The wind in Billings finally died a little after 5, and I got out. About 15 miles out of Gillette, WY, I flew into the smoke trail of a contained forest fire. Visibility was still fine as long as you weren't looking toward the sun. I put my lights on to be more visible, and landed at Gillette right about the time the sun touched down, too.
The next morning was cool, bright, with fair weather, and I tried to cover ground as fast as I could. Stopped for fuel and sunblock in Wall, SD. Wall Drugs is a tourist trap, not a functional drugstore... darned hard to find sunblock. Got back to the plane, and managed to burn my legs right through SPF 45.
Got to Chamberlain, SD before the heat exhaustion started making me stupid. Landed, drank half a gallon of water, talked with a couple Agcat mechanics (working on a Thrush, right then.) Realized I was flat-out exhausted, camped. Spectacular lightning and thunder show around midnight, but almost no rain.
Woke up this morning to the sun shining, birds chirping, jake brakes... wait, no, that's distant thunder. Waited for the thunderstorms to pass, then took off along I-90 as it was the clearest corridor east. Fifty miles later, realized I was pointed directly at a growing thundercloud just down the road. Landed at the airport to my right, and having a cold soda while watching the radar until it reports the coast is clear.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Billings, MT
About an hour out of Bozeman, I noticed my oil temps were slowly but steadily rising, and my oil pressure very gently declining. Having just changed the oil, this worried me. So, I set down in Columbus, MT. There, I found an IA to talk to about operating temps and pressures for my engine... for 4400 feet above the sea, when it is 96 degrees in the shade. Long story short, the engine's fine. By the way, Woltermann Memorial Airport has an awesome pilot cabin with couches, microwave, shower, bathroom, even towels and a stocked bookcase. It's all built and maintained by volunteers, and funded by donations.
While talking to the IA, we noticed an airplane circling overhead. Neither of us recognized it, but we both recognized the sound of a sick engine. The airplane turned out to be a beautiful DeHavilland Chipmunk, with a sick carburetor. ATC (Billings Approach) called the IA to see if he'd gotten in safely, as there is no tower. As the pilot had to go to Billings to catch a commercial flight back to Idaho and retrieve another carb, and I was headed near Billings, I gave him a ride in.
Once on the ground, thunderstorms set in, and I spent the rest of the afternoon circling the radar updates and calling weather briefers until giving up for the night. By the time I had the airplane ready to go this morning, the sky was bright cloudless blue... and the wind kicked up strong. By the time I got the aircraft back into a tiedown and ties firmly down, it was 24 gusting 30 knots.
So, a beautiful day for Sudoku puzzles and tea in the FBO!
While talking to the IA, we noticed an airplane circling overhead. Neither of us recognized it, but we both recognized the sound of a sick engine. The airplane turned out to be a beautiful DeHavilland Chipmunk, with a sick carburetor. ATC (Billings Approach) called the IA to see if he'd gotten in safely, as there is no tower. As the pilot had to go to Billings to catch a commercial flight back to Idaho and retrieve another carb, and I was headed near Billings, I gave him a ride in.
Once on the ground, thunderstorms set in, and I spent the rest of the afternoon circling the radar updates and calling weather briefers until giving up for the night. By the time I had the airplane ready to go this morning, the sky was bright cloudless blue... and the wind kicked up strong. By the time I got the aircraft back into a tiedown and ties firmly down, it was 24 gusting 30 knots.
So, a beautiful day for Sudoku puzzles and tea in the FBO!
Monday, July 18, 2011
Picture Post Whitehorse to Bozeman
Having discovered after some good sleep and coffee that I got the pictures in the last post out of order, I've corrected them and will continue on.
Leaving Whitehorse in beautiful weather, I followed the Alcan down past Marsh Lake.
Refuelled at Teslin, where I met a wonderful young bloodhound puppy who will grow into a full howl - he's sure working on it! Canada has Community Area Radio Stations instead of Flight Service Stations like home in Alaska - the folks there can only tell you about the local weather, and update or close your flight plan if you file to that airport. They're pretty awesome folks, friendly, extremely well-versed in their local weather. After transferring fuel from the jerry cans to the gas tanks and chatting with a mechanic who came out to check out my plane, I went on to Watson Lake.
After Watson Lake, I flew on to Fort Nelson (the river rapids and rainbow are in the last post.) I dodged enough showers getting there that I went left over the Liard River instead of right over the Alcan right after Liard Hot Springs. That would be the last good weather I'd see for days.
