Gathering of Luscombes 2022

[birdus]

Part 1 (Thun Field to Alturas, CA)

My usual method of flight planning involves opening Google Maps, switching to the very cool “Terrain View,” and then right-clicking to measure distance, then clicking the end point. I then proceed to look for mountains, valleys, and other terrain features that might be interesting to fly past, clicking along those points. Then I open my “electronic flight bag,” re-entering that route approximately, and altering the line to include airports along the way that I might want to visit or where I’d need to re-fuel.

The easterly route from Thun Field to Alturas, California would’ve been neat, but as the day grew nearer, I realized this long, drawn out Pacific Northwest winter wasn’t done yet. Between the distance I live from the airport and the lousy winter we’ve had, I hadn’t flown in months, and that made the decision just to follow I-5 south the obvious choice (i.e., weather plus lack of currency).

Upon departing Thun Field (KPLU), I began dodging clouds almost immediately, but definitely felt a bit of ease at having I-5 in sight. I could glide to it if off to the side, or I could fly low over it, knowing that I could just follow its path and not worry about obstructions. Before long, however, all I could see over it was just a solid, opaque, wall of grey. There was clearly a massive amount of rain coming down and I didn’t want to fly through that. I preferred to dodge the storm, despite being over more remote terrain and away from the freeway. I was down near Kelso by then. I flew to the west for a few miles, crossed the Columbia River and continued over the hills just to the south, and then proceeded just east of Scappoose.

There were a few planes doing pattern work in the rain at Scappoose. I hopped on the radio and commented that they were hardcore. As I passed Scappoose, the rain intensified. I wasn’t too worried. I was pretty low, visibility wasn’t too bad, the air was relatively smooth, and I could see the ground. I saw a few drops of water running down my A-pillars. Not bad for my 75-year-old Luscombe 8E. Apparently, however, rain had been gathering in the left wing-root cover, as numerous large drops began raining down from the top of the window along my left elbow right on top of my Bose A20 control unit, which I keep attached to the map pocket in the left door.

It was either the rain or the batteries had died, as the noise cancelling on my headset had ceased cancelling the awful noise of my motorized tin can. How irritating! I struggled to get the battery door off, breaking its “lanyard” in the process, popped out the batteries, opened the glovebox and got some new batteries, put the new batteries in the headset, and said a little prayer. Nothing. Okay. So, the Bose A20 doesn’t like water. I wished I had brought my 2nd set. I dreaded flying the rest of the trip without noise cancelling.

I yanked out the new batteries and set the headset on top of the panel. If the sun ever came out, maybe when the control unit dried out, the cancellation would be uncancelled.

First stop of the trip? Independence State Airport (7S5) in Oregon. I needed to use the restroom, so I thought it would be a good time to fiddle with the headset some more, too. I don’t know if there’s another restroom at the airport, but the restaurant said I had to buy something to use theirs, and so I did. Turned out I was hungry, anyway, so, after using the restroom, I sat for a bit, fiddled with my iPad, ate, drank, and relaxed.

By the time I was ready to go, the A20 was up and running again. Phew!

Not having flown in months, I didn’t want to look like an idiot when I landed at Columbia, and so I was determined to get some practice in on the way down. The next airport was Albany, a really short flight from Independence. Some airports aren’t too interesting to land at, but others more so. Albany is right next to I-5, so coming in over the freeway and departing over the freeway was fun. Ditto for the next airport, Hobby Field (77S). Cottage Grove State Airport (61S) was even more interesting. I botched the pattern entry, as it was right hand, but no one was around, so it wasn’t the end of the world. I got on the right side of the runway, which was the left side, flew a downwind close to some hills, hung a right, and made a fun approach over the Row River.

After heading out from Cottage Grove, I figured I’d continue my nice, safe flight over I-5. At that point, there was nothing but mountains dead ahead…and another wall of grey. I sidestepped the wall of water and headed into the mountains. Fun times. There was a little bit of turbulence, but not terrible. Coming into Roseburg was pretty sporty, though. A couple big gusts, and a head slamming somewhere along the way. A Cessna was taking off as I approached the pattern, so I figured it couldn’t be too bad. What’s a Citation? After the clouds, the rain, and the wind, I was happy to be down.

