I stood upon the spot from which powered flight began.
I could feel the tingle of excitement, the rush of fear, the realization that this was it – the time to fly - that Orville Wright had to have experienced that day. December 17th, 1903.
Of course I had read about the length of these flights, but the distances, and how short they were, is brought graphically to life with these granite markers, commemorating each one. (Phot taken from launch point)
The weather was warm, but very wet. Rain squalls moved through with regularity some so hard that those with umbrellas or plastic ponchos sought shelter. But nothing stopped visitors for long. People walked the “flight line”, climbed the hill to walk around the monument, and wandered in and out of the two visitor centers. One featured a life size replica of the Wright Flyer. In this photo you can see Path parked on the edge of the taxiway outside.
The other center was to commemorate the 100th anniversary of flight and featured the planning, building and flights of a reproduction Flyer. Outside is a wonderful series of statues depicting the first flight. Here is Murphette ready to go with Orville.
On top of one of the tallest of the dunes at Kill Devil Hills they built a monument to flight. But first they had to stabilize shifting sands with plants and grasses. Now the sand dune where the Wrights tested theories with gliders is a solid hill with paved paths leading upward to the summit. I joined the devoted who climbed to stand and marvel at this place.
With weather not conducive to flight, I settled in for the night. At dawn the joggers arrived, their silhouettes black against the monument as they jogged past then down the path from the summit. To them merely a challenging run..did they not sense the majesty of where they trod?
To my pilot friends, I say – make the pilgrimage. To those who travel on land – come and learn what makes flyers so devoted to aviation.
Thursday Sep 22nd
Dodging military Restricted Areas, huge towers, clouds and rain squalls I flew across North Carolina seeking the Atlantic Ocean.
I’d left Atlanta the day before, liftoff at 3:15…much later than I liked, due of course, to low clouds. Here is Fulton County Airport on the west side of Atlanta.
Even though I’d had a lovely long visit with my friends, it was hard to leave them, especially their precious daughter who had begun to call me G-ma Joyce. What an honor. The bear in this picture is “Murphette” named in honor of the couple who gave her to me as a mascot for this trip.
10:25 I’m passing Augusta, read about and now seen then over the Savannah river into North Carolina 8th new state on this trip.
5:10 I arrive in Orangeburg, South Carolina and decide to stay the night. With Path tied securely and armed with map and recommendation, I drive into town for dinner and a room. Spent so much time seeking a souvenir keychain for my son who collects them that it is soon too late for a big sit down meal. I spot Chick-fil-a and remember being told that this chain is a “must try” while in the south. Approaching the door I spot ..a cow and remember that cows are the spokespersons for their ads. Tourist, so must ask for a picture
– the cow is delighted as is his attendant who escorts me inside where I’m introduced to the owner and his wife who are excited to make suggestions as to the ideal choices from the menu. It turns out they are having an “eat breakfast for dinner” event so servers are wearing PJ’s!
With a bag of treats in hand I return to my room at The Southern Lodge on St Matthews Rd (I promised the very nice owner to give him a mention as his place was very reasonable, clean and comfortable.) Settled in and ready to eat and relax I enjoy mini chicken biscuits, made with real, not processed, chicken and tiny cinnamon buns which are not overly sweet. Hand squeezed lemonade rounds out my less than standard, but oh so delicious dinner. Then the floor show starts. Huge cracks of thunder drag me out the door where, with other guests, I watch nature’s entertainment for several minutes as lightning streaks and thunder rolls. Sure hope this isn’t over the airport I think, concerned for Path sitting out on the tarmac. But that was just the beginning. Thirty minutes later the rain arrives…and boy howdy! I opened the door again, and stayed inside, as to do otherwise would provide me with a second shower. Rain in buckets – no barrels, blowing in waves. Waterfalls from overflowing eaves, the walkway a river threatening to flow inside onto the carpet. I looked briefly, took a photo, and retreated. Hmmm maybe I shouldn’t have wished Path could have a bath!
Morning is clearer than I’d expected, so wish I hadn’t elected to sleep in and be lazy. 9:25 when a wet Path lifts off. 25 nm later we’re over the Santee Wildlife Preserve along Lake Marion, with light rain.
Which brings us back to the beginning of today’s tale – flying at 1,200, under clouds avoiding things best avoided. I do manage to note that this is lovely country with farms, lots of trees, homes on large lots, lots of brick buildings. At last land gives in to water as I cross the Alligator River
Then Albemarle Sound
And there, just across Roanoke sound, past that little strip of sunlit land, is my goal… Atlantic Ocean and an airport called First Flight.
While I'm enjoying my time and friends here in Atlanta, my feet are itching and Path is tugging at his tie downs, anxious to be flying. We were ready to go yesterday, but predicted rain came with ceilings too low for flying. I could have considered a late start but circumstances came into play. There are IFR conditions this morning, but I am confident that, like yesterday, the clouds will rise and I'll be on my way East.
I did get my "states landed in" map updated, but it sized funny. Blogs do not always do what we want them to do!
Thursday AM.
Ready to depart from Picayune, MS. With a major reminder of Washington the fog has moved in and I wait. Andy (The airport manager) and Dianna the office manager ask the usual question "Where are you from?" With the help of a handy US wall map I point out my starting point in WA and my route through the south, up the coast, and across to MN. They made the mistake of talking aviation, so I told them many of my stories and about my flying adventures from the past. Next thing I knew Andy had called the local newspaper and a reporter arrived to interview me and take pictures. 15 minutes of fame.
