Introduction
Any good trip or adventure has a highlight that defines the entire journey. Sometimes, that highlight is known ahead of time; usually it's at the furthest extreme of the traveling, whether by distance, or by hard earned achievement. But sometimes that highlight is a total surprise; something unexpected and unforeseen at the onset of the journey.
Every year in the late summertime, the Western Antique Aeroplane & Automobile Museum (WAAAM for short) hosts their big annual fly-in in Hood River, Oregon, simply dubbed the "Hood River Fly-In". The event is of course tailored to their requisite aircraft of focus, antique aeroplanes, and attracts a large number of such. For those enamored with the world of vintage aircraft, the event is on par with the Vintage area of Oshkosh, with far less walking. Of course, for us in the backcountry flying realm, the concept of "vintage airplane" and "affordable bush plane" are nearly synonymous, so the fly-in is well attended by many of the "slightly larger than normal size tire" crowd.
Our trio tied down at Hood River
The Pemberton's gorgeous Grumman Goose restoration
The Hood River Fly-In
The Journey to Hood River
The basic goal of my compadres and I was to attend the Hood River Fly-In. Originally we were to have a flight of three Cessna "Miniwagons" (Cessna 120 and 140s for those of you not following social media trends): me in my Cessna 120, another 120, and 140, launching from my home base of Tehachapi, CA. Unfortunately, the 140 was laid to rest after a successful completion of the "impossible turn" following an engine failure, so its pilot, Myla, was now relegated to riding as my right seater. The other 120 was then unable to come last minute, so we (now just one very heavily loaded 120) set off northward to catch up with the rest of the gang along the way.
Tehachapi, CA - Fully loaded in my Cessna 120 with two people and two sets of gear we were ready to head north
A quick cruise up the California Central Valley, we met our first companion at Gustine, California. Taylor, with his recently acquired ragwing Cessna 170, made us a flight of two, and off we went. Of course, Gustine is not far from a friend's wonderful grass strip, so a quick stop there was not to be passed up. Shortly though, we got word that the third of our trio had finally been liberated from the IFR doldrums of the Bay Area and was making tracks towards our next stop of Georgetown, California. We quickly launched, and were soon to find him on the airways. A meeting point at the convergence of our courses was set, and soon a series of aerial meanderings and shoddy radio work made us a flight of three with Noam in his Luscombe 8E.
Turlock, CA - A friends well kept grass runway couldn't be passed up, so we dropped in.
Georgetown was picked for the best of airport destination reasons, cheap fuel, and proved to be a worthy stop for such replenishment. Nestled, or better yet, scrawled upon the hillsides with the force of many a tractor, the airfield is a unique experience in lower elevation mountain flying. A return trip is definitely in order.
Georgetown, CA - With the Luscombe now a part of our gang, we were Oregon bound.
From Georgetown, the goal was to make the Oregon border town of Malin in one fell swoop, following the western slope of the northern Sierra Nevada. We set forth, in a long cruise climb towards Portola, California, passing the Sierra Buttes, affording a chance for some decent air-to-air photography. As we approached the eastern flank of Lassen National Park however, trouble began to appear. The summer had been wrought with intense wildfires all over Northern California, and today with the conditions as they were, smoke from fires west of Lake Shasta was being pumped eastward across the Modoc Plateau. Visibility was rapidly deteriorating, so we descended from our comfortable cruise altitude and were back to fundamental contact flying. I being a luddite, still navigating by way of paper sectional and a window, figured we were just shy of the town-site of Little Valley, not far from the Fall River Mills airport (O89). But more importantly, Little Valley was our intersecting point for the BNSF Railway line to Klamath Falls, which conveniently leads directly to Malin, Oregon.
Sierra Buttes, CA - Passing the Sierra Buttes not far from Portola, CA.
We descended to fly a little IFRR (I Follow Railroads) and pick our way through the smoke. There at 501 feet above the tracks, visibility was better and we carried on. Soon we approached the Oregon border and the smoke began to clear. Malin offered a paved runway with some nicely prepared shoulders, tempting to use as turf runways, which we did. Soon gassed up, we departed. Of course, being summertime at 4,000 feet MSL, the full-up Cessna 120 didn't quite leap off the ground, but it got the job done.
