By Brian King, EAA 1647385, Halifax, Nova Scotia
Sometimes one gets the opportunity to withdraw a wish from your bucket list, which like many of us, for me, was overflowing.
Background: Years ago I was on a multi-week course just outside Chicago, and I was invited to drive to Oshkosh for the Saturday air show. Wonderfully busy with people and sights, BUT the sight of a sign stating “Pilots Only Beyond Here,” well, that kinda hurt. Later that fall, home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the local annual air show had a surprise guest show up in the form of a B-1 bomber making its appearance from the south [from over water (the Atlantic, with next stop Africa)] at 500 feet, 45 degree bank, full afterburner, stupid speed, and just a hint of noise that would cause a Tim Taylor “RRR-rrr-RRR.” Almost immediately after, I signed up for the show special of ground school, books, and 10 hours for $1,000 (that’s a story in and of itself).
Flash ahead 30 years, following being downsized, reinventing myself, getting married, starting a family, losing my wife to breast cancer, and raising my son solo. Yeah, life gets real, fast.
Gave up flying for near 15 years, just due to “stuff” — my place wasn’t in the air. Till, it was, and I decided to take back this part of my persona and requalified my licence (yup, another story unto itself).
Whole bunch of stories here, but I’d digress severely IF I were to start.
One of the former members in the share arrangement I happened upon (yet another story potential) asked me IF I’d like to fly with him to this year’s AirVenture (had been offered before, but that whole life thing was going full throttle). This year I had no excuse, nor did I want one — we’re going.
Two guys, one revisiting past trips, the other (me) gobsmacked in that this was really happening.
Leaving Greenwood, Nova Scotia, a two-day flight to Oshkosh saw me almost giggly nervous, but that quickly fell into routine of next mile, repeat. More like 15-minute segments, interrupted by radio checks: pulling carb heat, engine checks, ‘monitor everything’, then back to flying the airplane — became a running joke, as this simple routine act can in itself become a distraction, resulting in loss/gain of altitude, or drifting from the desired track (by a degree or two, or 20). “Fly the plane.” Add to this the ‘fun’ provided by western wildfires of visibility that did not go above 10sm for the entire trip out and return. Down, no problem, sideways, no problem, forward, WELL, not so good, so 4,500 feet it was (3,500 return).
Not bad you say, well 13.5 hours out and 10.5 return in the ‘bumps’ does get old, real quick. A very thin black line across the horizon became our horizon, double checked with the AI, often lakes and roofs became the method of navigating VFR, checked often against the HI to be sure. Not exactly instrument conditions, but any closer and I’d be uncomfortable. Constantly kept checking in with my personal minimums list — never exceeded, but also never relaxed. Edge flying, over my usual blue sky, back home, adventures.
Spent a night at a friend’s place just outside Toronto, before continuing, this time thru Customs, something I had trepidations about. It could not have been a better experience in Port Clinton. Other than the ‘wand’ passing over the airplane, and the usual questions, one of my easiest border crossings ever. Good preparation yields good results. Oh yeah, don’t bury your documents in the back (almost another story).
Routing took us around Lake Michigan to the south. Cloud deck from here to Gary saw us above the clouds at 6,500 feet for the first time. Holes on the other side got us back down under. Passing Chicago there was an active TFR around Wrigley, which had us over two miles offshore at 1,000 feet. Chatting with Chicago ATC, we were told “The TFR is more of a suggestion, just don’t dawdle.” Didn’t know “dawdle” was part of the ATC script wording. Oh yeah, that view, more of a shadowy silhouette with the smoke haze.
Fuel stop at Hartford, Wisconsin, southwest of Oshkosh — endured joking about 51st state — joked back about a maple leaf on this new flag. STOL competition going on. BBQ, good conversation, more joking. Great stop.
Got in the conga line at Puckaway Lake, about 30 miles out, a half mile in trail, 90 knots, 1,000 feet, “Good Rock” (classic bucket list thing) at FISK, instructed to turn right, follow the road, 36R, land on the red square (everyone gets to land on a dot, well we got a square, and on a taxiway to boot). Woo Hoo.
