Jack,
Good choice. Remember my slogan on the Tow Boat and ships in the ship channel. When In Doubt, Wait It Out.
Bob
Good choice. Remember my slogan on the Tow Boat and ships in the ship channel. When In Doubt, Wait It Out.
Bob
Tales from the Log of the Ruptured Duck
- Thread starter Kayak Jack
- Start date
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Thanks, Bob. I just called Jim with a weather abort. In the meantime, I'll just hold a little left rudder.
Julie and I will drive to Howell (where KOZW field is) and have lunch with an old buddy of mine. We went to school together, K-12. And, being semi crazy, he fits right in with any group that I associate with. Jim (the fellow who fixed up the Duck recently) will join us another time. He's busy working on a Citabria aircraft.
"Citabria" is airbatic spelled backwards. It was designed to be a tough, little bird for aerobatic flying. In appearance, it resembles a Piper Cub, but out flies it by a wide margin.
Julie and I will drive to Howell (where KOZW field is) and have lunch with an old buddy of mine. We went to school together, K-12. And, being semi crazy, he fits right in with any group that I associate with. Jim (the fellow who fixed up the Duck recently) will join us another time. He's busy working on a Citabria aircraft.
"Citabria" is airbatic spelled backwards. It was designed to be a tough, little bird for aerobatic flying. In appearance, it resembles a Piper Cub, but out flies it by a wide margin.
Love reading your reports. I can see in my mind a lot of times where you are and it brings back a lot of memories as I was born and raised in Michigan for 40 years. I still get back there just not as often as I like. Keep the reports come. If you ever run out of places to fly I have a few I can recommend. Some how i do not think yo will every run out of places up there to fly.
Kevin
Kevin
Thank you. What parts of Michigan are your haunts?
If any of you watch National Geographic channel, you may have noticed "the Fantastic Dr. Pol"? He lives 8-10 miles WNW'ly of Mount Pleasant. I hope to fly that area in the morning, if WX holds
If any of you watch National Geographic channel, you may have noticed "the Fantastic Dr. Pol"? He lives 8-10 miles WNW'ly of Mount Pleasant. I hope to fly that area in the morning, if WX holds
And So, Off We Went
If you want to fly, you watch the weather - carefully and a lot. About once or twice a month, when forecasts were gloomy, I'll wake up to bright, sunny skies. Todsy, though, I was expecting those sunny skies. And they didn't disappoint me. But, there were limits.
I'd originally wanted to fly N'ly to go see where Dr Pol lives. But, snow and ice were coming in from the southwest. Storms may advance at the pace predicted, or they may not. Sometimes, they advance much faster. My concern here was that if I went north, and the storm came faster than predicted, then I may not be able to come home into the teeth of an oncoming storm.
On the other hand, if I flew SW'ly toward the oncoming storm, I could easily turn and fly home ahead of it. And anway, there are two places about 10 miles apart that we wanted to overfly, down near the border between Michigan and Indiana. Another concern was the cold. Temperatures as we left home was 1 degree above zero. So, we wore wool next to our hides, down over that, and stout windbreakers on the outside. Julie stayed in the car while I preflighted and called for a weather briefing. And so - off we went.
Our destination was the town of Sturgis. Kirsh Air Field KIRS is there. The two targets we wanted to overfly is a lake on the west end of Union City where Julie once lived, and a restaurant near Colon where we often go for dinner. We took off about 09:45.
About 3" of snow is in the fields. All ponds are frozen, most of them solid all the way across. We did see a couple though, that must have springs or an inlet over on one side, with some open water in a small sector. Snowmobile trails are interlaced across many fields. Small foot trails and game trails run along edges of some uncultivated areas, merging into woods, crossing swales, and emerging on the far side. Small towns appear as maybe only a steeple poking up through trees. Or, atheletic fields surrounding a high school out on the edge of the town. Farmsteads are often a cluster of buildings, isolated off by themselves along a country road. Railroads roam cross country, following their own designs of following trade wherever it was over a century ago. Today, many of those bullheaded railroads are out of business, and their rights of way are now bicycle trails.
