| by |
Brent Blue, M.D. |
After three years of restoration by the good folks at Aviat Aircraft in Afton,
Wyo., my Flaglor HighTow was ready. I sure was going to fly it back to Oshkosh
to show off my new beauty! The HighTow was a Fleet 16B converted by Ken Flaglor
(of Flaglor Scooter fame) to a big W-670 engine to tow gliders. A kinder and
gentler 1957-era FAA said make it look like something else than a Fleet and you
can do it as an experimental, so Ken made it look like a Waco.
We took off from Driggs, Idaho — U59, just 18 miles west of Jackson Hole, the
better airport for the area. I was accompanied by Sarah, one of my Aeromedix.com
staff, who came for the adventure, and whose job was to keep the aircraft right
side up while I messed with maps and a portable GPS. We departed about 1500
local time. I'd wanted to leave earlier, but I had to work in my office Saturday
morning and everything else seemed to be conspiring against us getting out on
time.
Since the Flaglor does not have any significant cargo space, Sarah and I each
had one change of clothing and toiletries. The rest of our luggage was to be
hauled out in the Aeromedix.com trailer. We finally got everything packed,
pulled the aircraft out of the hangar, swung the prop through seven full
revolutions ... at which point I noticed I had left the master switch on and now
had a dead battery. So we incurred another delay for jump-starting.
Once I got the big round Continental started, the sputtering of a cold engine,
white smoke from the exhaust, and seeing everyone at the airport looking our way
made the wait worthwhile. There really is nothing in the world quite like flying
an open cockpit biplane.
Aloft At Last
The weather was spectacular, making the takeoff from Driggs and flight over the
Grand Tetons spectacular. We crossed the mountain range at about 9,500 feet just
south of the South Teton through Death Canyon, and headed north to Dubois. Even
though we were at 8,500 to 9,500 feet MSL during this first leg in the Jackson
Hole area, we were only 500 to 1,500 AGL. The air was rough and Sarah was not
feeling well, so I made our first leg short and stopped in Riverton Wyoming (RIV).
Unfortunately, no one was there at the field, so we had to call out someone for
gas, delaying us even more.
More embarrassing for me, I pulled out my trusty ReliefBand anti-motion-sickness
device for Sarah to wear during the next leg, and discovered that its battery
was dead too! Whoever used it last had left it on! All my spare batteries were
in the trailer, so no ReliefBand for Sarah on this trip! Ugh!
We finally took off from Riverton and flew to Douglas, Wyo. Douglas is on the
eastern border of Wyoming, and its main claim to fame is the State Police
Academy. Just before landing at Douglas, we passed some weird circles that you
only see from an aircraft on the river right before Douglas. If anyone knows
what those alien landing strips really are, let me know!
Ouch!
As I landed in Douglas, we caught a gust of wind from the right and I dinged the
left wing tip. Now I was dead meat with the folks at Aviat, but a least I could
say I kept the sucker from ground looping! Since I had not yet paid Aviat's
bill, I felt even worse. Of course Sarah had lots of questions! My ego was
bruised and I went over about 100 times how I could have avoided the problem,
but there are lots of worse things in life.
Some nice folks helped us get into a hangar for the night, and we were given the
use of the great sort of courtesy car that you can only find at small airports
— a "three on the floor" 1960s-vintage Impala. Driving that puppy
made memories come back, and my anguish over the wing tip fade. Most of the
motels in Douglas were full for some reason, but were able to get rooms at the
last place in town — the place that the folks at the Best Western said "we
don't normally refer people there, but it's the only place left in town!"
It has been a long time since I spent the night in a motel which had shag rug in
the bathroom, extensive cigarette burns on the bedspread, and a shower head
which was shoulder height!
Another Day
We met early for breakfast at the Plains Café. This is Douglas' record-breaking
café which has been open 24-hours-a-day, seven-days-a-week, for 195,804
consecutive hours. I know this because I watched the octogenarian owner change
the homemade sign that declared the number of hours while I munched on my
breakfast. You've got to love small towns.
