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Oshkosh Observations

All the cubs that mattered were at New Holstein....

I didn't get a chance to go to KOSH, I was having too much fun at 8D1 40 miles away!

sj
 
I was at OSH Sunday thru Thursday and counted 11 different Super Cubs. Most of them had for sale signs in the window. Dakota Airframe had a PA12 fuselage on display with Dakota Cub PA12 wings with 23 gal PA18 tanks which are approved now. I saw 2 cubs that had the STCd slotted wings. One was round tipped and the other was the new squared off slotted wing. The squared wing one had a 32 gal belly tank and the round tipped one had a Landis cargo pod and floor boards made from .090 diamond plate. Penn Yann 180 hp conversions out numbered Cub Crafter Conversions. Cub Crafters had 2 Super Cubs on display. Looked good but why somebody would paint a Super Cub like a J3 is beyond me. Daytona Cub had there kit cub on display with a XP0360 engine and 31 Bushwheels. I had planned on flying over to 8D1 thur but the t-storms and poor vis changed my mine so I headed west. Still had crappy weather till Austin MN and then it straighted out. 25.4 hours round trip.
 
Kase:

Having been one of the founders of the 8D1 gathering, you screwed up! Sorry, but some folks need to get their priorities straight.
Wish I could have been there.

murph
 
At different times, there were over 35 cubs at 8D1. A veritible plethora of airplane diversity.

Murph, we missed you, and you missed some darn good fun and lie swapping.

sj
 
I missed seein' ya'all Murph.............but as I recall the only founderin' you did was on the grub and beer. :lol:
 
Did I say foundered or floundered? :drinking:

If I had known about the veritible plethora, I would have tried harder to be there.

Did y'all have the short TO and Landing contests? Who won the lying contest?

Sounds like all y'all had fun.

murph
 
Hi Murph - we missed you, but somehow we managed to have a good time anyway. :wink: Evenings around the campfire were terrific, as usual.

In my opinion, Ron Massey's story about his ongoing relationship with the farmhouse folks was tops. Hysterical!

Anne.
 
Murph,

I was going to sugguest that you may be a "loster" rather than a "founder", but then you did make it to AK and back in one piece.

I don't know, Anne, Mark Rusche's tales of the outback had my stomach hurting from laughter. Between him and Wilbur, I was finding it difficult to breathe from all the comedy. I do love that story of Ron's though, it could be a made for TV movie some day...

My favorite line from the fly in: "You better put on some lipstick and start kissing their ass"... Thanks, Wilbur!

sj
 
Not a SC, but Oshkosh related...

This is really sad, this is the absolutely beautiful Hughes Racer replica...

********************************************************************************
** Report created 8/5/2003 Record 1 **
********************************************************************************

IDENTIFICATION
Regis#: 258Y Make/Model: EXP Description: EXP- HUGHES 1 B
Date: 08/05/2003 Time: 0030

Event Type: Accident Highest Injury: Fatal Mid Air: N Missing: N
Damage: Destroyed

LOCATION
City: YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK State: WY Country: US

DESCRIPTION
ACFT CRASHED UNDER UNKNOWN CIRCUMSTANCES, ONE PERSON ON BOARD WAS FATALLY
INJURED, NORTH OF OLD GEYSER IN YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK, WY

INJURY DATA Total Fatal: 1
# Crew: 1 Fat: 1 Ser: 0 Min: 0 Unk:
# Pass: 0 Fat: 0 Ser: 0 Min: 0 Unk:
# Grnd: Fat: 0 Ser: 0 Min: 0 Unk:

WEATHER: SPECI KWYS 042346Z AUTO 16008KT 20SM BKN040 22/09 A3026

OTHER DATA
Activity: Pleasure Phase: Unknown Operation: General Aviation

Departed: GILLETTE, WY Dep Date: 08/05/2003 Dep. Time: 0030
Destination: EUGENE, OR Flt Plan: UNK Wx Briefing: Y
Last Radio Cont: UNK
Last Clearance: UNK

FAA FSDO: CASPER, WY (NM04) Entry date: 08/05/2003
 
I'm working on a report this morning Murph and I'll post it somewhere.
Kase never got over to the SPB so he didn't count the 4 Super Cubs, 1 PA-11 and about 7 or 8 J-3's there. You shoulda' seen the Cub painted in US Flag colors.

I rode over in an amphib 206 rather than take the L-2 later in the week.

By The way - you'll have to see pictures of the Cessna 150 with caterpiller tracks. They're going on Steve Johnston's Cub next (woe and intrigue)

Brad
 
"We didn't bring no f#$%&^ corn!"

Almost fell out of my chair on that one.


"I can't BELIEVE I told the wire story."