KIRS was unattended today. It took us a while to figure out an unnessarily complicated Keurig coffee maker. They seem to me an overpriced toy. Getting ready to leave, I heard gusts of 16 knots in the AWOS weather report. I didn't care to get swept off the runway, so set up for a short field take off to get into the air quickly. On climb out, another aircraft was taking off behind us.
Ground speed was a bit faster as we flew home. Lunch plans filled the conversations. "Lets just go on home, and poach some salmon." Winds at home were variable. While I was flying the downwind leg, it was a 90 degree crosswind. But, it swung around, and I ended up making a downwind landing. As we taxied in, two other aircraft took off in the opposite direction. Oops!
Well, we'd cheated death again, but it was a clumsy affair. Past time for a cup of coffee.
If you want to fly, you watch the weather - carefully and a lot. About once or twice a month, when forecasts were gloomy, I'll wake up to bright, sunny skies. Todsy, though, I was expecting those sunny skies. And they didn't disappoint me. But, there were limits.
I'd originally wanted to fly N'ly to go see where Dr Pol lives. But, snow and ice were coming in from the southwest. Storms may advance at the pace predicted, or they may not. Sometimes, they advance much faster. My concern here was that if I went north, and the storm came faster than predicted, then I may not be able to come home into the teeth of an oncoming storm.
On the other hand, if I flew SW'ly toward the oncoming storm, I could easily turn and fly home ahead of it. And anway, there are two places about 10 miles apart that we wanted to overfly, down near the border between Michigan and Indiana. Another concern was the cold. Temperatures as we left home was 1 degree above zero. So, we wore wool next to our hides, down over that, and stout windbreakers on the outside. Julie stayed in the car while I preflighted and called for a weather briefing. And so - off we went.
Our destination was the town of Sturgis. Kirsh Air Field KIRS is there. The two targets we wanted to overfly is a lake on the west end of Union City where Julie once lived, and a restaurant near Colon where we often go for dinner. We took off about 09:45.
About 3" of snow is in the fields. All ponds are frozen, most of them solid all the way across. We did see a couple though, that must have springs or an inlet over on one side, with some open water in a small sector. Snowmobile trails are interlaced across many fields. Small foot trails and game trails run along edges of some uncultivated areas, merging into woods, crossing swales, and emerging on the far side. Small towns appear as maybe only a steeple poking up through trees. Or, atheletic fields surrounding a high school out on the edge of the town. Farmsteads are often a cluster of buildings, isolated off by themselves along a country road. Railroads roam cross country, following their own designs of following trade wherever it was over a century ago. Today, many of those bullheaded railroads are out of business, and their rights of way are now bicycle trails.
KIRS was unattended today. It took us a while to figure out an unnessarily complicated Keurig coffee maker. They seem to me an overpriced toy. Getting ready to leave, I heard gusts of 16 knots in the AWOS weather report. I didn't care to get swept off the runway, so set up for a short field take off to get into the air quickly. On climb out, another aircraft was taking off behind us.
Ground speed was a bit faster as we flew home. Lunch plans filled the conversations. "Lets just go on home, and poach some salmon." Winds at home were variable. While I was flying the downwind leg, it was a 90 degree crosswind. But, it swung around, and I ended up making a downwind landing. As we taxied in, two other aircraft took off in the opposite direction. Oops!
Well, we'd cheated death again, but it was a clumsy affair. Past time for a cup of coffee.
A Weather Rock
A couple of months ago, I constructed a weather rock. It's an easy job, I did it in under an hour. I tied a loop in one end of a 3' cord, and then tightened it around a rock.
Today, I plan to hang it up on my hangar door. A set of directions accompany the basic rock, and tell one how to use it.
Observe rock. If it is:
WET then it's raining
SWINGING then the wind is blowing
STANDING STRAIGHT OUT ON THE STRING then the wind is really blowing
WHITE then it's probably snowing - or, maybe frosty
CAN'T BE SEEN then it's either foggy or dark
JUMPING UP AND DOWN there's an earthquake
GONE someone took it
This is not an official replacement for the little Dutch girl vs the witch.
