Category Archives: Flying

Busy Again

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand all of a sudden it’s feeling crazy busy for a few days.

I’m rapidly getting much more involved with my local Commemorative Air Force wing, about which you will no doubt hear much in the future.

IMG_7207_smallThe CAF logo on the tail of our B-29, “Fifi”, when she visited Camarillo in March, 2013.

Also, tonight was the first night of this semester’s “Conversational Spanish II”. Only one night a week, six weeks, no tests, no credits, but a good way to at least get exposed to some fundamentals and be able to ask where the bathroom is and, more importantly, probably understand the answer. Plus, it’s a special treat to take the class with The Long-Suffering Wife. We’re a cute couple. (A couple of what, we don’t know! Thanks, I’ll be here all week. Tip your waitress. Try the veal.)

Tomorrow I’m visiting a writer’s group which I may be invited to join for their weekly meetings. That would be a great opportunity, although it’s a good two hours drive (in Irvine) each way. But it could get me out of the house and off the streets in addition to getting some valuable personal feedback on my writing, as well as some insight into the processes that others use. It will be great! Assume y’all will be hearing more about that.

Now I have to get back to work.

Plus I have my “normal” daily writing to get to. Oh, yeah, and that whole job search thing. That’s kinda important too.

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Filed under Flying, Job Hunt, Photography, Writing

Flash Fiction Follow-Up: Midair II

Last week I wrote a cliffhanger short story for Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge. This week I finished up someone else’s story from that first exercise. However, while I got several very nice comments about my cliffhanger story (thanks y’all, very much appreciated!), no one chose my story as their starting point for this week’s challenge. Yet several folks have said that they still want to know what comes next in my cliffhanger. So, here’s a bonus bit of fiction to tie up those loose ends. Even better, I can make it as long as it needs to be. None of this “1,000 words or so” to deal with! 3,200+ words! Whoo-hoo!

(Another good reason for writing this is that it’s windy as all get out here in SoCal today, which has in turn knocked out the power. It may be a couple of hours before we get it back- but I can write most of this on my iPad! Let’s here it for living the First World! Now if I could just open the fridge to get a cold Diet Coke…)

MIDAIR II

Coming down deadstick over the forest, I was trying to watch five things at once.

I needed to keep my airspeed pegged for maximum glide, but with the master switches off and all of the electronic avionics dead, I was watching the backup “steam” gauges over on the passenger’s side.

I was also looking at the terrain to make sure that I would clear the trees and land somewhere in the fields beyond.

I was also trying to watch the approaching fields through the busted windshield to see if there were any obstacles to dodge at the last second.

I was also trying to glance at the emergency checklist to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything critical.

I was also trying to get any clue from the trees and fields about the wind direction, since it would be much safer and easier to land into the wind. With the wind would be bad, a strong crosswind could be fatal.

I was trying as hard as I could to clot and coagulate so that blood would stop running into my eyes.

Finally, I was trying to remember to always fly the plane. Fly the plane. FLY THE PLANE!

Adrenaline is great stuff — ask for it by name!

About thirty seconds out I had cleared the trees and saw a big field of corn stretching out before me. There were some large farm buildings, barns, and a tent on the right side, but I didn’t need to get anywhere near them. The way the corn was waving clearly showed me that the wind was blowing straight at me. I had half expected that since I had been flying with a stiff tail wind when I had collided with the flock of geese a few minutes earlier, but it was great to get confirmation.

Perfect! It would be like landing in a big pit of foam packing peanuts.

Two seconds after that thought, I saw how wrong I was. Instantly, my intended landing sit was just as unacceptable as it had previously been wonderful.

As I approached I could finally see the far side of the barns. There sat three school buses. The corn I could now see wasn’t smooth, but had paths cut through it.

I was flying at eighty-seven knots with tanks half full of highly flammable avgas straight into a corn maze full of school kids. With my engine out, I was almost completely silent. They would never know what hit them.

It was too late to make any drastic moves. I was only one hundred feet up, with no engine. I had nowhere to go but down. But if I lost control and spun or stalled now, not only would I be down on top of the kids, I would be out of control, spinning, and crashing. Exploding and burning.

Without thinking I banked to the left as much as I dared, away from the corn field and the farm buildings. My headwind was now a crosswind, working to lift my right wing and try to roll me. The turn started killing my speed and threatened to make me stall. I lowered the nose to keep the speed up, fought to keep the turn shallow, and hoped for the best. It wasn’t much of a turn, I was way too low, but it was enough.

The trees at the south side of the farm came up at me like a freight train. They were mostly some kind of pines and it was like hitting a row of bushy telephone poles. I had just enough time to get level, pull back hard, try to flare to bleed off some speed, and brace for the crash.

The fact that I came back to consciousness meant that the plane’s cabin hadn’t hit a tree head on. I was leaning back with the nose of the plane up about twenty degrees or so. I was also leaning about forty-five degrees over to the left. The broken windshield had even more damage now and there were broken pine branches sticking through it.

I could smell avgas, so there was obviously a fuel tank rupture someplace. If that gas was soaking into the pine needles underneath me, this was a really bad place to be if anything sparked. I had to get out, fast.

