An eager drive down to Montgomery, filled with no small amount of trepidation. Have I planned properly? What don’t I know that I ought? Will she get frightened? Sick?
All these doubts I kept to myself – we were going, and it’s no use scaring the pax.
Herself saw the airplane and must have blanched a bit, at least on the inside if such a thing is possible. If you’ve never flown in anything smaller than an Embraer, the Cessna Skyhawk is an unprepossessing vehicle even when new, but a 1978 172N will also have a “patina of use” to go with its diminutive stature. People have been flying them about the country since shortly after the Wright brothers got some air at Kitty Hawk, though, and it did have dual comm/nav and distance measuring equipment.
The fuel gauges never came off the empty peg after engine run-ups, and I sighed, thinking that this would be a short trip indeed. Although the gauges aren’t particularly reliable, you have to have some sense of what’s left in the tank in order to make a long hike. It took a moment for a guy used to digital fuel indicators to have an inspiration, but I tapped the fuel gauges with my left hand – just like they used to do in the old days – and, Lo, and behold! After a couple of attempts the needles jumped up to the “Full” marks.
I miss technology.
The Biscuit got a little excited as we took the runway and the spinner spooled up, but in short order we were airborne and turning north. I pointed out various landmarks she had previously known only from the ground, and after a moment the digital camera came out and pictures were being snapped. At the top of the climb she asked if all those people would be talking on the radio throughout the flight, and I had to answer yes, they would: We had requested flight following. North of Oceanside there’s not much to see, so I cranked the volumes down on her intercomm and radio and she went gratefully to sleep for the next two hours. Teenagers.
The first leg was a shade under 400 miles, and I had my lingering doubts about getting all the way there in one hop. Flight planning through AOPA’s online flight planner suggested that we’d have 15 gallons out of our original 40 left arriving at the destination, enough for nearly two hours of flight on a cruise power setting. Giving some up in the climb, getting it back during the descent and at a little less than 9 gallons per hour at 6500 feet and 2400 RPM I figured on roughly four hours of endurance, plus a safety margin. Because I’m all about safety margins.
At three hours into the flight, with headwinds and with about 50 minutes of flying time to go I started to get a little anxious. According to the fuel gauges we were about 6 gallons below prediction approaching Paso Robles, but the needles bounce around so while “averaging” about seventeen gallons left, adding together the lower boundary of those needle swings we had about 10 gallons. That would have left us with maybe two or three once on deck at Monterey, which is nothing like enough when I’ve got precious cargo aboard.
I’d planned on hitting Paso Robles on the way back from San Francisco, and considered it a go/no-go point for my northbound leg as well. There’s an automated weather reporting station there, but I could see the field from 20-odd miles away – it really was a great day to fly. It was my first approach to an uncontrolled tower since I was an ensign, which felt, well: Uncontrolled. But in short order we landed, got our gas, taking on 17.2 gallons. That meant that I had still had nearly 22 usable gallons left, we would have made Monterey with well over an hour’s flight time remaining without stopping. Nervous in the service?
Maybe, but I think I’d make the same decision again. Running out of gas on final would have fatally ruined my reputation with my daughter.
The Monterey Peninsula is full of rich people, who wouldn’t mind making your life miserable if you goon the pattern up and fly too low over their stately pleasure domes. But you can’t go wrong on the ILS/DME approach, following the FAA’s published instructions, like. So that’s just what we did.
We forewent the visit to CSU Monterey Bay, since our ardors do not lay in that direction it seems and in any case the hour was getting late. Checked in at the main BOQ at the Naval Postgraduate School and saw an old shipmate behind us, the former Assistant Maintenance Officer from my last squadron. He was going through the MBA program and had good things to say about it, as well as fondly remembering the old retiree standing before him for the things he’d done as a commanding officer way back in the way back when. Which was nice.
It doesn’t take long to stroll the main streets of Monterey, nor the tourist district either: We had endless samples of clam chowder pushed on us on the pier. After a coffee at a suitably dark and intentionally funky café for the Biscuit and a bottle of Spaten for your correspondent, I handed her the keys and we were down the road to Carmel for to walk the art galleries, finally stopping in for oysters on the half shell to cap the evening off. In between we had pleasant conversation about friends, experiences, books and art. Nothing heavy, we’ve had enough of heavy conversations, which are the only kind you tend to have when you don’t talk nearly enough. There’s a world of space between exchanging daily pleasantries and Finally Having To Say Something when you sense the train coming off the tracks, but I have not, in the last few years tilled that middle ground very fruitfully. And she is leaving soon.
