By Robbie Culver
Like many of you reading these words, I have been to Oshkosh often. It’s my annual summer aviation addiction — I see it’s yours, too. For those of you new to the event, welcome to this year’s version of your annual family reunion. Many of us literally plan our summers around how to spend as much time at Oshkosh as we can. The commitment is worth it every year. Come for the airplanes; come back for the people. Good to see you, my friends!
From the evening parties in Camp Scholler, to the early morning departures, and the 7 a.m. yodeling, here we are — the world’s largest, greatest aviation celebration! Out on the flightline, wandering through the exhibit buildings, sitting in a seminar, or checking out the museum, we immerse ourselves in the experience.
Weeks of planning and hoping for good weather came down to trying to beat a front sweeping into Texas from the northwest. An end run around some big cells, ducking under some layers, and I was past the worst of it. I was on my way to Oshkosh! Every cross-country trip comes complete with surprises and rerouting, and this year was certainly no exception.
My first day’s destination was Clinton, Missouri (KGLY). Certainly within reach, it just took some (literally) on-the-fly creative planning to get there. The air-conditioned hotel room was a welcome relief from a day of bouncing along in the summer heat, and as I fell asleep, I was thinking of what led to this adventure.
We are a unique group, homebuilders. We put hands and hearts to our project, spend endless hours planning, doing, building, and then flying our creations. We pour every ounce of physical energy, emotional investment, and financial commitment into these machines that become a part of us — they quite literally have our DNA. Safety wire, indeed. Our hearts are full at each completed task, each checkbox on a list that never seems to end. Until, one day, it does end. We find ourselves at the end of one journey, with the next one beginning.
When I was young, I attended with my family, and somewhere in one of those visits the seeds of building an airplane began with words whispered by my brother Mike: “Someone built that airplane in their garage.” Those words germinated in my soul for years, until one day my wife suggested I follow through on the dream and actually build the airplane I dreamt of. Who am I to argue when my wife suggests such a thing?
I visit Mike’s memorial brick at the Brown Arch every day I am here in Oshkosh. Maybe you have other bricks you visit, too. I do. Hi, Jon ….
From 2011 to 2015 Jon and I built a Sonex in our garage, in the suburbs of Chicagoland. I made the first flight in 2015 and flew it from Aurora, Illinois (KARR) to Oshkosh in 2016. A dream come true. Mike passed away January 20, 2015, after a two-year battle with pancreatic cancer and wasn’t around to celebrate with me in homebuilt parking after I arrived. But I am absolutely certain he flew the Fisk arrival with me.
Fast-forward to 2024, and my wife and I have relocated to an airpark in Frankston, Texas (T25/TX1), where we built a hangar home. I decided to fly the Sonex back to Oshkosh this year. I am always up for a good aviation adventure, and this one didn’t disappoint.
The next morning I departed KGLY under sunny skies in much cooler temperatures. A few minutes into the first leg, I pulled back my canopy shade to get some free solar heating. I was actually cold!
My routine when planning a cross-country leg is to ensure I never land with anything close to minimum fuel. My Sonex holds 16 gallons of 100LL and burns right around 6 gallons an hour, so I try to be on the ground before I hit the two-hour mark. At 59 years old, my bladder also has a vote in this.
This paid off well as one of the day’s fuel stops had … no fuel — the pumps had no power. The locals in the hangar growled at me that it was NOTAM’d, but I politely disagree since I actually look for that. Regardless, I hopped back in and set up for a short flight to another local airport where I hoped there was fuel. There was no NOTAM, but also no one answered the phone. I got there to find the pumps working. Whew!
Growing up in Wisconsin, my family spent many weekends exploring the southwest corner of the state. My route of flight from Iowa into Illinois and then Wisconsin took me over familiar territory, including where my ancestors settled in the 1830s. I gave them a silent salute as I passed right over the family cemetery along Highway 14. That was an unexpected bonus.
By early afternoon, I had landed at Baraboo-Wisconsin Dells (KDLL) for my final fuel stop before the Fisk arrival. I was tired and hungry, and wondering how and where I could find lunch. As usual, the good fairies of aviation waved their magic wand. There, in a hangar adjacent to the FBO, was a guy serving good old-fashioned Wisconsin brats, complete with a dog named Jake who seemed eager to join me for lunch. Unfortunately for Jake, I was very hungry and did not share, although he did give it his doggy best.
I went back for a second one, and much to Jake’s dismay, I still did not share.
Departing DLL, I headed straight to Endeavor Bridge to start the arrival. I verified my altimeter setting, descended to 1,800 feet MSL, and slowed to 90 knots. The arrival corridor was not that busy, with only a few other aircraft visible or displayed via ADS-B. Making my way to Ripon, then up the tracks to Fisk, I was laser focused on staying on speed and at altitude, while scanning for traffic and keeping an eye on my outs if things went bad.
Approaching Fisk, I was asked to rock my wings (Yes!), and then given a right turn and reminder to keep the microwave tower off my right wing. Ahead of me, I saw it — the show grounds, shining in the sunshine like a midsummer dream. I switched to tower as instructed, listening and building my mental picture of the situation.
What better way to arrive than being told there was a DC-3 on right downwind to base for 36L, keep it above them, cleared to land on the red square on 36R (the “skinny runway”). It sounds crazy, but it worked perfectly — I stayed high, they descended, and I landed by the red square as instructed. (What? No dot?)
I apologize for being too literal, as ATC told me to keep my speed up and roll to the end, which I did. This resulted in me holding short of 9/27 and having to turn around again. Sorry folks, I did what you asked even if it’s not what you meant. “Progressive taxi, please.”
As I taxied in to homebuilt parking and shut down, the wonderful volunteer gave me the parking spot I asked for. I reveled in the moment — I made it to AirVenture again, in an airplane I built, across the country I love. What incredible freedom we have!
The marshaler came up and out came those magic words we all love to hear: “Welcome to Oshkosh!”