Downtown Pittsburgh



Downtown Pittsburgh from 1500'



Waynesburg-Greene County Airport (KWAY)

Looking east from 2500' (About 1400' above the ground)

I'm now the AOPA Airport Support Network volunteer for the Waynesburg Airport (KWAY).

From AOPA:

Pressure on public and privately owned airports continues to mount. This pressure takes many forms, including curfews, noise restrictions, lack of improvements, residential encroachment, and even calls to close the airport.

Often, the general aviation community is totally unaware of what's boiling in the pot concerning their airport—until it is too late to turn the tide. Knowing what's happening in the political environment surrounding a local airport is of the utmost importance if we are going to preserve our general aviation infrastructure into the foreseeable future. The more time available in which to counter negatives about a local airport, the higher the possibility for preserving the airport or avoiding restrictions.

The AOPA Airport Support Network provides the vehicle for AOPA members to work in concert with AOPA to establish that early warning system.

Another Gorgeous Saturday

Winter's paid us a few visits so far, but Saturdays have been exempt, lately.

It warmed up to near 50 under clear skies and light winds -- the calm before the storm, since we're to get blizzard conditions within 48 hours.

Such is December in Southwest Pennsylvania.

I headed to the airport early and found the airplane snug and warm after a night with blankets and a heater under the engine. I fueled up, preflighted,  pulled the airplane into the sun, tied down, primed, pulled the prop through, mags to hot -- started on first throw!

I taxied down to 27 even though winds were calm to give the engine time to warm. Took off, overflew the airport, and headed east.

The air was a bit hazy so I used carb heat from time to time, but engine was running strong and we were crusing along at 80 MPH.

I texted Janet, told her "5 minutes" and she was waiting for me outside in front of the garage. I did a few low passes over the house -- sure was fun! I had to dodge the hill behind the house and didn't want to stick around too long lest a local get upset.

I wish Janet could have come along this morning -- it was smooth as glass and I didn't have to climb too high. Most of the time it was like looking out from a balcony in a tall apartment building.

Westbound about 500' above the ground

Flying along the valley in front of the house

The view from 500' Above the Ground.

Lots of rolling hills with remnants of snow. The black line is the prop as captured by the camera (it's turning about 38 times a second here)

Greene County, Pennsylvania

Back in the hangar

I headed Northeast, skimmed over Route 51, then flew towards Connellsville.

The river looked cold below with ice floes visible from above. I did some nap of the earth flying over some more remote areas then headed generally Southwest.

An hour and fifteen minutes today -- until next time!

First Winter Flight

Friday I checked the weather a few times and it looked like there would be a hole Saturday morning (the past week has been non-stop cold, gray, and light snow).

I stopped by the hangar Friday evening after work and hooked up the engine pre-heater (two 100w bulbs in trouble lights, two moving blankets, a carpet remnant, and an old army duffel bag wrapped around the cowling with a rope tied off on the prop). I give the bird a pat, take one last look, then turn off the lights and close the big sliding metal hangar door. The lock is cold as I jam it shut and twist the combination dial. I should replace this -- it's going to get water inside and freeze and then I'll be stuck. Note to self -- buy new lock.

I woke early Saturday and looked outside. While the sky was completely overcast, the haze beneath wasn't too bad. a check of the local METARS shows generally decent conditions with lowest reported visibility of 4 miles.

Janet has an all-day event at church today so I leave after she does and drive the truck to Waynesburg. The visibility is variable but VFR all the way. Of course, the airport is sitting in the thickest soup I've seen so far. Oh well -- it will clear.

Of course, the combo lock is frozen. I let the heat from my hands seep into the lock. Make another note -- get new lock.

I push the hangar doors open and light streams in the darkness. The bulbs are still on. I reach underneath the blanket expecting warmth but instead find cold aluminum. Ugh.

I go through my usual pre-flight steps, pull the airplane out into the diffused sunshine which doesn't seem to be coming from anywhere in particular but is slightly brighter than during the drive to the airport. Maybe the layer above is thinner than forecast? Yet there is no blue -- only white in the sky.

I close the doors, tie the tailspring to the truck's tow ring, place chocks in front of the mains, and look around to make sure I haven't forgotten anything.

It's cold, so I leave my hat and jacket on. 4 shots of prime, mags to OFF. Walk around front, push blades through 14 or so times. Walk back, mags ON, walk back, throw -- nothing.

There's are moments during some hand props when you wonder "Should I turn the mags off or move this into position by hand?"

I opt for the move with care. Throw the prop -- nothing.

OK....

Back to the cabin, mags off, another two shots of prime, 4 blades through.

Mags ON, walk back front, throw -- chug, chug.

A satisfying sound, but no guarantee. It's cold out and plugs that fire can get frosted over. I run to the cabin and push the throttle in a bit -- the engine stumbles, then coughs, more cylinders fire.

I ease the throttle in, then back out and the engine settles into its cold routine of heavy chugging at 800 RPM. It's OK -- the light bulbs haven't provided much heat and it's probably 25 degrees out. I stand next to the cabin and my legs freeze in the prop blast. I pull the throttle to idle and it settles at 500 RPM. The tail spring rope untied, I walk back up and reach for the chocks, connected by a 10' rope so I can pull both front mains from the pilots side. I saw someone else do it -- It works!

I'm planning a local flight so the chocks get tossed on the snow-coated grass.

I climb in and bump the throttle to 800 RPM and listen as the engine warms, chugging more regularly, evenly. Good.

I sit and listen to the engine, looking at the gauges. All is well, and now I can relax and enjoy it. All the preparation, planning, and work is done. The airplane is running, everything's been checked -- all that's left is to roll down the taxiway, then the runway, then plunge into the sky.


A blast of power and the airplane moves, the tail wheel straightens, and I check to either side for clearance. A few maneuvers to avoid puddles (I was by an A&P that water splashed up inside a wheel can freeze and lock it in place in the air -- making for a very interesting landing).

The air is a bit less hazy now and the sky seems brighter. Winds are minimal -- the wind sock moves inches, the flag hangs limp. I can takeoff either direction but will taxi to the end of 27 to give the engine more time to warm.

Control checks, trim set -- good. Killdeer walk along the runway -- why are they always on the runway? I taxi into position, straighten the tail wheel, and add power. The birds start to walk quickly to the south side of the runway. But not fast enough. I continue adding power and now the tail comes up. Killdeer fill the bottom of the windscreen -- com'on, birds.... this airplane may be small but that propeller is gonna hurt!

The birds take flight when I'm about 30' away. I feel the wings catching and the airplane is about to take flight as well. The prop bites into the cold air and the airplane is ready to fly. I hold it on a moment more, then release some back pressure. Rolling, rolling, then no sound from the wheels.

We're flying. Birds below now. Oil pressure still good, 2300 RPM -- OK. Pull back a bit and climb at 50, add some trim. I look to the right and pick out a spot to land if I lose power now. To the left and ahead is a parking lot studded with light poles and cars -- only if I have to. Still climbing, I glance at the airspeed and altimeter -- up to 300 feet now. I start a climbing left turn. hold the ball perfectly centered, feel the engine warming, RPM increasing.

Now the airport is under my left wing and the air is hazy, but smooth. I level off about 800 feet above the ground and announce a closed pattern, fly over the field, check all the gauges -- all is good.

Time to head east and fly over the house.

I climb to 2500' (1200' or so above the ground) and clear the river and the fog. Level the airspeed exceeds 80 MPH at 2500 RPM. Nice.

I pull on the carb heat from time to time -- it's an automatic precaution on these hazy days. Carb heat applied RPM drops slightly -- good. Off and RM increases -- good.

