TALESPINNERS - July, 2002

The Great Journey

Dr. Timothy Fry, ABS #41423
Cincinnati, Ohio
February 11, 2002

The Great Journey started for me with a phone call one Saturday in early February.  For fellow ABS member Mike Franzago it started many years earlier when he sold his first Bonanza.  Mike was going to buy a 1959 “K” model Bonanza and invited me to go to California to pick up it up.  The trip to retrieve N189AA was just too good to pass up.  We’d only be gone two days, so after clearing my schedule at work I promptly said yes.

In the time I’ve known him, Mike has spoken really fondly of only two planes.  The first was the F-4 Phantom he flew in the Marine Corps and the second was his original 1959 “K” model, N6037E.  He’s owned several different types of airplanes since 37E, but I could tell that what he really wanted was to be back behind the controls of a V-tail.

We belong to EAA Chapter 174 in Cincinnati, Ohio and frequently fly together on chapter flyouts and just for fun.  Until recently, his Citabria was used for these flights, but it had been sold to make room in the hanger for the new plane.  Following many months of Internet shopping on www.Trade-a-Plane.com, www.aso.com, www.barnstormers.com and even a trip to Columbus to look at a 1954 model he selected a plane based in Livermore, California.  Livermore is a mere 1787nm from Cincinnati on the Great Circle routing so the delivery flight promised a lot of flying time and a good look at parts of the country I’d never seen before.  As flown, our trip took a little longer than 1787nm, but that’s getting ahead in the story.

At 4:15 Monday morning, just two days after the initial call, I awoke and would soon be on a Delta Airlines jet (Mike is a Delta Airlines captain) headed for San Jose via Salt Lake.  New security procedures were in effect for flights into and out of Salt Lake in preparation for the Olympics and we had to stay in our seats while the airliner was within one-half hour of SLC, both inbound and outbound.  It was actually no big deal, but it did remind me how our world has changed.  In spite of this reminder, I was glad to be bound for the freedom that accompanies any flight in a General Aviation aircraft.  I sure hoped the plane measured up, because, as nice as airline travel is, I sure didn’t want to use the return half of my ticket.

We landed in San Jose and were met by ABS member Chuck McGraw the, soon to be former, owner of 9AA.  He drove us to Livermore in air-conditioned comfort.  I had never been to California so it was a new experience for me to be using the AC in February.  In addition to the nice weather, the rugged, rural beauty of the surroundings just outside of Silicon Valley struck me.  I suppose that like most people who have never been to a given place I formed a picture in my mind of what California “should” look like.  Likely, this picture was based on movies and television pictures.  In my case, I imagined that all of California would look like Los Angeles or San Francisco.  I was wrong about California and that would not be the last time I was surprised by the look and feel of the local terrain.

Chuck pulled into the Livermore airport and parked at his hanger.  When he opened the hanger doors, I could immediately see that the plane looked even better in-person than it did on the Internet.  The accompanying photographs show a very nice red/white/black “P” model paint job, including a single piece windshield.  The plane also has a fairly new interior.  After reviewing the logs and a very thorough preflight inspection Mike and Chuck headed off for a test flight.  I elected to remain at the hanger and contemplate what I’d gotten myself into.  I’d seen the mountains on the way in from Salt Lake and frankly, I was getting a little apprehensive about flying over them.  I was starting to imagine myself at the beginning of an Ernest Gann novel.

N189AA Exterior View

The guys returned from their test flight and Mike simply said, “I’m satisfied” and with that the papers were signed and the deal was done.  I told Chuck that I was very happy for my friend’s good fortune and that I was a little sorry for him to be losing his airplane.  Chuck told Mike to call him if he ever decided to sell.  You could tell that he was really going to miss her and that the plane had been good to him.  We loaded up at about 4:00 PM PST and 9AA headed east.

The WX was clear and a million as we sped towards our overnight stop in Reno, Nevada.  We climbed out over the valley and cruised at 7,500msl.  The plane flew rock-solid and before long it was time to scale our first mountain range.  To say the least, I had great anticipation, but Mike took it all in stride having performed the mountain crossing several times before in less capable airplanes.  Nearing the range, we started a strong climb and leveled at 11,500msl for the crossing southwest of Lake Tahoe.  Reno Approach chose to keep us a little high to maintain radar contact so we had to lose about 5,000 feet on downwind.  That’s hard to do in such a slick bird, but it left me lots of time to view the twinkling lights of Reno.  After extending downwind a little and making a few S-turns we were on glide slope and on the extended centerline.  Mike made a really fine landing.  We were feeling pretty good, 145nm and one hour down.  We rolled into Jet West (our only disappointing service experience on the whole trip) just after sundown.