They were having issues with the credit card reader, so after quite a bit of fiddling and manual intervention by the FBO folks, I got topped off and continued on my way. Although I’d been planning on landing at Myrtle Creek Municipal Airport (16S), I’d climbed up a few thousand feet as I wanted to try and avoid turbulence, and so decided I’d skip it. Didn’t wanna give up that altitude and then have to regain it. But then I noticed that my oil pressure was low. I knew it was a simple matter of needing to top it off, and so I pulled carb heat, pulled the throttle, trimmed up, and let the plane fall. What a beautiful setting, nestled in the mountains, with a fun approach over the South Umpqua River.

I added oil, then went over to ask an old geezer where the garbage was. Turns out he was the airport manager. And he used to live on Vashon Island! He asked if I’d ever landed there (on Vashon). I told him that in fact I had landed there on the way home after passing my check ride. He’s since lived all over the world, and has now been the airport manager there at Myrtle Creek for 12 years. The airport was closed for a year getting a new runway and other work, during which time they lost a lot of their tenants. He pointed to some of the nice, new equipment they have. Now I guess they just need more planes. After a pleasant chat with him, I asked where the garbage can was. He said he’d take care of it, but I insisted I would do it. I like throwing out my own trash and a few extra steps would be good for me.

He waved as I took off—my little C-85 breathing a sigh of relief at the extra oil—and I gave him a big wing rock in return.

Grants Pass Airport (3S8) and Ashland Municipal Airport/Sumner Parker Field (S03) were next in line and were uneventful. Just a couple more practice approaches and landings. In between the two, I passed by Medford, where I’d stay the night on the way home. By that point, I’d made the turn eastward and was headed more or less directly to Alturas, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some excitement left to be had.

Next in line? Pinehurst State Airport (24S). I had to climb over some hills to get from Ashland to Pinehurst. Now the sun was out, the ground was heating up, and the winds and gusts were getting going. I skimmed the hilltops, then began dropping down a bit to look for Pinehurst. There was just a slice of trees removed from the middle of the forest, so it was a little tricky to locate, but thank heavens we have GPS. Makes life easy. I’d initially thought it was another nearby clearing, but that was New Frontier Ranch, a “flower farm.” (https://newfrontierranch.com/) As I got close, however, I spotted the airport. On my first pass, I came in high and fast. The gusts were getting interesting. I was still super high, so I went around, not having gotten anywhere near the runway. No problem. I’d seen the target and would give it another shot. My pattern was okay, and I was still high, but a 1,300 fpm downdraft on final helped me lose altitude. I dropped below the treetops, hoping to salvage my high and fast approach. It was then that I got a good look at the runway. It looked like a roller coaster and trended downhill. This strip is 2,800 x 30. It was stupid gusty, I’d already eaten up half the strip, and temps were getting hot out. Pardon the French, but no ****ing way. I firewalled it and began to climb out—sort of. I cleared the trees at the end, but not by a lot. The gusts were total bonkers and I was getting bounced around like mad, but focused on my airspeed and attitude. I figured things would work out eventually, and they did. I made it to higher altitudes and away from the crazy bumps. Maybe another day.

Last stop of the day? Alturas (KAAT). Most of this last bit was uneventful. My normal cruise speed is around 100 mph, but for much of this last leg I was cruising along at a pleasant 135 mph (over the ground due to a tailwind). Not too shabby for a Luscombe. The end of a long day can become a slog and minutes seem to stop ticking by, so the extra push is welcome.

The ASOS at Alturas called out 24-gusting-35, so that was exciting. They have multiple runways, so that improves one’s chances of survival, but there are no guarantees. I did okay, but it was definitely one of the top few challenging landings I’ve ever had due to gusty winds.

As I was buttoning the plane up after dumping my wallet into the fuel tanks, I saw a kid standing over by the building. He stood there a while, I looked over at him, and he finally started walking over. I waved, walked over to greet him, and shook his hand. Turns out, Randall recognized my plane from last fall when I stayed there en route to the High Sierra Fly-In. He lives right next to the airport where his family owns a shed-building business. He has a handheld radio and listens to the weather and the planes coming and going, and has quite a good knowledge of aviation and an acute interest in it. I invited him to look in my plane which he accepted excitedly, and we chatted for quite a while.

I knew this was a nice little town and that the airport had a courtesy car and so I thought it would be a good stop along the way. I’ll plan on staying here again, as that experience was reaffirmed.

