Back in the Air

Path is back in his hangar. I hurried to the airport on Tuesday to make what I call a shakedown flight. I always do this following an annual, to make sure everything is just right. It felt so good to be back in the air, where I belong. One of the reasons that repairs on that Turn Coordinator were so expensive is because it has a connection to the auto pilot. I was told the auto pilot didn’t work when I bought the plane, but it didn’t matter to me as I prefer hand-flying anyway. Apparently this failing coordinator was the problem. I now have an operational auto pilot – bonus! I expect to continue doing most of my flying without mechanical help, but just once in a while it might be useful. After making five touch n go’s and seeing what it was like to act like a passenger while the plane flew itself, I made my final landing (which was near perfect) and put 45 minutes in my log book. All was well with plane and pilot. Good weather predicted for next day, ready for a real flight.

Wednesday morning started out with heavy fog – ¼ mile visibility on the ground. Just to the north – clear, blue and sunshine; same to the south. Frustrating and so typical. Then between 10:30 and 10:50 poof! – fog gone – It’s Mother Nature’s magic trick. I filled out paperwork for an hour’s vacation and thought about to where I would fly when 4:00 came around.

I’ve flown around every bit of Mt Rainier on many flights, yet the pull she exerts is strong. I announced my intention to depart the runway with a turnout to the east and as soon as we were high enough– there she was. Brilliant white in the lowering sun, sharply outlined against blue blue sky.
“Here I come Lady Tahoma, will you welcome me today?”

Mount Tahoma was her original name, and a glacier and small peak on her southeast side still retain these names in the form of Tahoma Glacier and Little Tahoma. The welcome I was inquiring about is my own way of describing flight conditions near mountains. Sometimes wind and air are smooth and soft and the mountain seems to say “Welcome. Come and fly as close as you wish.” On those days my plane skims her ridges, soaring softly over her glaciers so closely I can see blue ice. Her massive bulk fills my windows completely. Other times as we climb up to her feet, as a gnat to an elephant, she sternly rebuffs our overture with a slap of wind and turbulence. At those times, I turn quickly away and admire her from a distance. This was one of those times, I had to be content with a cautious circumnavigation that still provided me with some sights so beautiful, incredible, lovely that I need another language to use that has more superlatives to accurately describe. These photos can only hint at what it feels like to pilot your plane past this Lady with the setting sun glowing behind her.
Now this last shot is something I'd not seen before. It's the shadow of Mt Rainier reflecting on the haze to the east!