It's all got to be true, because you just can't make this stuff up.

You really missed it Kase. Even that pretty slot wing Cub flew off my wing tip for about 100 miles, (much of it below ground level, now that's the way to look at a Cub). I've never had the opertunity to fly so many different Cubs in such a short period of time.

Again, a HUGE thanks to all that came.
 
HA! That is true! I forgot about those and they are equally funny...

I gotta agree that the most fun I had on this trip was getting to fly all these different airplanes:

Paul's New 180HP Top Cub (WOW!)
Mark's PA-12-150 (NICE!)
Arlee's PA-18-135
MD's J3 - 65hp (First Solo in a J3!)
Kenny's Sooped Up J3 - 90hp (nice and FOR SALE!)
Wilbur's C185 (right seat, but got to land it and held on for dear life... YEEEEE HAWWWW!)

THANKS FOLKS!


sj
 
Dig,

I was very impressed with the quality of everything, the power of the 180 was impressive, but remember, I am a 135hp driver so it is a larger contrast than might be seen with the 150. I will say it was smooth as silk, quiet, and very very comfortable. It is the kind of plane you could ride in for hours and hours (especially since it also had a belly pod for gas).

I suspect it is a "heavy" airplane, although I did not ask what the empty weight was, my guess is 1100lbs or more. It seems to overcome that with power, and it handles as nimbly as any cub.

I also felt like it was rigged extremely well, and was effortless to fly. I was comfortable both in the front, and in the back seat and I found the brakes very effective, but not dangerously so for the 31" bushwheels Paul has on the plane. I suspect with little bitty tires, these brakes might be too much (at least for me).

One complaint I had was that you cannot see the airspeed indicator from the back seat. I was giving a few people some dual in it and since it was a new airplane to me, I wanted to occasionlly double check my hunches on how fast we were going. Other than that, and the fact that I can't afford it, I will take one in the same great color scheme Paul chose, but I would probably throw a Garmin 430 in too if it was free....

sj
 
OSH 2003 Observations

You asked for it Murph so don't blame me. :-? Here's the write up I did on my observations of the big show - Brad:

______________________________

OSH 2003

Gary called up Monday morning and asked If I'd like to fly out to Oshkosh for a few days. I jumped at the chance as I'd been planning on taking an L-2M Taylorcraft to the big show but wasn't looking forward to filling the micro fuel tanks at every airport along the route. Racing home I threw a bunch of clothes, cameras and other airshow essentials together, called my pal Jason to see if he could get out of work early, placate his wife then meet us in New Richmond Wisconsin. Can do. OK let's go.

Wheels up out of Brainerd at around 5:00 PM (Hey it's an amphib) and headed southeast. Jason wasn't at the New Richmond airport when we rolled in around 6:00 PM so Gary pulled up to the fuel island and we pumped in some airplane life blood at only $1.95 a gallon. Our passenger finally straggled in claiming unforeseen 25 mph roads. A likely story but we threw his gear in the back and roared off towards OSH hoping to get there before it closed up for the evening. Nope, arriving overhead about 8:25 PM, the place had shut up like a trap (and FULL!). Where to go? Well, we've got floats why not use 'em? So Gary headed for the EAA Seaplane Base, made a nice glassy water (twilight to boot) landing and taxied up to the waiting crowd on the dock about 9:00 PM in the semi-dark.

It couldn't have worked out any better and I must say, the folks at the OSH SPB accept late arrivals with bonhomie and easy accommodation. The kitchen offered to stay open and the kid who hauled our gear to a campsite hung around until we got the tents set, lighting up the scene with his Gator. After this Jeff from Northwood's Aircraft Painting in Park Rapids, MN (who recently painted Gary's 206 and a nice job at that!) put some hamburgers on the grill and we ate well under the stars while talking floatplanes. Jeff brought to the show a Cessna 182 with an IO-550 conversion and mounted on new Aerocet straight floats. A pretty potent package that walks away from a 185.

A word about the campsite, Gary had brought a screen gazebo and 2 man tent. But what with the rapid departure from New Richmond, we didn't throw an extra tent in (the one still in Jason's truck). What to do? Nothing for it but to roll the ol' sleeping bags out on the ground (What air mattress? Are you kidding?) and stare up through the screen mesh at the heavens hoping Polaris and his buddies didn't suddenly disappear behind some froward rain maker. Gary set up his tent next door (with air mattress) and slept like a log. The paths to the lake front and other facilities wound through the trees lit with Tiki torches and one expected at any moment a Luau to break out. A few tents down Capt. John Moore (of airshow fame) pulled out his guitar and sang some ballads (joined by an occasional harmonica) but this remained a close as we got to a Polynesian strumming a Ukulele. The torches themselves acted as an excellent mosquito-be-gone device and along with nightly fogging kept the little vampires at bay.

