The Coast-To-Coast Flight Of Titan N165J

By John M. Doig
Titan N165J builder-owner

27 September 2000

I departed Wiscasset Maine at 10:30 in the morning bound for the Warren-Sugarbush airport in Vermont. I expected this leg of the flight to take two hours. The air was seemingly calm but the air mass was moving well. My average speed was around sixty miles per hour. I was supposed to meet friends in Vermont at noon. As I was over flying the Fryeburg Maine airport, it was clear that I was going to be at least an hour late. I landed at Fryeburg to call ahead and inform them that I was going to be late. I took on fuel and continued the flight. The actual flight time for the planned two-hour flight was in reality, over three hours.

30 September 2000

I stayed two days in Vermont my coarse took me over Glen Falls, New York where I would change course for Hamilton, and with another coarse change I would proceed to Cortland County Airport, New York where I planned to spend the night. The headwind that I had encountered in route to Vermont were still holding me back and I decided to land at Glen Falls and refuel. The course out of Glen Falls was a more Southwesterly and my ground speed increased to eighty miles per hour. Making better ground speed increases fuel efficiency and thus increases the range. The next leg went as planned and I over flew Hamilton and landed as Cortland where I am spending the night.

The flight here was beautiful as today was a very clear day. The northern part of New York State is sparsely populated and the terrain is rolling heavily forested hills. The foliage is in the first stages of the seasonal change that precludes winter. The maples seem to be the first to change and their bright red color is striking when the sun strikes them at just the right angle.

Tomorrow I will try to make at least 600 Miles. If the winds are favorable this should not be difficult.

1 October 2000

Last night I stayed in the motel from hell. It was expensive at the old Super Motel 8 in Cortland, New York. When I open the door to the room I could not help but notice that the room had not been made up from the night before. The desk clerk gave me another room but the phone did not work in that room and it was a smoking room. Later, when I wanted to use the vending machines to supplement my dinner, none of them were functional. I was lucky to have had a ride to the motel last night. But I could not find a ride back to the airport in the morning so I walked the three miles. It took forty-five minutes.

The flights have been going well. So far there has been only one problem with the plane. The transfer pump on the right wing tank failed so I have lost the use of that fuel until I repair the problem. The plane is running well. The noise does get to you after a while though. The progress is a little slower than I would have liked but, it is what it is, and rushing it could create safety issues so I will drone along.

2 October 2000

Today was not the best of flying weather. The sky were essentially clear but the wind was strong and out of the Southwest. The first flight was only 50 miles and quite turbulent. I landed at Piqua, Ohio for fuel, as the next airport, where I had planned to refuel, was at least another hour away. My ground speed was a miserable 45 to 55 mph. The next leg I had planned to fly 150 miles but again the head winds and turbulence foiled those plans. I decided to call it a day and landed at Mettel field in Connersville Indiana, a distance of only 53 miles in one hour and eight minutes. It was a full ninety-degree cross wind landing with about as much crosswind as the Titan is capable of dealing with.

As luck would have it, this turned out to be a good move. Mettel field is a skydiving base and the people I met at the airport could not have been more helpful. When they found out that I had a problem with the right fuel tank, they ask me if I wanted to use one of their hangars to troubleshoot the problem. They moved their jump plane out of the hangar and told me that I could use any tools they had. I needed to find a hardware store to buy some epoxy so one the "boys" drove me into town and back and even bought me lunch. I felt obligated to listen to a complete history of Connersville, his past marriages, and his entire life in general. The starter on his car "Anne" was intermittent so every other start he would have to open the hood and turn the engine a little bit and the starter would grind the engine to life. I was surprised to learn that he planned to drive "Anne" to Oshkosh for the next EAA fly in. I thanked him and wished him luck on the drive.

I was able to repair the fuel pump problem and fix a small engine oil leak and give the plane a wash. It had been frustrating to look out at the fuel tank and know that there was precious fuel that was totally unusable. It was about half full when the transfer system failed so when the left tank was empty the right wing was heavy and left hand pressure had to be constantly be exerted to keep the airplane flying straight and when the tank was full the opposite was the case.

