note to self -
after finishing reinstalling the brakes on a C-206 landing gear, be sure to look up before standing up. Slamming headfirst into a wing strut and making little crunchy sounds in the neck isn't fun.
I'm gonna go lie down now. Y'all have a nice night.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Caution Flag...
Remember the better part of a year ago when I said "the needle was homing in" on eventually ending up in missionary aviation? Hrmm, well.. those self-same "points of doctrine or application I'd disagree with one church or another on" have become bigger and bigger thorns over the last year or so, to the point I'm not certain at all anymore if that's how I'll end up*.
At this point, I'll confess to being fairly rudderless. Still, I've lived long enough to know there's nothing to derail a life like changing directions with every turn of the wind, so for the time being I'm staying on more or less the same educational path. Still working at the A&P shop, and working out a deal for some flying instruction with a friend - much cheaper that way!
I've promised myself I'll stay in Alaska long enough to get some kind of piloting ticket and land and take off from a sandbar or the like at least once. After that... I have no idea. What will be, will be.
* as an aside, to anyone I've inadvertantly ticked off in the last year or so (John S and Tams particularly) - you have my sincerest apologies and a heaping pile of public mea culpas.
At this point, I'll confess to being fairly rudderless. Still, I've lived long enough to know there's nothing to derail a life like changing directions with every turn of the wind, so for the time being I'm staying on more or less the same educational path. Still working at the A&P shop, and working out a deal for some flying instruction with a friend - much cheaper that way!
I've promised myself I'll stay in Alaska long enough to get some kind of piloting ticket and land and take off from a sandbar or the like at least once. After that... I have no idea. What will be, will be.
* as an aside, to anyone I've inadvertantly ticked off in the last year or so (John S and Tams particularly) - you have my sincerest apologies and a heaping pile of public mea culpas.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
So about that evening out...
As I mentioned the other day, a friend of mine was kind enough to invite me out for an evening jaunt with her gang. So we drove up to Birchwood Airport, a little place outside of Chugiak, just across the road from the shooting range. (Yes, the same range that would wake me up every Saturday morning with machine gun fire last fall when I lived at the bosses' place. Alaska is AWESOME!)
Anyhow, from there we piled into a Cessna 172 and a PA-12 (basically a roomy Super Cub) and flew back down past Anchorage and across the inlet to the little town of Hope:
Stick near the mountains, and you don't need to talk to anyone, so it was a pleasant trip down. Lars took three passengers in the Birchwood 172:
Meanwhile they were gracious enough to let me ride with friend's feller in the Piper, an awesome nimble little thing. So as to spend as little time over the water as possible, we turned southeast and followed the mountains until we got to the shortest crossing point. The idea is that if the engine quits, you want enough altitude to make land on the far side. The side benefit is we got to look at sheep on the mountainsides along the way (those would be the little white dots in the lower center of the picture):
Then we cross the inlet:
And settle into the Hope airstrip. A mile or so walk through the woods then down the road brings us to town, basically a little smattering of houses and a cafe/bar. Hope is a tiny little settlement, the remains of a gold mining town once upon a time. It's like a lot of similar places I've seen through the years in Idaho and Montana, now surviving mostly on tourism and as a "bedroom community" of sorts. Unlike those towns though, it's also home to some folks who commute to and from Anchorage with their own little planes, whose daily commute is the trip we just took. Very cool! At least, it is when the weather cooperates. The drive around the inlet is a long one.
We had dinner at the cafe (excellent seafood chowder by the way), then went for a walk. The boys found themselves an old rusting engine on the ground:
I think they even figured out what it used to belong to - clever!
Now, my friend would prolly track me down and gut me with a rusty wing rib if I posted the darling picture of her and her sweetums, so here's a goofy one of YT -
You see that orange vest that makes me look like a cow? CAP requires you to carry all manner of survival gear on their flights, preferably on your person, so I just brought this along out of habit. It even has a little "pull to inflate" cord that turns the thing into a lifevest in the water - for all the good it'd do in the cold Cold COLD waters of that inlet. "You know what that's for, right?" teases the pilot... "that's so the search crew can find your body after you freeze to death." Alaskan humor, gotta love it.
Anyhow, eventually we get tired of clowning around and head back to the airstrip. We chat some more, swat lots of skeeters, and watch the owl that's come out to take a peek. Lars asks for a picture of his takeoff, but sadly my batteries die just as he's building up speed. So no more pictures I'm afraid.
Finally back home around 2:30AM or so, so work Saturday morning was... difficult. Still, it was an incredible trip! Life up here definitely has its high points, I'll say that!