I have some fun flying low over New Salem and the house and a few familiar hills. I climb a bit then circle over Uniontown. I'd fly further east but the mountain is barely visible in the haze. I decide to fly along the new highway and reduce power and push the nose over, enjoying the lightness of zero g.
A few hunters are visible from here -- please don't take potshots at my airplane. I'm low enough one could reach.

I zoom over the highway and enjoy the sensation of speed low-level flight. The air is thick with haze, and I keep a close eye on the RPM. So far no carb ice -- good.

I'd fly longer but the cabin heat isn't working very well so I point the airplane along a mostly west until I see familiar landmarks. The water tower near the airport appears and soon I'll be landing. I delay things a bit by climbing and doing some slow flight, then steep turns, then a practice emergency turn back.

300' altitude loss from engine idle to 180 degree change of direction. Of course a turn-back requires more than 180 degrees and there is residual thrust in the idling prop. There is also no recognition delay. But it's fun to push the nose over from climb to glide at 60 while cranking in 60 degrees of bank.

Time for some slow flight fun -- throttle back to 2000 RPM, crank in some trim, and let the airplane settle in at 60 MPH. The engine purrs and it seems the airplane is happier at this speed. Maybe I should do this more often?

55 minutes have passed. It's time to land. I fly south of the field, then do a hard 180 to join mid-field left downwind. I'm at 500' above the ground, but 1000' AGL is to high and there's no one else flying. Touchdown point 45 degrees behind me, throttle to 1500 RPM, slow to 60, crank in full trim, turn left. Slip some and pull throttle to idle. There's the runway. I'll land 1/3rd down to save the endless taxiing. I crank in enough trim to maintain 55 and then pull back to keep it at 50. The ground comes up slowly and soon the wheels touch, all three nearly simultaneously, the tailwheel rumbling on the pavement. I prefer grass but it is frosted this morning.

I taxi to the hangar, shut down, pull the airplane back into the hangar, wipe off the oil, and lock up until next time.

Neat!

I was doing some research on Tommy Smith this afternoon when I came across this link: http://www.flyinghigher.net/aeronca/N24286.html

The pictures should be familiar -- it's N24286 in the big hangar at the Clarion Airport!

November Morning

Yesterday was the first test flight beyond the pattern in the Chief since the extensive maintenance done during the annual inspection this November. The forecast promised light winds and mostly clear skies with a low of 32 and a high of 48. I stopped by the hangar on the way home from work Tuesday evening and set up the 100w pre-heater, prepared the cabin, and made sure everything was ready to roll Wednesday morning.

Wednesday dawned as promised, but with some local fog and widespread cloud cover. I figured it was the typical November grey and would not interfere with the flight. The airport was clear enough and the windsock was hanging limp so the forecast was close. It took a few minutes to pull the airplane out, preflight, tie it down, and prime it, and the cold engine took a few tries before chugging to life. I saved myself some work by tying the tail to the truck’s frame. Once it was putt-putting smoothly I pushed the hangar doors closed (no easy task), locked up, untied, pulled chocks, and climbed in.

Control check, radio check, trim set, doors checked on the slow taxi down to the east end of the runway. Winds are calm but a 27 departure offers a few more emergency landing options immediately after takeoff.

Run up is fine, mags check, idle good – announce intentions on the radio, pull out into the pavement, and add power.

The tail came up quickly and the airplane was light on its feet in a couple of hundred feet. Airborne at 40, speed increases to 50. The ground falls away and the four cylinders provide a steady roar. RPM is climbing from 2200 to 2300 as the propeller unloads. I probably could have waited a bit longer for the engine to warm, but so far, so good.

Announce left closed traffic, turn and climb into the left downwind, check RPM, oil pressure, and level speed – all good. Announce leaving the pattern southbound, starts a shallow bank right and maintain a steady climb.

The air is heavy with a fine haze under a solid layer of cloud. I tune the radio to the Morgantown AWOS:  ceiling 2800 feet, winds calm. No problem – I won't be more than 1000 AGL. The terrain straight ahead and to the west is rather featureless – a series of hills and valleys with no discernable pattern. It’s hard to know what road or what tiny hamlet is below, so I look for the Morgantown and Shinnstown powerplant plumes.

If I keep Morgantown off the left wing and Shinnstown ahead and to the right a bit I’ll be on course. I check the compass from time to time and nudge it back to a heading of 190 degrees. I keep the radio on set to 121.15 and listen to Clarksburg Approach. It’s quiet.

From time to time I pull the carb heat on. RPM drops. I leave it on a minute then turn it off – RPM increases. Good, no ice, and the carb heat box was properly installed.

Time passes slowly and every little change in sound gets my attention. Yet the engine is running steady and the airspeed indicator is solid at 85 MPH at 2500 RPM. I’ve seen 85 from time to time but not usually solo in level flight. Nice! The scent of warmed paint and cooked oil wafts into the cabin. I push the heater in but all that happens is a flood of cold air. I know the engine is warm – hmmm. I’ll have to check that.

I check my cell phone. A text from Dave, my ride from the airport: “U inbound?” I reply, “Yep. 0818 arrival”

I take the time to look around. It’s hard to see much in the haze. It’s VFR and visibility is at least seven miles, but the early morning light is diffused and the grey sky gives everything a flat appearance.

Soon I can make out the outline of a lake, then houses – Fairmont should be straight ahead. There’s the river – and the interstate. I switch to 122.8, listen, then announce 5 miles out.

I can’t make out the airport yet but know where I am in relation to it. Soon I see the bend in the river and the long stretch of pavement. I don’t hear anyone on the radio and see no activity on or near the field. Winds are calm so I head straight in, reducing power, lifting the nose, cranking up the trim -- feeling and hearing the airplane change its gait from cruise to descent.

The ground slowly grows; the numbers on the runway remain centered in the windscreen as the world spreads out from those ever-expanding numbers. It’s an optical trick that is useful – the spot that doesn’t move is where you’re heading.

Check speed – 60 MPH. The river slips below me. Now the runway is made – if I lose power I’ll still make it to the airport. Power to idle; pull back a bit on the yoke: 50 MPH. I crank full nose up trim but that only maintains pitch to just below 60 – I try to keep a calibrated pull back on the yoke. The numbers flash beneath the wheels, and now the sensation of speed as the pavement slips beneath. Hold it off, hold it off, keep it straight while dozens of feet slip underneath. 50 MPH is probably too fast – I’ll have to try 45 next time.

There’s a slight rumble in the back yet I don’t feel the mains yet  -- then the mains touch. Keep it straight, no brakes, back pressure, ok -- good. The oleo gear gives the impression that the airplane is still flying when in fact the wheels are rolling, but there’s still a half of foot of travel downward as the pistons compress. I’ve been landing on grass all summer so the sounds and sensations of a pavement landing are noisy and foreign.

Release back pressure and let the airplane roll freely along the runway the remaining thousand feet to the parking spot. I pull the plane in to a tie-down marked with new ropes, switch off fuel, run up to 1500 RPM, get straight, pull back to 1000, the engine coughs, dies. Mags and radio off, unbuckle, unload, tie down, and walk over to the car.

“Good morning, Dave!”

“Hey, Dan…”

I check my watch – 0818.

Sometimes I guess well.

Chief ad from 1940

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Yay!!!

FINALLY!!!



I took the morning off. Stopped by the airport last night after work and stayed until 1900. Put the wing root fairings back in, cleaned out the interior, and did a pre-flight check of everything else.

