Leg 16 - Evanston Wy (EVW) to Pine Mountain Lake CA Home (E45)

My flight plan for the day was to depart Evanston and hopefully make it to Fallon Nevada (FLX). It was an ambitious flight for me, almost five hours, plus a fuel and food stop. . 

Original flight plan for the day - Evanston Wy to Fallon, Nevada

In almost all previous cases my flight plans have been cut short by weather, or my aching body. However, today I would fly much farther than I had planned. 

I was determined to get an early start. I woke up at 5:15 and was in the air by 6:30 am. I took a minute to capture this photo on the ramp.

N972GL on the ramp at Evanston, Wyoming

The weather forecast from here to Salt Lake City was for light winds and no turbulence. Even the winds aloft at 9000 feet were forecast under 10 knots, which is very unusual. Yet, I was suspicious. The weather has been screwing with me this whole trip. I knew better than to accept an FAA weather briefing as anything more than "one possible outcome".

Have you ever noticed that the things you worry about most turn out not to be a problem at all? This turned out to be one of those times. 

I launched into a beautiful and calm Wyoming sky. It was only about forty minutes to the mountain pass into Salt Lake City. I would be flying Highway 80 through Park City. 

I climbed up to 9000 feet (yes, that is a legal altitude when you are less than 2500 feet above ground %^) ). As I approached the pass I called up Salt Lake Approach and got flight following. As I entered the higher terrain near Echo, the air was still and smooth as glass. It would stay that way all the way through the pass!

Echo Reservoir

As I approached Park City I got a pic of the ski jump that was used in the 2002 Olympics.

The Olympic ski jump in the center of the pic

The final part of the pass was a right turn at Park City and a short leg into Salt Lake City.

Salt Lake City in the background

The air through the narrowest part of the pass was still dead calm. I could not believe my luck! Apparently the goat and chicken sacrifices had worked! The smooth air let me really enjoy this dramatic part of the flight.

Almost through!

At this point I was hoping that Salt Lake Approach would clear me through the Bravo airspace. Apparently they were busy and I, once again, heard the dreaded words, "Experimental 972GL, remain clear of Bravo airspace."

I did plan for this. I would hug the windward side of the mountains to the south and then drop down to 5500 feet to skirt under the Bravo shelf. This worked out fine.

Skirting the Bravo southward along the windward side of the mountains

If you've never been here, Salt Lake City is a beautiful place - in the air or on the ground. I can see why people love it here.

Salt Lake City

The Great Salt Lake is something to see. It is almost 75 miles long and 28 miles wide. The white salt shoreline is like nothing I've ever seen. It was hazy in this area so I didn't get great pictures.

Great Salt Lake

The salty shoreline

Western shore of the Great Salt Lake

My next planned stop was Wendover Airport (ENV). Wendover is known for a couple of reasons. First it is next to the Bonneville Salt Flats. Secondly, during World War 2 it is where they prepped the Enola Gay for her terrible mission over Hiroshima. The former Air Force base is now a civilian airport. They have preserved the hangars and many of the artifacts from the war. They conduct tours of the facility as well.

The Bonneville Salt Flats, site of most of the world's land speed records 

Wendover Airport

As I entered the pattern I heard an unusual call sign from an approaching aircraft. The call sign began with "Lockheed" which was strange in that most Lockheed aircraft have more specific names (Hercules, Constellation, Eagle, etc.). The pilot was announcing a low pass and asked my position. He was 10 miles out and I was on downwind so I figured there wouldn't be a problem. As I turned base about a minute later, he called out "5 miles". Huh? I realized this was some kind of fast-mover so I cut my base leg short, landed, and made a quick exit from the runway. 

As I did, this beautiful fighter jet screamed low down the runway at high speed. He then returned to the airport and landed. I got a chance to see it up close. It was a T-33 Shooting Star.

The very sexy T-33 Shooting Star in polished aluminum

I was anxious to get back in the air so I re-fueled, grabbed a snack bar in the pilots lounge, and took a pic on the ramp before heading out.

My next planned stop was Fallon, Nevada. Along the way I wound around a series of mountain ranges.

On the way to Fallon

Approximately 5-1/2 hours after leaving Evanston Wyoming I landed at Fallon. This airport is immediately adjacent to Fallon Naval Air Station, the site of the Navy's Fighter's Weapons School made famous by the movie Top Gun. I was hungry, but feeling surprising good considering this had been one of my longest flights of the whole trip.