Waking still dry we cleaned up and headed for the chowline on what became quickly a bluebird day full of promise. I ran into several friends along the way and ate with Steve, Dale and Jeanne. Breakfast took a sharp bite out of the wallet (no wonder they serve you with a smile) but with all the logistics and effort involved I didn?t begrudge them the cost and attacked it in a lean wolfish manner. Afterwards we got our show passes and headed for the main attraction in the shuttle bus. Steve had spent one morning trying to get a ride to the show before the busses ran (so he didn?t miss a forum). He put his thumb out to every passing car but since he was standing at a bus stop everyone thought he merely gave them approval and they?d wave with a big smile going by. He eventually stumped back with a disgusted look.

Arriving at Whitman, the air was alive with ultralights and arriving GA traffic. Where they kept putting them I had no idea for the show appeared fuller than I have ever seen it before with airplanes parked all the way to the corn rows on the south end. Miles upon miles of airplanes. A mind-blowing spectacle. Rather than walk all the way north (knowing the feet had it coming later) we hopped the blessed tram pulled by the obligatory John Deere and rolled past the fields of airplanes in a leisurely manner. The rows went by in a seemingly endless parade. 5 or 6 DC-3?s over there, Staggerwings over here, hey look a Storch and a Sikorsky S-37! What is that British thing? Check out that Turbo Beaver with the Pacific Indian paint scheme. And on and on it went, each line holding a surprise or interesting specimens of a kind. Many foreign accents and tongues filled the air around us (South Africans in front, Scots alongside ? in kilts no less) and you begin to get an idea of what a worldwide draw this event is.

Finally the tram deposited its human dunnage at the Warbirds section and we began to explore on foot. Wandering through a field of AT-6 Texans we examined a Ju-52 and Howard 500 that came motoring up. The Howard at one time THE corporate transport before the Lockheed Jetstar, Sabreliner and Lear came along to end its reign. A bunch of V-tails burbled past while Gary commented on all the L-39?s that pulled out causing the Bonanza drivers some anxiety. I walked past the usual T-33, Sabre, Vampire and acres of T-28?s but I don?t believe I?ve ever seen a Navy FJ-4B Fury before. Basically it?s a mid-fifties navalized Sabre. Walking on past endless T-28?s we finally came to a B-17. Jason ambled up and spun one of the superchargers under the left outboard engine. How often does one get to do that?

Visiting the Liaison birds we came across Howard and his wife shining up their O-1 Bird Dog for the judges (Willy Pete rockets under the wings). This is a sweet airplane and they are now manufactured by Air Repair, Inc. in MS. Also in the gaggle of typical L birds sat an OV-1 Mohawk and an L-6 Interstate powered by a Franklin engine. Great stuff! OK off to the experimentals.

The usual kit manufacturers made their whole hog appearance and I glanced at the RANS, SONEX and CH-701 displays (the 701 is still ugly as ever ? sorry Steve and Pat). Something called a Panther hove into view sporting a 540 Lycoming and the most bizarre flap system I?ve ever seen! Pulleys and cables hanging out in the breeze above the wing. Rube Goldberg had nothing on this airplane?s designer. Another standout was the new RV-10 from Van?s It is slightly reminiscent of the Cirrus and Lancair Columbia but yet distinctly an RV (it?s gotta? be the tail).

Jeff became anxious to escape the experimental world (being a DeHaviland heavy metal driver) so we skipped the fly market and dove into the throng on the midway. Here sat the ORBIS DC-10 (flying eye hospital), a Super Constellation, F-4 Phantom ("Rhino" - right Roy?) from Holloman AFB used for training German air crews (has a German fin flash on the tail), a Tri-Motor Ford (not the one constantly droning overhead) an old Bellenca and a glorious replica of Howard Hughes Record setting H-1 (this thing gleamed in the sun like a particularly brilliant mirror ? sadly, as I write, I just heard it was lost on its way back west over Yellowstone along with its pilot). Taking up most of the room and at center stage loomed the Airbus A300-600T "Beluga" which replaced the fabled "Super Guppy" of the Saturn V era. We joined the many-headed waiting patiently in line to go up and peer into the vast empty space (akin to staring into an empty warehouse ? why did I come up here?) laughed at the twin chain saw engined Cricket parked next to a main gear truck of the Airbus and endured the blood-curdling shrieks of a small child in line who?d decided he?d had enough of waiting to look into the void. One wonders where the amplifier hid on this youngster as he broke free from his unresponsive parent and began running up and down the line at 125 decibels. The deep throbbing bellow had the crowds a bit undecided if this was a human offspring or some machine brought in by Honda (or perhaps Harley-Davidson). Calm was eventually restored, we gazed into nothing for some fitful seconds and then headed off for greener pastures.

