It was all Facebook's fault. I posted that I was planning on flying around California, some friends commented that I should go visit them in Bend, Oregon, another friend added that if I was going to Oregon there was an air rally that ended there. Next thing I know, Ed and I were discussing entering the rally. When I asked him what his attitude was towards the race, in it to win or relax, have fun and enjoy the ride, he replied the latter and, just like that, Race 12 had a crew.
The Hayward Air rally is a competition where the objective is not to get there fast, but to get there accurately. Namely, the organizers tell the contestants the route and the contestants have to tell how much fuel they will use and how long it will take them to get there. Whomever gets the closest to their estimates, wins.
Our first task was to put numbers on our plane, Ed's Cessna 310. In theory it was supposed to be easy: a trip to Home Depot to get the appropriate tape, and then half an hour cutting strips and applying them to the tail and the bottom part of the wings. In practice, it involved trips to several stores in order to get enough tape and over two hours out in the tarmac, under a hot California sun, lying on our backs before this task was done. This should have been our first sign that we had underestimated what we were getting into.
That evening we had the route briefing and a chance to meet our fellow racers. The route was straightforward, with three checkpoints before our first stop at Redding, and another three before our final destination of Bend. Our fellow racers were competitive: going over and over their calculations, checking their plans, using Google Earth to check the route, and one going as far as adding a hose and container to their plane's fuel vent so that they could capture any fuel lost and reuse it. Ed and I just shrugged and said, we'll figure it out later. By we, of course, I mean Ed; it was his plane and he knew the numbers. My job was, at this point, just to look good.
After rising way too early the next morning we eventually found ourselves at the pre-race briefing for last minute instructions and, most importantly, coffee and pastries. After that it was off to the ramp, for our official team pictures and to wait for the morning fog to clear so we could be on our way. They gave us GPS trackers, something new they were testing this year, and around 9 am the clouds started clearing. By 9:30 Ed and I were strapped to our seats, and soon after we were taxiing to the runway. A quick runup to make sure things were fine, we lined up with the runway and waited. Soon the official lowered the flag, Ed pushed the throttle forward and we were off. Our race had started!
As we headed towards our first checkpoint I realized we had never actually figured out what I was supposed to do, and how we were supposed to interact as a team. I had a vague notion my job was to navigate, keep track of time and spot he checkpoints, but that was it. So, at 160 kts I looked at Ed's flight plan, started adding numbers and trying to figure when we were supposed to be at each checkpoint in order to get there at the appointed time.
The first checkpoint was an adventure: Ed said we were there, his GPS said we were there, my GPS said we were there, but neither of us could find the airport to be able to answer the question (how many T-hangars in the southwest corner of the field). Never mind, we could figure that out later, so we took a picture of the general area and headed off to the next checkpoint. Oh, and we were two minutes ahead of our schedule.
Off to the second checkpoint we went, all the time looking out for airplanes and checking our estimates. This time around things were a little easier and we were able to count the number of green roofs at the end of the runway, but we were still two minutes ahead schedule.
At the third checkpoint, before we were supposed to go in for our timing run (flying low over a specific airport so the officials could time us), we were still two minutes ahead of schedule so Ed did a 360 turn to kill some time. Then we called in to the officials saying we were coming for our timing run, they gave us the ok and off we went, looking for a lake, houses, and eventually the private strip we were supposed to fly over. This was also the time I figured out I couldn't add time up and had all the expected checkpoint times off by, you guessed it, two minutes. And that's approximately how much we were off by on the first leg.
We took an one hour break in Redding to check the weather ahead (isolated thunderstorms), grab some food and rest. Back in the plane, we taxied for takeoff when Ed noticed the alternator light go on. Take off was cancelled and we taxied to a mechanic to try and identify the problem. He opened the engine, poked around but did not find anything. The light did not come back on, so we decided we were ready to go. Taxi to the runway, wait for the flag and off we went on the second leg of our adventure.
We reached our first checkpoint and I found out that, according to the plan, we were 15 minutes ahead of schedule. This time I double checked my math and the numbers were not lying. So we made the only sensible decision: forget the time and let's enjoy the ride. So we flew towards the first checkpoint, looking for a big plane on display near some airport. We managed to find it near the on ramp of some highway and off we went to look for our second checkpoint, two circular structures at the top of a mountain. Those I found, as well as the orange roof between them that we were supposed to look for. The third and final checkpoint was also easy to find, a nice big antenna.
Then it was time to descend and go for our timing run, which involved finding a town and then following some power lines until we found the airport. The process was straightforward, though I still think calling four buildings a "town" is a little bit of a stretch. But hey, if that is what they want to be called, I'm ok with that.