This morning arrived at 0830. John and I pulled it out on the ramp where we ran through the static tests -- everything ran as expected.

Put the cowling back on, bought 7.5 gallons of 100LL, and did another pre-flight.

Started up again (first throw with no prime -- before I had to prime every time) and taxied down to the end of 27. I had the airport to myself since it was a bit rainy with variable ceilings. It was VFR here now, though, so I did a radio check with Jim (the airport manager) and all was loud and clear (good -- I put the antenna back in correctly!)

Centerline, tailwheel straight, full power, oil pressure good, tail up, the earth falling away...

Nice.

I flew the pattern a few times, tried different power settings, hit 85 straight and level at 2500 RPM -- nice!

It was a bit bumpy 1000' AGL and the sky was dark to the south so I decided to land. Did one low pass then came around for the full stop. Nice touchdown and soon I was shut down in front of my hangar again -- it's been 5 weeks since I've been here!

Pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/danmc61/N242862010Annual02

N24286 2010 Annual

Annual Completed!!

We will startup the engine after work and check everything. Should be able to move it to the hangar tonight!

A&P/ IA Accomplished

• Remove and inspect prop, replace prop retaining bolts with AN-55 bolts IAW Lycoming O-145-B2 Maintenance Manual. Compression test (70-71 over 80 for each cylinder). Replaced pivot bolt left aileron hinge. Replaced induction tube connecting hoses. Replaced windscreen with LP Aero windshield.

Owner Performed Preventative Maintenance

• Open boot cowling and clean. Remove venturi and clean.
• Remove floorboards and clean and vacuum interior.
• Remove glue and old carpet residue from floorboards.
• Remove and replace all inspection covers and paint.
• Remove all cowling pieces, strip old paint, prime, sand, and repaint Biscuit White
• Refinish pilot and co-pilot yokes, panel and structural tubing in flat black.
• Remove wing root panels to strip old paint, prime, sand, and repaint Biscuit White.
• Inspect and replace missing screws on wing root-mounted handheld radio antenna.
• Replace all exterior screws with aircraft-grade stainless steel screws.
• Remove surface corrosion on engine with wire brush, repaint engine with Randolph Engineering Lycoming Grey engine enamel (P/N    ).
• Remove and replace door gap insulation and hinge pins.
• Refinish aluminum windscreen retention strips.
• Remove corrosion from gas cap retention fingers, replace wire with 9” dualuminum (IAW Aeronca factory drawing     ), and refinish cork with varnish
• Removed and cleaned and repainted carburetor and cabin heat boxes with high temperature gloss black paint, replaced missing screws.
• Spark plugs cleaned, reinstalled
• All SCAT tubes removed, cleaned, reinstalled.
• Added original Aeronca logo decal on each side of vertical stab
• Oil cap and dipstick painted yellow.
• Firewall painted Lycoming gray.
• Induction tubes cleaned, repainted with black high heat enamel.
• All control pulleys lubricated.

Windshield is in!!

I stopped by the hangar on the way home and noticed the windshield is in! John and Darious worked it today and it looks good, but still has protective plastic on it, so won't see througg it until Saturday (I hope!)

Exhaust parts all cleaned and heat boxes re-secured and painted with high temp black.

I'm heading in tomorrow at 8 AM -- hopefully...?

Finally!

LP Aero called to say windshield is done! Pick up on Monday!

Plan this week:

• Assist in Windshield installation, steam marine plywood backing to shape, drop off cowling, install doors using new hinge pins, install intake tubes, check plug and head torque
• Install venturi, Install anti-chafing tape, install cowling, install propeller & spinner, glue headliner
• Set up radio and battery cabling
• Refasten headliner
• Check plug torque
• Check head bolt torque
• Mount propeller
• Install anti-chafe tape
• Mount cowling 
• Install Wing root fairings
• Vacuum carpet, interior
• Mount battery wires
• Aeronca Decals
• Lube primer, heat, carb heat, throttle controls 
• Tailwheel lube

Still waiting...

Still no update on the replacement windshield from LP Aero.

Grrr....

Nearly Complete!

Yesterday afternoon (I took a day off to take care of a dental appointment and some other personal business in the morning) I spent 5 hours in the maintenance hangar putting N24286 back together again. Every inspection plate (new and freshly painted to match) was replaced, the wing root strips (freshly painted) were put back in using stainless steel screws, and I took the time to hook up the handheld antenna a bit better (locknuts and washers). The antenna is solid and the top nut area is protected from moisture with a coating of RTV sealent.

The rudder assembly cover gave me some problems (it's not clear which way is up), but it's back on.

All accessible pulleys and cables were lubricated with LPS-2.

I put the fuel gauge assembly back on (the cap repainted, a new length of duraluminum 1/8" gauge wire, and a re-varnished cork bobber).

I put the floorboards back in with new screws (after one final clean up of the exposed fabric). The carpet cut out fit perfectly and lays nicely without moving. The carpet runs up and overlaps the seat fabric, helping seal out anything from sliding under the seat and back towards the tail.

The Sporty's Handheld radio was given a new strip of velcro and so was the mounting plate. It's straight and secure.

I finished painting the few spots I missed in the engine compartment. I checked the fit and look of the nosebowl -- it looks good. I found the right size screws to replace the rusty ones that were in there.

John tried to put the induction tubes back on but the hose collars were too short. New ones are on order.

I was going to put the anti-chafing seal on but we dedcided to remove the Venturi and clean it and see if we can get the bank indicator working. We'll see.

The skull-cap spinner looks good -- all corrosion removed and it looks nice and shiny. Not mirror-smooth since I'm not that patient.

I found replacement nails to use as door hinges. I may try the thin steel wire I tried as a fuel gauge replacement.

So far so good -- pictures to come once the windshield is in and the induction hoses installed.

Good News!

Full inspection of the airplane revealed no other issues -- some afternoon or this Saturday morning I can put all the covers back on, put in the new stainless screws, and snap on the refinished cowling!

The propeller looks great in matte black with white tips and a single 1" stripe. The spinner has been polished and is in fairly good shape -- though I'll look for a replacement.

The interior is looking very nice, the engine looks almost new, the new induction tubes will go on tomorrow (the old ones were dried out and probably leaking), and all the control pulleys have been lubed.

Progress!

I spent most of today painting, painting, and painting!

The engine is finished and is looking very good. The firewall is nearly finished but will require a long-handled brush to finish.

Cylinders and engine block painted Lycoming Gray

All inspection covers, wing root covers, cowling, and interior tubes have been repainted and look very good.

Interior tubes painted flat black

Rear view of engine

The cowling was in terrible shape before, it's not perfect, but it's better now.
The aileron hinge bolt was replaced (was bent), all control pulleys lubed with A/C lubricant.
The propeller was refinished in flat black with white tips in accordance with Sensenich guidance and AC 20-37E.
The windscreen should be formed early this week. Hopefully we can install it, get all the old screws replaced, and get the bird signed off and flying by next weekend!

Still Working...

We drove out to Lancaster County this weekend and spent Saturday at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire. It was well worth the trip -- we had a good time, the weather was perfect, and the shows and site were top notch.
We returned home Sunday morning and after lunch and some Steeler game I set to work on the cowling and induction tubes. The tubes were sanded and refurbished inside and outside and are now sprayed with gloss black high heat paint -- they look great!
I continued working on the upper and lower cowling. Sand, sand sand, remove dust, spray with filler primer. Repeat. It's a tedious process but I think I'll sand out the few remaining pits and flaws and wrap up the priming. Hopefully it will warm up again and I can spray the primed and prepped peices with Appliance Biscuit White and see how it looks.
I still have to complete the stripping of the cowling nose and side pieces. I'll try to get that done tomorrow night.