After visiting the perpetually unfinished Eclipse 500 booth Jeff found a pal he needed to see and the rest of us went to assess the Sherpa's certification progress (yet another yearly stop). I also looked at the PC-12 then thoroughly examined a Smith Cub (at the Daytona booth) and came away impressed with the workmanship and build quality of this Super Cub clone. To the point that this may be the way to go when I get back into the ownership ranks. It?s a top-notch product and quite a bit stronger than a stock Cub. Next door was another Smith Cub only this one sat on amphib floats and sported a 200+ hp turbine engine!!! WOW!! This will set your typical Cub driver drooling but I must say I?d like to see the bugs worked out of it for a few years before flying one. The possibilities though?. Next to the turbine Cub, a seemingly plain PA-14 Family Cruiser stuck its nose forward. It turned out to be a replica of Nate Saint?s airplane lost along with Nate and 4 other missionaries in the 1950?s as they tried to contact an unreached tribe in the Ecuadorian jungle. The original airplane disappeared in the river (Palm Beach) after the massacre but somebody found a piece of landing gear in the sand a few years ago. Bill Clapp and Steve Saint (Nate?s son) excavated the remains which now grace the lobby of Mission Aviation Fellowship?s HQ in Redlands , CA. The replica is going to be in a movie about the event and even has the original N #. They got the N # after calling the current owners. It was a cold call but the owner had read a book about the event two weeks before and her son had pointed out that the number on Nate?s airplane was the same as theirs. When Steve identified himself she said, ?I know what you want?. This is an amazing story! My connection with it is that Bill Clapp rebuilt a Super Cub I had earlier (having pulled it out of Honduras as a basket case and flew it up on a DC-3) and the replica Saint airplane is one that used to sit at my home airport on floats before being sold for the movie and put into original trim. (Not quite the same though as it mounts a bigger engine, Cleveland wheels and they kept the left hand seaplane door.)

Moving along (Gary having abandoned ship) Jason and I checked out the Dakota PA-12 (he mentally calculating whether his wife would approve of such a project) and then on to the Cub Crafters PA-18 Top Cub where I talked wings and props with Jim Richmond and admired the Harley Cub. I really drool over a 180 Cub and Jim builds very fine examples of this stellar breed. I stopped to gawk at a pre-production SMA SR305 diesel powered Maule with a rather hideous cowl but will admit this is partly our engine future and it wasn?t such a bad package if you can get past the bulldog nose. A twin-engined amphib called an Aerocat was next. It had T-bar control sticks and looked so Jetsonian that I didn't linger. I had some passing interest in the American Champion booth and then started through the vendor pavilions. Jason ended up getting a good deal on a Lowrance 100 GPS (going out of production) for his L-2M and we fought our way through the rest of the human wall to see a few particularly interesting booths. The most intriguing of these promoted a 2 cycle supercharged AND turbocharged lightweight 4 cylinder diesel. It seemed to run very smooth and I think this guy is on to something. Fairly mobbed by folks, he handed out brochures but the bucketload.

Time to meander out to the flightline and set up for the airshow. I?m pretty jaded when it comes to these events (you?ve seen one loop, you?ve seen them all) but this one exceeded all expectations. It started out with Yak 52?s, AT-6 Texans, T-28?s and T-34?s in formations of 20-30+ aircraft trailing smoke at different altitudes. With this many aircraft in the same airspace you get to experience just a slight touch of WW2 with waves of aircraft inbound to their targets on the continent. The fighters take off next and make several low passes, pulling up in a huge arc for another run. There?s something visceral about a Mustang or a Corsair ripping by at speed, especially opposite traffic to the mid-fifties jets departing for their time in the sun. Now the jets whistle down. Ripping by as fast as it can mogate a Vampire/Venom in Swiss markings rockets by and pulls up hard into a cloud drifting over the field at about 5K feet causing it to swirl in a vortex. Then an F-86 Sabre painted in John Glenn?s colors, a navalised Sabre (FJ-4B Fury) next followed by an amazingly quick Fowland Gnat. The Gnat looks like a toy but obviously works for it went by in a red streak just under the speed of sound.

As everybody knows, the traditional bane of any airshow is the announcer who will not quit babbling. Telling you exactly what you are witnessing, ?he goes up, he comes down...he loops the airplane etc etc?? all in a metallic rasp that assumes the assembled masses are not only aged 5 but blind as well (the lame jokes and puns thrown in free of charge). We suffered through some minutes of this that blighted only slightly an unbelievable performance by some guy named Kirby and then some newbies who showed off skills beyond their years. Kirby takes off in about 30 feet and pulls his Extra 300 (or something similar with mega horsepower) into a hover about 20 feet in the air. Unreal! There followed a series of similarly impossible things done with a fixed wing airplane that I can?t describe other than to mention the many slack jaws round about. Sean Tucker also put in his usual unmatched performance. High above as a dot in the sky, a U-2 circled lazily.

