Flight To Oshkosh, Wisconsin, July 2011

Sunday evening, Aug. 7

It's 7:30 p.m. here in Oregon, and I just talked with Bob. I was puzzled that Wayne's SPOT showed him taking off from Prosser, WA (where he and Bob had spent the night) early this morning, and landing in Hood River, OR about 90 minutes later. Then...nothing. I was busy being with Norm, so just now checked Wayne's SPOT again and discovered he'd taken off from Hood River at 7:00 p.m. I called Bob - figuring he was already home, since he doesn't have as far to fly from Hood River as Wayne does.

Turns out that the infamous Columbia River Gorge winds have been howling all day - a boon to wind surfers but not to pilots.

Bob said he made the most difficult landing of his life at Hood River, and both he and Wayne figured that they needed to wait til the winds died down - which meant all day. As I said, Wayne took off @ 7:00 p.m. and radio'd that it was rough but not impossible. Bob waited until now (7:30 p.m.) and I caught him just as he was about to take off. So they'll both be at their respective airports tonight.

Yesterday I had a wonderful drive from Spokane, WA, where I spent the night. The skies were clear and the highway through eastern Washington and across the Columbia River into Oregon is nothing short of spectacular.

Then following the Columbia from eastern Oregon through the Columbia River Gorge - well, it just doesn't get any more beautiful.

Yet the closer I got to home, the sadder I got. I shouldn't be bringing the Talon home in a truck - I should be flying this route, reveling in the beauty from above, not below. As I got off the freeway, only 30 minutes from home, I called Sandy River Airport. My spirits were immeasurably lifted - a whole gaggle of pilot friends were waiting to greet me and help me get the Talon out of the truck.

When I pulled into Sandy River, everyone was there to lend a hand.

Me in the truck, guiding the tail wheel, two men on each gear leg, and two more helping with the boom tube. Others helped get the wings out. Then the BIG question - "WHAT HAPPENED?" Why did the engine die?

We're all perplexed, since I had filled up with gas at Miles City, MT and had flown only an hour when the engine died. The next morning, when Bob, Wayne and I went to get the plane, the gas tank was completely empty although there was still gas in the carb bowls. Yes, the plane was upside down overnight, but if the gas had leaked out of the overflow line during that time, I'd expect that the wipe cloths, sleeping bag, and other fabric which I'd packed next to the gas tank would be saturated - or at least smelling strongly of residual gas. But they were completely dry and odor free. So now the "figuring it out" begins.

And repair work begins as well. The amount of damage - or I should say, the small amount of damage - is really extraordinary and I'm very, very glad. I have to replace a bent strut and the nose pod and that's about it. Of course, we'll be looking at everything very very carefully to be sure that there's not more damage; that detailed inspection begins tomorrow. Today I slept in and spent time with Norm.

So - the end of a much anticipated flight which I'll never forget!

What did I learn/remember from this three weeks?

1. I'm not up there alone.
Even though I fly a single seat aircraft, I'm never really alone. The web of relationships I've created surrounds and supports me. Complete strangers reach out and offer help. The power of these relationships is as important as the joy of flying.

2. I'm responsible for my choices.
I make numerous decisions that affect my flying...who I fly with, the equipment I use, the degree to which I maintain or neglect the Talon, the attention I pay to my pre-flight inspections, the route I choose to fly. When things go wrong, I have to take responsibility rather than blaming the weather or the plane or someone else.

3. I have to force myself into my courage zone, or I'll stay in my comfort zone.
I wasn't sure I really wanted to make this flight: I'd heard too much about the awful winds in Wyoming - and had experienced them when I worked there years ago. But I've learned that for me, my comfort zone gets boring. Flying is never boring, but it is stretching myself that is challenging. That applies to many parts of my life, not just flying.

4. If I can't fly as far as I want, then I fly as far as I can.
I've learned that I can be incredibly patient, waiting for the right weather conditions. I'm not a patient person, but I've become comfortable with waiting until it's safe to fly. And if I only cover 200 miles instead of 400 in a day, I'm content because I've still made progress. Once you learn the skills to fly, you can fly anywhere. In an ultralight-type aircraft, it just takes longer.

There's lots more I've learned - but that's enough for now!

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