I stayed in a motel that is only a half-mile from the airport. It is a no frills motel and only $30 a night. I only need a bed, shower, toilet, and a phone line; the rest is a waste of money to stay only one night anyway.

3 October 2000

After saying goodbye to Butch and the boys at Mettel field, I was airborne at 08:35 CST. The sky was clear and more importantly, the winds were calm. The sky gods were good to their prodigal son on the first flight of the day. I was able to make 90 miles per hour over the ground. I was thinking, now this is flying. I landed at Carmi Illinois for fuel and lunch. I always feel a little embarrassed to have to ask the people at the airport, "what state is this"? The State Lines are not clearly defined in many areas on the sectional charts. In fact, I did not know until I landed at Corning, Arkansas that I had over-flown Missouri.

From Carmi Illinois I flew on to Cairo Illinois. Cairo in located at the most southern end of Illinois where the Ohio River converges with the Mississippi. I fueled up at Cairo and waited for the winds to clam. The afternoon winds had increased to the where my ground speed had slowed to 65 to 70 mph. It made sense to wait for the evening wind to make better time and burn less fuel. With the increase in wind also comes turbulence so waiting for lesser winds also ensures a more comfortable flight.

This part of the country is vast flat farmland. From horizon to horizon are fields of crops. Harvesting could be seen in many of the fields I flew over. It was a busy time for the farmers. For some reason, they were burning off many of the fields. The smoke would completely obscure visibility in places. I could smell the burning from my 2500-foot altitude.

Leaving Cairo I immediately crossed the Mississippi River into Missouri and continued on to land at Corning Arkansas where I had decided to spend the night. After landing I was unable to locate a fuel pump. I became aware that this was not your typical general aviation airport. My first clue was all of the crop duster parked on the field. I taxied up to a hanger with a makeshift fuel tank in front and shut down. As I walked up to the hangar, the door began to open; I waited to talk with the person inside to find out if fuel was available. He asks me if I needed anything and I told I use some fuel and a motel for the night. He told me that they did not sell fuel at this airport. I have this look of incredulousness that I reserve for times like these. He offered to give me some fuel from his private stock as long as I did not tell anyone that he sold it to me. Can you spell liability? I told him that I would not say a word to anyone.

He introduced himself as Mark and said that there is a motel in town and if I needed a ride he would be glad to give me a lift. I said that I would appreciate a ride to the motel very much but first I would have to secure my plane. He said he would ask the people at the maintenance hangar next door if I could store my plane in their hangar overnight. He They were more than willing to store the strange looking plane that the crazy pilot was flying to California. They even offered me a ride back to the airport in the morning.

Mark dropped me off at the motel and gave me his phone number and said that if I could not find a ride to call him at work and he would come drive me back to the airport.

I must admit that this extent of friendliness was unexpected but greatly appreciated. I was not looking forward to another motel to airport trek.

Tomorrow I hope to be in Sallisaw Oklahoma by early afternoon if the winds are cooperative. Sallisaw is almost half way between Maine and CA.

4 October 2000

I had a good nights sleep after a steak dinner at a local diner last night. The food was good but the service was slooooow. I called the hanger where the Titan spent the night and asked the service manager if I could bum a ride back out to the airport. He sent one of his people out to collect me in his 4X4 pickup (no rifle rack). I ask how much I owed him for the use of his hangar and he refused payment. I thanked him profusely for his kindness. The aircraft was quite the odyssey next to the crop dusters and "normal" planes and the mechanics gave it a good looking over. They found it strange that I had flown an aircraft this small all the way from Maine. I do believe this sense of wonder will intensify the further west I fly.

I departed Corning Arkansas at 09:15 CST. The winds were calm and the sky was clear as I headed towards Melbourne Miller Field Arkansas: a distance of 70 miles. This was an over flight waypoint. I intentionally use airports as navigational waypoint when possible. They are easy to spot from the air and in the event I run into strong head winds, as I have so far, I am able to land for fuel, which I also have so far.

