Tales from the Log of the Ruptured Duck
- Thread starter Kayak Jack
- Start date
A Little Trip To Hell And Back
There's a local canoe trip that we call "To Hell And Back". All states have some towns, tucked away, with strange names. Michigan is no exception. Keith San is from Iron River. Other names include Colon, Cold Water, Bad Axe, Climax, and Hell. Yesterday, I flew to Hell and back.
From home base, Mason Jewett Field in Mason MI, I flew directly to Gregory's Richmond Field (where they launch a lot of gliders) as a nav point, then turned SE'ly. Two miles ahead is Bruin Lake. It looks like a big keyhole, with the small, pointy part aiming up and to the right (NE'ly), and the round hole pointing down and to your left. On it's NW'ly shoulder is Bruin Lake State Park. This is our launching point for canoes & kayaks.
The entire area is in the Pinkney Recreational Area. At least three glaciers scraped back and forth over Michigan, depositing some of Canada down here. A strip of hills and hollers runs for 40-50 miles in roughly a north-south orientation. Lots of sand, lots of gullies, lots of small lakes - all of them irregularly shaped. Bruin Lake, Patterson Lake, Blind Lake, and our destination of Hi-Land Lake. It's a man "accentuated" lake, because a slough was dammed up to deepen it. Up a the far end of Hi-Land Lake is the dam, tiny town of Hell, and the Dam Site Inn. The inn is our paddling destination. Good hamburgers and beer.
"Detroit approach, Cessna 2111 Yankee at three thousand. I will be maneuvering in this area for about 10 minutes for photo work. request flight following, please?"
I wanted to see what it looks like from the air. I'd been pretty hesitant to fly it solo because of the gawking factor. Yesterday I just told myself, "Three second looks only! Nothing protracted. FLY THE PLANE (Aviate, navigate, communicate" -in that order - they are the priorities). So, off I went.
Clear skies gave lots of visibility. I could see clear down to Looozianna; I saw Joey selling John Deere parts to a fellow in a plaid shirt. And, there was the route. It looks like it looks on the topo maps, and aerial photographs. Plus some fishing boats and their attendant wakes; some fly casters up near shore, and a few kids swimming. I ran the route from the southwest to the northeast, Turned and reversed it. "Detroit approach, One One Yankee. Complete with maneuvering, and returning to Tango Echo Whiskey. Thanks for the flight following."
The flight home was just the way you want it - uneventful. I landed long, but smooth (for a change), and refueled. Taxied the Duck back to its hangar and washed off the bugs. We'd cheated Death again.
There's a local canoe trip that we call "To Hell And Back". All states have some towns, tucked away, with strange names. Michigan is no exception. Keith San is from Iron River. Other names include Colon, Cold Water, Bad Axe, Climax, and Hell. Yesterday, I flew to Hell and back.
From home base, Mason Jewett Field in Mason MI, I flew directly to Gregory's Richmond Field (where they launch a lot of gliders) as a nav point, then turned SE'ly. Two miles ahead is Bruin Lake. It looks like a big keyhole, with the small, pointy part aiming up and to the right (NE'ly), and the round hole pointing down and to your left. On it's NW'ly shoulder is Bruin Lake State Park. This is our launching point for canoes & kayaks.
The entire area is in the Pinkney Recreational Area. At least three glaciers scraped back and forth over Michigan, depositing some of Canada down here. A strip of hills and hollers runs for 40-50 miles in roughly a north-south orientation. Lots of sand, lots of gullies, lots of small lakes - all of them irregularly shaped. Bruin Lake, Patterson Lake, Blind Lake, and our destination of Hi-Land Lake. It's a man "accentuated" lake, because a slough was dammed up to deepen it. Up a the far end of Hi-Land Lake is the dam, tiny town of Hell, and the Dam Site Inn. The inn is our paddling destination. Good hamburgers and beer.
"Detroit approach, Cessna 2111 Yankee at three thousand. I will be maneuvering in this area for about 10 minutes for photo work. request flight following, please?"
I wanted to see what it looks like from the air. I'd been pretty hesitant to fly it solo because of the gawking factor. Yesterday I just told myself, "Three second looks only! Nothing protracted. FLY THE PLANE (Aviate, navigate, communicate" -in that order - they are the priorities). So, off I went.
Clear skies gave lots of visibility. I could see clear down to Looozianna; I saw Joey selling John Deere parts to a fellow in a plaid shirt. And, there was the route. It looks like it looks on the topo maps, and aerial photographs. Plus some fishing boats and their attendant wakes; some fly casters up near shore, and a few kids swimming. I ran the route from the southwest to the northeast, Turned and reversed it. "Detroit approach, One One Yankee. Complete with maneuvering, and returning to Tango Echo Whiskey. Thanks for the flight following."
The flight home was just the way you want it - uneventful. I landed long, but smooth (for a change), and refueled. Taxied the Duck back to its hangar and washed off the bugs. We'd cheated Death again.
Flying Along A String Of Pearls
Up at O' Early thirty this morning, and picked up Kathleen at 07:00. Right after we got to the hangar, I gave her a passenger briefing so she would know how to exit the aircraft in an emergency, activate the Personal Locator Beacon in an emergency, how to get and use the fire extinguisher in an emergency, and how to not grab the control yoke to create an emergency.
Pre-flight inspection and weather briefing, pull the Duck out onto the taxiway and crank it up. We flew SE'ly to Honey Acres, a small, sod strip. It was just a nav point, and there we turned W'ly to fly along strings of lakes that looked like a string of pearls from the air. Some lakes lay so low that the shores are not solid ground, and the local water table is so high that you cannot build cottages around the lake. Others are shoulder to shoulder with cottages, docks, jet skis, and all the paraphernalia of summer at the lake. Oddly enough, we saw no one fishing!
Humidity was high, and the haze kept us only about 1,500' -2,000' above the ground for a while. We could see details on the ground from there, and about 10-12 miles ahead. Ground speed was 105-112 mph. Part way through, air traffic control had us climb another thousand feet to get better radar reception for them, and to avoid another aircraft in the area. By then, the haze was burning out, relative humidity was dropping, and visibility was even better.
Hillsdale Field KJYM was right on the route, so we did a full stop landing there to recycle the coffee. James, the field manager came outside to join us at the picnic table. As I reintroduced myself, he said, "There's only one guy flying the Ruptured Duck; I remember you." (Fame eluded me; I'm stuck with notoriety.) I introduced Kathleen and we all had a good time palavering for a while. Then, off we went.
