Polly Ranch, the airpark where we have now been living since last summer, is a fascinating place to land. With a paved surface just 22 feet wide and 3,000' long (with displaced thresholds making it 2700’ usable), it is plenty long but visually a bit challenging to those not used to landing on pavement narrower than their wingspan. Not to worry – it’s plenty wide for our 8 foot gear spread, but try telling that to yourself when the wind is blowing cross-wise, and alternately being blocked by houses and hangars as you roll down the runway. Obviously, you can get used to anything, but we are cautious about who we invite as first-time visitors! The fact that the shoulders are really only about 20 feet of grass on each side with a ditch and then hangars makes it more sporting yet. Now….try it at night!
I was coming back from dinner with Louise up in College Station (she works up there, commuting in her RV-6, and sometimes spends a few days in a row at her crash pad/condo) the other night. The moon was 5% waxing – in other words, the little sliver that was visible set about an hour after the sun went down. This made for a spectacularly dark night sky with lots and lots of city lights to enjoy on the 32 minute trip home. The lights got brighter and more numerous as I approached Houston and flew over the western precincts, then started to get dimmer as I moved out into the southern suburbs. Polly Ranch is also interesting in that it is surrounded by development – neighborhoods abound all around it, space that not so long ago was empty, but that now sports mid-range homes on large lots with just enough lights in the trees to make our runway blend in to the background…
With the clear space for the runway only about eighty feet wide, and trees in most back yards, the dozen or so runway lights on each side are quite visible as long as you are lined up with the centerline - either above it, or on either end. But get more than five degrees off, and the trees block a few lights, the house lights appear as bright as runway lights, and the net effect is that that straight stretch of welcoming pavement just…vanishes! Often-times, you find a runway by looking for the dark stretch – but that doesn’t work because the entire area is wooded enough that you get a random distribution of lights in a relatively dark area. Of course, finding the airstrip is no problem at all – everyone has a GPS these days, and you can easily end up directly over the middle of the field without trying. But as soon as you enter the pattern, you need “peripheral” landmarks to figure out where the pattern should be.
So….two miles out, I have the well-lit grocery store in sight, so I know where the runway is, because I can’t see it (!). Approaching on a 45 degree entry for the upwind, I know that when the GPS clicks down to 0.1 miles, I can turn to runway heading, and sure enough, there it is, just to the left. Crosswind brings the runway into full perspective, off the left wing, and I aim for the lighted cell tower that “anchors” the crosswind/downwind turn. A steep bank and a yank kills off 20 knots and puts me on downwind at flap speed, aimed for the cell tower that marks the downwind/base turn (darn useful these cell towers – as long as you stay above them...). The runway, of course, has vanished! This is a strange way to fly, sort of a hybrid visual/instrument world. I keep my eyes outside to maintain situational awareness, with just a glance inside to confirm speed and altitude. Crossing the major road below tells me it is time to turn base – aimed right for the final turn point – a Whataburger restaurant with it’s orange and white striped roof, nicely lit up, and open 24 hours a day! Flaps out in the turn, knobs forward, pumps … and the GUMP check is complete. As I cross over the “Whata-checkpoint”, a roll to final heading makes the runway appear like one of those magical posters where the dots suddenly coalesce into an image you hadn’t seen before. You have to be lined up to see that you’re lined up!
Down the final approach and into the inky black of a coal sack. There isn’t much light on the runway, as folks have mostly gone to bed, their hangars closed, no work-lights spilling out into the back yards. There’s no fancy VASI (no homebrewed one either!
) – You have to know your altitude over the road, and not get too low, or the trees will get you. The runway is much narrower than the lights would indicate – this is no place to try a night landing if you haven’t been here in the daytime. The RV’s constant speed prop allows a steep descent (to stay out of said trees), and the red lights indicating the threshold make a good aim point. Oh yes – it helps to know that the runway isn’t exactly centered between the lights – it’s offset a couple feet. But hey, we only have an 8 foot gear span – plenty of margin to stay on the asphalt! Finally, pavement appears in the landing lights, and the deep dark well gives way to something more familiar. The toughest part now is finding your home if you forgot to leave the back hangar light on!
