As I was born, raised and luckily still live north of the Masshole Line, I learned early on about people like from away, city folk, and such. But I was also raised to believe there’s every reason to put forth the opportunity of friendship first.
My first WAD event in NH was unique to say the least as the rental cub I had split one of its two 9 gallon wind tanks on the first night there. Fate or blessing in disguise, I’ve reflected on that entire weekend many times about the warmth, compassion, giving and help I received directly and indirectly. Never before had I ever been to a group of like minded people in business or for pleasure and witnessed that feeling or experience. It surely set the tone.
Which brings me to my story of last weekend, and West Virginia.
Having looked at the map for suggested stops and lunch, I had seen a few additional spots along the river that intrigued me. So Doug and I thought we should check them out. Some coastal Indian named 2Dawgs thought he would run along with us and Captain Furlong figured he could fly high cover. So off we went.
Not long in the air on a discrete frequency we saw a couple of lost souls from MD catching up to us and figured the more the merrier. Of course they wondered about hitching their cart to the wrong horse for the rest of the weekend.
After arcing through the shallow and beautifully winding valleys, and then popping out onto the Ohio river, we stopped at Herron Field for a quick stretch. Looking around at the faces there I saw happiness, fun grins and well executed jabs at each of us, proving the bond between airmen was still real. The band was back together.
As we had enjoyed the landscape earlier we felt it best to head direct to Cheat Island so as not to be hungry and wanting later on. Partially because of this we flew just north of a very cool looking strip called Lynn, that was an uphill dogleg on the spine of a ridge and knoll. We continued on and soon were gliding down into “The island on Cheat River” to a most magnificent airfield an enthusiast had cleared for himself. And apparently, for us as well. A good time there included using his two zip lines to cross the river, which as far as I can tell should now be a requirement at any riverside airstrip.
The prologue to the gist of this story has grown long, but stick with me.
With Lou and Tim headed north in their manufactured machines the 5 of us headed downstream on the advice of the island owner. It was as stated. Big open WV valley with walls angling up from the river, trees showing off their color in the sunshine. Once we had diverted far enough downstream and hopped back up onto the tops Doug mentioned we really should go find Lynn again before getting to the fuel stop. And so we did.
Lynn airstrip is a wonderful spot, 18WV in the map at 1680’ elevation, which is pretty high for this state. That uphill right dogleg is listed in the AFM as having 1700 feet of grass, but as the owner joked they never inspected it and it’s really like 700 feet of uphill to a 500 foot spine to a 500 foot parking area. Good fun spot.
So we all come circling around and wheel our way in, with a couple of mentions in the radio to make the turn at the dogleg slow as to not fall off the side, since you can’t see much land out the side at that point.
We all get to the top, park and start to chat about how cool this place is when this maroon colored small SUV comes hauling ass up the runway. Everyone instinctively turns to make an attempt the distance themselves, particularly from me, the guy they threw out as a spokesman.
As the vehicle screams this way the brakes lock up and the door flys open before his tires have bunched up enough grass to come to a complete stop. With the door hinges now likely bent from the transference of energy from potential to kinetic, my thoughts are scrambling between Steve Eaton and Tom Ford.
There’s a good chance this guy doesn’t know either, and with plenty of stories about Steve Eaton it might just work out. But I probably look more like Tom Ford so if they come looking after we escape maybe it will divert the authorities?
So with all expectations of this guy being pissed he jumps out with ... a camera. A smile. And a “where the heck are you guys from?”
From there it was all golden. The WV friendship was passed on, photos were taken, excitement was conveyed. We thanked him and truly meant it.
We weren’t in the air 10 minutes before slicing over a manicured spot just west of Rob Lynn’s, named Carr, for Pat and Sherry Carr. She was a-waving and practically jumping up down so naturally we stopped. Her husband Pat build an RV4, flew to Oshkosh and got the Lindy award. And sitting in the hangar it looked like the day if finished, in 1995. Awesome people. Awesome place.
So the moral of the story is expect the best, shed off the massholes of the world and you’ll be welcome back in many wonderful places.
Edit : I’ve been kicked off a strip in Mass, hence the example.
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