I was able to borrow the courtesy car and found a Filipino restaurant for lunch. My trip to the Philippines many years ago left me with an appreciation for their food.

My plan had been to spend the night here, but as I chewed on my lumpia I realized my pain level was very low. Also, the entire flight had been low stress. Calm air, no weather to deal with. Just fun flying. It was still early, about half past noon. 

I opened the IFly GPS app on my phone and saw home was only one hour and forty-five minutes away. I made a quick decision to sleep in my own bed this night!

I called Linda and told her I would be home a day early. I hurried back to the airport, took off, and pointed the nose to Lake Tahoe.

As I approached the leeward side of the Sierra Mountains I knew there was the potential for turbulence. Perhaps a lot. In the past this thought would have caused me some level of anxiety. I'm not sure if I was a bit hypoxic at this moment or not. (Hypoxia, or lack of oxygen caused by flying at high altitudes, can make you feel peaceful and overly-calm. It can be a deadly trap that has led many pilots to their demise.) Yet for some reason I looked at the massive mountain range ahead and thought, "Bring it on! I don't care how bad the turbulence is, I'm going home!" This is generally not a good attitude for a pilot to have and I'm not sure where it came from. I think I just wanted to be home with my Linda.

Bring in on, Sierra's!

I did approach the mountains at about a 45 degree angle in case the turbulence or downdrafts were too great. This would allow a quick left turn to fly away from any serious problem. As it turned out I only had a few bumps as I came over Lake Tahoe. 

South Lake Tahoe and the Tahoe Airport in the upper right

 

The mountains on the western shore of Lake Tahoe. About 9000 foot elevation

An hour and forty minutes after departing Fallon my home airport of Pine Mountain Lake (E45) came into view. 

As I approached home a feeling of nostalgia came over me. I thought back to all the things I had seen and done on this trip. All the physical and flying challenges I had faced, and all the people I had met. When I was in the middle of it I was so busy I never had the time to think about what I was accomplishing. There was just the next task in front of me. 

Now that it was almost over it sunk in just how far I had travelled in this plane I had built myself. She had never skipped a beat the entire 5000 miles we had flown. I had seen things I would never forget and met some amazing people. I got to spend time with my nephew Denny and his wonderful family. And I got to hug my son for the first time in a number of years. 

To be a pilot is a privilege, not a right. I feel incredibly fortunate and grateful for all the experiences this privilege has afforded me. N972GL is more than just an airplane, she has been my beautiful adventure machine. Together we have seen the world from a perspective few others are able to experience. At times she has scared me, but she has always brought me home. 

I first wrote this perspective on flying some years ago. Today it seems more relevant to me than ever before:

Every flight in a small plane, no matter where you go or for how long, is an adventure. When your wheels leave the ground you become encompassed in the great aerial ocean. You are not just separated from the ground; you have entered another world. A world that challenges and amazes you like the dreams of childhood.

My beautiful adventure machine N972GL

 

  

  

 

Leg 15 - Rawlins (RWL) to Evanston Wy (EVW) - "Lions and Beavers and Deer, Oh My!"

 I woke up this morning at 5:30 with my back killing me. I also had serious trepidation about today's flight. The mountains near Salt Lake City scare the crap out of me. I had a giant knot in my stomach as I morosely spooned down my cup of oatmeal. 

To really add to my anxiety there was an Airmet for low altitude turbulence and wind shear. This was the absolute last thing I wanted to hear for today's flight.

I would be flying into a narrow mountain pass known for tubulence on a calm day. Now this would be exascerbated by a large, unstable, air mass. 

It took me a few minutes to realize I needed a new plan. It would be stupid to try the entire route today. I decided I would fly from Rawlins to Southwest Regional (RKS) and refuel. I would then proceed either to Fort Bridger or Evanson, depending on the flying conditions.

The flight to Rock City (Southwest Regional) was smooth and beautiful with only an occasional bump. I listened to  my Jack Reacher novel and enjoyed the amazing scenery.

