BARNSTORMING!
My Travel Buddy!
After I returned home from my stint in the US ARMY, I started
taking flying lessons, working towards a Commercial License. I
bought a Cessna 150 and took instruction in it. One spring, I flew
from San Diego County, California to Grants Pass, Oregon, on a
mission for my father. I did not accomplish what was hoped for,
but I did resolve matters. I first debated driving the distance of
about 800 miles of mostly boring, familiar freeway. I did not relish
that. Since the weather was perfect for the trip except for Coastal
Low Clouds and Fog, I elected to FLY. It was a trip with some
great experiences and I made some surprising new friends.
My Pilot Log Book shows I landed at Fresno Air Terminal on the
first leg of the flight. Since I carried four hours of fuel on board,
Fresno was a logical choice. However, the distance between
airports remaining from there, meant two SHORT hops and one
longer one was needed. I opted for Modesto for the next stop, and
from there to Siskiyou Airport near the Oregon Border.
A Northern California Community with its Airport.
facility” with the US Air Force back then. So, I ended up dealing
with an Air Force Controller. The Airport was used for all kinds of
flight operations in a remote area for AF pilots who got their
required monthly flying time in there.
As I crested the pass between Mt. Shasta and the Trinity Alps,
visibility was more than 50 miles. The airport was easy to find,
but the air turned very bumpy beyond the crest, and I was held
busy keeping the airplane flying straight and level.
I tuned in the tower
frequency to see what was happening there and soon learned the
winds were straight down the runway from the south at 25 knots!
In other words, it was WINDY. They had one of those large B52
type aircraft in the pattern doing touch-and-goes. I was evaluating
what my options were. Large aircraft are a danger to all planes
because of wing-vortex winds known as “wake turbulence.” The
tanker was doing a left hand pattern which kept him to the east of
the field. He lifted off fairly early for a heavy plane and then
circled back for another approach. It was obvious I could AVOID
the whole turbulence issue by flying a straight-in approach with a
hefty tailwind. The winds worked to my advantage by keeping the
“wakes” moving to the north! My skill level at the time easily
allowed for this option. I had not yet received my Commercial
License but was within a dozen hours of qualifying. I radioed the
tower to advise them of my position and aircraft type. I was
pushing a ground speed at the time of 130, selling off my altitude
in the rough air. I requested a straight-in approach, mentioning
my concern about wake turbulence and that I was willing to
coordinate approach times. I was cleared to land (...“wheels down
and locked!” the controller said! Cessna 150’s do not have a
retractable gear! That was apparently standard AF procedure.)
The big boy extended his down-wind a bit and I had clear sailing.
Getting the craft slowed down took some doing, and eventually I
added 20 degrees of flaps for the landing. It was too bumpy for
full flaps but it turned into a smooth operation with the big boy
landing minutes later in the OPPOSITE direction as planned. I
gassed my plane, rested a bit before tackling the remaining
hour to Grants Pass. When I spotted the big fellow off the ground I
requested to taxi to the midpoint of the runway, and I would take
off from there. Normally one does not do that, but the deciding
factor in my decision was the strong southerly wind and the
guarantee of no “wake.” I was cleared for a midpoint takeoff, did
so, and was airborne in seconds. I requested a right-turn climbing
departure, received it, and wished them all a good day.
Thompson Creek Airstrip. Can you spot the grass runway??!
At Grants Pass, I gassed again, and inquired about using
the Thompson Creek Airstrip, which was my eventual
destination. The neat grass strip is no longer used. It was a
one-way field at the time and could be tricky! It was just
a few feet from where we lived when I entered the military,
so this was a great piece of luck for me in completing
my reason for going.
Today, several ranches in the area keep their own planes and
active runways in more suitable locations nearby. I looked
the place over before deciding my approach. Once I was
sure I could land, I returned to Grants Pass to top off my
fuel for the eventual trip south. I also talked to pilots familiar
with the strip for any additional tips.
Left-hand landing pattern with arrow showing the grass runway.
Since I had never landed at Thompson Creek Airstrip before,
I opted NOT to land up-canyon with the unfamiliar terrain and
tail-wind. The windsock indicated up-canyon winds from the N/W,
so down-slope was the logical approach! A good rule here was
early morning operation, landing uphill and only takeoff to the
north. Taking off to the south was always a no-go because of the
high hills and mountains in the way. If you cannot out-fly the
terrain, it can be a deadly gamble. I landed in the afternoon, so
uphill landing was iffy. There could be no go-around. Our photos
tell the story of how my flight operation was conducted here, and
shows the landing using a left-hand traffic pattern. Basically, I
followed the terrain, cleared the trees and dropped down onto the
grass.
