Highest to lowest

The highest point in the Lower 48 United States is Mt. Whitney, rising 14,505 feet above sea level.  Conversely, the lowest point is Badwater Basin Death Valley, at 282 feet below sea level.  Both of these geographically interesting points are located within California, are surprisingly close to each other, and are readily accessible by air.  I should mention here that to make this trip to Mt. Whitney by an unpressurized aircraft, one needs to have O₂ onboard as well as an unshakable faith that their engine will continue running during their traverse along the highest peaks in the Sierras.

My goals for this day trip were to fly by Whitney and then down to Furnace Creek (L06) which would serve as a proxy for the nearby Badwater Basin.  The Furnace Creek airport is itself, 210 feet below sea level.  My secondary goal was to fly my RV-7A below sea level for no good reason other than the novelty of it.  After scouting Furnace Creek we would continue south down the length of Death Valley, and then some, finally arriving at the Route 66 roadside attraction of Amboy CA.

I planned this outing as an easy day trip that would have us leaving mid-morning and returning in the late afternoon.  And so it was that we departed around 10:00 AM for the leisurely flight down the quilted agricultural patchwork that is the Sacramento Valley.  Multi-hued fields of green and tan on our right and the snow-capped Sierras to our left guided our journey southward.  Soon we were abeam the famed Yosemite National Park.  El Capitan and Half Dome are visible at center left:

We continued our southerly track passing the city of Fresno and thence reaching the town of Reedley (O32), we cast our common sense aside and headed directly into the heart of the Sierras.  At the same time, I began a slow climb to about 15000'.

I'm immediately impressed by the jagged nature of the southern Sierras.  Needless to say, this would not be the best time for an engine failure.  Fortunately for us, our IOX370 purred along beautifully as I leaned and re-leaned the mixture down to about 6.7 gallons/hour.  Our gentle climb kept us well above the peaks.  This view is looking northeast:

As we approached Mt. Whitney (below, center right), the wind steadily increased and our crab angle into the crosswind was quite apparent.  Our direction of travel was directly at Whitney, but notice the direction the plane is pointed. We ultimately experienced over 20 knots on our left as we leveled off ten miles or so before our flyby.

The mountains below gradually rise to meet us as we continued our approach. This gives us the uncomfortable impression that we were not high enough to clear the final ridgeline.  Also, we were beginning to get into some mechanical turbulence caused by the wind blowing over the jagged peaks to the left of us.

The closer we got to Whitney, the worse the turbulence became. Although we were level at 15000', our altitude above the rocks was steadily diminishing as we approached the highest peaks.  The turbulence had become worrisome to me, and I assume Carol as well, but she wasn't saying anything.  Updrafts and downdrafts in excess of 1500 feet per minute were coming in rapid succession.  I knew the autopilot was about to switch off, so I turned it off myself to avoid the surprise.  I slowed the aircraft as much as I dared below Vₐ considering our altitude and my strong desire to maintain it.  The aircraft responds slowly in this thin air, I thought, as I worked to maintain level flight.

Our direct path would have taken us over the valley between Mt. Russel (foreground below) and Mt. Whitney.  Instead, I elected to fly the upwind side of Mt. Russel where rising air should keep us safely above the granite.  I could still get a nice picture of the mountain only 1 mile distant.  I really didn't want to deal with the turbulence in that narrow valley.   

I put the camera down to concentrate on remaining upright as we skimmed over Mt. Russel and then Mt. Whitney.  I did take a couple of quick looks out the right side as we made our closest approach to the mountain.  I didn't see any climbers, but I could clearly make out the small stone storm shelter that stands on the summit.  Now that we've been to, or at least in the near vicinity of the highest point in the conterminous U.S., it was time to begin our descent.  I looked back for one last picture, capturing the eastern edge of the Sierras.  Mt. Whitney is at the center-left and the town of Lone Pine is just off the lower right corner.

We were descending across the Owens Valley heading east, being careful not to descend too far lest we have to climb up again to clear the 5000' peaks in the Panamint range just ahead of us.  Then, having avoided those peaks we continued our descent with the expanse of Death Valley laying before us.  Below:  The north end of the valley and sand dunes.

There were no other aircraft on the field or in the air near Furnace Creek.  We entered left downwind for 33 and then proceeded to land on the very rough runway.  I thought we were completely deserted in the desert until we came across this old guy parked just off of the ramp.  We had to pass by his truck on the way to the restroom and I was afraid he might want to warn us about global warming or the patriarchy, or worse, lecture me on my privilege.  To my great relief, he seemed to want to avoid us.  As we approached he walked around to the opposite side of his truck.

Refreshed, I signed the guest book in the small terminal building and we headed back to the plane.  Once again we passed the colorful pickup without incident and I took this picture of Carol on the empty ramp before we strapped in for our departure south.

I used a soft field technique in an attempt to minimize the pounding the plane would take from the rough runway as we departed Furnace Creek.  Carol was ready with the camera as I circled back to make a low pass over the runway.  And here is the "proof" that we flew below sea level -- our altimeter at -200 feet.  You'll just have to trust me that it was set to the current barometric conditions.

The next stop would be Amboy California. But first, we had to traverse the length of Death Valley and skirt the east side of a whole lot of restricted airspace.

When we approached Amboy, I made a low pass over the gravel runway to check things out.  The runway seemed doable, but there were some rough spots visible.  I circled back to land into the wind opposite the low pass I just made.  

Going in this direction, one avoids the power lines along the road and then drops in over the top of the gas station, being careful to miss the radio tower on the right.

We touched down normally and I held the nose wheel off as long as I could. Now that I can see the gravel up close I'm thinking this may not have been such a good idea, just as a 4" deep rut comes screaming into view diagonally across our path. We were still rolling along at a good clip, but far too slow to lift the nose -- let alone fly. There was very little time to brake or steer away from it.  We hit it pretty hard but kept right on going straight ahead. Since we weren't upside down now, I'm (wishfully) thinking that we must have gotten away with it.

We continued our rollout until we slowed enough that we could turn around and taxi back toward the Amboy gas station/cafe.  As we taxied back I could feel that the runway was softer in spots than I expected.  When we got back to the "rut" I had just hit, I attempted to cross it in a much shallower spot which turned out to be soft sand.  And that was as far as we got.  We were stuck midway down the runway.

