We tour the skies

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We finally had a sunny morning, so we used it for an early flight to see the spring water tumbling over Palouse Falls, a 30 minute flight from Richland. This was Jan's first flight in our new motorglider (we usually call it an "airplane" so we don't confuse it with the other motorglider we still own), and the third Phoenix she's flown it. She's still impressed with how fast it gets off the ground - it's a rocket, for sure.

I'd show you a picture of the Falls, but I didn't think to go down very low, so the pictures of it are pathetically small. Getting low is not something a glider pilot thinks about doing.

The electricians finished their work yesterday, so the hangar complex has power everywhere. The door to our hangar is functioning, and the drywall is painted. It's the only one with all the interior sides covered in drywall, thanks to it's central location that requires a firewall.

Most of the doors are working, but the city wants a few things modified before they'll issue an occupancy permit. It's going to be close, but it might still happen this month!

So, what'cha doing while you wait for the hangar to be finished?

I'm flying the Phoenix every day the weather permits (i.e., light winds and no rain), primarily to improve my landing skills, the hardest part of the transition from sailplanes to a touring motorglider. The landings since I got home - about 17 - have been smooth and consistent, so now it's time to fly in somewhat stronger winds, particularly for crosswind landings, because the wind does not always blow straight down the runway.

One other skill remains to be learned: landing with the engine stopped. This is something even airplane pilots learn, though, of course, they have no intention of stopping the engine (emergencies happen!). Since a motorglider is intended soar like a bird, stopping the engine is normal operation, and because there is no guarantee it will start later on (maybe hours later), the pilot must be good at landing with the engine stopped.

I have flown with other Phoenix pilots in soaring conditions, and with Jim Lee, the dealer, in my Phoenix while in Florida. This picture shows where we climbed above the clouds on rising air with the engine stopped. Note how the propeller blade is "feathered" (twisted to align with the air, reducing drag).

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The hangar isn't finished! What's Plan B?

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 We had to tie the Phoenix outside when we got home Wednesday night, because the new set of T-hangars ("T" refers to the floorplan). They are close to done, but still need the siding for the doors (as you can see); the electrical work is just more than half done. The doors need the hydraulic system flushed, pumped up, and the 7 foot long cylinders connected (two per door) to the doors.

Parking outside isn't a good idea for a finely finished composite aircraft, so Thursday, Russ and I looked for hangar space.

• Plan B was a fellow EAA (Experimental Aircraft Association) member's hangar, but it wasn't big enough to hold the Phoenix without removing the wings entirely 
• Plan C was to borrow space in the former DHL hangar where the Viper Aircraft people have a small repair and production facility, but there was too much sanding dust and fiberglass fibers flying around from their work.
• Plan D was another friend's hangar that had enough space, but involved too much rearranging of other planes, equipment, and furniture (a home away from home) to make it worthwhile for the couple weeks I needed it
• Plan E  was to move into the uncompleted new hangar before they were finished, but that was scuttled by the need for an occupancy permit from the City. No chance of that until it was really done and inspected
• Plan F - ask Cliff of Sundance Aviation is he knew of any uncuppied hangar space. He made a couple of calls, and Bingo! He found a T-hangar that was empty to the end of the month, and now the Phoenix has shelter in hangar #5.

After that, Russ and I went flying, then placed the Phoenix in the hangar.

Home at last!

The night before, we decided to get an earlier start than usual, hoping we could get to Richland, WA, at least an hour before sunset. While the Phoenix is equipped for night flying, everything is easier and safer in the daylight. We arranged to be picked up at 8 AM at the motel, and Russ set the alarm on his phone for 7 AM.

When I woke up in the morning, my watch showed 7:10 AM. Yikes! We overslept - except I couldn't imagine sleeping through Russ's phone alarm, so I checked my phone: it showed 6:10 AM. I couldn't quite accept that, so I used my iPad to ask Google "what time is it in page az", and Google responded - 6:11 AM! Ah, right - Arizona is on Pacific time, not Mountain time. Russ didn't catch that, either.