The best part, of course, is that once we shut down, there’s no drive home – just the 20 feet to walk from the back of the hangar and into the house…. Another beautiful evening made possible by the magic of the RV.
I was coming back from dinner with Louise up in College Station (she works up there, commuting in her RV-6, and sometimes spends a few days in a row at her crash pad/condo) the other night. The moon was 5% waxing – in other words, the little sliver that was visible set about an hour after the sun went down. This made for a spectacularly dark night sky with lots and lots of city lights to enjoy on the 32 minute trip home. The lights got brighter and more numerous as I approached Houston and flew over the western precincts, then started to get dimmer as I moved out into the southern suburbs. Polly Ranch is also interesting in that it is surrounded by development – neighborhoods abound all around it, space that not so long ago was empty, but that now sports mid-range homes on large lots with just enough lights in the trees to make our runway blend in to the background…
With the clear space for the runway only about eighty feet wide, and trees in most back yards, the dozen or so runway lights on each side are quite visible as long as you are lined up with the centerline - either above it, or on either end. But get more than five degrees off, and the trees block a few lights, the house lights appear as bright as runway lights, and the net effect is that that straight stretch of welcoming pavement just…vanishes! Often-times, you find a runway by looking for the dark stretch – but that doesn’t work because the entire area is wooded enough that you get a random distribution of lights in a relatively dark area. Of course, finding the airstrip is no problem at all – everyone has a GPS these days, and you can easily end up directly over the middle of the field without trying. But as soon as you enter the pattern, you need “peripheral” landmarks to figure out where the pattern should be.
So….two miles out, I have the well-lit grocery store in sight, so I know where the runway is, because I can’t see it (!). Approaching on a 45 degree entry for the upwind, I know that when the GPS clicks down to 0.1 miles, I can turn to runway heading, and sure enough, there it is, just to the left. Crosswind brings the runway into full perspective, off the left wing, and I aim for the lighted cell tower that “anchors” the crosswind/downwind turn. A steep bank and a yank kills off 20 knots and puts me on downwind at flap speed, aimed for the cell tower that marks the downwind/base turn (darn useful these cell towers – as long as you stay above them...). The runway, of course, has vanished! This is a strange way to fly, sort of a hybrid visual/instrument world. I keep my eyes outside to maintain situational awareness, with just a glance inside to confirm speed and altitude. Crossing the major road below tells me it is time to turn base – aimed right for the final turn point – a Whataburger restaurant with it’s orange and white striped roof, nicely lit up, and open 24 hours a day! Flaps out in the turn, knobs forward, pumps … and the GUMP check is complete. As I cross over the “Whata-checkpoint”, a roll to final heading makes the runway appear like one of those magical posters where the dots suddenly coalesce into an image you hadn’t seen before. You have to be lined up to see that you’re lined up!
Down the final approach and into the inky black of a coal sack. There isn’t much light on the runway, as folks have mostly gone to bed, their hangars closed, no work-lights spilling out into the back yards. There’s no fancy VASI (no homebrewed one either!
) – You have to know your altitude over the road, and not get too low, or the trees will get you. The runway is much narrower than the lights would indicate – this is no place to try a night landing if you haven’t been here in the daytime. The RV’s constant speed prop allows a steep descent (to stay out of said trees), and the red lights indicating the threshold make a good aim point. Oh yes – it helps to know that the runway isn’t exactly centered between the lights – it’s offset a couple feet. But hey, we only have an 8 foot gear span – plenty of margin to stay on the asphalt! Finally, pavement appears in the landing lights, and the deep dark well gives way to something more familiar. The toughest part now is finding your home if you forgot to leave the back hangar light on!The best part, of course, is that once we shut down, there’s no drive home – just the 20 feet to walk from the back of the hangar and into the house…. Another beautiful evening made possible by the magic of the RV.
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