Since yesterday didn't turn out to be the long day, today was. My alarm failed to go off and I got started an hour later than planned. It was a beautiful day, as you can see.
My first leg was a short VFR hop to Dalhart TX to attend to some business. When Cleo's previous owner bought his Trinidad, Dalhart was one of his stops. This photo doesn't look all that exciting, but it means something to him... (Compare to this image)
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| Borger, Texas | Dalhart, Texas |
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Up until today, I had been flying relatively low. Between Pennsylvania and Indiana, I was at or below 4000' due to winds and weather. Yesterday on my way to Missouri, I was again at 4000' to arrange a better look at St. Louis. Leaving Dalhart TX, I was on my way climbing to 12000' to cross the tail end of the Rocky Mountains in New Mexico. The rising terrain provided a greater variety of scenery than the last couple days.
It also brought back the 'difficult condition gremlins'. When flying at night, or over rough, mountainous terrain, or in this case vast expanses of desolation, strange things happen to airplanes. The engine starts sounding like it's running rough, gauge readings start looking different than you think you're used to. It's mostly all imagined, but not any easier to deal with. In my case, I thought maybe the oil pressure was lower than I had remembered it being, and the oil temperature higher. Loss of oil pressure is one of those Bad Things that you don't ever want to happen to you. There were plenty of flat looking places to land if necessary, but no airports for 30 or more miles at a stretch. After watching the gauges carefully for the next many minutes, I decided that the needles were at least not moving any further in the wrong direction. I took a photo of the gauge readings to compare later. I think the effect was partly due to the higher altitude, but mostly to my imagination.
| Not so flat anymore (Las Vegas, NM) | Albuquerque, NM |
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| near Acoma Pueblo, NM | East of Show Low, AZ |
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I stopped for fuel in Show Low, AZ. I always thought the name sounded rather funny, but hadn't really thought about its meaning. Well, the town's main street was called Deuce of Clubs, at which point I figured out the poker theme. So being a fairly serious poker player, I suppose it was appropriate that I managed a stop there.
I was surprised to see some TSA personnel entering the terminal building as I was leaving to borrow yet another courtesy car to go into town and grab some food. It turns out that Great Lakes Airlines provides commercial service twice daily. Have I mentioned that it's nice to not have to deal with security screenings when flying yourself?
The difference in fuel consumption at higher altitudes really hit me when I paid for the fuel at Show Low. I took on only 28 gallons for the 3 hour trip between Dalhart and Show Low at 12000', while the 3 hours from Rostraver to Bloomington two days before at 4000' used nearly 40 gallons. Most rentals charge hourly "wet rates" that includes the fuel cost. Most renters probably just burn at full throttle to get to wherever they're going as quickly as possible so as to keep the cost down. Now that I'm paying for my own fuel, I'll probably think a little more about how I'm using it.
Soon enough, I was over Phoenix, and from here on out I was over familiar territory from numerous trips over the years. Instead of heading straight home in San Diego, I aimed instead for Fullerton to show Cleo off to my parents. Eventually, the Pacific Ocean appeared through some of the typical low cloud cover we have in the area. It marked the beginning of the end of my journey from the East Coast, where three days before I had left within sight of Cape Cod Bay, or essentially the Atlantic Ocean.
My parents subjected me to the obligatory embarrassments - I thought maybe I had missed something and landed in Hawaii by mistake.
| The Pacific Coast | Welcome to Fullerton, CA |
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My last leg was a short 1 hour hop from Fullerton to Montgomery Field, San Diego, a trip that I fly often. This time, I was doing it in my plane... a reality that will probably take a while to sink in.
And then I was home. After 23 hours of flying, spread out over 4 days, I had finished a true cross-country flight.
I've been asked several times what I'm going to do with my club membership. I thought perhaps I'd keep it for a while, and see how often I decide to put in some time in one of their complex aircraft. I suspect the reality is that I'll be pretty devoted to flying with Cleo from here on out.