Then the announcer (amazingly enough) switched gears and threw out an unusually cogent: ?In the days before airspeed and altitude restrictions, Jet biplanes roamed the land?, all this to sirens and drums. An early 30?s Waco biplane rolls to a stop on the runway. Lifts the tail, takes off in about 10 feet and screams straight up like an F-14B, twirling toward the heavens with a loud jet noise accompanying the Pratt singing in the nose. What?s this!! Some guy has hung a jet engine from either a Citation or a Lear under the belly of the Waco. Rather mind-blowing in itself but then he starts chasing another biplane around (trying to eat it like a some antediluvian creature) and suddenly a Peterbuilt semi tractor with 3 afterburning turbines rolls down the runway to join in the fun. The crowd, which had been sitting on its collective rear end, now leapt to its feet involuntarily as the Peterbuilt shot flame 40 feet behind the tractor and made a pulsing roar that hit one like a fist. Flame also poured out of the stacks while the Waco and friend tried to knock their gear off on the thing as it made its way out of sight. Suddenly it reappeared with all 3 turbines at full roar and racing the Jet Waco. The Waco won the race but only barely having had a head start and the truck now out of runway. The U-2 then came in for a low pass before landing and thundered hard for the upper regions. WHOO-HOO! Now this is an airshow! An true extravaganza of noise, serendipity and brutal power. (As the U-2 put on his training wheels, a buzzy little Cherokee 140 pulled out behind him to take off. I love the mix of aircraft at this event!)

So with a smile still on my mug, Jason and I set out to explore some more activity in the Classics section. Here we came across three L-2 Taylorcrafts and Jason as a new owner of the type examined the others and talked with their owners about parts, flying and general upkeep of the mark. One an early razorback model in orange rescue colors, used by the San Luis Obisbo county sheriff?s dept for a time. A Navy N3N caught my eye (I thought most were on floats?) and then a modified Beaver with an unusual wing and flap arrangement (forward tapered). We finally dragged into the Sea Plane Base bus stop at 7:45 PM but the word there was that it stopped running at 7:30! Now what?! A number of other folks also hung around having believed the 8:00 PM time in the show literature (ha ha). I thought about walking the 6 miles to the Sea Plane Base but Jason said this wasn?t exactly acceptable and looked obstinate about hiking in the dark for hours on end (wisdom). Seeing the plight of the weary gathering, a call went out, the bus and its discontented driver soon prevailed upon to return. Whew!

Another night of listening to voices and staring at the stars through the screen was interrupted not by rain but by Gary?s best friend Fred and friends from Germany who finally tracked him down around 10:30 PM (after he?d been happily snoring away for some time). We woke him up and old home week ensued for some time talking with the jovial deeper shades of black in the night (the flickers of the Tiki torches occasionally lighting up somebody?s glasses.

Up early the next morning (of course) and time to hit the showers plus check the weather for departure. A word about these showers: they must be the only part of the show that is not manned by volunteers. I REALLY appreciate the folks who do this job but you can tell that they?re not squeamish types because they set up their breakfast table and cooking area right between the shower drain, the portable outhouses and the swamp. The honey wagon coming in at regular intervals practically laying its less-than-sanitary jerking hose across the table while emptying the aforementioned facilities. One turns a slight shade of green witnessing this spectacle.

After breakfast we met up with Fred and crew to cruise the harbor and examine the buoyed seaplanes. (Our pontoon captain and Jason got yaking after letting out that he had instructed in L-2's during the war.) We burbled past a line-up of seven to eight J-3 Cubs, a PA-11, CH-701, four Super Cubs, a couple Scouts on amphibs plus various & sundry flocks of Stinsons and Cessnas. I noticed a Kitfox on Baumanns (nice looking package) and a late 30?s Cessna Airmaster on new Wipline amphibs. Several SeaReys, a Laker, Volmer Kingfisher, Caravan and Capt Moore?s exquisite Piaggio Royal Gull rounding out the notables. An EC-135 chopper came zooming in and disgorged its crew of paramedics who then paraded around with pens and medical paraphernalia falling out of every pocket. Skillfully avoiding the Coast Guard patrol, we docked and ambled over to check out the Russian Be-103 that showed up on shore. This twin Continental engined (on fuselage pods) semi delta winged amphibian appeared really built stout! Very military (indeed this is its real heritage) in quality and every cockpit switch looked like it threw a 400 amp power source. It had 6 seats but in actuality a strong 4 seater cruising at 250 kph. The control stick had a fighter-like quality as did the heavy duty rudder pedals. A beautiful young Russian woman gave us the specs in a slightly accented Slavic lilt and we nodded sagely as she explained about the titanium wing structure. A display off to the side had hovercraft that could be fitted with wings. Powered with Subaru engines, they flew about 5-15 feet over the surface at 50 mph. A rather cool piece of machinery!

