Well, Mikey has pretty much told the story of our trip to the Northwest and we?ve related the Pilgrimage to Van?s. LOE has been pretty well covered by others (a most enjoyable time!), so about all I can contribute is a few pictures that I slid of my camera this afternoon. The return from Oregon took two days, with an off day in the middle to enjoy the fun at Santa Teresa, and the two days could hardly have been more different.
After fighting the weather for two days getting from Nevada to the Oregon coast, the days sent there in the northwest were almost anticlimactic. The skies were clear for two days of flying and visiting, and then we had a nice day to relax because the fog never really left the area. (A rugged sea coast in the fog has a very cozy and homey feel for me ? reminds me of my youth spent running dive trips on Lake Superior.) My only concern was that the forecast was for more fog on Friday morning, and if it did what it did on Thursday, hanging around until mid-afternoon, then LOE was going to be very short for us! Because we?d lost a day on the journey up, we were ready to have this happen (as disappointing as it would have been), but it would have made the trip home much more rushed. Still ? looking at the forecasts before bed on Thursday night, I told our relatives that we probably would have a relaxed morning when we woke, as it would be unlikely we?d get out before 1100 or so.
Imagine my surprise when I woke with the sunrise, staring through the large windows at blue skies over the trees! While we didn?t want to rush anyone, we sure didn?t want to miss a launch window off the coast, especially since the rest of the way to Texas was clear as a bell. The in-laws were understanding, and we were soon on our way to the airport for an 0930 departure. Fog in the valleys made for beautiful views crossing the valleys of the Coastal Ranges.
Our first real tailwind in quite awhile freshened as we climbed, and before we knew it, we were settled in at 11.5K, headed for the desolate town of Wells, Nevada ? a few miles north of a direct line, but the fuel was reputed to be cheap. (At any case, we?d seen enough of Winnemucca, and decided not to tempt fate with another stop in that fair city. Two nights of ?Stucka in Winnemucca? were enough for one trip?)
Wells did not disappoint when it came to desolate. A small town on the freeway, two runways laid out on the arid plane, and the smallest FBO I?d ever seen ? it must have been a Photomat Booth in an earlier incarnation, but it had a restroom, phone, flight planning desk ? everything you?d need in about 60 square feet. Nothing flashy, but who needs flash ? we weren?t planning on sticking around!
It was my leg to fly as we lifted off of Wells, headed for St. John, Arizona. It sure was nice to fly a day of ?only? 1100 miles, instead of the 1650 from Houston to Oregon the weekend before. Going to El Paso seemed like a short jaunt in comparison. My leg was a vault across the great ?Basin and Range? (or ?Horst und Gravens?, as Louise pointed out was the name given by the German geologists that named the phenomenon) of the western US. A slight detour to the west to avoid a restricted area that went from 200 AGL to 55,000? msl (yeah, that looked good to avoid!) didn?t add much to the overall distance, and set us up or a great pass over Page, the upstream end of the Grand Canyon region.
The topography was nothing short of amazing, and the camera does not do the pastel colors justice. While still over Nevada, I had fun watching the autopilot deal with the mountain wave coming of the ranges ? we?d be cruising along normally, then fly in to sink. The speed would slowly decay as the Tru Trak held its assigned altitude, once slowing to 85 knots. Then we?d fly out of the sink and into some lift, and the speed would go the other way, topping out at about 185 knots TAS before settling back down to the normal cruise speed of about 165. It was a way to pass the time?.
St. John?s ramp was being used by the local constabulary for some sort of training exercise when we arrives, with flashing lights and lots of harsh voices on the bullhorns that sounded deadly serious. Once I determined that we were not the targets of the commands, fueling was quick, and it was my turn to snooze as Louise took us on down to the El Paso area. I had never flown this route before, and was surprised at just how forbidding the Gila Wilderness was. It was not as arid as the basin and range nor was it as mountainous. But at least up there, you had dry lake beds or dirt roads to land on if you had to. This mountainous, tree-covered area offered pretty much no place to go if you had a problem. It was actually quite comforting to see the valley of the Rio Grande come in to view ? and not just because the day?s flying was almost over!
Louise set us down at Dona Anna just as the Friday beer call was wrapping up ? fortunately, Rosie had safeguarded one, and exchanged it for the Diet Coke in my hand without me immediately noticing. The rest of LOE went by in a very nice, lazy way. Yes, it was smaller than previous years, but that just meant we got to spend a little more time with our friends. Even the banquet had a little more intimate feel to it on Saturday night. When that was done, we headed to the hotel to take another look at the weather across Texas, because it looked like our blue-sky VFR flying was over.
