Jay Honeck
Touchdown! Greaser!
Dunno if you boys and girls have heard of this annual fly in, held at the Flying M Ranch each year, but it's got a reputation for being the baddest-ass fly in on the planet, in a state full of bigger than life, bad-ass people.
And I mean that in a good way.
Well, we attended today. Hoe-Lee-Chit, what an amazingly wonderful cluster-**** of insanity, sort of a cross between a Hell's Angel Rally, your mother's bridge club, and Burning Man.
Oh, but with airplanes. 500+ airplanes. On a 4000' grass strip, in the middle of nowhere, with few rules.
In one day, hell, one hour, I saw more close calls and aviation insanity than in my previous two decades of flying. We spent the day vacillating between wonder, awe, shock, and fear. It was cool, and terrifying.
ADS-B traffic was a godsend and a curse today. On the one hand, it may have saved our lives. On the other hand, it scared me so much, I nearly flew home. My screen looked like it was covered with ants, all of them within 5 miles of this strip, all seemingly going in random directions -- including straight up.
Still, I pressed on. Winds were perfectly favoring RWY 20, for which I was set up from the moment we launched from the coast. Strangely, as we flew into radio range, everyone was landing on RWY 02 -- the reciprocal runway. A direct (if light) tailwind.
When I was five miles out, maneuvering to join the "pattern" to land, someone came on the radio and announced that the field was closed for the next five minutes. Everyone had to go somewhere, so we went to nearby Cherokee County, with gas for just $4.48 a gallon! Sweet! (Never thought I would think $4+/gallon was cheap, but here we are...)
As I was gassing up, the FBO guy showed me a cellphone picture he had just received of a Thorp T-18 that had gone off the end of the Reklaw runway, into a pond. Yup, landing downwind, he soared right into the drink, and they were pulling the remains of the plane back down the runway, forcing the runway closure. Ouch.
So, after fueling, we launch for the 10 mile flight back into the maelstrom. Amazingly, I enter a downwind for a completely invisible runway, based solely on my GPS. The strip is surrounded by 100' tall pine trees, making it utterly invisible from the sides.
I pressed on, slicing through base to final, and roll out on a nice stabilized approach. A guy calls out "Do I have enough time to get out?" -- to which I stupidly say "Sure, go ahead!"
And he sits there. And he doesn't move. Finally, he begins to roll, agonizingly slowly, but now I'm on short final -- too late. I announce I'm going around.
I rejoin the pattern with planes whizzing around from seemingly everywhere. Apparently it's normal for everyone to do high speed low approaches, sometimes in formation, from every possible entry point. I come perilously close to colliding with a Cessna, and break off my downwind leg.
I then fly five miles out to catch my breath, and reassess. I'm on a RIGHT base, sort of, but see my opening and go for it. Screw the pattern -- I'm landing during this little lull! I turn to final, flare to land...and the ground falls away from me as fast as I'm sinking. WTF?
Then, just as quickly, all of the sudden it's coming UP at me! Bang! That was landing #1.
I'm airborne again, but stick with it, and the ground does the whole down/up thing again. Bang! That was landing #2.
Now I'm airborne again, slow, running out of airspeed, elevator authority, and ideas. Bang! This is the biggest ski-jump of them all, but I stick with it, keep the stick in my gut, and keep most of the impact on the mains.
I then make a fairly normal landing, with nothing but silence from the back seat. We have...arrived.
I roll to the end, find a spot on the side of the runway, and shut down in the shade of the trees. It's so lovely, peaceful and quiet...
Then, two Skyhawks (!), ten feet apart and 20' off the deck, fly 30' away from us at 120 knots, pull up at a 60 degree angle, and disappear.
Welcome to Reklaw! lol
We walk 4000' back to where all the food tents are, and I am amazed at what I just landed on. This is a steep HILL we are climbing, with swales and round-bottom ditches in it! Sure, the grass is cut nice and short, but it is anything but level. Anyone who says the nosegear on an RV is anything but tough has never seen my landing at Reklaw. It took a good beating!
As we walked, a 182 landed, stopped and turned hard left -- right into the path of a Cherokee departing. The Archer cleared the Skylane's tail by 30 feet, just 50' away from us. Insane.
The rest of the day was like any other fly in. Good people, food, lots of fun -- and nonstop low approaches. Everything from a Howard DGA to a Stearman, to a flight of Yaks, to RVs with smoke on, all screaming down the active runway below the trees, while planes are taxiing, departing and arriving. It was NUTS. And cool!
Amazingly it all worked. Well, except for the T-18 driver, who couldn't handle the tailwind, down hill landing. I watched as he (and helpers) forlornly pulled the wings off, water pouring out of the spinner, with the interior removed and drying in the sun. Looking where he had gone off the end, it could have been much, much worse.
Still, it was great fun. Seemingly everyone knew us (or at least the plane!), and they gave us a great farewell on the Unicom frequency. Mindful of Mary seated directly behind me, I declined to do the requisite low pass on departure. lol
Oh, and as I was leaving, I had to abort my takeoff, when three old guys decided to walk right across the runway as I was on the roll! Never looked, didn't care. Crazy!