This afternoon after work I'll head straight to the airport and concentrate on repainting the engine. I'll use Lycoming gray on most and gloss black high heat spray on the cylinders. It should look much, much better!

Tasks To Do

My to do list for the Chief during this year's annual inspection:

• Open boot cowling and clean inside
• Remove floorboards and clean
• Vacuum interior
• Remove glue and old carpet residue from floorboards
• Cut floor covering to fit over floorboards (temporary installation – not fastened to airplane)
• Remove and replace all inspection covers and paint
• Remove cowling (5 pieces), strip old paint, reform, prime, fill, sand, repaint
• Remove and replace windscreen
• Refinish interior (pilot and co-pilot yokes, panel, structural tubing) in flat black
• Remove and inspect prop
• Replace prop retaining bolts
• Refinish wing root panels (sand, prime, paint)
• Reconnect wing root-mounted handheld radio antenna
• Replace all screws with stainless steel screws
• Compression test (70-71 over 80 for each cylinder)
• Clean engine compartment
• Wire brush corrosion on engine
• Repaint engine with Lycoming grey engine enamel
• Remove doors and replace door hinge pins
• Refinish aluminum windscreen retention strips
• Replace wood windshield retention strips
• Remove corrosion from gas cap retention fingers, replace wire, refinish cork with several coats of varnish
• Fix left aileron hinge and replace pivot bolt
• Re-run handheld radio battery and antenna wires
• Replace Velcro mounting for handheld radio

1940 Chief Maintenance

N24286 Ready for inspection

Underneath the floorboards. all clean and grime free!

Ugly Cylinders and fins -- All wire-brushed and ready for Lycoming Grey paint.

Nose piece on the Garage floor ready for stripping

Lower cowling -- looks like it was in a hail storm

First Annual

I pulled all the inspection covers, the cowling, and everything else I could off the Chief the last few days. This afternoon John called and said his hangar was open for my airplane (John is the local A&P on the field at Waynesburg).

Once we got it all set up he decided to do compression check first to see how this old engine was holding up.

I watched as each of four cylinders read 70 or 71 out of 80.

Not bad for a 70-year-old engine rebuilt in 1979!

Fall Fly In

This Saturday I flew the Chief about 90 miles southwest to a Pilots of America fly in at the Windwood Fly In Resort near Davis, WV, in the Canaan Valley.

I was only there a couple of hours but a gorgeous location on a perfect day.

I couldn't take off until after 0915 as The Greene County Airport near Waynesburg was fogged in. I arrived at the airport at 8 AM, and tinkered and prepared the airplane and walked the taxiways until the fog lifted. ON the eastern edge of the airport property some folks were setting up for an event. They were well off the aviating parts so they were no problem.

I propped the Chief, checked everything, pulled up my stakes and chcoks, loaded up, and hopped in. The motor was putt-puttting smoothly and all was well. I taxied to the end of Runway 27. The valley to the north was still filled with fog but straight ahead and left all was clear. I added power and soon was climbing smoothly in the cool, still air.

There was not a single cloud in the sky and the fog was patchy along a few rivers and streams. It was an absolutely perfect morning and I was glad I had the time and this opportunity to fly on such a day. I continued climbing to 3500' and leveled off, letting the engine cool after the long climb. The ridges to the east slowly grew in the windscreen as I flew east at 75-80 MPH. Winds aloft were light and variable, so my groundspeed matched my airspeed closely.

I called Morgantown Tower and let him know I was overflying the field. The frequency was quiet as Morgantown was covered in fog, while immediately west and south it was clear and fog-free.Some valleys ahead were still filled with fog, and I kept a tight watch on time and fuel used so I could turn back if I ended up over widespread fog.

The ridges were higher east, so I climbed to 4,00 feet -- high above where this little airplane is meant to fly. The engine ran strong and all sounded well despite the thinner air, and I pushed on eastward. Ahead I could see windmills along the ridge on a heading of 155 or so -- right where I expected to see them. 

I was flying pure pilotage -- following waypoints on the ground -- so once I spotted the Windmills  I turned right up the valley and experienced some rotor turbulence off the mills and ridge -- wow!

There's one more smaller ridge before WV62, though, and after a few minutes of terrain associating figured it out and skimmed over the last ridge. In front of me lay the valley and the ski resort on the west face of the next ridge. I couldn't make out the airport so flew south until I was nearly on top of it.

I entered a left downwind and tried landing on runway 24 but wasn't happy with the airspeed once I cleared the trees so I flew about 20' off the ground and then climbed and went around for a landing on runway 6.

The result was the worst landing of the year with a bit of bounce quickly dampened with lots of up elevator.

Folks were at the tie down area so I met some and more came down to meet us. Everyone had questions about the old bird and seemed impressed by the Art Deco panel. It was nice to meet everyone and get a ride in Tim's Miata up to the lodge. We talked on the deck for a while and enjoyed the sunshine.

About noon the wind started picking up so I decided to head back before it got too rough. Takeoff was not optimal but a 70 degree crosswind on the narrow runway made it interesting. I lifted off and headed towards the left to avoid the trees on the 24 end of the runway. It was a rough ride climbing northeast along the valley but soon I reached 4000' and had enough altitude to clear the ridge.

It was pretty bumpy coming back from local winds and thermals -- it;s always this way mid-afternoon and clear days. I tried to enjoy the view and even took a few pictures but most of my time was spent keeping wings level and airspeed and attitude.

In the distance I spotted the tiny plume from the Morgantown powerplant and headed that way.

Bounce, bounce, bounce across the ridges with the engine running a bit rich at near service ceiling (no mixture in the airplane and it's really not meant to fly more than 5k). I reached the final ridge and descended over Cheat Lake and called MGW tower to let them know I'd be just outside the Delta airspace. A drama ensued as a Seneca called in with intermittent engine power on the right side. He was cleared straight in for 18 but I never saw him. I listened as long as I could then switched to the Waynesburg airport frequency.

My landing in the grass next to runway 27 made up for the lousy landing at WV62. Oh well.

Windwood Resort is a beautiful venue and seems like the perfect place for a Fly In -- especially in fall! While the leaves haven't peaked it's still that time, and the view from above is priceless.

I heartily recommend more attend next year!. I'll be there!

September Morning

After a few weeks of little flight time, I was able to spend some quality time in the air this morning!

The forecast was spot-on: lots of local fog that lingered past 9 AM. I arrived at the airport at 7:30, cleaned and lubed control hinges, refilled the fuel tank, then taxied over to Strope Aircraft Maintenance where we torqued down the spark plugs to 27 Ft/lbs and replaced all the old inspection access plates with brand new ones.

Once the fog lifted I started up and head to the end of runway 27. A quick runup and soon the tail was up and I was lifting off the pavement. The airplane climbed well in the cool, smooth air and the new spark plugs helped wring full power out of the fuel.

It was an absolutely perfect September morning with clear, dry air dominating the region. I felt like I could point the nose in any direction and fly until the fuel ran low. Alas I had to be back home by 1130, so I turned northeast and flew towards the Pittsburgh Renaissance Faire grounds to do some fly overs before the gates opened.

I crossed the Monongahela just north of California, then turned east to follow I-70.  I stayed even with eastbound traffic at 2400 RPM and 80 MPH indicated airspeed. Winds were light from the south and only affected my track slightly. I spotted the Route 31 exit and throttled back to descend over the fair. I was low enough to see everyone outside waving and did a few passes before climbing northbound.