Our first nav point was Coldwater's Branch County Field KOEB. To get there, we overflew a couple more strings of pearls that stretch north/south Near Quincy and Coldwater. These lakes are nice day trips in either canoe or kayak. And, pretty darned good fishing too! No water moccasins or gators though. :wink: Turning right at Coldwater, we flew N'ly along I-69 towards Marshall. We elected to not stop at either Coldwater or Marshall, but return straight to Mason. Kathleen is getting her classroom ready for kids, and meetings with school admin folks take up a lot of time before school starts.
As we approached Mason Jewett field, a friend was just landing and taxiing off the runway. "Hi, Margaret; please say Hi to Dan for me." Having already cheated Death twice in one day - we put the Duck away, and went to town.
Up at O' Early thirty this morning, and picked up Kathleen at 07:00. Right after we got to the hangar, I gave her a passenger briefing so she would know how to exit the aircraft in an emergency, activate the Personal Locator Beacon in an emergency, how to get and use the fire extinguisher in an emergency, and how to not grab the control yoke to create an emergency.
Pre-flight inspection and weather briefing, pull the Duck out onto the taxiway and crank it up. We flew SE'ly to Honey Acres, a small, sod strip. It was just a nav point, and there we turned W'ly to fly along strings of lakes that looked like a string of pearls from the air. Some lakes lay so low that the shores are not solid ground, and the local water table is so high that you cannot build cottages around the lake. Others are shoulder to shoulder with cottages, docks, jet skis, and all the paraphernalia of summer at the lake. Oddly enough, we saw no one fishing!
Humidity was high, and the haze kept us only about 1,500' -2,000' above the ground for a while. We could see details on the ground from there, and about 10-12 miles ahead. Ground speed was 105-112 mph. Part way through, air traffic control had us climb another thousand feet to get better radar reception for them, and to avoid another aircraft in the area. By then, the haze was burning out, relative humidity was dropping, and visibility was even better.
Hillsdale Field KJYM was right on the route, so we did a full stop landing there to recycle the coffee. James, the field manager came outside to join us at the picnic table. As I reintroduced myself, he said, "There's only one guy flying the Ruptured Duck; I remember you." (Fame eluded me; I'm stuck with notoriety.) I introduced Kathleen and we all had a good time palavering for a while. Then, off we went.
Our first nav point was Coldwater's Branch County Field KOEB. To get there, we overflew a couple more strings of pearls that stretch north/south Near Quincy and Coldwater. These lakes are nice day trips in either canoe or kayak. And, pretty darned good fishing too! No water moccasins or gators though. :wink: Turning right at Coldwater, we flew N'ly along I-69 towards Marshall. We elected to not stop at either Coldwater or Marshall, but return straight to Mason. Kathleen is getting her classroom ready for kids, and meetings with school admin folks take up a lot of time before school starts.
As we approached Mason Jewett field, a friend was just landing and taxiing off the runway. "Hi, Margaret; please say Hi to Dan for me." Having already cheated Death twice in one day - we put the Duck away, and went to town.
Going Into Linden
It's going to be thunderbumpers around here for a few days, so I flew yesterday morning - solo this trip.
Linden is a little town in lake country; Price's is the field there; 9G2 is the identifier. Linden was a nice, small, independent community. It is now a suburb of industrial Flint's GM factories. The four, most-dangerous cities in Michigan all are GM towns: Detroit, Flint, Saginaw, & Lansing. Without very much deep thinking, one can almost draw a conclusion about how GM and unions combine to taint a community.
The field is a simple, east/west runway, with larger homes around its NW'ly edge. These homes have garages - and, also a hangar! I'd like to just walk downstairs and have the Duck right there. Handy.
Jumpers were launching and recovering intermittently all day long. So, on the way over, I diverted some to the south to stay out of their way. I didn't want to have a parachutist hung up on the leading edge of a wing. Turns out, that was unnecessary. And - a 25 mph tailwind had my ground speed zipping along at 136-167 mph, and farm fields were going by pretty fast.
A gentle SW'ly wind let me slip right into the downwind leg, extend out over Silver Lake, and do a one wheel landing as I leaned into the light crosswind. As we slowed, the other wheels settled down and added their squeaks. A resident twin Cessna followed me in, so I cleared the runway and went to the parking ramp to let it pass. Then re-entered the runway to taxi back to the approach end, and lifted off. That 25 mph tailwind was now a 25 mph head wind, and ground speed was down around 85 mph. I am now getting a better view of the terrain. This area has lakes of all irregular shapes and sizes sprinkled around like flies on potato salad at a 4th of July picnic. It looks like someone had a large paint brush, dipped it into some deep blue paint, then slung it around - scattering blue blobs all over the landscape. Most of the lakes have cottages on their shoulders, and boats on their brows.
On the trip home, the aircraft with jumpers was up and climbing. Air traffic control vectored me to the north, and up another 1,000 feet to maintain separation. I saw the plane pass right to left, out in front of me, and about 1,000 feet below. Had they not changed my route, it would have been much closer. Tax dollars at work were a good thing there!
I overflew the field at Mason (KTEW), and swung back around to my right to enter the downwind leg of the pattern. Best to avoid flying crossways through the pattern, and risk a near miss or worse. After I put the Duck away, BestSellers Coffee Shop and Vault Deli called out, "Lunchtime!" Harold and Russ were there, and it was pleasant conversation.
It's going to be thunderbumpers around here for a few days, so I flew yesterday morning - solo this trip.
Linden is a little town in lake country; Price's is the field there; 9G2 is the identifier. Linden was a nice, small, independent community. It is now a suburb of industrial Flint's GM factories. The four, most-dangerous cities in Michigan all are GM towns: Detroit, Flint, Saginaw, & Lansing. Without very much deep thinking, one can almost draw a conclusion about how GM and unions combine to taint a community.
The field is a simple, east/west runway, with larger homes around its NW'ly edge. These homes have garages - and, also a hangar! I'd like to just walk downstairs and have the Duck right there. Handy.
Jumpers were launching and recovering intermittently all day long. So, on the way over, I diverted some to the south to stay out of their way. I didn't want to have a parachutist hung up on the leading edge of a wing. Turns out, that was unnecessary. And - a 25 mph tailwind had my ground speed zipping along at 136-167 mph, and farm fields were going by pretty fast.
A gentle SW'ly wind let me slip right into the downwind leg, extend out over Silver Lake, and do a one wheel landing as I leaned into the light crosswind. As we slowed, the other wheels settled down and added their squeaks. A resident twin Cessna followed me in, so I cleared the runway and went to the parking ramp to let it pass. Then re-entered the runway to taxi back to the approach end, and lifted off. That 25 mph tailwind was now a 25 mph head wind, and ground speed was down around 85 mph. I am now getting a better view of the terrain. This area has lakes of all irregular shapes and sizes sprinkled around like flies on potato salad at a 4th of July picnic. It looks like someone had a large paint brush, dipped it into some deep blue paint, then slung it around - scattering blue blobs all over the landscape. Most of the lakes have cottages on their shoulders, and boats on their brows.
