A Little Cross Country

Finally got a chance to fly across the country in a small airplane.

Picked up a brand-new Diamond DA20 Eclipse from the factory in London, Ontario, which is about sixty miles inside the Canadian border near Detroit, MI.

It was all pretty spontaneous, asking my boss on Wednesday if I could do the delivery, flying out to London on Thursday, and starting the return flight early Friday morning.

DA20 Cross Country

While at the London Airport, at the Diamond Delivery Center, I saw a woman and her daughter hanging on the airport fence, looking longingly at a departing B737, where obviously a beloved family member was leaving. Took some photos, sent them to her. I'd forgotten how significant the impact of separation can be on families. It was a good reminder that for some of us flying is not the wonderful thing I think it is, but is something that can bring pain.

Got around the bottom of Lake Michigan, into Kankakee, IL, without incident. Scud running is the term for working your way under a cloud layer, trying to find clear sky. Had weather reports of severe clear 40 miles ahead, which turned out to be true. Spent the rest of that day dropping in to various small airports, refueling, refreshing, and heading out to the Pacific Northwest.

Stayed over in Rapid City, SD, near the badlands, then headed out the next day over the desert, through the mountain passes, back over the next desert, and finally to arrive at Boeing Field early Saturday evening.

It was about eight years ago when my friend Mark encouraged me to get back into flying. I'd taken lessons many years earlier. He is my aviation mentor, and so you can understand how interesting and meaningful it was to me to be handed off by the Seattle Center controller to the Boeing Field tower, only to hear the tower clear me for landing behind a Cessna 180, whose tail number and pilot I recognized as Mark. What're the odds that I'll fly two thousand miles across the majority of the country, only to wind up in the traffic pattern behind my good friend and mentor?

Anyway, 18.9 flight hours into the logbook, and some great stories. Wish the photographs were good, but I was kinda busy. One of the outstanding images is the Anaconda Copper Mine at Butte Montana, where the water color was so turquoise that you could taste it.

Would do that trip any time.

There's NOTHING about Orlando.....

There's nothing about Orlando that I like, with the possible exception of the ride where you can fly in the blast of a propellor, and practise your skydiving technique. And this time here I didn't take advantage of it.

Orlando is the living manifestation of the results of the American Dream. It's good, I suppose, for many. There's happy families, no doubt about it. There's moms dragging little kids up and down the streets, and there's kids with smiles on their faces.

But Lord, help us, everybody's fat. Everybody's fat. Did I mention that we're all fat? There's not one person who meets the ideal of fitness. At least, not that I saw.

And excess? Take the hotel I stayed at, for instance. Spanish Colonial is the style. Maybe 1500 rooms. Maybe a few hundred manicured acres. Thousands of happy conventioneers milling around. Bazillions of dollars changing hands it feels like.

And not a thought to the amount of conspicuous consumption going on. What a relief I'll feel to get on the plane and be done with Orlando.

Nice place, wouldn't wanna live there.

Ahh Port Orchard

Been a long time since the last posting. Not for lack of things to say, as anybody who is vaguely acquainted with me will be only too glad to tell you.

No, it's because I've been so busy enjoying my new home.

I've discovered the joys of gardening, and playing the odds. The odds being, if I buy and plant ten growing things, there's at least some chance that by the end of the summer something will be growing and thriving.

The operating theory has been to pay no particular attention to the design of the garden, the placement of each bulb or plant, annual or perrenial. That is, no attention has been paid with ONE notable exception.

It is, of course, a story.

Many years ago, my wife and our children and I lived in a waterfront home in Woodlands, BC. at the middle of Indian Arm. Faced east, beautiful sunrises and daylight sunshine, evening shade. We had a glorious rose bush out on the front of the lawn, facing the beach and the water. And, living down the beach was the chief horticulturist for the Stanley Park Rose Garden, a world renowned facility. One day he strolled up and asked me for a cutting, because the rose impressed him with it's late season flowering and beauty.

A year later, I asked him about it. He said it was nice, but not superb, and I finally figured out why. It wasn't the genetics, it was the environment, getting reflected light off the water, particularly in the fall with the sun being low on the horizon.

So, I've planted a Lincoln rose out on the tiniest point that sticks out in the channel, which gets the maximum amount of light, sunrise to sunset. And, playing the odds, it was the single profuse ly sprouting cutting of the five I'd planted. Three failed to sprout at all, and the other struggles to survive. But really, all I care about is the Lincoln rose.

