My favorite flight (A 6Y9 story)

flyingcheesehead

flyingcheesehead

Touchdown! Greaser!
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iMooniac
AOPA's new "let's go flying" site has a blog entry which asks this morning, "What was your favorite flight?" I have several flights that I could call my favorite - One of which I talked about on The Pilot's Flight PodLog episode 1 with Will Hawkins, another of which was a day on my "Grand Adventure" and will be on the next episode of the Pilotcast that we record (not the next one in the feed, but the one after) - But here's what I posted to the AOPA blog:

I have a few flights that could qualify as my "favorite" but I'll just pick one that I don't think I've talked about in other media.

I was at the recently-reopened Prickett-Grooms airport (6Y9) in the tiny town of Sidnaw in Michigan's upper peninsula, in fact celebrating the reopening of the airport thanks to its purchase by the Frederick family. We'd had a day of picnicing, giving airplane rides to the locals, and four-wheeling in the woods. We had just pulled the ATV's up in front of the local bar & grill to get some burgers for dinner.

Seeing the sun about to touch the horizon, I said (only half jokingly) "Hey, if we go right now we could get one more quick flight in before it's dark." (6Y9 is an unlit grass strip.) Four pairs of aviators' eyes turned towards the setting sun, silently considering the possibility before Ed Frederick said "Let's go" and gunned his ATV's engine, heading back towards the airport a scant block away (like I said, this is a tiny town).

We had been flying a short time earlier so the planes were mostly preflighted - Just a quick check of gas and oil. We'd thought about calling FSS but there wasn't a cloud in the sky, we were pretty sure the president wasn't going to be visiting the deer and bears, and even if we wanted to there weren't any working phones to be found. So, less than five minutes after I made the suggestion, there were three airplanes clawing their way off the small patch of grass into a clear blue sky above a vast, seemingly endless evergreen forest dotted with the occasional lake, all cast in the golden glow of the setting sun.

The beauty of the flight was that it wasn't about going anywhere, or giving anyone rides. It wasn't about looking at scenery or accomplishing any sort of mission at all. There was no worrying about weather, TFR's, or the FAA (though we obeyed the FAR's anyway), or the hustle and bustle of the rest of the world at their Starbucks and Wal-Marts, the closest of which were hundreds of miles away. It was just the pure, simple, satisfaction of the desire of a few pilots to break free of the surly bonds of earth and poke holes in the sky.

20 minutes or so later, having cleansed our souls by watching a fiery sunset from our single-engine four-seat perches in the sky, three airplanes full of grinning pilots touched back down on the turf. We put the planes to bed and headed back to the bar&grill to satisfy less-important basic needs.

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OK folks, let's hear it - What was YOUR favorite flight?
 
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My 1st solo flight after a 15 yr hiatus. Similarly, about .4 on the hobbs, landed right as the sun dipped below the horizon.
 
Despite only having a total of about 16 months of flying time and 230 or so hours total (low compared to most of y'all), I've had a number of flights that have been great experiences that would qualify. There's still one flight very early on that is undoubtedly my favorite, though.

I was just past my first solo, and my instructor and I were supposed to fly on a quick trip down to Lancaster, PA, for a cross country and to check out the pilot shop there. That trip did not happen. My instructor called me up to cancel it, discussion as follows:

Instructor: "Hey Ted, we're going to have to cancel that cross country to Lancaster tomorrow."
Me (disappointed): "Alright, well maybe next weekend."
Instructor: "But........ how'd you like to fly an Aztec with me to Maine and back instead?"
Me (overjoyed): "OK!"

The owner wanted to get dropped off at Frenchville, Maine, and needed his plane brought home. It was one of those perfect weather days that you hear mythical tales of but never seem to see. The kind where there's not a single cloud in the sky for your 517 nm (one way) trip. On the way out there, I sat in back, taking in as much information as I could about the plane and about flying. I followed along on the sectional and looked at the beautiful scenery, as we flew over rural parts of Pennsylvania, New York Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine.

We landed just as the sun was setting, and after refueling turned around to head back home. This day was my first flight in a twin. Furthermore, it was my first night flight.

The flight home was just as beautiful as the flight out, but without that pesky sun. There was no moon, and from the cabin I looked out the window, gazing at the stars which I was now among. I saw the strobes from a few other planes - other travelers on journeys of their own through the night sky. It was traveling through a beautiful, calm ocean. We only passed a few towns on our route of flight, so there was little distraction from the beauty of the night sky. Furthermore, to me there is something just plain cool about having your engines flanking you on either side to propel you through the sky. I had believed this before, but it was then solidified in my mind. Yes, that's part of why I'm obsessed with twins.

There's some quote on the main PoA page about the beauty of night flight. On this flight, I learned that, without a doubt, the greatest beauty and romance of flight is in flying at night, where you are left to watch the beauty of the sky.

Today, that same Aztec belongs to me. Time for more of those flights. I still look back on that night fondly, and want more like it.
 
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