Columns of Air, Columns of Wind

It was the kind of day that reminds us why we endure 9 months of cold, drippy, gray skies. The kind of day where everything, even the people, have a bright glow. The leaves shimmer with the faintest tinge of gold and red. The sky is story-book blue and the air is the perfect temperature for shorts and T-shirsts. Not too hot, not too cool. The Willamette valley is so incredibly beautiful, you wonder how heaven could be any better.

Airplane people were gathered at Dietz Airpark that morning for the annual Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) Chapter 105 Poker Run. Jenny Hickman was serving up breakfast and handing out the first card. I was disappointed to learn that Jenny would not be flying with us that day and I would miss her smiling face at the stops along the way, but selfishly, I was glad because she is such a great cook and so had time to bake cinnamon rolls and lay out our delicious breakfast spread, and would be putting together our BBQ dinner that night. After breakfast and a nice visit with the folks gathered, we bumpity-bump rolled down the Dietz grass strip and popped up in to the clear-blue-sky. WEEEE! I said, then added, don't run over the Cub in front of us.

Breakfast at Deitz Air Park

The poker run stops took us up and down the Willamette valley, to Lebanon, where dusty fields turn in to the dense, green foothills of the Cascades, then to Independence, all spread out flat in the middle of farmland. We popped over the Coast Range for a stop at Tillmooooo-k, and quick look at the air museum. I am astonished every time I see the hidden treasure trove of vintage aircraft there. Leaving Tillamook, we gained altitude over Nehalem, then flew up and over the rocky bluffs of Neakanie mountain, with its tree-less cliffs hanging out over the sea. Roy turned the plane on its wing so I could look straight down and the foamy, sparkly deep blue sea splashing up on the rocks. More WEEEE! We talked to Randall Henderson who was flying just off our port side, as we descended to Seaside for our lunch stop. The kind folks at Seaside Air-park put on a fantastic BBQ lunch for us. Finally, we went to Scappose, where bunched up hills slope down to the gray-blue Columbia river.

The last stop of the poker run was at Twin Oaks, where Chef Jenny was waiting with pulled pork and BBQ chicken dinner. I love that gal! I was standing in the dinner line, chatting with someone about my favorite topic – Sailboats (ha – I bet you thought I was going to say "Roy" or "Airplanes"), when Diane Van Grunsven, standing in line behind me said :"You have a sailboat? I've always wanted to go sailing. It sounds like so much fun!" So naturally, I invited her to go sailing with us the following day up on Orcas. Roy and I were surprised and delighted that she and Dick accepted our invitation.

Dick and Diane met us at the Eastsound airport on Orcas the following morning. And it was ANOTHER glorious day. The trees have a bit more color to them up there, and the air is crisper. It is also clearer, since the sky is free of dust from the harvest. The four of us piled in to the little 1984 Honda Civic we keep as an airport car, and went to the New Leaf cafe at the Outlook Inn for breakfast. It was not the same as Jenny's breakfast, but we couldn't complain (the food there is actually quite wonderful). After breakfast, we drove out to Deer Harbor where I fairly danced down the dock in anticipation of our day on the water.

Roy and I tossed off then lines, and in no time at all, we were away, heading out on sparkling water, my heart racing as we opened the sails to a perfect 10knt breeze. Dick accepted my invitation to take the helm. Gliders are his passion, and a sailboat is just a glider on end. It sits in two mediums, but the principles are the same. Dick has always struck me as a serious fellow. I have never heard any words to come out of his mouth that were not absolutely relevant and well thought out. I have also never seen him smile. I'm sure he does, and I think he has a sense of humor, I've just never seen it. At least, not until that day. I showed Dick how to sail by the tell-tales on the jib, and he understood immediately how they belied the flow of wind across the sail. He lined the tell-tails up, TQ heeled just slightly and dug her shoulder in (I imagine she smiles when this happens) and the GPS showed 7.5 knts SOG. WEEEE again, and Dick had a HUGE grin on his face. Diane was also smiling and I was so happy she was having a nice time for her first sailboat outing.