So now I have a bistro table and two chairs sitting out on the point, with a beautiful rose bush and a view to die for of Mt. Rainier across the island. Missing only the beautiful woman, whom I've actually met, just need to become friends. Met her across a volleyball net last weekend. We'd actually met online, had decided that we'd like to meet in person, and with no previous knowledge that we'd both be at the volleyball game, I recognized her from her photo and said hello.

So, Friday we dine together. And perhaps some day in the future, morning coffee on the point with roses on the table from the Lincoln cutting.

Magic Hangars

So there I was, sitting in the office, looking up at the sky and thinking, "Geez, it would be great if....." when all of a sudden along came a pilot and the next thing I knew I was in a Diamond Twin Star flying over to Spokane on an instrument flight plan, me in the left seat as if I knew what I was doing.....


And in fact I did. I've been blessed with a significant amount of Twin Star simulator time at the company I work for, coming in very early in the morning to figure out just how to fly it according to the book. So, when I got it airborne and climbing, headed roughly in the right direction, I got a chance to ask the PIC (pilot in command) to help me work my way through all the decision making for the flight.

So off we went, he not concerned at all, as he'd been a freight dog, flying equipment far less capable than the Twin Star, and I not concerned too much either, though I wanted to stay well ahead of the airplane mentally, which is the primary task for an instrument pilot.

Shot the approach into the airport, Felts Field, which is not the current Spokane International airport, but was once, in the heyday of aviation before and during the Second World War.

Now, the purpose of the trip was for the PIC to show the airplane to a prospective customer, and I'd agreed to hang out in the cafe which every airport has, waiting until the demonstration flight was over. But, the airplane's so beautiful that the moment you land and taxi to a stop, pilots come out of the woodwork and saunter across the ramp for a chat. Since that's the whole purpose of the exercise, we were soon engaged with answering the questions......"is that the diesel version...?" (Yes), "what's the fuel burn..?" (Nine gallons per hour, total) etc.

So, the prospect showed up, they went flying, and there I was, sitting on a bench at the Art Deco airport, chatting with a young man from the FAA who seemed to have some time on his hands, when along came one of those pilots we'd been talking to who asked "do you guys have a half hour, I've got something to show you....?" and we jumped in his car, drove around the back side of the runway, to a magic hangar.

Why magic, I hope you might be asking....?

Well, because inside this hangar was what every pilot would give his left.........overs for, the only existing example of a Boeing Model 40 biplane open cockpit mail plane. It will be, when it's finished, the oldest Boeing aircraft flying.


Built some time before the start of the Second World War, in the late 1930's, it crashed three months afterward, and sat on a mountainside in ruins until this family purchased it and began the long restoration. It's obvious that it's a labor of love, and equally obvious that vast quantities of cash have been required to get to where it is at this moment.

The pictures will tell the story.

But, when we were done in that hangar, the grandson of the founder of the family aviation addiction showed us the next hangar over, and sure enough, there were two more biplanes, one a greatly modified Stearman in navy colors, and the other another mail plane whose manufacturer I don't recall. These were to die for.

On the flight home, I sat there monitoring computers onscreen, with a purple line showing me just where I was, and where I was to go. Descending through the clouds, where there's danger from ice building up on the wings, I pushed a button and de-icing fluid started weeping backwards from the leading edges, eliminating the dangerous buildup.

Now, I don't know how the mail plane actually crashed, but I can tell you that pilots flying in the Cascade mountains died in droves because of icing and being lost, and it was the mail pilots in particular who paid the price, one at least in that very airplane.

So, I said a little prayer of thanks, that I was able to fly, that I was able to fly such a magnificent machine as the Twin Star, and that I was able to see the Boeing 40 come back to fly some day with another pilot, maybe even me....

As a friend says at the end of every e-mail......

Lift!

Spring, Dammit!

I should be so lucky as to have made it this far through this unspeakable winter.

All I want now is to have a few days in the sun. Is that too much to ask? Apparently so.

Working harder than ever before, and having more fun with it. The company I work for is undergoing lots of changes, some of which are so exciting that I wish I could shout them out to the rooftops. Actually, I will, just as soon as there's a bit more certainty in the changes.

As for me, well, the weight I've gained precludes me from flying Cessna 150's, but that's ok, I'm kind of a Diamond guy now anyway. Have been having a blast with my instrument rating, and have been, true to form, ducking the written test, always coming up with some excuse or other. But, it'll happen, and happen it must, soon.

Some great fun has been had with the new car, and I am dreaming of those spring days with the top down. In the meantime, sliding back and forth to work on the motorcycle and waiting, waiting, waiting.....