That was easier said than done. I took off my headphones and unbuckled my seat belt, trying to shift my weight to start sitting up. Instead of sitting however, I almost passed out again as waves of pain came up from my right leg and foot. I settled back for a second, caught my breath, waited for the bright, red stars to go away, then carefully raised my head to check out what I had injured.

My arms and ribs had gotten bashed, but nothing seemed broken. I could move them around as long as I didn’t try to shift my lower body. The cuts on my head were oozing again and seemed to have joined by at least two walnut-sized lumps. I tried moving my left leg and found that I could shift it and wiggle my toes, but there was something holding it tight. Any attempt to move my right leg brought on incredible amounts of pain.

It looked like the plane had gone between a couple of trees and sheared off the wings, which was good. That probably also caused the fuel in the wing tanks to spill, which was bad. Missing the wings, the plane cabin had carried forward until it hit another tree, stopping nose up and sideways. The collision had pushed the engine back toward me and the firewall down by my feet had buckled, trapping my left foot and probably breaking my right leg in a couple of spots.

Adrenaline will only take you so far. I had already used a lot of it in the last half hour. I needed some help, badly, or I was going to die.

Help arrived in the form of a woman’s voice connected to jeans and hiking boots. I heard her running through the underbrush and yelling at someone to stay back. I saw the boots and jeans appear outside the smashed door window next to me.

“Are you hurt? Do you need help?” she yelled.

“Yes, I’m hurt and I need help. I think… I’m pretty sure that I’ve got a broken leg, plus some other cuts and bumps. My leg is trapped and I can’t get out right now.”

She knelt down next to the plane and looked in at me. “We’ve called for help, but they won’t be here for at least thirty minutes. What can we do until they get here?”

“You have to get back away from the plane. There’s a huge danger of fire with the spilled fuel.”

She immediately sat up and looked away from me, back through the trees toward the farm.

“All of you kids get back at least fifty feet!” she yelled. “There could be an explosion and a fire. Stay back! Jennifer, you run back to the farm and meet the fire truck when it gets here. Tell them that there’s a fuel spill and a fire danger. Go! Run!”

She leaned back down toward the ground and looked around inside the cabin. She looked at my leg and reached in through the window to feel below my right knee.

“Can you feel if it’s bleeding or just broken? Are you losing blood down there?”

“I can’t feel any bleeding but I’m dead serious about the fire danger. Don’t be stupid. You have to get back away from here!”

“Duly noted. Nothing’s burning yet. I’ll run away and let you fricassee when I smell smoke, OK? Can you move your left leg at all?”

“Yes, I can move it, but not much.”

“OK. We may or may not have much time, so let’s not waste it.” She sat back on her heels and pushed gently at the plane. She rocked it a bit a couple of times, testing to see how well it would roll and shift. “This doesn’t weigh that much, so we’re going to try to shift this all back upright, then pull you out. Are you up for that?”

“Sure, it beats any ideas I have. Who is ‘we’?” I asked.

“Wait here, try not to move,” she said, ignoring my question. “I’ll be right back.”

The boots disappeared and I heard her jogging away. There was some conversation going on back behind me but I had no way of turning to see who it might be. Several minutes went by and I thought that I could hear running back and forth.

I moved only enough to reach down between the seats to gently pull lose the small fire extinguisher there. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had. Meanwhile, I was straining my ears to hear sirens, hoping that the rescue crews were near. I was straining my nose to smell smoke, but all I could smell was my sweat and blood, mixed with the smell of gasoline.

Finally I heard several sets of footsteps crunching through the pine needles. My rescuer was giving instructions to her team, whoever they were.

“Ed, you go over on that side by the tail. Bobby, you stay on this side behind the door, there. Keith, you’re up there by the nose. Ed, stay on your toes, the tail is going to swing your way. You need to stay well clear of it as it goes. OK?

“If any of you see or smell anything that might be a spark or fire, you let everyone know and blast it immediately. Remember, aim for the base of the fire, don’t shoot up in the air at the flame. If that doesn’t work, if the fire catches or spreads, bail out of here, immediately. Run. If you get caught by the fire, remember to stop, drop, and roll. No panicking. Any questions?”

She moved up next to my broken window, her boots appearing on the ground near my head. Again she knelt and bent over to peer in at me.

“How are you doing in there? Still with us?”

“I’ve had better days but I’m still here. What’s the plan?”

“Oh, good. You’ve got an extinguisher too. You relax and try to keep still. The nose is caught up on a couple of trees here, but this whole thing is light enough. We’re going to swing the tail around so that the nose comes loose and the weight of the engine should drop you upright. I’ve got three guys here with the fire extinguishers from the buses in case anything sparks.”

“The buses? Who is all here? Who are you?”

“I’m Ellen, I’m a teacher and coach at Keys High. These guys are from my team, they’ve got the muscle to get this done. Are you up for it? I don’t know when the fire truck and ambulance will get here.”

I thought about it for a few seconds. A wave of dizziness swept over me and I was starting to get nauseous. I knew what that probably meant and it wasn’t good. I didn’t know if I was bleeding from that broken leg. Ellen’s plan seemed sound. I had gotten this far in this emergency by following the book, but there wasn’t any book for this part of it. We were making it up as we went along.

