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#1
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Milky skies and crimson sunsets...
Tonight, after spending the last couple of days camping at a nearby lake, we
had to clean the hotel courtesy van and run a few other errands that had been blown off for too long. With temperatures hovering in the mid 90s, and the wind really blowing all day, no thoughts of flying had entered our minds... ....Until early evening, when the wind settled down and the sun hung over Iowa City like a crimson ember in the western sky. We use our hangar rather like a big storage shed for the hotel (it's only 30 seconds away), so while the kids lazed on the couch and Mary tidied up the kitchen area, I was struggling to fix a piece of lawn equipment. As I finally got the danged weed-whacker to work, it appeared to be "Beer-thirty" -- when suddenly Atlas beckoned to me from across the hangar. It was almost as if he was teasing me, saying "Sure, you can have that stupid beer -- but *then* you can't fly me!" Beer could wait. Without a second thought I asked Mary if she'd like to go find some cool air with me, and I didn't have to ask twice. The kids mowled a bit, but they were slowly wilting in the heat, and the thought of the crisp, cool air at 3500 feet was too inviting, even for them. So we were soon pulling Atlas from his lair, and saddling up for an early evening sunset flight. The air was thick and still as we taxied out. There were two students on downwind, somewhere, while Mary did her run-up. It seems that the patterns always get bigger in the evenings, and these guys were apparently training to fly the heavy metal, cuz Mary was able to taxi to the runway, do her run-up, run through her checklist, and have everything ready for flight before Student #1 was even turning base. With plenty of room to spare, Mary took the runway, right across from the Inn, and we departed smoothly into an absolutely milky sky. Atlas was on rails as we climbed out at half his normal rate of climb, with full tanks and four on board. I was silently happy for those 235 horses, as we had done this too many times with the 150 horse Warrior, and those businesses at the end of Rwy 25 looked a LOT farther away now than they used to! Aiming south, for no particular reason, we loosely followed the 4-lane highway that connects Iowa City to nearby Washington, Iowa. Winds aloft were clearly high, as our ground speed fell into the 115 knot range, indicating a 25 knot wind squarely on the nose -- but you would never have known it. The airframe never so much as shuddered, and there was almost no sense of motion as we slowly climbed out over the vast corn and bean fields of rural Iowa, stretching to the horizon.... Suddenly, and without a burble, we broke out on top of the haze layer into crystal clear blue sky at the strikingly low altitude of 2500 feet (about 1700 AGL). Usually by evening the haze layer is up around 6500 feet, so this was a pleasant surprise. Up there, the sun was still brilliant, and visibility was a million miles in every direction -- you just couldn't see much of anything on the ground. It was not quite a fog layer, and not really a cloud layer, but the air was cool and clean and all was right with the world as we droned on in silence. Coming into the pattern at Washington from a left base for Rwy 18, we slowly descended back into the murk, heading directly into the sun. Looking straight down I could see farms and homes, but straight ahead was an indefinite horizon with little dark bumps here and there that might be small towns or farms. It was a day to be thankful for GPS, and for our intimate knowledge of the local geography, as no one would want to be navigating by pilotage in such conditions by choice. With the Washington water tower ahead, we both knew our position precisely, and I was able to relax and evaluate the crops below. My family got out of farming over 120 years ago, and I wouldn't know a heifer from a longhorn, but after living in Iowa for 7 years I've developed an eye for corn, and it looks like the crop is doing well despite a fairly severe drought. I would say that a good, soaking rainfall will be critical in the next week or so, but -- for the moment -- you can almost see the corn grow. Everything as far as you can see, here in the World's Breadbasket, is emerald green, and it almost looks fake. On short final for 18, we were both struck with the effect of flying low over the nearly-hip-high corn fields, and how similar it was to flying over water. It was VERY difficult to judge altitude over the gently swaying corn, and Mary used the VASI to her advantage, with the end result being a smooth landing and roll out... Stopping in to grab a cold pop and look around, we were surprised to find a classroom full of folks in the FBO. Apparently they're running a ground school in little Washington, Iowa, and have managed to attract a classroom full of new aviation enthusiasts. With approving nods to all concerned, we headed back out onto the steamy ramp, the air absolutely still and thick with pollen and perfume, secure in the knowledge that more aviation addicts would be taking to the skies in a few months. But, for use, the sky beckoned now... Unfortunately, Atlas had other ideas. Our key starter switch has been acting goofy lately, with the "push-to-start" action only working for about a half turn of the prop. Normally, this is more than plenty, as our engine always starts on the first blade (when properly primed) but the combination of the brief stop and the hot temperatures left me unsure of how to go about priming that big ol' 6 cylinder engine. I figured it was clearly hot, and certainly didn't need a prime.... Wrong. I could only get a half-turn out of the prop at a time before the key switch would disengage, and the battery was starting to run down. With the sun now below the horizon, it was getting down to "do or die" time, when at last I found the proper key position to get the starter to engage -- and STAY engaged -- for several consecutive turns of the prop. In seconds I was able to get the big guy started, but only by ramming the throttle to the firewall. I had apparently flooded the engine, and we darned near ended up driving the courtesy car home... With the alternator pulling 65 amps (we initially popped the circuit breaker), we knew that it had been close -- we had nearly run our old battery dry. Taxiing out, I made a mental note to get that damned key starter replaced, and probably a new battery, too. But, with the digital amp meter slowly counting back down to the normal range, all thoughts of gloom were behind us as I climbed out into the milky white haze. Popping out on top it turned out that the sun hadn't really "set" at all, yet, but was merely obscured by the thick layer of almost-fog. We were suddenly in brilliant sunshine, arcing over a darkening, satiny landscape of almost magical appearance. Alas, the headwind had become a tailwind, and our flight back to Iowa City was short, but sweet. Descending back into that all-embracing velvety whiteness, I rounded the pattern as if on rails, without so much as a burble over the wings to make me move the yoke. Atlas touched down lightly, belying his stubby wings and beefy engine, and -- despite our close call -- I couldn't help but say a silent prayer of thanks for our good fortune. -- Jay Honeck Iowa City, IA Pathfinder N56993 www.AlexisParkInn.com "Your Aviation Destination" |
#2
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One of these days, Jay...