Photography has been a bunch of fun. Here's some random shots....

Nothing Like A Sports Car To Keep A Guy Happy

And broke, of course.

It's been a long winter of vehicle issues. First, the motorcycle, then the van, then the motorcycle, then the van, etc.. Seemed like the trendline was continuously negative. So often I found myself wasting a weekend with wrenches in my hands and grease everywhere else.

Well, it wasn't wasted. Let's be honest here, I had a ton of fun. But, spring's just around the corner, and I wanted a toy I guess. So, last Saturday I decided to take the bike and head over to an auto dealer who had been advertising a car that looked like I might like it.

One thing leading to another, we wrote the deal, and now I am the proud borrower of a 1998 BMW Z3 sports car. Teal green, or hunter green, I'm not sure. It's not British Racing Green, I can be sure of that, because it's German, and in any case I saw an MGB on the ferry last week which WAS British Racing Green, and mine's much darker.

Tan leather interior, all in good shape. Big six cylinder engine, five speed manual transmission, low and fat tires, great stereo system, analog gauges for an old-timer like me (got lots of fancy computer screens in the airplanes, so don't need more in the car...).

I am FULLY engaged in my late-middle-age crisis, and loving every bit of it. The roads around here are ideal for sports cars. They're basically in good shape, but twist and wind around obstacles instead of bulldozing through them. Lots of hills, lots of valleys, lots of curves, nothing in the way of traffic, no traffic lights, not too many stop signs, no pedestrians, a few motorcycles and bicycles, and best of all, not a police officer in sight. But I DID budget for that first, very expensive, speeding ticket. Just hope it doesn't happen for a little while.

So, the morning commute is basically an exercise in precision high-speed driving, at least as far as the ferry lineup. Then it's sit and wait of course, but it's worth it.

Now, I'm going to go looking for a used WaveRunner, and that way I'll be able to commute across the pond without the intermediate step of a car or a motorcycle. I figure I'll be able to drop it in the drink in front of the house off a winch, and then run it right up the Duwamish River next to Boeing Field, then just use a motorcycle or bicycle that I leave at the marina to go the last mile or two to work. That's the plan, we'll see what happens.

Then, some time, a Cessna 140 to be left at the grass strip airport near the house here. That way it'll be a sports car ride to the airport, a quick flight, tie it down right outside my office door, and walk in to work.

Life, at the moment, is a bunch of fun.

Be well, look forward to spring, live it like you want to.

Godspeed USS John C. Stennis

One of the most amazing things happened today. An aircraft carrier put out to sea, and she sailed right past my front door. If you click on the photograph below, you'll see the photos I took of this amazing ship.

Now, whether my politics are in support of, or contrary to, the war in Iraq, I am still impressed by the awesome size and power of a nuclear aircraft carrier passing an hundred yards in front of my house. And I wish safety and blessings and wisdom on her crew, for their sensible conduct and safe return.

A few days earlier, a nuclear attack submarine slipped out to sea. I have to presume that she is part of the carrier battle group, provisioned and ready, heading out to check the approaches for hostile intentions from other ships and navies.

Standing on the beach, watching the bow of the Stennis coming around the point was amazing. Bow, more bow, still more bow, and finally a bridge, followed by yet more ship. You got this frightening feeling that here in front of you was 3500 people heading into harm's way, two functioning nuclear reactors, God knows how many missiles, bombs, and millions of gallons of JetA, as well as any other nuclear weapons they might have on board. Pretty scary stuff. Hope it works, but I'm struck by wondering whether this is the right weapon for the situation at hand.

Ah well, these things are beyond my ability to make sense of them. In any case, God speed you all, and a safe return to your families and loved ones.

And a prayer for the families of those who will be harmed by you.

God Bless The Neighbors

Mid January here, and snowed in.

Well, not quite anymore, but surely it's been a very interesting few weeks. You'd think after the windstorm a month ago that whom/whatever's in charge would say something like "OK, well, I've trashed Seattle, let's move on to.... (fricking near anywhere else would do....)" but instead, in an amazing display of bad humor, the skies opened again, and this time it was just snow.

I, being a pilot, should likely be paying attention to the weather. On the other hand, I haven't flown in months, because I'm busting the bank, and because I'm studying in a simulator, not the real airplane, but that's another story in any case.