New Rule: ask the first person we see after landing for the time.

We did get an early start, taking off in sunny, cool, and calm conditions, aiming for Ely, NV, as our first stop. That's 246 miles, taking about 2:20 hours with the light headwinds we encountered. Here's the track, produced by my Delorme inReach GPS tracker that uses the Iridium satellite phone network to send it's coordinates every 10 minutes:

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You can also look at the all the tracks for the entire trip (and future tracks) on the inReach website:

https://share.delorme.com/EricGreenwell

The landscape is a mostly uninhabited desert with some mountain ranges, but with a certain grandeur. We flew most of it at an altitude 10,500' MSL (means "above sea level") or about 4,500' above the ground, except when crossing mountain ranges. I need to retrieve my camera from the Phoenix before I can show you what it looks like - tomorrow, maybe I'll remember, and update this page.

I refueled the plane after we landed at Ely while Russ took borrowed a pickup to get some things from his motorhome that he left parked a couple miles from the airport after the soaring season ended last year. Soon we were on our way, now with Mountain Home, ID, as the likely landing place for refueling, stretching, and other personal needs. The Phoenix actually had enough fuel to get to Richland (plus an extra hour), but stronger than forecast headwinds would eat into that margin, giving us the choice of yet another landing to add fuel (and it's delay, risking running out of daylight as we get near Richland), or having a smaller fuel reserve, making it harder to divert to another airport if unexpected poor weather or strong winds at home made it desirable to land elsewhere.

From Mountain Home, it was mostly smooth cruising in modest 10-15 mph headwinds, so we averaged 115-120 mph. Because the terrain is so much lower than the Page-Ely-Mountain Home legs of the flight, we flew at 8,500' MSL until we began to descend about 20 miles out of Richland.

And finally, we're home! Well, I'm home and the Phoenix is home, but Russ is still 940 miles from his home near San Diego, but we'll pop him onto an airliner for that part of the trip.

We had to tie down the plane on the ramp because the new set of hangars are still unfinished. Bummer! I signed up for a hangar last August, thinking I'd be paying a couple months rent before the Phoenix was ready, but apparenlty building a motorglider is more predictable than a set of hangars.

Finally, good weather

The short story:

We sleep in, get out to the airport by 9 am, chat with Bob, the fellow that runs the maintenance, flight training, and other services at the airport. By 10 AM, we've stuffed our bags into the Phoenix, take off, and head for Moriarty, NM, in clear blue skies.

The terrain is flat at first, but rises slowly, and becomes rugged. Easy flying in light headwinds at 8500", then 10,500 as we near Moriarty, elevation 6200".

I do a "go-around" when he first landing bounces too much; the second landing is good. We pull in and fuel. By then, a couple glider pilots we know have discovered us - Mark Mocho and Dan Marotta. Conversation enuses, we go to lunch, decide to skip the soaring museum to get to Page, AZ before it's too late in the evening.

Three hours of flying over unmostly uninhabited and unforgiving desert, we arrived at Page, AZ. The AWOS (automated weather station broadcasting conditions to aircraft radios) indicated a direct crosswind of of 8 knots, more than my experience, so I let Russ do the landing. 

We fueled, got a ride to a good motel in town, bought a couple salads to go and a bottle of wine at the nearby Walmart, retired to the motel room for our dinner, and went to bed. More later, maybe.

Get the heck out of Dodge

After a long, dreary day of thunder and rain in Minden, LA, we really hoped the Sunday evening forecast was correct, because we'd be able to leave town. We decided to get up an hour before sunrise (6 AM) to give us enough time to get breakfast, check the weather, and go to the airport early.

Well, we should've slept in. The storm left so much moisture, the ceilings (height of the cloud bottoms above ground) was less than 1000 feet for hundreds miles, probably due to the 2+" of rain dumped everywhere by the strom. We prepared the Phoenix anyway, expecting the ground and air to dry off some by early afternoon. 

