N07 to KORH to CYSN

If you've been reading, you know that I was about to embark on a week-long flying trip to and from Airventure in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. The title refers to the codes for the airports we've utilized up to this point. N07 is Lincoln Park, New Jersey, KORH is Worcester, Massachusetts, and CYSN is St. Catherine's Niagara Falls, Canada. 

We stopped in Massachusetts to drop off our dogs for a week at their birth kennel, a fantastic sled dog kennel and breeder in Brookfield, Massachusetts. They will spend the week with their biological brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, and nephews, as well as the father and uncle of one of each. They'll get to run and play and run in harness. They'll receive belly rubs and better food that we give them, since oftentimes the kennel mother makes their food from scratch. At night they'll get to participate in group howls before they bed down, and in the morning they'll get to sniff the cool air and feel the wind ruffle their fur. Sounds pretty amazing, right? Like a sleepaway canine camp adventure, no? One of our dogs would agree with you, and this is evidenced by the clicking back of her ears and the huge smile that quickly spreads across her face once the realization hits that we are heading to the kennel. Our other dog is more like a clingy child who would rather be with her parents, like that kid in the classic 80s film "Sixteen Candles": His parents force him to go to the dance, pushing him into the gym. He bangs on the doors that they are holding shut, screaming, "I wanna be with you guys!" The joke is that he should want to have fun and be with kids his own age, maybe even get into a little trouble. That is what we would love for this dog, but she spent the entire time that we were packing and getting ready to leave the apartment following me around with a worried look, as if to say, "Where are you going? Am I going with you?" She even tapped me with her paw several times, seemingly trying to remind me that she was there. I kept petting her and telling her she was going to camp and would have a great time with the other dogs. I said it would only be a week and would go so fast. I felt just like my mother before I went to sleepaway camp when I was a kid, as I spent the first few summers feeling achingly homesick, crying all night before the day I left, as well as all day visiting day. 

The drop-off was successful, with our homesick dog handling it better than usual. Then it was back to the plane for a 2.5 hour flight to Canada - my first international general aviation excursion! This is what I saw under the wing as we were waiting to taxi:

Those are corporate jets waiting to take their lucky passengers to a meeting, for a golf game, or wherever else they wish to go. We obtained our IFR (instrument flight rules) clearance and held short on the runway. Once given permission, we took off with a planned ascent to 3000 feet. We were soon given instructions to ascend to 6000 feet, which was our altitude for most of the trip. 

As always, it was awe-inspiring to look down and see cars, trucks, houses off of perfectly rounded cul de sacs, rivers, farms, and even part of Lake Ontario. It felt very calm and relaxing. Then some excitement started: We were monitoring "guard" (the aircraft emergency frequency on the radio), something my CFI recommends, as do other pilots, not expecting to hear much of anything. Suddenly we heard a pinging noise, kind of like a pinball machine beeping over and over and over. We thought it might be an emergency locator transmitter (ELT), which is a signal aircraft can send out when they are in distress. My husband made a radio call to ATC to let them know and the kept in touch with us, asking us to keep an eye out for smoke or a plane in distress on the ground. My husband let me make some of the calls as the sound continued for about 10-15 minutes of our flight. Eventually it stopped and we are still not sure what happened, but we of course hope that it was someone testing it or hitting the switch by accident. After the nervous system arousal of hearing a possible ELT on the radio, we soon heard another unusual radio call: Another pilot had spotting a hot air balloon flying at 6500 feet, which is a relatively high altitude for that type of aircraft. My husband and I looked at each other in wonder...and then we saw it ourselves! He let me call it in to ATC, who then asked me for its position. Again, I hope that was a planned flight for that aircraft, but it was unusual to hear about and to even see.

Today we visited Niagara Falls, taking a boat into the falls, a trip that is not recommended without the garish disposable rain ponchos they give out prior to boarding. We were soaked by the mist, a kind of baptism for our trip. 

A storm is currently rolling through, complicating our pan to fly to Chicago this afternoon. He is what it looked like from our hotel room (note the falls in the background):

Stay tuned for the update about our flight to KPWK (a small GA field in Chicago)!

Oshkosh B'gosh

I have spent the last week or so mentally, physically, academically, organizationally, emotionally, and practically getting ready to fly with my pilot husband to Airventure: http://www.eaa.org/en/airventure. Airventure is what I like to call "Woodstock for Aviators," a week-long festival in which more than 10,000 airplanes gather at what is usually a small airport in Oshkosh, Wisconsin for airshows, workshops, lectures, formal and informal gatherings, and airshows. There is every type of aircraft you can imagine from small Cessna 182s and Diamond DA20s to private jets to even a DC10 that doubles as a hospital. There are old and new warplanes, sleek planes used in airshows, and biplanes that require a leather helmet and goggles (and I think a silk scarf and leather jacket, but that's just my opinion). There are even a number of "experimental aircraft," many of which people have built themselves from kits. In addition to tens of thousands of airplanes lined up in various parts of the field, hundreds of thousands of people show up, and many of them camp out. The most sought-after camping spot is next to one's very own airplane, especially if it is a high-wing, because then you can sit under the wing and benefit from some shade. This is what we will be doing with our Cessna 182, hopefully as of Friday morning. We are leaving the New York area tomorrow and heading to the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, followed by Chicago, and ultimately the unique experience of flying into Oshkosh, a one-of-a-kind busy moment which requires intensive study of the NOTAM (Notice To Airmen) and understanding that the air traffic controllers will be talking to you and telling you what to do and you will be rocking your wings and not talking back because there is too much activity on the frequency. The results of this intensive study also require understanding that what ATC may say to you will likely involve landing on a brightly colored dot on the runway rather than getting to take the whole thing because there are so many aircraft arriving. We did this once before two years ago and it was extremely exciting to see all the planes around us, feel our wings rocking, and to land on a neon green dot, which was huge once we were on the ground. As I prepare for this trip, consulting my packing list which includes items like my passport, my logbook, a pillow I don't care much about since it will get dirty from sleeping on the ground, and a fancy dress for a special dinner on Mackinac Island on the way home once the camping portion is over, I am reflecting on how different my life is from two years ago when I first participated in this adventure. Sure I could follow up with the obvious commentary about being married now, or even mention that I am preparing to apply for tenure at my academic institution - both momentous life events. However, my life seems most different because I have been learning to fly. I can say today is that I officially have 39.8 flight-training hours. That missing .2 - 12 minutes - is really irritating me as I pack and think about the activities I'd like to do and the conversations I will be having with the people I meet, many of whom will be supportive that I am a student pilot and will ask the same questions that my friends and family check in about regularly: "How many hours do you have? How much longer do you think it will be? Have you soloed yet?" Unlike getting older, where 40 is something you avoid and screech the brakes toward, 40 here is a milestone. 40 is a nice round flying number, and it's also the minimum number of hours required to obtain your private pilot's license. Weather, plane repairs, my husband needing to take the plane himself, and general life have just gotten in the way the past couple of weeks, or I would likely have 43 or 44 hours, which of course would be even better than 40. But I have 39.8. I've even been wondering is there a way I could go up in one of the warbirds or showplanes that you pay for rides in and convince them to let me fly left-seat and sign off my logbook for me. Regardless of my missing those 12 minutes, I am excited and nervous to go to Airventure for the first time as a student pilot, as a part of a very special community. I am even more excited to represent the small percentage of women who are pilots, working on becoming pilots, or simply fantasizing about it and not sure how to begin. I may even tell people about The Wannabe Aviatrix!