Hey Tadd! Welcome to BCP. The Graham Field Ohio Bush Planes Fly-In was an excellent time. John and Deb are awesome hosts and I can't remember having this much fun at a fly-in ever. Our BCP fly-in at JC is a great time, but this one lacks the death and danger of the mountains and replaces it with a ton of antique aircraft, circus animals, and a gigantic cauldron of beans.
This scary looking character emerged from the shadows of a ramp tug and asked if I was looking for some fun.

I said yes, and before I knew it we were off in his homemade aeroplane.

We landed at this gigantic rectangular lawn with a rock band tour bus looking rig peddling inner tubes, must have been a great rapid nearby.

Their nice driver even checked the air in this pilot's tires. Actually that's AK Bushwheel's head honcho Bill Duncan. Heck of a guy who knows how to travel in style.

John Graham, our Patrol Guy, loves aviation. He put me up in his on-field bunkhouse, which he calls the "scale house," and the inside is a miniature aviation museum and commemorative shrine to the airport. It was awesome.

These guys were headed to Coshocton, OH for dinner so I thumbed a ride in a Husky in hopes of cheap food.

Found some... $2.00 hot dog. Greg Swingle, Bill Tracy, Bob Breeden, Bobby Breeden

Hosts with the mosts. Mr and Mrs Patrol Guy.


Bushwheel sunset at Graham Field.

The Ohio weather was getting to the point where being close to a fire was the place to be. Bill Tracy.

Saturday morning was incredible. After the fog lifted, the air was crisp and ripe for some playing in the Graham hills airstrip playground. This particular one has a pump at the top. Swingle added fuel and I shot some video and photos.

Another food run commenced, this time to Carroll County airport. Jacob Papp in the background, Breeden boys in the foreground.

It was a good, if somewhat large group. Mr SuperCub.org Steve Johnson is in there somewhere. I think he's the one wearing a pink hat.

Foxflyer (daddy smells like airplane guy) takes the grass headed back to Graham.

Patrol Guy never uses pavement.

The way back is never a straight line. We landed this small grassy knoll and had a little bush plane party.

The boys discuss the takeoff...

Which is a severe down-ramp only 200 feet long to flat. You have not experienced flying until you've done this stuff.

Jake Papp spools up for drop-in.

The landing side, elder Breeden coaching.

Vroom.

Calling for NOTAMs for this particular knoll.

We both got the stripey sweater memo. I hereby dub these "Aviator's Sweaters" and want to see you all using these fashionable fireproof* wool garments by winter.

Don Emslie's backyard.

Back the Graham Field fly-in the weather was holding, but not for long.

A guy John knows with all these exotic animals showed up with his traveling zoo. My first in-person bear encounter. This thing really smelled bad.

Kong the monkey went for John's ear mcnugget about 2 seconds later.

Some great classic planes showed up.


Later that night, as the rain finally moved in and everyone sought shelter, Swingle debuted his latest 3 Alaska installments in Bushy's hangar.


I spent many hours around his huge cauldron of beans, mostly for the heat of the fire. They were so good, and the farts doubly satisfying.

Bushy and Rick Papp discussing the pulled pork and the need for horseradish sauce.

This guy again... Mr Supercub.org Steve Johnson seems to carry that thing with him everywhere.

Sunday. Wet. Low ceilings.

Perfect for gravel bar session.

Breeden.

Patrol Guy, happy to have made it considering his hefty passenger.


Loading his weapons.


My town, Zanesville.

Ohio Bush Planes chairmen, Greg Swing and Bushy.

Swingle was kind enough to allow me to fly the 1000th hour on his S7.

Then I flew the 4000th hour on Patrol Guy's J3.

These guys have the life. Ohio Bush Planes.

Now I are one!

The long trip home through Philly was much less fun.
More photos of the weekend here:
http://picasaweb.google.com/zane.jacobson/OhioBushPlanesGrahamFieldFlyIn#*Abercrombie and Fitch sweaters are likely not fireproof, but may fare better than a synthetic fleece in the event of a drunken stumble into the campfire.