A couple of months ago, I constructed a weather rock. It's an easy job, I did it in under an hour. I tied a loop in one end of a 3' cord, and then tightened it around a rock.
Today, I plan to hang it up on my hangar door. A set of directions accompany the basic rock, and tell one how to use it.
Observe rock. If it is:
WET then it's raining
SWINGING then the wind is blowing
STANDING STRAIGHT OUT ON THE STRING then the wind is really blowing
WHITE then it's probably snowing - or, maybe frosty
CAN'T BE SEEN then it's either foggy or dark
JUMPING UP AND DOWN there's an earthquake
GONE someone took it
This is not an official replacement for the little Dutch girl vs the witch.
I haven't thought about the Little Dutch Girl and the Witch in eleventy eight years. I was a kid the last time I saw one. Thanks for shaking the memory tree Jack. Not exactly flying weather today from what I saw this morning.
Stay Warm
Bob
Stay Warm
Bob
Julie, And The 99s
Sometimes, you just stumble into things. Yesterday, I saw good flying weather forecasted for this morning. So, we got up early this morning and worked through a frozen preflight. We took off at 09:26 and headed N'Wly to Ionia Airfield Y70. The lady who works there, Maggie, is spring-loaded to a talkative position. Last summer, I had to get a wrecking bar to pry her and Julie apart, they were that deep into conversation.
Today, Julie was asking about getting a tee shirt with "Chicks FLY" on it. The conversation led to a contact in Florida for the shirt, wandered into 2,500 mile air races that Maggie had flown in, side slipped into alternators and regulators that broke - crippling Maggie's Cessna Cardinal, and spread wide across some of her flying friends.
Maggie is a member of the 99s, a club exclusively for women pilots. Amelia Earheart was the first president. Now here is an incentive for Julie to get it in gear. Aye god, I hope she goes and gets it.
Oh - we made two landings and cheated death on both of them. Quite a lot better on one than the other.
Sometimes, you just stumble into things. Yesterday, I saw good flying weather forecasted for this morning. So, we got up early this morning and worked through a frozen preflight. We took off at 09:26 and headed N'Wly to Ionia Airfield Y70. The lady who works there, Maggie, is spring-loaded to a talkative position. Last summer, I had to get a wrecking bar to pry her and Julie apart, they were that deep into conversation.
Today, Julie was asking about getting a tee shirt with "Chicks FLY" on it. The conversation led to a contact in Florida for the shirt, wandered into 2,500 mile air races that Maggie had flown in, side slipped into alternators and regulators that broke - crippling Maggie's Cessna Cardinal, and spread wide across some of her flying friends.
Maggie is a member of the 99s, a club exclusively for women pilots. Amelia Earheart was the first president. Now here is an incentive for Julie to get it in gear. Aye god, I hope she goes and gets it.
Oh - we made two landings and cheated death on both of them. Quite a lot better on one than the other.
That would be neat Jack. Get her up to speed then you would have to fight for the controls. You will have someone to help row the boat. Let us know what she decides.
Bob
Bob
Ok, my rural education is about to show me up! What is "the little Dutch girl and the witch" ? Google doesn't know and I guess my Grandparents didn't bring her to Kansas.
Andy
Andy
A plastic plaque, looking like a house front with a gabled roof and two front doors. Inside is a linen string, hanging vertically. The string is afixed at its upper end, and hanging on the bottom is a horizontal crossbar platform. The crossbar is free to rotate a few degrees. Standing on one end of the cross bar is a Dutch boy and girl. On the other end is a witch.
As the relative humidity changes ahead of a weather change, the linen string reacts by either winding a bit tighter, or unwinding a bit. This action rotates the crossbar, and either the girl and boy emerge from a door, predicting good weather, or the crossbar rotates in the opposite direction to swing out the witch.
Actually, if left exposed to outdoor air (but not rain) it's fairly accurate.
As a side note, had I been successful in actually hanging my weather rock the other day, it would be gone by now. Wind is about 40-50 mph right now
As the relative humidity changes ahead of a weather change, the linen string reacts by either winding a bit tighter, or unwinding a bit. This action rotates the crossbar, and either the girl and boy emerge from a door, predicting good weather, or the crossbar rotates in the opposite direction to swing out the witch.