 

[birdus]

Part 2 (Alturas to Columbia, CA)

After getting out to the airport at a decent time (9AM is pretty good for me), I had a nice chat with Joe Picotte, the Public Works Director of Alturas. Since it’s a small town, he does a lot, including work at the airport. He told me about the challenges of getting everything done on a tight budget, about trying to take advantage of federal grants, and about doling work out to the state, when possible, such as for calibrating the landing system.

After taking off, I announced I’d be circling the airport at low altitude. I flew over Randall’s shop and figured he might come out to look. No sign of him yet. I did a 180 and came back the other direction. Sure enough, there he was, looking up. I gave him a healthy wing rock and a shout out on the radio before departing the area to the southwest.

My first airport of the day was California Pines Airport (A24). It looked like a residential airpark with quite sparsely populated houses. Pretty cool. Makes one dream. After a quick landing, taxi back, and takeoff, I headed for the next landing of the day, Ravendale Airport (O39). As I flew there, I recognized some of the terrain I’d flown past on the way to the High Sierra Fly-In. It was quite gusty and the approach was over a small stop on a highway. That runway is 2,607 x 30 feet, so it was all pretty exciting. The takeoff was just about as exciting as the landing. I really had to stay on top of it. Just after I lifted off, I pushed over to stay in ground effect and adjusted for the crosswind. I was flying pretty dang sideways, right down the centerline. I had to be careful of my airspeed on climb out as it was quickly dropping below Vy, gusts a contributing factor, I believe. I exercised a little caution, continued the climb, and turned back towards the south.

Next was Herlong Airport (H37). Even with the GPS, it was tricky to find. I used a little bit of my old school learnings from when I was a student, and looked at where it was situated relative to the town and some roads, and eventually found it. What was particularly interesting was that as I was flying the teardrop, I noticed a very interesting complex below me. Looked new. Turns out it was a federal prison. That was fun. I wondered what the guards were thinking at this low-flying plane. No sweat getting in and out of Herlong.

Flying to Reno-Stead (KRTS) from there had me on edge. I was flying between some non-tiny mountains and the winds were nipping at me. I was anxious to get down and so flew a straight in for runway 8. It was kinda fun, though, coming in low over the hills and outlying houses off the west end of the airport. I was hoping to cross paths with Trent Palmer. I wanted to wish him well and tell him the FAA was full of ****, but I never saw him. It’s a pretty big airport, and so I shouldn’t have been surprised. Turns out I had to go to the bathroom, though, and so the short break was appreciated. There were some folks there having a BBQ and that looked fun, but they didn’t invite me over, and I had the Sierra Nevada to cross and knew I shouldn’t put it off.

I blasted off and continued south. I squeaked past the western edge of the Reno Class-C airspace up against the mountains, and then past Carson City. That was kind of fun to see, as I’d landed there on my big “Luscombe Road Trip 2020” adventure (that video episode is coming up soon!). I plowed ahead towards the southern end of the valley to see about landing at Alpine County Airport (M45). It was in the foothills and I didn’t know what to expect. I was a bit apprehensive since it was getting a little bumpy and the density altitude was rising. As I made my approach, there were some drafts, but I committed out loud to abandoning this airport if it didn’t look good. It was bumpy on final, but then smoothed out and my landing was fine. There was a vehicle of someone camping nearby and it looked like a pretty awesome spot for such things.

Okay. Only one thing left to do. Climb from 6 thousand feet up to 10 thousand feet and fly over a massive mountain range. I had a route mapped out starting over a road and then through some valleys. I was initially just going to head over to the road and follow it in, but I made the decision to orbit a time or two before entering the jaws of death. I decided on 9,000 at least, but not long after heading into the mountains got up to 10,200. I was very, very happy about that, although I probably would’ve been okay heading in while still lower. Sometimes I’m aggressive, but sometimes I’m conservative. I don’t regret this conservative choice at all.

It was pretty smooth up high and at that altitude I could see all the way across. Those two things really put me at ease. After getting past a certain point I’d mapped out, I began to descend. I’d planned on flying over a few lakes and then down a valley all the way to the airport. It was a kick flying low over the lakes, but there were still some drafts and so I didn’t go crazy. The winds could still easily push me down way faster than the lowly Luscombe can climb. The big joy of the day came when I got to the valley. I throttled back, got down in there, and basically coasted for almost 40 miles over the Middle Fork Stanislaus River and low over Beardsley Lake. Totally awesome!