Approaching the Malin Airport just over the Oregon border from California. The turf adjacent to the runway was quite nice!
Malin, OR - Visibility had "improved" by the time we go to Malin for a fuel top-off.
On the final stretch to Hood River, up passed the resorts and vacation homes of Sunriver, skating the edge of Bend and Redmond, across the cavernous ravine that is Lake Billy Chinook, before finally crossing the last few ridges into the Hood River. The day had been a long one, but just as the sun was to set, we tuned in the Common for Ken Jernstedt Airfield and made our approach. On downwind, Addison Pemberton called in flying the one and only Boeing Model 40 as a few other inbounds also made their positions known. A cross check of the groundspeed and the turbulence being encountered prompted a check of the AWOS: Strong winds out of the west...it's Hood River after all. We joined the fray on left downwind for 25. A slow but dramatic final over the gorge just short of 25, before a satisfying touchdown on the grass runway adjacent the pavement. Hood River, we had arrived!
Hood River, OR - Lacking any decent cameras, we set off for an evening hop to tour the area; the PNW never disappoints.
The fly-in, like all good events of the type, consisted of many old friends, many new ones, and several logbooks worth of hangar flying. I also own a Stearman, and the opportunity to be around so many aeronautical creations of the early 20th century is something very special to me. The local FBO hosted a bluegrass and old-time country band to provide music throughout. I soon stumbled upon one of the band members idle picking some tunes behind the tent, and was no sooner back with my fiddle at hand. I knew I keep that thing in the plane for a reason.
Hood River, OR - Living up to my handle, found a chance to jam with a local guitar picker
The Trip Home
Video 1
Video 2
With our time at the fly-in done, Sunday morning found us packed up early to set off for points south. Another heavy departure, off of the grass of course, and the 120 was soon climbing out to the southeast, still with 170 and Luscombe in tow, bound for Prineville, Oregon. Prineville was again found with cheap fuel, and a surprising number of generic "ACME school of flying" trainers about. But the trip home was not meant to be a quest for cheap gas at paved, published, GA airports. Where the trip north was one of purpose, intent on arriving at Hood River in a timely manner, the trip south was focused on exploring far-flung places yet unseen, and landing at them of course.
Departing Prineville, we continued southeast, to a region best described as... Southeast Oregon, since, that's exactly what it is. This land, wild and hardly tamed, desolate from lack of water, towns, roads, and people, contains a santuary of backcountry flying: Field Station. Those who have mined the fields of YouTube and BackcoutryPilot.org have probably seen accounts of the place: A lonely gas station with general store, cafe, and a few other comforts along a desolate road. A road so untraveled, that any wheeled vehicle to set upon it is welcomed business. And after such vehicle arrives, winged or not, the folks at Fields offer up swift respite.
So, we set off for Fields, but soon, it dawned on me, with this unique destination so close, I had forgotten to turn on the all-important wing camera. A quick appraisal of the sectional against our current locale (a difficult thing to pinpoint with so few landmarks), showed a public use turf strip not far away. We altered course for a quick pit stop, but before we were even pointed at the strip, a suitable dirt road appeared below. In the spirit of trying new things, we set down there instead.
Somewhere, OR - Pitstop on a lonesome road in a lonesome land.
With the camera now recording, we set off again. From here the journey is captured in the linked YouTube videos.
After another 100 miles or so of barren Oregon, we crossed one last little pass, and found ourselves at Fields. A quick survey north and south showed us a safe landing was at hand, so we set down, and taxied in. Careful avoidance of signs while taxiing in was a must.