At this point, I'm still naively thinking that we'll just get someone to pull us out and...  We both jump out and walk around to the front of the plane.  Wait for it.  Yes, it's a flat tire.  The mains were stuck in the sand, the nose wheel is flat, and my front wheel pant is shredded.  Other than that, everything is peachy.

It's never a good sign when the toolbox comes out, but on this day, I'm very thankful that I have one.  What I don't seem to have is the spare nose wheel tube that I thought I had.¹  After a quick inspection though, I find no visible damage other than the wheel pant, and of course, the flat tire.  I let Carol get a head start towards Amboy while I removed the damaged wheel pant.

We pass this empty hangar on the way.

When we get to the gas station/cafe the man behind the counter informs us that the nearest city from which we might expect help is Twentynine Palms and that it is nearly an hour away by automobile.  Hmm.  He then put me in touch with the "Mayor" of Amboy who just happens to live across the street in a 5th wheel parked behind the post office.  The mayor, whose real name is Curt, turns out to be a retired firefighter and a heck of a nice guy.

I already knew that we hadn't damaged the front tire, but I couldn't be sure about the condition of the tube other than its demonstrated inability to hold air.  I told Curt that I think I can fix the tire right here.  So the mayor drives us out to the plane in his pickup and then holds down the tail while I remove the nose wheel.  We then return to the gas station where I disassemble the wheel to remove the tube.  There was a tub of water in the back room of the gas station/cafe that allowed me to confirm that the tube had only one small hole to let the air out.  Yea!  

As luck would have it, Curt knew an A and P mechanic who was in Twentynine Palms and he was planning to come out to Amboy later in the afternoon.  A quick phone call was all that was necessary to enlist his help by picking up an innertube repair kit for us.  Things were looking up and all we had to do now is wait.  We sat outside at a picnic table under the gas station awning with our disassembled wheel in parts before us.  The conversation came easily with Curt until he had to bow out to attend a wedding.  Surprisingly, he didn't leave the table, he just took out his phone and witnessed the nuptials from where he was seated.  This is life with COVID -- Zoom weddings.  I took this pause in the action to snap a few photos of the iconic Route 66 stop. 

In a short time, our innertube repair kit arrived and the hole was quickly patched.  While we waited for the glue to dry we learned that our A and P had plans to renovate the hangar pictured earlier.  We talked of planes and of life in the desert.  It was all very enjoyable, but we were going to run out of daylight if we didn't get going soon. So the wheel was reassembled with the help of Curt supplying some baby powder to lube the tube, as it were.  The gas station's compressor made quick work of our tiny tire and I was greatly relieved to see that the patch was successful.

Our new A and P friend drove us back out to our plane and I quickly reinstalled the nose wheel and packed up my tools.  I lamented not having a file to dress the prop, but the A and P happened to have a file in his toolbox.  A few quick strokes with the file and we were ready to go.

Now, which way to take off?  Having seen the runway close up between us and the gas station/cafe a couple of times now, I was pretty sure that I didn't want to attempt our departure there with all the soft sand and ruts.  Going the other way from where we were looked like a better bet and a light wind favored that direction.  However, we would be taking off midway down the runway which I estimate was about 3000' in total.  In our favor, the desert held no obstacles to clear.  All that remained was to pull the plane out of the soft sand where it had been stuck all afternoon and turn it around on the runway. Then pull it back through the sand and the rut to an area of more firm gravel that lay just a little bit further down the runway.  The A and P's truck did the pulling as I walked beside making sure all was well.

There was nothing left to do now except for the goodbyes and thank-yous.  I was a little apprehensive about the short runway, but I knew that on asphalt we could be airborne in less than 500' and I was looking at 3 times that amount now.  What I didn't know, was how long it would take to get going on this less-than-ideal surface.  I did our normal runup and when we were ready, I held the brakes tightly and applied full power.  When I released the brakes we did not lurch forward as we would have on a hard surface, but we began to slowly and steadily pick up speed.  Soon, I was able to ease the nose wheel off.  The runway was rough and we bounced along for a second or two not quite flying.  When we were able to lift off a few feet I leveled in ground effect to accelerate normally.  As we climbed out I circled the field once crossing over the runway we just left. I gave a wing wag to our A and P friend that was watching us depart.

Initially, we flew a north-westerly route circumnavigating the restricted airspace, R2501, to the west of Amboy.  Then, once clear of that obstacle, we turned southwest for Big Bear City and fly straight into the setting sun.  The detour to Big Bear was obligated by our need for fuel and by their notoriously low fuel prices.

It was surprisingly cold at 6700' after having just been in the desert only 30 minutes ago.  I finished fueling in the chill air and deepening twilight, happy with myself that I just saved $15 on gas, blissfully not remembering for the moment that I had just shattered a nose wheel pant that will cost me 20 times as much to replace.

We departed Big Bear to the east towards lower terrain and then turned west-northwest to avoid having to cross the Sierras at night.  As we pass Victorville we can see dozens of COVID parked airliners. In the dim light, we can just make out that they have been parked down the length of one of the two runways.  Then, rounding the corner of restricted airspace at Edwards AFB, we turn northwest and are greeted with the spectacular sight of thousands of blinking red lights below.  The massive wind farm at Tehachapi is very impressive during the daylight, and as it turns out, it's something to see at night as well.

The remainder of the flight home was uneventful as we bisected the Sacramento Valley from Bakersfield to Merced before turning further north for the final leg to Grass Valley.  We battled a 30Kt headwind all the way home, but it was mostly smooth, if slow flying.  The nighttime view of the shimmering illuminated cities dotting the valley was a merciful distraction from the punishing headwind.  We landed back in Grass Valley at 8:30PM,  about 4 hours later than the plan.

By the end of the day, we had seen 872 nautical miles of California.  We flew by the highest peak in the lower 48 states and then we flew our little plane below sea level.  We saw craggy alpine peaks up close and we flew the length of Death Valley. We walked through the sand, gravel, and tumbleweed of the Mojave desert while visiting an iconic Route 66 attraction.  We also experienced a near catastrophe that in the end, cost us only a flat tire and some plastic.  It's hard to believe that it all happened in just one day.  In retrospect, and now in the comfort of my home office,  I can say that I loved every minute of it.  This kind of vivid life experience is the true magic of general aviation.