Somewhere west of Rawlins

Hundreds of miles of complete emptiness

The Cherokee VOR in the center of the pic (white dot)

As I approached Rock Springs the bumps began. They were uncomfortable but manageable. I landed on the 5200 foot runway and pulled up to the FBO to refuel. As I climbed out I noticed a Cirrus Vision jet on the ramp, the first one I had ever seen. This amazing plane has a top speed of 345 mph!

The mother of all personal aircraft!

After a quick refuel I fired up the engine and dialed the ASOS on the radio. It was reporting a density altitude of 8400 feet. To date the highest density altitude I had taken off in was 7400 feet. I honestly had no idea if my plane would even get off the ground in these conditions.

As I rolled out on the runway I had a plan. If I wasn't at takeoff speed by 1/3rd of this runway I would abort the takeoff and spend the night in Rock City. As it turned out 972GL was off the ground long before 1/3 of the runway and I was climbing out at 500 fpm! Frankly I was quite surprised by this. I thought I would get off the ground but a 500 FPM climb rate, nearly fully loaded, was beyond my best expectation.

It didn't take long for the turbulence to start bouncing my little plane around. At this point Evanson was only an hour and twenty-two minutes and I knew I could deal with that. Along the way I passed over Green River.

Part of Green River

I bounced along, listening to my book on tape and just hoping the turbulence wouldn't get any worse before I got to Evanson. As it turned out it didn't and I made a decent landing into some pretty gusty winds at EVW.

The FBO had a truck I could use for the night so I loaded up my backpacks and seat cushion and headed out. It was too early to check into the hotel so I headed for Bear River State Park.

The park has various hiking trails some of which meander along the Bear River. I grabbed a bottle of water and followed a wide trail. I found a quiet place and sat down and simply enjoyed a moment of no stress and no pressure.

After a few minutes I got bored and decided a decent hike might be good for my back. A short distance further on a very narrow trail veered off from the main trail and I chose to take it. I was clearly alone and never saw another person. 

The small trail hugged the river bank and it soon became obvious this was beaver country. Aspens of all sizes had been chewed down by these amazing creatures. The telltale pointed spikes of the tree stumps were clear signs of beavers. Then I started noticing all of the beaver lodges and dams. Every 50 yards or so there was either a lodge or a dam.

A chewed off stump in the foreground and you can just see a lodge in the background

The downstream side of a large beaver dam

And right about here I started noticing the bones.

They were sun-bleached and they were everywhere. Hmmm... I didn't think too much of it until I came across what can only be described as a recent kill. It was a deer and there was not much left of it. It was disturbing.

The realization came to me that I was just not in rattle snake country (the entire state of Wyoming) but I was also 1-1/2 miles out on a tiny trail in a mountain lion hunting ground.

I no longer felt comfortable and managed to get a switchback up to the main trail. This may actually have been worse. The main trail ran along the base of various rock faces. I swear to god I could just feel the eyes of a hungry mountain lion sitting up there trying to decide if I had enough meat on my bones to make the effort.

I just knew that somewhere up there a lion was thinkin about lunch...

I kept my head on a swivel for the hike out. Alternately looking down for rattlers and scanning the rock faces for any kind of movement. Apparently the lion decided to wait for fatter prey. I felt quite relieved to get back to the parking lot.

On the way out I noticed the small heard of bison, including some calves. They are impressive creatures!

The heard here is used to replenish the bison in Yellowstone National Park

Tomorrow I am getting up at 5:30 so I can take off at 6:30 and put this drama of the Rocky Mountains behind. By flying early I should avoid the high winds and turbulence that builds up later in the day.

Leg 14 - Boulder (BDU) to Rawlins Wy (RWL) - Into the Rocky Mountains

 There has been one part of this trip that has concerned me the most.  That is crossing the massive Rocky Mountain range. I've never seen it before so all I know is the pictures of massive mountains and narrow valleys, both of which are not friendly to small planes.

My original plan had been to make the crossing, along highway 80 through Wyoming, in one four-hour leg. There were two problems with this plan. 

The first was that over a 4 hour period there was a potential for the weather to change drastically by the time I reached the most narrow part of the passage. 

The second concern was that I would need to stop for fuel in between. This caused a problem because both of the intermediate airports were very high elevations over, 7000 feet. The high altitude and high air temperature combined, with the fully loaded plane, could mean that I might not be able to take off at all due to the reduced performance. 