Actually, if left exposed to outdoor air (but not rain) it's fairly accurate.
As a side note, had I been successful in actually hanging my weather rock the other day, it would be gone by now. Wind is about 40-50 mph right now
Thanks for the little Dutch girl explanation. That sounds like something fun to try to duplicate. Your weather rock reminded me, the Valentine Nebraska airport used to have a log chain hanging from a crossbar with a sign that said “if this chain is horizontal it’s too windy to fly”. I remember (one embarrassing day) sitting on the runway pointed into the wind in a 65 hp Aeronica waiting for someone to come to hold the airplane down so I could to turn off the runway. Learned a lot about judgement that day!
Stiff winds have helped me learn judgement a bit better too. There's likely still more work to be done in that field, though. I went to the hangar this morning. I borrowed an electronic gadget to sight on the back of the prop and fead actual RPM, so I could build a correction card for the tach (Like for a whiskey compass). It seems to be reading a might low. Or, maybe my prop has a steeper pitch than standard. 24kt gusts didabused me of that notion.
Those little weather stations used to sell in hardwares, etc. I'll googleize for a source.
Andy, I'm glad to hear you flew the small stuff too. Where I wander astray, you can correct me. (NOTE: while, once in a while, I may exaggerate a teensy weensy bit - all stories about strafing jackelopes and dragons are true).
Those little weather stations used to sell in hardwares, etc. I'll googleize for a source.
Andy, I'm glad to hear you flew the small stuff too. Where I wander astray, you can correct me. (NOTE: while, once in a while, I may exaggerate a teensy weensy bit - all stories about strafing jackelopes and dragons are true).
Tachometer Calibration
The tachometer (tach) on the Duck has always seemed to report readings that seemed low. It s like the old, cable-driven speedometers we had on our first cars years ago. On the face of it, there could be several reasons for this.
An instrument provides an "indication". It may be so accurate as to be considered "actual", but not very often. Usually, it is sufficiently close to suffice (close enuff fer guvmint werk). So, one reason for low rpm readings is instrument error. In this case, I would expect "indication" to be under "actual".
Another possibility is a prop that has a pitch steeper than what Cessna and Continental (engine manufacturer) had originally agreed to. It's a fixed pitch prop, so I can't control how big a bite it takes. If it takes a little bite, the engine's job is easier, and it can rev up faster. A larger bite of air will slow down the engine.
And, of course, it could be a combination of both of those conditions. Or, something else altogether that we haven't yet thought of.
Today, after we returned from a short flight to Charlotte KFPK, we did a calibration check. Dan had loaned me a little electronic chronograph, or metronome, or meter of some other name. Set engine speed at, say, 1,000 rpm on the tach, aim the gizmo at the prop, read it, and write it down. All up and down the range from idle to wide open, actal rpm is about 10% faster than indicated. So, instrument error pretty well accounts for almost all of the low reading.
I'll have the prop checked for pitch, but am not concerned about it. Now that I know the actual rpm is about where it ought to be, I'll quit thinking about it, and look at something else. We want to be able to fly to other airfields, and ride our bikes into town, or on a trail. So, loading and securinng our bikes is another project.
The tachometer (tach) on the Duck has always seemed to report readings that seemed low. It s like the old, cable-driven speedometers we had on our first cars years ago. On the face of it, there could be several reasons for this.
An instrument provides an "indication". It may be so accurate as to be considered "actual", but not very often. Usually, it is sufficiently close to suffice (close enuff fer guvmint werk). So, one reason for low rpm readings is instrument error. In this case, I would expect "indication" to be under "actual".
Another possibility is a prop that has a pitch steeper than what Cessna and Continental (engine manufacturer) had originally agreed to. It's a fixed pitch prop, so I can't control how big a bite it takes. If it takes a little bite, the engine's job is easier, and it can rev up faster. A larger bite of air will slow down the engine.
And, of course, it could be a combination of both of those conditions. Or, something else altogether that we haven't yet thought of.