We sailed past little Fawn island, at the entrance to Deer Harbor, then headed south between San Juan Island, and Jone Island. As we came around the back side of Jones Island, we sailed in to a no-wind zone in the shadow of the island. The sails flapped and Roy offered that we could turn on the iron Genny and motor out of it. Dick waved his hand, "No, no, its fine, the wind is just out there and it'll be here soon," he said. He explained how the wind moves in columns across the water, and how it would come down off the north side of San Juan Island, off our port side, and slide across, then get pushed up by Jones island. We were in the area underneath, where the column was being pushed up. I knew, from my racing experience, how the wind moves across the water, and how it is effected by land masses, but had not thought about it quite like that. I asked about how gliders maintain forward momentum, and Dick explained about how they surf on vertical columns of air.

I recalled a morning earlier this spring when I was driving across the I-5 bridge and saw horizontal columns of wind slicing down the river, each making a distinct pattern of ripples, with calm strips in between, and I thought about how, when we are racing, we move from one of these slices to the next. I have seen these ripples on the water a million times, and called out "Lift!" to the helmsman, but listening to Dicks words, my head filled with sailboats, crisp white sails, and airplanes, I saw the columns as part of a greater pattern, part of a whole.

I pictured the columns of wind we flew on this summer from the valley to the sparkling water of the San Juan islands, where we sailed across glass and bounced in the waves past dolphins and sea lions. We flew all the way to Arkansas and Tennessee on a tailwind across mountains, and vertical columns of forest fires, and past thunderheads to the mid-west, to a lake that felt as large as an inland sea.The plane connected us to the water, and the water to the wind.

Watching Dick and Dianes smiling faces I saw a larger connection - the people we shared our experiences with. A slideshow of smiles passed through my head – Kitty swabbing the decks as we crossed the straights on TQ that spring, Carls determined look as he flew by our boat in his J-36, Jacob getting his first taste of sailing, Cute 10 year old Gabby sitting in the cockpit of the Roys plane, grinning ear to ear, Jenny's smiling face serving up cinnamon rolls, Sierra snuggled in the back of Tucks Stinson, The sunset in Katies eyes as we watched Orcas swim by, and so many more, too numerous to list, and each one a jewel. 

The airplane and the boat connected us to our our family and friends in a most amazing way. From the Willamette valley, to the San Juan islands, Arkansas and Tennessee, each person we met, every smile we shared gave us a lift and brought us joy. The airplane and the sailboat were the mechanism by which we traveled, but the people we shared the experiences with were what gave us momentum.Without the people, without their smiles and joy, in the plane or on the boat, we would always be in the shadow of the island, waiting for the breeze to blow. Dick and Diane - and all of our wonderful, amazing friends and our most precious family - Thank you all! Lets do it again next year!!

Some wonderful photos of the Willamette valley from the EAA 105 Poker Run:
http://www.vansairforce.com/community/showthread.php?t=91195

Summer of Sailing

The picture I have stuck in my head this damp fall morning is of me sitting on the rail of TQ, wheel in one hand, head leaning out as I studied the tell-tales. Our friend Amy took the photo and captioned it A Woman's Place is at the Helm. The breaking foam in sparkling clear water behind me gives away the larger scene of a sailboat, full canvas, and happy crew. We've had so many fun sailing adventures this summer, each one a jewel captured in my mind. I have not written about these yet, holding each one close, savoring it, like a mouth-watering dessert I don't want to share, and don't want to be gone from my plate. 

A Woman's Place

 

In past years our forays to the islands were short, week-long vacations. Roy and I timidly explored, neither of us new to sailing, but learning to navigate reef and rock strew passes, plan our travels with the currents and manage a 36ft sailboat. This summer we kept TQ in Deer Harbor, at quiet little Cayou Quay marina for the entire season. We stretched our skills and our destination horizon. I felt our confidence shift. Pole pass, so narrow you can almost touch the rocks on either side, stopped making our hearts thud in our throats. We easily navigated tide rips around Spiden Island. When people gathered in their cockpits to watch "the show" as we approached a mooring ball, our performance was anti-climatic, boring even, with not a shout between us.

Roy and I NOT going back to the dock

 This year we had the pleasure of sailing with many of our friends from the airplane community. Amy and Rob, Tracy and Lisa, joined us for a blustery day sail up the west side of Orcas Island. I thought Tracy would be all over taking the helm, but to our surprise and delight, it was his wife, timid, petite Lisa, who did not hesitate to take the wheel. A few short pointers, and she had the rail nearly in the water. She had previously professed to be uncomfortable on boats. It was hard to tell that from the grin wrapped around her face.