While waiting for a rain squall to pass through, Jason and I sat on the shore and watched aircraft come and go from the cut. It?s always fun to critique landings and not everyday you can watch Mustangs, Warthogs, experimentals, Tri-Motors and seaplanes all in the same airspace. This while learning the history of Lake Winnebago (only 26 feet deep?! No wonder it stacks up so steep when the wind blows), its finny denizens and Mercury marine testing snafus. The New Zealanders and government guy from DC (both of whom I know I?ve seen somewhere before) next to me taking it all in. I asked the government guy if he was here to help (ha ha ? he laughed actually).

The rain finally stopped and the sun soon remerged as we motored out to the 206 and loaded up for home. The boat hauled us ignominiously through the cut into the outer bay (everybody else got to start up in the harbor) and Gary cranked up the IO-520. We taxied out around the point while setting up the GPS then hit the power and headed up the lake under a large formation of warbirds to cut west just south of Appleton's airspace. We then listened in to Fisk approach where the best controllers in the world keep up a constant verbal stream trying to coordinate the arriving legions of inbound aircraft. The female controller working the frequency kept up a rapid fire competent: ??OK beautiful rock there experimental?yellow biplane I?ve got a fast mover blowing right over the top of you to the head of the line, just ignore him?everybody?s doing good?black and white Cessna I need you to keep in line?black and white Cessna rock your wings if you hear me?black and white Cessna are you on the frequency?? (consternation growing amongst everybody listening)?(the controller now in her best come-hither voice)?black and white Cessna ?Honey?Sugar?Baby?talk to me?(no response) (The controller now in a woman scorned voice) ?OK, I dated you once?(infinite mirth in cockpits everywhere)?.

Now the long drone home underneath towering cumulus. We stopped for fuel in Eau Claire (a Yak-52 ahead of us came straight in with a fuel transfer problem...?are you declaring an emergency??NO!??) and had one of the best hamburgers ever served at the restaurant in the terminal. The cook said he got special beef from the Chippewa valley. I believe it! Later, without shutting down, we unceremoniously dumped Jason out at New Richmond and immediately climbed out for Brainerd. I flew at 4,500 feet underneath the white ramparts of the rapidly building clouds. Set against a dark blue sky it was quite beautiful and the green state slowly rolled by with Gary in the left seat contentedly snoring away. Approaching home we punched through an airplane wash (softens the bugs) and plopped down just before a blackish boiling wall cloud forming under a thunderhead in the vicinity swept through the area. Farther to the north, high capped off cumulonimbus marched stately to the east scattering rain and lightning in their wake.

So the 50th EAA convention at Oshkosh has come to an end and I will long remember the sights and sounds of this glorious mix of all types of aviation gathering to celebrate flight on this 100th anniversary of man?s taking to the skies with powered wings.
 
Saint PA-14 follow up

Nate Saint PA-14 across the Caribbean - May 2004

Steve has been doing some writing since he returned from Panama, and we'll share with you some excerpts that tell about the adventures of Steve and Barry flying home in the little yellow PA-14 that played a vital role in the film: Walk His Trail

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, the filming was done and I had to get old 56Henry (the PA-14 used in the movie) back home to Dunnellon, Florida. We took 56H down to Panama in a shipping container. I didn't want to go through the long and painful process of disassembly, packing and re-assembly, so flying home was the only viable alternative.

Any way you look at it, flying from Panama City to Central Florida is a long way in a plane whose top speed won't keep up with my Honda Accord if I open it up. The shortest route is straight north to Grand Cayman on the South side of Cuba, with a second leg across Cuba to Florida. The safest route seemed to be overland, up to Texas and then around the gulf coast and down into Florida. Barry, my congenial pilot/mechanic/friend who maintained 56Henry during the filming in Panama suggested we compromise. We decided to fly up through Central America to the Yucatan Peninsula and then launch across the Caribbean, past Cuba to Florida. That way, we could take a chance on running into mountains without completely giving up the opportunity of ditching into the ocean. And we wouldn't miss the adventure of all the paperwork and uncertainty of flying over and through multiple foreign countries in the process.