About 12:30, that's what happened. We took off, heading for Gainesville, TX. It was low but not slow for the first 120 miles, with ceilings generally between 1800' and 2200" AGL (= "above ground level"). Gradually, conditions improved to 3000' AGL.

Two hours later, near Gainesville, our electronic map was showing a strong storm, or line of storms, moving to the southeast between us and Tucumcari, NM, our goal for the day. The storm is depicted in the middle of screen using colors: green = light rain, yellow = heavy rain, red = severe condiltions, with strong winds and likely hail.

At first, we considered landing short of the storm, waiting an hour or so for it to pass, then conitnuing, but it was too late in the day for that tactic. Soon, using the radar images (from ground based radar, radioed up to our instruments) we discovered a gap in the storm line. 

We changed course about 40 degrees, headng southwest. Now the problem was finding a suitable airport on west side of the strom that did not have the strong winds following fairly closely behind the storm.  "Suitable" means, in this case, low forecast winds, at least two runways should the forecast be wrong and the winds are strong (so we can choose one aligned with the wind), fuel, and a "courtesy car", so we can get to a motel. We had at least two hours more fuel than we needed, so a good outcome was not in dcoubt.

Sweetwater, TX, met all that criteria, though we investigated about ten airports ahead of us before settling on it. Four hours after leaving Minden, LA, we landed in calm winds. We filled the tanks, put the Phoenix in a hangar for the night, then took the courtesy car (a loaner from the airport operator) to a motel. Dinner was at a Texas barbeque restaurant with excellent brisket, ribs, and sausage.

That's Russ Owens on the left, my copilot and mentor, and the airport operator on the right.

Russ and Eric's Excellent Adventure

6:15 AM Sunday morning, I woke to hear distant thunder, or maybe pickup getting ready to leave the motel. A flicker of light made it clear it was thunder and not very distant. A quick check of the weather radar on my iPad showed a strong storm approaching; the National Weather Service forecast heavy rain and possibly dime size hail. Hail is not a pleasant forecast when your airplane is tied down outside.

The blue dot with the blue circle is our location - Minden, LA - and shows the weather later in the day, but not much different from the morning.

I woke Russ so we  could drive to the airport, where we might be able to move the Phoenix into one of the open hangars out there. It was still dark and raining when we went by the airport entry sign, and we didn't see it. Two miles later, I attempted to turn around at an intersection, but drove a couple feet off the pavement, putting the right front wheel in the ditch. Damn!

The truck was so tilted, the left rear wheel didin't have any traction. Standing on that corner didn't add enough weight; in fact, the wheel could almost be turned by hand. My phone didn't have a signal, even though it had a full signal at the airport, just two miles away. The nearby home had some vehicles in the driveway, but no lights, so I was reluctant to go knocking in the dim light and rain. 

Finally, lady on the way to church stopped to ask how we were. She tried to call on her cell phone ("I live close by and I have good service"), but it didn't have signal either. Finally, we decided Russ would stay with the truck, the lady would take me to the airport, and I'd contact an airport person. Once there, I talked to the airport manager. He was great, asking first if anyone was hurt, then if the truck was damaged, then said he'd have a tow truck come to the airport to get me. That was about 7:40 AM.

I stood in a hangar out of the wind and rain while waiting for the tow truck, peeking around the side to watch for it. Soon, a white Ford pickup appeared with it's yellow light (on top of the cab) blinking - it was Russ! A large pickup with a big rope and kind stranger had pulled him out of the ditch. Shortly after that, the tow truck operator drove up in a big SUV. Russ told him the situation, and he left; fortunately, he lives next to the airport and wasn't much inconvenieced.

By now, the airport lady that loaned us the truck showed up. She let us push the Phoenix into the nearest hangar with five other planes, but it was big enough we did not have to take off the wing tips. She also let us keep the truck, even after putting it in the ditch.

It's quite a comfort to have it in the hangar, knowing there are thunderstorms around with hail.

Russ huddles in his jacket, the plane and canopy cover are very wet, but we're glad the Excellent Adventure for the day has worked out well.