I’m nothing like as close as I would like to be to my older daughter. I suppose I was too often gone to sea when she needed me at home, and maybe not there enough when I was at home. I have no illusions that I can make all of that go away with a three-day jaunt through California in a Cessna 172N. But I am enjoying her company greatly, and I will treasure this time.
Good lord willing and the weather holds.
“Spaten.” I should have known–a man after my own heart…scary. (probably more for Lex at the very prospect)
Paso Robles. What a classic example of what the passage of time and a doubling of the nation’s population will do. When I came out here in the summer of 1960 at the end of my soph yr in HS from the mid-west to play the West coast summer circuit in the days of amateur, pre-open tennis, Paso Robles was nothing but a wide spot in the road off the exit ramp in the middle of nowhere with barely more than a gas station, Post ofc, Hardware store, and a couple of Road-House dive bars where all the country & western locals came to shoot pool and drink long-necks until all the wimmin’ looked purty. (what there were of ‘em) Now the wine country has grown up around the place and Paso Robles is now a semi chi-chi place to live or visit. LOL
Repeat after me: I will not ever, ever, ever use fuel gauges for anything in GA aircraft. Ever.
The only time they’re required to be accurate is when they show empty. And most aren’t even then. Go strictly by GPH and time. Physics dictates that X cubic inches uses Y gallons per hour, and that never fails.
You’ll occasionally find a Shadin Fuel Totalizer in a GA bird. Bet your your life on GPH x T anyway. But do the math right.
Tailspin/
That, and the old-fashioned
dip-stick pre and post–only way to tell for sure.
Planning works for automobiles also. I pulled into a (closed for the night) gas station off the interstate in Pennsylvania way back when. Caught a couple hours of cold sleep until it opened at 6am. I put 24 gallons of gas in my 24 gallon tank. At least the consequences were not as dear or as dire as running out at 2000 ft AGL. Still, its good to know the ‘professionals’ screw up with margin from time to time also. (As an amateur photographer, I give the whole picture dump to the client and tell them they’re all yours. I tell them, the difference between me and a professional is you’ll never see the professional’s mistakes.)
The only time I trust a fuel gauge is when it reads less than I think it should…
I’ve never trusted fuel gages in any of the planes I’ve flown,but if you fly older planes you get used to not trusting anything completely.
Even the newer SP or C182 models are not very precise.
Another friend I met on-line suggested the BOQ at the Naval Post Graduate school as a good place to stay when I head down to visit the daughter. I guess the NPGS is close to where DLI is. I can’t wait to get down to Monterey and see the daughter.
I’m a little suprised to hear the Biscuit hadn’t flown with you before. Sounds like a great trip so far.
As to your relationship with the Biscuit? We all worry about these things. My daughter and I have always had a really close relationship, but I worry she’s living her life to please me. Claims she isn’t and that she’s living her dream. But hey, a Dad is supposed to worry. Somewhere, deep inside the Biscuit knows her Dads one of the good guys. Or she will someday.
Nice, Lex.
I really appreciated this line, it’s so very true.
Nothing heavy, we’ve had enough of heavy conversations, which are the only kind you tend to have when you don’t talk nearly enough.
Here’s to more pleasant conversation and a renewed realization on both sides of just how pleasant that company is.
Lex,
I envy you these times. They are indeed a treasure, and one that will pass too quickly.
I have memories of Fort Ord, and of Carmel, where I first had a chocolate-covered frozen banana on a stick. Interesting, and tasty.
That whole area was beautiful.
Your description of the apprehension of heading out wondering if you had missed something in the planning reminded me of similar experiences when flying a “new” plane. “New” as in new to me. After awhile familiarity breeds confidence which hopefully never reaches complacency.
The years with your daughter will pass quickly and the relationship will grow in the next few years at a rapid pace as her maturity allows a different perspective on your contributions to her life. Then you will be rewarded at unexpected times as she finds ways to let you know that all your efforts were noticed and have not been in vain.