I entered the busy pattern at Rostraver and landed on the grass, taxied back, and took off from the pavement. Winds were light from the south but causing some bumps down very low. I followed the river, then a heading until in sight of the water tower just south of Greene County airport. I entered a left downwind, eased the power to 1500, trimemd for 60, and started a nice long turning slip for the grass south of runway 27. POwer to idle, slip it hard until past the last few trees, straighten it out, hold it off, off, float, then the gentlest of touchdowns on all three wheels.


It was a great but fast 1.5 hours in the air. I wiped off the trace of oil from the cowling, unplug the radio battery, close up shop, and head home.

Changing the Oil

It's been a very stressful, tiring week at work with days stretching to night. I wanted to fly some this week but the mornings have been foggy and the afternoons over 90F.


I thought last night would be the night to throw the prop and putt around the sky a bit. But by the time I got to the airport it was 6:40 PM, 88 F, and I was just plain tired. I didn't need the IMSAFE checklist to know when I shouldn't fly so on the ground I stayed.

But I'm already here so...

The hangar door slid open, the light streamed in, and the cowling came off. I refilled the fuel tank with 5 gallons of premium. After that, I only intended to clean the engine compartment but since I took the cowling off I should change the oil. Snip the safety wire, loosen the drain pug, watch the oil flow down into the plastic bin. Sure, I should have warmed the engine up to operating temps, but it was 95 F here today and the oil is flowing like water. Good enough.

Replace the plug, tighten, reapply safety wire (I'm getting better -- I did miles of .032 and .020 safety wiring from 1980 to 1983 in the Air Force, but it's been awhile). I poured in Aeroshell 80W (3.5 quarts and .25 quart of Camguard) and watched for leaks. All good (there is no filter in this airplane).

I wiped down the entire engine and compartment, carefully checking for problems. I cleaned the inside of the cowling, put everything back on, wiped it down, and gave the wings and windshield and clean up.

A quick straightening up of the hangar and then close up and head home.

We don't always have to fly our airplanes -- sometimes it's good to just be around them.

Perfect Morning Flight

Last Saturday I flew for 1:15 in the smooth, cool, clear air, low and slow over the late-summer greens and browns of Southwestern Pennsylvania. Fog covered the rivers like tubes of cotton, but everywhere else the air was Rocky Mountain clear, dry, and cool.

It helps to fly before 9 AM -- usually the sky is empty, the air is smooth, and the birds and insects haven't climbed up to my cruising altitude of 500' above the trees. I flew over familiar ground, and planned on flying over the ridge when I checked the time and realized I had a 0900 appointment with my mechanic back at KWAY. So I  reduced power, dropped the nose, and pointed west.

I had to climb a bit to clear the water tower south of the field, entered base then final, and decided a fly-by would be more fun than landing. I waved to John, enjoyed the rare sensation of speed, and entered a zooming left turn to downwind.

The landing was smooth as warm butter on the hard, dry grass, and I wished I could go around anothe time, but maintenance was waiting and so a short taxi ended the day's fun.

Hazy, hot, and humid

Summer's officially arrived in Southwestern PA! After a nice long stretch of perfect summer weather (high in the low 80s, low humidity, down to 50 overnight), we've been launched into the sauna.

I flew a short aerial photography mission this morning -- by the time I launched (730 AM) it was 75 and visibility was maybe 5 miles. There was no wind and the skies were clear of traffic, though, so I flew direct to the property and took some nice shots.

It was no problem to find as I had reviewed the route and the location in Google Earth and Bing last night.A heading of 63 degrees took me right to it and the time to target was within 30 seconds.

The property is on the edge of a bluff that sweeps down to a more remote stretch of the Youghigheny. We've canoed this part a few times and always enjoy the solitude.

I flew a few orbits and snapped some pictures from different directions, then headed southwest to fly over the house and wake my daughter and son-in-law who were visiting this weekend.

I maintained a nice low altitude and 75 MPH at 2300 RPM and enjoyed the waking day. Soon I had Waynesburg spotted. I did a 180, entered the pattern, and touched down very gently on the grass. It was one of those flights that I wished wouldn't end, but it was quickly warming up and I needed to get home to say goodbye before Melissa and Tony left.

A quick wipe down, drive home, add 1.0 to the logbook and email the photos.

Long Week

This cold lingered nearly a week. That plus morning fog squashed my plans for commuting flights this week. The weather should improve this weekend so I should get some time aloft.

One Hour

I planned on flying to Greenville, PA and back today (annual check-up) but I felt a cold coming on last night.

I felt better this morning so I drove to the airport, pulled out the airplane, preflighted, started (one throw after 4 shots of prime and 6 cycles of the prop), and took off. Air was smooth, winds were calm at the surface but strong out of the Southeast 1000' AGL.

After 30 minutes of flying I was over Rostraver Airport (KFWQ) and decided to turn around -- I just didn't feel like flying much today.

I descended a bit and followed to Monongahela River a bit, then shot cross country towards Waynesburg. The airport was desolate so I overflew the field over 27 to check winds. Winds at 500' were now directly east so I did a 180 and landed gently on the grass along Runway 9.

The engine sounded fine and ran well with the normal tiny bit of oil dribbling beneath the cowling.

I put the airplane away and headed home where I'll rest a bit.

I must be pretty sick to cut a flight short.

At least I re-established confidence in the airplane's powerplant, though.

Recovery

Flew the Chief home from Fairmont this afternoon after work. Installed the cowling after giving everything a thorough close inspection. Had to wait for an old straight tail 182 to get pulled out and fueld up.

It was a bit warm and winds were light and variable from everywhere. I put 3.5 gallons of 100LL in, set up the airplane for start, and Chris the local A&P gave me a prop. She started on first throw.


I taxied to the end of 23 to give the engine a little more idle time before I applied full power. Runup seemed fine, though RPM bounced a bit -- too much lead.

Takeoff was good -- though climb was a bit anemic on this warm day. I turned right and followed the river as I climbed at 60. So far so good.

I leveled off at 2500' and set power to 2400 RPM. I listened very carefully for any telltale sign of problems. I'll admit to being a bit paranoid now. I wasn't feeling so hot (allergies?) either, so set a direct heading of 10 degrees for KWAY.

The airplane performed fine -- 75-80 MPH at 2450 RPM at 2500' MSL.

I landed very gracefully in the grass on 27, placing the airplane within 10' of where I aimed while on downwind. I shoved the carb heat back in and taxied to the hangar.

It will take a couple more flights before my confidence in this powerplant is fully restored. I'm looking forward to the top overahul this winter, though, just to have confidence that everything's been checked and re-sealed.

Canoe trip post

Trip report -- and pictures -- here: http://susquehannabycanoe.blogspot.com/

Average Speed: 3 Knots

This weekend we'll do some low-tech travel. We're planning on paddling from Keating to Lock Haven on the West Branch of the Susquehanna in our Wenonah canoe.

Weather forecast looks ideal, water level is a bit over 4' at the Karthaus gauge, and I've checked and re-checked our packing list.