After a moderately long wait for a cab, we were on our way to getting settled into the Peppermill hotel and casino.  This was a big time compared to Cincinnati nightlife. We played a few slots, drank a few beers, and had a good meal at the huge buffet for only $16.  It had been a long 20-hour day, it was time to watch the Weather Channel and go to bed.  There seemed to be a weak low-pressure system moving in from Mexico to Texas, but the forecasters weren’t worried.  It would track generally east and not move too far north.  It looked like another clear and a million day for Tuesday.

Tuesday dawned and we spent about an hour clearing frost off the plane.  The sun helped, but it was still hard work.  We were headed to Flagstaff or Winslow, Arizona, with a big left turn at Las Vegas.  Some transient pilots had just flown up that route and told us to expect smooth skies, irrespective of the AIRMET for occasional moderate turbulence below FL180 in Northern Arizona.  Mike graciously allowed me to take the first leg of today’s trip.  I made the take off from 16R and was aimed at a great big rock.  Not to fear, a small jog to the right and 9AA was climbing strongly, easily on her way.  The first of two mechanical problems occurred on the climb out.  As he turned to take a picture of the Reno area the camera shutter jammed.  I’m guessing that the cold temperatures overnight killed the battery.  Regrettably, we have no pictures from the trip, save for one with Chuck in Livermore.

We headed southeast from Reno on Victor-105 passing Walker Lake, Coaldale, and Beatty while making sure to keep the Tonopah Test Range restricted area off to our left.  The more we flew the more at ease I became.  I’ll admit that I initially tended to view the mountains as granite monsters with tentacles trying to grab us at every opportunity.  Eventually I came to realize that we were spending most of our time flying over the relatively smooth valleys between the ridges and that there was much more forced landing space than I imagined.  I never worried much about engine failure in the Midwest, but this was somehow different.  I suppose ocean-crossings trigger similar thoughts.  Most of the trip to Las Vegas paralleled a road that actually had cars on it.  I started feeling this might not be so bad after all; I was really having fun and taking in all the sights.  I kept telling myself that if you never stretch your comfort zone, you never grow.  Boy was I growing and having a wonderful time doing it.

Flying over Las Vegas at 9,500msl, we got a great view of the city, a Southwest 737, Lake Mead, and the Hoover Dam.  A working camera would have been nice at that point when the 737 slid silently by the face of the dam.  We glimpsed what we could of the Colorado River and the end of the Grand Canyon, but we didn’t have the necessary charts and preparation to venture over the canyon.  Maybe next time we'll visit the Canyon.  The trip down from Reno had taken about two and a half hours and I was really getting used to mountain flying.  We headed east across Northern Arizona and picked up a few of the bumps the FSS briefer had promised.  Near Flagstaff the northerly wind spilling over volcanic Humphreys Peak in the San Francisco Mountains made for a spirited ride, but Mike kept the Bonanza Waggle in check like the pro he is.  At 12,633 feet, it’s the highest point in Arizona.  Descending into Winslow, we circled the Barringer Meteorite Crater (aka Meteor Crater), which is a mile in diameter and 570 feet deep.

N189AA Instrument Panel

After clearing the active at Winslow, we followed the orange signs to the self-serve fuel pumps.  The airport manger, John, arrived after we were ready to begin fueling and offered to let us spend $1/gallon more if we wanted full-serve.  Even though we declined his offer, he was friendly and generous and gave us the keys to the airport van so we could go into town for some lunch.  John recommended a nice place in a historic building by the railroad tracks, but it was closed.  We went across US Route 66 and dined at the Brown Mug Café.  The service was fine and the food was an American/Mexican mix.  We got out of there for about $7 each.  All in all Winslow was a friendly, no frills town with $1.86/ gallon gas.