 

¹ The next day I found that I had fully recovered from my innertube blindness.  While unloading the plane, I found the spare nosewheel innertube in the baggage compartment right where it was supposed to be.  That my hurried search at Amboy failed to find it shall remain forever a mystery...

Road Trip by Air

Recently my wife, Carol, lamented that we never go on road trips anymore.  This is true, but only because I can't stand driving anywhere that I could easily fly.  It was mid-October and businesses were being allowed to reopen in the wake of COVID. This was before the recent uptick in cases and, at the time it seemed as though life was about to return to normal (outside of California that is, where life is never normal).  So why not go on a grand road trip?  Hmm.  Okay, let's do that.  Naturally, this would be a road trip by air since I no longer have the patience, as I mentioned, for actual road travel.

In addition to just seeing the country, we wanted to check out a few places as possible retirement locations.  Specifically, Northern Idaho, Tennessee, Northern Alabama, and the Austin Texas area.

So I put together a rough flight plan that would take us first to the Boise area to drop off our dog with her Grandma and then to Coeur D'Alene ID (KCOE).  We would then fly diagonally southward taking advantage of the prevailing winds and of course, gravity, pulling us toward the bottom of the map. Our easterly goal would then be the entire state of Tennessee.  After which we will continue southward to Hattiesburg MS to visit my sister, followed by a sprint home passing Austin TX along the way.

The trip from our home base of Grass Valley CA (KGOO) to Idaho has become rather routine for us as we've traveled this leg many times to visit my mother who lives in  Meridian ID, with her closest airport being Nampa (KMAN).   Departing our 25, we turn right until I see the Sierra Buttes on the horizon.  It is a straight line of 330 nautical miles from Grass Valley to Nampa going directly over the buttes.  

Passing over the 8600' rocky crags marks the completion of the first 28 nautical miles.

The rest of the flight to Idaho follows a path through northern Nevada and eastern Oregon before descending into the Boise valley over the Owyhee mountains, and finally, crossing the Snake River.  At this point I'd like to say something nice about the scenery offered by Nevada and Oregon on this leg -- but I can't...

A few days later with my mother visited and the dog dropped off, we were about to depart Nampa when we happened across a guy named Opie in the terminal building.  Seriously, Opie?  Yep, stocky, medium height, red hair, and a broad smile, his nickname was obvious. He was a genial sort and the conversation came easily. Pointing across the ramp, he enquired about our RV-7A.  In time our conversation naturally drifted to where we were going.  He instantly brightened as he gave up his tip on the best place to eat while we visited Coeur D'Alene.  "We'll see", I said over my shoulder as we walked out to the plane.

At mid-morning we departed to the north for the hour and a half flight to Coeur D'Alene.  We encountered some fairly sharp turbulence mid-way, but after climbing up to 10,500' it smoothed out considerably.

Flying along the western edge of Idaho the terrain is mostly mountainous and unexpectedly colorful.

We were treated to some spectacular views of the Snake River, especially in the Hell's Canyon area:

By the time we were abeam Lewiston and Pullman about 25 miles out to our left, the topology had flattened to low rolling hills and we soon had Lake Coeur D'Alene straight ahead.

But off to our right, we spotted a picturesque little town in a green valley beside the St. Joe river.  It was so beautiful we just had to go investigate.  St. Maries (S72) is a town of about 2400 according to Wikipedia, but sadly, we will be unable to vouch for that little bit of trivia as we did not encounter a single soul about the airport during our 30 minute visit.  They did seem to have multiple courtesy cars available if anyone is interested.

I don't know for sure if this would be a great place to live, but it sure is pretty from the air.

Now, this was truly a surprise.  This F-100F is a working weather vane.

Soon enough we were back in the air headed for Coeur D'Alene airport.

The airport turned out to be a sprawling affair with passenger service on one side of its V-shaped crossing runways and everything else on the other.  After a considerable time taxiing, we eventually found an FBO where we could get fuel and a rental car.

I have previously noted how frequently we seem to end up at Walmart on these trips -- not that there is anything wrong with that.  But on this outing, the trip to the big W occurred on the very first day, a new record for us.  It seems that I neglected to bring any tie-down ropes and the FBO didn't provide them.  

For the balance of the day, we drove around and sized up the city.  I even got a haircut -- my first professional do in eight months, which was nice.  And then we went to dinner.  We found the restaurant recommended by our Nampa friend, Opie.  It's called "Capone's." 

Opie was spot on with his recommendation.  This is exactly the kind of place we love.  Carol and I shared their Pepperoni Amour special which according to their food specials menu was: 

"Award winning crust topped w/house made marinara, fried pepperoni & mozzarella!

 THEN!

 topped w/more pepperoni, garlic cheese mix and even MORE pepperoni!"

We had a great time there enjoying the food and excellent beer selection.  Along with our leisurely dinner, we chatted with several cheerful locals that we soon discovered were recent refugees from California.  It turns out that finding people fleeing the Golden State is not so hard to do.

The next morning brought a lot of rain and a little hangover.  Fortunately, my wife was there to capture the moment forever.

The situation was improved considerably by the addition of a Denny's Grand Slam.  However, the rain and low ceilings remained, so we were forced to accept a no-fly day.  Consequently, we continued our adventure on the ground.  In the morning we explored the area to the east along I-90 to the town of Kellogg.  On the way back we took the back roads through the town of Smelterville whose name leaves little doubt about what was going on there.  And then on through Pinehurst, Kingston, and Cataldo.  It was a great little drive back to Coeur D'Alene that we would have missed entirely if the weather had been better.

Then in the afternoon, we walked around the tourist trappy area of downtown Coeur D'Alene, eventually eating dinner at a completely forgettable pub whose name I can't remember.  We were the only customers there at 6:30 PM on a Sunday night and it was ridiculously quiet.  However, there were some subtle signs that hint at livelier times.  To wit, a peddle powered margarita mixer:

The forecast for the next day was for generally improving weather, but this was not so obvious to us when we first got up.  There were very low ceilings in the area forcing us to wait.  By 11:30 AM the weather had improved to the point that we could depart for nearby Sandpoint ID (KSZT).  We flew the 33 miles to Sandpoint at about 1500' AGL which was perfect for sightseeing.