Aircraft performance is significantly affected by both altitude and air temperature. Later in the day the higher air temperature may mean that I could not take off safely.

The night before the flight I made the decision to simplify crossing the mountain range.

 The new plan was to make a two hour flight from Denver to Rawlins, Wyoming. I would spend the night there. Then I would be able to make the next leg by taking off very early in the morning, before the heat and the wind could complicate the passage.

So today I made the first leg. And what a beautiful flight! My son Josh drove me to the airport and, after a sad goodbye I launched into clear and calm sky.

Climbing out from Boulder Airport into clear and calm skies

First I flew along the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains north of Denver up to Cheyenne, Wyoming. From there I turned left towards Rawlins while keeping Highway 80 just off the left wing. It was two lanes in each direction and would be my emergency landing option should I have the need.

Flying the leeward side of the Rockies north of Denver

In this area the terrain is fairly flat. It is also expansive and dramatic. It was about this time something in my feeble brain registered an anomaly. I am flying over flat country, no hills or mountains. It was very strange to look at the altimeter and see 9000 feet above sea level and then look down and realize I was less than 1000 feet above Highway 80! For someone who mostly flies in central California, 9000 feet puts you way the hell up there! To be this "high" and be so close to level ground was a weird sensation.

9000 feet above sea level. 1000 feet above the ground. And it's flat!

Flying along Highway 80 on the way to Rawlins

In a short time the isolated town of Rawlins came into view and I made a decent landing on runway 22.

I opened the canopy and climbed out. Mike, the FBO guy, walked up to me and said, "Hi, Gary. Chad told me to say hello." I just stared at him as my mind tried to process something that made absolutely no sense.

This was, literally, the first time I have ever set foot in Wyoming. Also, no one knew I would be landing here today. And no one in Wyoming new my name. And that's not all. I don't know anyone named "Chad".

"Dude, you've got my confused with another Gary," says I. 

Before he could answer some guy sitting on the skids of a helicopter in the background yells, "Hi Gary!"

Da hell???

I also don't know any helicopter pilots.

There were two of them hanging out of a badass helicopter and grinning from ear to ear at me.

I'm starting to feel like I've entered an alternate universe. 

"Who ARE you?" I asked, staring at two guys who looked like Hollywood movie stars.

"It's Chad! Don't you remember me? You're from Groveland," he implores.

Now I'm feeling awkward. He even knows where I live. I'm getting older and I do forgot a lot of stuff.

"UHH, no."

"You remember - from the strip club!" he says. Both of them are still grinning from ear to ear like a pair of idiots.

Now I knew they were screwing with me somehow.

"I haven't been in a strip club since I was 18!" I exclaimed. "So how do you know my name?".

"Chad" explained he liked my plane and was curious about it.  So when I taxied by he quickly looked up the tail number on the FAA database and got my name and where I lived.

I started laughing. "That's a good one. You really got me."

It turns out they are contracted with the State of Wyoming as part of the fire watch. They become the controlling aircraft directing water bombers on larger fires and using their own water bucket on small fires. 

Chad really was interested in my plane and asked a lot of questions. Then they got a call and had to launch. Maverick and Goose climbed into their pretty bird chasing another fire. 

Maverick (Chad) and Goose (forgot his name) and their badass chopper

FYI - all helicopter pilots are smart-asses.

Once again I lucked out and got the use of the airport courtesy car. I drove to a nearby restaurant and had breakfast. While there I asked if there was any place to go swimming. It was in the 90's and I wanted to see a little more of this unusual Wyoming landscape. 

It turns out there was a crew car. I drove a few miles north through endless vistas of empty, wide open range country. 

Wide open range

I soon came across the North Platt River. No one was around and I didn't feel like sitting in wet shorts for a while so...

I dove in and took a few strokes. The water felt great. Until I realized there was a helluva current and I was now 20 yards downstream! After a brief moment of panic I started stroking like mad and managed to get to the shore. 

The water felt great

Afterwards I continued the northward drive to Seminoe Reservoir. Along the way I noticed a number of deer size animals. I had no idea what they were. Later I asked someone and found out they were antelope. Yes, I did feel stupid. I hate to say bad things about animals, but antelope are pretty ugly animals. At least these ones are. They have little moose heads.