Our weather briefing at Winslow confirmed that the snowstorm that wasn’t supposed to be there had moved north into Albuquerque and Amarillo thereby blocking our direct VFR route back to Cincinnati.  We elected to take a more northerly track up towards Farmington, New Mexico with plans to cross the Sangre de Cristo Mountains near Taos, New Mexico or Alamosa, Colorado.  Due to the lateness of the hour when we reached the Rio Grande, following it north through the high-desert mesa, it was prudent to make our final mountain crossing at Taos.  The trip from Winslow to Taos avoided most of the really high terrain and was the most desolate stretch of the entire trip.  Unlike the previous legs where we flew parallel to the roads, the leg to Taos crossed perpendicular to the roads so we only saw them for short while.  This fact reinforced the impression of the incredible lack of human evidence.  If two pilots go down in the wilderness, would anybody know?  Next time I’m taking a satellite phone so I can relay the lat/long coordinates from my Garmin 195 GPS to the SAR team.

Several times along the trip I told Mike that he would have made a great Air Mail pilot, flying an old Boeing Model 40A.  The aviator just made it look easy.  To be clear, it’s not like we had any harrowing experiences, but this was all still very new and thrilling to me and I was glad to be flying with someone who had done all this before.  After a final 15 minutes of mountain flying from Taos, we would be delivered from the West to the more familiar flatlands at the Cimarron VOR.  I had grown quite a bit on this great journey, but I was content to have my more experienced friend fly the final pass in the dwindling twilight.  I just watched the map and the altimeter.  I was impressed.

I felt a major moral victory and accomplishment as we descended out of the Sangre de Cristo range and turned north towards Colorado Springs.  I had done it!  With no small amount of help, I had flown in the mountains.  After more than 20 years as a pilot, I was as happy as the day of my first solo.  I’m sure it’s old hat to many, but I hope I never lose that sense of excitement that General Aviation flying offers.

Clearing the final range was important, but the journey was still far from over.  We floated north in the clear Colorado night sky; the Big Dipper appeared close enough to grab.  There were many planes out that night: airlines, freight dogs, tired travelers and even a few instructional flights.  We tracked Interstate 25 past Pueblo and elected to land at Colorado Springs because there was a higher likelihood of an open FBO and a hotel bed.  At 7:45 PM MST, we landed and rolled into Colorado Jet Center where we were greeted by a warm and friendly female voice on the radio.  That sure was nice at the end of a long day.  We had come 1031nm in less than seven hours since Reno.

Wednesday morning was clear in Colorado Springs.  The Weather Channel said the snowstorm that wasn’t supposed to be in the nation’s midsection certainly wouldn’t go any further north than I70.  When we got to the airport the briefer said it had pushed up to I80 and we’d be lucky to make it to Omaha.  Figuring it was better to make at least some progress we launched in perfect VFR for Goodland, Kansas.  That was one of the best decisions of the entire trip.  I flew this leg and was granted landing privileges in Mike’s new bird.  Naturally, I greased it on.

At Goodland’s Renner Field the friendly staff of Butterfly Aviation greeted us.  More importantly, however, we had breakfast and were served by Dolores Corke, Restaurateur.  Delores is celebrating her 11th year as the proprietor of the Butterfly Café.  She is everything that is good about this country.  Her welcoming Midwestern manner and easy smile made us instantly at home.  Just like my grandma used to do.  The place was half-full at 10:30 on a Wednesday morning and the food was a hearty biscuits & gravy with eggs, sausage and orange juice.  She gave us homemade sweet rolls to eat later in the day and pointed out that no store-bought mixes are allowed at the Butterfly Café.  You really must stop there and when you do tell Dolores that Mike and Tim say hi.

Following that great meal, we went back to the FBO for a weather briefing.  Based on the day’s first weather briefing we had pretty much resigned ourselves to spending another night in a hotel, but we might as well call.  The briefer in Kansas was far more optimistic than the one in Colorado and after a few minutes, we had worked up a VFR routing through North Platte and Norfolk, Nebraska, continuing to Sioux City, Fort Dodge and Waterloo, Iowa.  The good folks at Livingston Aviation in Waterloo gave us a quick turn and we were soon on our way to Cincinnati.  Only two and a half hours left to go.  It was about 4:30 PM CST and I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.