I'mmagonnagit me one er dem dang flying machines. Damn, I gotta get working on that dang trike! Bryan "The Monk" Chaisone |
#3
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I figured it was clearly hot, and
certainly didn't need a prime.... I'm told that the primer in our club dakota (pix coming soon) only primes three of the six cylenders, so you can't overprime. I prime every time now and have had no trouble starting. I've also found that (also in the Archers) there's a heasitation after half a blade, and then the starter continues and the engine starts. If I disengage the key and then reengage it, I get the same effect but without the battery drain and starter wear. Of course YMMV. Jose -- My other car is up my nose. for Email, make the obvious change in the address. |
#4
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Crimson SunSets.. Sun looks read from viewing through the smoke of local
fires caused by last nights lighting storms... cough cough.. choke choke... we had 7 fries around the valley, most are out, but a couple have grown in size... makes for IFR on the ILS.. can't see the runway 2 miles out when looking into the sun. BT "Jay Honeck" wrote in message news:IHLue.83645$_o.32369@attbi_s71... Tonight, after spending the last couple of days camping at a nearby lake, we had to clean the hotel courtesy van and run a few other errands that had been blown off for too long. With temperatures hovering in the mid 90s, and the wind really blowing all day, no thoughts of flying had entered our minds... ...Until early evening, when the wind settled down and the sun hung over Iowa City like a crimson ember in the western sky. We use our hangar rather like a big storage shed for the hotel (it's only 30 seconds away), so while the kids lazed on the couch and Mary tidied up the kitchen area, I was struggling to fix a piece of lawn equipment. As I finally got the danged weed-whacker to work, it appeared to be "Beer-thirty" -- when suddenly Atlas beckoned to me from across the hangar. It was almost as if he was teasing me, saying "Sure, you can have that stupid beer -- but *then* you can't fly me!" Beer could wait. Without a second thought I asked Mary if she'd like to go find some cool air with me, and I didn't have to ask twice. The kids mowled a bit, but they were slowly wilting in the heat, and the thought of the crisp, cool air at 3500 feet was too inviting, even for them. So we were soon pulling Atlas from his lair, and saddling up for an early evening sunset flight. The air was thick and still as we taxied out. There were two students on downwind, somewhere, while Mary did her run-up. It seems that the patterns always get bigger in the evenings, and these guys were apparently training to fly the heavy metal, cuz Mary was able to taxi to the runway, do her run-up, run through her checklist, and have everything ready for flight before Student #1 was even turning base. With plenty of room to spare, Mary took the runway, right across from the Inn, and we departed smoothly into an absolutely milky sky. Atlas was on rails as we climbed out at half his normal rate of climb, with full tanks and four on board. I was silently happy for those 235 horses, as we had done this too many times with the 150 horse Warrior, and those businesses at the end of Rwy 25 looked a LOT farther away now than they used to! Aiming south, for no particular reason, we loosely followed the 4-lane highway that connects Iowa City to nearby Washington, Iowa. Winds aloft were clearly high, as our ground speed fell into the 115 knot range, indicating a 25 knot wind squarely on the nose -- but you would never have known it. The airframe never so much as shuddered, and there was almost no sense of motion as we slowly climbed out over the vast corn and bean fields of rural Iowa, stretching to the horizon.... Suddenly, and without a burble, we broke out on top of the haze layer into crystal clear blue sky at the strikingly low altitude of 2500 feet (about 1700 AGL). Usually by evening the haze layer is up around 6500 feet, so this was a pleasant surprise. Up there, the sun was still brilliant, and visibility was a million miles in every direction -- you just couldn't see much of anything on the ground. It was not quite a fog layer, and not really a cloud layer, but the air was cool and clean and all was right with the world as we droned on in silence. Coming into the pattern at Washington from a left base for Rwy 18, we slowly descended back into the murk, heading directly into the sun. Looking straight down I could see farms and homes, but straight ahead was an indefinite horizon with little dark bumps here and there that might be small towns or farms. It was a day to be thankful for GPS, and for our intimate knowledge of the local geography, as no one would want to be navigating by pilotage in such conditions by choice. With the Washington water tower ahead, we both knew our position precisely, and I was able to relax and evaluate the crops below. My family got out of farming over 120 years ago, and I wouldn't know a heifer from a longhorn, but after living in Iowa for 7 years I've developed