At least that is how it worked out for me and mine.
‘…I was too often gone to sea when she needed me at home, and maybe not there enough when I was at home.’
That’s a common father’s plaint. We go, then return to kids that have had 3 years growth over the last 6-8 months, and do battle with a world to wrest a liing to allow those same kids to get that 3 years growth while we are gone. Few fathers get to stay around with no distractions to watch them grow up. At least my kids respect me as they have grown and come to realize what earning a living actually does to a man. Now they want to spend time with dear ol’ ‘da.’ I hope it’s not for the entertainment value of watching me age. If only my winter beard didn’t consist of mostly grey these days. At least my son, soon graduating Engineering School likes it when I ride the bike to visit him. He takes pleasure in blowing his dear ol’ off the road with his 165 mph+ bike.
Alas, it’s gone when it’s gone. Cherish those hours with your kids, even after they are grown.
“But I am enjoying her company greatly, and I will treasure this time.”
And that, Sir, marks a successful trip. Whether she will admit it now or not, when she reviews those photos that she is taking she will remember.
Yes, Navy types perhaps have it hardest of all the branches in terms of familial separation. It probably sounds cynical, but my view is that these days the best that one can hope for is that they grow up with their heads screwed on right and hopefully don’t come to hate you in the process of administering your “helpful” “concerns.”Anything else is gravy.
And PS on Idaho Joe’s thought. I wondered myself: why is this the first time for the biscuit? Would have thought flying would have been the perfect bonding agent–unless she herself was indifferent to the whole subject. As Lex said, tuff to walk the middle ground between being seen as “pushy” in the eyes of a teen-ager trying to assert/find/form her own character jealously protective of her pvt. “space”and benign neglect. Like the proverbial task of pushing the string up hill.
As someone who was in the Biscuit’s shoes a few years back – having spent more time growing up without my dad around than with – I can say that even when my Daddy and I were as far apart as I thought possible, I still thought he hung the moon.
Though you couldn’t have paid me to say it.
Later on, when I had grown up a bit, our relationship came back closer to what it had been – only better. Like a good wine, time and experience had made it something so much richer than it had been.
The Biscuit is blessed – probably more than she’ll ever realize but blessed, nonetheless.
Glad the trip is going well. Monterey is beautiful! BIL spent 18 months there at NPS and we were able to visit a time or two. Loved it there!
I’ll add to the chorus… sons grow up and become men, but a daughter is Daddy’s Girl… forever.
I’m glad the trip is going well!
Nice story. Brought back a great time with my oldest son. Leaped off a CV after a long deployment, spent a couple of days home, and headed off to DC for duty with my ten year old in the jumpseat. We meandered across the US watching pro baseball games. Great bonding time. While I have always worried about my time spent at sea had on their lives….the brave lady I married did good. Seems it all worked out.
A well-nurtured child is a resilient thing to behold. Yes, they miss the out-of-sight parent but they bounce back amazingly well and in short order. What they do crave is respect, and when you are in their life, for you to recognize and celebrate their achievements and commiserate on their failures – without too much judgment. Or as we used to say in Casa G -”attention: babies cry for it, grown men die for it”.
“Treasure that time” – rightly so but take heart. After leaving the nest they do return, and with a profoundly different aspect on life!
Smooth flying on the next leg. And thanks for NOT leaving us all without our NL fix!
Nothing better on a day cut short by scatterbrained customers to check in here and find a story of flying and relationships, honestly and thoughtfully written, humble in tone (both about the flying and relationships!)…and then to read the comments.
Thanks, it just helped my day get better.
Lex,
Sounds like a “good news” story and much appreciated and an enjoyment to hear.
As for gauges in GA, I trust mine. It is ’30s technology: a welding rod on a brass float in the fuselage tank cap smack in the middle of my frontal field of view.
Yup, those work great—until they stick. Happened to me in our Travel Air biplane. But clock told me the truth.
Nicely written Lex. Captures one of the great reasons to fly-sharing the adventure with someone you care about, even if they might be less than enthusiatic about small planes at first. …and how cool is that- flying with your Dad to check out colleges. That’s as far from ho-hum as it gets.
