Just Plain Fun

The last couple of posts have been about long flights and I still need to tell the story of our July Fourth flight to Boston, Martha’s Vineyard and Lewiston, Maine but you need to keep in mind that between these epic journeys, we generally fly someplace every 2 weeks.  Some of these are informative (the Ford Museum in Dearborn or the Air Force Museum in Dayton).  Some of these are “always wanted to go” to, like the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland.  Some are just plain bizarre (like Jolene wanting to visit the “World’s Largest Truck Stop” in Walcott Iowa (no, I haven’t succumbed to THAT one yet).  But every once in awhile, there is a trip that is just plain fun.  This is one of those.  First, if you’re not from the Midwest, a geography lesson.  Mackinac Island is a little dot of land between the upper

and lower peninsulas of Michigan and is spitting distance from Canada. It is only 3.8 square miles in area and motor vehicles on the island are prohibited…except for airplanes. It is known for the annual sailboat race from Chicago to Mackinac, a competition for America’s Cup class sailboats. It is also known as the site of the movie “Somewhere in Time” with Christopher Reeves and Jane Seymour. It has the only state highway in the country on which motor vehicles are banned (M185). This highway is 8.3 miles long and encircles the island. It is a VERY cool place to go but not terribly accessible, (Google maps shows it as 7.5 hours by car) and it can be very expensive ($32 to bring you and your bike on the ferry (after you’ve driven 7.5 hours). Alternatively, you can rent a bike for $45 for the day). Now, naturally, no one is going to drive 7.5 hours to Mackinac and then turn around and drive back, you’re going to stay a day or two, aren’t you? While you’re there, why not stay at the Grand Hotel, perhaps you’ll run into Jane Seymour? After all, a Category 1, described, as “small interior view guest room” is only $500 per night double occupancy. You could probably score a lesser-known room for oh say $350 per night but, you get the idea, not cheap.

Well, I cooked up a way to enjoy Mackinac Island at minimal cost (of course we NEVER talk about the cost of the flying itself).  I took the back seat out of the plane (4 bolts, 10 minutes) and piled two bicycles back there.  For those of you old enough to remember the television show “Then Came Bronson”, we call this picture, “Then Came Jolene”.  Alternatively, if you remember the Marlon Brando movie “The Wild One”, we call, this, “The Mild One”. 

But I get ahead of myself.  The flight to Mackinac was a wonderful flight all along the Western shore of Lake Michigan, like this.

It’s about 3 hours but REALLY scenic, like flying in the Caribbean. The first time we went there, I was flying along for 3 hours or so and the GPS was telling me the Island was 3 miles in front of me; so at 130 miles an hour, I should have been maneuvering for landing but I couldn’t see an island big enough to land on. It was then that my co-pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “So, when are you going to maneuver to land?” I responded, “I would but I don’t see an island big enough to land on.” She said, “That’s Mackinac, right in front of us.” I told her, “No way but okay, I’ll teach you a lesson.” So I started to maneuver “as if” there was a runway on the island she was pointing to. A minute later, as I lined up on the island, a runway appeared as a slice through the trees. I exclaimed, “Holy crap! There’s a runway on that island!” Jolene came right back with, “Oh no, there couldn’t be because that would mean you were wrong.” (No damn respect for the Pilot in Command.)

Well, we landed. Unpacked the bikes, rode into town and had lunch at the Yankee Rebel.

After lunch, we rode up to the fort for the view.

A little history. The British built Fort Mackinac during the Revolutionary War because the location was strategically important. It is built on the highest point of the Island overlooking the harbor and the Straits of Mackinac. During the war, it changed hands a few times. At the beginning of the War of 1812, the Americans were solidly in control of the Fort and commanded the harbor and the Straits. It was then that the British cheated. They landed their men on the northern side of the island, walked up behind the Americans in the Fort who were busily watching the harbor, and tapped them on the shoulder. The British held the Fort until the end of that war and then returned it to the Americans, laughing the whole while.
From the Fort, we took M185 for the ride around the Island. The views are spectacular. Like this.

On the way back to the airport, we rode past the Grand Hotel to catch sight of Jane Seymour (no such luck) and those paying $500-$800 per night (now we were laughing).

The flight back was every bit as scenic as the flight there.

And if you’re curious just what the back of a Cessna looks like with two bikes crammed in:

Like I said, a day of just plain (or should I say plane) fun!

Long Island - The rest of the story

Well, here we are on Long Island, New York after a wonderful 6-hour flight from Chicago. So, we get settled in, have a great dinner and begin making plans to fly our good friends Ed and Jill to Montauk Point for lunch. Montauk Point, the end of Long Island and, thanks to Montauk captain Frank Mundus’ catching of a 4,550-pound white shark in 1964, the inspiration for the novel Jaws. This will just be a quick 25-minute flight (as opposed to what we’re used to, 2+ hours in a car in bumper-to-bumper Hampton’s traffic) and a good chance for all of us to see the Long Island where we spent the first 45 years of our lives.

