Loving the night

Some things in life are just too good not to share. One of those rolled by me last week when a longtime great friend asked me to fly to Plano, Texas. There might have been a bit of confusion because he chose Major's Field near Greenville to meet a business party.

Greenville was a bit familiar as it is home to what used to be Ross Perot's E-Systems. While in the Air Force I dealt with them a bit as their function in life was to modify our C-135's in the reconnaissance and elint business. Turning off the taxiway and noting large military shapes, I was greeted with a firm "Go Away!" The little airplane terminal was a bit further on.

Turned out I needed to hop on over to Addison Airport on the north edge of Fort Worth. Aviation-wise one busy place but no step for a stepper. I did my business and departed. One small detail, the sun was just setting in the west.

Now those who know me, this old bird rather detests flying at night, especially in single engine aircraft. Student pilots are required to gain some night experience so I grit my teeth and into the dark we venture forth. Night can be truly beautiful with unnumbered stars above and thousands of lights below. I like a big full moon to illuminate the earth just in case my engine decides to falter and I might be able to pick out a suitable place to alight.

From Fort Worth halfway to Oklahoma City, the mantle of darkness enveloped the way. Oh the lights, farms, auto traffic, cities large and small. At one point, southwest of Oklahoma City, I could spot eight brightly lite rigs drilling for oil. Along the way one really big fire, big as a house, lighted acres around as for some reason they were flaming natural gas. Then the lights of OKC looked "Bigger than Dallas" as I passed over El Reno on the west side. My eldest married daughter lived in El Reno for a time and we knew it well during the four plus years we lived just east in Moore, Oklahoma.

There was a huge high pressure system dominating our area which dictated strong winds aloft. I had flown south at 9500 feet altitude and was happy with the five- to ten-knot tail wind I had found. Time enroute just three and a half hours. Who says you can't have a tail wind both ways? And I found one by flying back north at about a thousand feet above the ground. Go a little higher and the wind shear started to nibble a rough ride and, of course, the ground became invisible, so I used the minimum safe altitude depicted on my chart. Playing a not-too-high and not-too-low game, I was able to find a 25-knot tail wind all the way. Oh, what a pleasurable ride it was. An added benefit down low was cell phone coverage all the way so I could keep Grannie Annie informed of my progress.

Leaving the myriad lights of Oklahoma City the rural lights looked pretty thin until west of Enid and Vance Air Force Base. It evidently wasn't time to night fly for the Air Force student pilots as the air waves were mostly quiet. They were busy on the way south as I flew, with permission, through their protected airspace. I would have asked if Hayes Center's Lance Wach or Trenton's Allison Smith were airborne had I known their call signs.

Alva, Oklahoma, came and went and then it became really dark over sparsely populated Kansas. Dark below miles between farmstead lights; dark above as a sliver of moon would rise 'til hours later. Again passing east of Dodge City more population and more lights plus a highway accented with flashing lights of a highway patrol in hot pursuit. An hour to go. Intrigued I note the arrays of wind generators below marked with a sea of red pinpricks of light slowly blinking on and off all sequenced together. Then came Hayes, Kansas and the long lighted string of car lights that marks I-70. White one way and parallel red tail lights going away. Hill City, then the golden lights of Decatur County feed yard, the highest spot for many many miles around. Voila finally the warm comfortable lights of McCook the feeling of home.

It was truly a magical trip. Solo and no auto pilot to make life easier. The terrain page on the Garmin GPS kept me safe. Of note, about over Hill City, I computed the wind to be from 230 degrees at 57 knots giving me an honest 25 knot tailwind. That also required a 15 degree correction to the left to make ground track good. I couldn't see the ground and they couldn't see me but I would have looked like an old dog trotting down a road with his rear legs out to the side not following the front ones.

Why yes, I fly airplanes! Why do you ask?

That is the way I saw it.

Dick Trail