Taxi (forever) to the end of the airport (opposite Friar Tuck’s), two more rows of airplanes, then highway (BUT, less than half a mile from where the two Goodyear blimps tied up each night — should be named North 60, not North 40, its North of North).
The next week was spent walking, listening, talking, basically geeking out with MANY like-minded people. AND, NO, I never did find that sign, BUT now I was on the other side, with the pilots, so it really didn’t matter anymore. Got to chat with the MZEROA crew — highlight.
Return trip — yes, that’s yet another story. Northern route around Lake Michigan/Huron, (I’ve now seen all five Great Lakes) along the Bruce Peninsula to Toronto. Waited a day for a storm to pass, (was south of us as we departed OSH, and only an hour behind us arriving at Brampton (heard UFR and windy) then return to Greenwood next day, with a bucket of memories.
Can you do this? Well, I did. You can also. Watch videos, do research. Practise the flying. Do more research. Learn from others’ mistakes (lots of those on YouTube — The Wrong Way Guy. Helps if you have an educated partner to add guidance).
So, what do you do once there, you may ask. Having arrived Friday and the show starting Monday, we had a full weekend to rest and get acclimatized to the grounds, locating points of interest for quicker access once the grounds were full of people. Not having the trams running made for more walking, but that’s OK, the week is early (fine to think that NOW). Make use of any transport that is offered — that energy will come in handy later in the week. You certainly get your daily steps in.
Each hour throughout the day will find more than 40 possible scheduled seminars available for you to attend, running the aviation gamut of subject matter. Oil quality, self maintenance, crossing borders, photography, sheet metal work, chatting with ATC, safety… There is a massive turnout from the pilot supply community and all the players are here — you name them, they most likely have a presence. Same for manufacturers. Loads of peripheral things of interest — want an RV that’ll go anywhere and have near seven figures to spend — you’ll find it here as well.
Daily three-hour air shows and night shows on Wednesday and Saturday — simply, WOW!
Hydration isn’t an issue — plenty of water stations distributed around the grounds, no $4 water here (well, there is, but free water is easily found). Porta potties are everywhere. Food stands offered a higher quality than I was expecting, with prices not insanely high. Need to power up your devices — charging stations are abundant, and for such a huge event, I saw many devices happily charging with their owner nearby, but not guarding them — this place not only feels safe, but IS safe. Security is around, but it doesn’t feel like a police state. First aid, likewise, is nearby, and witnessing an event, quite quick and efficient to get to the scene and evacuate the person in need. Comforting to know.
Highlights for me, personally: Cardinal Flyers lunch (where I traded a carved wooden Cardinal for a cheese hat (really cool ‘other” story), EAA Canada ice cream social, international supper, and the Canadian breakfast. All people-y things. Face it, planes are really cool, but without the people who fly, maintain, service, etc., our airplanes, we got nothing.
What I did come home with, other than a bucket full of memories and a burning desire to return, was a handheld radio, which I was able to quickly evaluate against many manufacturers buying what best suited my needs, a flight bag to replace the Cabela bag I now use, and a better kneeboard. Of course, I came back with an “I landed on the …Dot” T-shirt. Everyone needs this subtle brag.
Travelling home, I got to fly the departure leg, Runway 27 heading for 5 miles at 500 feet, then en route course and discretion altitude (3,500 for most of the 10.5 hours due to wildfire smoke haze /10sm viz). Also got to fly the final leg back into Greenwood, but needed to negotiate a fog bank, which was caused by a hot humid day and cold Gulf of Maine water to produce its own IFR predicament — follow the coastline around it, which would add 40 minutes to an already exhausting day, or climb, which we did, to 7,500, where the other side could be seen, faintly. Crossed that 15 minutes of water, and descended into the smoke haze once again, landing into the sun, at home.
Note: Customs returning to Canada was as advertised. A minor event, when combined with a need for fuel, was practically a normal pit stop. Still, do your homework, make the phone calls, be prepared, and be kind.
Shoutout to all the various fuel stops we stopped at — nothing short of pure professionalism everywhere, asking us IF there was anything we required beyond the fuel, bathroom, and chow. Especial thanks to Hartford, Wisconsin, for the BBQ.
Slept like a baby for a week, but with dreams of blue skies and unlimited visibility.