The Great Canine Escape

After a few hours of telephone tag on Friday, everything fell into place: Rich had successfully signed up his plane, The Baron, to participate in an animal rescue flight from North Carolina to New York, a reporter for the Washingtonian wanted to go along and cover the story, and there was still room for me to join.

Rich had agreed to fly Victor, a 78 pound German Shepherd from Rowan County, NC (KRUG) to Frederick, Maryland (KFDK). Another pilot would then take him the rest of the way to New York (KMGJ). The day dawned clear and cold, and the air was smooth, making for a pretty hour and a half flight.

As we flew, we answered Jessica's questions - which ranged from Civil Air Patrol (CAP) to Animal Rescue Flights (ARF) to navigational aids - and otherwise generally tried to infuse her with our love of flying.

We had a bit of a headwind on the way down, and arrived at KRUG (Salisbury, NC) to find an assortment of pilots, dogs, rescue workers, and even one Carolina Channel 14 crewman on the scene. News Channel 14 has since run their story. (Click on the underlined word "story" to go to their webpage.) Rich and his plane - N285PT - get featured, and don't forget to look for the co-pilot in the orange hat too! (I registered with ARF last night, so next time Rich and I can tag team fly.)

16 dogs in total were being moved on Saturday from a shelter in South Carolina that would have euthanized them (as hard as it was to believe, given their incredibly sweet temperaments and appearances, these dogs were all on "death row") to a shelter, Pets Alive, in New York that will not euthanize them and is predicting a good chance of placing them in homes. The dogs were all very excited to get out of the van and socialize, making it a bit of a challenge for folks holding onto their leashes to stay untangled!

I wanted to take the fluffy mini St. Bernard, on the right below, home with me. After one pilot had to pull out, we ended up picking up an extra passenger, Nina, below on the left.

While we waited for everyone to get organized, Rich took a couple of them for a run to expend some energy. I tried to take Nina for a run, but she ended up "sliding" more than she was "running" and so we decided to stop doing that.

Victor was a big softy, who liked to jump up on his hind legs so you could hold him and rub his face. He was not much for "heeling", however, and so he walked me more than I walked him as he checked out the various sniffing points of interest around the airport.

With Victor in a crate in the baggage hold, and Nina on my lap, Jessica took the front seat for a better view and a detailed explanation of all the airplane instruments.

Nina was a great passenger, and settled down once we were airborn. It wasn't long before my 5 a.m. morning caught up with me and I was dozing too. We had a faster ride back to Frederick (just North of our home base of Gaithersburg) as a tailwind pushed us along.

When we arrived, Nina pulled an "Eddie" - standing up on my knees to watch inquisitively as Rich touched The Baron down and taxied into the airport. (To see more photos of The Great Escape (2/21/09 rescue) check out ARF's website.)

Although we had been the last to leave RUQ by about 30 minutes, the Baron overtook two of the planes in the air (it's not a competition, except that we won, eh?), so we introduced Nina and Victor to the pilots who would be flying them on to New York and waited for the others to arrive. AOPA was on site, as were the founders of ARF, and pilots were asked to pose with their passengers before handing them off.

Between pilots, friends and four legged passengers, it was quite an impressive turnout! Once we had finished posing for the below group shot, Rich, Jessica and I made a hasty retreat to the airport cafe for a late lunch. From Frederick, we went to Tipton so Rich could take advantage of the lower gas prices and refuel the Baron. As we took off for the fourth time in under eight hours, we teased Jessica that she had gone from a newbie to a seasoned general aviation passenger. She assured us that she was still impressed with the thrill of flying, and we are hopeful that will come through in her story in the Washingtonian.

All in all, it was the kind of day that makes you very glad to be a pilot.

(Since posting this, a few folks have asked me about donations. Pets Alive, the shelter that took these 16 little guys, accepts donations.)

Bahamas Bound

Last Thursday was one of the longest working days I've experienced in a while. Not because of client emergencies, demanding bosses, or working through my lunch break -- it's just mighty hard to concentrate when you know you're going to be heading to the airport at 6 p.m. and flying to Florida in a Beechcraft Baron with three of your friends.