Sunrise at Stuart Island

Our pilot friend John flew up in his Cessna with his cousin and 18 yr old son. Jacob was along because his Dad MADE him. I have forced my 16yr old to endure such hardships, and Jacobs demeanor was familiar to me. Roy and I have a rule I shared with Jacob on our drive from the airport to the boat. "The point is to have fun, and if we are not having fun, we go back to the dock. No questions asked." I could see relief in his eyes – the pressure was off. We had beautiful wind that day, just enough to make our sail exciting. I invited Jacob to take the helm, and talked him through the basics of sailing. When it was time to tack, I told him he was in charge. What a delight to see his broad smile and eyes light up, as he called "Ready About? Helms A-LEE!" We only went back to the dock when it was getting late, and time to go home.

Kitty at the Helm

Jan and Tuck were guests when my racing-crew-mate, Kitty was my first mate for the weekend. The wind was very light, with the occasional ripple across glassy emerald water. It was a sleepy, tranquil day. We sailed a little, then motored past the long finger of Spiden island, admiring the red, knobby tree-lined shore and watching sea lions swim by. We took the boat to Stuart Island, where we tied up to the linear moorage, and went to shore for a hike. Jan shared with me later that she had never been on a sailboat skippered by women, and it was a moving experience. She said "Its always the men that are in charge, and I always feel along for the ride. You both were calm and confident and everything happened smoothly. You made me feel like I was part of the crew. It was So Much Fun!"

Jan and Tuck

Kitty and I ran the boat the same as Roy and I – as a Team. TQ brings that out in us. We make decisions together, and lordy knows we make mistakes together. We have laughed out loud at our sailing fumbles, and cried during our attempts to anchor. We have coached each other through navigation challenges, and held hands as the setting sun turned the water a glowing red around rocky, pine-studded islands. And never, ever have we gone back to the dock because we weren't having fun.

Big Hugs and Much Thanks to all our friends for an amazing summer of sailing!! Lets do it again next year!!

Sierra and Pippa Stuart Is.

Roy and I at Turn Point

Sunset Reid Harbor, Stuart Island

The Rear-view Mirror is in the Back Seat Getting a Rear-view

The Rear-view Mirror is in the Back Seat Getting a Rear-view

Roy and I floated. We floated for days. We floated off the grass strip at Oliver Springs International Airport, just outside of Oak Ridge, TN, but closer to Oliver Springs. We floated up, up and way up over strato-cumulus clouds that were ambitious enough to grow in to cumuli and nimbus. I had no idea that you could file an IFR flight plan to leave a grass strip, but you can. 

The clouds mostly cleared over Arkansas, and in particular over Lake Ouachita, (pronounced WASH-It-Aww) where I was surprised to see a lake below that looked like a smaller, broken up, scattered version of the San Juan Islands. The lake is a huge body of water, where some thousand year old native american spirits tossed shale and quartz across a small inland sea, and the rocks became islands covered with trees and shrubs. Roy has for many years told me that this place is one of the most beautiful he has been to and I can see why. 

The lake is where Roy's family gathered every other year or so for family vacations since about the 1960's. The first generation to gather their children on houseboats for a week of swimming, skiing, family dinners, card playing, rock skipping, and story swapping has left the world, and the second generation gathers with the third, who are young adults and the forth, who are young children and early teens. 

We floated in, on, and around the lake for two days. We shared meals, drank beer, bloody Marys, and vodka infused sweet tea. We floated on blow-up floaty things with drink holders drinking beer. We read books, took naps and got too much sun. It was BLISSFUL. I tried "tubing" which is being pulled behind a power boat way too fast on a large floaty-thing. The youngest member of the clan, 8 year old Gabriel was my tubing buddy. She taught me all the hand signs – thumbs up for go faster, thumbs down for go slower, OK = OK and, waving the hand in front of the throat for I'm done, Stop Please. Gabriel and I were towed slowly. This allowed us time to play mermaid. We were mermaids being pulled by Sea Horses, on a beautiful sea shell. Gabriel looked like a mermaid with her golden blond hair and blue, blue eyes.