Ten minutes after the timing run we were landing at Bend, Oregon. The officials refueled the plane, took note of the amount of fuel used and that was it, we were done with the rally. We spent the rest of the Saturday hanging out at the hotel and sharing stories with other pilots at the hospitality suite. This was followed by dinner, some needed rest.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Birthday in Santa Barbara
I decided to celebrate my birthday with a trip down to Santa Barbara. Truth be told, I was kind of running away. It was going to be my first birthday without Sharon and I did not feel like celebrating. If I stayed home, my friends would probably want to go out and I was not in the mood for that. Given how busy work was, what I really wanted was just some quiet time for reflection. So Santa Barbara by myself it was.
I decided I was going to fly myself there, and I was going to do it IFR, not because the weather called for it, but because I wanted to have my first trip doing such a trip solo using the system. So I went out, bought the charts and spent an evening pouring over them, figuring out the route and studying the approaches. Fifteen minutes with DUATS showed that the weather was ok so we packed and went to the airport, eager to be on our way.
Alas, things did not go as planned. The airplane had a problem with its attitude indicator, which made flying IFR a no-no. So we tried to change planes, which took some time; there was no plane available for the time period I wanted, so the front desk people had to make some calls to see if other members were willing to change planes. Two hours later things were sorted out and I got the keys to the new plane and off we went again.
And again, we were not able to go. This time the problem was a bad contact with one of the GPS buttons which made it impossible to enter flight plans. Technically I could have flown with a faulty GPS, but I was already several hours late and this last little problem was enough to put me in the wrong state of mind for flying. So I cancelled the flight, went back home and scheduled a plane for the next day.
The next day, things worked like a charm. The plane was there, all the systems were working fine and we embarked on our first IFR trip. As usual, or so I am told, the route we filed has nothing to do with the route that we get. ATC (Air Traffic Control, for the non-pilots), had me fly almost into California's Central Valley before turning me towards Santa Barbara. This made a two hour trip take almost three hours, but the air was smooth, visibility was great and I just enjoyed the experience.
Arrival at Santa Barbara was straightforward. I was asked to use the VOR approach, which involved going a few miles away from the shore. This would have delighted my friend Alan; he knows how uncomfortable I get flying over open water and I could hear his voice making fun of me. But the approach was uneventful and soon I landed, parked the plane and was ready for the next step of my Santa Barbara adventure., renting the car.
The FBO people dropped me off at the car rental agency where I just walked in and asked for a car. I did not have a reservation, but the agent was very helpful and soon I left the place with the keys to a Ford Explorer, a map, hotel recommendations, suggestions of things to do and wishes for a happy birthday.
I found downtown Santa Barbara easily and drove along the beach until I found a hotel I liked. They had rooms available and I decided to splurge and treat myself to a room with an ocean view. It was, after all, my birthday! The room was nice, clean, and when I opened the windows I could see sand, palm trees and the Pacific Ocean.
Having secured accommodations, I was off to do some tourism, which in this case meant a visit to Mission Santa Barbara. It looked like most any other mission I have visited, an adobe building forming a rectangle, with a garden in the center and a church on one of the sides. A quiet, peaceful place, though, and I enjoyed hanging out there. As a bonus I got to light a candle for Sharon, something I've been meaning to for a long, long time.
After that it was off to pier (with a stop on the way for some coffee) to enjoy the view, listen to the ocean sounds and enjoy the solitude. I made my way to the edge, sat on a log and spent the rest of the afternoon there, until the sun disappeared behind the mountains. I just sat and thought, remembering the good times with my wife, missing her very much and trying to figure out what I want do with my life. No big insights, but it was good to have time to think about it.
When the sun set, and it became too cold I was off to a seafood restaurant recommended by the hotel for dinner. I had their clam chowder and a tuna fillet with coleslaw and almonds. The food was decent, but not exceptional. The place was bustling, though, and while waiting for my table I got to meet a musician from Argentina that had come to the U.S. for the music scene.
After that it was time to go back to the hotel, check the weather and get a good night's sleep in preparation for the trip back. And sleep well I did, waking up to a hazy day and going downstairs for my continental breakfast. I don't know why, but most hotels offering continental breakfasts consisting of assorted pastries, while I keep always expecting it to be bread, jam and cold cuts. Apparently I am incapable of learning from experience.
Then it was off to the airport. I parked the car at the FBO, dropped off the key and went to preflight the plane. Thirty minutes later I was on my way back to Palo Alto. The air was smooth, the flight was uneventful and in two hours I was landing back home. The only interesting thing about the flight was that ATC gave me direct to DOCAL, the initial approach fix for Palo Alto when I was over Paso Robles, still over 100 miles away.
