Allaire airport (Sea Girt, New Jersey) was completely socked in with low ceilings until 1 o'clock in he afternoon when the sky started getting somewhat brighter in patches, insinuating that it was starting to clear up. We had been hanging around the planes for a couple of hours and were more than ready to jump in and go as soon as it was flyable.
We made several calls to Flight Service in the several hours that we were ready, but the weather wasn't. Just when it seemed that we would not be flying today, we felt the warmth of the sun on our shoulders. What a great feeling! Sunshine has sure been a rare commodity on this trip.
I called my father in Philadelphia, and confirmed that we were on our way. He would leave then to arrive at the airport in time to watch the landing, and take us back to the family home for a visit.
A final call to Flight Service to confirm that conditions are flyable reveals that it is only barely flyable, but if we stay low (no problem) we should be able to make it. Today's flight is probably the shortest one of the trip so far, just 40-plus miles from the Jersey shore over to Northeast Philadelphia airport. We review the charts just one more time, looking for low level radio towers, smokestacks, and other obstructions that could be a factor in a low level flight with greatly reduced visibility due to the haze. Then we power up and go for it.
We didn't make it. Art took off first and I was right behind him about 500 yards in the air when he radios that he doesn't like the visibility and was going to turn around. I could see from my position that the visibility was garbage and that I sure didn't want to fly through this stuff either, so I turned around inside of his turn and called for an abnormal right base entry to the Allaire airport. With this reduced ceiling, it was safer than trying to fly directly over the airport and doing the standard left downwind approach.
The landing surprised me somewhat. It seemed that I was floating for a long time, and that my groundspeed was a bit higher than normal. Exactly like there was some tailwind all of a sudden. Although the landing went smoothly, it seemed that it was never going to stop.
Art was coming in close behind me, and because I was not off the runway yet, and probably because he was experiencing he same long float and high groundspeed, he decided to go around and come back in after I had fully cleared the runway.
Back in the pilots lounge to wait out the weather, again. Another couple of hours of waiting, waiting, waiting, and looking forlornly out the window at the gray sky. Then, again, just when we are ready to rent a car and drive (yuk) to Philly, the sun breaks through! We leap out of our chairs, and shake off the accumulated stupor of watching TV and falling asleep. Another call to Flight Service reveals much improved conditions, but still junky by California standards.
We are out of there! Power up. Taxi out. Run-up check. Down the runway. Lift off. Hey, we can SEE! Not well, certainly, but a lot better than the last time we tried this. In fact, it was an easy, quick flight. The air was smooth, not at all bumpy.
We radioed the tower at Philadelphia and were given a right base entry to the alternate runway, with "variable" winds at six miles per hour. Now there's a grab bag for you. When they say "variable", it means that the wind is all over the place. It could be a nice wind right down the runway, or it could be nasty and be a quartering tail wind. But I wasn't about to argue, or wait. The forward visibility was just plain POOR, and I wanted to get on the ground as soon as possible. So we take the alternate runway. I follow Art in this time, giving him plenty of room to get off the runway, and then I execute a perfect three-point landing (showing off for my Father who I feel is standing at the fence watching my every move). Unfortunately, the only person who noticed my landing was Art who mentioned it several times, and even once in front of my father. (Thanks Art!)
This is the first time I have been home in about a year. It's difficult to describe how good it feels to fly for five weeks and thousands of miles to come home to familiar surroundings, and good family. I'm sure many of you know the feelings, and we all know that it feels just plain GOOD.
We spent the evening in animated discussions, and had dinner with Mom and Dad and a sister Verna and her friend Sue. Then back home for more talking and catching up on the family news. Then late into the night to help Dad with some sticky computer and printing challenges that had been bugging him for months. It was great to be able to solve the problems and help him relieve the frustrations he had been experiencing. Even felt better to me than if he had seen the great three-point landing.
Finally, sleep in a familiar bed, home at last, dreaming of a Mom-cooked breakfast in the morning, whenever I wake up, no schedules, surrounded with love.
God, it's great to be home, isn't it!