“Your guys, how old are they? Are they going to be safe doing this? Am I going to be rescued by a soccer mom and a bunch of ten-year-olds?”

That got a laugh from her. “Hardly! The younger guys are all back further and their girlfriends are all back at the farm. The guys who are doing the heavy lifting are all seventeen and eighteen. It’s not soccer, it’s football. You’re going to get your ass rescued by the Cougar varsity team. They’re smart, strong, and fast.”

“OK, let’s do it.”

Without another word to me, Ellen stood up and started giving instructions to the rest of her team. On the count of three, two big lineman leaned down on the tail while another two pushed the nose away from the trees where it was caught. In just seconds, the nose came clear and dropped with a thud, the plane rolling more or less upright.

The pain from my leg was overwhelming as we rolled and banged around. The final drop onto the bent up front landing gear led to the strut collapsing and dropping the nose down onto the ground. The engine pulled back forward, pulling the my trapped right foot with it. There was a great deal of screaming and cursing, all of it from me.

Then the plane door was pulled open and I saw Ellen for the first time. She was short, built a little bit like a fire plug, with short, flaming red hair caught up under a baseball cap. Behind here I could see a half dozen very large guys, some of them holding fire extinguishers at the ready.

“Can you get your leg out now?” she asked. “We need to get you out ASAP and take a look at your head and your leg.”

My left foot was pretty much free now that the firewall had bent back out of the cabin. My right leg was in agony and I couldn’t feel or see if it was loose or not. I told Ellen, and she peered down underneath the dashboard and panel to see what was going on.

“I see what it is. There are some pedals down there. It looks like your right foot is caught up under one of them and your ankle is probably broken, maybe the leg as well. That’ll be where the pain’s coming from. I know you can’t move it, but we can move the leg for you and pull you out. It’s probably going to hurt like hell.”

“Too late, it already does. Do it, I’ve got to get out of here and we’ve all got to get away from the plane. I don’t want you or your guys near here. I’ll do my best to pass out before the screaming gets too bad and you can tell me about it later. Do it.”

Ellen sent everyone away from the plane except for the three guys carrying the fire extinguishers and one tall, strong guy who just reeked of quarterback. She crouched down inside the door near the floorboards and gently grabbed my right leg. Mr. QB leaned in over her and grabbed under my arms, partially setting me upright.

“OK, just like we do in on the quarterback sneak play, guys. Got it? On three. One.”

There never was a two or a three. I was as faked out as the opposing defense was supposed to be. Before I knew it, my leg was being twisted and pulled free, the whole world went dark with pain, there was some more screaming, crying, and swearing, and Mr QB yanked me free and out into the open like a tackling dummy. Fortunately, I was unconscious before the leg hit the ground.

I woke up, looking at the sky that was starting to get dark with dusk. I was strapped down on something soft, with a blanket over me and an IV bag suspended above. Around my leg were a couple of paramedics, and when I turned my head I could see the football team watching the proceedings. They seemed bored, as if they saw a plane crash every day. A couple were holding their phones and taking pictures.

There was obviously something really good mixed in with the saline in the IV bag. Everything was all soft around the edges and I felt no pain at all. Great stuff, whatever it was. Even better than adrenaline. Ask for it by name, too.

As the paramedics finished putting a brace on my leg and got the stretcher ready to lift into the ambulance, Ellen came toward me from behind the crowd of her team. She stood over me, looking down for a second, then asked how I felt.

“Fuzzy. I think I’ll live. I just might not like it for a day or two. Are all of you guys OK?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. The guys all have an adventure to brag about. It will do them good.”

“Did the plane burn?”

“Nope, they’re foaming it down and calling in a hazmat team now to clean up the fuel. I think that plane’s a goner though.”

“Yeah, I knew that. The insurance company owned it as soon as the geese hit.”

“Is that what happened? It was hard to tell with all of the crash damage, but I did see the dead goose on the floor as we were pulling you out.”

“Yep, it was a great emergency right up until the end. I didn’t quite stick the landing.”

“I was going to ask about that. I saw you gliding in at the last minute and you could have just gone into the corn smooth as could be. Why did you swerve off?”

“I saw the maze and the buses at the last second, didn’t want to hurt the kids. The trees were the best I could do on short notice.”

“I appreciate that. One other thing. Isn’t that a Cirrus?”

“Yeah, it is. Why?”

“Don’t they have an emergency parachute system in them?”

It was a good thing that I was doped up. That way I could lay there slack jawed and drooling for a minute and blame it on the drugs, instead of how I was feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that the plane has a parachute. So why didn’t I use it? I just didn’t think of it. I was busy, and hurt. I haven’t flown this plane more than once or twice. I’m almost always in a Cessna and I did all of my training in Cessnas. When the emergency hit I just went by the training I had. I guess I was just stupid.”

“Given that you managed to miss me and my kids, I think you did OK.”

The paramedics picked me up and started to put the stretcher into the ambulance.

“Thank you for pulling me out of there and saving my life! And thank your guys too!”

“You can thank them all yourself, later. Me and my guys will be over to see you in a day or two.”

The ambulance doors shut and my big adventure was over for the day.

And that’s the story of how I met my wife, Ellen.