On the trip home, the aircraft with jumpers was up and climbing. Air traffic control vectored me to the north, and up another 1,000 feet to maintain separation. I saw the plane pass right to left, out in front of me, and about 1,000 feet below. Had they not changed my route, it would have been much closer. Tax dollars at work were a good thing there!
I overflew the field at Mason (KTEW), and swung back around to my right to enter the downwind leg of the pattern. Best to avoid flying crossways through the pattern, and risk a near miss or worse. After I put the Duck away, BestSellers Coffee Shop and Vault Deli called out, "Lunchtime!" Harold and Russ were there, and it was pleasant conversation.
A pleasant way to spend a day. Not only would a parachute on your wing upset your trim, it would also upset the guy flapping in the wind behind you. :shock:
Bob
Bob
Bi-Annual Review
Every couple of years, FAA requires pilots to have an evaluation. Requirements are kind of loose and general, but still there. An instructor pilot has to give an hour of ground training, and an hour of flight training. On Friday, Steve and I did that.
Weather was misty and a storm cell was moving from Kalamazoo towards us. So, I did the preflight inspection to get that out of our way, added air to the nose strut (it was FLAT when I walked into the hangar), and got a formal weather briefing. Time now for the ground training. Now, I have a card table and some folding chairs in the hangar, but no coffee pot or food. The BestSellers Coffee Shop and Bookstore (my all time favorite place to hang out now) is in Mason, a mile down the road. And, neither of us had eaten breakfast. (Striking our heads here, scratching and trying to figure this out) "Why don't we go get coffee and breakfast?" says Steve. "DAMN! I wish I had thought of that!" I heard someone say.
Over coffee and raspberry scones, Steve fired "what if" questions about situations, and "what does FAA say about" questions. And some general aeronautical-type knowledge give-aways. (He teaches me about flying; I teach him about Life. He's only 27.) A bit after our hour of instruction was completed - and talking with coffee shop friends was engaged in - the clouds lifted so that we could fly. The Duck was low on fuel, so we taxied down to the fuel pits. Dan Schiffer was there, waiting for his wife to finish her flight lesson and return. So we talked with him and his pet shelty, Piper.
Some background: A few weeks ago, the lens on the white tail light of the Duck had fallen out. The white light was no longer necessary, as I have a bright, flashing strobe mounted on the tip of the vertical stabilizer. The strobe fulfills - and then some - the requirement for a tail light. The little aluminum bezel that holds the lens in place had worn too large and let the lens fall out. Steve also wrenches at an aircraft repair facility in nearby Howell (KOZW). He called Randy, his supervisor, and Randy had the parts. So, our 1 hour flight training had a target now; we wouldn't just wander around within a practice area.
When I fly in the vicinity of clouds, I have to maintain clearance from them - 500' below, 1,000' above, and 2,000' side to side. We had a ceiling of 3,500' (above ground level) so we were flying at about 2,500' above MSL (Mean Sea Level) to clear ground obstacles such as towers, etc. and clear below the raggedy clouds. Visibility was about 5 miles, and Howell's field appeared just about where we expected it.
Now, Howell is the cross-wind capitol of the world. When they built the field, they lined up the runway parallel with the highway that goes through town. The highway was built following an ancient Indian foot trail. None of that reasoning included anything at all about prevailing winds. When I started learning to fly, my lessons were out of this field. One day, the wind was actually lined up right down the runway. We were in the traffic pattern, preparing to land, and I turned to the instructor (different one, hadn't worked my way up to Steve yet), and said, "I don't know how to land when the wind is a straight head wind." I was just joking, of course, but it was strange to land with both main gears touching down at the same time instead of first the upwind gear, then the downwind gear, and finally the nose gear.
Steve and I landed and taxied over to the shop where he works. I met Randy, the dog (almost all airfields have a dog), talked flying a bit, and got my parts. On the way back, we did slow speed stalls. The Duck does not like to stall - she is a very well behaved bird and the stall horn can squall it's head off, and she still does not want to finish stalling. Next, we did some steep turns where I yank it into a 45 degree bank to do a full circle to the right and again to the left. Mine were a bit sloppy, so we did it again.
Traffic avoidance (not running into another pane in a mid-air crash) is important. We had done clearing turns to ensure no one else was using this airspace, before these maneuvers.
OK, now we're heading back to Mason (KTEW). Darned clouds had lowered a bit and developed patchy puffs down lower - we flew into one. The book says, and I believe it - that a VFR pilot (like me' flies with Visual Flight Rules and has to have eye contact with the ground at all times) has about 1 minute and 47 second life expectancy in clouds. I instantly went to the attitude indicator to maintain a wings level attitude, and level flight (not climbing or diving). In about 5 seconds we broke out of the cloud and things were OK again. Young John Kennedy did the classic death spiral when he flew out over the bay on a moonless night, and lost visual reverence with any horizon or lights.
We did a simulated engine out landing back at Mason, and I plopped it onto the runway. Bounced into the air. The main gears on the Duck are spring steel - and the springy part works pretty darned good! We put the Duck away and tucked her in, Back to the BestSellers for lunch and a debrief. (Here, a "debrief" is where Steve tells me all the bad stuff I did.) But, Iced tea and a ham sandwich made it all OK again.
I passed the evaluation review. I'd cheated death again.
Every couple of years, FAA requires pilots to have an evaluation. Requirements are kind of loose and general, but still there. An instructor pilot has to give an hour of ground training, and an hour of flight training. On Friday, Steve and I did that.
Weather was misty and a storm cell was moving from Kalamazoo towards us. So, I did the preflight inspection to get that out of our way, added air to the nose strut (it was FLAT when I walked into the hangar), and got a formal weather briefing. Time now for the ground training. Now, I have a card table and some folding chairs in the hangar, but no coffee pot or food. The BestSellers Coffee Shop and Bookstore (my all time favorite place to hang out now) is in Mason, a mile down the road. And, neither of us had eaten breakfast. (Striking our heads here, scratching and trying to figure this out) "Why don't we go get coffee and breakfast?" says Steve. "DAMN! I wish I had thought of that!" I heard someone say.