This is what the sky looked like south of Ft Nelson when I got there, and the next day it only looked worse. The FBO was awesome, though, and I found enough to do that I wasn't bored.
Like helping diagnose, try to repair, and replace a magneto.
Finally made it, going low over the railroad tracks instead of taking the high road down the Alcan, to Fort Saint John, and spent another day weathered out there. How can you tell when the FBO is used to dealing with tired oilpatch roughnecks?
Got out of Fort St John to Grande Prairie by running low, close to the ground, dodging the worst of the lowest ceilings and keeping a sharp eye on my sectional for terrain. At Grande Prairie, weathered out for the rest of the day, and split a hotel room with a wonderful couple in a Maule who'd started from Watson Lake that morning. Yes, they covered in one day what took me five days - not only is their plane faster, but I have been pushing against a low weather trough, and they were not... until they caught up with it and with me.
The next day the heavy rain stopped, and several hundred square miles were covered by fog. It lifted slowly, and a little after noon, we determined it was high enough to go. So we flew out as a two-ship flight, pushing forward.
We got to Red Deer, and split another hotel for the night - this time exhaustion, not weather was the primary reason. It's an awesome place - the AirSpray hangar has a bunch of DC-3's outside. See the one in Reeve Aleutian colors? There's something I haven't seen in a long time! The folks at Hillman Aviation were putting a Christen Eagle biplane back together after the import inspection, and it was just head-turningly beautiful. We got gas at the tanks right outside, and they were kind enough to give us a lift into town and back.
The next morning, life was beautiful. I departed right behind the Maule, but there was no way I'd keep up. They called back from near Lethbridge, diverting toward Medicine Hat because the wind was high and gusting - but by the time I got to Lethbridge, the wind had dropped to 15 gusting 18 knots, and the wind at the diversion was the same.
Fuelled and filed for customs at Lethbridge, waited an hour for the wind to die just a little, and then continued down to a border strip. 4000 feet of grass, and thank goodness it was mostly into the very gusty wind, because there were barbed wire fences on each side of the runway. Had a little trouble - EAPIS will kick back the application unless you tell it you're going to a 4-letter identifier airport. Which the border strips definitely are not - that's for big airports that have plenty of asphalt and registrations with ICAO. The help file on EAPIS says if you're going to a smaller 3-letter identifier strip, to put the nearest 4-letter identifier strip in the destination, and then put your actual customs airport in the remarks below.
So I did, and called ahead as I'm supposed to do (and why on God's green earth do I need to file online to enter the country, when I'm already going to be going to a customs port, and I still have to call the customs port to let them know I'm coming?)
When I got there, they had decided that since I'd filed for the 4-letter airport nearby (DESPITE PUTTING THE SMALLER AIRPORT IN THE REMARKS AS INSTRUCTED), I must not be coming... and didn't come out to look at my plane until I called them on the cell while sitting a hundred feet from the building.
Despite all the bureaucratic bullshit and stupidity surrounding the whole process, the customs agents themselves were polite, professional, and remarkably easy to deal with.
As for bull shit of a more elemental kind - I have now learned to always be upwind of a cattle or pig lot like this one when flying by at a mere thousand feet off the ground. Spent too long in cities - you'd think that's obvious.
Spent the night camped by the plane at Choteau, Montana, as thunderstorms were blocking the passes south, and I'd rather camp under clear skies and wait out the billowing clouds to the south.
The next morning was bright, beautiful, blue skies everywhere, wind dropped to a playful five or seven knots just light enough to keep the mosquitoes and flies off. The major oddity as I packed up the tent - no dew on the grass or ground.
The road down goes past Helena to Bozeman, and the river and chain of lakes follows it before splitting off to one side. I took both down until they split - and seeing the narrowness of the road passes versus the width of the river channel, I took the river.
Finally arrived Bozeman, picked up by an old friend, and given coffee. Miss Cinnamon is no longer a small bundle of fluff with long legs sticking out, but she's definitely shedding as much as she always has! Just about everything I own has been liberally coated in dog hair as she has expressed how happy she is to see me, get a walk from me, and can she lick my plate when I'm done?
Leaving Whitehorse in beautiful weather, I followed the Alcan down past Marsh Lake.