As I approached Columbia Airport (O22), I got the weather and then began hearing some chatter on the radio. I’d never heard the word “Luscombe” uttered so many times at an airport. Pretty cool. After orbiting the airport above pattern altitude to get my standard left wing video shot, I joined the pattern and came in for landing on 29, the grass strip there. I’d gotten some good landing practice in over those two days and didn’t embarrass myself. I taxied back across the airport to fill up, then came back and parked my plane where it would remain for the next 3 days. Success! No near-death experiences and only a few minor hiccups along the way. On top of that, a bit of awesome flying here and there. Couldn’t ask for much more. Welcome to the Gathering of Luscombes 2022!

 

[birdus]

Part 3 (Gathering of Luscombes 2022)

The Gathering of Luscombes is held the 3rd weekend in May and has been going on for something like 4 decades. Meals are provided, including wonderful lunches and dinners on Friday and Saturday. The fly-in starts on Friday, and folks fly out on Sunday.

My first one was 3 years ago, before I owned a plane or was a pilot. I had the chance to meet George Periera and sit with him for a few hours in his dining room in Sacramento, chatting about his life and his various airplane designs. I’m happy that I was able to purchase a set of GP-4 plans directly from him. I drove down from Tacoma on Friday and back on Sunday, spending two nights in Sacramento, and driving out to Columbia on Saturday.

This year’s “gathering” was my first trip there as a pilot and in my own bird. There were somewhere around 20 Luscombes and probably a dozen other planes, including a high-performance, clipped-wing Taylorcraft, a couple Cessna 180s, and a variety of other planes.

It’s a pretty easy-going fly-in, but there are some regularly scheduled events each year, all mashed together: a short takeoff contest, a flour bomb contest, and a short landing contest. Those were held Saturday morning and were quite entertaining, especially when one contestant came within a hair’s breadth of hitting the barrel with their flour bomb and everyone gasped and cheered. There’s no question it’s a very difficult task. There were also some excellent landings, much closer to a line than I could get on purpose, and my brakes don’t do much of anything, so that wouldn’t help me any in stopping quickly. Then there are the 150-horse Luscombes. Although the big engines do add weight, they also turn your ship into the rocket variety. Pretty cool.

The campground is a popular hangout, with palatial tents (hi, Shelly!) down to your garden variety two-mans, and multiple camp fires each night. Besides the camp fires, picnic tables are a good spot for meeting and spending time with other lovers of aviation, both at meals and after hours.

People sleep either in town (about a mile away) in a hotel, or at the campground, or under their wing. We’re in the middle of moving, so my tent was packed away, but there wasn’t much room in the plane anyway, so I just rolled out a sleeping bag under my wing. The campground declares quiet time from 10PM to 7AM, which worked out perfectly, since I hit the hay around 10. Unfortunately, the drunk people who were driving around in a golf cart, yelling, at 11PM, apparently didn’t get the memo. Or they figured that if they weren’t actually driving around in the middle of the campground that being loud and obnoxious was totally cool. My ear plugs were inadequate to the task. I got 2 nights of less-than-stellar slumber. At least the wind was calm and it didn’t rain. It was a bit chilly, though. Beautiful and probably in the 80s during the day.

Although well-organized, the Gathering of Luscombes strikes me as an informal, low-key, couple days to just hang out with other people who love airplanes and flying. People who have been numerous times over the years reunite with old friends, and neophytes like me make new ones. And remember, you don’t need to own, or even have flown, a Luscombe to come. Luscombes are the focus, but it’s really just another fly-in, so all are welcome.

 

[birdus]

Part 4 (Columbia, CA to Medford, OR)

I’d wanted to fly at least part way home with some other Luscombes, if possible, not having flown formation before. It looked like I was going to be on my own, so I fired up my Luscombe after having gotten everything packed and gotten a little breakfast in the clubhouse, and began to taxi. Then, I got a text back from Jon Borchers. He and his dad were in town getting breakfast and would be back to the airport shortly. Since my engine was already running, I decided to fly a couple circuits around 29, the grass runway. After that, I taxied over to the apron near the pumps and waited for Jon and his dad, Lee. We did a little coordinating and then took off. We took off on the pavement, as they were quite heavy and it would be seriously interesting for them to try making it over the hill and trees at the end of 29. I followed shortly behind them. Jon flew a 270 and then came back around for a low pass over 29 as a goodbye for the remaining folks and I followed him around and down. As I flew down the runway about 30 feet off the deck, I held full right rudder and almost full left aileron. In my mind, it looked totally bad ass, but in reality, who knows?