The White River lies just the west of Melbourne, which is the beginning of the Ozark Mountains. The Ozarks are not high as Mountains go, only about 3000 feet, more like high rolling hills. There are heavily wooded with many rivers flowing in every direction. There does not seem to be a pattern of terrain as there is in Vermont. In Vermont the mountains and valleys run generally north south but the Ozarks run every which way. Seems to be a lot of Oak, Elm and Maple and not so much of the conifers. The seasonal color change is late to the region but some is evident although certainly not as much as back east. (I have always wanted to use that term "back east")

Searcy Country Airport is part of the town of Marshall Arkansas. It is surrounded by the Ozark hills. The airport consists of a runway, ramp, a closed hangar and that's it. On the ramp there was one aircraft tied down and a truck with a trailer attached. There was no one on the field and no office. A sign attached to fuel pump instructed me to call a phone number for fuel and someone would drive out from town and unlock the fuel pump. I tried to call but the batteries went dead in my new super high tech cell phone that I had purchased for emergencies and situations like this. So much for technology enriching my life.

In about 10 minutes a SUV drove onto the field and I ask the two occupants if they were the fuel people. They said that they were not and had only come to look at the plane that they had seen circling for landing. They knew the fuel person and told me that they would call him when they left which they did after about 10 minutes. After they left, I walked over to the truck and trailer and wondered what this strange trailer was used for. I found out a short time later as a small helicopter arrived at the airport and proceeded to land on the trailer. It turned out to be a Sheriff Department helicopter and they were out turning taxpayers dollars into noise looking for people growing marijuana. I later learned that growing marijuana is a major cash crop of many of the midwestern states. I wish them a good growing season and the Sheriff's Department good hunting.

After they shutdown the aircraft, they asked me if I need fuel, I told them that two guys had been here and said that they would call the fuel person. The pilot said that they had to go into town and would be back shortly and if I was unable to acquire fuel by that time he would give me some of the helicopter fuel from the tank they had in the truck. This was the good cop: the town was probably too small the have a bad cop. They left and a few minutes later two more SUVs showed up on the field. One truck was the fuel guy and the other were three people that wanted to see the plane. One of the spectators was an ex-B17 pilot from WWII that had flown his bomber to England just in time for the end of the war so needless to say he did not have a lot of combat time. The fuel guy had given the key to his brother-in-law and did not know what happened to it or his brother-in-law. The spectator truck guy called town on his CB and a guy showed up that knew where the key was. It turned to be somewhere in the hanger. With the fellow that knew where the key was, were his wife and granddaughter. I offered the let the granddaughter sit in the plane while I fueled the plane. She seemed content to pretend fly the Titan and the adults took several photos. By this time the Sheriff had returned and the ramp now looked like a SUV car lot. I don't think these people get out much.

I thanked everyone and took off for the one hour and 45 minute flight to Sallisaw Oklahoma. By this time it was early afternoon and the winds had picked up making the going slow and bumpy. I averaged only about 70 miles per hour. I crossed the highest part of the Ozarks and dropped down into the Arkansas River Valley. I flew just north of Fort Smith Arkansas staying a little north of my course line to avoid flying into their airspace. I crossed the Oklahoma Stateline, I notice these things now, and made an uneventful landing at Sallisaw airport where I will be spending a few days visiting relatives. It will be good to take a break from flying for a while. I will also do a little maintenance on the plane.

10 October 2000

This morning I departed Sallisaw, Oklahoma feeling rested and well fed thanks to Carol and Chuck, my sister-in-law and her husband. The sky was partly cloudy and there was virtually no wind. I took off to the south and climbed to 2500 and turned on coarse to the southwest to my first waypoint, McAlester Oklahoma. With the winds being calm my ground speed was a respectable 90 mph. The air was smooth and I was content to take advantage of this condition while it lasted.

The terrain in this part of Oklahoma is low rolling hills with about as much open farmland as stands of trees. The predominant colors are brown, yellow and green. There seem to be a lot of water in this State what with the Arkansas River, many lakes and smaller rivers.

I over flew McAlester and headed for Ardmore Oklahoma where I would land and take on fuel and lunch. This would be my last stop before crossing the Red River into Texas. The Red River is not, in actual fact, red more like a kind of brown and blue.