We were provided a courtesy car by Granite Aviation, so we were able to drive around the city of Sandpoint eventually stopping at a hamburger stand for lunch.  We found Sandpoint to be an attractive little community perfect for the snowbird who doesn't have to endure its (according to the locals) long dreary winter.  Although, if one were prone to skiing in the winter and flying in the summer this might be the perfect place.

By the early afternoon, it was time to move on.  We departed Sandpoint intending to go to Missoula MT, but the weather to the east would not permit crossing the mountains because of the low ceilings.  Instead, we flew south with the plan to turn east as soon as the weather permits.  About a hundred miles south we can see the weather improving so we turned initially for Butte MT and then for Bozeman MT.  We flew VFR over the top most of the way to Bozeman with occasional peeks at the mountainous terrain below.  This view to the east looks worse in terms of the cloud layer than the view ahead of us:

In the late afternoon, we finally descended into the Bozeman Yellowstone International airport.  I have to admit that I got a bit of a chuckle when I learned of its international status.  I doubt that anyone is ever likely to confuse Bozeman International with SFO. 

We pulled into the Signature FBO and they took care of fueling our plane and unloading my wallet.  We've been to Signature FBOs many times and we already knew what to expect.  Never-the-less, I'll admit that I reflexively clinched a little when I pulled out my credit card.  Oh well, onward and upward...  We got an Uber and soon all that was behind me.  Our hotel was taking the COVID mask thing to extremes, but fortunately our dinner location was not, and it turned out to be a lot of fun.  Old Chicago is a sports bar and restaurant with a surprisingly good beer menu.  It was obviously a chain, but it was new to me.   

The next morning we departed Bozeman International with the intention of flying down through the Yellowstone valley taking glorious photos of the Grand Prismatic Spring, Old Faithful, and the Grand Tetons before turning east for Tennessee.  

Just off of Bozeman, I was already climbing at Vx  (best angle) to get over a cloud layer.  Soon the layer closed in and we found ourselves VFR on top again.  Ahead, the clouds were building higher and higher as we continued south picking our way between billowing white columns and at the same time steadily climbing to stay on top.  At one point I became uncomfortable with our situation and I turned 180 degrees intending to retreat towards Bozeman, but in the turn, I saw a new path forward, so we continued on.

Alas, we saw very little of Yellowstone, just the occasional hole in the layer below allowing a brief glimpse of the ground.  There were no geysers or buffalo to be seen, although the gigantic pillowy white cumulus clouds all around us were spectacular in their own right.  It became clear that the weather on this heading would remain unclear and we decided to give up on Yellowstone and turn east towards improving weather and the state of Tennessee.  Sadly, our first fuel stop would be windswept Riverton (KRIW) in central Wyoming instead of Jackson Hole beside the Grand Tetons.

While we were fueled we ate some lunch out of the FBO vending machines and we soon departed Riverton reprising our southeasterly path.  On we went, diagonally across Wyoming and Nebraska on a track that would have us near St Louis by the end of our flying day.

Unfortunately, the weather changes and so do our plans.  About two hours out of Riverton we began to see cloud layers ahead and the METARs for points east and north showed a solid low overcast.  We could also see that the weather looked much better to the south.  Just a few miles northeast of McCook NE we turned south, heading toward Oklahoma City with just the state of Kansas standing between us and our new destination.  I really, really, hated to make that turn because up to that time we had been enjoying some tremendous tailwinds -- up to 70 Kts at times.  There are few things that will make a pilot more cheerful than a strong tailwind.

Having turned south we needed to choose a new place to refuel, somewhere mid-way through Kansas.  Before we had a chance to select a refueling site a cloud layer began to form beneath us.  It's okay as long as there are still some holes to get down through, I thought.  But soon enough it was a solid layer and I don't think we had yet crossed into Kansas.

Once again it was decision time.  We could stop here or continue on hoping that the weather would clear further south.  We had enough fuel for a least 3 more hours if needed, and all of the METARs south of Oklahoma City were showing clear skies.  We flew on with the certain knowledge that the overcast layer would dissipate before we reached our destination of Sundance OK (KHSD).  But would it really?  Sundance was still two hours ahead and we would not have enough fuel to return to McCook (the last clear place we saw) if we found out that Sundance was socked in.  I was becoming uncomfortable for the second time that day.

On and on we flew, over top of the overcast layer; a rumpled blanket of white.  The sinking sun was starting to cast long shadows across the tops as I strained to see any sign of the layer beneath breaking up.  My anxiety was building as the METAR for Sundance was now reporting a broken layer above.

 

Continuing our southerly track, we crossed the Oklahoma border still VFR over the top and 85 nautical miles to go.  At Enid OK there was still no sign of the layer breaking up.  Now only 45 miles out we began to receive the AWOS which indicated Sundance was overcast.  This is not good.  We still have an hour and a half of fuel so my new plan was to overfly Sundance and then just continue south until we found the edge of the layer.

In another 15 minutes, we would be over Sundance and the layer was as solid as ever, but I started to see something on the horizon.  The cloud layer looked a little different.  As we got closer I could see some thin spots that I would definitely go down through if necessary.  At three miles out we crossed the edge of the layer.  I wish I would have taken a picture of it as there was a definite edge to it.  It just stopped and everything beyond was clear in the late afternoon sunshine.  I don't know if the AWOS was wrong or if the overcast retreated in the short time since we last listened to it.

I refueled the plane in the last rays of sunshine at Sundance feeling quite relieved that our weather predictions had held up after all.  I was also relieved that the FBO was still open after our 4.5 hour flight.

We departed to the east with the determination that we would fly until it was dark or we caught up with the low overcast again.  It didn't take long before both conditions would stop our day's journey.  In the fading twilight, we set down at Stillwater OK (KSWO) concluding a long day of flying that started in Bozeman MT.