Trip report here

Lessons from an Antique

I finally reached 50 hours in the Chief and had some time to think about what I’ve learned so far. Here, in no particular order, is an incomplete list:

• Oil changes are easy and non-messy, now that I’ve figured out exactly where to put the catch bucket, and to cover the bucket with a paper towel just in case the oil-covered drain plug slips out of my fingers (don’t ask me how I learned that). I’ve also revived my long-dormant safety-wiring skills.
• Preflight in a seventy year-old, fabric covered airplane takes on a whole new meaning. First of all, no one else flies it – so if I don’t spot a problem, no one else will. Also, the mix of dissimilar materials means feeling and listening take on a whole new meaning – it’s important to thump the fabric and feel the underside and smell the engine compartment – you can’t always see trouble, but you might hear it or smell it or feel it.
• There’s a distinct odor of fabric, gas, oil, dirt, and old grass that will signal trouble if it changes.
• You learn to judge flying wire tension by sound – they’ll make a certain pitch twang when struck with an index finger. Any change in that tone spells trouble. Reach and try to move each tail wire mounting bracket – if it moves, also trouble – lose a wire brace, lose the elevator.
• Safety is enhanced by a regular sequence of actions. For example, when hand propping, I follow the exact same routine: Check fuel on, mags off, put gloves on, place chocks in front of both mains, secure tailwheel with stake and rope, check mags off, prime 4 times, walk to front, check airplane can’t move forward, cycle prop through 6 times, walk around strut, check fuel on mags on primer in throttle in ½”, walk to front, throw prop – if starts, walk around strut, sit inside while engine warms at 800-1000RPM, watch oil pressure and temp, once warm, reduce to idle (5-600 RPM), walk to back, loosen tail wheel restraint, walk front, hold onto strut while pulling long rope on chocks to remove from mains, climb aboard, RPM back to 900 or so…
• A regular pattern helps me stay on task, and when I notice that things are out of order, I stop and think – always a good thing when dealing with a swinging meat cleaver.
• A lightweight tailwheel airplane is really easy to maneuver back into the hangar once you figure out that a rope around the tailspring will let you pull the airplane exactly where you want it to go.
• GE Double Life 100w light bulbs and mechanics trouble lamp is the cheapest engine pre-heater going. Stack up U-Haul moving blankets on the engine cowling, stuff cut up foam mat in the openings, and the engine will be toasty but not hot the next morning when it’s time to fly.
• I’ve seen the red bottles and cans of Marvel Mystery Oil in auto sections for years, and always laughed at the idea that a product could have “mystery” in its name and still sell. But I’ve learned that MMO is just about the handiest product made on the planet – I’ve yet to be mauled by a single tiger or crushed by an elephant.
• A low-powered airplane will force you to understand the effects of density altitude on aerodynamic performance. In more modern trainers, you may see a slight difference in climb gradient and runway length, but hardly enough to really impress upon you the need to account for temperature, humidity, elevation, and winds. I’ve learned it’s no problem to takeoff in the morning with a full 12 gallon fuel tank, but may not work as well on a hot, still afternoon.
• You don’t need a checklist – just eyeballs. Start at the left and work right: That aileron flaps as expected, and elevator does the uppy-downy thing, door closed, seatbelt on, primer in, carb heat off, mags both, fuel on, oil press/temp green, trim takeoff, door closed, that aileron aileroning.
• Runup: Hold brakes but make sure there’s room to drift, RPM 1700, mags left, both, right, both, carb heat, oil good, idle – still running? Go.
• Old taildraggers were not designed for paved runways. The prop is out of the dirt as you taxi around, the grass helps bump the bird upward as it gains flying speed, the grass allows the tires to slide just enough to rescue a landing with drift, and a grass landing – properly done – can make a landing very “cushiony” according to my daughter. Landing on pavement is like root canal –necessary, but not sought-after.
• Flying 500-1000 feet above the ground, you see the ground in a whole new way, still a part of it, yet with a different perspective. Typical GA VFR flight happens several thousand feet above the ground (and should, in very congested areas). But out here where the living is “rural,” I see more gas wells, cows, and trees than houses, so I keep it low and slow, following a river here, a mountain valley there, or some ancient Indian path converted to a lightly travelled road.
• A good habit on final is to wiggle your feet and feel the rudder move. This ensures you have a foot on each rudder pedal.
• If you’re heels are on the floor, you can’t actuate the heel brakes. This is generally good.
• With this old bird, the instruments are more advice and commentary than rules. The altimeter says 2000, and “looks about right from here” is close enough – We’re not flying IFR, so don’t need a “sensitive” altimeter. The airspeed indicator simply what I can hear and feel – getting slow? Noise is reduced, controls get sloppy. Going faster? More noise, responsive controls. Really quiet but responsive controls? Time to land. Probably the only panel gauge that gets a regular look-see is the oil pressure gauge.
• In a Chief, you lead turns with your feet – contrary to all training. That’s the way it is, so get used to it – just use less when turning left – it already wants to go that way.
• You don’t need a plan, and you don’t need objectives. Most pilots and aircraft owners are mission-focused. This trait is usually linked to the income required to own and fly airplanes. That’s fine, but you don’t need a mission when it’s costing twenty bucks an hour to fly (“fixed costs” like hangar rent and taxes and the rest are annual dues to the club – they don’t count towards flying time). So go to the airport, open the hangar doors, do a leisurely preflight, pull the bird out, prop it, taxi, takeoff and then fly around. Resist the urge to lay out a training schedule – unless, of course, you really want to. But likely you’ll practice turns about a point, coordinated turns, chandelles, wingovers --maybe even a Lazy 8 or two all while you’re "just out flying."
• Mornings are the best times to fly – it’s usually still, cooler, and the sky isn’t too busy or bumpy. Even on days when the forecast warns of winds and rain, you can usually sneak out of a alf hour or so before the weather wakes up.
• Late evenings, just before sunset is second-best, though you usually have to share the air with other airplanes in the pattern. Out of the pattern, they’re no longer a factor, since they fly above you.
• Shut the fuel off after making the last taxi turn and you can see no one’s blocking your way to your hangar. Shut it off sooner, and you may have to do a hot restart within 100 feet of where you’d be shutting down.
• Never take a prop from a guy named Lefty.
• The smaller the field, the more welcome you’ll be.
• There is a time and place for a ground loop – during an emergency landing in a back yard. Keep this in mind.
• Most people simply don’t get your affinity for this old, lightweight, underpowered antique. It’s ok – if they did, prices would go up.
• As soon as you think you’ve figured out wheel landings, you’ll be proven wrong.
• As soon as you think you’ve figured out three point landings, you’ll be proven wrong.
• As soon as you think you’ve figured out landings, you’ll be proven wrong.
• Only one thing matters on landing – keep it straight. Well that, and don’t stall it in. And don’t hit the taxiway lights on the crossing taxiway. And don’t ground loop. And avoid the storm drain. Otherwise, it’s very simple.

There’s plenty more to learn, and that's half the fun.

Real Emergency (!)

I flew to work this morning. It was gorgeous clear, and cool. The weather was forecast to be nice all day. The winds picked up and varied, but that would be fine, as I planned to land on the grass back home at Waynesburg. Crosswind landings on pavement are not fun, as the slightest drift can quickly turn into a ground loop. While I've done plenty, I never look forward to a gusty crosswind landing on pavement.

The sun was shining bright and the preflight revealed the airplane was ready to fly. I tied the tail down, threw the prop, and listened to the Lycoming O-145 chug to life. I waited a few minutes as the engine warmed, untied and un-chocked and climbed aboard. Winds were favoring 23 so I taxied all the way back to the end and performed a quick runup. Everything fine and as expected.

I gradually added power, maintained a bit offfset from centerline, and was quickly airborne. Takeoffs on 23 at Fairmont can be a bit disconcerting as there's a nice tall road berm at the departure end. While there's plenty of room to get airborne and over the berm, a power loss anytime along the takeoff run would be interesting. I kept the speed up, popped up over the berm, and made a climbing a right turn over the river to head north back home.  I kept the climb at 60 MPH to 2500' since it was a bit bumpy down low and the landing options are limited over downtown Fairmont.