The flight to Ardmore could best be described in one word, that word being COLD. With the outside air temperature being 44 and the plane being drafty and without heat I was literally shivering upon landing at Ardmore Executive Airport. It took me about an hour for my feet to again make their presents known.

The plane always draws a lot of attention and invariable the same old question was asked.

The sequence will change but basically it is the same two-part question.

Wer ya headed?

California!

Whoa boy, ya sure got along way ta go thar!

(I like the next part the best) Whered ya cum frum?

Maine!

Whoa, whoa! Djew say Maine, like the state Maine.

Ya, Maine.

In dat thing? There is no answer to this question so I just nodded.

Hey Bill, he flew dat plane all da way frum Maine.

Maine, lik the state Maine?

Ya dat one.

Whoa dats a long way.

It sure is, now can I have some fuel.

(My spell checker just freaked out)

I departed Ardmore and headed for Olney Texas. The Red River is very close to Ardmore and as I crossed the river the high cloud covered I had had since leaving Sallisaw ended and clear skis prevailed. The wind had picked up and my ground speed backed off to 80 mph and turbulence was rearing its ugly head.

There was a noticeable terrain change upon entering Texas. There were the same rolling hills as in Oklahoma but the stands of hardwood trees were replaced with a more stunted bush like tree. The plains of Texas look very flat but this is misleading. The further southwest I flew the higher the terrain became. This was not immediately noticeable but after a while it appeared as though by some unperceivable act I had lost altitude. A close look at the chart explained what was happening. Ardmore Airport is 800 feet, Olney Airport is 1300 feet and Sweetwater Airport is 2400 feet and the look of the terrain does not appreciably change.

When I landed at Olney there were a line of bright yellow crop dusters in front of the many hangars. I learned that Olney is where the Ag Tractor is built. This aircraft is the largest Ag plane I have seen. Equipped with a PT6 turbine engine and a five bladed propeller this plane can climb straight up with a full hopper. This must be nirvana for the Ag pilots who are lucky enough to work for an outfit that operates these aircraft.

By the time I had fueled my plane and finished gawking at the Ag Tractors, the wind had increased to 15 to 20 Knots out of the south and I knew I would be in for a bumpy flight to Sweetwater. I was right. I tried climbing to a smoother altitude but settled for a height that would put me at an altitude that was 2000 feet above the height of my destination airport. That would ensure that I cleared all the towers along the route and automatically compensated for the increasing rise in terrain.

I landed at Avenger Field, Sweetwater Texas at 18:30. I was concerned that the airport would be closed and I would have to find some creative transportation to a Motel. As luck would have it, the operator was on his way home when he saw me in the traffic pattern and, unlike some airport operators, he returned to help me out. We fueled the plane and tied it down for the night. The operator gave me directions to a motel and the keys to the airport courtesy car.

All in all it was not a bad day, a little chilly, but not a bad day.

11 October 2000

Today was a no fly day. Low ceiling and high winds keep me on the ground in Sweetwater. I spent the day learning a little something of Avenger Field.

During World War II This field, like many in Texas, trained pilots for the Armed Services. Avenger Field however was unique. This was the only training field in the US that trained the women pilots of the WASP Corps, or the Women Air Force Service Pilots. Just over 1000 were trained here. These women pilot performed non-combative flying duties in order to free their male counterparts for combat duty. They flew every type of aircraft the military had from high performance fighters to heavy bombers. They performed new aircraft acceptance test flights, they ferried aircraft overseas to Europe and the Pacific and relocated aircraft within the US. In the morning a typical WASP pilot could be flying a P38 fighter and then a B17 bomber in the afternoon. They were very well trained and had a safety record that surpassed that of the military

There is a monument to the WASP service pilots close to the airport ops building which has the names of all the pilots that were graduated from Avenger Field along with a statue of a woman aviator with a plaque inscribed with the words General Hap Arnold the commanding general of the Army Air Force at the time. It is an interesting piece of American history.