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Encino Nike Base

A week or so ago, after looking at a bunch of things that I had written here, ranting about stuff that really had me PO’d (“gremlin” issues, the cable war thing, politics, and so on) I had decided to make a conscious decision to be less negative and more positive. I was going to look for the good, not dwell on the bad.

Then this whole Congressional epic fail thing happened and my Twitter feed is full of NASA sites and scientists shutting down for the duration and I see and hear all of the BS from both sides and it just puts my head back into a very negative place. (Wow, how 70’s!)

But I’m learning (slowly) that I can have a choice to NOT be a victim in these events. That’s leading to some very mixed up and far reaching thought processes about the whole thing, which I’m hoping will lead to some really interesting posts here once it all gets distilled down into rational thoughts. (Plus there are time-consuming and hopefully positive things going on this week on the job hunt mess, as well as my beloved Chiefs to follow, and hockey started today! But I digress…)

The process of distilling the raw “ARAGGGGHH!!” reaction to the world into actual English is going to take a few days at least, so for now, y’all may just get a bunch of pictures every day for the next few. (I take a LOT of pictures!)

A few years ago a good friend from work let me in on a little known, special place up in the Santa Monica Mountains. For those of you not familiar with Los Angeles, the Santa Monicas run east-west from the Pacific coast, through the middle of the city, to Griffith Park. At the west end you have Malibu to the south and the western San Fernando Valley to the north of the mountains. At the east end you have downtown Los Angeles, Hollywood, and Dodger Stadium to the south and the eastern San Fernando Valley (Burbank & Glendale) to the north.

Back in the 1950’s when we all thought that we were going to get fried by Russian Commie Nukes at any second, the government went up into those mountains and found a perfect spot to put a Nike missile base. From the top of one of the mountains you could see all of the San Fernando Valley, downtown LA, almost all of the LA Basin and the coastline from Malibu to Palos Verdes. For a long time, there were anti-missile missiles up in them thar hills.

The missiles are gone, but the base got turned over to the folks who are making almost all of that mountain range a public park. The base has been partially restored as a historical site and it’s open to the public – if you know where it is and how to get there.

There aren’t any signs and as far as I can tell it’s only publicized by word of mouth. You have to know where to turn off of Mulholland Drive (which is pretty narrow and twisty turny to begin with) onto an unmarked road, then park in this dirt lot. From there it’s about a mile hike up a dirt fire road to the top of the hill. Lots of hikers know about it (the fire roads get hiked a lot, as well as the many hiking trails up in the park) and the dirt bikers know about it. But since you can’t drive up there, and would really need a four-wheel-drive vehicle if you did, most folks have no idea it’s there.

But oh, the views you can get on a clear day! (This particular clear day was April 29, 2010.)

(Previewing this post I realize that there’s something that I assume you all know, but maybe I shouldn’t assume. If you click on any of these pictures, you’ll get the full-sized picture, not just the tiny one in the post. You knew that, right?)

01_IMG_6233_smallA wide shot showing downtown Los Angeles about eighteen miles away. On the right, just over the foreground hills, you can see the skyscrapers of Century City. In the far distance on the right you can see Saddleback Mountain rising up over eastern Orange County, over fifty miles away.

02_IMG_6353_smallA telephoto shot of the view of downtown LA. The houses on the hill in the foreground are in Sherman Oaks, Westwood, and Bel Aire. Very, VERY pricey housing.

03_IMG_6238_smallA wide shot looking down toward the coastline. You can see the beach over the hill on the far right, with the Palos Verdes Peninsula rising up in the distance. Just over the hills you can clearly see a large white area running from left to right just inland from the coast – that’s LAX.

04_IMG_6355_smallA telephoto shot of the tip of the Palos Verdes Peninsula sticking out from the left in the distance (twenty-five miles away). Just visible sticking up though the marine haze on the horizon that big grey thing is Santa Catalina Island. It might be “twenty-six miles across the sea” in the song, but it’s about fifty miles from here.

05_IMG_6374_smallOut in the central San Fernando Valley is Van Nuys airport. Just in front of it is Lake Balboa, a huge man-made lake and park which uses totally recycled waste water. A great place to play, stroll, chill, run, and picnic.

06_IMG_6363_smallWay off in the distance, at the base of the San Bernardino Mountains, you can see Whiteman Airport, my home base when I fly. The big, white, curved area in the center is Hansen Dam and Recreation Center. Just to the right of it you can see four red and white striped smoke stacks, known to pilots as the “four towers”. Whiteman is just in front of the dam and the normal takeoff on Runway 12 aims you straight at the four towers. They mark the boundary between Whiteman’s airspace and Burbank’s, so if you’re not talking to Burbank’s tower real quick after takeoff, you had better be peeling off another direction or be planning on a long, uncomfortable talk with the FAA.

07_IMG_6384_smallThe wide shot of the central San Fernando Valley, with Whiteman Airport, Hansen Dam, and the four towers way up at the top and the office buildings of Encino in the foreground. A couple of those office buildings are where I worked for well over twenty years.

08_IMG_6366_smallFrom the Nike Base tower you’re looking down into the Encino Reservoir. Running right to left along the base of these hills you can see a lot of bigger buildings – that’s Ventura Boulevard. The major street running perpendicular to it from the mid-upper right is White Oak Boulevard. Reseda Boulevard is cutting north-south across a piece of the top, left corner.