Today, after we returned from a short flight to Charlotte KFPK, we did a calibration check. Dan had loaned me a little electronic chronograph, or metronome, or meter of some other name. Set engine speed at, say, 1,000 rpm on the tach, aim the gizmo at the prop, read it, and write it down. All up and down the range from idle to wide open, actal rpm is about 10% faster than indicated. So, instrument error pretty well accounts for almost all of the low reading.
I'll have the prop checked for pitch, but am not concerned about it. Now that I know the actual rpm is about where it ought to be, I'll quit thinking about it, and look at something else. We want to be able to fly to other airfields, and ride our bikes into town, or on a trail. So, loading and securinng our bikes is another project.
Flying Brittney Home
Last Friday evening, a gaggle of us trekked over to the Masonic Lodge in Grand Ledge, Michigan. They put on a pasty supper there, and the eats are great. Before we go any further, I'll tell the uninitiated about pastys. First off, it is pronounced with a short "a", like the word "pat". Secondly, it isn't the kind of pasty that is applied to nipples.
A pasty is kind of like a beef (or chicken) pot pie, all enclosed in a folded over pie crust. Only, it is not in a dish. The crust is the entie container. According to local legend in Michigan's Upper Penninsula (referred to here as "the UP." Folks from up there are called Yoopers), the Welsh miners carried pastys as their lunch. Now, all yoopers have to like pastys, and smoked fish. It's mandatory.
Anyway, our gaggle at the pasty supper included Harvey and his daughter Brittney. Now, Brittney is an attractive, remarkable young woman. She's 22, and legally blind. She can see a little bit, but not sufficiently to navigate safely on her own. After we finished eating, and had gotten the pineapple upside down cake polished off, conversation started to flow. Somewhere in there, I offered an airplane ride to Brittney. She grew enthusiastic right away. Later, I checked schedules and weather. Tuesday looked good.
This morning, Brittney, Julie, and I headed to the hangar. The Duck was smiling benignly as we opened the door. Julie fid a besutiful job of shepherding Brittney around as the Duck and I got ready. We pulled the plane out, strapped her in, and I gave her a modified passenger safety briefing. "To exit the aircraft, slide your seat back, release the seatbelt and shoulder harness, open the door, and carefully get out. If it's a forced landing, wait until the plane comes to a complete stop. It may be inverted."
As we lifted off, she shrieked in excitement. So, I pulled the yoke all the way back and popped up another 40-50 feet before levelling off. That earned a big grin and a long giggle. We flew at 2,000' above groind leve (AGL) at about 110mph indicated air speed (IAS). Brittney is the second blind person I've had aloft. Somehow, they can see better looking down than when looking straight at you. Her cell phone had died last night, so Julie loaned her camera. Brittney must have shot 75-90 piccies! 25 mile visibility allowed her to see reflections from lakes 15-20 miles off.
As we neared Gregory 69G, Air Traffic Control (ATC) informed us of traffic at our altitude, gaining on us from the rear at a 40 knot rate of closure. We veered a bit left to get out of his way, and she took more piccies. As we neared Mason, I began let down procedures. She was very quick to pick up any changes in speed or direction. Her internal gyros are finely tuned. Fortunately, it wasn't too shabby of a landing, and we cheated death.
Afterwards, we went to the Bestsellers Coffeeshop and Vault Deli. Ken and Sue were there. Ken is a WWII veteran. Brittney had never had lunch with a WWII vet before. Lots of coffee, conversations, and grins later, it was time to part and let folks go their ways. Fact is, the Ruptured Duck does a nice job of brining folks together.
Last Friday evening, a gaggle of us trekked over to the Masonic Lodge in Grand Ledge, Michigan. They put on a pasty supper there, and the eats are great. Before we go any further, I'll tell the uninitiated about pastys. First off, it is pronounced with a short "a", like the word "pat". Secondly, it isn't the kind of pasty that is applied to nipples.