After fighting the weather for two days getting from Nevada to the Oregon coast, the days sent there in the northwest were almost anticlimactic. The skies were clear for two days of flying and visiting, and then we had a nice day to relax because the fog never really left the area. (A rugged sea coast in the fog has a very cozy and homey feel for me ? reminds me of my youth spent running dive trips on Lake Superior.) My only concern was that the forecast was for more fog on Friday morning, and if it did what it did on Thursday, hanging around until mid-afternoon, then LOE was going to be very short for us! Because we?d lost a day on the journey up, we were ready to have this happen (as disappointing as it would have been), but it would have made the trip home much more rushed. Still ? looking at the forecasts before bed on Thursday night, I told our relatives that we probably would have a relaxed morning when we woke, as it would be unlikely we?d get out before 1100 or so.
Imagine my surprise when I woke with the sunrise, staring through the large windows at blue skies over the trees! While we didn?t want to rush anyone, we sure didn?t want to miss a launch window off the coast, especially since the rest of the way to Texas was clear as a bell. The in-laws were understanding, and we were soon on our way to the airport for an 0930 departure. Fog in the valleys made for beautiful views crossing the valleys of the Coastal Ranges.
Our first real tailwind in quite awhile freshened as we climbed, and before we knew it, we were settled in at 11.5K, headed for the desolate town of Wells, Nevada ? a few miles north of a direct line, but the fuel was reputed to be cheap. (At any case, we?d seen enough of Winnemucca, and decided not to tempt fate with another stop in that fair city. Two nights of ?Stucka in Winnemucca? were enough for one trip?)
Wells did not disappoint when it came to desolate. A small town on the freeway, two runways laid out on the arid plane, and the smallest FBO I?d ever seen ? it must have been a Photomat Booth in an earlier incarnation, but it had a restroom, phone, flight planning desk ? everything you?d need in about 60 square feet. Nothing flashy, but who needs flash ? we weren?t planning on sticking around!
It was my leg to fly as we lifted off of Wells, headed for St. John, Arizona. It sure was nice to fly a day of ?only? 1100 miles, instead of the 1650 from Houston to Oregon the weekend before. Going to El Paso seemed like a short jaunt in comparison. My leg was a vault across the great ?Basin and Range? (or ?Horst und Gravens?, as Louise pointed out was the name given by the German geologists that named the phenomenon) of the western US. A slight detour to the west to avoid a restricted area that went from 200 AGL to 55,000? msl (yeah, that looked good to avoid!) didn?t add much to the overall distance, and set us up or a great pass over Page, the upstream end of the Grand Canyon region.
The topography was nothing short of amazing, and the camera does not do the pastel colors justice. While still over Nevada, I had fun watching the autopilot deal with the mountain wave coming of the ranges ? we?d be cruising along normally, then fly in to sink. The speed would slowly decay as the Tru Trak held its assigned altitude, once slowing to 85 knots. Then we?d fly out of the sink and into some lift, and the speed would go the other way, topping out at about 185 knots TAS before settling back down to the normal cruise speed of about 165. It was a way to pass the time?.
St. John?s ramp was being used by the local constabulary for some sort of training exercise when we arrives, with flashing lights and lots of harsh voices on the bullhorns that sounded deadly serious. Once I determined that we were not the targets of the commands, fueling was quick, and it was my turn to snooze as Louise took us on down to the El Paso area. I had never flown this route before, and was surprised at just how forbidding the Gila Wilderness was. It was not as arid as the basin and range nor was it as mountainous. But at least up there, you had dry lake beds or dirt roads to land on if you had to. This mountainous, tree-covered area offered pretty much no place to go if you had a problem. It was actually quite comforting to see the valley of the Rio Grande come in to view ? and not just because the day?s flying was almost over!
Louise set us down at Dona Anna just as the Friday beer call was wrapping up ? fortunately, Rosie had safeguarded one, and exchanged it for the Diet Coke in my hand without me immediately noticing. The rest of LOE went by in a very nice, lazy way. Yes, it was smaller than previous years, but that just meant we got to spend a little more time with our friends. Even the banquet had a little more intimate feel to it on Saturday night. When that was done, we headed to the hotel to take another look at the weather across Texas, because it looked like our blue-sky VFR flying was over.
