So there I was on Sunday, hanging out with the controllers at Fisk, recording some audio of the activities (on the ground, in the air, and over the radio) when Hal walks over and whispers to me: "That guy over there has a plane and is willing to take you for a ride through the arrival." "Huh," I said. "That's nice of him. I'll think about it."
I continued recording, and a while later I heard a little voice in my head: "THINK about it? A guy just offered to let you experience the arrival to AirVenture from the air ... the arrival you're been reading about and practicing in Flight Simulator for the past month ... and you're going to THINK about it?!"
So, I walked over and introduced myself. He name was Todd Mollerup, and he was from Illinois near Chicago. We spent a few minutes checking each other out ("How many hours do you have?" "How long have you owned the plane?" "What airplanes do you fly?" "Do you have an instrument rating?" "How familiar are you with the arrival procedures?")
He had flown the procedure once to get his plane on the ground here, so I figured he was at least mildly familiar with the arrival. I was very familiar with it on paper and in the sim. With his 800 hours in a variety of aircraft (including the fairly-recently purchased 1979 Piper Warrior parked in the North 40 camping area at KOSH), I decided I'd be in good hands. He seemed comfortable having me in his plane. "Let's do it."
About an hour later we were in the Warrior, Todd in the left seat, me in the right, and my co-worker Steve Wilson in the back. Todd started the engine, and soon a flight line volunteer arrived to direct us toward the runway. Flight operations at AirVenture are largely without radio communication from the pilots, so I held a "VFR" sign in the window to let everyone know we wanted to depart visually.
To make a REALLY long story short, let's just say that taxing from the camping area on the southwest side of runway 9/27 to the departure area on the northeast side of runway 27 is a looooong journey. It involves being passed off from one Civil Air Patrol volunteer to another through a twisting course across the bumpy grass and through an obstacle course of cones. In retrospect, it seems like we spent as much time taxiing as we did flying. All of it is, of course, part of the Oshkosh experience, and there are plenty of airplanes to look at along the way, so no complaints. It was just a looooong taxi....
Eventually we got to the departure end of runway 27, and monitored the tower on 121.75 as per the NOTAM, and Todd performed an engine run-up. After a few planes landed, the tower controller (sitting on an elevated platform right near the end of the runway) cleared us to taxi into position and hold. When the planes ahead cleared the runway, she cleared us for takeoff.
The VFR departure procedure from runway 27 (see pages 14 and 15 of the NOTAM) requires you to fly a heading between 270 and 360 degrees at or below 1,300 feet MSL (above sea level) until clear of the tower's Class D airspace (5 miles out). Todd climbed out, and I watched for traffic and kept an eye on our altitude and our distance from the airport. Once clear of the Class D, Todd handed the controls over to me.
Flying from the right seat is always a little strange if you're not used to it. Not only does it feel backwards in your hands (left hand on the throttle, right hand on the yoke), the "sight picture" is all wrong too. So I awkwardly turned us toward the north end of Rush Lake, climbed a bit, then leveled out. Straight and level ... that felt pretty easy.
Our plan wad to fly around the north end of Rush lake to the town of Ripon where the VFR arrival begins. It was a hazy afternoon, so all three of us had our heads on swivels, scanning for airplanes. There weren't many out there, but when you're headed for a point in the sky (over Ripon at 1,800 feet) that you know everyone flying VFR to Oshkosh is heading for, you need to be vigilant. Throughout the course of the flight all three of us spotted airplanes the others hadn't seen. I really can't imagine flying the arrival as a single pilot during peak flow without a whole lot of luck on my side, and that's never a good thing for a pilot to wish for.
We listened to the arrival ATIS on 118.75, and tuned in Fisk Approach on 120.7. I gave control of the airplane back to Todd, and after a clearing turn to get a good look at the sky all around us (which made me feel even more comfortable flying with him) we turned south toward Ripon, easily identifiable by a bulbous water tower that says (conveniently) "Ripon." Pilots in the midwest might not have easy landmarks like the mountains and coastlines we have out west, but these marked water towers in every town help to make up for it.
The VFR arrival starts at Ripon (see page 7 of the NOTAM), so we needed to be level at 1,800 feet and slowed to 90 knots by the time we got there. We had hoped to follow someone in, but with nobody in sight, over Ripon we found the railroad tracks and followed them northeast toward Fisk on our own. Then, just as I relaxed a bit with the sense that now we were "safe," I glanced up and saw an airplane directly overhead. He was flying the higher, faster arrival (2,300 feet and 135 knots), but it was still a little disconcerting to miss him completely until he was right above us. It reminded me of learning to scuba dive, and losing sight of my dive buddy only to realize she was directly above me. The air, like the water, is three dimensional. The lesson? In diving the mantra is: "Breathe continuously and never hold your breath." On the VFR arrival to AirVenture it should be: "Scan continuously and never stop your scan."