10:30. Finally! Holes! I'm pre-flighting and a man approaches, thinking he is just been sent out to meet me, I greet him and am surprised when he reaches out his hand and flips open a wallet...displaying a shiny gold shield! That wallet flip was just like in the movies, he must have practiced to get it so good. I was being ramp checked! The look on his face was priceless when I responded with "Oh boy! I'm being Ramped!" For those who are not pilots, let me clue you in - being ramped is a thing to be feared. The FAA can ground a plane or pilot for many reasons. This man required that I show him my pilots license, proof of current medical, and a variety of paperwork for the plane - registration, certification, etc. He then walked around the plane for an inspection. Should he have found anything amiss at any point - the trip would be been over or seriously delayed. I cheerfully provided all that was required and exalted in having, finally, after 8 years of holding it, having the opportunity to show my license.
Leaving MS I planned to go to Florida, but flying over the top out did not find predicted clear skies to the east, so I abandoned FL and turned northward into Alabama. Found some good holes and under I went - finding myself lower than would be prudent in places with hills, so I landed at the first airport I reached in Elba, AL - Foley field 14J. Met by the nicest bunch of southern gentlemen who could not believe my desire to stay in their pilot lounge for the night. I think the need to provide hospitality was making them crazy. I however, being a veteran of pilot lounges enjoyed the free accommodations and an opportunity to relax and read..no internet available though my Android tried and tried.
Friday AM.
I succumbed to an invitation to go to breakfast at a local cafe where I enjoyed good conversation, grits and biscuits. Yes,grits are very good.
My breakfast companion, TJ and his adorable dog, Slim.
Slim is ready to go!
Lifted off at 9:30, after taking time for a long walk. Saw tons of green and growing and did not recognize a single plant and the only familiar tree a pine. The dirt at Folsom is red, just under a layer of white beach sand. Lots of these ant hills with red ants the same color as the dirt and very tiny. Looked a lot like home, at first but the differences are there in plenty.
Folsom Field
My next stop is Molton 06A, in Tuskegee, AL. Arrived at 10:20. Molton field is where the airmen learned to fly. Piloting my own Path onto that ground was a feeling I cannot find words to describe. Again, I was greeted like a missing relative and told to "make myself at home." I know I've mentioned this a lot, but the level of welcome here in the south is worth expounding upon. The museum doesn't have much in the way of things, but the telling of the story is done imaginatively and with recordings of the actual pilots, instructors and mechanics. The museum is housed in the old original hangar and again, I felt moved to walk where those long ago young men and women did.
On to Atlanta, Georgia, Fulton County Field FTY. To be honest, I was a bit apprehensive to fly into this highly congested area, not being at all familiar. Atlanta approach was accommodating, and Fulton appeared out of the clutter of buildings, roads, river and a huge amusement park as if highlighted. I noted that for the first time in days, there are small mountains, well hills, but easily visible above surrounding terrain. Touchdown 1:00 pm. Weather is cool, I'll be wearing jeans tomorrow. Hate to admit it but I'm ...missing rain! Will be here in Atlanta for the weekend at least, exploring this city that from what I've seen so far, is going to be an eyeful.
This morning had to wait for overcast to clear! I guess morning clouds can find me anywhere. Lifted off at 7:45 with a ground temp of 90. At 6,000 temp a comfortable 65 and the holes are getting bigger.
Houston. 10:45
What a thrill to be flying over this city I’ve heard about in story and song. Talked to Houston approach and requested a transition right over the George Bush International airport IAH.
Approaching Houston the terrain started to change. Rivers with water, several large lakes. Heavy haze so I determine to fly lower hoping for better visibility. It worked, with haze clearing as I descended over the next 60 nm onto Hawthorne 45R in Silsbe TX. Hawthorne offered a challenging direct cross wind of 11 gusting to 14. On the ground, waiting to greet me was Alton. A wonderful southern gentleman with a quick sense of humor. Escorting me to the office he told me some of his story and eagerly encouraged me to stay and visit awhile. I took longer than I’d planned, because I could not resist getting to know Alton, just a bit. He worked for years as an emergency dispatcher, but his muscular myopathy rendered his hands unable to type. He could no longer perform the service he took pride in. But while challenged, he is not the least bit despondent . Instead he makes the best of things and is learning about planes working at the airport. Flying away I found myself wishing I had decided to change my goal for the day and simply spend the afternoon in Hawthorne. I’m going to have to learn to relax and not be so focused on daily distance goals, but rather embrace opportunities that arise.
Thank you Alton, for brightening my afternoon!
12:35 Louisiana.
Flying at 4,000, a comfy 70 degrees and just a bit of bounce. The terrain is all green trees, rivers and lakes. I’m aware that I feel more comfortable over this terrain, and realize it’s more like home in Washington. Just before making a stop at St Landry Parish OPL in Opelousas farms begin to pop up.
It's thrilling to spot Lake Pontchartrain, and fly past Baton Rouge. New territory!
2:40 Mississippi.
Picayune MJD is located just outside town of same name. A beautiful airport with another southern gentlemen that zips out on the golf cart to fuel my plane $5.20 a gallon. Not as good as Hondo’s $4.75, but still good for these times. Humid and upper 70’s. I’m handed the keys to a grand old Lincoln Towncar with a good air conditioner. With directions and a town map I find a motel with a pool and am happily settled in after a beautiful day of flying.