And that was it for this adventure, or almost. Two days after I got home I got a call from the car rental agency, politely asking me if I was enjoying the car and when was I planning to return it. Apparently the FBO people had forgotten to call them to come and pick it up. I explained that I had returned it and they promptly told me not to worry, there would be no extra charges. So, a happy ending when all is said and done.
I decided I was going to fly myself there, and I was going to do it IFR, not because the weather called for it, but because I wanted to have my first trip doing such a trip solo using the system. So I went out, bought the charts and spent an evening pouring over them, figuring out the route and studying the approaches. Fifteen minutes with DUATS showed that the weather was ok so we packed and went to the airport, eager to be on our way.
Alas, things did not go as planned. The airplane had a problem with its attitude indicator, which made flying IFR a no-no. So we tried to change planes, which took some time; there was no plane available for the time period I wanted, so the front desk people had to make some calls to see if other members were willing to change planes. Two hours later things were sorted out and I got the keys to the new plane and off we went again.
And again, we were not able to go. This time the problem was a bad contact with one of the GPS buttons which made it impossible to enter flight plans. Technically I could have flown with a faulty GPS, but I was already several hours late and this last little problem was enough to put me in the wrong state of mind for flying. So I cancelled the flight, went back home and scheduled a plane for the next day.
The next day, things worked like a charm. The plane was there, all the systems were working fine and we embarked on our first IFR trip. As usual, or so I am told, the route we filed has nothing to do with the route that we get. ATC (Air Traffic Control, for the non-pilots), had me fly almost into California's Central Valley before turning me towards Santa Barbara. This made a two hour trip take almost three hours, but the air was smooth, visibility was great and I just enjoyed the experience.
Arrival at Santa Barbara was straightforward. I was asked to use the VOR approach, which involved going a few miles away from the shore. This would have delighted my friend Alan; he knows how uncomfortable I get flying over open water and I could hear his voice making fun of me. But the approach was uneventful and soon I landed, parked the plane and was ready for the next step of my Santa Barbara adventure., renting the car.
The FBO people dropped me off at the car rental agency where I just walked in and asked for a car. I did not have a reservation, but the agent was very helpful and soon I left the place with the keys to a Ford Explorer, a map, hotel recommendations, suggestions of things to do and wishes for a happy birthday.
I found downtown Santa Barbara easily and drove along the beach until I found a hotel I liked. They had rooms available and I decided to splurge and treat myself to a room with an ocean view. It was, after all, my birthday! The room was nice, clean, and when I opened the windows I could see sand, palm trees and the Pacific Ocean.
Having secured accommodations, I was off to do some tourism, which in this case meant a visit to Mission Santa Barbara. It looked like most any other mission I have visited, an adobe building forming a rectangle, with a garden in the center and a church on one of the sides. A quiet, peaceful place, though, and I enjoyed hanging out there. As a bonus I got to light a candle for Sharon, something I've been meaning to for a long, long time.
After that it was off to pier (with a stop on the way for some coffee) to enjoy the view, listen to the ocean sounds and enjoy the solitude. I made my way to the edge, sat on a log and spent the rest of the afternoon there, until the sun disappeared behind the mountains. I just sat and thought, remembering the good times with my wife, missing her very much and trying to figure out what I want do with my life. No big insights, but it was good to have time to think about it.
When the sun set, and it became too cold I was off to a seafood restaurant recommended by the hotel for dinner. I had their clam chowder and a tuna fillet with coleslaw and almonds. The food was decent, but not exceptional. The place was bustling, though, and while waiting for my table I got to meet a musician from Argentina that had come to the U.S. for the music scene.
After that it was time to go back to the hotel, check the weather and get a good night's sleep in preparation for the trip back. And sleep well I did, waking up to a hazy day and going downstairs for my continental breakfast. I don't know why, but most hotels offering continental breakfasts consisting of assorted pastries, while I keep always expecting it to be bread, jam and cold cuts. Apparently I am incapable of learning from experience.
Then it was off to the airport. I parked the car at the FBO, dropped off the key and went to preflight the plane. Thirty minutes later I was on my way back to Palo Alto. The air was smooth, the flight was uneventful and in two hours I was landing back home. The only interesting thing about the flight was that ATC gave me direct to DOCAL, the initial approach fix for Palo Alto when I was over Paso Robles, still over 100 miles away.
And that was it for this adventure, or almost. Two days after I got home I got a call from the car rental agency, politely asking me if I was enjoying the car and when was I planning to return it. Apparently the FBO people had forgotten to call them to come and pick it up. I explained that I had returned it and they promptly told me not to worry, there would be no extra charges. So, a happy ending when all is said and done.
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