Fields, OR - Field Station, a lone source of sustenance in this barn land
And then, the surprises began. We parked at the edge of the parking area, hardly any customers around, and walked in. Lunch was the main goal here, so we sat at the cafe bar and ordered up. Legend of the milkshakes had preceded the place, and as such, were ordered. At first, the price seemed high, but given the locale, understandable. Shortly there after though, a quart of finely blended ice cream was plunked on the counter. Eyes bigger than our stomachs for sure...but worth every scoop. The 1/2 pound burger that followed necessitated recalculation of takeoff weight.
Field, OR - Fuel for the pilot and the plane
Fields Station had also recently installed a fuel pump just for aircraft use with 94UL (non-ethanol) gas. Being west coast based, any chance to have non-100LL run through my little C-series Continental is welcomed; all the more so when it is the only gas for many, many miles.
Departure was aided by a friendly German couple who we met at Fields. The husband was a pilot, and was enamored with the fact we could fly into such a location; something not possible where he flies. They drove ahead down our "runway" and stopped any oncoming traffic while we departed.
The next destination was just a quick hop down the road to Denio Junction, Nevada. A similar setting to Fields Station, but with a charted public use airstrip adjoining the property: Denio Junction airport (E85). At this stage, the Luscombe was due to be back home, and set off direct back to the Bay Area, leaving the 120 and 170 to continue on our own.
Denio Junction, NV - Quaint and effective, a good stop to someday return to.
We departed Denio Junction to the west for yet another unique stop just a few minutes away. Across a semi-dry lake, what little moisture there was presented in the form of a green carpet of desert flora. We soon crested a small ridge and saw our destination: Bog Hot Spring. A quick and simple road landing, followed by a meandering taxi through the sagebrush, found us parked at the edge of the rather large and flowing spring. Time was tight, so we did not get to fully enjoy the hot water for its relaxing qualities, but with the knowledge of such an easy airborne arrival, a return trip is for sure in order.
Bog Hot Springs, NV - Quiet solitude, away from anywhere, running hot water included.
Another road-borne departure and we turned southwest to head out toward the Black Rock Desert and beyond. The plan from here was to show the 170 some of the popular haunts of the High Sierra Fly-In region, such as the Burning Man site, Fly-Geyser, Bonham Ranch Hot Springs, and of course the infamous Dead Cow lakebed. Little did we know, the next hour of flying was to bring the absolute highlight of the trip.
Minutes after departing Bog Hot Spring, we were headed for the Virgin Valley, a region best known for it's pay-to-dig opal mines. I had seen in my research of this trip a gorge located along this route: The Thousand Creek Gorge. Google Earth showed it to be a crag along the ground with a river in it, but flying over, it proved a stunning crevasse, with tall and dark vertical walls guarding a narrow meandering creek. The gorge is on par with terrain one might find in Southeast Utah. Certainly an unexpected surprise.
Thousand Creek Gorge, NV - It sure is easier to cross in an airplane.
Soon though we were well south of Virgin Valley, having just passed the Soldier Meadow airfields, and coming into view of the northern traces of the Black Rock Desert playa. From here, we would follow its northern shore over to the Burning Man site, Black Rock City (BRC), and see what remained of the huge event, only now two weeks past. As we got within about 15 miles of BRC, something began to appear on the playa. Being downwind of BRC, and all the associated commotion of cleaning up Burning Man, a large amount of dust filled the air, obscuring our distant view. But for sure, there was a large object nearing.
Black Rock Desert, NV - The 747
As we drew near, it became apparent what it was: A Boeing 747. Now, to give some context, I work at the Mojave Air and Spaceport in California. Over the past two years or so, the Big Imagination Foundation had been slowly dissecting a 747 so they could bring it to Burning Man as the largest ever Art Car to traverse the playa. That this year the entire "vehicle" had arrived at BRC was well covered on the Internet in the weeks prior. But what was it doing here, 15 miles away from BRC?
Intrepid explorers as we were, we landed on the playa and taxied up to the 747. Alone, on a vast playa, with such a large man-made object was surreal. It dwarfed our small flying craft, even lacking most of its flying surfaces. Playa dust caked the entire fuselage. We respected the signage and did not go inside. Amazingly, technology being what it is, we had full cell service on the playa; a post was made to social media of our discovery and away we went. Little did I know what would come of that fateful post!