On the day it was time to go home, I could not, so we stayed and floated another day. Roy floated on pool noodles. He held my feet while I floated on my back, arms out-stretched under the sky, dotted with clouds, dragonflys, and vultures. In the evening we held hands and watched the sunset from the deck of the boat, while bats flitted by. We fell in love some more again 

Last bit of Sunset

Then we had to leave. My little buddy Gabriel came to see us off. I hugged her tight, and told her I would for sure call her on her birthday, which was the next day.

Gabriel and I

Then we floated off, up and away, across more lakes, and trees, and in to Oaklahoma where grass gathers up and rolls in to hills and trees roll away to ponds and rivers. We floated under dark clouds broken up with shafts of evening sunlight that bent down to wide, square cut, cultivated fields, across Kansas, and in to Nebraska. We floated down, down in to warm evening air, to Nebraska.

We had dinner at Farrs Family restaurant, where the owner has over 2500 cookie jars, and that does not include the christmas cookie jars. It was the most amazing collection of cookie jars I have ever seen. You just never know WHAT you find find exploring this country!

While we were getting fuel, a small private jet pulled up right next to us. I pulled out my camera to take a picture, thinking the scene illustrated our "Rock Star" lifestyle. The passengers in the plane got out and started taking my picture. I waved. They waved back. Then came over to see our little plane. They thought it was the _Coolest_Plane_Ever (rightly so). They told me they left New York a couple hours ago, and would be in San Jose, Ca. that night. I told them that's great, but they travel way too far up to actually _see_ the country. I could tell they had not really thought of it like that. 

Fellow Rock Star Adventurers

The next morning we will hopped back in to our airport courtesy car, back to the plane, and back across country, back home.The car's rear-view mirror is in the floor in the back seat, facing backwards. This trip has been amazing, wonderful, exploring, playing, laughing... floating. We will keep many, many fond memories. But I think we'll leave the looking back to the rear-view mirror, and we will keep looking forward... to Life's Big Adventure!

Some Stories do not have a clear beginning, middle and end

Some stories do not have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing...

Gilda Radner

Meadow at Buckhorn Inn

This is supposed to be a travel log and as such should have a well defined sequence of events. However time has taken on a twisting, helixical shape, like the swirls of mist brushing gently along the dense, green hills and valleys in front of me. Birds whose whippoorwill, chattering tweeter, tweeter, tweeter, high, clear sopranos are unfamiliar to me sing out from the trees.

Little Pigeon River

The draw of these Smoky Mountains is irresistible, and if you do not fall completely in love, you are at least drawn in to a sweet romance. The kind where you return year after year to meet your lover in the same hidden cabin, when summer leaves have a hint of the changing season. 

The cabin is off the highway, down a gravel road, that runs along a tumbling, clear river. The road is lined with a low, stone wall, painstakingly built by a homesteader a 100 years ago, and with rhododendrons, birch and maples whose canopies reach up to the sky, across the road, and hold hands with trees who drink from the river on the other side. Everything here drinks from the river, and the humid air. 

Cades Cove Cabin

To get to the cabin from the gravel road, you climb stairs built in the stone wall and walk past a graveyard. Most of the graves belong to babies, one or two days or one or two years old. A moss roof covers the cabin, and sweet sunlight dapples down through oak leaves. There the mountains wait for you.

Yesterday Roy and I floated down the Little Pigeon river in big, fat, yellowinner tubes. We had a BLAST! The water was clean, cool, just right for swimming. The river banks are crowded with dense foliage and stacked gray layered sandstone. We floated past summer cabins - family get-aways decorated with all manner of water toys and hammocks, clean, crisp villas of the well-to-do, and shacks with chicken wire decks and Jesus Saves, No Drinking, No Drugs signs, and the occasional camp-ground and RV park. We bounced, swirled and spun through small rapids. Wooo Hooo Fun!

The river was low, and so was my butt in the water, so I kept getting stuck on the rocks. I passed by a teenager breaking off a tree branch on shore to make himself a pushing stick. "thats a mighty fine lookin stick you have there" I called out. He replied "Thankya ma'm you may have this 'un an I'll make myself anuther" and tossed me the stick. Such is the way with all the people we have met here - incredibly gentle and kind.