The Author (left) and the Pilot at "Waterloo" with the Star of the Show

I was flying the leg to Cincinnati and feeling satisfied at how far we had come.  We were still in great VFR conditions, but I could see lots of clouds off to the south.  Mike thumbed his nose at the snowstorm that wasn’t supposed to be there.  We had to travel far and wide to avoid it, but we had beaten it, flying in perfect VFR all the way from California.  I told Mike it was never a good idea to flaunt one’s accomplishments before, and certainly never to taunt the aviation gods.  As I leveled at 7,500msl and set up our cruise, I looked directly at the ammeter.  ZAP!  The second mechanical malfunction of the trip had just occurred (recall the camera was the first).  Just like you hope will happen during a simulator ride I was Johnny-on-the-spot to see the ammeter needle fall over into a significant discharge.  Attempts to reset the alternator were unsuccessful.  The thought of arriving in Cincinnati more than an hour after sunset without radios, lights (what would the F-16s think of that), and having to crank the gear down were not all that appealing.  We shut off everything, killed the master, and pulled the handheld COM radio out of the flight bag.  The Garmin 195 gave us a direct course to Moline, Illinois and Quad Cities approach worked us right in.  With plenty of juice in the battery for the landing gear Mike landed and we rolled into Elliott Aviation, an “Authorized Raytheon and Beechcraft Service Center.”  What good fortune.  I guess the aviation gods weren’t that offended after all.

The lineman greeted us with a smile.  As we stepped out of 9AA onto the red carpet (yes, a real red carpet) Mike was heard to say “boy this is going to cost me.”  These folks were great and after a little persuasion, they were convinced to troubleshoot the problem that night.  The day shift had gone home and the night shift was booked, but we sure didn’t want to spend the entire next day, Thursday, waiting if it would be possible to order the repair parts that night.  The people at Elliott got us a hotel across the street from the airport and recommended the Skyline Restaurant for dinner.  We went off for some food and Elliott promised to call on the cell phone once they knew something.  John drove us to the La Quinta and he loved talking about airplanes as much as any pilot.  Thanks John.

Just before dessert, Mike got a call on the cell phone.  He excused himself to find a quiet place to take the call.  The Skyline Restaurant was really hopping and I continued to enjoy my steak.  Mike returned after about 10 minutes with a really big smile on his face.  Walter, the mechanic, had found the problem.  It seems that a small alternator field wire had broken and the plane was quickly and easily fixed.  It was too late to fly home and there was the 8-hour rule to heed, so we just enjoyed the rest of the meal and returned to the hotel for a good sleep, content in the knowledge that we were now only two hours from home.  We had flown almost 800nm and five hours that day.

Due to MLI’s proximity to the Mississippi River Thursday morning arrived a little foggy, but not bad.  It burned off by the time we got to the airport.  We were especially grateful to Elliott Aviation for getting us out of a bind, so we made sure to say “thanks.”  The computerized weather showed the WX at Cincinnati was going to be OK and improving.  We climbed to 9,500msl and soon the Great State of Illinois disappeared under a low status undercast.  We were clear and a million above the cloud deck.  Life was good and the GPS showed 190kts groundspeed.  Not bad for 12.5gph.  I did a quick calculation that showed that a 172 would burn about the same number of gallons on the leg while arriving about an hour later.  We listened to ATIS broadcasts along the way to keep abreast of the local ceiling, just in case.  The pilot was happy with his new plane.

By the time we reached Lafayette, Indiana, the undercast layer disappeared and we continued to enjoy the view from the Bonanza cockpit.  We covered the 350nm leg from Moline, Illinois to Cincinnati, Ohio in just over two hours.  We landed at Clermont County Airport (I69) at 1:45 EST.  The Great Journey was over.  We had flown 2310nm in 16:14 hours (startup to shutdown) while burning 195.9 gallons (13.6 statute MPG) over a four-day period.

We spent a little while making room in the hanger for N189AA (the Citabria’s high wings had plenty of clearance above the stuff stacked by the hanger walls), said goodbye, and I left to go home to see the family who missed me and ponder the incredible events of the previous few days.  I hold no illusions and don’t consider myself an accomplished mountain pilot, but I’m sure willing to try it again someday.  This had truly been a great journey.

 Mike and Tim on EAA Fly-Out a few weeks after returning N189AA from California