A pasty is kind of like a beef (or chicken) pot pie, all enclosed in a folded over pie crust. Only, it is not in a dish. The crust is the entie container. According to local legend in Michigan's Upper Penninsula (referred to here as "the UP." Folks from up there are called Yoopers), the Welsh miners carried pastys as their lunch. Now, all yoopers have to like pastys, and smoked fish. It's mandatory.
Anyway, our gaggle at the pasty supper included Harvey and his daughter Brittney. Now, Brittney is an attractive, remarkable young woman. She's 22, and legally blind. She can see a little bit, but not sufficiently to navigate safely on her own. After we finished eating, and had gotten the pineapple upside down cake polished off, conversation started to flow. Somewhere in there, I offered an airplane ride to Brittney. She grew enthusiastic right away. Later, I checked schedules and weather. Tuesday looked good.
This morning, Brittney, Julie, and I headed to the hangar. The Duck was smiling benignly as we opened the door. Julie fid a besutiful job of shepherding Brittney around as the Duck and I got ready. We pulled the plane out, strapped her in, and I gave her a modified passenger safety briefing. "To exit the aircraft, slide your seat back, release the seatbelt and shoulder harness, open the door, and carefully get out. If it's a forced landing, wait until the plane comes to a complete stop. It may be inverted."
As we lifted off, she shrieked in excitement. So, I pulled the yoke all the way back and popped up another 40-50 feet before levelling off. That earned a big grin and a long giggle. We flew at 2,000' above groind leve (AGL) at about 110mph indicated air speed (IAS). Brittney is the second blind person I've had aloft. Somehow, they can see better looking down than when looking straight at you. Her cell phone had died last night, so Julie loaned her camera. Brittney must have shot 75-90 piccies! 25 mile visibility allowed her to see reflections from lakes 15-20 miles off.
As we neared Gregory 69G, Air Traffic Control (ATC) informed us of traffic at our altitude, gaining on us from the rear at a 40 knot rate of closure. We veered a bit left to get out of his way, and she took more piccies. As we neared Mason, I began let down procedures. She was very quick to pick up any changes in speed or direction. Her internal gyros are finely tuned. Fortunately, it wasn't too shabby of a landing, and we cheated death.
Afterwards, we went to the Bestsellers Coffeeshop and Vault Deli. Ken and Sue were there. Ken is a WWII veteran. Brittney had never had lunch with a WWII vet before. Lots of coffee, conversations, and grins later, it was time to part and let folks go their ways. Fact is, the Ruptured Duck does a nice job of brining folks together.
Kayak Jack said:Flying Brittney Home
A pasty is kind of like a beef (or chicken) pot pie, all enclosed in a folded over pie crust. Only, it is not in a dish. The crust is the entie container. According to local legend in Michigan's Upper Penninsula (referred to here as "the UP." Folks from up there are called Yoopers), the Welsh miners carried pastys as their lunch. Now, all yoopers have to like pastys, and smoked fish. It's mandatory.
Jack...
Take a look at this .... The Cornish Style Meat Pie ( Pasty )
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JsZCkBH7v2k
That definitely looks worth trying. One Question? Should it be eaten with or without Ketchup? :mrgreen:
Bob
Bob
Some eat'em plain. Others with gravy or ketchup. Yoopers make them with turnips and/or rutabagas. I prefer without either.
When I entered the eighth grade, our class inherited the project of "a pasty supper" as a fund raiser to help finance our senior trip. Over the next few years, I helped make several hundred - or thousands - pastys. I ate some too. That's where I learned to not prefer turnips or rutabagas. Before that, I'd never been subjected ro such bitter tasting vegetable matter.
Anyway, last Friday evening, we were well fed. And Brittney enjoyed her flight. She giggled and laughed and took pictures during the whole flight.
When I entered the eighth grade, our class inherited the project of "a pasty supper" as a fund raiser to help finance our senior trip. Over the next few years, I helped make several hundred - or thousands - pastys. I ate some too. That's where I learned to not prefer turnips or rutabagas. Before that, I'd never been subjected ro such bitter tasting vegetable matter.
Anyway, last Friday evening, we were well fed. And Brittney enjoyed her flight. She giggled and laughed and took pictures during the whole flight.