The FBO had no courtesy cars, but we had no trouble getting an Uber.  Along the way, we chatted with the driver about hotels and dining options and she mentioned that she would be on duty until 9:00 PM. We selected the Wyndham Garden because it had a restaurant, and after all, we could always get another Uber if we wanted to eat elsewhere.  After we check-in, we discover that the hotel's restaurant was closed due to COVID.  We got a distinct impression that we were the hotel's only guests. It was a little creepy there, but we were tired and ready for some dinner.  Our next surprise came only minutes later when we discovered that there were no Uber drivers on duty.  Our driver that was going to be on duty for two more hours wasn't.   Fortunately, there were some restaurants still open about a half mile down the road. So we finished the day's travels on foot and I learned that Buffalo Wild Wings in Stillwater has some pretty good beers.

The next day was severe clear.  Since Tennessee was so close we were in no big hurry.  We departed about 11:30 AM for Tennessee.  Our strategy for the state was to sample it in three locations:  west, central, and east.  We weren't exactly tourists, it was more like we were on a fact-finding mission.  What would it be like to live in Tennessee?  So there won't be any Nashville, or Graceland for us.  We selected Clarksville, Crossville, and Elizabethton mostly because of their geographic locations.  Also, we have friends living near Crossville.

We skimmed along the gently rolling terrain north of Tulsa OK and then clipped the northern corner of Arkansas before entering southern Missouri.  After a couple of hours, we decided that we should stop for lunch.  A quick search found Airways restaurant at Dexter MO (KDXE) which was not far off our course to Clarksville.  We tried calling several times which is at best a hit and miss affair.  Carol finally got through and she was assured that if we arrived before 2:00 PM we would be able to place our order.  That was all I needed to hear.  "Prepare for the jump to lightspeed, Carol.  I think we can make it."  We were already fairly close so the additional speed probably didn't help much, but we did make it to the front door of Airways at 1:55 PM and, you guessed it, it was locked.  I was hungry so I went ahead and knocked on the door anyway.  To my surprise, it was promptly answered.  A polite lady said the griddle was already off so it was too late to order.  Well alrighty then.  Thank-you for the landing practice.

The next order of business was to complete the remaining 120 miles to Clarksville (KCKV).  The Clarksville airport is unusual in that this uncontrolled airport is completely contained within the class D airspace of Fort Campbell army air force base.  To land at Clarksville you must first call Campbell approach and then avoid the restricted air space the blocks any direct route from the west.  The airport at Clarksville is quite nice, upscale even, and busier than I would have expected considering the hassle it is to land there.  We were given a very nice (almost new) Ford explorer as a courtesy car overnight which allowed us to drive around the area and see the city.  We thoroughly enjoyed having a new courtesy car for once. Although one unusual thing was that the car key came attached to an enormous key chain like one might find used for a service station restroom.

A web search revealed that Old Chicago Sports Bar had a Clarksville location.  We decided to attempt a repeat of the great evening we enjoyed in Bozeman, two nights prior.  It didn't start well when this Californian had to circle the shopping area where it was located twice before I could see a path to their parking lot.  Eventually, I uncovered an alley between two other buildings where I was able to sneak up on the restaurant from behind.

The first thing I notice when the hostess tried to seat us was that all of the beer tap handles were missing.  Blasphemy!  I enquired hoping that what I was seeing was just some very unfortunate misunderstanding.  Sadly, she explained that there was a change of ownership and that they temporarily don't have a license...blah, blah, blah...  Thank you, we're out.

Well, we eventually did get some food at the Clarksville Buffalo Wild Wings which turned out not nearly as much fun as their Stillwater location due in part to a substandard beer selection and their own personal double secret COVID rules.  Other than the awesome courtesy car and the super nice people at the airport we didn't find that much to recommend Clarksville.  We found the roads were jammed everywhere we went.  I guess it's just grown too big and trafficy.

Next up was a short 120 nautical mile hop to Crossville TN (KCSV).  Along the way, the terrain's gentle undulations became more pronounced and even hilly in some places.  All of it quite beautiful in the summer shades of green and fall's amber.  Approaching Crossville we could see their airport set beside a small lake and the city beyond. The city of Crossville itself is about 12,000 people according to Wikipedia, so it is an order of magnitude smaller than Clarksville.   This is much closer to what we consider ideal.  We taxied to the transient ramp in front of the terminal building, unloaded, and tied down.

Our friends who live in the nearby community of Fairfield Glade were delayed and that gave us the chance to meet Johnna who works behind the desk in the terminal building.  She's super nice and her inviting bright smile makes conversation come easily.  We peppered her with questions about living in Crossville and she cheerfully answered all. 

After a while, I decided to walk across the ramp to an open hangar.  Just outside the hangar I found a couple and their friend sitting on folding chairs chatting, and laughing, and enjoying the sunshine.  They were building a Sonex One aircraft in their hangar although they seemed to be engaged in a lot more talking than building.  I could tell right away that these were my kind of people.  We talked for some time about my RV-7A and then their Sonex project and just generally about living in Tennessee.  I had lost track of time, but soon our friends arrived and I was called back.

For the balance of the day, we enjoyed the company of our friends Robin and Jeanne who had recently relocated from California.  We met Robin and Jeanne way back in the late '90s at the Sacramento Area Miata Owners Association.

Our first order of business was to get lunch at a local sports bar named Spike's and then it was on to their house in Fairfield Glade.  Jeanne and Carol left to play Mexican Train with the girls while Robin and I drove around the Glade and talked about living in a retirement community.  That evening we gathered with some of their new Tennessee friends and a couple of old ones, Mike and Jennifer, that we already knew from California via the Miata club.  We ate a very nice dinner at one of their favorite restaurants and chatted into the evening.

The next morning Carol and I made a short flight in marginal weather to scout out the area by air to see Fairfield Glade and the surrounding area from above.  What we saw impressed us.  Later, Robin and Mike took me on a drive through the Tennessee countryside to visit two Microbreweries.  The first, Lilly Pad  Hopyard Brewery was some 28 miles out into the sticks, but it was worth the drive.  Here Robin and Mike choose their first pint:

The brewery was an outdoor affair.  You purchase your beer at the green table that sits in the doorway of the barn containing the brewing equipment and then enjoy your brew in the fresh air at one of several picnic tables.