The weather wasn’t great with a few low-level clouds, gusty winds and gray skies but what the heck; Ed and Jill are troopers, aren’t they? So, off we go. Our route takes us along the South shore past some of the homes of the celebrities. How’d you like to live here?

Notice the tall hedges so no one can look in. Hah, didn’t stop us.

Before you know it, we’re at Montauk. Here’s Gosman’s dock. This is where the deep-sea fishing boats leave and where you can pay some astronomical money for Montauk souvenirs

Here we are approaching Montauk Point airport.  This is a pretty underwhelming airport.  Calling it an asphalt runway is being generous.  It is about half asphalt and about half sand and beach grass poking through.  It is however provided with a shack the size of a Porta Potty that houses a genial looking enough guy who holds out his hand for the $10 “landing fee” for which he points out which way to walk to get to the restaurants.

After a great lunch (fish, what else) we took off for the return trip.  Of course we had to fly around Montauk Point lighthouse.

Montauk Point light, the end of Long Island, last stop before England.  The Second United States Congress under President George Washington commissioned the Montauk Point lighthouse in 1792.  It was worth a close-up.

A few minutes later and we’re back at Islip Macarthur airport.  Where our friends hugged each other and posed for this picture (right after getting out and kissing the ground). 

Our second day of the Long Island trip and the reason for coming in the first place was my brother Tom’s Half Century birthday! The next day, we were all sitting around recuperating from the party when the talk came around to our sightseeing flight of two days before. Both Tom and his father-in-law sounded pretty excited so I suggested, “Hey, why don’t we drive to the airport and go for a ride.” (Ain’t this just the beauty of having your own plane?)

Well, we took off and headed along the North shore. Before long, we reached the site of the Shoreham Nuclear Power Station (SNPS). Well, at least that’s what it once was.

Back in 1973, the Long Island Lighting Company (Lilco), Long Island’s utility, decided to build a nuclear power plant to generate cheap electrical power. A whole cacophony of issues doomed this plant. Foremost among these was that Lilco decided to manage the project themselves (with absolutely no experience). Add to that the changing Federal requirements and the Three Mile Island incident and the coincident release of the movie, “The China Syndrome” in 1979 and this project dragged on through 1984. This gave the many environmental activists on Long Island time to organize and protest and organize and protest they did. The media caught on to all of the gloom and doom scenarios being tossed around in spite of the facts that not a single person has ever been killed by a nuclear power plant accident in the United States but annually over 24,000 people have their demise hastened by coal. To make a long and dramatic story shorter, the SNPS was decommissioned without every generating a single commercially sold watt of power, leaving Long Island residents with a 6 billion dollar bill (in 1989 dollars) which even today forms the basis for some of the most expensive electrical power sold in the US.

When we reached the fork of Long Island, we turned South and crossed the Island to the South shore. There we passed Fire Island lighthouse

and then finally Jones Beach tower.

Jones Beach (along with Northern and Southern State Parkways, running East and West along Long Island) was designed and constructed in the 1920’s by master engineer and builder Robert Moses.

Finally, we contacted those friendly ATC folks at Islip Macarthur, began our approach and were back home.

My brother and his father in law both thanked me for the ride (right after getting out and kissing the taxiway (must be a NY thing).

Stay tuned for our Boston trip.

I Love New York!

Okay so I know that it’s been a very long time since our last blog and many of you are assuming that we were one day lost at sea, Amelia Earhart-like, never to be seen or heard from again. As it is usually, the truth is a great deal more pedestrian.

In an effort to keep peace on the home front, this part of the story will not name names. It seems that “one of us” is waaay behind in editing her pictures (oh no, I let the cat out of the bag). (Oh well, it wasn’t terribly peaceful on the home front anyway.) Part of this has to do with the same “one of us” feeling compelled to take a picture of every cloud and every farm in the entire Midwest. So, feeling very PIC-like (an aviation term meaning Pilot in Command) and bored, grounded as I am watching the snow fall, I wrested the blog controls from “the other of us” and decided to author my own blog.

Naturally, one of the places we knew that we had to fly to since the day I got my license was back to where it all began, Long Island, New York. Fortunately, June of 2010 was my brother’s half century birthday and, I guess due to a weak moment on the part of my sister-in-law (which I’m certain she is regretting), we were invited! I immediately began making plans and in a flurry of flight plan activity, mapped out this route:

The plan called for leaving as early in the morning as “the other of us” was willing to get up (not terribly early) flying down the Chicago lakeshore, hang a left at Gary, Indiana, site of the very picturesque abandoned steel mills and continuing on to Youngstown, Ohio, famous for the…uh, Youngstown airport. Quick lunch, gas up and 3 hours later, Long Island.

