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.

My Big Iron disconnect

I live 2 miles off of Seatac16C. I sit on my deck and listening to Seatac tower & departure.from the time they are cleared to take off till I see the airliner rise above the trees is less than a minute. Shortly after the giant plane appears in view the tower is releasing them to departure and the pilots throttle back for noise abatement.I know what they are doing and often in my mind I picture the Captain & FO at their posts. I don't imagine myself as the pilot. The Idea of my flying a piece of big iron full of people or even cargo is foriegn to me. Flying is fun for me because I am only doing it to please myself. I do it for the thrill I get every time the wheels leave the ground. Flying isn't something I want to become routine. I fly for the excitement I feel seeing the earth so far below my wings.. I can imagine the pilots of those sleek aerial steeds setting the co-ordinates and auto-pilot as they 'fly' off to far away destinations. It just isn't the flying I want to do. I can bank my wings to check for traffic, climb or descend at will. I can do dutch rolls and turns around a point at any time I wish. I have no schedule to meet. I enjoy watching these pros pilot their Boeing's, Bombardier's. Embraila'a and Scarebus's steadily soaring upward. I spot the ones with real savvy by their landing technique. It's easy to hear a hand that is constantly adjusting the power setting. I can hear the guy who keeps the engines alone and glides in like he is on rails. My dive & flare technique would have the pax in the back screaming in fear. I just don't imagine myself as an airline pilot.

Good air

Lately I have been making "Dawn Patrol's". I check the local strips & make sure no aliens have landed during the night. I wander aimlessly around from covington To Eatonville & back. I'll practice what passes for a low pass with me by flying 1000' AGL over lakes Ohop & Kapowsin, and all the way to Orting. Usually it is calm out so early, but if there is turbulence it is worse closer to the hills & higher up. We had some real nice air this winter. I took advantage of them to land at Spanaway & find then land at Shady Acres. Shady is a fun strip to land on. Summer would be less of a challenge, but i hit it with snow on the ground. Deep enough to keep me honest & on the pavement. It was calm so I didn't have to back taxi. With those two I think i have landed at most of the local places. Except Vashon. I have seen Vashon from the ground as well as having flown over. I am waiting till they log it all off. A few mornings about all I could manage was a quick flight from Boeing to Auburn. Makes for a fine Saturday morning in glum winter weather. I don't need much ceiling to hop ten minutes down the valley. Heck I don't even need a chart. Then i get to hang out at Auburn Airport lounge to listen to some sage hanger flying from the more seasoned aviators . My wife doesn't get it. I could drive fifteen minutes to Auburn & have Coffee. Or I can drive fifteen minutes to Boeing, hop in a C-150 & fly to coffee. It makes perfect sense to me , & I bet if you're reading my blog then You too would take option "b" and drive the equal distance to Boeing. And on those lucky morning that I find good air I can fly around my little sandbox, and make sure hoards of tanks are not rolling out of the hills to invade our way of life.

Holes in the Sky

It was TJ's idea. He had seen a sign advertising the War birds Museum in Nampa Idaho while visiting his Aunt."It's a destination, Dave." He said. That's all we need , a destination. so this trip had been planned , the three of us, TJ, Lauri, & I were flying to Nampa. Museum hours were 10 to 5, but we needed to be done at the airport by 3 to suit his aunts plans. That gave us a 9 am last departure time to allow time to see the P-40 Warhawks , among the collection. I awoke just after 4AM. I wandered out to the deck and peered upward.
the Moon broke out of the overcast, then dimmed as a few wisps of cloud and teased me with a clear full view. A sight that only lasted a few minutes before once again the clouds hid the bright glow of the reflecting surface of the Moon. but that was enough. After quickly showering and dressing ,I gathered my bags left at the stair the night before and kissed my wife before locking the house behind me. One last wave and I am on my way to Auburn. It has been a long time since I have been up this early, or out this late, and the traffic is sparse. It is not long before my Breakfast Jack is served and I have driven across the street and into the airport. The Moon, it still teases me. How big are those holes I wonder? I keep seeing them so I believe there is hope I can fly thru one to the bright clear VFR I know awaits me on top.TJ and Lauri are on the way as soon as I call, we board and taxi to the line, mags check, radio call , pullout a,turn and apply the throttle. in less than a minute we are climbing out. Late, I pull up the take off flaps and the Cherokee immediately responds by jumping up to 120 mph. Gathering speed we are soon hurtling along under the scud at better that 140 looking for those holes we saw. Finding what looks like an opening I use my airspeed to zoom up at over 1000 FPM. The sky closes up and we are between layers. The lower layer is scattered and the ground below can still be seen. I circle. Checking the GPS I assure myself I am outside the 3000' class B lid.I can go to 5 if I need to, but the tops should not be that high. .Pacing back and forth over eastern King county we probe first one than another glimpse of blue.It is just to early I decide. Going back to Auburn, TJ asks to be let out while I gas up again. We load on almost full tanks this time. with over 40 gallons I have the range to make Nampa with a hour reserve. Computer weather doesn't give me much hope, but the moon keeps on teasing us with prolonged gaps in the clouds that reveal the bright crescent of the moon. Although it is loaded heavier than I have ever been, the aircraft easily climbs out. Soon we are again chasing spots of blue above us. Each time I zoom up until my airspeed drops off and the cloud begins to creep closer. With the opening misting over I dive back to the still visible surface below me. the metar's seem to have reported a higher ceiling up north, so I decide to try to look there for an opening. Even if I have to gas up later because it takes longer to get out we can still make Nampa before 1 local.I talk to Renton , then flight watch. I am not given much hope, and as we cruise north the layers only get worse. We are not going to Nampa today.