Refuelled at Teslin, where I met a wonderful young bloodhound puppy who will grow into a full howl - he's sure working on it! Canada has Community Area Radio Stations instead of Flight Service Stations like home in Alaska - the folks there can only tell you about the local weather, and update or close your flight plan if you file to that airport. They're pretty awesome folks, friendly, extremely well-versed in their local weather. After transferring fuel from the jerry cans to the gas tanks and chatting with a mechanic who came out to check out my plane, I went on to Watson Lake.
After Watson Lake, I flew on to Fort Nelson (the river rapids and rainbow are in the last post.) I dodged enough showers getting there that I went left over the Liard River instead of right over the Alcan right after Liard Hot Springs. That would be the last good weather I'd see for days.
This is what the sky looked like south of Ft Nelson when I got there, and the next day it only looked worse. The FBO was awesome, though, and I found enough to do that I wasn't bored.
Like helping diagnose, try to repair, and replace a magneto.
Finally made it, going low over the railroad tracks instead of taking the high road down the Alcan, to Fort Saint John, and spent another day weathered out there. How can you tell when the FBO is used to dealing with tired oilpatch roughnecks?
Got out of Fort St John to Grande Prairie by running low, close to the ground, dodging the worst of the lowest ceilings and keeping a sharp eye on my sectional for terrain. At Grande Prairie, weathered out for the rest of the day, and split a hotel room with a wonderful couple in a Maule who'd started from Watson Lake that morning. Yes, they covered in one day what took me five days - not only is their plane faster, but I have been pushing against a low weather trough, and they were not... until they caught up with it and with me.
The next day the heavy rain stopped, and several hundred square miles were covered by fog. It lifted slowly, and a little after noon, we determined it was high enough to go. So we flew out as a two-ship flight, pushing forward.
We got to Red Deer, and split another hotel for the night - this time exhaustion, not weather was the primary reason. It's an awesome place - the AirSpray hangar has a bunch of DC-3's outside. See the one in Reeve Aleutian colors? There's something I haven't seen in a long time! The folks at Hillman Aviation were putting a Christen Eagle biplane back together after the import inspection, and it was just head-turningly beautiful. We got gas at the tanks right outside, and they were kind enough to give us a lift into town and back.
The next morning, life was beautiful. I departed right behind the Maule, but there was no way I'd keep up. They called back from near Lethbridge, diverting toward Medicine Hat because the wind was high and gusting - but by the time I got to Lethbridge, the wind had dropped to 15 gusting 18 knots, and the wind at the diversion was the same.
Fuelled and filed for customs at Lethbridge, waited an hour for the wind to die just a little, and then continued down to a border strip. 4000 feet of grass, and thank goodness it was mostly into the very gusty wind, because there were barbed wire fences on each side of the runway. Had a little trouble - EAPIS will kick back the application unless you tell it you're going to a 4-letter identifier airport. Which the border strips definitely are not - that's for big airports that have plenty of asphalt and registrations with ICAO. The help file on EAPIS says if you're going to a smaller 3-letter identifier strip, to put the nearest 4-letter identifier strip in the destination, and then put your actual customs airport in the remarks below.
So I did, and called ahead as I'm supposed to do (and why on God's green earth do I need to file online to enter the country, when I'm already going to be going to a customs port, and I still have to call the customs port to let them know I'm coming?)
When I got there, they had decided that since I'd filed for the 4-letter airport nearby (DESPITE PUTTING THE SMALLER AIRPORT IN THE REMARKS AS INSTRUCTED), I must not be coming... and didn't come out to look at my plane until I called them on the cell while sitting a hundred feet from the building.
Despite all the bureaucratic bullshit and stupidity surrounding the whole process, the customs agents themselves were polite, professional, and remarkably easy to deal with.
As for bull shit of a more elemental kind - I have now learned to always be upwind of a cattle or pig lot like this one when flying by at a mere thousand feet off the ground. Spent too long in cities - you'd think that's obvious.
Spent the night camped by the plane at Choteau, Montana, as thunderstorms were blocking the passes south, and I'd rather camp under clear skies and wait out the billowing clouds to the south.
The next morning was bright, beautiful, blue skies everywhere, wind dropped to a playful five or seven knots just light enough to keep the mosquitoes and flies off. The major oddity as I packed up the tent - no dew on the grass or ground.
The road down goes past Helena to Bozeman, and the river and chain of lakes follows it before splitting off to one side. I took both down until they split - and seeing the narrowness of the road passes versus the width of the river channel, I took the river.