In any case, this time it was snow. And I, not paying attention to the weather, happened to choose that particular evening to drive down the I-5 to Tacoma, and then over the Narrows Bridge (successor to Galloping Gertie) through Gig Harbor to Port Orchard, and home. It was a test. Would the van work? Would I get stuck in rush-hour traffic? Would the drive around the bottom take less time than waiting in a ferry lineup? How much gas would I burn? I was basically exploring my options other than the ferry.

And of course, the moment I got on to the Narrows Bridge, it started to snow. And snow harder. And harder. So that, a few minutes later, I was thinking "well you old fat fool, you've gone and put yourself into a 'skid off the fricking road and spend the night in a ditch...' kind of situation'. Except that, through sheer good fortune, and having had thirty five years of driving in snow experience, I was able to weasel my way home, creeping up the last big hill over the ridge and down the road through the forest to my wonderful little waterfront shack.

And even the next morning, I got lucky....got out in the fresh new-fallen snow, and headed in to work. So, coming home that night my mind wasn't really on the last hill, until I saw all the neighbors abandoned cars littering the main road.

Of course, being Canadian, I had to give the hill at least the old bar-room try. Fortunately didn't get my ass stuck, or slam into the pickup truck on the side, but I did have to get out and push the van sideways so I wouldn't slam into him. It was easy however.

Hiked up the hill, over the ridge, down through the forest, along the waterfront, and made it home. There's a certain charm to hiking through a pitch-dark forest on a winter night with a flashlight battery running down. You try not to whistle, try not to imagine the ghosts and goblins or axe murderers leaping out at you, let alone the wolves and demons. But, you do.

Fortunately the weekend arrived, so no need to go to work. And, Saturday morning, the neighbor two doors down stopped by, said he'd seen my van, could he help, and we got into his truck, fetched the van, got it back to the carport, and started in on the transmission shifter repair.

Oh, I hadn't mentioned that? Well, first snow morning when I moved the shift lever, something went SNAP. "OK, God, I know it's a test, but why me, why now, ....."

Need to keep in perspective that it's a TINY test relative to most other people, so, I'll get it fixed somehow.

But the closest neighbor came over, figured out what was wrong, and together we dismantled it. So, for the moment, I'm shifting by pulling a cable under the dash. Primitive, but it works.

Hate bank loans, but suppose it's time to go make car payments again.

Ah well.

Life's good.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to all, and I hope you have a wonderful new year too.

I've been blessed this year, with friends, a new home, a job that holds great prospects. So, I'm thankful tonight. I wish I were spending the evening with my children, but that's not in the cards. Maybe next year.

Thanksgiving weekend the motorcycle decided to quit. Five full working days, a bunch of time on EBay, and a whole new relationship with my neighbor, and I had it back working. Sort of

The windstorm that took out power for one million people in Seattle got my house too, and it was five days before it was back. But, fortunately, I'd purchased a generator years ago, and when I moved here I asked my friend Mark to bring it back from his summer home where it's been resting for the past few years. So, it made it to Ballard on Wednesday. I didn't pick it up then, and really hadn't been paying attention to the weather forecasts, so Thursday lost power, and Friday, trying to pick it up in the van, was the day the van decided to quit working.

Not to be denied, I took the now functioning motorcycle and loaded the generator on it, and survived the next three days in better form than a whole ton of other less fortunate persons. But, no shower, so I did stay with my friend Rob, and I owe him a vote of thanks for that.

Got the van towed back to the house, since it’s not worth paying a shop to fix it, and besides, I need to know about auto mechanics before I die…..served a firelight dinner to my friend Thom and his wife Mona who helped tow it back, then got up the next morning at 4:00 am and rode the bike across the mountains to Port Angeles, caught the 8:00 ferry and spent the day with my beautiful daughter Jillian on her 18^th birthday. We had lunch in a restaurant that used to be a hangout of mine when I lived in Victoria many years ago, then I toured the University which she attends, then caught the ferry back to Port Angeles for another night-time winter motorcycle ride back to a freezing cold home……

Got some fairly nice photographs of Victoria. And some of my daughter.

Anyway, life’s an adventure, and the past six weeks have just been one of those things, stuff breaking down, getting fixed, and moving on. Glad to be alive, can’t wait to see what 2007 has in store.

Regards,

Jeremy

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Well, I started to write a post about Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance this morning, on my laptop. It was even fairly cleverly written, but being done directly on the Blogger screen. So, when this flaming piece of shyte from Microsoft crashed again, for the n’th time in the past week, I was pretty pissed off.

But, of course, the whole item was about the lessons being taught by machines. Apparently I’m in dire need of a lot of lessons these days, as life is full of machines malfunctioning, and personal relationships from the past that I’d love to repair that seem beyond salvage.