Over coffee and raspberry scones, Steve fired "what if" questions about situations, and "what does FAA say about" questions. And some general aeronautical-type knowledge give-aways. (He teaches me about flying; I teach him about Life. He's only 27.) A bit after our hour of instruction was completed - and talking with coffee shop friends was engaged in - the clouds lifted so that we could fly. The Duck was low on fuel, so we taxied down to the fuel pits. Dan Schiffer was there, waiting for his wife to finish her flight lesson and return. So we talked with him and his pet shelty, Piper.
Some background: A few weeks ago, the lens on the white tail light of the Duck had fallen out. The white light was no longer necessary, as I have a bright, flashing strobe mounted on the tip of the vertical stabilizer. The strobe fulfills - and then some - the requirement for a tail light. The little aluminum bezel that holds the lens in place had worn too large and let the lens fall out. Steve also wrenches at an aircraft repair facility in nearby Howell (KOZW). He called Randy, his supervisor, and Randy had the parts. So, our 1 hour flight training had a target now; we wouldn't just wander around within a practice area.
When I fly in the vicinity of clouds, I have to maintain clearance from them - 500' below, 1,000' above, and 2,000' side to side. We had a ceiling of 3,500' (above ground level) so we were flying at about 2,500' above MSL (Mean Sea Level) to clear ground obstacles such as towers, etc. and clear below the raggedy clouds. Visibility was about 5 miles, and Howell's field appeared just about where we expected it.
Now, Howell is the cross-wind capitol of the world. When they built the field, they lined up the runway parallel with the highway that goes through town. The highway was built following an ancient Indian foot trail. None of that reasoning included anything at all about prevailing winds. When I started learning to fly, my lessons were out of this field. One day, the wind was actually lined up right down the runway. We were in the traffic pattern, preparing to land, and I turned to the instructor (different one, hadn't worked my way up to Steve yet), and said, "I don't know how to land when the wind is a straight head wind." I was just joking, of course, but it was strange to land with both main gears touching down at the same time instead of first the upwind gear, then the downwind gear, and finally the nose gear.
Steve and I landed and taxied over to the shop where he works. I met Randy, the dog (almost all airfields have a dog), talked flying a bit, and got my parts. On the way back, we did slow speed stalls. The Duck does not like to stall - she is a very well behaved bird and the stall horn can squall it's head off, and she still does not want to finish stalling. Next, we did some steep turns where I yank it into a 45 degree bank to do a full circle to the right and again to the left. Mine were a bit sloppy, so we did it again.
Traffic avoidance (not running into another pane in a mid-air crash) is important. We had done clearing turns to ensure no one else was using this airspace, before these maneuvers.
OK, now we're heading back to Mason (KTEW). Darned clouds had lowered a bit and developed patchy puffs down lower - we flew into one. The book says, and I believe it - that a VFR pilot (like me' flies with Visual Flight Rules and has to have eye contact with the ground at all times) has about 1 minute and 47 second life expectancy in clouds. I instantly went to the attitude indicator to maintain a wings level attitude, and level flight (not climbing or diving). In about 5 seconds we broke out of the cloud and things were OK again. Young John Kennedy did the classic death spiral when he flew out over the bay on a moonless night, and lost visual reverence with any horizon or lights.
We did a simulated engine out landing back at Mason, and I plopped it onto the runway. Bounced into the air. The main gears on the Duck are spring steel - and the springy part works pretty darned good! We put the Duck away and tucked her in, Back to the BestSellers for lunch and a debrief. (Here, a "debrief" is where Steve tells me all the bad stuff I did.) But, Iced tea and a ham sandwich made it all OK again.
I passed the evaluation review. I'd cheated death again.
I really enjoy these flying "tales" Jack. You keep writing them, I'll keep reading them!
Mike S.
Spring Hill, FL
Mike S.
Spring Hill, FL
I'll do my best, Mike. Over two hundred years ago, Cap'n Meriwether taught me to be honest - and I have been ever since. So far, all these tales have been true.
It's better to get a check ride with a friend rather than with a cranky old Crum Mudgen. Glad your still up to Snuff.
Bob
Bob
Fall Colors
Fall is in the air here; colors are marching southwards down the peninsula towards home. Right next to the airfield, they were combining soy beans today. Their color is a dusty (REALLY dusty) brown. Further out, reds, yellows, and oranges trumpet their blazes.
I got to the field later this morning, only to find the nose strut flat. I hooked up the cable from the winch to the tail ring under the empennage, and hauled down the tail of the Duck. That raises the nose, and lets the nose gear extend fully. Hook up the electric tire pump and run up the pressure (air over oil) to 65 psi.
As I was doing that, Ernie Lutz stopped by to say hi. Ernie hangars a ways down the row, and I'd sent him some pictures of WWII, and he stopped by to say thanks. He flew 60 missions in WWII, some of them on D-Day over the beaches. He was just recently knighted by the French government for that. Ernie's a nice guy, and we don't really have to address him as Sir Ernie.
Keeps an operating Model T in is hangar too.
Got all ready about an hour later than I'd planned, but glad for the interruptions. Did a couple of short field takeoffs (start out with 10 degree flaps, and pop in 20 degrees when air speed reaches about 65 mph. The bird jumps off the runway and climbs steeply. About 75' up I level off, and start to slowly clean up the bird by raising the flaps a little bit at a time. We are level and gaining speed, then can start to climb again. It's good practice for when I have to take off of a short runway with obstacles at the end.
Pleasant Lake is about 10 miles S'ly of the field. It's a nice run down to there and back, about 1/4 mile up above the ground. Details are easy to see in fields, lawns, trees, and ponds. Often, just one side of a tree will have colored up, where frost bit that side one night. Later, everything will have been frozen, and it will all color up. But, right now, only parts of trees are red or orange.
No one has picked corn yet, but it will be soon. There's a corn maze a couple miles S'ly of the field. From overhead, it's easy to see how to get yourself out. But, from inside the maze and at ground level - all you can see is the cornstalks right beside you.
When I returned, there was a perfect, 90 degree crosswind. My last landing wasn't all that graceful, but I still cheated death again!
Fall is in the air here; colors are marching southwards down the peninsula towards home. Right next to the airfield, they were combining soy beans today. Their color is a dusty (REALLY dusty) brown. Further out, reds, yellows, and oranges trumpet their blazes.
I got to the field later this morning, only to find the nose strut flat. I hooked up the cable from the winch to the tail ring under the empennage, and hauled down the tail of the Duck. That raises the nose, and lets the nose gear extend fully. Hook up the electric tire pump and run up the pressure (air over oil) to 65 psi.