We chose April 14th (2004) as our launch day. I took a quick side trip to Ecuador after the filming was done and didn't get back to Panama until the day before. Barry took a week off in the U.S. so he had just returned too. We kept a daily 12-14 hour work schedule for the three months of filming, so both of us were tired. By the time we got to the airport on the 14th, it was too late to hook up our long-range tanks. I had just put them in the back of the plane, and changed the climb prop for a cruise prop before taking off for Ecuador. I hadn't even had a torque wrench, so we had to torque the prop, put on the spinner, and get our life raft and life vest situated so we could get at them quickly. By that time, it was early afternoon and I knew we had to leave or postpone.

The government officials at Gelabert airport (It used to be the U.S. Albrook Air Force base) were not in as big a hurry as we were. We don't have any proof that this aircraft ever came into Panama they informed me in Spanish. I beckoned to one of them to join me at the control tower window and pointed at 56Henry sitting out on the ramp in all its tiny, ancient, bright yellow splendor. There you see, I offer you proof that it did come, I offered with lots more assurance than I felt. The plane was in Panama, therefore, it must have come. I followed up by handing out copies of a book, Through Gates of Splendor which show the original 56H in Ecuador and on the beach all torn up and told them we had been filming the book's story in their beautiful and hospitable country.

A few laughs, a few abrazos, a few fees and taxes and a few more abrazos and we no longer needed documents showing that 56H had entered Panama legally. Besides, if it didn't enter legally, who is going to care if it leaves legally. If there are no papers showing it arrived, then why have papers showing it left, as long as all the fees and taxes are paid and everyone is friendly.

Now, don't misunderstand me. I respect the laws of every country. But, you have to interpret the laws based on the culture within which they exist. Those Panamanian officials are there to make sure that planes are not used for illegal purposes such as drug and arms smuggling. You didn't have to be a rocket scientist or the sharpest tack in the box to see that we didn't have any room for either of those in 56Henry. They fulfilled their responsibility without paperwork.

We took off and set the GPS for Limon, on the East Coast of Costa Rica. 56Henry might be an antique, but thanks to friends with Mission Aviation Fellowship, our old steed had the nicest instrument panel I have ever flown behind; including a panel-mounted, color moving map, global positioning system. It painted a lot of water between us and Costa Rica. I started reviewing in my mind what we would do if we had to ditch.

I had thought a little about what would happen if we did have have to land in the ocean. Now as the GPS turned blue and the outline of land slid off the left side of the map, I gave it a lot more thought. The plane will no doubt settle quickly until both wings are in the water. That means that Barry and I will be underwater. No, wait a minute. When the gear hits, we will probably flip on our back. That means the wings will be under us and will keep us afloat for a few minutes. Yeah, but we'll be upside down and disoriented if we are still conscious. Get those shoulder harnesses tight on the way down so you don't kiss the instrument panel at 45 miles per hour or impale yourself on the control stick. It occurred to me that someone should write a book on ditching procedures. But who would read it? If the author had actually had to ditch enough times to know what he or she was talking about, who would trust them? And, if their advice was just based on conjecture, the same thing, who would trust them?

By the time we were approaching the coast of Costa Rica, we realized it would be too late to re-fuel and fly another leg. We decided to push on for the capital of San Jose. The map showed a big valley running from the East Coast up to San Jose. We figured we could pick up a major road and follow it up the valley between several towering mountain peaks. Unfortunately, there were no roads leading up our valley to the capital, and the river wasn't getting bigger as it made its way down toward the Pacific. In fact, the ground under us was rising and the solid overcast was getting lower and lower. Suddenly it dawned on me. The valley was rising under us to a continental divide. We would have to squeeze between the ground and the clouds before we could start down the valley that would lead us to San Jose.

By the time we reached what I thought was the continental divide, we were in a little tunnel with clouds above and on both sides. I stayed to my side of the tunnel and decided that I would turn back just before the tunnel got too narrow to make a 180 without running into clouds that might be harboring something much harder than air and H20. Finally, I saw what looked like sunshine on the other side of the ominous ridge just ahead. We only had about a hundred feet of clearance between the ridge and the clouds above, but the prevailing wind was coming from behind us so we shouldn't encounter any significant mountain rotors on the near side of the ridge. Once on the other side I could see we would have several thousand feet between us and the ground, and the sun was definitely shining over there.

We squeaked through and it seemed like the whole world opened up before us. Besides that, our ground speed started to pick up. By the time we were cleared to land at the international airport in San Jose, we were doing about thirty miles an hour more over the ground than we were through the air. We had picked up a huge tailwind.

(With a Boeing 757 right behind them, waiting to land, their arrival in San Jose was safe, but not without the adrenaline rush that is part of living on the edge. But let's go back to Steve's story)

Friday was going to be our big jump. We were going to fly non-stop from Mexico to Florida. Our route of flight would take us close enough to Cuba to wave at Fidel. That would also mean that we would be within gliding distance of land for a short while during the flight.