Approaching Fisk it became clear that even though we couldn't see them, there were airplanes ahead of us. When the, "Low-wing half a mile south of Fisk" was asked to "rock your wings," we wondered, "Is that us? I think that's us...."
An hour earlier I had seen and heard the whole operation from the ground, and I wondered at the time why the pilots all seemed so confused. Once I experienced the arrival from the air all became clear: it's confusing! The most difficult part is knowing if the controller is talking to you or to another airplane that looks similar. If you can't see the other plane it's hard to know. It's an easier task I suspect if you know exactly where you are (a GPS helps), if you listen carefully to everything the controller says, and if you paint a mental image of all the aircraft on the approach in front and behind you. Pilots need to do this when flying in any busy traffic pattern, but with 100 or more airplanes passing over Fisk every hour, teh VFR arrival to Oshkosh is no ordinary pattern entry experience.
Finally identified and over Fisk, Todd mentioned that we were the Microsoft guys, and the controllers seemed to enjoy knowing that. They told us to continue up the tracks, enter a right downwind for runway 27, and to monitor the tower. We changed frequencies and continued northeast. Soon the airport appeared, and we made our way onto the downwind leg as per page 9 of the NOTAM.
From there it was pretty simple. The controller told us to begin our descent and to follow the aircraft ahead turning base. Todd did a great job turning inside the shoreline, and we touched down just after the green dot halfway down the runway, just as the controller instructed us to. Once on the ground we exited to the left onto the grass. Todd cleaned up the airplane (flaps up, carburetor heat off), and I held up a sign that said "GAC" for "General Aviation Camping," and Todd's row number.
A series of hard-working Civil Air Patrol volunteers guided us along the grass toward our row ... and then past it. It became clear that they thought we were just arriving at the show, and they were bringing us all the way around to the open spots on the north side of 9/27. We tried to argue with hand signals, but to no avail. Finally, somewhere around taxiway B1 I think, a guy got it. He laughed and told us to hold while he figured out what to do with us. Meanwhile, the three of us had a little talk, and when the volunteer turned back to us, I held up the "VFR" sign: we were going flying again. He laughed and threw his hands up, and we continued toward the departure end of the runway. We rationalized it might be faster to just go through the arrival again than to taxi all the way back on the grass. Pilots will find any excuse to go flying.
So off we went, and did the thing all over again. This time it was even quieter, and though we hoped to land on 36, for some reason they were only using 27. We flew around Rush Lake, down to Ripon, and up the tracks to the airport.
Climbing out of the airplane a while later I felt like I really had a good grasp of the arrival. The procedure itself is not complicated. What makes it difficult is all the traffic. As I mentioned in yesterday's post, it's weird to walk around the airport and think about the fact that almost every GA plane there, and almost every pilot (10,000 or so) flew that same arrival procedure over the past few days.
As we tied down the plane I smiled. I may not be camping under the wing of my own plane at Oshkosh this year, I may not have flown all the way from Seattle, I may not have been pilot-in- command or sat in the left seat, but I did get to experience the arrival from the air. Twice.
Given our taxiing adventures I had to wonder, does EAA encourage pilots to go flying once they've parked in a camping area? Todd said he had asked someone just that, and the answer was something to the effect of, "Definitely. Flying is what AirVenture is all about!"
Flying, yes. And becoming fast friends with total strangers. When we climbed into his Warrior, Todd barely knew Steve and me. When we climbed out, we didn't objectively know each other any better, yet something had changed. I saw it in his eyes. I saw it in Steve's. I don't expect that we'll necessarily keep in touch, or ever go flying together again. But for those few hours on Sunday afternoon we shared an experience in the air, and it's the memories of those experiences that lie behind each logbook entry a pilot makes, behind each tall tale told in the hangar for years to come.
Me, Todd, and Steve |
Shared experiences are what AirVenture is all about, and many years from now I'll recount the story of my first flight to Oshkosh ... from Oshkosh. Or maybe by that time I'll have a plane of my own, and I'll bring it all full circle by giving some other plane-less pilot I cross paths with his or her own first experience of arriving by air.
"Want to go flying?" It's hard to imagine sweeter words than those, especially here.
Strumenti 