As I rolled to a stop to secure my plane, a house across
Thompson Creek emptied of people, Two adults and a mess
of kids came running across the creek see who this
“barnstormer” was! The kids wanted to see the cockpit with all
its instruments, sit in the cockpit and so on. They were a very
nice family. I told them my mission and next thing I knew, I was
invited for dinner! I had planned to camp under the plane
in my sleeping bag, but they would not hear of it, and so I
spent the night in their warm house instead! What a neat
visit it was. Trying to get the kids to go to bed was a challenge
for the adults. Just too much excitement and too many
stories to tell!
The next morning I gave a ride as a reward. I made a solo take-off
first, to familiarize myself with the grass strip. Then I took the
father in the family up. He had never seen the place from this
perspective and he was thrilled. Carrying extra weight meant a
longer take-off run to clear the trees at the end of the runway.
When our visit concluded, I said my goodbyes and prepared to
start the engine again.
A Random photograph of the Oregon Cascades!
It would not start!
Oh, the starter turned all-right, but the starter clutch would not
engage the propeller! I could not find anything wrong in the
engine. There were no oil leaks or any obvious signs of troubles!
So I went back to the tried-and-true method of HAND-
PROPPING the engine. I set the brakes, cracked the throttle a bit
and hand-pulled the prop through its cycle. First time it did not
catch. The second time was full contact. I jumped in the plane to
manage the engine. I waved goodbye to my hosts and taxied
to the end of the runway. All along, I checked to make sure
I did not have any other issues. Engine run-up was normal,
the magnetos checked out and there was no carburetor
icing. The takeoff was normal, I cleared the trees and when safe to
do so, I made a 360 degree turn, climbed above the scattered low
clouds and the Greyback Mountains and began my trip south!
The way it turned out, I had to prop the airplane on each landing
til I got home so my mechanic could deal with the problem. It
was a minor clutch issue, as it turned out.
I left Thompson Creek as early as the low clouds would permit.
Once airborne, I filed my VFR flight plan with the local Flight
Service for my first destination, Ukiah, California. The route of
flight took me over the Trinity Alps, one of the most remote areas
in the USA. The pictures show the sights. It was very much a
“Lone Ranger” type of flight. No-one around for miles…..
Eventually the harsh mountain landscape became more rolling. I
passed the Yolla Bolla Wilderness (yes, that is what it is called!)
and settled into a seeing a softer landscape. The morning low
clouds had dissipated. The flight took a little more than two-and-
one-half hours of smooth sailing.
Ukiah, California is in the wine country of Mendocino and is a
TYPICAL California scene with Oak trees, Madrone Trees
(unique to the area) and chaparral hillsides. The airport was an
easy find, I refueled and spent some time relaxing. I was not in a
hurry and kept myself well-watered and fed! I propped the plane
again!
The next planned stop was Paso Robles, a scenic town on the
Central California Coast south of San Francisco. Crossing the
Golden Gate was a sight. Not many get to fly over the bridge that
close to the water. But I stayed clear of the San Francisco Airport
traffic pattern and headed south along the coast to Big Sur. I
avoided the military restricted area as I moved south. Eventually
Paso Robles came into sight almost three hours later. It was now
late afternoon. I made this a serious rest-stop, planning to fly
direct to my home base at Fallbrook. The timing meant I would be
landing after dusk and I planned for an alternate airport in the
event Fallbrook was not usable due to landing lights not working
or due to fog and low clouds. I propped the plane for the last
time!
The trip south from Paso Robles was nice. The late afternoon sun
gave a certain glow to the hillsides of the Los Padres National
Forest. Once while I was looking around for other aircraft, I was
surprised to see one pass a few hundred feet below me headed
in a southwest direction! It woke me up to the fact that even
in visual flying, one cannot be careful enough. Mid-air
collisions are rare, but can happen if two pilots do not see each
other! I did not want to be “the rare one!”
Dusk fell, and night along with it. Once I cleared the crest of the
mountains, the entire Los Angeles Basin lay before me with
millions of lights! It was breathtaking. I flew at about 10,000 feet
over LAX, and could see the planes landing and taking off below.
Eventually, I cleared the basin as well as Orange County to the
south.
At last it was time for the decent to my home airport at Fallbrook.
I sold off the altitude with nose down, increased speed and less
power and lost all the lights of the city as they passed behind
me. My concern now was the coastal low clouds. They had
already formed along the water, but had not seriously invaded
inland. Below two thousand feet, the smell of moisture
penetrated the cabin, and I looked for the landing lights marking
the short 2000 foot runway. My eyes slowly became accustomed
to the darkness. Since I was very familiar with the area, I found
the lights fairly easy and focused on them. I was high, so I
added 40 degrees of flaps and idled the engine.
The landing approach was very normal, my landing lights lit up
the runway, I touched down beyond the threshold and rolled
to a short stop. I taxied to the turnoff then taxied further to my
hanger to secure the airplane.
I was home again, the adventure was over!
Written and photographed by
Harald Hesstvedt Scharnhorst
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