One beautiful week of flying
Autumn adventures in a Piper Arrow
The month of October is probably my favorite time of the year to fly.
The heat and bumpy turbulence of summer have dissipated, the ice of winter is yet to arrive, and the violence of spring storms is both a distant memory and a worry more suited for the future. Late September to mid-November, though, often offer clear skies so blue that it hurts the eyes to look up, and yet compels one to do so. October is the sweet spot, with comfortable temperatures, reasonable cruise winds, and depending on where you live, the scenery of leaves changing with such vivid colors that they almost look to be on fire.
Steve and I have known each other since we were in middle school, and he has lived vicariously through me and my flying adventures. Much of my time building as a private pilot included trips we took together, trips with no purpose other than to put time in my logbook. We can spend hours together not saying a word, yet walk away completely fulfilled. Add an airplane to the mix, and it gets even better. We are to each other a ”brother from another mother,“ and living apart has never been easy. When I was considering an aircraft purchase, a major part of the motivation was the possibility of seeing Steve and his family more.
When this particular weekend was put on the calendar, we began discussing certain possibilities. Neither of us had been to the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York, which is an Arrow’s hour north of Selinsgrove. Other possibilities were the Mid Atlantic Air Museum in Reading, Pennsylvania, and the Piper Museum in Lock Haven. As baseball fanatics, the HOF was top of mind, and we penciled that in for Saturday.
Lisa and I had flown in to Penn Valley Airport in Selinsgrove on Thursday night, and because Steve was off work on Friday, we had an unexpected free day. Our original idea was to go to Reading, but the museum is closed on Fridays (which I still don’t understand). We opted instead to go to visit Steve’s folks in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, a three-hour drive but an hour in the Arrow. Like our flight to Penn Valley, the sky was clear, the ride was smooth, and the views of the western Pennsylvania mountain ranges were enhanced by the changing of the leaves. We stayed for lunch and a bull session, then flew back to Selinsgrove.
On Saturday, we were up early, Christmas-morning-excited. Again, the weather was going to be perfect, save some valley fog in the morning. We saddled up and were airborne by 9 a.m., the good folks at Penn Valley Airport having fueled us up before we arrived at the airport to fly. I picked up my IFR clearance in the air and climbed to 5,000 feet. As we flew north, the colors got more intense and brighter, while also adding a sharp contrast to the folds and bends in the hills and valleys of the mountains. The distance between us and the terrain steadily shrank as the ground seemed to be trying to reach up to us. We were in and out of a couple of thin layers of clouds, and I opted for the area navigation approach to the north. Below the clouds, the winds and turbulence picked up. Albert S. Nader Regional Airport in Oneonta, New York, is situated on a hill, surrounded by trees on all sides. The automated surface observing system was calling for pretty gusty winds, and our final approach had enough of a crab in it that I was looking out the passenger window to see the runway. After many bumps and wobbles and countless control inputs, I settled on to the runway in a pretty impressive (if I may say so myself) crosswind landing.
The FBO was unattended, so we parked in a remote area to stay out of the way. Fortunately, navigating inside was pretty easy, and the rental car I had arranged through Enterprise had been dropped off the day before. Kudos to those folks for coming through the way they did! The drive to the museum was picturesque and idyllic, and downtown Cooperstown is about as Mayberry-like a place as you will ever find. Granted, it’s because of the HOF, but it’s a neat little town, and it begs a return with our wives in the spring or summer just to walk the streets and eat ice cream.
The HOF was everything we had hoped it would be: lots of history, great stories, little nuggets of fun information. If you’re a baseball fan, even a casual one, this is a must-do trip.
We flew back in time to meet up with the ladies’ group for dinner at a local winery. The next morning, the ladies returned from their cabin, and we got our ride to the airport. Lisa and I flew home, and we had to sacrifice speed for comfort. The rides at the lower altitudes were constant light to occasional moderate turbulence, so I climbed up to 8,500 with flight following—and a 30- to 40-knot wind right on the nose. But at least it was smooth. The trip home took three hours and 18 minutes versus the 2 hours and 23 minutes it took to go the other way.
After a night in our own bed, we headed out early again on Monday morning back to the hangar. The second part of my time off was for us, and this time we pointed south.
If there was a “bad” weather day, this was it. There was a low overcast that was several thousand feet thick, but when we punched through on top, it was as if a white blanket was laid out for us. The ride was living-room smooth, and the clouds broke up slowly over a span of a hundred miles or so. With a quick stop at Tuscaloosa National Airport in Alabama (FBO shoutout to Bama Dixie Air Services, where the staff was quick, attentive, friendly, and let me eat all the cookies I could carry), we pressed on to New Orleans, where we landed at Lakefront Airport for a three-night stay in the Big Easy. Most of our time was spent at the National WWII Museum, which is one of the best museums in the country. I’d been there several times while on airline layovers, but I had never had a chance to see it all. This time, the mission was accomplished as we walked through every exhibit over a two-day period. In between, we found some great Cajun food, live music, and plenty of reasons to justify another trip or three.
Thursday was another early start, with a three-hour trek north to Murfreesboro Municipal Airport in Tennessee (another FBO shoutout to a place that was buzzing with so much activity it almost felt like Sun ‘n Fun). After an amazingly quick turn, we were on the last leg home, a leisurely VFR flight back to southern Ohio.
At some point, I had totaled up the hours I’d flown. When we shut down, it was 21 hours and change over a seven-day period. Looking at the airplane as I rolled it back into the hangar confirmed it. The wings had several bug splotches, and there were some streaks of dirt that hadn’t been there when we left. It was almost like seeing a sweaty-but-satisfied-at-a-job-well-done person after completing an honest day of work. The nose sits a bit high, almost like a show of pride, a feeling I can’t help but share. The more this airplane does for us, the more we seem to love it, and the more it shows us what it can do, the more we think of just what we might ask it to do.
Without general aviation, there is just no way such a hectic week could have taken place without wasting hours in cars or airline hubs waiting for connections. We had complete schedule flexibility, which alone is a freedom to cherish. We even saw the northern lights. Soon, we will pay our Arrow a visit. Lisa will do the housekeeping in the hangar while I wash off the bugs, check the oil, polish the spinner, and update the databases. One of us will likely pretend to get the stuff in the cargo bin better organized, even though it won’t be better at all. We might even go do some landings. But most likely, we will just offer some TLC and talk about adventures yet to be had.
For instance, did I tell you that our youngest daughter has—several times—asked about flying our Arrow to Alaska and back?
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