Michael McCafferty - USA Biplane Tour


Day Forty Five
A Perfect Day of Flying


Today was such a perfect flying day that I'm sure I will never be able to describe it properly.

For starters, the sky was a brilliant blue, the humidity that plagued us for weeks was gone, the temperature was in the low 70's, the winds were moderate, and there were scattered patches of cumulus clouds floating lazily at about 6500 feet. The conditions were perfect for flying.

Good friend Rick Feeny drove me to the airport, oooh'd and aaah'd over the biplane, and waited around until Art and I lifted off.

Turning west toward Nashville we climbed directly to the cloud puffballs and we played among them for the next 150 miles. Sometimes we would make tight turns around them. Sometimes we would fly directly into them and pop out the other side. Sometimes we would penetrate them from underneath and fly straight up inside them, doing a wingover as we squirted out the top.

Below us, the Blue Ridge Mountains, then the Smokey Mountains slipped by. Incredibly lovely green landscape, virgin forests, clear lakes, winding rivers. Normally we would be flying at treetop level over such awesome landscape, but these clouds were just so magical, so rare in their perfection, so ripe for playing, that it was impossible to stay low.

We cavorted like children, playing in the heavens with the toys of angels. We prowled through the corridors between the clouds, exploring these sleeping beings at close range. Almost at once, we both spotted a double side-by-side cloud, just perfect for Art and I to attack together. Simultaneously we dove upon our respective half-cloud, punching through their middles, and pulling up hard in their centers and, when we emerged out the top, we both executed wingovers in opposite directions. It was an airshow for the gods.

If there was ever a celebration of flying, this was it.

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Tonight we are staying at a Bed and Breakfast in Galatin, outside of Nashville. The home is over 140 years old, and is said to be inhabited by a ghost.

Tomorrow we fly again. The weather should be excellent. We haven't a clue where we will go next. But it really doesn't matter.


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