By the time we had Cuba in our sight we felt like old hands at flying over water, but my inflatable life jacket was starting to rub my neck raw. My underarm was also raw from pumping fuel every fifteen minutes. Finally, I loosened my seat belt so I could swivel a bit and get my pumping arm in a new position.

I had just started pumping when there was an explosion of wind in the cabin. Everything in back that wasn't heavy or tied down began to swirl around like a mini tornado. My door had blown open. I cinched my belt down as tight as I could get it and took stock of what we had lost. One large pillow used to insulate my legs from freezing air blowing in through the cracks around my door, several navigation charts, a couple of rags was all my inventory showed missing. But, my door was still flattened against the underside of the wing and Barry and I were freezing in the blast of 38-degree air blowing over us.

This wasn't the first time my door has blown open so I knew the chances of getting it to latch in flight were not good. Every other time I could just fly with it open until I landed. But this time, that would be two hours away. By then Barry and I would both be too cold and stiff to land the plane. I had to get the door closed, even if I had to hold it closed with my arm out the window. I tried that for about a minute and realized I would lose my left arm. Barry and I would really be a team then. He lost his right arm after a motorcycle accident years ago. It is amazing what he can do with only his left arm. He has all his flight ratings including multi-engine and instruments and is a great aircraft mechanic. But he has had years to learn how to do all those things and I didn't want to go through what he has. So, I decided I would find a way to keep the door shut without having to hold my arm against the door, through the open window. Finally, I slammed it hard enough so that it latched.

By this time, however, Barry was shivering pretty badly. He was dressed in light shorts and a couple of t-shirts. I dug out all my extra clothes to wrap around him, filling in the openings with the rags that had soaked up the spilled gasoline from the boat tank. (Ask Steve or Barry about that story) Then I offered him the hot pink foam life preserver he had used as a mattress in Costa Rica. All that and his bright yellow inflatable life vest made quite a picture. I snapped a couple but I was pretty cold too and they turned out just well enough for us to get some laughs out of it when we are really old and have forgotten what it feels like to freeze to death in a rag-wing Piper off the tip of Cuba.

By the time Barry spotted Key West, we were ready to be home. It would be clear real soon that being back on U.S. soil, however, did not mean we were home. First, we had to face the U.S. Customs Service. It wasn't going to be a friendly welcome. I have never flown any illegal substances or other illegal merchandise across any U.S. border. I do know, though, how someone who does, and gets caught, must feel.

The tower cleared us to customs and a welcoming party was there waiting for us. Barry's and my enthusiasm at completing our longest flight across open ocean was not shared by one of the customs officials. Everyone else was polite enough, but agent x (I'll call him "Comedy" because he shares a last name with one of my favorite comedians) was almost hostile. We had not informed him that we were coming and had not given him the required one-hour minimum notice. Oh, no! I thought, until I remembered that we had filed a flight plan more than six hours ago, before leaving Cozumel. Then I also remembered that we had been talking with air traffic controllers for over two hours before landing. I told him all this, but he didn't seem to believe me. Where is your copy of the flight plan? I was surprised to find it was right in my hand. I offered it to him and he perused it, but he was not moved. You didn't put on your flight plan, "ad cus",or something like that which means that the air traffic controllers should advise customs that the plane on the flight plan will be needing to pass customs.

I had to call Ginny to let her know that we were safe on the ground. If I didn't call soon, she would surmise that we were down but not on land, or at least not on land with a telephone.

One of the other officials in the Customs office had seemed a little exasperated with the proceedings. I decided to ask her to call Ginny for me collect. She seemed happy to help me and I noticed, didn't make the call "collect". I hope you won't judge all of us just because one of us is a jerk, she responded when I thanked her profusely. Then, back to agent Comedy.

I'm going to have to write you up for this violation. There won't be any fine this time, but this will go on your record and the next time you will pay a five thousand dollar fine, he affirmed. I started to argue my case again but decided it was no use. We had flown in Panama for three months and then all the way back to the U.S. We had paid our share of fees and taxes but everyone had seemed happy to have us drop in until we got to Florida. O.K. so maybe we weren't home. But with a little gas and a few more hours of flying, we would be. But it was going to be dark by the time we got there and we didn't have any landing lights.

After flying in terrible winds and landing on sandbars and postage stamp airstrips for three months in Panama, landing in the dark without landing lights seemed like no big deal. But we would try to beat the dark anyway. We didn't make it.

We landed at X-35 about an hour after sundown and taxied up to our own hangar. The doors were open and two feminine figures were standing there in welcome. There's Ginny and Martha, Barry informed me. I had noticed. Now, we were really "home"!

 
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