As we turned north, I gained on them over the first few miles. After finally catching up, I spent probably the next 30-40 minutes practicing flying in formation. It was pretty cool. As I tried different things and commented on the challenges, Jon gave me a few tips over the radio. I probably got within 30-50 feet, and was able to dive down and scooch over to the other side, and then pull back up into position relatively quickly and precisely. Not 100%, but not bad. After a while, I backed off, as I was feeling a bit tired from the requisite concentration. It was a good first bit of formation flying, and I hope to try it again later.

I had told Jon I wanted to do some low flying over Lake Oroville, and so as we approached it, he told me they were going to head over to Red Bluff and we could meet up there. I peeled off and came in low over the lake, something I totally love. I came in slightly from the east over the water and then climbed up and over Bidwell Bar Bridge before heading over to the dam for an orbit. Then I headed up the north arm. When I saw that it was quite hemmed in by mountains, I began climbing and then popped over the mountains to the west, heading towards Red Bluff.

My mind was going in a million directions—or maybe no directions. Despite our wonderful iPads, you have to pay attention. I may or may not have busted the corner of the Chico Class-D.

I heard Jon on the CTAF just a few miles ahead of me and followed him in, making a mediocre wheel landing. We both got some gas and stretched a bit, and then headed back out. This was Lee’s leg to fly.

I rolled out on the runway right after them and so I’m pretty sure my forward-facing video camera got the gusty excitement that Lee dealt with on takeoff. As I took off, I definitely understood why his plane was bucking. I had to sidestep to the left as I easily gained on and outclimbed them. That, however, wouldn’t last.

We climbed up and over the Redding Class-D, but then disaster struck. Well, not really disaster. My headset batteries died. I was probably within a quarter mile of the lead Luscombe, so I backed off some. I didn’t want to have to worry about them while I put new batteries in the headset. The problem was that after I got fresh batteries in the headset, I couldn’t see the other plane. Over the next 80 minutes, or so, we played a game of cat and mouse. I tried and tried and tried to find them. On a couple occasions, I might have spotted them in the distance, but I wasn’t sure. I asked them their altitude and where they were relative to I-5 or some foothills on the east side of the valley or a lake or a mountain. It was extremely disconcerting knowing there was another plane in the vicinity but not being able to see them. I didn’t like that one bit!

Eventually, as we approached Medford, I got a lock on them. They were a few miles ahead and I didn’t even try to catch them at that point. In fact, I had throttled back some, believing I probably couldn’t catch them, and not caring, as we were about to part ways. Nearing Medford, Lee spotted a small fire off to the east. He switched frequencies and told Medford about it. After he came back, I thanked them for letting me tag along and told them I was going to get the weather and call Medford. I wished them safe travels and they me. I believe they were going to make a stop at Grants Pass before making one final push to Independence.

I tuned in the ATIS, listened for a while, then switched over to tower. Being somewhat of a neophyte pilot, there’s a lot I haven’t heard or done. This was one of ‘em. The controller asked me to hold 5 miles to the south. He asked me if I was familiar with “the manor,” and I replied that I was not. He said there’s a hill with some big buildings on it next to the freeway. I located it and began to orbit around it. I guess I was supposed to stay south of it rather than orbit around it, so he called me again and told me to stay a half mile farther south.

While I waited, I heard some chit chat with a T-38 that was going to do some pattern work, some other small planes, and an incoming regional jet. The tower asked me if I had the RJ in sight. He said it was coming in from the west. That would be a left base for 32. I took a peek out to the west and spotted him pretty easily. I told the tower I had him in sight. I held for probably a good 10 minutes. The tower asked how my fuel was and replied that I had plenty. After a few more minutes, he cleared me to land. He asked what my speed was and I replied with “about 90 miles an hour.” He then made a call to some incoming traffic whom he told to slow to 150 knots.

After landing, I switched to ground and taxied to Million Air where I inquired as to the whereabouts of the self-serve pumps. Getting to the gas was a bit of a maze, but I achieved success. On the way, I taxied past a hangar with a local working on his plane. He walked over to the pumps from his nearby hangar. He had been doing some fiddling on his A-65-powered Pietenpol, and we talked a bit. He had heard my hold and said it can get pretty bad when it’s busy. I commented on how the fuel pumps were in the middle of nowhere, and he said “No they’re not! They’re in the perfect spot!”