Black Rock Desert, NV - All alone
Black Rock City, NV - Two weeks after Burning Man
Upon returning home a day later, I was contacted by a local Reno newspaper asking to use my photos of the 747. Soon, the story was out that the owners of the 747 vehicle had, in a last minute upset, lost the use of a private land parcel on which to park the 747 until next years event. Given no choice, they had towed it to a safe spot on the playa, to return once a new plan was established. Of course, the media being what they are, ran wild with this bit of Burning Man leftovers. Those who have ever been out there can tell you, the playa is actually big enough to lose a 747 on, so the concern was perhaps a little overblown! Several months later, during the High Sierra Fly-In, many of the attendees flew out to see the 747, parked not far from where we found it, on a parcel of private land, where it remains.
With the highlight of the trip clear as could be, we continued our travels. A quick stop at the Bonham Ranch Hot Springs, an overflight of Dead Cow lakebed, finally ending the day at Nervino Airport (O02). From here the 170 departed for home, and we stayed the night.
Bonham Ranch, NV - Another road landing, another hot spring
Bonham Ranch, NV
The next morning produced a beautiful and crisp early-fall dawn in the Sierra. We set off, bound for Nevada again to seek strips yet un-landed in the region south of Reno. Climbing high, we crossed Truckee Airport (now with a control tower) and Lake Tahoe before descending across the Minden Valley into Smith Valley. Therein lies a forgotten strip upon the sectional chart, Rosaschi Air Park (N59). With a three-letter identifier, it's a public use strip by George! And with a paved and dirt runway to boot! A PIREP from the previous evening told us it was in poor shape, but we figured we'd at least take a look. Overflight found the dirt strip usable enough to land on, and a departure on the pavement found no issues. Big tires sure do help!
Rosaschi Air Park, NV - The official dirt runway, big tires help
We flew up the East Walker River, past Barron Hilton's former Flying M Ranch. Over the years, he hosted many sailplane races out of the airfield at the ranch. This is also the location that Steve Fossett departed from on his fateful last flight. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Hilton had just given these ranch lands to the state of Nevada for the formation of a new state park. Hopefully the aviation aspects of his properties there can be preserved for future recreational aviation use.
Flying M Ranch, NV - Soon to be a part of Nevada's newest state park
Just south of the Flying M Ranch is another historic site in Northern Nevada history: The Nine Mile Ranch and associated 19th century stone and mortar ranch house. Samuel Clemens, better known as Mark Twain, once spent time here caring for the ill Capt. John Nye, brother of Nye county, Nevada namesake governor James Nye. At some stage in the ranch's history, an airstrip was built adjacent the ranch house, and is still very usable today. We landed, and toured the site, remarking at the strangeness of visiting a 19th century locale via flying machine. The strip is about 2,000' long with a decent uphill slope to the south. At 6,000' MSL, a downhill takeoff is a necessity.
Nine Mile Ranch, NV - 19th century relics, a Nevada specialty
Nine Mile Ranch, NV - The runway at Nine Mile Ranch
We continued our journey home, hitting a number of other spots, some of which we hoped to find lunch: Sweetwater strip, Tioga Pass and Yosemite, Lee Vining Airport, Bishop Airport, the old Big Pine Airstrip, Kearsarge, before finally giving in at Lone Pine and walking into town for lunch. The final leg, I elected to do a visual inspection of the old Monache Meadows airstrip, before cruising back to Tehachapi along the crest of the Sierra at about 11,000'.
The final day of the trip exploring our way south to Tehachapi
Here's a map of of the general region, as well as a map of our landing zones.
As with most of these trips, the arrival home comes first with the simple satisfaction of making it home...the 71-year-old fabric-winged tuna can defied gravity for some 20 hours and 2,000 miles. But the trip had been rewarding in many more ways, both in time spent with the company at hand, and the chance to share some quality adventuring with those friends. My hope is to inspire others to use their skills as pilots and the tool of the airplane to build great adventures. Go out and fly!