Takeoff from Douglas was finally accomplished at 0800. We were delayed because
we could not get that three-on-the-floor Impala out of second gear. Also, the
fuel truck was out of service, so we had to push the aircraft from one end of
the tarmac to the other to the stationary pump. The pump then would not start,
which took another 15 minutes to fix. We finally took off and flew to Gordon,
Neb., at about 5,500 MSL (about 600 AGL). We descended as the ground descended,
maintaining 600 AGL until we landed at Gordon, field elevation is 3,560.
In Gordon, we were met by the lineman who road up on horseback. (I am NOT making
this up — I've got the photos to prove it!). We filled with mogas, which makes
the W-670 purr, whereas avgas makes it sputter and kick (even with Marvel
Mystery Oil). Gordon is just one of those wonderful Midwest places to drop in.
On to Wagner, S.D., where the database states mogas is available, which was our
selection criterion. (Once there, of course, the airport manager told us they
have not had it for 20 years!) Even thought the ground was now less than 2,000
feet MSL, we flew at 7,500 feet to get the cooler, calmer air to keep Sarah
feeling well. Wagner has one paved and two grass runways and since the wind was
right, I landed on grass for the first time since the restoration. (I wished
Douglas had been grass.)
Oil Pressure
On the way into Wagner, I started getting fluctuations in my oil pressure. It
turned out that this wasn't a mechanical problem, but only the result of the oil
level dropping to four quarts. The Flaglor oil tank holds three gallons, but is
not happy below six quarts since the intake from the oil tank gets air sucked in
during the sloshing of an almost-empty tank. The 220 horsepower radial was not
leaking or burning more oil than it should (it was freshly-overhauled, too), I
had not just elected to add more oil when the level hit six quarts. I vow not to
make that mistake again.
The next leg was to Fairmont, Minn. Since Wagner did not have a courtesy car or
other means to get to a restaurant, we decided to hit a larger airport to eat
dinner. Fairmont was on the way so we went for it. We initially climbed to 9,500
feet to clear some broken clouds but instead of stopping, they seem to go
forever. I made a diving descent through a large hole and flew on to Fairmont at
3,500 below the deck. We arrived at Fairmont otherwise without any problems.
After topping off, the FBO manager lent us his truck (the two courtesy cars were
already out) and we had burgers at lakeside in town. I elected to go on to La
Crosse, Wis., after dinner since we still had daylight, and a RON in La Crosse
would mean we could then make Oshkosh in about 90 minutes early Monday morning.
La Crosse was about 90 minutes from Fairmont and has a towered airport. It was
the first time in the entire trip that I had to use the handheld radio. After
landing, we ran into nine other pilots also heading for Oshkosh the next day,
flying in aircraft ranging from an Interstate to a Yak. We arrived at 2000 local
and had enough sun and noise even for open cockpit devotees.
The totals for the second day were 667 nautical miles, 8:18 trip time, average
speed of 80.4 knots, and a maximum ground speed of 116 (clocked during that
diving descent to get through the clouds).
Final Leg
Monday morning, we left La Crosse at 0800 for Oshkosh. Traveling at 300 to 500
feet AGL, we headed for Ripon and the VFR arrival procedure at Wittman field.
Flying low over Wisconsin means paying attention, since this part of the world
has some high radio antennas and we were definitely flying below their tops.
While I did slow "S" turns, Sarah looked for antennas. I also was
watching my portable GPS to skirt the big Volk MOA military airspace in western
Wisconsin.
Arriving at Ripon is always like popping a cork on a champagne bottle. My
exuberance was uncontrolled. It is fun to look for traffic, and I love it when
the controller says "red biplane, rock your wings!" I was so excited
that I turned in front of a canard aircraft thinking I could outpace him. I knew
things were different when he flew right over me and took the lead. That was
okay, since it allowed me more time to set up my final approach.
After landing, I taxied over to the Rubber Chicken campground where the best
part of Oshkosh was waiting — all the pilots and friends from all the previous
Oshkoshes were camping. The friendships we make at Oshkosh are everlasting.
Total airtime for the trip was 13.2 hours, 153 gallons of gas, 12 quarts of oil
... and a lot of fun!
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