09_IMG_6255_smallThe west San Fernando Valley, with the skyscrapers of Warner Ranch in the center. Ventura County starts at the top of those hills at the far end of the SFV as seen from here. Our house is out there to the left of Warner Center, right near the base of those hills.

10_IMG_6259_smallThe central San Fernando Valley, with Tarzana in the foreground and Chatsworth (porn production capital of the world!) in the distance. The Santa Suzanna Mountains are at the northwest edge of the SFV in the background, with Simi Valley on the other side.

11_IMG_6273_smallThe eastern San Fernando Valley, with the San Bernardino Mountains rising up in the distance. In the center middle distance you can see the skyscrapers of Glendale, and the infamous Universal City “black tower” is at the middle near the right edge. Griffith Park is in the hills behind the black tower. That gap you see between Griffith Park and the San Bernardinos will take you off to Pasadena, the Rose Bowl, and into the San Gabriel Valley.

12_IMG_6360_smallHere there be many red-tail hawks, riding the thermals and looking for lunch.

(See, wasn’t that much more relaxing and soothing than ranting about things that we have no power to change? Yes, I thought so, too.)

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Flash Fiction: Midair

This week’s “Flash Fiction Challenge” is again something new, and it’s (at least) a two-parter. Our favorite word monkey sensei, Chuck Wendig, has told us to write a cliffhanger, and then next week we’ll get some instructions on using other folk’s works from this week as the starting point for our resolution for next week. Or something like that. We’ll see. For now, it’s the usual “1,000 words or so” to leave the audience on tenterhooks. (What in the hell are “tenterhooks”?)

As always, comments and constructive criticisms are appreciated.

MIDAIR

The rolling hills of eastern Oklahoma were slipping away beneath me as I cruised along eastbound at five thousand feet. I would have preferred to be up at seven thousand, or even nine, but a layer of broken clouds above eliminated that option until I got my IFR ticket.

Given the circumstances, I wasn’t doing badly. I was cruising at 144 knots indicated, but a solid tail wind was giving me a ground speed of 168. I had plenty of fuel to make it to Jonesboro.

Salisaw was just starting to slip under the tip of the right wing as I headed east. The autopilot was doing the grunt work. I was just monitoring ATC and watching the hills roll by. Right about on time, Fort Worth Center chimed in.

“Eight Charlie Delta, contact Memphis Center on 126.1.”

I toggled the radio button. “Fort Worth, Eight Charlie Delta. Going to 126.1. Thanks for…”

My world exploded.

A large blur come in from the left. Instantly everything was noise and pain. I was buffeted by a hurricane wind. All I could see were some blurry, shapeless shadows. I could smell oil and gas and other things I couldn’t identify. The left side of my neck and head were in agony. Possibly worst of all, over the wind I could hear the plane’s engine clank, sputter, and die.

Instinctively, I keyed the mic and said the words that no pilot ever wants to say.

“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is Cirrus Niner Seven Eight Charlie Delta declaring an emergency.”  If anyone was answering, I couldn’t hear them. I didn’t even know if I was being heard.

Oddly, I could clearly hear my flight instructor’s voice in my head. I had always hated it when she had killed the power at the most inopportune moments to see if I was ready to handle an emergency. Now that I needed that training, her voice was still there, reminding me of what we had practiced dozens of times.

“Fly the plane! Fly the plane! Fly the plane! In an emergency that’s always your number one priority. Everything else is secondary.”

In order to fly the plane, first I needed to see. I gingerly felt my face and found a dozen bleeding cuts. The blood running down my forehead was getting into my eyes and blinding me. My sun glasses  were gone. The headphones were also AWOL, which would explain why the wind was so loud and I couldn’t hear the radio.

I held my left arm up to my forehead and pressed the sleeve there to try staunching the blood, ignoring the pain as best I could. Using my right sleeve to wipe more blood away, I blinked and tried to see what the hell had happened.

My plane was a mess. The side window on my left was gone and the windshield had been smashed on the left side. There was a rusty red stain across it and the left side of the cowling. The propeller was bent and motionless.

Inside the cockpit it wasn’t any better. I was covered in blood, some of it mine, some of it from the large goose that was on the floor next to the passenger seat. There was no sign of my sun glasses, but my headphones were on the floor next to the bird carcass.

The good news was that the instruments were still working. The autopilot had kept us more or less level, but with no power it was fighting a losing battle trying to simultaneously keep the airspeed up and the altitude level. I turned it off and manually set the trim for best glide speed, eighty-seven knots.

We were going down and needed a place to land. I hit the “Nearest” button on the map display and wasn’t happy with the results. Sallisaw was twenty-two miles to the south and Tahlequah twenty-five behind me. I was already passing through four thousand feet, so I was going to be on the ground in seven to eight miles.

Make a decision, make it quick, and stick with it. The terrain ahead was getting more hilly and uneven as we approached the Ozarks. Below was nothing but trees and hills. Back behind us, in spots around that big lake we had passed, it had looked flatter. Not flat, but flatter. I turned gently back to the west, keeping a constant eye on the airspeed.

