Yowzamama!

The morning dawned with blue skies and wispies for clouds. The agenda was for dual sporting and aerobatic flying. It's a short list, but a really good one.

I wasn't sure which one we'd do first, and when Mike asked at breakfast which I'd prefer, I said 'dual sport riding in the wildlife refuge(?)' There was a slight question to the tone of my answer, and he said we could do that, by all means, but he thought this morning might be perfect flying weather, so I jumped tracks and was all on board the 'let's go flying' train. I'm really easy to please :)

I ran upstairs to change, coming back down with my camera in hand, and vest, in case my long sleeved shirt wouldn't be enough at 3,000+ feet. We drove over to his hangar, and had to execute this complicated security system to unlock the door before grabbing a five gallon gas can to go fill up at the Avgas pump.

While there, I noticed a six foot ladder standing by the pump, which makes sense when you need to just drive your whole dang plane over there to top off. The gas tank on his bi-plane is filled from an opening on the top wing, over where the front cockpit is, so even my Expat friend with super long legs would need a height assist to add fuel.

Back at the hangar, Mike lifted the door, which is a horizontal bi-fold. The hangars look innocently like normal storage buildings when the planes are buttoned up inside, but once you push the button, the whole wall will fold out and up to give you access to the great outdoors.

The pre-flight inspection was pretty thorough, and really gives you an idea of how well Mike knows his craft and his (air)craft. As on the Piper, this plane has cloth on the wings, with spruce spars underneath. He checked the oil, filled the tank, checked the fuel for sediment and water, made sure there were no broken ribs, and all the movable parts had the correct moveableness. I noticed one little flap that was missing some screws, so he did a minor reallocation of screws so that both sides were secure. It wasn't a big thing, but just shows the attention to detail he had.

This time, I got to wear a cloth helmet with my headphones, which cost Mike a good 20 minutes to rassle with, and it was getting hot over there. While he was doing that, his helicopter mechanic, the quiet and demure (shy, even) Dean rode his bike over from the helicopter hangar to look at something Mike had a question on. Turns out it was just a wire that Ponytail Dan had used to hold the engine cowling open while he was servicing it, and nothing major.

Have you ever had to wear a parachute? I have :) Mine was a backpack parachute, which had straps go from the back, around the inside of the legs and up to clips below the waist, as well as a clip across the chest. Mike told me to get familiar with how those clips work, in case there would be a water landing in the 'chute, and I'd be able to get out of the harness without having to look. Parachute talk is sobering.

He then discussed what he would say if I needed to jump, and the steps I would need to execute. I didn't have any doubt of Mike's capabilities as a pilot, but I paid close attention to every word. Unplug the headset, grab the bar on the wing overhead, step up in the seat, step up on the plane, and step back. If you hit the tail on the way off, it will just be a bump, since your relative speed is the same. Count to three one thousand, take both hands, grab the d-ring and pull it straight out. That's pretty much it.

He told me my cue would be if he said, "Bail out. Bail out." He joked if he heard it three times, the last one would be an echo, because he'd already be out (which is, of course, a big fat lie, since he would be sure to let ladies go first, as is his chivalric nature).

Once again, I executed the dance steps required to get in the front seat. Right foot on the wing (your other right foot!), left foot on the peg, right hand on the bar over the seat, left hand flat on top of the wing, step up and put right foot on the seat. Left foot in the seat, both hands on the bar over the seat and lower into the seat. Don't sit on the pilot's windshield! The parachute was my backrest, so it was a little snug getting in there, but once situated, I was good.

Now the second harness to put on...the seat belt inside the plane. Make sure it's snug enough, since we might be hanging upside down in it. Feet flat on the floor...don't hit the brake pedals down there. Hands out of the way of the throttle (I've got controls at my seat) and the stick. There are two metal bars just below the instrument panel that run diagonally in each corner about chest height, and are a great place to hold on if you just want to keep your hands out of the way.

This time, the intercom worked great (I was getting squelched out on the earlier flights), and I got to hear the back and forth from plane to airport. Mike is from Texas, and has a definite drawl, but once he's on the radio, he uses his 'plane voice' and sounds like he could be a radio announcer. The first time I heard someone radioing in about Great Lakes 4-7-lambda, I wondered who was talking about us, since I knew those were the numbers on our plane. Silly me.