The tough get going

(This is a combined post for April 3, 4, and 5, in chronological order)

April 3: We hang around the motel, obssessing over the weathe; ultimately, we decided it's too uncertain, and give up.

April 4 (I'll catch up on this one later, as it was a really fun day, even though we just flew around the airport)

April 5: The strong front crossing Texas and threatened to bring hail to the Quincy, FL, area on Saturday suddenly dissipated overnight. The first 100 miles to the west had layers of scattered clouds,  broken clouds, and an overcast, but seemed likely to improve throughout the day. We decided continue our flight, knowing we might be working around the clouds and possibly not getting very far.

We took off in a light rain, hardly more than a sprinkle, but were surprised by some waterentering at the lowest point of the canopy, from between the canopy frame and the cockpit sill. A folded up paper on each side soaked up the water, and we were soon out of the rain. 

The first 100 miles was flown between 2000' and 3000' off the ground to remain clear of the clouds; eventually, the scattered and broken layers dissipated, and the over cast rose gradually, then also dissipated, leaving a clear, sunny sky.

Laurel, MS, was our first stop. Russ did the landing, as the crosswind exceeded my experience level. We filled the tanks with 9 gallons of fuel, not bad for 280 miles of travel, then got a ride to the nearby Hardees for lunch. Soon we were on our way towards Laurel, MS. The Mississippi River (below) has wandered for eons, and the ground showed it, with looping patterns in the flat terrain in both directions.

Nest stop - Minden! No, not Minden, NV, but Minden, LA. Most of this leg had a high overcast, so it was gloomy, but we easily cruised at 6500' MSL (height above sea level) and 110 knots (127 mph).

Another 10 gallons to fill the tanks (one in each wing), then we unloaded our gear, tied the Phoenix down, and headed for town in a Ford pickup borrowed from the airport business that sells fueil, does maintenance and related services (called an FBO - fixed base operator - in airport jargon).

Russ sorts through his baggage, hoping to get all the important stuff to the motel.

A pizza, some beer, and another motel. Time to go to bed!

Time to spare, go by air...

We had fog this morning, but that wasn't our problem; instead, it was the low ceilings to the west of us  for hundreds of miles. Typical reports were 1,500' broken clouds ( = mostly clouds with a few openings in them), 3000' scattered clouds, and 4000' overcast (heights are above ground level). As we waited for the day to warm and clear off some of the clouds, the winds increased as the cold front coming towards us from Texas brought higher winds with gusts over 35 mph in some places.

We fussed over the weather for hours, but finally gave up about 2 PM. Later, the winds backed off, suggesting it might have been worth continuing, but that was too late. So, one more night in Midway, FL, where the motel is, with the plane in a hangar at the Quincy airport, about 10 miles away. Tomorrow, we start over again, and hope the storm has tracked more northeasterly, so the weather here improves.

The Phoenix begins the trip home

We had a huge change in plans: I decided the original plan for Jan and I to fly the plane home was much to ambitious because I didn't have the training or experience for that kind of flight. It took a couple of weeks, flying with the dealer as weather permitted, for that to become clear.

How to get the Phoenix to it's new home in Richlan? Neither Jim nor John (his assistant) had the 4 or 5 days needed to make the trip until late April - early mail. Jim suggested another owner could make the trip with me, and immediately I thought of Russ Owens, a glider pilot I've know for years. Miraculously, he was free and eager to help.

One day later, he arrived in Melbourne at 1 pm, we packed our baggage into the Phoenix, and left about 4 pm, headed northwest. It was sunny skies, light winds, and the flight went well, except Russ's headset developed severe scratchiness that made contacting air traffic control a bit irritating.

 

We landed at a small airport near Quincy, FL, about 15 miles WSW of Tallahasse, FL.

 After some converstation with Doug, of the two or three pilots still hanging around, offered us a hangar for the Phoenix and a ride to town to a motel. Doug has quite a man cave!

It's now 11:09, Russ and I are both tired (Russ left San Diego at 10:45 pm last night), so it's bed time.