Great NW Air Race

We had the windows open as we slowly followed the biplane down the taxiway. There was no hurry now,we were awaiting the departure of the scheduled airline. Our timing was good, the fastest plane stops for less than a minute before the turboprop full of paying passengers rolls out to the runway. Then it is on. The fastest classes depart at 15 to 30 second intervals. We creep forward steadily , till at last the biplane turns into the wind and accelerates away. He is much faster so I am waved out a mere 15 seconds later. I climb to 1000 agl and accelerate toward the start line. It is only a few minutes on this heading until we reach the confluence of the Wenatchee River & Columbia, our next Checkpoint. Gil, my Co-pilot, calls the turn and I pivot the Cherokee to the right as we follow the gorge of he Colombia northward. Chelan is on our left as we climb gradually just enough to clear the bluff ahead by the merest of margins. 200 ft is good enough for me, then everything gets light as I nose over on the far side losing a few hundred feet before the turn at Anderson Field, Brewster. The Southeast leg to Mansfield takes us over a few dry valleys and ranches. Below I spot a few developed lots among a maze of roads & graded right of ways for future roads. All part of a grand scheme of a bustling community of homes and dreams that never sold or came true. A few had pioneered , only to have a vast sprawl of roads without homes surrounding them. The next ridge was cleared by a few hundred feet and the altitude maintained. This kept us 1000 agl over the turn at Mansfield. I made one of my mistakes next. Crossing the next ridge I saw a small town at the base of the next rise , and assumed it to be Quincy. It wasn't. I was far short, but I had let down and now the climb cost me. over one more ridge , past a cell tower, and there it was, Quincy. But where is the airport? Gil spots something ,He thinks it is the field, but I can't see it. I keep flying on another few precious miles before I realize I have to be past it. Banking hard right I steady on the final heading hoping the Grumman who had been a mere two minutes behind as we called in to Quincy had not past me.The gauges were all good.EGT steady just ROP. RPM at max cruise 75%. There the edge of the gorge again, now I can descend another few hundred feet and pick up a few more mph. The 5 mile call. the Grumman calls in too. We are neck and neck. I know he is straining to see me. Gil and I are frantically looking to the plane we know is very close and only two hundred feet above. We sped on,tugging the throttle out a touch to be sure i am getting all the throttle the POH allows.(It is a shared airplane, I might consider running at full T/O rpm if I owned it outright.) A red roof, we are aiming for a red roof and there it is! keep it smooth & steady center the ball, everything slick.Without a single noticeable difference it is over. The red roof has vanished beneath us and I am cooling of the engine. Slowing to pattern speed. The Grumman beat me by seconds, but he is not in my class. The waiting is as exiting as the race itself, then they announce , " The winner of the GOLD in FAC3FX, Dave Rice, in a PA28-180, at 136.95 mph. My first air race , my first win. My co-pilot Gil was a great help. We had chow and chatted with the other racers before we made our return over the rocks to the green side of the hill.












sgl over the turn at Mansfield

Expanding the sandbox

It was a clear calm Saturday morning . After a cup of coffee at the Auburn Pilot lounge, I took 34H, the 172, south past Eatonville. I climbed as I reached the hills around Alder Lake. I've read Sparky's book, and was not sure if these were mountains but I still tried to gain 2000' over the peaks. I had reached nearly 7,000' before I spotted the town of Morton. Descending at the top of the green arc I made my first call about 8 out. An answer came from local traffic with an advisory. Morton is a small strip on the east edge of town. The 25 x 1800' paved runway is not especially hard to approach if you are landing 25. On the west side is rather imposing terrain rising steeply just south of Hwy 12. The Ultralight crowd has Strom Field buzzing with activity. The advisory had come from a Trike motoring about over the tops of the hills. I flew out to Riffe Lake before reversing and coming into 25 on a dogleg approach. After some chat with the ultra light crowd I departed on 7 and continued East toward Packwood. The valley is pleasant & wide, Hwy 12 clearly leading the way. Packwood at last appeared as I rounded a left hand bend in the valley. Having not heard anything on the CTAF I made the straight in on 1. At 2400'x38 Packwood poses no challenge. They were mowing the edges while I was there. I used the permanent facility to relieve my bladder then remounted & took of on 19. Hugging the North side of the valley till near Randall kept me directly over 12. At Randall I veered over to the south side of the valley and followed the River to Riffe Lake. Having camped there many years ago it was interesting to see the lake from above. It is spring, so it was not surprising to observe the water level was quite high. Many areas often dry, were now under water. Overflying the lake at about 1000 agl was very smooth and provided a great view. Finally we were at the dam then Mossyrock. There are several private strips marked on the chart but only found a couple. I did find Fantasy Field, and circled it. Not seeing anyone I set course for Chehalis. I actually did a proper pattern at Chehalis and upon parking immediately noticed a familar Ercoupe. Sure enough , It was Ercoupe Eddie And his flying partner Gene. After a chat they got gas, and it was time for me to head home. Two and a half hours on the hobbs, and two new airports in my log book. Best of all , my sandbox got bigger.