Background
A year and a half ago, the thought of landing at a fly-in with 400 other aircraft on the ground, flying for nearly 40 miles straight doing touch and goes on the largest continuous flat surface in the United States, or landing an airplane in front of a crowd over a thousand strong, was nothing more than a pipe dream. At the time, I didn't have a private pilot's license— I'd never even touched the controls of an aircraft in flight.
But a lot can change in a year, or less. Last year, I started, and finished, my PPL in 60 days, and before the hard copy of my pilot's license had even shown up, I bought my first airplane, a 1956 PA-22-150 Tri-Pacer. It was love at first sight, and in the last twelve months, the Tri-Pacer and I have spent just shy of 200 hours together.
The author’s wife does a little dance to stretch after 7 hours in the Tri-Pacer on the last leg of their cross country from Chicago to Los Angeles.
Flying into the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness Area, a first taste of backcountry flying last summer.
In those first two-hundred hours, I mostly flew alone. Sure, a pilot friend came along to fly from Chicago, IL to Key West, FL so that we could both log a little simulated instrument time. My wife is always game for a ride, and even came along for the adventure when it was time to move the plane from Chicago to Los Angeles. We flew across the country in two weeks, exploring the midwest, then camping out of Johnson Creek.
The author ready to unload his airplane in French Lick, Indiana on his first camping trip with the Tri-Pacer.
The Tri-Pacer just out of its first annual at Kenosha Regional (KENW), before any backcountry flying occurred and all paint was intact.
The glimmers of the tight-knit aviation community from these first adventures left me wanting to meet even more like-minded individuals who flew airplanes.
If there was one fly-in I didn't want to miss, it was High Sierra. The largest gathering of backcountry and bush pilots in the world would be a perfect first fly-in to attend as a guy who has looked longingly at Bushwheels since day one. I'd intended to purchase a PA-22/20 taildragger, but when I found this Tri-Pacer in such good condition it seemed like a sin to pass up— but having never actually seen a PA-22/20 with Bushwheels, I wasn't sure what I was missing. It was time to see what they looked like for myself.
As the weeks waned away, and the weather reports continued to look good, I knew it was going to happen - High Sierra would be my first fly-in.
Formation low passes abound at High Sierra Fly-in, rarely with the same type-aircraft.
Decorated pilot Jon Counsell, aka Jughead— who spoke inspiringly at this years HSF (thank you Jon!)— has an incredible trip report detailing what HSF looked like two years ago, so I won't explain what STOL Drag means, or how close we were to the Black Rock desert (really close), but instead will share my experience as a low time (250 hour) pilot going to his first ever fly-in.
Inbound for HSF
The trip up from Los Angeles was pleasantly uneventful. Leaving crowded LA airspace for the Owens Valley is blissful, if often slightly turbulent. I reached for the camera and opened up the windows as the Mojave desert gave way to the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas. The Tri-Pacer cruised along pleasantly until reaching Bishop, California, when a stiff headwind kicked in (about 20 knots, which hurts when you're only going 110) forcing a turn back after getting 15 miles past the airport and running a few fuel calculations. Better to grab more fuel than to try an engine-out landing for my first time into Dead Cow. Now I understood why guys in the backcountry were carrying those Airframes Alaska fuel bags— I bought two before the end of the fly-in.
Alluvial fans near Bishop, CA covered in cattle trails - Dead Cow lake must be near.
Entering the pattern on Wednesday, it was a surprised to see that the lakebed already had a lot of airplanes— and the fly-in wasn't supposed to start until Friday morning...how many more airplanes were going to come to this lake? I'd been worried about showing up too early and offending the hosts, but clearly I wasn't the only one taking the entire week off. I'd focus on that later. It was time to land. With sunset in half an hour, traffic in the pattern was sparse. I made my calls, landing to the northeast in calm wind, and set up for a glassy water landing on the playa. Depth perception is minimal when the light is just right, and I'd heard stories of guys plopping it on their first time into Dead Cow. Fortunately the winds were calm, and the touchdown was smooth. A quick taxi to parking, and it was time to set up camp under the wing.
Sun sets on the desert night one of High Sierra Fly-in, with a display of color only found in such a remote place
The sunset ushered in an abrupt temperature drop. A pleasant 75°F became 17°F in under an hour, so we all flocked to the fire like bugs to a lone porch light. Nearly 100 pilots chatted, sharing stories of their home airports and journeys to HSF, and the sense of community was immediate. It was clear this HSF was going to be bigger— not incrementally, but exponentially— than all the years past.
Professional powered paraglider Cade Palmer warms up in the crisp morning light before the crowds arrive for his show during HSF.
Taking in the scene
Next morning, the playa was abuzz. A professional powered paraglider pilot was practicing his routine for Saturday as Kevin Quinn gave the morning briefing, and a few of us might've missed some of the things he said with the impromptu demo happening just meters from the morning fire. But, the important parts came across— stay safe, fly right traffic for Dead Cow, and go explore the Sierras with our airplanes.
It's worth noting why HSF has grown so quickly. Kevin has been organizing the fly-in for years with his buddies, but two aircraft (and their pilots) seem responsible for much of the attention if conversations around the campfire were any gauge for the reason people showed up. Time and time again, two names rang out over the playa. Draco, and the Freedom Fox.