As I was doing that, Ernie Lutz stopped by to say hi. Ernie hangars a ways down the row, and I'd sent him some pictures of WWII, and he stopped by to say thanks. He flew 60 missions in WWII, some of them on D-Day over the beaches. He was just recently knighted by the French government for that. Ernie's a nice guy, and we don't really have to address him as Sir Ernie.
Keeps an operating Model T in is hangar too.Got all ready about an hour later than I'd planned, but glad for the interruptions. Did a couple of short field takeoffs (start out with 10 degree flaps, and pop in 20 degrees when air speed reaches about 65 mph. The bird jumps off the runway and climbs steeply. About 75' up I level off, and start to slowly clean up the bird by raising the flaps a little bit at a time. We are level and gaining speed, then can start to climb again. It's good practice for when I have to take off of a short runway with obstacles at the end.
Pleasant Lake is about 10 miles S'ly of the field. It's a nice run down to there and back, about 1/4 mile up above the ground. Details are easy to see in fields, lawns, trees, and ponds. Often, just one side of a tree will have colored up, where frost bit that side one night. Later, everything will have been frozen, and it will all color up. But, right now, only parts of trees are red or orange.
No one has picked corn yet, but it will be soon. There's a corn maze a couple miles S'ly of the field. From overhead, it's easy to see how to get yourself out. But, from inside the maze and at ground level - all you can see is the cornstalks right beside you.
When I returned, there was a perfect, 90 degree crosswind. My last landing wasn't all that graceful, but I still cheated death again!
PICKING UP A BUDDY
I belong to an Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) Chapter here at Mason Jewett Field KTEW. We do several activities to help our community. One program is Young Eagles, where we give free rides to kids. Their first ride, OK'd by parents, is free. Often, this hooks a kid on flying. We also have an Eagles program for adults who have an interest in learning to fly.
Another one is to run short classes for local teachers, to show them planes, and teach them about aviation so they can, in turn, pass along information to their students. There was one of these classes this weekend at Lansing Municipal Airport KLAN. My buddy, Dan, flew his North American Texan T-6 trainer from Mason to Lansing last Friday, and it was a static display for that class. My part was to pick him up so we could return to Mason for lunch. (I'm not totally philanthropic - or stupid.)
Today, he flew the T-6 from Lansing to Howell KOZW for its annual inspection, and then it's sold. This was kind of an emotional day for him, as he is attached to that T-6. It damned near killed him about 2 1/2 years ago when the engine quit on takeoff. Dan's an excellent pilot, determined, and quite lucky. The first two guys to his aircraft that day just happened to be doctors and pilots. They knew exactly what to do - and as importantly - what to NOT do. A few months later, he was back in the cockpit.
Today, I landed at Howell, taxied up to the the old passenger terminal, and picked him up. He was a bit emotional about it all, "This may be the last time I ever fly that bird. If they pick it up from here, and not Mason, I'll never fly it again."
"Do you want to go back and pat'er on the ass?" I asked.
"I already did." he responded in a quiet voice. And we took off.
Now, as luck would have it, another pilot (and paddling buddy of Dan and me) had called me as I was about to take off from Mason. I knew he wanted to go to lunch, so when Dan and I got the Ruptured Duck back into the hangar, I called Greg. Sure enough, lunch at 12:00. Dan and I then had about an hour and a quarter on our hands, and a coffee shop nearby. Being pilots (all pilots are handsome, intelligent, steely eyed, and humble) we figured it out.
"Two cups of coffee, please? And a muffin to boot?" Another older friend of mine was already there, Harold Pitman. Harold spends his mornings there, greeting and talking with 98% of everyone who comes in. He either went to school with them, worked with them, is related to them - or all three. He has a lot of stories about the Navy in the 50's. Rollie Dart, another older friend who comes in, was a Marine on Iwo Jima. It's a pretty good assortment of folks.
About a half hour before time to meet Greg, Dan and I departed the Best Sellers Coffee Shop & Bookstore. Since Greg is habitually late, I felt we were good. Ooops! We just got the car parked and I got a text message that Greg was in place already. He'd beaten us!
We got talking about canoes, flying, women, and more women. I think they may have bragged a bit, just trying to match some of my true stories. We laughed enough to be considered certifiably crazy - but no one dared approach us, I think. Hard to think how, just giving a buddy a ride, could be so much fun! But, I already knew the answer - it's the friends. High quality friends.
I'd cheated death twice this morning with two landings, and it was a good day.
I belong to an Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) Chapter here at Mason Jewett Field KTEW. We do several activities to help our community. One program is Young Eagles, where we give free rides to kids. Their first ride, OK'd by parents, is free. Often, this hooks a kid on flying. We also have an Eagles program for adults who have an interest in learning to fly.
Another one is to run short classes for local teachers, to show them planes, and teach them about aviation so they can, in turn, pass along information to their students. There was one of these classes this weekend at Lansing Municipal Airport KLAN. My buddy, Dan, flew his North American Texan T-6 trainer from Mason to Lansing last Friday, and it was a static display for that class. My part was to pick him up so we could return to Mason for lunch. (I'm not totally philanthropic - or stupid.)
Today, he flew the T-6 from Lansing to Howell KOZW for its annual inspection, and then it's sold. This was kind of an emotional day for him, as he is attached to that T-6. It damned near killed him about 2 1/2 years ago when the engine quit on takeoff. Dan's an excellent pilot, determined, and quite lucky. The first two guys to his aircraft that day just happened to be doctors and pilots. They knew exactly what to do - and as importantly - what to NOT do. A few months later, he was back in the cockpit.
Today, I landed at Howell, taxied up to the the old passenger terminal, and picked him up. He was a bit emotional about it all, "This may be the last time I ever fly that bird. If they pick it up from here, and not Mason, I'll never fly it again."
"Do you want to go back and pat'er on the ass?" I asked.
"I already did." he responded in a quiet voice. And we took off.
Now, as luck would have it, another pilot (and paddling buddy of Dan and me) had called me as I was about to take off from Mason. I knew he wanted to go to lunch, so when Dan and I got the Ruptured Duck back into the hangar, I called Greg. Sure enough, lunch at 12:00. Dan and I then had about an hour and a quarter on our hands, and a coffee shop nearby. Being pilots (all pilots are handsome, intelligent, steely eyed, and humble) we figured it out.
"Two cups of coffee, please? And a muffin to boot?" Another older friend of mine was already there, Harold Pitman. Harold spends his mornings there, greeting and talking with 98% of everyone who comes in. He either went to school with them, worked with them, is related to them - or all three. He has a lot of stories about the Navy in the 50's. Rollie Dart, another older friend who comes in, was a Marine on Iwo Jima. It's a pretty good assortment of folks.