Now would be a good time to see if any help was available. I pulled my arm away from my forehead and hoped that the bleeding had stopped. Ignoring the blood and goo that was smeared all over the headphones, I pulled them on. Immediately the sound of the wind was partially muted and I could hear ATC calling me.

“Cirrus Niner Seven Eight Charlie Delta, this is Fort Worth Center. Do you read? What is your emergency?”

“Fort Worth, this is Eight Charlie Delta. I’ve had a midair bird strike and have lost the engine. I have moderate injuries and will be making a forced landing. Sallisaw and Tahlequah are too far. I’m heading back west to the flatter terrain next to that large reservoir.”

“Roger, Eight Charlie Delta, we’ll notify emergency services. Report fuel and souls on board?”

“Fort Worth, one soul and twenty-two gallons of fuel onboard.”

Looking ahead I could see the reservoir, surrounded by hills and forests. I was losing altitude steadily, down below three thousand feet now. I could see some square areas just to the east of the lake which had been cleared of trees, probably farm fields. At least I hoped they were.

Getting lower and closer, it looked like I might just barely clear the tree line and get to the fields. It would mean landing without flaps to stretch my glide to the max, and that meant landing fast. No other options came to mind.

“Fort Worth, Eight Charlie Delta. I’m on a straight-in approach to some fields just to the east of the lake. Cutting electrical now.”

Everything was happening way too fast, but the checklist came up just like it had been drilled into me. Electrical system, off. Master switches, off. Seat belt, snug. Door, unlocked and cracked open.  Watch the airspeed, don’t stall and spin in now. Remember to keep the nose up,flare, and keep it in ground effect as long as possible.

One hundred feet up, pegged at eighty-six knots, I cleared the trees and was over open land.

That’s when I saw it.

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Random Blatherationings for September 18th

Looking for enlightenment, bubbie? If you look here you’ll be enlightened about the “rules” of this exercise. (I haven’t looked recently, so I may be breaking every rule – although I think there’s a rule requiring me to break the rules, so…) The three random seed words (from a NEW random word generating site) are “pail”, “garlic”, and “trailer”.

Pail – The first few dozen random Google hits are either for Garbage Pail Kid dolls on Ebay or for diaper pails on every retail site on the internet. Who knew that diaper pails were such a big business these days? But finally I hit a listing for “PAIL” which is the International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) airport code for Iliamna Airport in Alaska. It looks like a mid-sized, regional airport with two runways, 5086 feet and 4800 feet long respectively. No tower, but I doubt that’s unusual in most places in Alaska. At least the runways are paved!

If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend the series “Flying Wild Alaska“. It was on the Discovery Channel for three years and I really enjoyed watching it. It was a hoot watching the Tweto family and their family of Era Alaska employees fly around through fall, winter, spring, and summer. (They apparently don’t have a regular route to Iliamna, though.) It really gave a good idea of what bush flying is all about and how critical general aviation is to just maintaining the basic necessities of modern life in a state bigger than Texas where there are fewer paved roads than in some counties down in the lower forty-eight. I’ll admit, sometimes they got all “reality TV” on you, building up some relatively minor thing (like a go-around) into a huge crisis. But there were plenty of other times when I was watching folks try to land on an ice runway in a Caravan or twin Otter with a fifty-knot cross wind in instrument conditions and I had nothing but total respect for the pilots who can do that!

Garlic – Yeah, yeah, yeah, world’s healthiest food, blah, blah, blah, whatever. Out here on the west coast, if you’ve been anywhere near the Bay Area or driven from LA to San Jose, you know about Gilroy, which bills itself as the “Garlic Capital of the World”. Going west on California Route 152, up over the coastal mountains from I-5, past the San Luis Reservoir and Pacheco State Park, you can smell the garlic ten miles before you get into town.

But today Google randomly led me to the Hudson Valley Garlic Festival, which seems to be the east coast equivalent of Gilroy. And it’s coming up on September 28th and 29th! Serendipity Rears Its Ugly Head Yet Again! Food, drinks, musicians (including Captain Squeeze and the Zydeco Moshers!), games for the kids, and more! What’s not to love? And really, I say that sincerely, because if I were in the area and didn’t have other more pressing plans, I would be there because that all sounds wonderful.

Except for the Morris dancers. I never knew of Morris dancers or Morris dancing until I heard Stan Rogers talk about it on his live album, “Home In Halifax“. Track six, you know the one I’m talking about.

Wait, what? You don’t know who Stan Rogers is? Please go and instantaneously (or sooner) listen and learn to love all of his albums, then come back. We’ll wait…

OK, now that you know why you need to beware of the Morris dancers (WARNING – this link will take you to a video that shows that every horrible and terrifying thing said about them is true) and you have a deep and abiding love of Stan Rogers’ music, go and have a great time at the Hudson Valley Garlic Festival (New York State Thruway exit #20, mile marker 101).

Say hello to Captain Squeeze for me!

Trailer – A word with two major meanings so Google either gives me a place to rent or buy something to haul behind my car or lets me look at upcoming movies. Rather than pick any one movie or television show trailer, I want to do a mini-rant about the movie trailer art form in general and one old one and one new one in particular.

