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"

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

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.

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"

("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

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"

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