This is apparently where the deer and ugly antelope play 

Seminoe Reservoir is massive and nearly deserted. Wyoming is truly a unique place and I can see why people love it. Except for the weather...

Seminoe Reservoir

Tomorrow comes the most concerning part of the whole trip. The flight through the narrow valley of the Rocky Mountains to Salt Lake City. 

Leg 13 - Hays Kansas to Boulder Colorado (BDU) - It happened, clear calm skies for the whole flight!

 I had a boring flight and loved every boring second of it!

I was anxious to see my son and his sweet life-partner Erica. I rolled out of bed at 6:30 am, ate a cup of maple and brown sugar instant oatmeal, and called a taxi. 

I had fueled up when I landed, but needed to add a quart of oil. For some reason my back was already hurting bad. The thought of climbing in the plane and sitting in that uncomfortable seat was more than I could bare. 

I swallowed some Motrin, laid down on the terminal, closed my eyes, and tried to relax. After 15 minutes I started to feel a little better so I headed for the plane.

 I think I got off the ground around 8am. The sky was clear with an 8 knot wind right  down the runway. I climbed out over the neat and orderly town of Hays, Kansas feeling good about this positive start.

Climbing out from Hays into clear skies and calm winds

There were no bumps in the air as the idyllic landscape spread out before me. I climbed up to 6500 feet and set the course for Boulder, Colorado. The air was like velvet. Perfectly smooth and soft. The plane flew like it was on a rail. This was just a perfect day!

I have been working on having a more positive outlook on day to day things. Forty years of working in engineering ingrained the concept of always looking for what can go wrong. It's a good attitude for engineering design. Not such a good way of looking at life. 

"Anticipate the best possible outcome" is a phrase I was introduced to recently. I am trying to make this attitude part of my daily life. Yet, this perfectly smooth air seemed almost two perfect. My mind started trying to look for what could go wrong with the weather. 

Kansas is beautiful from 8500 feet

Since Boulder airport was on the opposite side of Denver/Stapleton International, I called up Denver Center and requested flight following. I'd rather have been listening to my book on tape, but I was hoping if I was in contact with ATC early, they might clear me through the massive Class B airspace surrounding Denver airport. The alternative would be a 30 mile detour around the north side of the Bravo.

ATC told me I would need to climb higher for them to pick me up on radar. My first thought was, "Why the hell can't you see me at 6500 feet above sea level?"  Then I remembered Denver was at 5000 feet...   

I climbed up to 8500 feet and Denver Center called back, "Radar contact."

I don't like flying for extended periods at this altitude. I get dehydrated faster and I am sensitive to the lower oxygen levels. I can get foggy-headed and head-achy. This is exactly what happened. I sipped water (I still had an hour and a half before I could pee) and I took frequent hits on my can of bottled oxygen. It helped a bit.

The country-side was a patchwork of empty fields and crops. The view was pretty awesome. However  right about here the engineer in me is thinking, "Here come the clouds to mess with my perfect day. 

The dark spots on the ground are the shadows of the clouds developing overhead

Then I saw a wisp of cloud at my level.

The wispy cloud at my altitude could be a sign of bad things to come

Just as I started to stress over this tiny cloud a voice in my head said, "Anticipate the best possible outcome." At that moment I decided to follow this advice. (Linda, you would have been proud of me!). I chose to believe I would continue to have perfect weather all the way to Denver. As it turned out that is exactly what happened.

A small river winds through the eastern Colorado landscape

About 20 miles from the Bravo airspace Denver Center handed me off to Denver Approach. About 5 miles from the Bravo I heard the dreaded words, "N972GL, remain clear of the Bravo." 

Crap! Approach control was very busy handling dozens of commercial jets and airliners and was just too busy to help me today. I had a rough plan to skirt the north side of the Bravo in case I was denied. However, I had not mapped a specific route. I quickly picked a half a dozen waypoints on the GPS and resigned myself  for the thirty mile detour.

The view out the canopy made me realize this was no hardship.

Somewhere north of Denver with the mighty Rockies in the background

As I approached Boulder Airport the sky was still clear, and calm, and perfect!

Just northeast of Boulder Airport, everything is green and beautiful from all the rain

I finally had a perfect day of flying. It got even better when I got to see Josh and Erica. I love them both very much!