About a half hour before time to meet Greg, Dan and I departed the Best Sellers Coffee Shop & Bookstore. Since Greg is habitually late, I felt we were good. Ooops! We just got the car parked and I got a text message that Greg was in place already. He'd beaten us!
We got talking about canoes, flying, women, and more women. I think they may have bragged a bit, just trying to match some of my true stories. We laughed enough to be considered certifiably crazy - but no one dared approach us, I think. Hard to think how, just giving a buddy a ride, could be so much fun! But, I already knew the answer - it's the friends. High quality friends.
I'd cheated death twice this morning with two landings, and it was a good day.
Jack,
Too bad he had to sell his T-6. They use T-6's as Jap Zeros in the Wings over Houston Airshow each year. They give them a Zero's paint job and they drop bombs blowing up Pearl Harbor. They use T-6's because there is a severe shortage of airworthy Zero's. :mrgreen:
Bob
Too bad he had to sell his T-6. They use T-6's as Jap Zeros in the Wings over Houston Airshow each year. They give them a Zero's paint job and they drop bombs blowing up Pearl Harbor. They use T-6's because there is a severe shortage of airworthy Zero's. :mrgreen:
Bob
The T-6 looks similar to a Zero in profile. I used to work with a fellow in Japan who had trained as a Zero pilot. Just as he was ready for his first deployment, the war ended. I asked him, "I'll bet you were glad, weren't you?"
His reply was that, "No. I wanted to fight."
I didn't go on to say that he would probably have had only one flight. At the end, they were desperate, and sending up boys who had only just soloed. New kids didn't stand much of a chance against experienced fighter pilots.
There's a group of pilots flying T-6's in air shows. I ate dinner with one of them from Alexandria Louisiana last year. They do a great job.
His reply was that, "No. I wanted to fight."
I didn't go on to say that he would probably have had only one flight. At the end, they were desperate, and sending up boys who had only just soloed. New kids didn't stand much of a chance against experienced fighter pilots.
There's a group of pilots flying T-6's in air shows. I ate dinner with one of them from Alexandria Louisiana last year. They do a great job.
Long Ways For A Cuppa Coffee
This morning, Doug Koons met me at the hangar, and we cranked up the Ruptured Duck. She hadn't flown for a couple weeks, since I flew to Howell to pick up Dan when he dropped of his T-6 for its last annual inspection prior to sale. (Selling it brought a tear to his eye, like losing an old hunting dog.) Today, Doug and I were inspecting lakes and trees.
First leg of our trip was SE'ly towards the town (and airfield) of Tecumseh. The Indian Chief Tecumseh was a great tactical general, and, if he'd had guns, would have won even more battles. The old airfield there is where I went to a few drag races when in high school. If a plane flew over the runway, everyone would clear off to let it land. Then - back to business. Today, it was a turning point for us, and we headed W'ly along a string of lakes I've written about a couple of times already.
Winds at 3,000', where we were flying, were about 25 knots out of the north. We were crabbing about 15 degrees into the wind to maintain a W'ly ground track. Then, we advised Toledo Air Control that we were turning SW'ly to land at Hillsdale. It felt like two or three other guys were trying to control the Duck as I was landing here. Cross winds and updrafts had us all over the place.
Jim has very good coffee there, and he's fun to talk with. Oddly - he does not have an airport dog! The field needs one. But, Jim invited us to the chili fly in on Saturday. These are fun, but I don't think I'll make this one. While we were inside, another bird aborted his first attempt to land, and went around for a second try. So, I didn't feel as bad then. After about an hour, we took off and flew W'ly another 20 minutes to Coldwater.
Their runways there are laid out weird. The runway best aligned with the wind was next to a tree line, and in a deep cloud-shadow. We never picked it out until we were lined up on another runway, and then could still easily turn to land on the best one. A new group is running the airport restaurant, and I think they will make a go of it. A gaggle of "older ladies" (read "so old that even I wouldn't wink at them") were eating lunch over in a corner. The new managers are getting in lots of folks that aren't itinerant pilots, so they are doubling and tripling their business that way.
When we taxied out to take off, the winds were really confusing. First, we went to the easterly end to take off to the west. But, the wind sock indicated that would be a downwind takeoff. So, we taxied the other way. THAT wind sock indicated it would be down wind if we took off to the east! Wait a minute - there must be a LOT of wind stacking up in the middle somewhere here! Back on the radio for WX info, and it confirmed what we had done first; so we taxied back to the east end and took off to the west.
In the morning we had smooth air; not now. Clouds were low, so we flew only about 1,000' above the ground. There are towers along the way, so I swung off to one side to go around them as I couldn't climb through the clouds to get safe clearance above them. Lansing tower asked a couple of times if I was flying directly to Mason. "Well, sort of. We're going around towers out here right now." It felt really good to get on the ground back at Mason. That landing was a greaser, only good one out of three today.
"Cheated Death again, Doug. We're home."
This morning, Doug Koons met me at the hangar, and we cranked up the Ruptured Duck. She hadn't flown for a couple weeks, since I flew to Howell to pick up Dan when he dropped of his T-6 for its last annual inspection prior to sale. (Selling it brought a tear to his eye, like losing an old hunting dog.) Today, Doug and I were inspecting lakes and trees.
First leg of our trip was SE'ly towards the town (and airfield) of Tecumseh. The Indian Chief Tecumseh was a great tactical general, and, if he'd had guns, would have won even more battles. The old airfield there is where I went to a few drag races when in high school. If a plane flew over the runway, everyone would clear off to let it land. Then - back to business. Today, it was a turning point for us, and we headed W'ly along a string of lakes I've written about a couple of times already.
Winds at 3,000', where we were flying, were about 25 knots out of the north. We were crabbing about 15 degrees into the wind to maintain a W'ly ground track. Then, we advised Toledo Air Control that we were turning SW'ly to land at Hillsdale. It felt like two or three other guys were trying to control the Duck as I was landing here. Cross winds and updrafts had us all over the place.
Jim has very good coffee there, and he's fun to talk with. Oddly - he does not have an airport dog! The field needs one. But, Jim invited us to the chili fly in on Saturday. These are fun, but I don't think I'll make this one. While we were inside, another bird aborted his first attempt to land, and went around for a second try. So, I didn't feel as bad then. After about an hour, we took off and flew W'ly another 20 minutes to Coldwater.
Their runways there are laid out weird. The runway best aligned with the wind was next to a tree line, and in a deep cloud-shadow. We never picked it out until we were lined up on another runway, and then could still easily turn to land on the best one. A new group is running the airport restaurant, and I think they will make a go of it. A gaggle of "older ladies" (read "so old that even I wouldn't wink at them") were eating lunch over in a corner. The new managers are getting in lots of folks that aren't itinerant pilots, so they are doubling and tripling their business that way.