God Bless all, hope to see ya soon.
Anyhow, from there we piled into a Cessna 172 and a PA-12 (basically a roomy Super Cub) and flew back down past Anchorage and across the inlet to the little town of Hope:
Stick near the mountains, and you don't need to talk to anyone, so it was a pleasant trip down. Lars took three passengers in the Birchwood 172:
Meanwhile they were gracious enough to let me ride with friend's feller in the Piper, an awesome nimble little thing. So as to spend as little time over the water as possible, we turned southeast and followed the mountains until we got to the shortest crossing point. The idea is that if the engine quits, you want enough altitude to make land on the far side. The side benefit is we got to look at sheep on the mountainsides along the way (those would be the little white dots in the lower center of the picture):
Then we cross the inlet:
And settle into the Hope airstrip. A mile or so walk through the woods then down the road brings us to town, basically a little smattering of houses and a cafe/bar. Hope is a tiny little settlement, the remains of a gold mining town once upon a time. It's like a lot of similar places I've seen through the years in Idaho and Montana, now surviving mostly on tourism and as a "bedroom community" of sorts. Unlike those towns though, it's also home to some folks who commute to and from Anchorage with their own little planes, whose daily commute is the trip we just took. Very cool! At least, it is when the weather cooperates. The drive around the inlet is a long one.
We had dinner at the cafe (excellent seafood chowder by the way), then went for a walk. The boys found themselves an old rusting engine on the ground:
I think they even figured out what it used to belong to - clever!
Now, my friend would prolly track me down and gut me with a rusty wing rib if I posted the darling picture of her and her sweetums, so here's a goofy one of YT -
You see that orange vest that makes me look like a cow? CAP requires you to carry all manner of survival gear on their flights, preferably on your person, so I just brought this along out of habit. It even has a little "pull to inflate" cord that turns the thing into a lifevest in the water - for all the good it'd do in the cold Cold COLD waters of that inlet. "You know what that's for, right?" teases the pilot... "that's so the search crew can find your body after you freeze to death." Alaskan humor, gotta love it.
Anyhow, eventually we get tired of clowning around and head back to the airstrip. We chat some more, swat lots of skeeters, and watch the owl that's come out to take a peek. Lars asks for a picture of his takeoff, but sadly my batteries die just as he's building up speed. So no more pictures I'm afraid.
Finally back home around 2:30AM or so, so work Saturday morning was... difficult. Still, it was an incredible trip! Life up here definitely has its high points, I'll say that!
God Bless all, hope to see ya soon.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
wrenchmonkey... land ho!
As you may remember, my regular computer job ran out of money to keep me employed some time back. And so I've been doing lots more work at a local aircraft maintenance shop - not only does it help make ends meet, but it's delightfully educational.
However, let me take a moment to mention that working on airplanes in Alaska is probably not quite the same as it is down south. For one thing, there's the amphibian planes - the a/c is on floats, which in turn have retractable wheels to be able to land on ..well... land. The result of this is that the engine compartment of even a mid-sized Cessna is well up over my head, and I ain't short. Solution? Why you clamber up onto the floats, swing around the wing strut swashbuckler style, and start laying down a plywood deck. It all feels terribly romantic, clambering around on the thing while wrenching at spark plugs this and fuel injectors that - it's like going to work in a jungle gym! Very fun!
"Okay," I can hear you say, "so you worked on a float plane. Big deal. Those are all over the place." Indeed. But THIS is our next project on another Cessna:
What you are looking at, ladies and gentlemen, is the result of a bear deciding that the local outfitter's plane looked an awful lot like a great big salmon... or somesuch. One casual swipe, and *crunch* goes the claw into the tail. The other side's got similar denting, but no punctures. That must have been a show to see!
This place... is amazing. Next up - pictures from last night's impromptu invite up in the air and across the water!
However, let me take a moment to mention that working on airplanes in Alaska is probably not quite the same as it is down south. For one thing, there's the amphibian planes - the a/c is on floats, which in turn have retractable wheels to be able to land on ..well... land. The result of this is that the engine compartment of even a mid-sized Cessna is well up over my head, and I ain't short. Solution? Why you clamber up onto the floats, swing around the wing strut swashbuckler style, and start laying down a plywood deck. It all feels terribly romantic, clambering around on the thing while wrenching at spark plugs this and fuel injectors that - it's like going to work in a jungle gym! Very fun!
"Okay," I can hear you say, "so you worked on a float plane. Big deal. Those are all over the place." Indeed. But THIS is our next project on another Cessna:
What you are looking at, ladies and gentlemen, is the result of a bear deciding that the local outfitter's plane looked an awful lot like a great big salmon... or somesuch. One casual swipe, and *crunch* goes the claw into the tail. The other side's got similar denting, but no punctures. That must have been a show to see!