I met a couple of "Old boys" on the field that had also built their own planes. One of the planes, a Sky Bike, is powered by what is called half a VW engine. This is a Volkswagen engine with two cylinders removed. It produces half the horsepower, which is more than enough for this single place Ultra light aircraft. The other fellow built an aircraft that was so highly modified that the designer would not accept any responsibility for it. This plane has an engine that was taken from a surplus generator set and again highly modified for this application. We did a lot of hangar flying and they even bought me lunch at a local diner.

In the afternoon I adjusted the valves on the Titan using tools I borrowed from my newfound friends. They of coarse had to watch me and inject their opinions from time to time but that is the price I paid for not carrying the proper tools. I also discovered a siphoning problem with the wing tanks. It seemed that overnight the wing tank siphoned into the main fuselage tank causing it to overflow into the tail section. The fuel would then in turn run down the tail boom and out on the tail wheel. At first I couldn't figure out what was happening or what the liquid was. The fuel had mixed with the newly recoated ramp and produced what look like oil. It made no sense that oil would be running out of the tail boom. The answer came when I pushed the plane into the hangar to adjust the valves. Against the light colored concrete floor the blue dyed fuel was very evident. I can also see though the wing tanks, in the right light, and I noticed that they were now only one quarter full. I will have to change the procedure for fueling those tanks in future.

Tomorrow I hope to be on my way. There is a major mountain range between here and El Paso that I have been obsessing over since before I left Maine. I had planned a route, which I thought would be the lowest terrain to traverse the mountains but there was another route called the old mail route though Guadalupe Pass. This route required me to climb to 10 or 11 thousand feet and deal with contrary winds and possibly severe turbulence. The highest altitude I had had the Titan to so far is 6500 feet. I was not sure that I could reach the higher altitude and if so, if there would be any performance reserve left if I could.

I spoke to several pilots here that have made the flight from here to El Paso and they reconfirm that my original route was the best one. They then proceeded to tell me of all the planes that did not make it though Guadalupe Pass

12 October 2000

Today was a copy of yesterday: low ceiling with even stronger winds, 30 plus mph, steady.

I finished reading a book that I was given to read when I left Wiscasset, Maine. It was written by the brother of a fellow I met at the Wiscasset airport who did some welding on some parts for my plane. It is a story of his two eldest brothers who flew a prewar Piper Cub from New Jersey to southern California in 1966. At the time, they were seventeen and fifteen, the youngest to ever fly from coast to coast. Coincidentally, they landed here at Avenger Field to repair a broken elevator spring.

The two "Old boys" were working on their planes today so I decided to watch them and of coarse, offer my expert mechanical advice. I have learned an interesting fact of human nature which is, that people that freely give their advice and opinions are not all that receptive to other people's advice and opinions.

Giving advice is an art form. One does not simply express an opinion, rather one states it in a round about way. Such as: On my airplane I would not do it that way. Or, if I were you I would do it this way. Or, on real airplanes they do it this way. For some strange reason my opinion did not seem to be very well accepted. I could have sworn they were ignoring me.

The waiting is difficult for me, difficult not giving in to the temptation to continue the flight in unfavorable conditions just to be on my way, but tomorrow is another day.

13 October 2000

I decided to bite the bullet and continue the flight in spite of the approaching cold front, the twenty-knot winds, the 2200 feet ceiling and the fact that it was Friday the 13th. I left Sweetwater at 09:30 and headed toward Odessa Texas, 118 miles west of Avenger Field. There was an overcast sky and headwinds; my ground speed was only 75 mph. This is the IFR part of the flight, the I FOLLOW ROADS part. I will be following Interstate 20 though the mountains and continue following I20 until it intercepts Interstate 10 and follow I10 to El Paso.

Odessa in just west of Midland and I had to divert to the north to avoid flying into the airspace of the Midland commercial airport. I flew though the cold front, that had been very slowly moving west, almost directly over Midland. The front was a mild one having dumped most of its energy and precipitation on New Mexico. I flew though only very light rain. After passing though the front the skies cleared and the winds subsided and my ground increased to a comfortable 85 mph.

