The weather today was so perfect that locals will remember it for years. Warm but not hot. Low humidity. Sunny, cloudless skies. Definitely not the kind of day one would usually expect for July in these parts. I had the feeling right from daybreak that it was going to be one of those very memorable flying days. I was right.
Dave and Deb dropped me off at the airport so that I could do some flying while they hit some golf balls and run some errands. Art called from Rock Hall to say that he would be staying with his friends there for another day. This left me with the first opportunity I have had in almost 6 weeks to spend some private moments with my plane. Sometimes I have gone out to my plane with the intention of flying, but I am so overcome with its sheer beauty that I use up a lot of flying time just walking around it, drinking it in from every angle, admiring it as a work of art. Today was one of those days, and I spent the first two hours at the airport just "being with" my lovely biplane.
I released the tie-down ropes. Slipped off the cockpit cover. Unbuckled the seat belt which held the control stick in check. I gave it a thorough ground inspection, looking over ever nut and bold and screw and hinge and control surface and antenna and light and instrument. I pulled the prop through and ran my fingertips over the leading edge of the prop to check for nicks.
During all of this process, various people would walk up to me and chat about the plane, about how they saw it from the road nearby and how they just had to stop and see it up close, about how they used to fly in a biplane back in the 1940's, about their first ride in an airplane, about how their son was a pilot, about what it must be like to fly in an open cockpit biplane, about what an extraordinary adventure it must be to fly one of these planes all the way from California, and how I must be living out every pilots dream adventure, and how lucky I am to be doing this.
All the time we are talking, I am not really talking. I am really thinking about flying. I am readying myself for flying. I am looking past them to the windsock, and noticing how much of a crosswind there is, and wondering if the wind will continue to shift so that maybe the alternate runway may be in use by the time I take off. I am thinking about where I will fly, about how low I will fly over the water, and how much traffic there will be.
Nearby, there is a fellow giving biplane rides in a Stearman. His name is Hunter Harris and I met him two years ago when I was here in my Waco, on its maiden voyage from the factory in Lansing Michigan. Hunter is a long-time blimp pilot and he had been wanting to get a biplane and sell rides. He finally got his biplane just a couple of months ago and his business is in full swing, and he is selling lots of rides today because it is a magnificent sparkling day and it's the Fourth of July weekend.
Between rides, Hunter comes over to me while I am in my Zen trance with my plane. He suggests that maybe he and I and a friend of his, Fred Celce, would like to fly together today in formation around the local area. Of course I jumped at the idea! Fred has a Great Lakes biplane, a bit smaller than the Waco, and a fun aerobatic performer. Fred is a retired TWA captain and flies the Great Lakes just for the love of it.
I take off last, freely giving priority to the local guys. The take off was tricky because I had to stay clear of the prop wash and vortices of the other two planes. I catch up with the others quickly because I have the fastest plane. We form a right echelon and descend to treetop level as we head out over the shoreline. The Chesapeake Bay is alive with boats of every imaginable description: sailboats, powerboats, jet skis, water-skiers, rowboats, you name it. It is a feast for the eyes because the air is so clear that you can see forever.
We are low on the deck, skimming just above the height of the masts of the sailboats. We slip even lower over the open water and pop back up to just above treetop level when we come into shore. All the time we are hugging in to each other's wings in formation, wheeling and turning and presenting a most spectacular impromptu airshow for the thousands of earthbound spectators.
For everyone except the lead pilot, formation flying is probably the most exacting kind of flying you can do. The lead pilot just does whatever he wants to do. He is number one. Pilot number two must rivet his attention TOTALLY on the wing of number one. Pilot number three must focus his attention TOTALLY on the wing of number two. Pilots two and three must be making continuous adjustments of pitch and power and bank to stay in perfect formation with the pilot to his left. The lead pilot looks out for other traffic, obstructions, etc. The others ignore everything except the wing of the plane slightly ahead and to the side. This means that you must have absolute trust in your lead pilot.
Since I had never flown with Hunter or Fred before, it took me a little bit of time before I tucked in real close. I wanted to see their flying before I committed that much trust. Soon we were flying well together and swapping the lead. One of the things which made today's formation flying more difficult was because Fred's radio was acting up. He could hear us on the radio, but could not transmit. The only way he could communicate was with yes or no answers to our radioed questions. He signaled yes or no with exaggerated, almost comical, head motions.
Hunter took along a passenger who paid for the ride by taking pictures of Fred's Great Lakes and my Waco against the beautiful background of the Chesapeake Bay. I can't wait to see the pictures.
Hunter broke off the formation after about half an hour because he had to take some paying customers for a ride. Fred and I continued in a two-plane formation and flew even lower. We covered almost all of the northern part of Talbot County coastline and it was really an unforgettable experience.
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Other topics to be developed: Crab cakes, snapper soup, Tidewater Inn, Loopin' Louie, the first rule of not getting caught at flying too low, Ellen Griffin and her Austin Healey, Brittany (Bee), pinball on the computer, Bogey.