When we taxied out to take off, the winds were really confusing. First, we went to the easterly end to take off to the west. But, the wind sock indicated that would be a downwind takeoff. So, we taxied the other way. THAT wind sock indicated it would be down wind if we took off to the east! Wait a minute - there must be a LOT of wind stacking up in the middle somewhere here! Back on the radio for WX info, and it confirmed what we had done first; so we taxied back to the east end and took off to the west.
In the morning we had smooth air; not now. Clouds were low, so we flew only about 1,000' above the ground. There are towers along the way, so I swung off to one side to go around them as I couldn't climb through the clouds to get safe clearance above them. Lansing tower asked a couple of times if I was flying directly to Mason. "Well, sort of. We're going around towers out here right now." It felt really good to get on the ground back at Mason. That landing was a greaser, only good one out of three today.
"Cheated Death again, Doug. We're home."
I'll Have Another Cuppa Coffee, Please
A couple of days ago, I took milady Dawn for a ride on a sunny morning. We'd gotten up at 06:00, had a fast breakfast, and went to the Ruptured Duck. Though the sky was overcast on the way to the field, it was clearing by the time I was ready to crank the engine.
I've mentioned before about flying to Hell and back, and that's the route we took this time. Fall colors are all gone now, and only muddy browns, muted greens, and rough grays remain. But the sun shining on all those fields still looks pretty. Lakes and ponds shimmer all over the Pinkney Recreational Area where Hell - and our target lakes - reside.
"Detroit control, One One Yankee squawking 5617." "Roger, One One Yankee; what are your intentions?"
"Detroit, One One Yankee. We're doing a photo shoot in the Pinkney Recreational Area. We'll be running northeasterly from present position for about 10 miles, then turning north to Livingston County, Oscar Zulu Whiskey, for a full stop. Request flight following, please?"
"Roger, One One Yankee. Proceed VFR and report northerly turn."
"One One Yankee Rog."
Though we weren't shooting photos, that describes the type of flying we were doing. And, it's a lot quicker than saying, "We're overflying a canoe route twisting through a gaggle of lakes we like to paddle, to a place that has cold beer and good hamburgs."
When we got to Livingston County field in Howell, the wind was straight down the runway. I flew out of here for a year, and saw that condition only ONCE before! A brand new passenger terminal here is really nice. It's about 5 times bigger than the old one, and has separate rooms for meetings, lounging, flight planning, etc. The airport manager, Mark, met us on the parking ramp with a set of chocks in hand. Very nice touch!
An older lady, Dorothy, was in the pilots' lounge, wrestling with her iPad, and whistling. As we talked with her, she told us about having sold her older plane that had to stop on the way to Florida, for a bigger one that would make it non-stop. Her husband, not a pilot, didn't like to have to stop on the way. Dorothy is 70-75, and quite a lady. We finished our coffee, thanked Mark, and said goodbye to Dorothy.
Take off straight into the wind was clean and crisp. Overflying Dansville took all of three minutes - it's not a very big burg. Lining up for the landing pattern back at Mason was a few, gentle turns. A squeaker landing felt good. "Cheated Death again!"
Friends were already at the coffee shop in town. Conversations, another cuppa coffee, and lunch took a few hours. Home for a nap to recover from all that hard work.
A couple of days ago, I took milady Dawn for a ride on a sunny morning. We'd gotten up at 06:00, had a fast breakfast, and went to the Ruptured Duck. Though the sky was overcast on the way to the field, it was clearing by the time I was ready to crank the engine.
I've mentioned before about flying to Hell and back, and that's the route we took this time. Fall colors are all gone now, and only muddy browns, muted greens, and rough grays remain. But the sun shining on all those fields still looks pretty. Lakes and ponds shimmer all over the Pinkney Recreational Area where Hell - and our target lakes - reside.
"Detroit control, One One Yankee squawking 5617." "Roger, One One Yankee; what are your intentions?"
"Detroit, One One Yankee. We're doing a photo shoot in the Pinkney Recreational Area. We'll be running northeasterly from present position for about 10 miles, then turning north to Livingston County, Oscar Zulu Whiskey, for a full stop. Request flight following, please?"
"Roger, One One Yankee. Proceed VFR and report northerly turn."
"One One Yankee Rog."
Though we weren't shooting photos, that describes the type of flying we were doing. And, it's a lot quicker than saying, "We're overflying a canoe route twisting through a gaggle of lakes we like to paddle, to a place that has cold beer and good hamburgs."
When we got to Livingston County field in Howell, the wind was straight down the runway. I flew out of here for a year, and saw that condition only ONCE before! A brand new passenger terminal here is really nice. It's about 5 times bigger than the old one, and has separate rooms for meetings, lounging, flight planning, etc. The airport manager, Mark, met us on the parking ramp with a set of chocks in hand. Very nice touch!
An older lady, Dorothy, was in the pilots' lounge, wrestling with her iPad, and whistling. As we talked with her, she told us about having sold her older plane that had to stop on the way to Florida, for a bigger one that would make it non-stop. Her husband, not a pilot, didn't like to have to stop on the way. Dorothy is 70-75, and quite a lady. We finished our coffee, thanked Mark, and said goodbye to Dorothy.
Take off straight into the wind was clean and crisp. Overflying Dansville took all of three minutes - it's not a very big burg. Lining up for the landing pattern back at Mason was a few, gentle turns. A squeaker landing felt good. "Cheated Death again!"
Friends were already at the coffee shop in town. Conversations, another cuppa coffee, and lunch took a few hours. Home for a nap to recover from all that hard work.
Santa Claus Good Cheer Flights
Today, I flew a different kind of flight than I've ever flown. We flew Christmas presents around the state.
First thing was, the Duck had a flat nose strut. At 20 degrees, my first compressor only grunted. I drove the car into the hangar to plug the backup portable compressor into my cigarette lighter. But, the Schraeder valve on top of the nose strut is buried wayyyy down inside the engine bay. My fingers were so numb that I couldn't line up the valve and screw it on. We finally taxied to Dan's hangar, where he had a better compressor with a standard air chuck. We got that to work, and were only about 15 minutes late taking off.
We flew to Pontiac (N'ly of Detroit) into a Chinese fire drill. MANY planes were there already, and more were landing at about one a minute. The traffic controllers had extra guys in to handle the traffic, but we still waited in line over a half hour for take off. But, I get a head of myself here.
