DakotaHawk
Well Known Member
Fall usually comes early and hard to the Pacific NW. The temps start dropping and the rain moves in for the next eight months. Washington is known for the constant drizzle and drip and the unending low clouds. On the other hand, Washington is also known for some of the most beautiful, crystal blue skies. The Washington version of the Sisters (Mt Baker, Mt Rainier, Mt St Helens, and Mt Hood) poke up in a straight line along the Cascade Range. Snow tops the mountains even in mid-summer, and the snow line gradually reaches down to the lower elevations as the winter months set in.
Today had a mix - scattered low lying clouds topped by clear blue skies above. A light breeze was blowing in from the coast, but it was steady, only about 10mph, and definitely flyable.
I have been thinking about flying the Olympic Peninsula loop for months, and today seemed to be the right time. My wife is visiting family in Oregon. My son has school, and I've got 35 gallons of gas, bought and paid for (well, on the credit card anyway)! After plugging in a couple of points into the GPS, I launched in the early afternoon.
I haven't flown on my autopilot since returning from Oshkosh, so as soon as I got on my track, I engaged Otto, plugged in the iTunes, and acted like a passenger for the next two hours.
The route I chose was the counter-clockwise route around the Olympica Peninsula, so my first way-point was the Straits of Juan de Fuca. The Straits separate the NW corner of the US from the SW corner of Canada.
Looking over my shoulder, I could see Mt Rainier peaking out beyond the Olympic range.
Thin tendrils of wispy fog lay in the foothills below. Continuing my flight to the west, I can see a low layer of clouds building up offshore. I estimate that the layer will roll onshore at about the same time that I reach the coast. That's ok - I continue to press on.
My route takes me over land for most of my flight, but I want to see the shoreline, so I give Otto a break and take the stick. Sliding out to the north, I get a much prettier view. Almost at Cape Flattery, with Vancouver BC off my right wing tip and Sekiu airport11S under my left wing, my GPS shows that I'm only moments away from the northwestern most tip of the continental United States. In political terms, I'm as far left as I can get!
Rounding the point of Cape Flattery, I point the nose south and head for Copalis Beach. The wave action I could see so far has been minimal. Flying at 6500' above the forests below don't give a lot of visual detail.
But the ocean swells pack a bigger punch, and the white lines of the waves swirl in a confused dance toward the shore.
The ocean clouds are rolling in underneath me as I fly over Copalis Beach. This is a state managed beach in a wildlife reserve, and the only beach in Washington where planes can legally land on the sand! I've never landed here, but I would like to in the future. The sand packs down almost as hard as pavement. Planes land in the wet sand right above the waterline. On a nice summer day, there may be dozens of planes parked on the hardpack sand beach.
Turning inland at Hoquiem, I can see Mt Rainier again in the distance. It's probably about 100 miles or so to the ESE. With less hostile terrain below, I dip down to a lower altitude in preparation for slipping beneath Seattle's Class B airspace.
The Olympics are still off of my left wing, but now they're to the North - I've circled almost all the way around the range. Passing over Bangor Sub Base and the Hood Canal Bridge, Whidbey Island and Camano Island, I can see Arlington airport ahead. Time to turn off the iTunes, wake up my feet in preparation for a 10kt crosswind landing on RWY 34, and get this baby back on the ground safely.
Today had a mix - scattered low lying clouds topped by clear blue skies above. A light breeze was blowing in from the coast, but it was steady, only about 10mph, and definitely flyable.
I have been thinking about flying the Olympic Peninsula loop for months, and today seemed to be the right time. My wife is visiting family in Oregon. My son has school, and I've got 35 gallons of gas, bought and paid for (well, on the credit card anyway)! After plugging in a couple of points into the GPS, I launched in the early afternoon.
I haven't flown on my autopilot since returning from Oshkosh, so as soon as I got on my track, I engaged Otto, plugged in the iTunes, and acted like a passenger for the next two hours.
The route I chose was the counter-clockwise route around the Olympica Peninsula, so my first way-point was the Straits of Juan de Fuca. The Straits separate the NW corner of the US from the SW corner of Canada.
Looking over my shoulder, I could see Mt Rainier peaking out beyond the Olympic range.
Thin tendrils of wispy fog lay in the foothills below. Continuing my flight to the west, I can see a low layer of clouds building up offshore. I estimate that the layer will roll onshore at about the same time that I reach the coast. That's ok - I continue to press on.
My route takes me over land for most of my flight, but I want to see the shoreline, so I give Otto a break and take the stick. Sliding out to the north, I get a much prettier view. Almost at Cape Flattery, with Vancouver BC off my right wing tip and Sekiu airport11S under my left wing, my GPS shows that I'm only moments away from the northwestern most tip of the continental United States. In political terms, I'm as far left as I can get!
Rounding the point of Cape Flattery, I point the nose south and head for Copalis Beach. The wave action I could see so far has been minimal. Flying at 6500' above the forests below don't give a lot of visual detail.
But the ocean swells pack a bigger punch, and the white lines of the waves swirl in a confused dance toward the shore.
The ocean clouds are rolling in underneath me as I fly over Copalis Beach. This is a state managed beach in a wildlife reserve, and the only beach in Washington where planes can legally land on the sand! I've never landed here, but I would like to in the future. The sand packs down almost as hard as pavement. Planes land in the wet sand right above the waterline. On a nice summer day, there may be dozens of planes parked on the hardpack sand beach.
Turning inland at Hoquiem, I can see Mt Rainier again in the distance. It's probably about 100 miles or so to the ESE. With less hostile terrain below, I dip down to a lower altitude in preparation for slipping beneath Seattle's Class B airspace.
The Olympics are still off of my left wing, but now they're to the North - I've circled almost all the way around the range. Passing over Bangor Sub Base and the Hood Canal Bridge, Whidbey Island and Camano Island, I can see Arlington airport ahead. Time to turn off the iTunes, wake up my feet in preparation for a 10kt crosswind landing on RWY 34, and get this baby back on the ground safely.
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