The stop in Odessa was a brief one and I was back in the air in 20 minutes. This part of West Texas is devoid of everything with the exception of old oil wells. The land is very flat with little agriculture. My next intended stop was Pecos but I was making such good groundspeed that I decided to continue on to Van Horn's Culbertson County Airport. Just after Pecos the terrain start to rise from 2600 feet to 8700 feet. At this point I20 goes though a pass of about 5000 feet. Culbertson County Airport lies beyond the highest Mountains I encountered on the southern route. So once there I felt the rest of the trip should be a little easer flying.

After taking on fuel in Van Horn, I flew the 105 miles to West Texas Airport, which is located just outside El Paso Texas. When I landed at West Texas Airport I ask the airport manager if there was a motel close by. He told me that the motels were in town about five miles away but that would not be a problem because they have an airport courtesy car. He told me he would bring the car over while I was secured my plane. I had no sooner finished tying down the Titan when he drives up with this old diesel powered Cadillac. He handed me the keys telling me that "You have to warm her up first or she won't start". I told him that I was familiar with the idiosyncrasies of operating diesel vehicles and that I would take good care of his airport courtesy car. I must admit that I felt a little silly pulling up to the motel 6 in a Cadillac.

Tomorrow I want to get an early start and take advantage of the good weather left in the wake of the last cold front and fly as far as I can before the next front moves across my flight path

14 October 2000

"To get to Deming New Mexico you just follow the runway heading, 210 degrees out of West Texas Airport to the Rio Grand River, 8 miles, don't expect a big river, it is more like a ditch. Stay below 5000 feet to stay out of El Paso airspace and then head for the tall smoke stack, you can't miss it. When you come to the smokestack you will see the railroad tracks, you can't miss them, then follow the tracks to Deming, you can't miss it."

Thus was the "Local Knowledge" advice from Phil the manager and owner of West Texas Airport. Phil built the airport with his own two hands 25 years ago, or so he says. But whether he did or not, this is the way I flew to Deming, New Mexico. This is the other part of IFR flying: the I Follow Railroads part. I didn't miss it.

I was reluctance to turn in my diesel powered silver El Dorado courtesy car but I had to be on my way.

I left West Texas at 09:35 Local time. I would have left sooner but a helicopter had just landed. It was on a delivery flight from the Robertson Helicopter Factory in Torrance California to somewhere back east. I wanted to talk to the delivery pilot with regard to his routing from California. At that point in my flight, I still had not decided on my route to Northern California. The helicopter pilot was of no help. His comment, when I asked him which route he used to cross the mountains was, "Since the Robertson R44 can cruise at 14,000 feet we can cross anywhere we want" I had always thought helicopter pilots were smug.

With clear skies and calm winds my ground speed was 95 mph. I had intended to land in Deming for fuel but because I was making good time so I decided to over fly Deming and continue on to Lordsburg. I continued making good time and while approaching Lordsburg I decided to continue on to Cochise County Airport, Wilcox Arizona. Wilcox is in the middle of nowhere: which is probably why they call it Cochise County, a good place to hide if you are a renegade Indian with the entire US Cavalry looking for you.

This was the longest flight leg I have flown so far, almost three hours covering 222 miles. I landed with about a thirty-minute fuel reserve. For me, this is cutting it a little close, as I like to have at least a 45-minute fuel reserve.

The Women that fueled the plane had a considerable amount of flying experience and we discussed a practical route into California. I had planed to fly to Imperial County California via Gila Bend and then head North from there. She pointed out that Gila Bend has no fuel and it would be more practical to fly North over Tucson and refuel in Eloy. Then head onto Buckeye, pickup Interstate 10 and follow it to Blythe California. This sounded like a practical way to go.

It was warm by the time I took off out of Wilcox and the density altitude was pushing 6000 feet. The Titan did not like this situation at all and the climb was very sluggish. I had to make a turn to avoid the town, as I was concerned I would take a few residential TV antennas with me. I am sure there is a lesson here about overloaded aircraft and high-density altitude flying situations.

I climbed to 1000 feet above the ground and followed I10 to Tucson. I had originally planned to go around Tucson airspace but after looking at the chart; their airspace only went to 6600 feet. Since I was already cruising at 5000 feet I decided to climb to 6600 feet and fly directly over Tucson. I had always wanted to see Davis Monthan Air force Base. This is where the military stores and scraps their old planes. There are acres of military aircraft stored there. From 6600 feet most of them were recognizable: B52s, C141s, C130s, F4, F111s, and many I could not recognize.