Rich and I have yet to agree on exactly who brings the bad weather luck when we fly together, but forecast 29 knot gusts almost kept us on the ground. However, after talking through the possibility of "pulling a Montreal" (i.e., leave at O'Dark'Thirty the following morning) we decided that the Baron (and its pilot extraordinaire) could handle the crosswinds and convinced Mila and Danielle that they could handle the turbulence.

We tried to get into Dulles to pick up Mila, but the controller wanted to hold us for 30 minutes, so Rich did a great crosswind landing at Leesburg instead. We used the time on the ground to change, get some caffeine and sugar, and were soon airborne. The turbulence eased up after just a few thousand feet, and Rich set the autopilot for a beautifully clear 3.3 hour flight to KCRG. We discussed the art of celestial navigation, our hotel arrangements, engine out procedures on twins, and apparently Mila and Danielle eventually fell asleep to the sounds of Rich and I discussing instrument flying (which, to be fair, will put almost anyone to sleep).

After a long march to our hotel (1 mile from the airport was decidedly false advertising) we decided to forgo the four hour sleep we were initially contemplating in the hopes that Danielle might make a 9 a.m. certification scuba dive on Friday morning, and set our alarm for 8 a.m.

We were in the air before 11, and the excitement was electrifying. (Okay, okay. Rich just enjoys making funny faces for the camera and where we go one, we go all, so...)

We followed the coastline most of the way, using waypoints to keep us out of NASA's restricted airspace. In case you don't speak Rich, "over there, is where the space shuttles go up."

Heading into the sun, the camera picked up more haze than the naked eye, but the pictures still turned out pretty well.

This next shot is looking back at the NASA runway and launch area.

It wasn't long before we were crossing the intercoastal waterway for the last time and heading East to the Bahamas. Miami Center (air traffic control) dropped us after we passed the second international ADIZ, and when we hailed the Bahamas, we were informed they don't have radar coverage beyond Nassau, so it was a quiet run out to the islands.

The first views appeared off to the left. Shallower waters made for incredible colours of blue. I played with my Garmin, while Rich used the charts, and we identified islands and markers as we sailed along.

I think this next shot is of Great Sale Cay (pronounced Key).

I forget which pictures were taken as we were passing through the Bermuda Triangle (on Friday the 13th, no less!) but this next one is as good a guess as any.

A lot of the islands have runways, and island hopping all the way to Turks and Cacaos was discussed for a future trip when we have a little more time to play with.

When we were about forty miles from Treasure Cay, which is where Grand Marsh Harbour airport (MYAM) is located, the weather changed drastically. Rich cut through a hole in the clouds to stay under the ceiling, which darkened quickly as rain began to fall.

Coming into MYAM, we teased Danielle that she had picked the storm island, and queried why she hadn't selected one 40 miles to the East or West where it was still bright and sunny. I thought Grand Guano Cay sounded particularly enticing.

By the time we got the Baron on the ground, the rain had stopped falling and the skies had lightened again. Customs was relatively painless - although we were admonished from bringing in carrots and apples, just to make sure we had really learned our lesson, they let us take them with us anyway. We were soon piling into a taxi cab and off to our condo. The views from the balcony were incredible. After a little pre-gaming, we headed to a local beer store to purchase some local wares, and then stopped so that Danielle and I could make nice with the locals.

After a great gnocchi dinner courtesy of Rich, we found our way to Snappas and enjoyed a local band. We later traded views and bands for the views and band at Mangoes. Or was it Curly Tails? So many watering holes, so hard to remember. We laughed at Danielle on Saturday morning, who had to drag herself off for a 9 a.m. certification dive. Rich, Mila and I spent a couple hours recovering on our beach before making our way to the ferry to Hopetown.

