Oh Oskosh!

Every summer for one week, more than half a million aviation enthusiasts converge on Wittman Regional Airport in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, USA to live, breathe, eat and sleep airplanes. In that one week, more than 10,000 aircraft of all sorts from the homebuilts and ultralights to the Airbus A380 and military jets fly into that and the surrounding airfields. Various events are organised including workshops on building one's own aircraft, discussion panels, new aircraft launches, talks by renown aviators and of course static and aerial displays. It is also a marketplace for almost anything connected to airplanes from whole airplanes to parts, accessories, model aircraft and sovenirs. 

As a testimony to the disciplined nature of aviators, when they leave the site after the event, not a single piece of rubbish can be found left behind. This is despite the fact that whole families practically live there in tents pitched under the wings of their aircraft.

The whole event called Airventure is run by volunteers who are members of the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) which has chapters all over the world. Even the flying displays are on voluntary basis. Pilots fly from all over the world in their own aircraft to attend the event making the airports there the busiest in the world once a year. Unusual air traffic control procedures are required to guide as many aircraft down or up in the shortest time possible. Many aircraft are of the same make and colour necessitating the controllers to request each particular pilot to wiggle his aircraft's wings to see which aircraft in the pack they are actually talking to.

Owners of a particular type of aircraft or members of a certain organisation may decide to fly in together in a large formation after meeting up at another city. This makes their arrivals spectacular events in theitr own right. Like other international events, there are also marchpasts of participants from the various countries bearing their national flags.

Some aviators use the event to set records such as the longest flight in a particular type of aircraft. I once met a New Zealander who flew round the world in a kitplane, stopping at Oskosh on the way. This same guy flew that aircraft round the world again later but in the opposite direction.

A few of my buddies have made it to Oshkosh and of course I too hope to make that trip one day. The upcoming Airventure dates are 26 July 2010, 25 July 2011, 23 July 2012 and 29 July 2014. 

About Oskosh by Harrison Ford, a passionate aviator

Oskosh 2009 Attendance

Amelia Earhart

After watching the video "Amelia" starring Hilary Swank and Richard Gere, I can't help but feel the sadness over the tragic loss of an excellent aviator, Amelia Earhart. Her accomplishments were astounding, some of which not even the male aviators had attempted.

In 1932 at 35, she had flown from Newfoundland to Ireland, two years later Hawaii to California and then Mexico to New Jersey but her round-the-world attempt in 1937 ended in her going missing towards the end of her 15-hour leg from Papua New Guinea to Howland Island. Her outdated radio could not receive the frantic transmissions from the ship "Itaca" which was supposed to guide her to the island. Ironically the ship's crew could hear her equally frantic transmissions clear as a bell. She had no ADF in her aircraft to locate the ship and apparently the ship's ADF ran out of battery making it impossible for either party to know from which direction she was flying. It was a risk that presumably had not been thoroughly considered before she commenced the trip. Howland Island is only 2.4km by 0.8km in size and 20 feet at the highest point making it almost impossible to locate from the air unless one is smack on top of it. Even then, flying into the glare of the morning sun as Amelia did would make it almost invisible. Missing it meant running out of fuel and ditching in the middle of the Pacific Ocean which she probably did.

Amelia was a dedicated Red Cross volunteer who attended to wounded soldiers and even studied for a year in the medical school of Columbia University. She is undeniably one of my most admired aviators.

Watch her last footage at:
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFmp26u6lJk

Morning Flight

From the earliest days of aviation, pilots have always cherished their morning flights. There is some romance in it because the air is cool and fresh and one can smell the dewdrops. The sun is still low over the horizon and has yet to cast its harsh rays onto the still slumbering earth. The low clouds and mist paint a surreal landscape making the pilot feel that he is both physically and mentally in cloud nine.

Most of my cross country flights are deliberately planned to start at dawn where possible. It would still be dark as one drives into the airport, park the car, unload the luggage, fill up the necessary papers at the club office, grab the plane keys (and the tech log if I'm not returning the same day) and proceed to the still sleeping aircraft. Unlocking the baggage compartment door just behind the passengers' seats, I would dump the luggage as forward as possible to maintain the aircraft's CG. I would then open the pilot's door and place my headset, checklist, GPS, maps and navlog on the passenger seat, check that the parking brake is on and then remove the chocks from the wheels and place them in the luggage compartment. Sometimes I would have to tow the nearly 1-ton aircraft myself to the flightline but usually the hangar help will lend a hand.

With the aircraft secure on the flightline, I would then jump into my car again and rush over to the Control Tower to file my flight plan, returning to the flightline with a signed copy for my retention. I would then begin to conduct my thorough checks including fuel and oil quantities. It would already be light then but the air is still fresh and cool. Having completed my external checks, I would then settle down in the captain's seat and proceed with the startup checks. A brief call to the tower for startup clearance follows and I'm now ready for that most beautiful experience - the grind of the starter motor, the whirring of the propeller blades and the engine coughing and sputtering to life finaly transforming into a loud roar. The vibration flows comfortingly from the engine to the seat bottom and through the control column into my left arm and my heart. What a feeling! Engine checks, a call to the tower requesting for taxi, brakes released and the aircraft crawls majestically to the runway holding point.

Runup checks, a glance at the windsock, landing lights on and a clearance from the tower before entering the runway for line up.  At the takeoff position, I get the ATC clearance from the tower and read back the instructions. I look out to the sky up ahead and see a sky similar to the one in this picture. 

It may look gloomy from the ground but that's a typical morning cloud layer. It is low, thin and silent. The runway stretches ahead with open arms. To a pilot, that strip of bitumen with its bold white markings is the most welcome site anywhere in the world. It bids you farewell each time you take off and welcomes you with open arms whenever you land, like a doting mother. It looks the same whichever airport in the world you may fly to.

"Clear takeoff!", feet on the brakes, I move the throttle forward to 2,000 revs. The engine sound is deafening but music to my ears. I do my CATS checks and having satisfied myself that all are "green", release the brakes, coax the throttle to full and roll down the runway. Sixty knots and I gently pull the control column closer to my heart. The nose comes up and we're airborne into the morning mist. A morning flight is so different from other flights. The air is dense and moist, so the air breathing Lycoming engine sucks it in like a kid quenching his thirst. There is so much power from the engine because the fuel-air mixture is thick. The dense outside air hold the wings more securely while the propeller bites into it like a knife into a wedding cake. There is hardly any wind in these early hours. The aircraft climbs straight and true, the propeller tips sending a deep throated roar to all the people still sleeping on the ground.

Soon we arrive at the base of the thin cloud layer and penetrate it rinsing the wings in the milky stuff. Then we punch out of it into the clear air above. 

We're now above that blanket of snowy white cloud stretching below us like a mat of cotton wool. The sun sends a shimmer across the mat and as I look towards its rays I hear in my head Grieg's "Morning Mood". It is so surreal, I wonder if those fighter pilots out on their dawn patrols get that same feeling each time.