I landed at Eloy Arizona for fuel. Eloy is probably the biggest skydiving base in the world. I have never seen so many Twin Otter jump planes in one place at the same time. When I landed there was a DC3 taking off with 35 jumpers aboard. I am sure that could almost qualify as air pollution.

My next stop, and where I planed to spend the night, is Buckeye Arizona. There was no one attending the airport when I landed and I had no idea where I would spend the night. I struck up a conversation with a guy and his teenage daughter that had just returned from a local flight. They offered to drive me to the only motel in town, some five miles distant. They even offered to pick me up in the morning and return me to the airport. I thanked them profusely; yet another airport to motel trek quelled.

Tomorrow I should be in California and with any luck, land in Redding day after tomorrow, that is, of coarse weather permitting.

15 October 2000

The fellow that gave me a ride to the motel in Buckeye picked me up at 06:30 am. It was a beautiful morning. The almost full Moon was still high in the western sky and the Sun was just appearing above the eastern horizon. The sky was clear and the winds calm and the temperature was a cool 65 degrees. On take off the plane performed noticeably better and actually decided to climb for a change.

The flight to Blythe California over Interstate 10 was mostly desert until I crossed the Colorado River and entered California. The area along the river is very green and is quite a contrast to the Arizona desert. Even without the interstate I could have navigated the first leg of the flight by heading towards the setting Moon.

From Blythe, I decided to head northwest up to Barstow-Daggett following the railroad to where it joined Interstate 40 and then following it to Barstow. This was one of the most interesting terrains of the entire trip. It is the closest I will ever be to flying over a moonscape. With the exception of the railroad, there is literally nothing there. I flew over the remains of an ancient volcano, perfectly cone shaped with a crater in the center. The lava had flowed in one direct and was plainly visible from 1000 feet above the ground. This was very close to two, very large dry lakebeds. I would imagine that when the volcano cone was formed it was under water.

The route I had planned to the San Joaquin Valley was via Tehachapi Pass. The shortest route from Daggett to the pass was to follow Interstate 15. Unfortunately, this route entering R-2515, a very well defined and enforced military restricted area around Edwards Air Force Base. While over Barstow I called Joshua Approach, I don't know where they come up with these names, to ask "permission to transition R-2515 at three thousand following Interstate 15". There response was a positive no! I diverted south to skirt around the edge of the restricted area. I probably violated the area in spots but it was close enough to make them think I was trying to be a good boy.

Over the western edge of Rosamond Dry Lake, I headed north for the pass. The entire eastern side of the pass is covered with windmills. There are literally thousands of them. I was glad to see that most of them were not rotating; this meant that there was little or no wind in the pass. For a small plane like my Titan this is a good thing. I climbed to 6500 feet and cleared the windmills by 500 feet. The Tehachapi Valley is very beautiful and somewhat reminiscent of a Shangri-La, a discovered Shangri-La, as there are many people living in the valley and along the mountainsides.

Flying though the pass in a small plane is very exciting. You feel very small and vulnerable. Thoughts wander as to just how reliable a Volkswagen engine really is.

Two thirds of the way though the pass, the smog of the San Joaquin Valley drifts up to meet you. I descended into it, heading for Bakersfield, dropping to an altitude of 2000 feet. I had a tailwind since leaving Dagget and had over an hours worth of fuel left when I flew overhead Bakersfield Municipal Airport. I decided to push on to Delano and landed to refuel. Since it was Sunday there was no one there. Thankfully their fuel pumps work with a credit cards so I had no problem refueling.

From Delano I flew to Merced where I will be staying the night. The further north I flew the more the smog thinned out and the valley became very green what with all the agriculture in the valley.

Tomorrow afternoon I should be landing in Redding. This will be the end of an adventure and the beginning of another one.

16 October 2000

The fellow that was on duty when I landed yesterday said that if I did not mind waiting for an hour, he would drive me to a motel after he got off work. I had no ride back so Monday morning, like old times, I walked back from the motel to Merced Airport.