Now that I was past the river I looked for options -- there was a nice emergency field off the left side. Good -- those are rare in West Virginia; land of hills and valleys and trees. I reached for the throttle as I started to level off  --I  hadn't touched it yet when suddenly power went from 2500 RPM to 2000, and the engine sounded sick -- very sick -- as if it were running on bad gas.

In the retelling I can state that many thoughts raced through my mind, but only one dominated -- get back to the airport NOW!

I glanced at the oil pressure, looked at the field to the left, then decided to do a 180 to see how far it was back to the airport. The engine was still putting out power -- barely. The RPM needle was bouncing now between 1500-1800 RPM.

I had the handheld radio set to 122.800 and announced: "Chief Returning to Fairmont, Loss of power, clear the runway" (there was a C172 at the fuel pump that just started after I taxied out -- I never heard him make any calls so didn't know where he was).

I looked ahead -- I had plenty of altitude with the power available to make it back to the airport. If it died between here and there I'd make the river.

I didn't touch the throttle until I was 2 miles out. I was over 1200' AGL.

I reduced the throttle slightly and it dropped immediately to 800 RPM. I slipped aggressively (very aggressively -- this airplane will fly sideways with enough aileron and counter-rudder) and was still pretty high. I kept the slip in until I was about 5 feet above the pavement, 1/3rd the way down the runway, then wheeled it on the upwind side (When I departed there was a direct crosswind varying from 6-10 knots. I couldn't see the sock before I landed, but really didn't care).

I rolled on one wheel for about 400' (I was doing about 70 when I touched down), and kept the weight on the upwind wheel. When the lift decayed I kept the tail up. Eventually both mains were down and I held some brake. I wheelied a long way, but actually only used about 1000' of runway. the combination brake and wheel landing allowed me to brake fairly heavily. I pulled the throttle completely to idle -- the engine continued to run, but unevenly.

I'd like to claim I planned to wheel land and do all this great aviating. I didn't. I planted it on and reverted to habit, which fortunately was based on good training.

There was no possibility of go around and the end of runway 23 at Fairmont has a nice tall road berm about 50' above the runway. I had plenty of runway left once I touched down.

I taxied in, parked in front of the hangar, and ran it up -- lots of unburned fuel smell. I'll bet it threw a plug.

The FBO owner and a mechanic came out -- they'd heard me on the radio and said they'd called 911. Oh great. They called back -- everything's fine.

We pulled the cowling off. Sure enough, plug #1 on the left front cylinder was hanging out in space.

They'll repair it there and I'll bring it back home later this week.

Bottom line: Training took over. As soon as I heard the power change I had my field in sight, did a turn to lose altitude. When I knew I had residual power, made for the airport, kept it high, had an out if the airport wasn't made, and slipped aggressively and wheelied when it was the only option.

May Morning

Flew KWAY to Fairmont, WV (4G7) this morning. We had widespread frost but by the time I reached the airport the sun had warmed the hangar a bit. Ambient temperture was right around 40 so I didn't pre-heat the engine.

I topped off with 3 gallons of 100LL I had stored in a gas can, preflight, then pulled out into the brilliant sunshine.

Startup was normal, and soon temperatures and pressures were as expected.

7 minutes later I was pointing down the runway. The airplane climbed quite nicely in the cold, dense air. I pointed south and levelled off at 2500 feet.

It was surprisingly bumpy this cold, clear morning. From the way the steam wafted from the powerplants I could tell I had a steady headwind, with winds out of the southwest at 10-15 1000 feet above the surface.

It took 30 minutes from startup to shutdown. I had a nice, straight-in approach the runway 23 in Fairmont (first time I've landed in that direction in a couple of years) with a gentle touchdown.

Morning Flight

I considered flying to work and back today, but forecast winds 15G25 gave me pause.

But at 6 AM, the air was clear, crisp, and still.

I drove straight to the airport before work, did a quick preflight, pulled the airplane out into the sun, tied the tail down, primed, spun, checked and tossed and soon the mighty Lycoming was puttering like my beagle when she's ready for a walk.

Untie, unchock, climb in, check oil once more, turn on radio -- ugh.

Oh well. It's early, no one else is out, and I have a spare AA battery carrier on board.

There’s the slightest breeze wafting in from the west. Runup good, check the sky, point west.
The tail comes up and soon the earth falls away.

The air is smooth and very clear – unusually so, even for a spring day. As I climb to 2500’ or so, I notice steam plumes from the powerplants bent to the northwest.

Level and cruising at 80 MPH, the ground creeps by at a snail’s pace. I check ground speed using the ultra-sophisticated “Look at the cars on the highway” method: ok, 55, maybe 60.

Even though the wind is from the southeast, the ride is smooth. That’s also unusual here, since southeast and easterly flows bounce across the washboard Alleghenies, making for unpleasant aviating. I continue east, dive a bit once over the fog shrouded Monongahela, and head towards the house.

Over the past few weeks the landscape has transitioned from nascent to full-on, riotous green. Trees shoulder one another with broad, leafy arms, fields bloom, and ponds and lakes wake to dustings of seeds and pollen.

From my vantage point above it all, the all-pervading sense is peace and stillness. Even cars look unoccupied and somehow natural, like beetles scurrying from one log to another on the forest floor. The birds haven’t yet climbed up, the dust and clouds and winds of the more mature day are yet to come. In my tiny fabric covered airplane, I am in control, and can go where I will, with simple nudges that would barely rouse a cat.

But the sensation is illusory – I slide open the side window some more and feel the wind blast, hear the engine putting. All that keeps me here is force and power – the burning of fuel and the mastery of aerodynamic forces that compel this heavy object into the sky work in concert, but only temporarily.

The familiar hills, water tower, and houses. I see Janet on the deck. How can all that I love in this world be contained in such a small space? This weekend our house will be filled with our children and our granddaughter. It looks too small, too frail, too miniscule for the weight of meaning placed within those old walls.

I wave, do a few low altitude turns about a point and then a zoom climb back to 2500’ on an easterly heading, towards the Summit (a 1930’s era landmark restaurant/hotel at the summit of Chestnut Ridge along Route 40, the first National Highway).

Bumps begin. The wind was still right on the nose and I slowed even more as I approached the west side of the ridge. I imagine all that air cascading down the face of the ridge like Niagara Falls, tumbling, and rolling. Still, the bumps are light and the cascade is more like a gentle stream flow than a torrent.

I look at my watch – I hate weekdays – and turn west. I push the nose forward and enjoy the speed – maybe 100 MPH groundspeed? – cars fade in my wake.

I turn on the radio and listen. One of my students is flying this morning.

I announce five miles east of the field. An inbound Cherokee announces 10 miles out. I let him know my intentions, push the nose down a bit more.

“Greene County traffic, Chief 24286, straight in 27 for the grass, Green County.”

I skim over the tree tops, pull power to idle, crank in trim, give a few slips just for grins, and touch down gently on the grass, decimating dandelions and spraying dew on struts and wings.

The restaurant is busy. I’m sure at least a few observers critique my landing. No mind. Taxi to the hangar, cut off the fuel, let it idle at 1000, putt-putt….

Click, click as the engine cools and I push the airplane back into its den. The breeze is freshening. By nightfall this beautiful, clear sky will be filled with rumbling, dark, malevolent energy roaring in from the west.

But not yet.

Night Flight

I broke one of my personal rules yesterday -- "Don't fly over the Alleghenies at night."