After topping up, I taxied back over to Million Air. It was a bit easier getting back after learning the route. A young lad named Max parked me. He was in the national guard and wanted to learn gunsmithing as a career. He loved planes, though, too, and wanted to learn to fly. He was a cool guy and gave me a lift to the hotel.

I was wiped out and was so happy to be at the hotel. I love hotels. I collect the little soaps they give you. I called my wife to let her know I wasn’t dead, chugged some Coke, got some batteries charging, started copying some video files, and took a shower. I was so happy to be at the hotel!

 

[birdus]

Part 5 (Medford to Thun Field)

Having gotten 2 nights of mediocre sleep on the ground over the weekend, I was happy to be in a comfy hotel bed. I woke up refreshed, grabbed a shower, and got an early ride from Million Air back to the airport, only about a mile away, right around 7AM. That was my earliest start of the trip, and would be the best flying weather of the trip, at least for much of the day.

The airport was quiet. After an easy pre-flight, I got the weather, called ground, taxied to the runway, called tower, and I was outta there. I made a mid-field takeoff, turned out early to the north, and I was on my way home.

With calm winds and clear skies, I was looing forward to doing some of the kind of flying I enjoy most, buzzing close to the mountains, low over rivers, and just being able to relax. I stayed below the peaks and flew along a valley and over Lost Creek Lake. Situated along the Rogue River and near the small town of Prospect, Prospect State Airport (64S) is in a lovely setting, remote and beautiful. Every one of today’s airport would be in a similarly beautiful setting—until I got back to my home airport, anyway. I overflew the airport and took a look at the windsock, then made an easy pattern entry and approach. I was, however, distracted by an only partially depleted can of Coke and that didn’t help my landing any. I landed runway 20 and, since the wind was calm, merely rolled out to the end for a departure in the opposite direction. The cracks in the pavement were cavernous and my tailwheel made quite a racket as it rolled over them. With the nearby river, a waterfall, B&B, and at least one restaurant, Prospect, Oregon might be a nice place for a quiet weekend getaway.

Crater Lake was about a dozen miles east of my route, but I’d already been there and wanted to make a moderate bee-line for home. I’d definitely go there again sometime, just not this time.

Next in line was Toketee State Airport (3S6). I was a little more apprehensive about that. It’s a grass strip and the sun was up. What was density altitude? Were there trees at the end? If you don’t know what you’re looking for, Toketee could definitely be tricky to find. As I approached the neighborhood, I was able to make out what was basically a shadow line created by the mile-long bit of missing forest. It looked like a beautiful grass strip and there was little discernable wind, so I went for it. Upon landing, all that was confirmed. It’s definitely a beautiful strip of grass! Wanna get away from our insane world for a bit? Take your tent and go to Toketee State Airport in Oregon. I feel confident in saying you’ll enjoy some peace and quiet at a great strip. I taxied back and made a very easy takeoff, clearing the trees at the far end by a mile. A figurative mile, that is.

Of all the airports at which I landed on this trip, I had landed at 2 of them previously: Alturas and the next one in line, Oakridge State Airport (5S0). I went to Alturas because I knew it was a nice little town to spend a night at, and I went to Oakridge State because the approach is really cool and I hadn’t done a great job the first time I landed there. I wanted to nail it after all the thought I had given it since the first time. It’s also a nice, peaceful location that would be good for a short rest. I came in low along the Middle Fork Willamette River and then over Hills Creek Reservoir. As I neared the end of the lake, I announced my position and began climbing to get up to pattern altitude. The town is set in a valley and so makes for a cozy pattern. As I sort of expected, there were no other planes around, but I flew my usual teardrop to a 45 to a downwind. This time, my altitude turning from downwind was good. I flew a curved downwind to final and came in low along the descending terrain which took me right to the numbers, flying that curved path all the way to the tarmac. I flew an excellent approach and landing, just as I’d been visualizing it since my first time here, which was sub-par.

I used the porta potty, then sat at the picnic table and finished off the grapes I’d brought with me at the start of the trip. They were still good. It was the nice, relaxing break I’d expected.