an eye for corn, and it looks like the crop is doing well despite a fairly severe drought. I would say that a good, soaking rainfall will be critical in the next week or so, but -- for the moment -- you can almost see the corn grow. Everything as far as you can see, here in the World's Breadbasket, is emerald green, and it almost looks fake. On short final for 18, we were both struck with the effect of flying low over the nearly-hip-high corn fields, and how similar it was to flying over water. It was VERY difficult to judge altitude over the gently swaying corn, and Mary used the VASI to her advantage, with the end result being a smooth landing and roll out... Stopping in to grab a cold pop and look around, we were surprised to find a classroom full of folks in the FBO. Apparently they're running a ground school in little Washington, Iowa, and have managed to attract a classroom full of new aviation enthusiasts. With approving nods to all concerned, we headed back out onto the steamy ramp, the air absolutely still and thick with pollen and perfume, secure in the knowledge that more aviation addicts would be taking to the skies in a few months. But, for use, the sky beckoned now... Unfortunately, Atlas had other ideas. Our key starter switch has been acting goofy lately, with the "push-to-start" action only working for about a half turn of the prop. Normally, this is more than plenty, as our engine always starts on the first blade (when properly primed) but the combination of the brief stop and the hot temperatures left me unsure of how to go about priming that big ol' 6 cylinder engine. I figured it was clearly hot, and certainly didn't need a prime.... Wrong. I could only get a half-turn out of the prop at a time before the key switch would disengage, and the battery was starting to run down. With the sun now below the horizon, it was getting down to "do or die" time, when at last I found the proper key position to get the starter to engage -- and STAY engaged -- for several consecutive turns of the prop. In seconds I was able to get the big guy started, but only by ramming the throttle to the firewall. I had apparently flooded the engine, and we darned near ended up driving the courtesy car home... With the alternator pulling 65 amps (we initially popped the circuit breaker), we knew that it had been close -- we had nearly run our old battery dry. Taxiing out, I made a mental note to get that damned key starter replaced, and probably a new battery, too. But, with the digital amp meter slowly counting back down to the normal range, all thoughts of gloom were behind us as I climbed out into the milky white haze. Popping out on top it turned out that the sun hadn't really "set" at all, yet, but was merely obscured by the thick layer of almost-fog. We were suddenly in brilliant sunshine, arcing over a darkening, satiny landscape of almost magical appearance. Alas, the headwind had become a tailwind, and our flight back to Iowa City was short, but sweet. Descending back into that all-embracing velvety whiteness, I rounded the pattern as if on rails, without so much as a burble over the wings to make me move the yoke. Atlas touched down lightly, belying his stubby wings and beefy engine, and -- despite our close call -- I couldn't help but say a silent prayer of thanks for our good fortune. -- Jay Honeck Iowa City, IA Pathfinder N56993 www.AlexisParkInn.com "Your Aviation Destination" |
#5
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("Jay Honeck" wrote)
Beer could wait. Without a second thought I asked Mary if she'd like to go find some cool air with me, and I didn't have to ask twice. Nice write up. What air temps did you finally find ...up there? Montblack 82F here on the ground, an hour past midnight |
#6
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What air temps did you finally find ...up there?
It was in the upper 70s, but dry. And, of course, with the vents open it was blasting us at 100 mph, so it felt cooler! Although I love summer, it is these types of weather systems that remind me why we don't live in Florida. -- Jay Honeck Iowa City, IA Pathfinder N56993 www.AlexisParkInn.com "Your Aviation Destination" |
#7
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Although I love summer, it is these types of weather systems that remind
me why we don't live in Florida. -- Jay Honeck Boy tell me about it! 96 here yesterday. Real hazy and windy today. Everything is dry dry dry. Our irrigation systems haven't shut off for 2 weeks. Had to cancel a flight this morning due to thunderstorms slowly building and passing through north of here. METARs near the storms showed some pretty nasty winds and wind shears. I was supposed to fly up to Eagle River, WI this morning to pick my son up from camp, but because we had to pick him up at exactly 11:30, not earlier and not later, and the airport crew car is limited to 1 hour, I was forced to ask my wife to drive the 2 1/2 hours each way. It would have only took 40 minutes to get there in the Aztec, flying really straightens the roads in the northwoods! Jim |
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