Finally arrived Bozeman, picked up by an old friend, and given coffee. Miss Cinnamon is no longer a small bundle of fluff with long legs sticking out, but she's definitely shedding as much as she always has! Just about everything I own has been liberally coated in dog hair as she has expressed how happy she is to see me, get a walk from me, and can she lick my plate when I'm done?
Saturday, July 16, 2011
huh
Been away from the news for a few weeks, and it looks like I didn't miss a damn thing except a case of sour stomach over the idiocy in DC and the rest of the country's politics and courts.
Did it get that much worse that fast, or has being immersed in reality for a while, interacting with honest folks simply made the power-mad insanity seem that much crazier?
Did it get that much worse that fast, or has being immersed in reality for a while, interacting with honest folks simply made the power-mad insanity seem that much crazier?
Friday, July 15, 2011
Picture Post Anchorage to Whitehorse to Fort Nelson
In Bozeman now, doing laundry, resting up, loading pictures to Blogger and catching up. These pictures were a little out of order when I posted them, so the post is edited for the actual order now that I've had rest and coffee.
Setting out, I was more interested in dealing with the airplane than taking pictures, so there are none until Sheep Mountain.
The Gunny (and J of Call to Wings) flew escort to the border. The Gunny's plane is so much faster, he flew racetracks around me in order to fly with me.
Mentasta Pass. Wasn't fast enough on the camera to catch the two eagles circling in a thermal, and then I found the turbulence, so I was busy with yoke, throttle, mixture, and carb heat.
Weather was good until Mentasta Pass, and then it lowered again after Northway into Beaver Creek. I camped under-wing and stayed dry, but the ground was hard enough (and then loose enough when soaked) that the tent stakes slowly collapsed. Let's not even go into all the places one can be bitten by mosquitoes.
Burwash Landing was pretty, but I was more interested in refueling than taking pictures. After getting past the low rain right outside Beaver Creek, I was trying to make good time getting to Whitehorse. It was as well I did; in the last 25 miles, my radio decided to be cranky about not getting a charge the night before, and the transmit power started dropping fast well before the low-battery light flashed (and I could still hear them trying to talk to me). Fortunately, a Cessna relayed my answers until I got within 10 miles and around the last mountain. People are awesome, given half a chance.
Missed the fact that there's a pilot shelter on the Whitehorse airport, with a gazebo. So, I slept down in town at the Robert Service campgrounds, which are pretty well run. The next day, met up with a friend right before takeoff. His son went from scared of the airplane to upset when he was removed from the cockpit so I could go - always happy to delay to create another fan of aviation!
Out of Whitehorse, I put fuel in at Teslin, then went on to Watson Lake - great people there, and great pilots passing through and camping. I really should have gotten photos. Ah, well. Had a wonderful time with great people, and a blessedly dry and mosquito-free couch. Taking off was interesting - a rain front decided to start coming about the time I was doing a run-up. Busy with controls - no pictures until well clear.
Hell's Gate on the Rapids of the Drowned, lower part of the Grand Canyon of the Liard River.
Dodging storms and showers, found a rainbow on the way into Fort Nelson.
Setting out, I was more interested in dealing with the airplane than taking pictures, so there are none until Sheep Mountain.
The Gunny (and J of Call to Wings) flew escort to the border. The Gunny's plane is so much faster, he flew racetracks around me in order to fly with me.
Mentasta Pass. Wasn't fast enough on the camera to catch the two eagles circling in a thermal, and then I found the turbulence, so I was busy with yoke, throttle, mixture, and carb heat.
Weather was good until Mentasta Pass, and then it lowered again after Northway into Beaver Creek. I camped under-wing and stayed dry, but the ground was hard enough (and then loose enough when soaked) that the tent stakes slowly collapsed. Let's not even go into all the places one can be bitten by mosquitoes.
Burwash Landing was pretty, but I was more interested in refueling than taking pictures. After getting past the low rain right outside Beaver Creek, I was trying to make good time getting to Whitehorse. It was as well I did; in the last 25 miles, my radio decided to be cranky about not getting a charge the night before, and the transmit power started dropping fast well before the low-battery light flashed (and I could still hear them trying to talk to me). Fortunately, a Cessna relayed my answers until I got within 10 miles and around the last mountain. People are awesome, given half a chance.
Missed the fact that there's a pilot shelter on the Whitehorse airport, with a gazebo. So, I slept down in town at the Robert Service campgrounds, which are pretty well run. The next day, met up with a friend right before takeoff. His son went from scared of the airplane to upset when he was removed from the cockpit so I could go - always happy to delay to create another fan of aviation!
