First impressions

As I write on Monday afternoon the temperature is a perfect 75 degrees, the sky is blue and there is a gentle zephyr out of the East. Grannie Annie is sitting in an easy chair in shade under the awning. The sounds and smoke trails in the sky a mile or so to the east of our camper hint at the afternoon airshow in progress.

Yes we are attending AirVenture, the largest Fly-In Air-Show in the world. Over 500,000 aviation enthusiasts from around the world are expected to attend. Well maybe most are enthusiasts, the number in spirit akin to Grannie Annie that go along just to humor the aviation nut that came with marriage, are appreciated but go uncounted. The big show is held annually at Whitman field, the Municipal airport of Oshkosh, Wisconsin.

Obviously there aren't enough hotels/motels in this somewhat rural area to accommodate a half million visitors for just one week out of the year. Probably a majority of the visitors "bring their own" accommodations. Hundreds of acres of mowed green grass on and adjacent to the airport are occupied by small "pull behind" campers like ours, big huge fancy diesel pusher motor homes, fifth wheels, a couple Volkswagen Kombis in sight, many tents for sleeping on the ground, pickup slide ins n-- you imagine it and one can probably find it here today. The camping grounds are furnished with central restrooms and shower facilities plus stores where one can buy the essentials. Most of the food vendors are located inside the fence of the AirVenture grounds itself.

Grannie was visiting with another lady this morning that pointed out that she and her husband, a P-51 pilot that flew in the Korean War, think of this place being like Disneyland. Clean! There is not a scrap of paper on the ground anywhere. People are polite, open and friendly, just having a good time together. "Where you from? Did you fly in? What kind of airplane do you have?" goes the conversation with total strangers whether at a bench taking a break or joining them at a picnic table near a lunch stand.

For this old couple leaving a droughty-looking Nebraska, the drive across mostly green and growing Iowa was a treat. One evening we chose to set up camp on the bank of the Mississippi River downtown Dubuque, Iowa. The far bank across the broad river was the green of Wisconsin and Illinois just around the corner. Several persons were bank fishing and a couple more in boats near the opposite bank doing the same? Any fish there? I asked. "Last year they caught a 450 pound catfish just "out there," was the answer. Oh, to dream.

Seated in our easy chairs on the riverbank just behind our camper we watched the twilight dim and stars begin to pop out. Then almost silently a huge tugboat pushing a dozen large barges slid past headed downstream to the Gulf of Mexico. Probably loaded with grain from the Heartland, how would one know?

The town of Dubuque is a jewel nestled in steep hills, rare for Iowa, along America's greatest river. Ancient by America's standards, it was founded by the French who seemed to travel only along the water courses in what was then frontier country. We had visited the city before spending several hours at their fine general aviation airport but to travel the winding streets and experience the local people was a different treat. We didn't scratch the surface and feel we need to go back first chance.

Agricultural Wisconsin is a wondrous place to see. Many more farmsteads per mile than back home, most with large buildings, houses, barns and outbuildings. Pride of place is how Grannie termed the neat display in town and country. Virtually all have had their green grass manicured like a well kept lawn. Picturesque comes to mind. Many farms complete with a working dairy and, oh, an awesome variety of cheese.

Fields are smaller, irregular in shape and many tree lined but the machinery comes in the same red and green color that we are used to. The corn is all tasseled and way tall and the soybeans are a strong healthy dark green. Wheat and yes oats too, harvest is now in full swing. Not a center pivot in sight until we arrived at the far east side of the state. No need to irrigate, some things just aren't fair.

Acres and acres of parking adjacent to the runways here are occupied with aircraft that have flown in to the event. I tried to convince Grannie that we could just fly here in our four-place Piper Arrow. Then we could throw a tarp over the wing and sleep beneath. That didn't sell. Her minimum accommodation includes a potty, a shower and air-conditioning if needed. Hot water a gas stove, microwave, and refrigerator are also on the minimum list and WiFi and TV would be nice. I also promised that we'd leave in a couple days if she desired so we'll see how that goes.

Local school buses -- hey school is out so why not use them? -- tour the grounds to collect and haul people to and from the gate. Some people walk, many ride bikes (reminds me of England) and scooters, four wheelers, motorcycles are counted too.

"Ride what you brought." No matter, it is just to the gate, inside the grounds people either walk or ride the abundant trams all pulled by small John Deere tractors. Vendors, just anything related to aviation, have booths and displays. I feel just like the kid in the proverbial candy shop. Old people, young people, families with kids, it is exciting and everyone seems to be having a good time.

Grannie has noticed that everyone seems perky and excited in the morning. Then she tickles as they look tired and draggy heading back home at the end of the day. So far so good.

That is how I saw it.

Dick Trail