Tony's Pant's

They were actually Joyce's pants. They were not installed on her beloved Isabo when she(Isabo) met her untimely demise (read "The story that must be told" Jan 2010 blog at; a Granny's Place is in the Cockpit). I saw a forum post looking for a way to get the pants in Chehalis to Tony at the annual Arlington fly-in. I go to the June Fantasy Field fly-in and Joyce also attends. Fantasy Field is a private grass field. It is always a great party and a fun grass strip to fly off of. Short enough to make me bring my 'A' game but still not so challenging that it is a great risk. It is less than a hour south, if I cut over the low spot in the ridge line and over the power plant, and the choppy air it also generates. soon I spot the field and Hear DaveB's familiar voice on the comm. Having a set of eye's on the ground to keep us aviators clear of each other is an important job. Dave is not responsible for us, we are pilots, we must make all final decisions regarding the safe operation of our craft. But is is helpful to have his skilled assistance. Landing to the NW is the best, no trees , just drop it in over the barbed wire fence and between the trees on the sides. the turf is closely and recently mowed, smooth and level without ruts, swales or pot holes. The exit is at the end. The pants fit easily in the baggage compartment of the172 I flew in that day.After enjoying the fare that Terry & Kelly set out I departed out the way I came in. Winds were light so downwind was not a problem. The runway was long firm and smooth, the danger was the trees lining the sides from midfield on. I wanted to spend as little time as possible climbing between them. Nose high at low speed one cannot see ahead and must rely on peripheral vision. It requires sharp rudder work. I can accomplish this, but being the chicken pilot I was looking for the quickest way to get above the tree tops. I gave it @8 degrees of flap and held neutral elevator at first but lightly holding the plane on the ground till 60 mph. As soon as I relaxed pressure on the yoke the eager craft leapt into the air and began a Vx climb at 65 mph. I passed through ground affect and accelerated skyward. Soon I was above the surrounding trees and retracting the flaps allowing more speed. After crossing the power plant and clearing the ridge line I heard Judy just leaving her Pierce county air-park to attend the event I had so recently departed. Sixty planes attended about 30 at any time on the field. A month later I loaded the pants into the Cherokee. It was a Thursday afternoon. I got off work early, but not as early as I had hoped. Then the traffic was awful. the weather had been doubtful all day, yet at 5PM it had cleared to 3000' at Arlington and Auburn. It was still quite blustery out with broken overcast. As I made my taxi Jamison in his mini Mustang called me a pirep about AWO. He had not made it and it seemed that from the south no one else had. It was a wall of cloud at Paine, with other aircraft milling about all looking in vain for a hole. I thought since I was in the plane I would take a look. Ha, quick look, as soon as I was on downwind I was ready to quit. The wall was visible in the distance, and the idea of beating myself up and STILL not making it was not very appealing.It had been rush rush rush getting going, I was handling the aircraft rather clumsily, I just felt like it was not the time to complete this mission. A turn to base and a hot final with a long landing.Twelve minutes on the Hobbs. I was disappointed, yet relieved, deep down I knew I was not bringing my 'A' game. That is when I knew aborting was the right thing, even if it meant a four to six hour drive in traffic on the weekend. Friday morning my boss,Larry told me to take off early and make the trip if the weather cooperated. It did, winds died, clouds lifted, rains stopped. I tried to relax in the once again crummy traffic. When I got to the club office I found the printout about the Arlington Fly-in that I had read online. Reading it again I discovered that the airshow lasted till 5 and I would not be able to land till then. While I idled around the hanger watching the traffic in the pattern, the club 172 landed after a series of touch and goes. Gerry stepped out signed Brians logbook and set him off to solo! Brain made three good stop and go's, job well done Brian. By then it was time for me to get going. Things felt much better and the speedy Cherokee quickly was flying past Tiger Mt. at 140MPH. Over Fall city the Zaon hit a nearby target and I soon saw a Mooney passing on my right. I figured he was also headed to Arlington but he soon outdistanced me. Next a 182 flew by High & to my left (and to close for my comfort, so I swung away till he was well past me) and followed the 182 the rest the way to Grass Valley Airport. We lined up and flew the a approach & pattern while the Tower did a marvelous job of handling the high traffic flow. They sort of forgot me on downwind but it was no problem for them to clear me for the numbers on 34. I think the taxi to a parking spot behind the guide motor-scooter might have taken almost as long as the flight. Finally I was at the Arlington fly-in. Now all I have to do is find their campsite. Gathering the pants in their bags I trudged off toward the RV sites. After walking around with these bulky , but not heavy, wheel pants for what seemed like half an hour, and futility asking directions from staff in their carts, I was standing by the discussion forum tents. Wrong forum's for me, when I decided to ask another guy in a golf cart. This time I hit pay dirt. I quickly recognized the very slimmed down John(an acro pilot) and he gave me a ride directly to the proper location. I had been only a few dozen yards away, nearly in sight of them. I finally met the new owner of Isabo's pants, Tony. Tony comes down from Canada, eh(actually He is English not Canadian, and I heard not one single 'eh' from him the entire time) and camps in his RV for the five day event, the third largest GA event in the US. We downed a few cold ones, mine Virgil's root beer, and chatted. Kip recommended eating the wraps being sold across the taxiway and although she had just closed up the nice lady offered to make me a beef& blu cheese, since the grill was still hot. It was indeed fine fare. Finally it began to cool off and Tony & his son John gave me a hand pushing my plane back out of the grass parking spot so I didn't run over or blow over any tents. It was only a few minutes past nine pm when I called my wife from the run-up area, then we were aloft again. The Cherokee was quickly speeding along with a tailwind southward . Twenty-five minutes later I called my wife from the gas pump at Auburn. Two flights (three if you count Thursdays abort) and two different aircraft , Mission accomplished.