I couldn't resist taking some artsy shots before we climbed aboard en route to Hopetown. Rich struck up a conversation on the ferry with Gavin, a chatty Aussie, who berated us for staying in Marsh Harbour instead of Hopetown because "there is so much more to do in Hopetown." After disembarking, Rich attempted to pin Gavin down on the details of all there was to see and do in Hopetown. We ultimately deduced that we should walk around and check out the beaches and the houses.

We stopped for lunch on a coastal bluff, and I managed to persuade two adorable island children to hold still long enough for a photo. The blond one wasn't convinced, but her friend managed to catch her in a solid hug, and I snapped a quick photo.

We decided to see Gavin a beach and raise him a lighthouse. With our trusty, pastel coloured cartoon map, we figured it couldn't be that hard to find the lighthouse that we had seen so prominently across the bay as our ferry docked. However, after several hours of walking, we ultimately found ourselves at an abandoned resort and trying to ask directions from a local who spoke the island dialect (some sort of derivation from French) and very little English. Turning around seemed like the prudent thing to do -- until we saw a sign for ice cream, and then it made more sense to get ice cream and continue on to the Abaco Inn, where we hopped a courtesy van back to Hopetown.

By the time we arrived back at the condo, Danielle was just about to set the signal flares. We ate, changed, and headed back to Snappas, which was rumoured to have the best Valentine's Day bash in town. The band was great and time was sucked into a void (which apparently only happens around me, according to Rich) and suddenly the music stopped and it was time to go to bed.

Rich and I suffered along with Danielle on Saturday morning, as we all made our way over to the dive store to get suited up. Our first stop was a reef called "The Edge," where the dive shops have the grouper fish so well trained, you can pet them, manipulate them, and (environmentally conscious people please stop reading now) even put a dive mask on them (as Keith, our dive master, demonstrated). We hung out behind "the armadillo" coral formation for a group shot. I'm on the far left, Danielle is beside me, and Rich is on the far right. But I'm sure you would have known that.

Our second dive was at "the Towers" and I hung out with Keith at the end of the dive to check out a particularly large barracuda. He doesn't look as evil in this shot as I remembered...

Sunday night was relatively quiet, so we enjoyed an excellent seafood dinner at the local marina and then met up with some guys from our dive and invited them back to our condo for a while.

Monday was bright and sunny, and it was physically painful to have to leave. We had risen early for one last hour on the beach, packed with a speed that would have impressed a Colonel, and were wheels up at 11:30.

We cleared customs in Fort Pierce with minor headache. I couldn't decide if I was annoyed or pleased that after spending hours figuring out my visa obligations before we left, the customs official told me to "just use your old [visa]."

The airport restaurant was a short walk from customs, and after two FBOs haggled themselves into an even better deal for us, we left the Baron to be refueled while we got lunch. Rich showed me how to use the "great deal finder" for gas, and we selected an airport (KONX) in North Carolina with 100 LL for $2.85/G as our next stopping point.

We fought nearly 30 knot headwinds all the way home, so it was somewhat slow going. I studied approach plates until I stopped retaining information, played with my Garmin, and took photographs instead of helping Rich look for traffic. It's nice to be the co-pilot.

The sun set as we flew over North Carolina, and we made an executive decision at KONX to just refuel and continue on for Gaithersburg instead of stopping for dinner.

The temperature had plummeted drastically by the time we got out at Currituck - so I traded helping with the fuel pumps for Rich's Banff sweater vest - and it was not without a twinge of irony that we discussed how we had voluntarily decided to fly from a tropical paradise to sub-zero temperatures and biting winds.

I got to put some of my multi engine theory lessons into practice as we approached Gaithersburg, and turned us into the pattern, dropped flaps, engaged the landing gear, and lined us up for the landing. It wasn't a huge mental leap after my lessons in the Cherokee, but I was very glad for my booster seat as it increased my range of vision drastically. There, I said it. I flew with a booster seat.
Rich touched her down, and we were soon all heading for home. As they said on our dive, take only memories and photographs. I can live with that.

Richmond, Yo!