Of course this rule has been broken by countless check and charter pilots for decades, but for me it's about leaving as many options open as possible, and at night there just aren't that many options between THS and IHD.

Sure, this stretch of mountains (really a series of ridges) seems almost laughable compared to real mountains (Rockies, Sierra, Andes, etc). But this chain still separates the widely divergent cultures of Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, still causes its own local weather, was the bane of many an airmail, airline, and charter pilot, and still claims the occasional unwary or bit-too-cavalier type.

I had all that in mind (and more) when I launched from Connellsville, at the very foot of the westernmost ridge, on the eastbound leg in the waning hours of a long, hot June day.

Winds were steady from the southwest at 10, skies were generally clear, and I had the promise of some good tailwinds for the planned hour-long flight to Lancaster.

I filed anyway, preferring the added interest that filing gives to a XC flight. I circled once above the airport, climbed to 5000, then 9000, and then settled in for the direct flight. To the north we could see a series of CB marching eastward. The XM on the GPS indicated this line was just south of the PA-NY border, which meant they were at least 120 miles from our route of flight. The HIWAS announcement and later Center Weather Advisory confirmed this. But clouds with tops in the 40s sure looked big -- and close.

The flight passed quickly with the pleasant company of my all too grownup daughter in whose eyes I still see a mischievous 5 year old. Soon, we were on the ramp at LNS and I was unloading her bags and saying a hasty goodbye. The sun was turning orange and daylight would soon be a memory. I filed direct for the return flight, but the clearance sent me to DELRO, then NESTO, adding at least 15 minutes to the expected 1:15 trip.

I took off into the sunset and climbed towards DELRO, trying to avoid looking at the GS panel on the G430. I dutifully followed the routing and switched to NY Center once cleared to 9000. After about 10 minutes Center asked if I was able to proceed Direct to destination.

Me: "I am able and would be very happy to proceed direct!"

NYC: "Then here's a present -- proceed direct..."

I set course and watched the sky turn from orange to light violet. Ahead and to the right was a shelf of clouds. Those directly ahead were below my altitude, those to the right built steadily. Soon, it was dark enough to see them lit up from inside with lightning. I checked HIWAS and the XM and heard another CWA -- that line was still 100 miles and more to the north of my route.

But they sure looked closer.

The violet turned to varying shades of purple. The chatter on Center freq was all airliners now -- I only heard a single Cherokee as he haltingly asked for flight following for a 20 mile hop. NY Center helped him out anyway. I even heard Center say, "Air Force One, Standby."

The clouds starting reaching up, and by now I had 30 degrees correction to maintain heading (257 hdg for 287 track). The headwind computed to 46 knots. I thought about going lower but the winds aloft from 3000-9000 gave no hope of faster groundspeed lower.

Besides, by now the lights of the towns and cities of southeast Pennsylvania were behind me -- those gentle rolling hills, wide fields and pastures, and scattered airports were behind me as well.

I hit Nrst on the handheld and only P and R airports appeared -- small grass fields -- unlit, unfamiliar, and short.

I spent as much time glancing at the EGT, Oil Pressure and temp gauges as the Nav gauges. All remained steady, even though every so often the slightest change in sound would reveal impending doom.

An active imagination is no friend to SEL, Single Pilot IFR at night.

I reminded myself I was a bit too old and experienced to be worrying about scary sounds in the night and to fly the airplane. The monsters retreated to the closet for a while.

The cloud layer beneath soon obscured the few lights below, and so I set the A/P on track and altitude hold, and leaned forward to watch the show on the right.

The line of thunderstorms ran continuous -- on the XM it indicated from Erie, PA to northern NJ. It was spectacular and frightening at the same time. I heard Center advising the heavy iron about intense precip, and the expected requests for diversions.

A small line of cells broke off from the main pack and was marching from Akron, OH towards the Ellwood City VOR -- too close for comfort to my destination. I checked the GS -- 101 Knots, while IAS was 130. A quick check on the E6B showed what sort of headwind I was fighting. 49 knots on the nose. It would be a race, and the opponent had a 49 knot tail wind.

Ugh.

60 miles out Cleveland Center said, "Descend and Maintain 7000."

At 8000 I was skimming the tops of some build-ups that extended southward from the line of cells -- like a train of pretenders wanting to be near the Great Ones. I asked if I could remain at 8 for a bit and was given "pilot's discretion."

I like that phrase....

Near Johnstown -- as expected -- the uplift was done and the clouds dissipated. By now it was fully dark -- only the faintest purple glow on the western horizon. Scattered lights twinkled far, far below -- appearing more distant due to the haze.

Cleveland Center kept working the diversions, and I announced my intention to descend. Down, down, into the enveloping haze and cloud layer, the airplane bouncing a bit, the engine running fine, the gauges doing what I expect them to, the cabin air warming and getting damper, the lights below momentarily disappearing and re-appearing, the flashes of light off to the right continuing...

I switched to map view on the GPS. 20nm zoom doesn't reveal any airports -- 50 nm does. I leave it set there.

I initially request the GPS approach, then amend that -- I'll take the visual and avoid the 10 nm diversion to the IAF.

I start to see familiarity to the pattern of lights. I've flown here often enough at night -- tethered within stumbling engine distance of familiar airports and routes and visual references. Of course I've returned from long cross countries at night before -- but always at the end of flights that start in daylight and end at night. This entire flight was officially "night" -- even though the sky remained luminescent with vestigial light for a while after the sun was far to the west.

I tell myself that familiarity is false comfort -- an unseen tree or power line or crane will wreak as much havoc here as over Sideling Hill or Laurel Ridge.

I set myself to the task at hand and look for the airport. I use the #2 comm to switch on the lights -- a nearly useless gesture this distance from the airport embedded in a sea of lights. Nevertheless, my familiarity helps.

That row of lights there is next to that, so the airport must be -- there!

There's the airport -- green-white beacon, string of blue taxiway lights like glowing sapphires -- is there anything so beautiful as taxi lights at night? REILS, PAPI, runway lights -- all blend in to the surrounding light noise -- but taxiway lights -- they fairly shout OVER HERE! HERE'S THE AIRPORT! COME THIS WAY!

Cleveland switches me to Pitt and I'm only with the friendly Pitt controller long enough for the cancellation and the switch to local.

I line up for the straight in visual. No one else is in the pattern -- this is a mostly VFR field with only the hard-cores or twin drivers up at night or in weather.

There's a stiff crosswind 50 degrees from the left. I haven't down a night x-wind landing in a while so it will be a good refresher. I have about a 10 degree crab on descent and keep it just a little high. This wind will cause the expected downdraft 150 feet from the threshold. Sure enough, there it is -- some power, keep it level, OK, now reduce power, there are the numbers, transition to wing low -- too much, that's better -- see the tire marks? good -- now transition to level 2 feet above the pavement -- hold it off, hold it off, hold it -- adjust for that gust -- straighten it, hold it -- squeak -- slight swerve, maintain crosswind correction -- good -- roll out -- no brakes, roll off the taxiway.

"Traffic, me, Clear of the active, traffic"

I clean up the flaps, cowl flaps, turn off the transponder, #2 comm, the radios, take off the headset. Wow. That feels good. Open the window, take in the warm night air, smell the 100ll, taxi back to the hangar.

As the gyros wind down, and the engine ticks cool, and the hangar light shines on the newly cleaned surface, I look over the airplane once more before closing the hangar door and turning off the light. It's only a machine, and has as much loyalty and concern for me as a Persian cat -- but somehow I have this fleeting sense that we are both happy to be back, and that we took care of each other, and that shared respect ensured our arrival.

But I won't do that again.

Until the next time.