Roy and I eating ice cream after our float trip

The stick made me a river navigator par excellence and I scooted through the little rapids with no more butt-hangy-uppy. I was scooting thru a little rapid and started to bounce past a little girl whose inner tube was stuck on a rock and her mama was getting away from her. mooomaaaaa, she cried, so I stuck out my stick and said "grab on" and we floated down river to where her Mom was waiting for her where the river slowed. Two kindnesses with one stick. The entire time the theme from Daniel Boone played in my head - Born on a Mountaintop in Tennessee...

Evening found us at the Buckhorn Inn, where I sit now, overlooking a meadow and mountains and misty, swirly clouds and time has another meaning, except Roy has the car packed and we must be off to other adventures.

Roy on the patio at the Buckhorn Inn

The InBetween Things

The InBetween Flying Things

After flitting across the great, wide plains states in our Magic Carpet, Roy and I landed at John C Tune airport just outside of Nashville, TN on July 4^th. This is where our Tennessee exploration and adventure began, and we have done and seen several things, in addition to spending time working on airplane repairs at rural airports. Here are some of the highlights:

We walked the dozen blocks from our hotel past Noisy, Crowded Honkey Tonks to the waterfront to watch Fourth Of July fireworks. There were about a MILLION BILLION people who also wanted to watch fireworks, and it was so crowded near the water we could hardly move. We retreated to several blocks back, thinking that we were probably not going to see fireworks this year. We were almost back to the hotel when the fireworks started, and the display was SPECTACULAR.(Denise, thanks for the photo!)

The next day Roy and I visited the Parthenon, near Vanderbilt University. It is a replica of the real Parthenon in Greece. The history of the place was interesting, and we saw a spectacular art exhibit. I would never have expected Roy to stay awake for an art exhibit, let alone enjoy it, but he did, and so did I. The display featured photographs that are modern recreations of classical works. The Artist was Juan Pont Lezica.

In the afternoon we drove out to the Riverview restaurant on the Cumberland River. This was a favorite stop for Roy and his brother Alvin when they took motorcycle rides out to the country during their Vanderbuilt days. Roy had fried catfish, and I had fried scallops. We both had fried Okra. Do you see a theme here? Lunch would not have been complete without HUSHPUPPIES and sweet tea. For dessert we shared a bowl of banana pudding, with a crust of 'Nilla wafers. This was so good, it was all could do to keep from licking the bowl clean! Here is a pic of Roy on the dock in front of the river. Several years ago, this place was flooded all the way up to the roof!

Roy at the Riverview Restaurant

Before leaving Nashville for Piney Creek airpark the next day, Roy took his high school friend, Denise for a flight in 174RT. She said she had so much fun, she had tears in her eyes. I'm very glad she could experience the joy and freedom of the Magic Carpet, and it was a reminder to me of how very lucky I am to have the privilege of being Roy's Favorite Passenger! 

Roy and Denise

Yesterday I was Patient

Part of our mission for visiting Tennessee is to explore possible places to retire. To that end, we visited Piney Creek Air-park, a short hop in the airplane outside of Nashville. Piney Creek features a beautiful paved runway cut in to the trees on a wooded Plateau. One of the impressive things about Tennessee is there are trees as far as you can see in any direction. And hills. The entire state is one continuous, rolling range of hills, lakes, ponds, rivers, and canyons that I understand are called Coves.

Joe is one of the partners at Piney Ridge Air-park. He greeted us warmly, and took us on a tour of the three houses which constitute the beginning of the small community, showed us future plans for the development, and took us on a short drive to town. It was all very pleasant, picturesque, and quite rural. We thanked him for the tour, then climbed in the plane, ready to take off for Oak Ridge, where we planned to spend the next few days.

As we rolled down the runway, the engine sputtered, coughed and backfired, and when Roy pulled back on the throttle, the propeller stopped turning. We were both Very Glad we were not yet in the air. Joe and another fellow had been watching out take off. They came over immediately to offer assistance. The fellows towed the plane to a hangar, and called Wayne, the local Guy Who Fixes EveryThing, to come over and offer assistance. 

Before long there were 5 or 6 guys in the hangar, all lending a hand. Joe handed out bottles of water, then took me to the local corner market/deli/restaurant to get sandwiches. When we returned to the hangar, he showed me where the fishing poles were, and told me about the Big Bass that lives in the pond off the rear deck of the hangar. I inquired enough about the engine to know that Roy and N174RT were in good hands, and I retreated to a deck chair with my kindle and a fishing pole. Did I mention is is HOT here? So hot you can barely move hot. Spend all day with a film of sweat on you hot. Do nothing but sit in a chair with a Supersize cup of iced sweet tea and read all day hot.