The second brewery puts the micro in microbrew.  It was called Swing On and was just a metal building beside the owner's house.  Inside, the brewery was split across the middle by a bar with five or six stools and a couple of small tables.  Behind the bar lay the brewing equipment.  The very nice lady working behind the bar was co-owner Lara, who chatted with us while we sampled a couple of pretty good pints.  Here Robin and Mike race ahead to the brew:

Later that evening Mike and Jennifer hosted Carol and me along with Robin and Jeanne at their awesome home on lake Dartmore for cocktails and an excellent dinner.

The next day was rainy so we drove around the area in the Crossville airport's courtesy car, did laundry, and changed hotels -- twice.  We decided to change because our first hotel, Comfort Suites, the hotel that we'd already spent two nights in, had some bugs on the ceiling.  I think they were dead, but it was still a little creepy lying there looking up and bugs.  We checked into the Baymont and left there after five minutes when we discovered the room was wet.  Sitting briefly in the chair soaked through Carol's pants.  We don't know if there was a leak or something else, but we were out.  We finally settled at Hampton Inn for our final night in Crossville.

It was a very rainy night, but the weather had cleared by early afternoon the next day.  We left Crossville headed for Elizabethton TN (0A9) about 144 nautical miles to the east.  The first half of the hour long flight was uneventful.  Then I began to notice that the voltage output from the alternator was slowly creeping higher.  It was 15 volts and then 15.5 volts and on up to 16.1 volts where it seemed to hold and was insensitive to varying loads I applied (Landing and taxi lights on/off) or cycling the alternator field.  This occupied my attention for a few minutes and then I had a series of electrical faults in my electronic circuit breakers (Vertical Power VPX).  First the intercom, then the radios, then the alternator field.  I reset them and tried different combinations without success using the VPX menu on the G3X display (EFIS).  The field winding overloaded even with no loads on it other than my EFIS display screen.  The alternator faults intermittently indicated over voltage instead of short circuit.  I was inclined to think that there were no actual faults and instead it was my Vertical Power unit itself that had gone berserk.  The EFIS went black just as I was about to land at Elizabethton.  That in itself was not a big problem as I have backup airspeed and altimeter instruments.  I landed, taxied, and parked in front of the terminal without the alternator, radio, or EFIS display screens.  It wasn't until I shut down that I realized that I had entered a catch-22.  This is the Elizabethon airport ramp looking east across the runway.

Without the EFIS displays working I could not reset the Vertical Power circuit breakers.  And with the EFIS display circuit tripped there was no display from which I could effect a reset of the display circuit.

We rented a car and before we left the airport I was able to consult with the local A & P mechanic.  Victor was an affable, self-effacing man in his sixties.  He delivered his words slowly and with characteristic southern charm.  We discussed my theories on infiltrated moisture and of a malfunctioning voltage regulator.  His response was measured and noncommittal, "Could be, yeah could be.  It may very well be."  So we agreed to meet the next afternoon to work on it and in the meantime, I would try to figure out a way to reset the VPX circuit breakers without a display connected.

We left the airport to go to our hotel in nearby Johnson City.  I retrieved the VPX manual from the internet from our hotel room.  It seems that the only way to reset the circuit breakers without the EFIS display is to connect to the VPX via ethernet and use the setup software.  One problem, our laptop doesn't have an ethernet port and further, USB to ethernet adapters won't work with the VPX.  We would need to find a laptop that has one.  The next morning we found ourselves at Best Buy purchasing a new laptop where we learned that machines with ethernet ports are not the cheap ones.

Back out at the airport, I removed the access panels above the VPX and I used a hairdryer I borrowed from our hotel room to thoroughly dry the VPX and each of its five connectors.  Then, using our new laptop I reset the VPX controlled circuits.  I started the plane and the overvoltage condition and the popping alt field circuit were not fixed.  I moved the plane over to Victor's hangar and we spent the balance of the afternoon with various tests on the alternator and regulator charging circuitry.  We found no clear evidence of any specific problem but we decided to gamble on replacing the voltage regulator.

We had to wait for a day for the regulator to be shipped, so we spent the next day driving around Elizabethton and surrounding areas.  We stopped at a roadside Trump merchandise stand. I didn't buy anything, but I did chat with the owner for a time on the benefits of Tennessee life.  That's us at the center of the photo:

For dinner that night, we found a really fun restaurant in Johnson City called Wild Wing Cafe.  Good food and beer selection and the wait staff were attentive.

The next afternoon we were back at the airport to receive the new voltage regulator.  When Victor and I installed it, Shazam! It made no difference.  We were really starting to run out of ideas.  All afternoon we worked trying to find the elusive cause while rain from the approaching Hurricane Zeta fell outside.  I wasn't able to dry out that day as we kept having to push the plane out of the hangar to start it for each test.  At the end of the day, we still had no idea of what the issue was.  The forecast was for intensifying weather overnight so I was able to get my plane hangared that night.  As I taxied the plane over to the hangar in the pouring rain I began to wonder if Victor and I would ever figure this out.

That night Carol and I returned to Wild Wing Cafe expecting another great evening.  Unfortunately, they had live music going that was so loud we left after just one drink.  Yes, we were still hungry, but at least we could hear.

The next morning Victor and I were back at it until we finally ran the battery down with all of the engine starts.   That's when we discovered that my EarthX lithium battery would not recharge. Up to this point, we had no reason to think there was anything wrong with the battery since we tested the voltage many, many times and it continued to start the plane so many times without any difficulty.  Fortunately, Victor was able to find a replacement battery from someone on the field.  We replaced the battery and just like that, the overvoltage issued was fixed and the VPX wasn't tripping any of its circuit breakers.  Three days of work and it was just the battery.  In the end, Victor did not charge me nearly enough for his time and I was very thankful to have had him helping me.

As if mother nature somehow knew that our plane was fixed, the clouds over Elizabethton parted and we were on our way.  Not to Huntsville AL as I had originally planned, but nearly direct to my Sister's house in Hattiesburg MS.  Sadly, since we spent so much extra time in Tennessee we eliminated a planned visit to the Marshall Spaceflight Center. 

