Monday morning, bright and early, I arrived at my hangar on Whiteman Airport, in the Los Angeles area. I filled Sting with car gas, checked the oil, and I was off. My suitcase, charts and flight plan were in the co-pilot seat, which made a nice desk.
I climbed to 9500 feet so as to cross above Las Vegas Class B airspace. Sting didn’t mind the altitude as much as this 85 year old pilot that can’t use his commercial license or his instrument rating and has to limit himself to 10,000 feet, or else go pass a physical. I could teach in the Sting if I could get insurance for it.
Sting got her first dose of 100 octane at Mesquite Airport, near Morman Mesa. Nice bathroom too.
Back in the air and on to Provo, Utah, which is just south of Salt Lake City. A very interesting flight. You gradually lose sight of Lake Mead, backed by Hoover Dam on the Colorado River, only to fly over the Virgin River Gorge, and then over level land with high mountains on the right (east side) of St. George and then over Utah Lake to the Provo Airport, right next to the lake. After landing, ground informed me that I lost something on the runway. After parking, an airport truck pulled up and handed me my right wheel cover. It seems that, at my just finished annual inspection, the rear holding screw was not secured and, on landing, it backed out and the pant flipped over in front of the wheel and I ran over my own wheel pant. After bending brackets so they didn’t rub, I felt okay to go on with one wheel cover. It didn’t seem to make any difference in the way Sting flew.
The Raddison Hotel picked me up so I spent the night in Provo. The next day I was back to the Sting, and so with more 100 octane through a pass to Heller, a beautiful flight over a river with dams and lakes with boats and sailboards below. Over Heber I turned north and followed the river to Evanston and Fort Bridger. Now I’m up on the high plains of Utah and Wyoming heading almost due east. I stopped at Rock Springs, elevation 6,700, for gas, sandwich and the usual. The FBO there is great. The lady at the counter remembered me from the year before when I stopped there with my Piper Tomahawk. They have an old car and just hand you the keys to go into town.
Off again past medicine Bow to land at Scots Bluff, which has a lovely restaurant on the field. I rented a Hertz car. I have stopped at Scots Bluff several times in past years so I know my way around town quite well. I’ve landed there in a Skyhawk, a Piper Arrow, a Mooney 201 (several times) and a Piper Tomahawk, and now in a Sting.
Then next day I was up and away over Ainsworth, Alliance, O’Neil, Yankton, Worthington, Fairmont and Rochester, landing at LaCrosse on the banks of the Big Missouri. I spent an extra night because of weather. Next through Volk MOA to Stevens Point Airport, where Piper Owners Association was holding a fly-in. Two days before Oshkosh begins, they have fun and educational programs. On the first three days of Oshkosh they charter a bus to Oshkosh. What an easy way to go, nice hotels with rooms and good friendships.
One of the interesting things is their show and tell event with all at the airport. Each pilot describes his plane as he sees it and what he has done to and with it. You cant imagine the interest and questions about Sting and how an 85 year old man could get that little thing over the mountains. From last year they remembered my beautiful Piper Tomahawk, which made the cover photo on Piper magazine. Sting gave a couple of demo rides. Few could believe that Sting could do what she does, expecially with such an old man flying it, and with no medical. It is fun being an Octogenarian pilot. I would instruct in the Sting if affordable insurance were available.
The experience of flying a real light plane is wonderful, to view this country from the Sting’s bubble is impossible to describe. Don’t ever worry about Sting's ability to climb. I call her a homesick Angel. I wish I had long range tanks. I am no longer leery of the Rotax engine and its nice not to have oil on the belly of Sting.
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