The pond behind the hangar with the Big Bass

I SERIOUSLY missed the northwest, my daughter, my boat, my garden, during this time. It did not feel like vacation. But what is one to do? All of the fellows helping with the plane were over-the-top incredibly nice, friendly, warm and welcoming, and they provided unwavering help in sorting out the issue with the plane. Its hard to be pouty in such circumstances. By the time Roy finished a test flight and was feeling good about continuing on, the sun was starting to go down. Wayne operated several small cabins nearby, all of which were full, but offered for us to stay with his Mother, whose house was on the property with the cabins. 

Marianne, our hostess, was delightful. She is 80 years old sharp as a tack. Loves to fly. And makes wonderful creamed corn. And blueberry pie. If that was not enough, the blueberry pie was served with Roy's favorite - Blue Bell Ice Cream. The three of us sat on the screened-in front porch, eating pie and ice cream, and Marianne told us about her years operating a chicken farm and raising cattle on the property. She sold the cattle and stopped raising poultry when her husband passed, then Wayne, who she readily attests CAN fix everything, built the small cabins and put in a RV park on the property. It is a wonderful place for cabins, as it has a small lake, and a spectacular view of a valley and misty mountains beyond. 

In addition to drinking sweet tea, reading, fishing, enjoying the warmth and hospitality of our hosts, I also took pictures of bugs:

Cricket on the deck

Butterfly in the hangar

And listened to the twangy rich way that people talk here, like the gentlemen we chatted with outside the local grocer, where you can buy breakfast cereal and chicken feed.

And in the morning, stretched out my yoga mat, and breathed in the salty, woodsy, marshy, moist air from the pond, and the misty ridges draped in green beyond.

Navigators Log Star Date July 4th, 2012

There is no real love without fascination

quote from Mink River by Brian Doyle

 

     We left Mustang Micky's just after dawn. The full moon was rising in the west, opposite the broad glowing orange in the east. We skirted the top of the Rockies, then dropped down in to the plains states.

Roy with N174RT at Mustang Micky's in Helena, MT.

We passed by Big Horn Canyon National Recreation Area, near the Montana\Wyoming border. The Canyon is layers of burnt orange, brown and green. It is the opposite of the mountains we left behind, Upside down, sharp, one peak or ravine folded tightly against another.

The Rockies as we leave Montana for Wyoming

     Breakfast/Lunch today was at D&B's in Ainsworth, Nebraska. The front porch was sagging more than slightly, and held up by 2x4's at a slight angle. The shelf on the inside entryway was decorated by a nativity scene, the kind you buy at Walmart that tries to make all the characters look real, even thought baby Jesus was not a white child. A wooden craft store sign behind the cash register said "Life is Short, Eat Dessert First". An ancient metal, paint peeling, Pepsi Clock decorated the opposite wall, where blinds were drawn against the sun. The daily lunch special was written in red marker on a small dry-erase board. We sat down at a table with two gentlemen, one older, one much older, who were about to dive in to the special, which was pan fried chicken, corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a little side dish of square cut custard pie. We skipped breakfast to get miles under us while it was still cool-ish and I was so hungry I nearly grab one of their plates away from them.

 

      While we waited to be served, the one not so old gentleman asked me if I was from the class of '74. No, I replied, '79. Oh, he nodded knowingly. The much older gentleman said class of '62. I nodded politely, thinking maybe this was the way people greeted each other on the planet of Ainsworth, NE. I did feel like an alien, with my sporty sun-glasses and iphone on the table in front of me. Roy asked if there was a class reunion happening. The not so old fella said "Yes, we're all here". I wondered who "All" might be.

     Betty stopped by on her way out to chat with older and much older. She had been well, thank you very much, since the doctor helped her with the numbing pain down the side of her leg. She was thin, lithe, stood very straight despite the many soft folded wrinkles that were once a young, energetic face. Much older said he was not so well, Those Folks had Asked Him To Leave, and now he had to find a new place. Not so old, nodded, his head down, "He's been giving them a load of grief for sure." Betty patted much older on the shoulder. The two paid their bill after Betty said goodbye, then left, with matching khaki shorts covering ample sitting area tucked firmly between their rear smiles.