After taking off from Oakridge State, I stayed low over the river for a bit, then began climbing, as I had lots of mountains to get over. Only two more airports on my list. Next in line was Davis Airport (6S4). GPS made it easy for me to get in the vicinity, but I wasn’t sure I’d found it at first. I compared its location relative to the town and nearby road, but I didn’t think the chart and GPS were in very good agreement. After an orbit, I decided I had, in fact, found it. It’s a 1940 x 50 foot grass strip that totally looked like it was just some farmer’s field. Even after landing, I wasn’t sure I hadn’t just landed in someone’s yard. Taxiing back for takeoff, I saw a few rundown houses and a bunch of junk out in the yard—pretty much what you’d expect at a lot of farms—but then I saw a small sign that verified it was Davis Airport. Kind of hilarious. There was a slight hill with trees on it at the end, so I advanced the throttle with a bit of trepidation. Full forward stick to get the tail up, get the wing streamlined with the relative wind, and get full thrust from my lowly C-85. No drama.

I climbed up and away and got about even with all the surrounding mountains, although it did take Vy until the last minute to get over the next peak to the north. Only one airport left: Valley View Airport (5S9).

At this point, I was beginning to weigh whether or not I would stop for fuel before getting home. I didn’t want to be that idiot who tried to stretch my fuel based on willpower and positive thoughts and then crash because that’s such a stupid thing to try. However, if I could make with plenty to spare and not have to make an extra stop, there’s no good reason not to do that. So, I looked at my fuel remaining, how far I had to go, my ground speed, options for landing to get gas along the way, and mulled things over. At one point, I was going to skip Valley View just to save gas, but my route took me directly over it, so why not?

Oddly, the chart seemed to indicate that it was an 8,500-foot+ runway—based on the graphic—so I was looking for a sprawling airport. It took me until just a few miles out to find it. Turns out it’s a small airport community with a pretty small, not-easy-to-find runway. It was right along my path, however, and so I just announced—before I found it even—that I would try for a straight in, traffic allowing. I located it when only a few miles out and was surprised that it wasn’t what I expected. A Cherokee was holding short and said they’d wait for me, but I told them I was slow and that they were welcome to go, and so they did. My landing was uneventful. I taxied off the runway, fixed an irritating, out-of-whack shoulder harness, back-taxied, and then departed.

Back to the fuel situation. I had switched to my full tank for that landing and takeoff, but once back in the air and leveled off, I switched back to my nearly-empty left tank. I would plan on running it dry to maximize my range. I kept to the east of Troutdale’s Class-D airspace and plodded along. I had decided to go for home with remaining fuel, and as I went, of course, my confidence at the fuel situation would increase. Before too much longer, I was highly confident I’d make home with plenty of fuel to spare. I crossed the impressive Columbia River and was now entering familiar territory. The increasing clouds, however, made things less obvious than they would normally be. With clouds covering most of Mt. St. Helens, its telltale blown top was covered up. As I passed by it, though, Spirit Lake and some other features distinguished it from Mt. Rainier and Mt. Adams.

I wasn’t far below a solid ceiling, but still had a thousand feet or two between them and the mountainous terrain. I enjoyed maneuvering between a few sparse clouds. Not enough to worry me.

Oil pressure was dropping again. I would keep a close eye on it until on the ground in Puyallup.

I never did see Mt. Rainier, the one stunning feature that I normally consider my primary landmark and my big “welcome home sign.” Upon flying past Morton, I veered east slightly to take advantage of the lower valley. After that, I knew I was in the clear. Winds at Thun Field (KPLU) were variable, but a couple planes were in the pattern and were using 17, so I veered to the east again to fly over the water tower on a 45 to join up on a left downwind for that runway.

My landing wasn’t all that good, but I didn’t care. I was just glad to be home. I sold a kidney and topped up, then taxied over to my tie down and went through the ritual of tying down, transferring all my stuff to the car, and buttoning up the plane. Added some oil, too.

Phew! That was quite a trip. I dodged an awful lot of weather, flew through some of it, dealt with a few new challenges, enjoyed a fly-in, and made it home none the worse for wear. I should’ve added some oil at Valley View, but made it home with the engine still running. Live and learn. I did have plenty of fuel upon arriving home. That’s another great adventure in the bag.

 

[Kent Wien]

I flew to the Luscombe fly-in in 1989 from Crest Airpark (S36) to Columbia in N71808. Won the hard luck trophy and the youngest pilot award. 110 Luscombe that year.

How many were there this year? I’d love to go back.

 

[birdus]

I flew to the Luscombe fly-in in 1989 from Crest Airpark (S36) to Columbia in N71808. Won the hard luck trophy and the youngest pilot award. 110 Luscombe that year.

110?!?!?!? WOW!!!! There were around 20, plus maybe a dozen non-Luscombes.