Out of Whitehorse, I put fuel in at Teslin, then went on to Watson Lake - great people there, and great pilots passing through and camping. I really should have gotten photos. Ah, well. Had a wonderful time with great people, and a blessedly dry and mosquito-free couch. Taking off was interesting - a rain front decided to start coming about the time I was doing a run-up. Busy with controls - no pictures until well clear.
Hell's Gate on the Rapids of the Drowned, lower part of the Grand Canyon of the Liard River.
Dodging storms and showers, found a rainbow on the way into Fort Nelson.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
In Red Deer
In Grande Prairie I met a wonderful retired couple flying their Maule down to Oshkosh from Anchorage, and we split a hotel room for the night. The next day, we waited on weather until noon, then took off as a flight of 2 to Whitecourt, then Red Deer beyond. As Bones said in Star Trek IV, "One little detail..." I can push my plane to cruise at a hundred, and they cruise at a hundred. But they meant knots, and I meant statute miles per hour.
Three and a half hours of slow flight (for them) and pushing the engine at the top of the green while trying to lean and save any possible bit of fuel (for me), we got to Red Deer. If we'd stopped in Whitecourt, I wouldn't have been at all worried about fuel, but then, we probably wouldn't have finished as a flight of two, either. We're both exhausted - them from the extra work of flying slow, me from the work of flying fast. So, splitting another hotel room, and in the morning they're headed for Saskatoon, I'm for Lethbridge.
One other minor detail; I forgot the charger for the radio in the plane. May delay a few hours while I charge it tomorrow. Oops. Too tired to really care right now.
Three and a half hours of slow flight (for them) and pushing the engine at the top of the green while trying to lean and save any possible bit of fuel (for me), we got to Red Deer. If we'd stopped in Whitecourt, I wouldn't have been at all worried about fuel, but then, we probably wouldn't have finished as a flight of two, either. We're both exhausted - them from the extra work of flying slow, me from the work of flying fast. So, splitting another hotel room, and in the morning they're headed for Saskatoon, I'm for Lethbridge.
One other minor detail; I forgot the charger for the radio in the plane. May delay a few hours while I charge it tomorrow. Oops. Too tired to really care right now.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Fort Saint John
Being weathered over for a day in Ft. St. John has been the longest time I've had to work at not feeling like chewing off my leg to escape a trap. The people are great, the FBO luxurious, and I... I'm not their kind of client. This place has exactly one tie down for a small aircraft, and I'm in it. They have a large asphalt pad for jets to pull in and out, and though the pilots have been unfailingly good, I still cringe inside every time a corporate or charter jet, including a 727, turn and sweep my little rag n' tube with their jetwash.
I may not be the only pilot yesterday without epaulets, but it was close. At least I fit in with the charter passengers, headed up to the oil patch (except they are all male). I feel a bit like the ugly duckling around the swans, foregoing the leather couches and tasteful rugs of the pilot's lounge for sitting on the floor playing with a five-month-old toy breed puppy.
That said, the rampers and receptionist have been awesome, ranging from amused and generous to apologetic for the "worst summer since 89". The pilots with their pressed uniforms and epaulets either ignore me or want to know all about my plane and trip with a grin in their hearts at the challenge.
Today's weather is forecast to be no better, but I'm hoping for a break. I would rather be camped under my wing off the side of a gravel strip, no showers and mosquitoes all around, than out of place in asphalt and luxury. Maybe it's just early curmudgeonliness, but after a two days of working at being cheerful, I don't want to deal with people for a while.
I may not be the only pilot yesterday without epaulets, but it was close. At least I fit in with the charter passengers, headed up to the oil patch (except they are all male). I feel a bit like the ugly duckling around the swans, foregoing the leather couches and tasteful rugs of the pilot's lounge for sitting on the floor playing with a five-month-old toy breed puppy.
That said, the rampers and receptionist have been awesome, ranging from amused and generous to apologetic for the "worst summer since 89". The pilots with their pressed uniforms and epaulets either ignore me or want to know all about my plane and trip with a grin in their hearts at the challenge.
Today's weather is forecast to be no better, but I'm hoping for a break. I would rather be camped under my wing off the side of a gravel strip, no showers and mosquitoes all around, than out of place in asphalt and luxury. Maybe it's just early curmudgeonliness, but after a two days of working at being cheerful, I don't want to deal with people for a while.
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