Okay, so that was the plan. The actuality was that Mother Nature planned to throw some real nastiness at us the morning we were to depart. So instead, we decided to leave right after “the other of us” got home from work, fly to Youngstown, stay the night and fly the remainder the next morning. So, we launched from Waukegan at 6:30 under beautiful clear skies. As planned, we hung our left at Gary and cruised on. By 9:00 (sunset) we had passed Cleveland. Those of you not familiar with Ohio geography and landmarks may be completely unaware of what lies between Cleveland and Youngstown. Let me educate you – NOTHING. At least nothing that emits even a photon of light. So, motoring along in pitch blackness (and the glow of the instruments and GPS) with complete confidence in my “PICness” we radioed Youngstown airport when we were 20 miles out. Our call was met by a very friendly (and bored) indeed ATC guy. We subsequently began our descent and our ATC buddy gave us a hearty “Clear to land!” I responded with, “that’s very good and encouraging but could you turn the runway lights on so I can see WHERE I’m clear to land.” Boy that was met by some boisterous laughing. (I suspect this kinda stuff is WAY funnier when sitting in a swivel chair than in an airplane). Suddenly the airport appeared in all its blazing glory. We landed, taxied to the FBO (which we knew ahead of time would be closed) and apparently, that was the event of the day because all the runway lights went off and the airport was effectively closed.

Now, this next part may not be politically correct so, those of you who are sensitive are advised to read this next part with your eyes closed. I’ll tell you when you can open them again. One of the things I’ve included in my passenger briefing is that “I’ve been all the way to the back of my plane and haven’t yet found a bathroom so I’d advise you to go now before we leave”. One of the enduring mysteries of flying is that no matter how far you’re going, you inevitably have to pee about a half hour before getting there. Flying being what it is, it’s not like you can just pull over to the side of the road. Well, this trip was no exception. In fact, one of the challenges of landing at Youngstown was uncrossing my legs so I could work the rudder pedals.

So, landed we were. I got out a penlight and we began to button the plane up for the night and put its cover on. When we were done, we both walked around the plane to ensure we hadn’t forgotten anything. It was then that I heard Jolene exclaim, “Oh no, we have a problem. There’s a puddle. The back of the plane is leaking!” Assuring her that the puddle was caused not by the back of the plane but the front of the pilot made her feel marginally better.

(Okay, you can open your eyes now.)

The next morning, we launched for Long Island. Beautiful day but the cloud cover was forecast to become denser the further east we went. Bridgeport, Connecticut, where we planned to hang our right to cross Long Island Sound was forecast to be a broken layer (5/8-7/8 cloud cover). As we crossed the Hudson River at Ossining, we got a good view of the Tappan Zee Bridge.

We were beginning to feel at home, having traversed that bridge hundreds of times.  Coming up on Bridgeport, it was tending more towards the 7/8 part of the broken definition but we could see that there was a similar cloud layer over Long Island but nothing over Long Island Sound.  Before hanging our right, here’s what it looked like from where I sat.

I told Jolene, “Okay, here’s the plan, we make our turn, we contact Macarthur and we descend while crossing Long Island Sound. When we get to the other side, we are under the cloud layer and we land.

So, I made my turn, contacted Islip, Macarthur and began my descent. Boy, I’ll tell you! Sometimes things work out just like you planned and make you look really smart. This was one of those times.

Even though seeing Long Island was a thrill, hearing the NY accent and the NY “attitude” from the NY air traffic controller really made me feel at home. Islip Macarthur, you’ll know, is a large commercial airport. They handle 160,000 landings and departures a year and it is a major hub for Southwest. Well, as we were on our downwind leg (heading South), there was a Southwest Boeing 737 on final. Now, it is common that air traffic control (ATC) will try to separate a small plane from landing after a big one by 3 minutes or so to avoid what is called “wake turbulence” which could cause the smaller plane to tumble (apparently, they don’t like the loud noise that a small plane landing upside down creates). So, as I was talking to Islip ATC and he told me, “ah, Cessna 179 X-ray Pop (that’s me), extend your downwind to avoid wake turbulence”. I expected this and he was telling me to keep going the way I was going for awhile to allow the vortexes created by the 737 to dissipate. After what seemed like a long while and with the Southwest long on the ground, I was beginning to leave Long Island and head out over the ocean to Florida. I thought that perhaps ATC had forgotten about me (which, BTW happens more often than you might think). So, I called and said, “ah, Islip Tower, this is 179 X-ray Pop, I’d like to begin my base turn”. (BTW, in case you were wondering, you have to preface your communications with that “ah”, it makes you sound very pilot-like.)

Now, ATC, over the entire country is very emotionless and professional. Not so, New York.

ATC shot right back with “ah, X-ray Pop, alright, I told you about the wake turbulence; do whatever you want, clear to land”.

Oh boy! We were in New York.

Great landing and here’s my Southwest buddy. Stand by for the next blog, “Adventures in New York”.