First of all, I love movie trailers. I think that it’s brilliant how someone can take a couple dozen tiny little clips of a movie that lasts two hours and get you in the mood to plop down hard-earned cash to see the film when it comes out. I also think it’s extremely clever how some people in this day and age can mess with trailers and re-cut them to be for a completely different mood. The first one of these I remember seeing was a faux trailer for “The Shining” done as a romantic comedy, but just this week I saw another great one for “Monty Python & The Holy Grail” done as a serious medieval battle flick.

However, this is a power that can be used for evil as well as for good. In 2001 there was a trailer that is on my short list for the best ever made. It made me want to see a movie so bad it hurt. I had tears in my eyes every time I saw the trailer. Looking at all of the pictures of planes and incredible flying, I just wanted to let all of that flying SPFX wonderfulness just swallow me up and surround me for two hours. I knew that “Pearl Harbor” was going to be spectacular! Um, yeah, that “Pearl Harbor”. The one that turned out to be a film that I could barely sit through, one of the worst movies I had seen in years. Still a fantastic trailer, but a good example of a trailer that is 1000% better than the film it advertises.

Now, everywhere I look at the theater, online, or on television, there are new trailers for “Gravity“, which opens in the US on October 4th. They are all intense, gripping, spectacular, amazing, utterly terrifying, and I haven’t wanted to see a movie this badly since the original “Lord of the Rings” films first came out. I really, Really, REALLY want to see this film! I keep seeing comments from NASA folk and science fiction people who have seen sneak previews, and every single one of them says that it’s one of the most spectacular thing that they’ve ever seen.

I hope so. I need it. I couldn’t take another “Pearl Harbor”.

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KVNY (Van Nuys)

A few miles due east of where I live is Van Nuys Airport. It’s one of my “happy places”. I took my first flying lessons there. They have airshows there. It’s the subject of one of the best documentaries I’ve ever seen, “One Six Right“. (Highly, HIGHLY recommended!) Sometimes the best thing of all is that Van Nuys Airport has a wonderful public viewing area where you can go and just watch planes take off and land. I used to do that a lot at lunch time when my office was just a couple of miles away.

These pictures are from December 22, 2006, and it’s obvious that the Santa Ana winds were blowing and something was burning.

IMG_7525_smallThe legendary tower.

IMG_7570_smallA lot of big business jets fly out of Van Nuys, like this Gulfstream 1159A that’s registered to a Hollywood production company.

IMG_7552_smallA lot of little guys fly out of Van Nuys, like this newer Cirrus SR-22.

IMG_7541_smallOr this Navion G that had just arrived.

IMG_7482_smallWe (the little guys) often end up on 16L/34R to leave 16R/34L to the big guys. No worries. The viewing area is right next to the 16L/34R runway, so you get your best views of those planes.

IMG_7531_smallChannel 5’s helicopter was leaving. They now have a new helicopter, which flies out of Whiteman.

IMG_7529_smallChannel 7’s helicopter heading out toward Simi Valley. A lot of the LA area news helicopters fly out of Van Nuys (and Whiteman, which is nearby in Pacoima).

IMG_7493_smallChannel 11’s helicopter landing, next to one of the big Sky Cranes that they use for fighting brush fires.

IMG_7488_smallTwo of the big Canadian water bombers…

IMG_7486_small…are often based at Van Nuys for the brush fire months.

IMG_7509_smallThe fact that they were both going somewhere in a hurry…

IMG_7502_small…probably meant that someone somewhere in Southern California was having a bad day.

If you’re in the San Fernando Valley and you’ve got a couple of hours to kill between sunrise and sunset, go visit. There’s a play area for the kids, benches for the adults, and some picnic tables if you want to bring lunch. It’s a happy place!

 

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St. Louis Balloon Events Coming Up!

A few years back, when my son was stationed at Scott AFB in southern Illinois, I had a chance to go to the Great Forest Park Balloon Race while I was visiting him. This year’s event is coming up in about ten days, September 20th and 21st, and I would highly recommend it if you’re in that part of the world.

Forest Park is a wonderful, huge, centrally-located park in St. Louis with tons of room and sites for for walking, jogging, picnics, parties, concerts, boating, tennis, golf, and the world-famous St. Louis Zoo. The St. Louis area has an excellent public transit system and you can get to the park from a number of subway stops.

On the night before the balloon race, the park is filled with balloons for the “Glow”. It’s spectacular, don’t miss it! Lots of food and bands and fun stuff all around, but as dusk falls they start firing up the propane burners.

20130909-201154.jpgHundreds of hot air balloons start to fill and bob across the park.

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20130909-201342.jpgThe balloons are all anchored down so they’re not taking off. (Not until race time the next day!) You just get to stroll around among them, like being in canyons of multi-colored skyscrapers.

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You can spend hours eating, talking to the balloon pilots and crews, listening to music, and reveling in the festival atmosphere, while all around you there’s the occasional roar of a propane jet and all of the balloons glowing like ginormous Japanese lanterns.

20130909-202337.jpgWhen we went (about five years ago) the event was free to the public (you pay for food & drinks, of course). This is my idea of a wonderful family outing or date night. If you get the opportunity (or if there’s something similar in your area some time), take it!