D&B's in Ainsworth, NE

      Pete and Evelyn came in and took a seat behind us. Pete was Ox stout in large blue and white pin-stripped cover-all’s. His huge hands had worked on the farm every day of his life, except for the week when he and Evelyn took a vacation to a lake in Wisconsin. She had held his hand when they walked to the shore, and they kissed, and he thought that was maybe the way romance was supposed to feel, like they showed in old black and white movies. He knew she was stronger than an ox, and had held him, and the farm and the children firmly their entire lives. Now he wore hearing aids, and had to turn them up a bit when the waitress asked if he'd like his usual iced tea. He kept them turned down because the ox sometimes pulled harder on the reigns than he could keep up with at his age now. 

 

      My BTL was on white bread, with a thick slice of beef-steak tomato and lettuce that was almost green. It was delicious. So was the side of coleslaw that was snow white, fine chopped cabbage all rolled and soaked in in mayonnaise, sugar and vinegar. Roy ordered half of the lunch special. We shared the square of custard. It was grainy, baked to fast, and wonderfully creamy and sweet.

      The waitress with her faded pink tee-shirt, and pony-tail long and straight down her back, noticed me eying Roy's chicken thigh. "Would you like a piece of chicken, darl'in? I have extra, ya know." Yes, yes, I would. Can I have a wing? She smiled broadly, "a wing it is". Oh my goodness, yummy, crunchy, greasy goodness!

      This country is endlessly varied, and fascinating, from ocean to ocean, mountains, canyons, valleys and all the absolutely wonderful people. What a pleasure and privilege it was to see the country in our airplane on this Forth of July. I love this country!

 

Navigators Log Star Date July 3, 2012

Day 0.25 of our trip to Tennessee. We were a bit slow getting going this afternoon. Finished up work, filled the cat feeder, let cat out, let cat in, clean up after cat, empty dishwasher (that was Roy's idea....I mean really, who does that stuff right before leaving for vaca). Roy did last minute route planning, I stuffed all our gear in the car, then off to the airport, stuffed everything in the plane, then off we went! Whew.... all kinds of songs come to mind, On the Road again... Life is a Highway... or my favorite plane song Magic Carpet Ride (click the link to hear the song)
The first leg of the trip was blissfully uneventful. We soared past the Dalles, marvelling again at how fast the RV-7A is compared to the Zodiac, then whooshed over Lewiston, Idaho, and on to Helena, Montana.
We decended to the valley in 18-30knt winds. wooo hooo in a sailboat - not so much in a small plane.
We are staying the night at Mustang Mickeys, an FBO on the field, right under the tower. We get to sleep in bunk beds tonight :-))))
Here are a couple pics I took enroute:

Wind Farms just past the Dalles

The Rockies

May you have beautiful sunsets

Navigators Log, Star Date June 21st, 2012

The week of June 20^th was stressful week at work. Its a good job, not wonderful.It keeps me intellectually challenged, pays for the sailboat, and hopefully will send my youngest daughter to college. My oldest daughter has opted out of college for now, in favor of a husband.Said daughter lives in Delaware and was visiting her in-laws in Puyallup that week. Puyallup is only two hours away from where Roy and I live in Hillsboro. This is where I try not to sound like a nagging parent, but it did hurt more than a little that they went to visit the in-laws and not us. Roy and I flew up to Puyallup to have dinner with them in the middle of the week.

On the flight up I focused intently on enjoying the evening. Forget the work stuff, just enjoy the scenery and the chance to see my little-girl-now-grown-up-woman. Dinner was pleasant. SO VERY wonderful to Hug My Daughter. I had a tear in my eye on the flight home.

Eons ago when I was at Girl Scout camp, each of us campers were given a little scroll scribed with a saying meant just for us over our last-night-at-camp campfire gathering. Mine read "May there be enough clouds in your life to make a beautiful sunset". I must have had enough clouds that week:

The Summer Solstice was also that week. And it was June-uary. We had plans to spend the weekend on our sailboat on Orcas Island, in the San Juans. I had visions of sailing out of Deer Harbor under a blue sky with crisp breeze filling the sails. Instead the sky was gray and drippy. Flying up to Orcas was a no-go unless we were willing to be in the soup the entire way. I tried not to be whiny. I missed my boat. I wanted to go sailing. Rain and more Rain. Blech.