We departed mid-afternoon and picked our way between the clouds as we cross various mountain ridges.  The topography began to flatten as we made our way into Alabama.  We made a fuel stop in Gadsden AL (KGAD) where we were met with some unexpectedly high winds.  We ended our flying day with a night landing at Laurel Regional airport just outside of Hattiesburg MS.

We spent that night and the next day visiting with my sister, Jill, brother-in-law Rich and my niece Maren at their home near Hattiesburg.  We would have liked to stay longer, but we were starting to feel the effects of get-home-itis.  My niece Maren is now a freshman in high school. How did that happen?  She was just a baby yesterday.  And their new dog, Hobi:

We made our way back to Laurel Regional airport on a clear Saturday at mid-morning.  We departed to the west intending to go to Austin Texas.  We crossed the Mississippi River between Baton Rouge LS  and Natchez MS:

We stopped for fuel at Huntsville TX (KUTS) after two hours and 325 nautical easy miles.  It was early afternoon and we were having second thoughts about stopping in Austin.  Our desire to get home a day earlier outweighed our need to investigate Austin, so we inquired about a courtesy car at the FBO to get some lunch.  We got the car and a recommendation:  go to Farmhouse Cafe.  Stopping in Huntsville turned out to be a very lucky break because Farmhouse Cafe was awesome.  Some really good food in an unlikely strip mall location:

I borrowed the above picture from the internet as I forgot to take pictures there.  On returning from lunch we passed a Trump parade which was notable for its length, its honking horns, and its happy waving people.  It was clear that these folks were having a great time.  I don't know how long the parade actually was, but we drove a couple of miles beside and opposite its direction before turning off that highway.  The photo below doesn't even begin to capture the number of people involved.

We departed Huntsville with over-full stomachs headed towards Austin with a new plan to overfly the area to get an idea of the geography.  When we arrived just outside of the city we took a quick look and turned northwest towards Boise ID.  All afternoon we droned on across West Texas totaling more than 500 nautical miles on this leg.  About 6:30 PM we crossed the New Mexico border and decided to stop for fuel at Tucumcari (KTCC) and thus started one of the more interesting adventures of this trip.

I landed and taxied to the fuel island where we found a medivac chopper ahead of me.  They had a call and were in some obvious hurry, but were unable to get the fuel pump to work.  So they wanted me to go ahead and try my luck with the obstinate machine.  I didn't fare any better with my credit cards so I left in the direction of the restroom.  When I returned, the EMT was on the phone with the airport manager who was not on-site, and then he asked me if I wanted the manager to come out to fuel my plane.  The fee for coming out was going to be $30.  "No thanks, we're moving on."  The helicopter crew did eventually get the pump to work and I heard their radio calls departing not long after we did.

The sun had already set when we landed at Tucumcari and we were now flying towards Santa Rosa NM (KSXU) in the deep twilight.  Santa Rosa was 53 nautical miles west or about 20 to 25 minutes flying time.  I calculated that we would land there with 8 or 9 gallons which would be below my personal minimum fuel level of 10 gallons.  When the airport came into view I could see the big Xs that indicate a closed runway.  Crap.  I didn't check the NOTAMs (notice to airmen) that would have told me about the closed runway.  Luckily, there was another runway and we quickly landed there.

We taxied up to a parking area near some hangars and a mobile home.  There were no aircraft visible anywhere on the field, but I did see a group of 10 to 15  people standing around outside the trailer so I walked over to ask about fuel.  That a few were in costumes reminded me that it was Halloween and I had just interrupted their party by arriving by (loud) aircraft.   None of the guests knew anything about the aviation fuel situation, but they did offer me a beer.

I left the party without a beer only because I wasn't completely convinced that we were stuck. As I headed back towards the plane where Carol was waiting, I was considering our options when I noticed a figure in the dim light walking towards me. 

Her name was Lisa. She appeared to be in her fifties, slim with greying hair.  I inquired about fuel and she explained that the fuel pump was working, but there was no way to taxi the plane to it due to the airport construction, hence the NOTAM.  I had to admit that I didn't read the NOTAM until after we saw the closed runway and that I was low on fuel.  I hate to think what she must have thought of my flight planning skills, so it was very surprising to me when she offered 12 gallons of 100LL.  It seems that she plans ahead much better than I do as evidenced by the fact that she used her knowledge that the fuel pump would be inaccessible to fill two 6 gallon gas cans for her own use.

I walked with her back to her hangar where there were two Ercoupes one of which she owned.  We chatted about the planes for a bit, but as it was now full dark I really needed to get going.  I carried the two gas cans back to the plane and discovered that the gas can spouts were of the nearly unusable safety type that must be compressed to allow fuel to flow.  My experience with these spouts is that they tend to spill a lot a fuel because one must hold the spout compressed in one hand while the other holds the (heavy) can.  To ensure that no fuel flows the designers of this can did not allow for any venting, so the can must be removed every few seconds to refill with air.  Lisa arrived shortly after I started on the left tank and provided much-needed light with her pickup's headlights. 

Alas, I think I got most of 12 gallons into the plane.  Then Lisa and I left in her truck to drive around outside of the airport to another entrance where we could access the fuel pump.  I refilled her gas cans and then we returned to her hangar reversing the circuitous route.  I would have liked to spend more time talking airplanes with her, but it was now approaching 8:00 PM and I wanted to get going.  The smarter thing to do would have been to stay in Santa Rosa that night where we might have taken Lisa out for dinner to thank her and we could have learned all about Ercoupes.

There are no lights at KSXU, but that wouldn't be a problem if we didn't need to return to the airport.  Our new destination was Las Vegas NM (KLVS), about 50 nautical miles northwest.  We departed to the east on runway 8 with about 20 gallons of fuel in total.  Ahead, only the blackness of night was visible although looking to the right revealed a full moon.  When I turned left on course to Las Vegas, the moon slipped behind us, thus we had no visible reference to terra firma.  There were no lights on the desert floor and I couldn't make out lights from the city of Las Vegas.  All that could be seen through our canopy were the reflections of the lights from our instrument panel.