Draco is a million-plus dollar bush plane, created by Mike Patey, that will both cruise in the flight levels and land in 100 ft on a gravel bar. It was the favorite for the STOL Drag races, and the build videos Mike created have lit the internet up— much of the experimental aircraft was hand-made by Mike, and his aircraft is one of a kind.
Draco soaks in the sunlight before the crowds flocked to check out the monster.
The Freedom Fox, flown by Trent Palmer, is Kitfox's "cub killer." Trent's videos of the Freedom Fox have garnered millions of views, inspiring countless individuals to try their hand at becoming pilots, or to at least try putting Bushwheels on their planes.
The Freedom Fox as Trent Palmer chops the throttle and slips to get down and slow for the STOL drag semifinals.
Everybody wanted to see these two go head-to-head in STOL Drag, but I'll leave the detailed coverage of STOL Drag to others. It was a fairytale story. Draco and the Freedom Fox faced off in the finals after fierce competition and some incredible pilot skill— but the moments of community were what drew me to High Sierra.
Mike Patey brought it full-circle in his acceptance speech for the STOL Drag trophy. During race day, 24 people came up to him and let them know that because of his Draco build videos, they began taking lessons for their private pilot's license. As the owner of an advertising production studio, I'd long thought about combining my love of aviation and my care for visual storytelling. Seeing how these two are growing aviation's reach was an incredible reminder of how much one guy and one plane can do if he has enough passion, and finds the right audience.
All the camera phones and iPads came out for Draco’s landings.
Watching the dust cloud that resulted every time Draco went into beta while landing was mind blowing. All senses were overloaded as the noise and dust enveloped onlookers and left us feeling like we'd stepped into the apocalypse. Watching Trent get within seconds of a million dollar airplane flying his Kitfox, which he qualified to race without even unloading his camping gear on Friday night, was fantastic. But the real joy of the fly-in for me occurred away from the crowds - around the campfire, beer in hand, sun going down, stories coming out as friendships were forged.
Walking wasn’t popular with the pilots at High Sierra - ATVs, support trucks, and dirt bikes kept pedestrians on their toes.
High Sierra, my experience
My experience involved walking away from the dusty race track and poking a head into a Pacer that had the bush wheels I'd dreamed of, then finding out the owner kept his plane down the road from my family's ranch in California. It was flying with a retired 737 captain who had enough pages in his logbook to make mine look like a cocktail napkin, but was still game to let me fly lead and make radio calls as a flight of two— my first time as a certificated pilot.
Taking a step back from the race track - and admiring a new Carbon Cub
It was learning from an experienced Canadian backcountry pilot about how to get my O-320 warm using dryer duct hose and a trusty MSR Whisperlite stove, because I'd never had to start up outside of a warm hangar, even after almost a hundred hours flying in the Illinois winter. And then shopping for that dryer ducting with 3 other pilots, confusing the heck of out of the Ace Hardware saleswoman as we all walked out with the same small sections of 4" tubing on a Sunday morning.
The indestructible MSR Whisperlite stove splits duty between making water for coffee and warming the engine in the morning hours.
A dedicated engine blanket is nice, but a sleeping bag works fine in a pinch.
It was circling a Boeing 747 on the playa and making my first true off-airport landing in the Black Rock desert (Dead Cow did have a marked runway, after all, so that arrival didn't count). It looked easy enough as I watched the other planes touch down, but I was also the only trike landing out there, and every taildragger was, well, dragging the tailwheel into the soft stuff. After deciding to land with the four-wheeler tracks on the playa, instead of across them as the taildraggers were doing to allow for a quicker taxi to the 747, I touched down soft and kept the nose wheel light. It was a fun, if very docile, introduction to off-airport ops.
Circling the 747 parked on the edge of the Black Rock Desert
Taildraggers taxi up to the 747 on the edge of the Black Rock Desert, but the Tri-Pacer parked a little further out where the ground was firm and the nose wheel was safe.
It was also about learning to get comfortable flying next to other aircraft. Before HSF, I'd always puckered up when my Stratus + iPad started showing targets— 5 nm, opposite direction, 700 ft separation. Now I understand just how far away that is— because flying with a mile of spacing between friends over the Black Rock desert, performing touch and goes and staying in ground effect for much of the ride, changed how I see flying with others. It was no longer something to be avoided, but instead something to be cherished. Flying tight patterns with close spacing to keep the traffic flowing into Dead Cow, reinforced how safely the journey with friends into some of the most beautiful country in the world can be as long as we all communicate and fly in accordance with the expectations of our fellow pilots.
Low and slow with new friends, descending for a touch and go on the playa while headed back from the 747 to camp on Dead Cow.
Walking away from a week in the desert with a new set of aviators from around the world to call friends, I couldn't even make it back to Whiteman airport (KWHP) without a pit stop at a new buddy's home airport, Santa Paula, CA (KSZP). An oasis for general aviation, SZP is home to hundreds of gorgeous vintage aircraft, aerobatic airplanes, and guys who love to chat by their hangars. The stop was a perfect way to cap off the trip, and to remember that sometimes we don't even need a big fly-in to make friends. Beautiful pockets of the aviation community are everywhere, waiting to be found if we just take the time to make that extra stop, follow up on that suggestion, and explore everything that excites us as aviators. After a few hours at SZP, it was time to bring the Tri-Pacer home, to clean the dust out of places I never knew my airplane had, and, of course, to start planning for the next fly-in.