On the flight home, I laughed and told Mary we should go back tomorrow. She said, and I quote: "NO ****ING WAY!"
And I mean that in a good way.
Well, we attended today. Hoe-Lee-Chit, what an amazingly wonderful cluster-**** of insanity, sort of a cross between a Hell's Angel Rally, your mother's bridge club, and Burning Man.
Oh, but with airplanes. 500+ airplanes. On a 4000' grass strip, in the middle of nowhere, with few rules.
In one day, hell, one hour, I saw more close calls and aviation insanity than in my previous two decades of flying. We spent the day vacillating between wonder, awe, shock, and fear. It was cool, and terrifying.
ADS-B traffic was a godsend and a curse today. On the one hand, it may have saved our lives. On the other hand, it scared me so much, I nearly flew home. My screen looked like it was covered with ants, all of them within 5 miles of this strip, all seemingly going in random directions -- including straight up.
Still, I pressed on. Winds were perfectly favoring RWY 20, for which I was set up from the moment we launched from the coast. Strangely, as we flew into radio range, everyone was landing on RWY 02 -- the reciprocal runway. A direct (if light) tailwind.
When I was five miles out, maneuvering to join the "pattern" to land, someone came on the radio and announced that the field was closed for the next five minutes. Everyone had to go somewhere, so we went to nearby Cherokee County, with gas for just $4.48 a gallon! Sweet! (Never thought I would think $4+/gallon was cheap, but here we are...)
As I was gassing up, the FBO guy showed me a cellphone picture he had just received of a Thorp T-18 that had gone off the end of the Reklaw runway, into a pond. Yup, landing downwind, he soared right into the drink, and they were pulling the remains of the plane back down the runway, forcing the runway closure. Ouch.
So, after fueling, we launch for the 10 mile flight back into the maelstrom. Amazingly, I enter a downwind for a completely invisible runway, based solely on my GPS. The strip is surrounded by 100' tall pine trees, making it utterly invisible from the sides.
I pressed on, slicing through base to final, and roll out on a nice stabilized approach. A guy calls out "Do I have enough time to get out?" -- to which I stupidly say "Sure, go ahead!"
And he sits there. And he doesn't move. Finally, he begins to roll, agonizingly slowly, but now I'm on short final -- too late. I announce I'm going around.
I rejoin the pattern with planes whizzing around from seemingly everywhere. Apparently it's normal for everyone to do high speed low approaches, sometimes in formation, from every possible entry point. I come perilously close to colliding with a Cessna, and break off my downwind leg.
I then fly five miles out to catch my breath, and reassess. I'm on a RIGHT base, sort of, but see my opening and go for it. Screw the pattern -- I'm landing during this little lull! I turn to final, flare to land...and the ground falls away from me as fast as I'm sinking. WTF?
Then, just as quickly, all of the sudden it's coming UP at me! Bang! That was landing #1.
I'm airborne again, but stick with it, and the ground does the whole down/up thing again. Bang! That was landing #2.
Now I'm airborne again, slow, running out of airspeed, elevator authority, and ideas. Bang! This is the biggest ski-jump of them all, but I stick with it, keep the stick in my gut, and keep most of the impact on the mains.
I then make a fairly normal landing, with nothing but silence from the back seat. We have...arrived.
I roll to the end, find a spot on the side of the runway, and shut down in the shade of the trees. It's so lovely, peaceful and quiet...
Then, two Skyhawks (!), ten feet apart and 20' off the deck, fly 30' away from us at 120 knots, pull up at a 60 degree angle, and disappear.
Welcome to Reklaw! lol
We walk 4000' back to where all the food tents are, and I am amazed at what I just landed on. This is a steep HILL we are climbing, with swales and round-bottom ditches in it! Sure, the grass is cut nice and short, but it is anything but level. Anyone who says the nosegear on an RV is anything but tough has never seen my landing at Reklaw. It took a good beating!
As we walked, a 182 landed, stopped and turned hard left -- right into the path of a Cherokee departing. The Archer cleared the Skylane's tail by 30 feet, just 50' away from us. Insane.
The rest of the day was like any other fly in. Good people, food, lots of fun -- and nonstop low approaches. Everything from a Howard DGA to a Stearman, to a flight of Yaks, to RVs with smoke on, all screaming down the active runway below the trees, while planes are taxiing, departing and arriving. It was NUTS. And cool!
Amazingly it all worked. Well, except for the T-18 driver, who couldn't handle the tailwind, down hill landing. I watched as he (and helpers) forlornly pulled the wings off, water pouring out of the spinner, with the interior removed and drying in the sun. Looking where he had gone off the end, it could have been much, much worse.
Still, it was great fun. Seemingly everyone knew us (or at least the plane!), and they gave us a great farewell on the Unicom frequency. Mindful of Mary seated directly behind me, I declined to do the requisite low pass on departure. lol
Oh, and as I was leaving, I had to abort my takeoff, when three old guys decided to walk right across the runway as I was on the roll! Never looked, didn't care. Crazy!
On the flight home, I laughed and told Mary we should go back tomorrow. She said, and I quote: "NO ****ING WAY!"
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