We cruised along at 8500' for most of the 20 minute flight without seeing anything at all, but I knew that behind Las Vegas lie some towering mountains.  Some as high as 13,000'.  When we drew close to the airport I could just see the lights of Las Vegas off in the distance to our left, but I still could not see the airport.  My anxiety level edged upwards as I began a slow descent to pattern altitude at 7900'.  At three miles out I keyed the mike 7 times to turn on the runway lights.  I could almost hear the poof sound as the whole airport lit up all at once, appearing out of the blackness just where it was supposed to be.

We landed on the illuminated runway with a satisfying chirp and then headed for the fuel island passing patches of snow along the way.  I soon discovered that my tee shirt was utterly ineffective cold weather apparel while fueling our aircraft on the windswept ramp at 6900' elevation.  Carol arranged transportation to our hotel while I unloaded, tied down, and fished out my hoody.  By the time we checked in to our hotel all of the nearby restaurants were closed and we narrowly escaped starvation, but for a Domino's pizza delivery.

The next day I was eager to get underway and we did, at the crack of mid-morning.  I suspect that get-home-itis propelled us to our earliest departure of the trip at 9:30 AM.  Or it might have been the end of daylight savings time.  Either way, I was happy to be in the air again making westerly progress.  We skirted the northern slopes of the Pecos Wilderness area at 10,500', electing not to fly a more direct route that would have required a climb to 14,000 feet.  Once we were clear of the high mountains we headed directly to Delta UT (KDTA) on a course that would take us over Durango and then bisect the Canyonlands:

one last selfie:

The confluence of the Green and Colorado rivers caught my attention on our moving map so I was ready with the camera when we zoomed by.  Surprisingly, the Green River is actually the greener of the two.

I was looking forward to ending the flying day early at our destination of Nampa ID, but first we had just one more stop to make.  I had selected Delta UT because of its relatively low-cost fuel.  The airport was visible at a considerable distance on the flat desert floor.  We made our landing on 35 and then faced a rather long taxi back to the fuel island.  After fueling I went into the terminal building.  When Carol and I returned to the plane ready to depart, I noticed that our right main tire was flat.  Sigh.  

I retrieved my tools from the plane and removed the wheel pant.  I had a spare tube somewhere, but there was another problem or two problems actually.  I didn't have a jack and I didn't have any way to inflate the tire when I got it off of the plane.  Carol and I were alone at the airport save one older gentleman who was working on his aircraft.  Unfortunately, he didn't have an air pump or a jack, but he did help me out later.  I went back into the terminal building where I remembered seeing a handwritten sign that said if you need help call this number.  I'll admit that on my first pass through the terminal I thought the sign was a bit comical in its vagueness.  "Help with what, exactly?", I thought.  

Well, this time I actually did need help, so I called the number.  A man answered and I explained where I was and what the nature of my issue was.  Then I asked who am I calling?  He explained that there are volunteers who answer this number to assist hapless travelers such as myself.  Then he offered his first bit of valuable advice over the phone:  "Use the jack in the courtesy car".  He said he could be out at the airport in half an hour.

I collected the jack from the Crown Vic parked next to the terminal building.   It was a scissor jack that wouldn't be nearly tall enough to reach from the jacking point under the wing to the ground.  The older gentleman and I began scouring the area looking for anything we could use as a platform to boost the height of the jack above the asphalt enough to reach the underside of the wing.  We swept the desert beyond the ramp on both sides looking for anything:  discarded cinder blocks, wood scraps, rocks... anything at all.  After twenty minutes I came up with only a few scraps of wood.  Luckily, the old guy found two discarded five gallon paint buckets.  I was dubious, but it was worth a try, so I nested the two buckets and placed them under the jack point upside down.  A small piece of plywood reinforced the bucket bottom.  I placed the jack between the plywood and the jacking point and it was now tall enough to lift the flat tire off of the ground.

By the time I was finished jacking the plane up, the helpline guy arrived in his pickup.  He had many more tools than I carried and was a big help.  He disassembled the tire on his tailgate while I rummaged through our luggage to find the baby powder and the spare inner tube.  When the tire was ready, the helpline guy had a key to a hangar with an air compressor.  We're saved!  With the tire inflated, I reassembled the brake and wheel pant and let the plane off of the jack.   All that remained were the thank-yous and to clean up my greasy hands.  I offered to pay the helpline guy for his time and effort and especially considering it was a Sunday afternoon.  He graciously declined and what makes it even worse is that the good Samaritans will have to remain nameless.  I am embarrassed to admit that in all the excitement I forgot their names, but I will never forget what they did for us.  

We departed Delta and headed north towards Salt Lake City happy that the flat tire misadventure had only cost us two hours.  It could have been much worse.  We flew along the eastern edge of the restricted airspace that lies to the west of Salt Lake City until we could turn west and head toward Wendover.  I've always wanted to visit Wendover due to its historical significance in WWII.  However, today would not be the day.  Instead, just beyond Wendover, we turned northward again toward Nampa ID.   As the sun was setting we were just passing Mountain Home ID and we were happy that this extended road trip by air was nearing an end.  In a few minutes, we would be approaching from the south, the same city that we departed nearly three weeks ago to the north.

And so we landed in Nampa and we were soon reunited with my mother and our dog Trina.  I'm not sure which missed us more, for different reasons.  That night we ate a nice dinner out and related our adventures to my mother and the next morning we departed Nampa for our final leg home to Grass Valley (KGOO).  And after 2 hours and 20 minutes of fighting a ferocious headwind we were home.

On this adventure, we covered 5200 nautical miles (6000 statute miles) with about 36 hours in the air.  We learned that Northern Idaho and Montana are definitely too cold for us, that Mississippi and Texas are probably too hot, and that Tennessee looks mighty tempting.

Now that our road trip is complete, we can reflect on and thank the many people who helped us along the way.  My mother the dog babysitter, Opie the restaurant reviewer, Our California ex-pat friends in Tennessee: Robin, Jeanne, Mike, and Jennifer, Victor the aircraft mechanic, my sister and her family, Lisa the good Samaritan with aviation fuel, and the flat tire repair crew:  helpline guy and the older gentleman.  And many more that didn't get included because I didn't want reading this blog to take longer than the actual trip.