Erica and Josh from a recent trip to Moab

Leg 12 - Joplin (JLN) to Hays, Kansas (HYS) - started great, but that soon changed

 At some point I must have really pissed off the aviation weather gods. I'm not sure how or when, but this trip clearly shows it to be true.

I had such hope as I launched out of Joplin around 9:30 this morning. It was already warm under the bubble canopy as I climbed into a fairly calm and cloudless sky.

Clear skies climbing out of Joplin

 The forecast along the route was mostly clear skies and mild winds. However, there were a few intermediate airports reporting scattered clouds at 2200 feet. I initially leveled off at 4500 feet but it was too warm so I climbed up to cooler air at 6500. 

The air was calm, the cockpit comfortable, and the visibility was good. The ADSB (which allows most aircraft to see me on their gps) was fired up and I decided to pass on flight following and listen to a book on tape.

I started a Jack Reacher novel and relaxed back in my seat. Now THIS was the kind of flying I had in mind! Only minor corrections on the stick, lots of landing options below, and no traffic or clouds to worry about. I was finally in pilot-heaven and life was good. Three hours of this and I would have an short day of flying and the afternoon to relax. 

But, of course, the aviation weather gods were just screwing with me. Somewhere up above a big, fat, bloated, sentient being was gleefully planning to wreak havoc on my sunny day. 

He did not wait long. Soon an unforecast band of broken clouds began to drift in my direction. They were only a few hundred feet thick with bases around 3500 feet. No problem, I'll just stay up high and keep a sharp watch that they don't close up on me and trap me on top. Well, now I was a little less relaxed.

Only a few minutes later and I realized the broken layer was filling in to a solid overcast. Crap! There was a hole to my left so I pulled power and set the nose into a steep dive in order to get through it before it closed up. Almost too late I realized the airspeed was approaching redline! I quickly pulled back power, and increased the pitch slightly, to slow the damn thing down. 

As I dove below the cloud deck I was dismayed to see how the visibility had dropped significantly. The moisture trapped below the clouds created a heavy haze in the air. And of course it was turbulent. 

"Here we go again, dammit!", I thought. 

So much for my relaxed flight. Once again, no part of the rest of this flight was going to be enjoyable. This kind of flying is stressful, unpleasant, and just sucks.

Crappy, bumpy, poor visibility under the cloud deck

Somehow I need to appease the aviation weather gods. I'm thinking of sacrificing a goat under a full moon while standing naked on a mountain top...

Part of my pre-flight planning had identified some very tall towers along my route of flight for today. They reached up to 2500 feet. Now I was trapped under a 3500 foot cloud base, dipping up and down in the turbulence. I now had to worry about slamming into a tower! Did I mention this was not fun?

I tried to calm myself by focusing on altitude control, and avoiding the towers shown on the GPS. It as only another 45 minutes to my destination and then this ordeal would be over. 

Well, not really. The worst was yet to come. And I swear I am not making any of this up, or even exaggerating.

At 35 miles from Hays Airport I punched in the Automated Surface Observation System frequency to get the wind and altimeter setting for the airport.

"Hays airport automated weather, wind 340 at 24 knots gusting to 30 knots...," that's all I heard. WTF? In thirty years of flying I have never landed in a 30 knot wind. And the wind was not aligned with the runway. "F word, F word, F word".

I may need to sacrifice two goats, and a couple of chickens....

I decided I was going to make this a straight-in approach. Normally this is considered rather poor form, and inconsiderate to other pilots. I didn't care. I wanted the long straight-in to get a feel for the wind and how my tiny plane was going to react and respond to this extreme wind. 

To be clear, a 30 knot wind (about 35 mph) is not extreme for a larger plane, but in my light-weight, light sport, aircraft it's a very big deal. This is especially true for me because I've never flown in these conditions. 

As I flew down the final approach a downdraft slammed my head into the canopy. It didn't hurt but it surprised the hell out of me. As I get closer to the runway I try to side-slip to adjust for the right crosswind while using the rudder to keep the nose aligned with the runway. It sort of worked and I managed to plant the airplane on the runway under some kind of control. I'm not sure if I was flying the plane or just holding on for dear life.

A line guy came out and directed me to park next to a very cool jet. 

It took both of us holding the canopy, to keep it from flying away, as I climbed out.

Safely on the ground at Hays airport

Anyone know where I can buy a couple of goats and some chickens?