It had been awhile since I'd done a solo cross-country flight, so I was looking forward to Saturday's escapade to Richmond to visit Shivi for the weekend. I flight planned carefully, as watching the crash scenes in Speed & Angels had humbled me somewhat. I decided to go West and skirt the protected airspace around Dulles International before heading South to Hanover County Airport, which is situated just North of Richmond International.

Since Greg's instrument lesson was called off unexpectedly, I was airborne shortly after 1. (Not before imploring him - unsuccessfully, of course - to return Tiny Tiger, who went missing after I foolishly left him in the plane before Greg and Jodie's trip to Tennessee a few weeks ago).

I used the Lucke and Jasen intersections as rough waypoints for my route, which turned me southwest before crossing the first ridge of mountains West of Gaithersburg. There was a significant amount of mountain wave turbulence even at a distance, so I was glad that my route of flight had not been directly over them.

Being alone gave me a chance to practice using the plane's NAV/COM instruments and to think through various in-air emergency procedures, which felt good. As I sailed along, I noticed that lakes were still frozen, but I doubt that will be the case for much longer. I love the fact that once winter is gone in this part of the world, it rarely makes a reappearance. No mid-March snow dumps in Virginia!

As I was tying down the Tiger at Hanover, I realized that the Gaithersburg baggage handler for Tigress Air deserved a very stern talking to. Somehow, the overnight bag that I had so diligently packed had remained in the trunk of my car while I had flown away! Shivi and I were thus forced to spend the afternoon shopping for new clothes. It was truly awful.

Afterwards, we had a fun night out on the town. We stumbled across a blind date bar night gameshow and the tail end of a democratic party gathering. Although we were tired, Sunday morning was simply too beautiful to stay inside. After a Thai "brunch" we went in search of the James River. We found it, and walked out on a bridge for a proper view. It looked a little treacherous, but I still wished I'd had my kayak.

I checked the wind before we headed out, and saw that it was predicted to be around 17 with gusts up to 29 knots most of the day. It was more or less down the runway at Gaithersburg, so I could have landed, but Shivi was happy for me to spend the day, so I decided to plan my flight home to land around sunset when the winds usually die down. I took off at 4:45 and called Potomac Approach for flight following 25 miles North of Hanover. The moon was already out.

When I got handed off to the second controller, he asked me if I was looking for a Bravo Clearance. It took me so by surprise that I responded something like, "Uh, no. I'm fine." I soon got handed off to another controller. I started descending from 4500 feet to 2500 to prepare to get under the Bravo shelf. Suddenly, the controller came on and said, "Grumman Tiger 28244, Hold 2500, I'm working on a Bravo Clearance for you." It wasn't really a question. The next time he hailed me, it was with a vectoring of 030. And just like that, I had my first Bravo clearance and was heading into the heart of a large number of squiggly lines that I typically try to avoid. Every five minutes or so, I was assigned a new vectoring along a route that threaded me between Dulles and the no fly zone around DC.

Although my heading wavered a few degrees, I couldn't help snapping photos of Dulles airport as I flew by. I was so CLOSE! As the sun set in the distance over the mountains, I was pretty chuffed. As if hearing my mental thought, "Can flying get any cooler than this?", I heard the controller call, "United XXX, you'll be overtaking a Grumman Tiger at 2500 feet."

The United Flight declared me to be "no factor," of which I was glad. Shortly thereafter, I was informed of traffic at my 2 o'clock. A Boeing 737, at 4000 feet, and we would be passing Right to Right. I had never heard that expression before watching Speed and Angels. I dutifully reported that I had the traffic in sight and repeated that we would pass Right to Right.

I crossed the Potomac with Sugarloaf mountain directly ahead of me. The controller apologized as I did so, and vectored me away from Gaithersburg for a few minutes, before giving me a direct heading and discretion to descend.

The winds were almost straight down the runway, and I touched down just as civil twilight was ending. I hustled to buckle down the Tiger before darkness fell in earnest. John came over and asked whether I had found Tiny Tiger in the plane. I explained to him that Tiny Tiger wasn't lost, he'd been kidnapped. Fortunately, though, Shivi found me a replacement mascot until the situation with Tiny Tiger has been resolved...