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Our Personal Airshow

Our house is about ten miles out in a straight line from Burbank Airport’s Runway 08, which is usually the primary runway being used for landings. That means that we get these coming overhead pretty much all day:

IMG_0017_smallYour all-purpose Southwest Airlines 737 – we see dozens and dozens a day. Some of the airlines also use Airbus 320s and you’ll still see a few MD80s. But a LOT of 737s.

IMG_8998_smallAlso smaller regional jets, such as the CRJ7.

We tend not to really be bothered by noise from these guys, since they’re still up at 5,000 to 6,000 feet as they come over. (When I’m practicing maneuvers at 3,500 to 5,000 feet over Simi Valley, THEN I get to keep my eyes peeled for them, just in case. ATC is supposed to keep them above and away, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.)

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IMG_9538_smallWhen I hear these guys coming, I’ll grab the camera and head for the yard. The “Condor Squadron” flys a group of WWII-era “Texan” trainers out of Van Nuys, usually in formation. They’ll do flyovers of ball games, parades, and other events, and sometimes they’re just up to practice. With a group of those big radial engines growling, they’re easy to hear from a ways away.

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IMG_9446_smallAbout once a year Aluminum Overcast comes into Van Nuys for a couple of days. She’s a gorgeous B-17 owned by the EAA. Someday it would be great to get a ride in her when she’s here.

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IMG_5893_smallThe Liberty Foundation also has a fantastic B-17 that shows up about once a year, Memphis Belle. She’s not the original, legendary aircraft with that name, the one that the 1990 movie was about. That original aircraft is being restored at the National Museum of the US Air Force in Dayton, Ohio. This however is the aircraft that was used in the filming of the movie, and she continues to carry the name.

With the B-17’s, the noise also can be heard coming for miles and miles. With those four big radials they’re just like a flight of Texans all on their own. When they make their flights out of Van Nuys or Burbank they generally fly about a half-hour loop out over the Malibu coast and back. The leg back to either airport almost always takes them directly over our house and they’ll do flights all day long, so about every forty to forty-five minutes they’ll be back. It gives me lots of opportunities to watch, dream, and get pictures.

You’ve got to love “the sound of round”!

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Visit To Virgin Galactic

Today there was a job fair in Mojave put on by Virgin Galactic and The Spaceship Company. Obviously both of these companies are on the short list of places that I would get to work at only in my wildest dreams. But I really do have those dreams and they have the jobs, so I hustled on up there to say “Howdy!”, drop a resume, and charm someone with my elevator pitch.

We’ll see if anything comes of it (I’m eternally optimistic, but I’m not looking at rentals in the high desert just yet), but meanwhile our hosts were nice enough to put their current projects on display out on the ramp for us.

20130907-190643.jpgBehold, the current spaceships of Virgin Galactic! On the left is WhiteKnightTwo, the first of the Virgin Motherships, christened VMS Eve, named after company founder Sir Richard Branson’s mother. On the right is the first SpaceShipTwo, which had its second powered test flight just last Thursday, reaching 69,000 feet after a twenty-second engine burn.

20130907-190726.jpgA slightly closer view of the WhiteKnightTwo. In the center of the wing you can see the attachment point where the SpaceShipTwo is held while it’s taken up to about 50,000 feet before being dropped for launch.

20130907-190810.jpgThe WhiteKnightTwo design is the largest all carbon composite aircraft ever built. Eventually it is anticipated that there will be several of these built to launch suborbital flights from multiple sites around the world.

20130907-190852.jpgUp close and personal with the SpaceShipTwo. Notice that there is no front wheel – a skid is used instead.

20130907-190907.jpgA view of the port side of SpaceShipTwo. Eventually it is expected that dozens (if not more) SpaceShipTwos will be built, taking tourists, experiments, and other paying customers on suborbital trips. The turnaround time between trips for any given ship is expected to be hours instead of months, allowing many more flights and a much less expensive cost than all previous spacecraft.

20130907-190940.jpgThe starboard side of SpaceShipTwo. I was surprised to see how small the landing gear wheels are.

All in all it was a great opportunity to see some cutting edge aviation and spacecraft hardware. The only way it could be better is if I’m able to join the team building and flying them. Let’s hope that can work out – they have my number!

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Solo

Dang, that’s a long drive! About 400 miles each way and the A/C died on the way up on Monday.

Random thoughts that actually connect (I think):

  • Driving alone, I get to listen to my music and turn it up REAL LOUD (especially when the windows are open to avoid dying from heat stroke)
  • There’s a lot of time to think with six hours on the road
  • When I get clear of the trucks and “rolling roadblocks” I push it to “maximum freeway speed” in order to keep the drive time to a minimum
  • I wasn’t so much driving real fast as I was flying real low
  • It would have been faster if I were flying, although my cargo load is better in the minivan
  • Solo + flying + thinking + really, really tired = pictures (taken with my camera by my flight instructor) of my first solo flights on December 14, 2007:

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First solo landing

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Third solo landing

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Exhilarated!

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Achievement unlocked, although I have no clue what took that divot out of my hair. The flight school office staff and my instructor then cut my shirt off, drew on it, and hung it on the wall. I guess it’s a tradition.

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