Speaking of salvage, I’ve got a 1978 Honda Goldwing that up until a few months ago I loved with all my heart. Now I look at it with wry affection.

Robert Pirsig wrote Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in the sixties I believe. It achieved the same certain sort of success that the Motorcycle Diaries movie did recently. It wasn’t at all about motorcycles, but that was the framework of his book.

One of my brothers is a journalist, and he’d interviewed Pirsig. I’d read the book, and thirty years later the only thing I can remember is that he was working on a BMW, and the front forks needed a shim. You could buy it from BMW for high cost. It was aluminum, of a certain thickness. I think it had a knurled top on it. Or, you could carrot-top a beer can and, as it happened, that was precisely the same materials and dimensions as the BMW part.

Form over function, or function over form? Which part would YOU choose.

Now obviously, if I’m riding a thirty year old bike, it’s possible that I’m just an afficianado, or it’s more likely that I ride it because that’s what I can afford.

So, when my daily commute goes awry because the bike malfunctions, I’ve been faced with some decisions. Put the freaking thing away in the bottom of Puget Sound, maybe by pushing it off a ferry late some night? Or, get down into the guts of the thing and figure it out.

That's all well and good, but have you ever been in a carport down on your knees with wrenches while it's a howling blizzard? I moved my old woodstove out there for psychological support, because it surely doesn't contribute any heat, but at least the snow's not on my head....

More to come, gotta run

Happiest Fireside

Finally, a home to love.

This fine chilly October evening I'm sitting by the fire in my beach shack; ok, it's not mine, but it's mine to use and live in.....

Waterfront. I lived there once, many years ago, when my children were young. And, so was I, for that matter.

And now, again, the same place, but different. This time, Port Orchard Washington, instead of North Vancouver British Columbia. But, there's the same knotty pine interior, a front porch with a fabulous view, a never-ending marine scene, in this case the US Navy, including aircraft carriers, and the Coast Guard, moving right past the front door, and my spiritual totem, a Great Blue Heron, the eminence grise of my former life.

And here's me, alone, but happy. Motorcycle in carport, van in carport, tools in toolshop, photo studio about to be set up in the spare bedroom, and wireless access on my laptop courtesy of my Blackberry.

And the kayak's out on the brick side patio waiting for spring, and the boat plans are posted on the shop wall.

No nosy neighbors, no fire engines, no traffic, a dead end lane, and I LOVE IT!!!!!!

More, much more, to come.

Decisions, Decisions

The best memories are the ones you can't refresh by looking at a photograph. I'm sorry to say that that's true.

Sorry, because last night I was able to create a fresh new memory that I'd swear is going to last a long time.

It's of course an aviation memory.

Unexpectedly, a customer needed to get down to Bend, OR, and he chartered an aircraft from us. That aircraft, a Beechcraft Bonanza, has a large enough passenger load that the charter pilot, who also happens to be my instrument instructor, asked me along, so that I could get some instruction in the real world of IFR on the way home.

So, I sat in the rear on the trip down, while the customer flew and my instructor helped him, as he too had never flown that particular type, though he has many hours in similar aircraft.

The trip down was delightful, and uneventful. We stopped off for a sugar fix at the FBO, filed a return flight plan, and took off.

This was my first Bonanza flight, and sitting left seat I'd spent about fifteen minutes making myself familiar with the panel. I've spent a lot of time in a simulator with this instructor, and it is, though not identical, a similar layout, with similar equipment. I was actually perhaps a bit more current with the GPS, but I think that's just my vanity talking.

Anyway, to the memory. All flights are wonderful, but this one in particular was great. We climbed to 11,000', then asked for VFR on top at 11,500'. Below us was a perfect white cloud layer, about 9000' Heading north to the Olympia VOR, I had the great pleasure of being faced with two choices.

To my left, the Pacific Ocean, with a brilliant red sun setting behind the cloud layer. And to my right, a perfect full moon rising behind Mount Rainier. At one moment the moon was perched perfectly right on top the mountain, like a shining white ball balanced on the tip.

And my cameras? Left behind for weight and balance considerations for the trip south.....

Ah well, the images are burned on my mental flash drive.....

Changes in Latitudes

It was all to do with a motorcycle ride.

I needed to get it fixed, and one of the guys I'm lucky to have as a resource lives on the Peninsula. I of course slept in late the morning I was supposed to have gotten my butt over to his house, and, arriving at the ferry just as it was leaving the dock, and failing to have his phone number I really had blown it. He really had set aside a limited amount of time, and I'd not shown up during that window...

