of whistling noise behind us, but the noise went away when the air smoothed out. We were a little concerned some critical airplane part was loose (like the tail), but everything seemed very securely attached. I imagine it was just some type of wind noise.
Bernie and I are very happy with our little airplane, and we hope to enjoy more adventures soon. The weather gods smiled on us during the entire trip, and we gained a lot of (hopefully well founded) confidence in ourselves as pilots. Right now, I can’t think of a better way to spend a week of vacation!