The Thrill of Mountain Flying

I have been trying to fly in amongst the mountains for many moons. It seems each time I make an attempt something, wind, cloud, fog or nerves turned me around before I got very close to my goal. It might seem trivial to the more seasoned pilots, but flying into the edges of the mountains at relatively low AGL is a new and exciting experience for me. The mission to day was the Howard Hanson reservoir. Having always flown at least 2000' above the rocks on my previous crossings I didn't know what it would be like to be below the surrounding peaks. I had flown the day before and it was an average day, not glassy but not rough, with a fairly steady winds of 4 to 10 knts around the area.The morning of the 4th of July was calm & blue. Flight Central showed calm or light winds and clear at nearly every local airport. I booked 34H, our trusty mid '70's 172 & drove myself to Dick Scobee Field.. A quick preflight, a check of the log showed I had flown it last, and I was dragging it out of the hanger and visiting the "blue pilot lounge" one last time before boarding. My charts were tucked under the edge of my bag in the rt front seat. I read the check list to be sure i had not skipped anything and called out "Clear!". The 160 HP Lycoming fired quickly and settled into a steady purr at 100 RPM. I began to roll as I flipped on the avionics and clicked the mike for an AWOS. I set the Garmin on 12 Mile map and taxied to runway 34. Controll check , Mag check, set the gryo's strobes & ck the gauges. as soon as the oil temp comes off the peg I am making a radio call and taking the active. It's not warm out yet and the Cessna easily hits 1000 FPM for a short time on clime out. Soon I am calling out to Crest that I am passing by north of the field at 2000 & climbing. I pass 3000 just a minutes after passing the edge of the class B airspace restriction.The class B lid rose to 5 then 6 thousand before I flew outside the area, but I had no plans to be even that high. There had been some low clouds and haze coming out of the foothills as I took off from Auburn. As I climbed to above 3000 they were suddenly below me and I could clearly see the hills ahead. Ravensdale passed below me, then Selleck. I had been this far before, the road ends at Selleck, and I have turned around where the valley begins to narrow in the past. By this time I was at 4000', a little higher, about 4,300' and I glimpsed the lake in the distance. It was smooth as I lowered the nose and the plane picked up a few knots as it descended under 3500' and below the tops of the hills. It is about 8 miles from Selleck to the Reservoir, only a track beneath the power lines that track through the valley. I spied a few waterfalls on the hills as I passed, some at eye level to me. It must have only taken about five minutes, but it seemed like a long five minutes. My left fingers were gripped tightly on the yoke , my right hand on the throttle and my eyes scanning the panel and taking in the beauty of nature as I slowly came closer to the water. Finally the lake was clearly in view, it seemed so small with several separate bodies strung together. I could see that the valley & power lines turned a bit north to climb Stampede Pass, but I had little time to look, it was time to make a tight right turn, steeply banking as the Plane rotated nearly 270 degrees to exit the much narrower Green River Gorge. The trees were much closer here, I was glad I had chosen to exit this way, it was too narrow to turn around. Now I again could see the city in the distance as I again pitched the plane slightly down to gain speed as I zoomed over Palmer and west to the safety of the open Kent plateau. The Green River twisted still in it's hairpin turns writhing along till the valley opens up near Sky Harbor. I was only a few minutes from Auburn and home. Finally I had accomplished one of my planed missions of exploration. I have so many more , but I am very lucky. Some pilots go to Alaska or Johnson Creek and other such very challenging places far from here to seek new challenges. I got a terrific thrill from this flight, and it took a total of 36 minutes on the hobbs from taxi out, to back in the hanger.