Someone here in Michigan organizes a "Good Cheer" mission every year. Pilots volunteer to fly loads of presents from Oakland Field in Pontiac out to outlying towns all over the state. Dan had volunteered us, and away we went. (Dan's a nicer, gentler, more benevolent soul than I. He's also a much more accomplished pilot than I am. But, that's another story.) I'm the better looking one of the pair ;=)
We were flying from Pontiac, NW'ly to Big Rapids. (Look at the Michigan map on the back of your left hand. Mason is centered, about an inch above your wrist. Pontiac is on the bottom of the base knuckle of your index finger. Big Rapids is on the middle knuckle of your ring finger. Then, back to Mason after it's all over.) Actually, in between Pontiac and Big Rapids, I had to stop at Owosso. One of the requirements there, was to refuel the Duck. I also defueled me.
Big Rapids Roben Hood Field has two runways that are totally separated. We landed on runway 32, then wound up a hill about an eighth of a mile to the end of the next runway, and then taxied its length to get to the ramp. Kids of all ages came out to help offload packages. This field is named after three, WWI veterans who did not return. Two brothers with the last name of Hood, and another fellow with the last name of Roben (long "o", not a short "o" as in robin red breast).
Now, I have no idea who organized this soiree, or where the thousands of wrapped presents come from, or how the towns select the kids to get them. All I know is that there were several hundred aircraft coming and going, and I was glad to clear Pontiac's air space. All the volunteers all over the state were smiling, had kids and adults in tow, and had hot coffee and pizza for us. In the long run, we got some presents to some kids, got to fly in a free America, and cheated death four times with our landings.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
One One Yankee, the Ruptured Duck, signing off.
Today, I flew a different kind of flight than I've ever flown. We flew Christmas presents around the state.
First thing was, the Duck had a flat nose strut. At 20 degrees, my first compressor only grunted. I drove the car into the hangar to plug the backup portable compressor into my cigarette lighter. But, the Schraeder valve on top of the nose strut is buried wayyyy down inside the engine bay. My fingers were so numb that I couldn't line up the valve and screw it on. We finally taxied to Dan's hangar, where he had a better compressor with a standard air chuck. We got that to work, and were only about 15 minutes late taking off.
We flew to Pontiac (N'ly of Detroit) into a Chinese fire drill. MANY planes were there already, and more were landing at about one a minute. The traffic controllers had extra guys in to handle the traffic, but we still waited in line over a half hour for take off. But, I get a head of myself here.
Someone here in Michigan organizes a "Good Cheer" mission every year. Pilots volunteer to fly loads of presents from Oakland Field in Pontiac out to outlying towns all over the state. Dan had volunteered us, and away we went. (Dan's a nicer, gentler, more benevolent soul than I. He's also a much more accomplished pilot than I am. But, that's another story.) I'm the better looking one of the pair ;=)
We were flying from Pontiac, NW'ly to Big Rapids. (Look at the Michigan map on the back of your left hand. Mason is centered, about an inch above your wrist. Pontiac is on the bottom of the base knuckle of your index finger. Big Rapids is on the middle knuckle of your ring finger. Then, back to Mason after it's all over.) Actually, in between Pontiac and Big Rapids, I had to stop at Owosso. One of the requirements there, was to refuel the Duck. I also defueled me.
Big Rapids Roben Hood Field has two runways that are totally separated. We landed on runway 32, then wound up a hill about an eighth of a mile to the end of the next runway, and then taxied its length to get to the ramp. Kids of all ages came out to help offload packages. This field is named after three, WWI veterans who did not return. Two brothers with the last name of Hood, and another fellow with the last name of Roben (long "o", not a short "o" as in robin red breast).
Now, I have no idea who organized this soiree, or where the thousands of wrapped presents come from, or how the towns select the kids to get them. All I know is that there were several hundred aircraft coming and going, and I was glad to clear Pontiac's air space. All the volunteers all over the state were smiling, had kids and adults in tow, and had hot coffee and pizza for us. In the long run, we got some presents to some kids, got to fly in a free America, and cheated death four times with our landings.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
One One Yankee, the Ruptured Duck, signing off.
The Duck is sleeping over some of the icy parts of our winter here. She's in for the annual inspection. Part of that is repairing a few skin blemishes - corrosion spots, and repairing the nose strut.
Every year - completely defying any logical explanation - the nose strut acts up. From January, through June, it remains properly inflated, and so is extended to it's correct length. The Duck sits on her gear, slanted slightly nose up (about a 5 degree upslope) very obediently. Every June, a little fellow - who seems to live inside the strut - wakes up. He dutifully flips some little switch or valve, and the strut starts to lose air pressure, starts to sink, and goes flat. I air it up, and a month later have to again. Pretty quickly, it needs air every week or so, then every 4-5 days, and finally every 2-3 days.
It's kind of a PITA to do this little operation. I run the cable from the winch, through a pulley that is fastened to the hangar floor immediately beneath the tie down ring in the tail, and attach the cable to the tie down ring. When I reel in cable, it lowers the tail and raises the nose. (Easier than jacking up the nose.) This relieves pressure from the nose strut, and lets it fully extend. Fully extended, air pressure inside the strut goes to its lowest, and it can be pressurized easier. Add air up to 70 psi, and lower the nose again.
Right now, that nose strut is in pieces. Some of those pieces are in a metal plating shop, getting re-chromed. Hopefully, that dastardly little fellow who lives in the nose strut, won't cause me problems this year.
Every year - completely defying any logical explanation - the nose strut acts up. From January, through June, it remains properly inflated, and so is extended to it's correct length. The Duck sits on her gear, slanted slightly nose up (about a 5 degree upslope) very obediently. Every June, a little fellow - who seems to live inside the strut - wakes up. He dutifully flips some little switch or valve, and the strut starts to lose air pressure, starts to sink, and goes flat. I air it up, and a month later have to again. Pretty quickly, it needs air every week or so, then every 4-5 days, and finally every 2-3 days.
It's kind of a PITA to do this little operation. I run the cable from the winch, through a pulley that is fastened to the hangar floor immediately beneath the tie down ring in the tail, and attach the cable to the tie down ring. When I reel in cable, it lowers the tail and raises the nose. (Easier than jacking up the nose.) This relieves pressure from the nose strut, and lets it fully extend. Fully extended, air pressure inside the strut goes to its lowest, and it can be pressurized easier. Add air up to 70 psi, and lower the nose again.
Right now, that nose strut is in pieces. Some of those pieces are in a metal plating shop, getting re-chromed. Hopefully, that dastardly little fellow who lives in the nose strut, won't cause me problems this year.