When we were running through the pre-flight, some clouds decided to pop up, so Mike wasn't certain we'd get anything more than a quick beach tour and maybe a quick aileron roll. I was just along for the ride, and was happy whatever happened. The closer to the beach we got, there was an opening and some sun, so prior to doing anything Mike did a bit of a reconnaissance, angling back and forth to make sure there were no other planes in the area, the leveled out and told me the steps he would execute for the first procedure, which was the aileron roll.

Angle up, go into a shallow dive to gain speed, head back into a climb and then roll left. Mentally, I was as ready as I'd ever be. The most disconcerting thing was that first tip up and then dive...it's just like when you go over the edge of a rollercoaster, and the elevator has suddenly dropped to the basement. Once that first lurch was gone, though, I caught up with the plane, and then we were heading up at about a 30 degree angle, before spiraling to the left and back to level. Mike's comment about those was that they were so fast, by the time you realized something was happening, it was already over. He was right :)

Next up was just a regular loop. Same sequence as before, though with a steeper climb, and then just up and over. Pulling 4 G's. Again, it started with the elevator drop lurch, and then we were on a freight train headed dooowwwn, and then uuuuuppp and over. It was one of the coolest things to look 'overhead' and see trees and houses and ocean. I wished I'd had my camera out for that one, but alas.

Third on the list was the hammerhead. This time, you head straight up, dead vertical until you just about stall, then somersault over, going in a vertical dive to the ground, and then even back out to horizontal. The description sounded pretty intense, and intense it was, but not scary. We were so high up, you didn't get the impression of the ground hurtling at you, and once the vertical line was established going down, he only held it a second or two before going back to horizontal.

The clouds were starting to box in at this point, so we only had time for one more maneuver before heading back over to Roanoke Island. I think this one was my favorite. We headed over land (for better reference points), leveled out and Mike slowly eased back on the throttle. Back and back. The plane stalled and snapped into an immediate spin to the ground, going counter-clockwise. One spin, two spins, three spins, and then swing around to level out. The spins weren't corkscrews, it would take a little less than two seconds to complete one rotation, and it was just cool. It was almost one of those moments when time. slows. down. I didn't get dizzy and hadn't the least issue with motion sickness (which is probably why I enjoyed the ride so much!)

A pretty heavy rain system was headed our way, so we high tailed it back to the Dare County airport, coming down on runway 23 with rain just starting to sprinkle down. I was sitting in the forward seat, mostly under the upper wing, so I didn't notice how steady the rain was until we were back at the hangar and I could see it coming down on the blacktop. Mike was getting a bit more drenched than I, but thankfully, he doesn't melt.

Once I did my reverse dance steps to get out of my seat, Mike hooked up his tow dolly and pulled his dripping plane back into the hangar. He seemed pretty stoked to have gotten a plane wash out of the deal :) Not two minutes after he'd pulled the Great Lakes under the hangar roof, the rain really started pouring down. I unhooked my parachute and Mike gave the plane a rub down. Closed the door back down and we rode off into the rain inside his Tundra.

The rain pretty much settled in for the rest of the day, so we just headed over to La Fogata for lunch with Gigi, and upon our return, the Nap Monster claimed Mike once again. I ended up finishing some knitting I'd started, catching up on emails and reliving the fun of the ride. At supper tonight, Mike lamented that the weather hasn't been that great for my week at the beach, and I said, "Oh, I don't know. This is probably the best week I've ever had at the beach!"

Tomorrow is my last day here, and probably my tamest. Mike goes on duty at 8 a.m. for a 72 hour shift, and has to be ready for whatever hat drops. I do think I'll try to get a sunrise on the ocean tomorrow, if possible, and maybe sightsee with Gigi in the afternoon. Definitely a low impact day, but that's fine, since Saturday will be my longest day of riding for the whole vacation. It's only about 450 miles, though, so not too terrible.

Ah yes, one last picture to put in here, since I always seem to get pictures of the pets where I stay. Here is the lovable and jolly Wobbuffet, known affectionately as Wobs. He looks huge, but he's just a wee little long-haired dachshund.