The motel I stayed in was located on Motel Row. Well, it was Motel Row thirty years ago. Interesting how things come into and fall out of fashion. For example, Mirrors on the ceiling, curtains that are so threadbare that the clarity of the view though the window from inside of the room is the same as the view in to the room from the outside. Motels today just do not offer these options anymore, not to mention the little cockroaches scurrying about to keep one company. The motel was inexpensive and within a 35-minute walk to the airport so I will limit my complaints.

I departed Merced at 09:50 local time and headed directly for Yolo County Airport 117 air miles north by northwest. The haze was still present and it reduced visibility to about five miles, this is strange considering that above me there was not a cloud in the sky. There was almost no wind and my ground speed was 82 mph. Over the valley I had been cruising at an altitude of 2000 feet. This was because I was concerned that if I flew any higher I would be above the haze layer and would not be able to clearly see landmarks below.

After passing Lodi, I checked the sectional chart and noticed that there were four communications towers directly ahead of me. Normally this would not concern me as I was flying high enough to avoid any towers I had encountered so far; besides they make good references points for confirming my position. However, these towers are 2000 feet tall! It was an ominous feeling flying at 2000 feet and being eye level with the tallest towers I had ever seen. I diverted my coarse enough to give the their invisible guy wires a wide berth.

I landed at Yolo County Airport one hour and thirty minutes after I left Merced and taxied up to the Woodland Service Center for fuel. Two, blue uniformed, service techs came out of the hanger and asked me if I needed anything. I told them I need fuel. One of the techs said that they did not have 100LL avgas as they only carried jet fuel. He added that I would have to taxi to the other end of the field if I wanted avgas. So I taxied a mile to the other end of the field. I did not know that Yolo was a large skydiving jump site. Nothing was happening there at the time and I refueled, rested a bit and took off an hour latter.

Redding was 142 miles away. I climbed back to 2000 feet and settled in for the one hour and forty-five minute flight to my final destination. The Sun was at its zenith and the thermals were making the flight a little bumpy. Passing Colusa, the haze layer almost completely disappeared and the patchworks of green and brown fields were clearly visible. To the northeast, I could see the snow covered peek of Mt. Lassen. At about Red Bluff the agricultural areas were replaced with low rolling tree-covered hills. I could see the peek of Mt. Shasta to the north. Redding Benton Airport is located at far north end of the Sacramento valley. In fact, you cannot fly further north without flying over some very high Mountains.

After landing at Benton Field, the plane received the usual attention. The inevitable where did you come from question, came up. The spectators were surprised when they learned that I had started the flight from Maine (Like the state Maine). At almost every airport, including this one, people are always asking me "What are those green things on the wings for, are they drop tanks? At this point I could not resists, I told them that although it would be kind of expensive to drop your wing tanks every so often, that cost would pale in comparison to the fines that the FAA would levy against you for dropping things from an aircraft in flight. They looked at me rather sheepishly and said, "Oh Yah I didn't think of that".

Two of the fellows were members of the local chapter of the Experimental Aircraft Association. I told them that I had been a member of the Chapter 89 in Maine. They invited me to their monthly meeting tonight at 18:30. The maintenance manager of Hilltop Aviation also came over to have a look at the strange experimental aircraft.

This is the end of this flight of the Titan and the beginning of a new life for me.

These are a few of the logistical facts on the Flight from Wiscasset Maine to Redding California.

I have flown a total of 3440 miles in 50 flying hours with an average groundspeed of 69 miles per hour. It has taken eleven flying days to complete the flight. The aircraft consumed 253 gallons of 100 Low Lead aircraft fuel at a total cost of $ 600.00, which averaged $2.36 per gallon. I was only held up because of weather twice, once in Oklahoma where I had planned to stop anyway and once in Sweetwater Texas for two days. Other than that, the weather has been cooperative and I feel very fortunate to have had such good flying weather. I am also very grateful for the all the assistance and advice that I was given along the way. With all the negative news these days, it is reassuring to know that still are good people in this world that will help you and expect nothing in return but a sincere thank you.