Saturday evening the layer of gloom broke up enough for us to fly down to Albany for dinner. On the recommendation of some friends, we decided to try the Cascade Grill at the north end of the runway. The restaurant is set between the Comfort Inn and Holiday Inn. I expected Hotel food. We were pleasantly surprised. The food was GOOD. Not 4-star gourmet, but GOOD.The service was GREAT.

I think the scroll should also haves aid "May some of your sailing trips be rained out so that you can enjoy lovely flights to good food."

Grilled Chicken

Catfish and Sweet Potatoes

And Sunsets... lets not forget the sunsets:

Navigators Log - Star Date June 17, 2012 -Bumpy Air, Beautiful Waves

Navigators Log - Star Date June 17, 2012

 Bumpy Air, Beautiful Waves

Bumpy air is just uncomfortable, no two ways around it. A friend recently reminded me that the air is three dimensional, and the wing generates lift, no matter if it is flying right-side up or upside down or sideways. My Sailor Brain knows from years of experience that the boat will not just capsize if it heels to a strong breeze. My airplane brain refuses to make the translation from water to air.

Last weekend we flew to Paisley, Oregon to visit my parents. The sky was smattered with clouds in Hillsboro when we left, and the foothills of the Cascade mountains were loosely wrapped with a cushy white blanket. A brisk southwest breeze cleared the air and from 9500ft I could make out Mt Lassen far off to the south. Looking below to the Mt JeffersonWilderness area, still covered in snow, I saw a small lake that looked like a topaz blue doughnut, with a small icy island in the middle.

The Three Sisters

We had a good tailwind, which turned our 170knts of airplane speed to 190knts speed over ground.

The clouds stopped abruptly on the west side of the mountains, opening the vast expanse of south central Oregon in front of us. Then the bumps started. It felt like the plane was bouncing over rocks. My irrational brain was certain that disaster was imminent. I tried distracting myself by pointing out landmarks. “Look,” I said to Roy, “There's Pilot Butte where I took the kids to watch fireworks.” Bounce bounce. I clutched the armrest. Roy asked me where the highway was that went from Bend to Paisley, and what some of the names of the mountains were. Bump, Bump, BUMP. I responded in a shaky voice, embarrassed to be such a nervous nelly. I tried breathing through my eyelids. Bump, BUMP, BUMP. 

Sun River and Bend far below

 

We passed PaulinaPeak and I told Roy about the two lakes in the middle of the crater there. Summer Lake appeared a few miles ahead. The wind was whipping up dust devils on the wide alkali bed that forms the south side of the lake. More BUMPS.

Landing in a strong cross-wind is another level of stress, but I was so relived to be out of the bumps, I didn't care a wit if we were at a 45degree angle to the runway on final. Roy set the plane Gently Down. Gently is my story and I'm sticking to it. I helped tie the plane down, then made a mad dash to the far side of the utility shed. I think the bumps shook my morning coffee out of me.

We had a pleasant visit with my parents, who drove us to see the new Lake DistrictHospital. My Mother has served as Chairman of the Board for several years and the new hospital has been her baby.

Later in the afternoon, we said our goodbyes, and it was time to climb back in to the plane. I was determined to not be a bundle of nerves on our trip home. Roy contacted Seattle Center to get flight following and was advised of Extreme Turbulence in the Bend/Redmond area at 10k feet. That's just great, I thought. Time to practice breathing through my eyelids again. Roy did not even pause at 10k ft to see just how bumpy it was, and proceeded straight up to 12k ft.

The air was not smooth up there; instead it undulated in long, low waves. We sailed against an incoming tide, with a 50knt headwind that reduced our speed to barely 100knts over the ground.

Sliding up and down waves is familiar to me – no stress involved. My Sailor Brain felt quite at home above the foamy sea that had covered the mountains, their jagged peaks poking up, like rocks awash at high tide. A breaker curled over the top of Mt Jefferson, suspended in the air and splashed over the other side.

I keep flying with Roy, even though the bumps are uncomfortable. Its a matter of choice, like so many things in life. The air gets bumpy sometimes. And sometimes, the clouds curl like soft ocean waves upon rocky peaks.

I can hardly wait for our next trip!!

Waves over the mountains