However, I asked him to recommend a good ride, and the net result was that I found a great little house that I'm going to move into.

Now, my good friend Mark has advised me that I'd be best to discipline myself, and not choose the house.

Thanks Mark, I tried to listen, really, I did....

Instead, I'm moving in a few weeks, and am excited as hell. In order to make the move, I've got to generate more income, and that's going to take a lot of my time. But, I've started, and some of the photographs I've been taking recently may hold the key to it. In any case, here's some photos of the house, and the view, and in the winter I'll be spending a lot of time getting the workshop ready, and getting the kayak ready to push off the front lawn and into the drink.

I'll be back in touch.

Righty Then, Take Out The Camera Jeremy

So, it turns out that the motorcycle trip was not at ALL what I'd planned. What a surprise....

In any case, in some ways it was even better, but the damndest thing happened. My impatience got the better of me, and I didn't stop at all to take photos, even though I had the camera in a wonderful little backpack in the luggage carrier.

You see, I was either riding the bike, enjoying the scenery rushing past at near-light speed, or I was flying a kite, or wandering down the beach with a kite in my hand, or sitting at a restaurant, or setting up my tent, or doing my laundry, or......

So, the only photos I got were of the tall ships at Westport. Here.

And, later, after returning to Seattle, some delightful photos of fine young ladies playing volleyball on Labor Day.

The story? Well, it all starts in a fog really...

Volleyball Labor Day

It's a hard thing to resist, photographing beautiful young girls. Sorry, know it's not appropriate to say that in some circles, but there you have it.

Here's a group of people who were playing at Golden Gardens one Labor Day, and whom I finally contacted through one of the players when I met him at Alki another day. He's not stupid...

Off Motorcycling

Going to be doing a bit of a ride in the next few days/week or so. Have decided that, given my incident of last weekend, and given that I'd already booked next week off, I'm going to jump on the old Goldwing and head down the Oregon coast.

I think I'm going to pack a tent, some camping gear, a few nice cameras, and maybe this laptop, plus a full selection of Prism kites, and then head for the beaches. Top that off with some suntan lotion, a few pairs of shorts and a bathing suit, and I think I'll be set for the week.

Will probably do a loop, heading inland in Southern Oregon and then coming up the two states inside the mountains, in the high desert country. That will give me an opportunity to stop off in the Horse Heaven Hills and photograph the Mustang II, talk to the farmer who might deliver it over to Seattle for me, and do some measuring and analysis.

Can't wait, and will try to make some postings enroute.

It Had To Happen Some Day

Well, it finally happened. I bent some aluminum.

As always, with any accident/incident, there's a number of causes. Fortunately, it did NOT happen in the air, nor did it happen with an engine running, or the aircraft moving. It happened when my foot slipped, and I slammed to the ground while mounting/dismounting an aircraft on display at the Museum of Flight.

It was last Saturday, and I'd been there all day, working at the Aerobatics day. Getting off the right wing of the Zlin 242 I slipped, and slammed down full body weight on the right flap, tin canning it immediately.

Our sheet metal guys tell me that it's not damage that can't be repaired. And, there's some issues with re-rigging the flap, so on balance I got off pretty lucky. And of course, there's insurance, so I won't, fortunately, have to write a massive check. But I'm still mortified, and have replayed the incident over and over and over again in my mind.

Wish I could say that it hadn't happened, but it did, and that's that. And thank you to all the people who immediately asked me how I was, whether I'd been hurt myself. No, just my pride.

In The Pits

What a weekend, starting with hanging out with the Blue Angels for a morning breakfast Friday,
through working in our company booth, taking part in a flyby, and watching the hydroplane races and air shows from the top of the control tower, a place so secure you have to have about seventeen different levels of pass, plus a degree of chutzpah, just to get to.

I'm going to let the photos speak for themselves, as writing about this is not nearly as good as just seeing what it was.

Suffice to say that I'm not really happy with my photo skills, but some of them came out well, so that's progress.

Speaking of Angels

Thanks to Karen Santa of Windermere Real Estate for arranging a pit pass for me Sunday at the hydroplane races. She's a sponsor of a boat, and graciously allowed me to do some photography that I otherwise would not have been able to get. And, in return, I took these photos of her.

The Deep Blue Sky, Full Of Angels

OK, they're here, at Boeing Field, for the next four days. The US Navy Blue Angels, and what can be more exciting to a pilot than to be able to watch those guys from close up.