I’m now on the last of three sons worth of college tuitions and I’m glad about the reduced cash flow. But with that, they start going in different directions so times like these are like gold. The adventures in flying or diving together are now fewer, but they will last a lifetime.
Lex – thank you for sharing this experience with us. Reminds me of my relationship with my dad – which is a very good thing indeed.
You just underscored one of the reasons I always talk myself out of learning to fly. A $50K-$60 showroom new Lexus SUV has better and more reliable everything than anything one can fly for double the price. I can drive from sea level to 10k AGL and not worry about mixture or unreliable fuel gauges; fadec a reality for years. When Toyota starts making a $120 – $150k AirSUV, that will be my cue.
Gray, flying airplanes to save money on transportation is like telling your spouse you’re buying a cabin cruiser in order to save money on meals by catching fish.
It can’t be justified on a sheet of paper. Not that I haven’t tried.
Shared this lovely story with my mother. Her response was to sketch out a little scenario…
College Tour Guide/Current Student: So, you’re from San Diego, Biscuit? How was the drive?
Biscuit: My father flew us up here.
Major coolness points.
Lex … so far, it sounds like a delightful trip. We have good memories of Monterey. When my husband and I were still sailing, we went to San Francisco for a business meeting, getting there a few days early. One of our friends had just taken delivery on a one-off custom sailboat from Hong Kong – a 40 foot luxury palace, unlike our own lean, mean little girl at home. He invited us to sail along the California coast and we gleefully accepted. When we got close to Monterey, we sailed into the harbor near noontime, and dropped sail to have lunch. It was one of those brilliant California coast days. Becalmed, we broke out the sandwiches and sat lazily basking in the sun, when suddenly, almost at the horizon we saw a turbulence in the water. Far off, there were six big bodies curvetting and leaping into the air, rushing toward us. When they got close, they shouldered up near the boat, their black and white sides almost brushing us, their dolphin faces smiling. I could have dropped my hand over the gunwale and touched them. I almost did, they looked so friendly. They spent almost ten minutes playing around the boat, before they formed up again into a flotilla and rushed away. Almost at the harbor mouth, they hesitated, turned back and rush back almost to the boat again, before they leaped in the air, and then formed up and rushed away.
We had been literally dumbstruck [even me, which doesn’t happen often] But they were so beautiful and it was such an epiphany of an experience. Jack, the boat’s owner, said “Well, damn! I’ve sailed these waters for more than 20 years and I’ve never seen anything like that.”
Neither have I. But I’ll never forget it.
Marianne
Enjoyed reading this, Lex, and appreciate your sharing it with us. Hope all the days are as pleasant. This trip will be a special treasure for you both in years to come, I think – although knowing teenagers, you may not hear about it from her for a few years.
Great story Lex.
Follow the link to read about another desperado airborne and out and about today in a Cessna 172. It looks like he couldn’t get a rental car either after he landed the plane.
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/chi-ap-wi-stolenplane,0,4366883.story
I motored up to Monterrey once and tied up at the pier there. There was about 70 feet of ship sticking out beyond the end of the pier. Skipper stepped off the boat with his golf clubs over his shoulder and was not seen again for 4 days.
Great BOQ with 15 foot ceilings as I recall.
[...] Now that I’ve left Monterey, Lex finds a reason to go visit. [...]
For a truly memorable meal stop, should’ve headed up to Castroville
- SJS
btw, PilotWiz is a nice little free flight planner for the iPhone.
Liked the flying narrative but loved the humanistic ending. I know it all to well! I loved flying and the Navy, but … It’s was one of the reasons I left when I did!
Looks like our host has (wisely) decided to focus on The Biscuit rather than posting.
I love to read his writing as much as anyone here, but I suppose we can give him a day off. Once.
Good! I hope Lex has a lot of fun while escorting his daughter here and there. I hope she gets a chance to see how much fun her father has flying aircraft, and why he put so many years into the Navy.
Sure XBrad, we can do one day off.
Just so long as he doesn’t make a habit out of it.
You Gomers, you know who you are, need to get a flippen life…Best
Have you looked in the mirror lately Snake?
BZ, Lex!
Yes I have…and it’s a wounderous sight indeed…many thanks for the reminder and the kind words. Best