This place... is amazing. Next up - pictures from last night's impromptu invite up in the air and across the water!
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Southern Comfort
Today I decided to cut my "commute" distance in half, and instead of the large church across town went to the Presbyterian place just downtown. It's been a while, being in a comparatively little church. Not as flashy, not as heart-splitting, but very very comforting.
In a way it was like going back in time a bit, walking into the sanctuary - it could easily have been designed by the same sixties-modern guy that did the "ski-jump church" I grew up in. For a visual - cross the building shapes from the old 60's Star Trek mattes with some hippy album cover art, and there ya go. That's the aesthetic. Dated certainly, but it has its own charm if you grew up with it.
Also of course hearing the old doxology and suchlike were a great salve to the soul... there is something viscerally touching about the ritual of a traditional church service. Coming on the heels of Independence Day, much of the service was reflecting on the place of our nation, the "Shining City on the Hill" image Reagan spoke of. And truly, this nation *has* done an astounding amount of good in the world, due in no small part to our religious heritage I believe. Bad too of course, we're fallible humans individually, and all the more so collectively. And yet, the world's become a much brighter place for America's participation in it.
That said, I admit it was hard for this ol' Johnny (Janie?) Reb to sing "Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory" along with the congregation. Still, as Dad says "Deo didn't Vindici*"
So that's been the day. It's a quiet overcast rainy afternoon, peaceful and nice.
Take care y'all. Love.
* To those that missed the reference:
"Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory" is the first line of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" - a song "filked" into a Union anthem by northern abolitionists in the War Between the States.
"Deo Vindici" was the motto of the Confederate States of America - it means essentially "God Will Vindicate Us." And well... we lost. God didn't vindicate us, as it happened.
So - while to this day I still think we were well within our rights to secede from the Union, and indeed believe the consolidation of Federal power following the war was a very bad thing - there's no doubt we were very very wrong on the cause to *why* we were seceding. And so I suppose as hard as it is, I can accept that judgment.
In a way it was like going back in time a bit, walking into the sanctuary - it could easily have been designed by the same sixties-modern guy that did the "ski-jump church" I grew up in. For a visual - cross the building shapes from the old 60's Star Trek mattes with some hippy album cover art, and there ya go. That's the aesthetic. Dated certainly, but it has its own charm if you grew up with it.
Also of course hearing the old doxology and suchlike were a great salve to the soul... there is something viscerally touching about the ritual of a traditional church service. Coming on the heels of Independence Day, much of the service was reflecting on the place of our nation, the "Shining City on the Hill" image Reagan spoke of. And truly, this nation *has* done an astounding amount of good in the world, due in no small part to our religious heritage I believe. Bad too of course, we're fallible humans individually, and all the more so collectively. And yet, the world's become a much brighter place for America's participation in it.
That said, I admit it was hard for this ol' Johnny (Janie?) Reb to sing "Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory" along with the congregation. Still, as Dad says "Deo didn't Vindici*"
So that's been the day. It's a quiet overcast rainy afternoon, peaceful and nice.
Take care y'all. Love.
* To those that missed the reference:
"Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory" is the first line of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" - a song "filked" into a Union anthem by northern abolitionists in the War Between the States.
"Deo Vindici" was the motto of the Confederate States of America - it means essentially "God Will Vindicate Us." And well... we lost. God didn't vindicate us, as it happened.
So - while to this day I still think we were well within our rights to secede from the Union, and indeed believe the consolidation of Federal power following the war was a very bad thing - there's no doubt we were very very wrong on the cause to *why* we were seceding. And so I suppose as hard as it is, I can accept that judgment.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Happy Independence Day!
And a thank you to all those past and present that have sacrificed so much for our nation and our freedoms.
God Bless You.. and thank you.
God Bless You.. and thank you.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Them wonderful Knights again...
You wanna know what it's like to live next door to an Air Force base?
Imagine hearing a zoom, then looking out your window to see this:
His previous pass was even closer, just about filling the windowframe as viewed from inside.
I have to admit, it is nice to get the first hand look at our nation's finest doing their thing. Gosh are they cool.
Sure would be nice to get a ride though. :)
Imagine hearing a zoom, then looking out your window to see this:
His previous pass was even closer, just about filling the windowframe as viewed from inside.
I have to admit, it is nice to get the first hand look at our nation's finest doing their thing. Gosh are they cool.
Sure would be nice to get a ride though. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
