Isn’t it exciting to hear there may be earth-like planets, namely those that orbit suns similar to our own, perhaps even in abundance ‘out there’ in the universe?! Yes, but let’s take a step back and analyze ‘why’ its exciting for a moment.
Could it be that our human emotions are based on hope? What I mean is this; based on human history, (I refer to written history and not speculative pre-history), there have been many technological accomplishments, however, sociologically not so much, or to put it simply, human relations have, for the most part, been an abysmal failure.
Arguably, history has recorded that modern man is pretty much a failure in human relations. For instance when has there ever been an extended period in at least 2000 years that hasn’t included wars, genocides, oppression, atrocities, ad infinitum!
In my humble opinion failures throughout history have engendered a present day ‘faint hope’ that somewhere, somehow, mankind will find relief, or to put it another way, ‘salvation’, from his earthly experience. (I would also submit this is the very basis of the ‘theory’ of evolution.) In other words an attempt to absolve humanity from our blood stained past, and even more so, its present!
Its no secret that the dramatic increase in world population has brought about the prospect of mass-extinction, despite enormous potential for increase… why? In a nutshell; the answer is clearly human mismanagement, be it environmentally, politically, or economically!
But I digress; returning to the aforementioned planetary discoveries; what is it that really excites us about them? Isn’t it all about finding relief from our human failures? The vain hope that if there is life on other planets it may somehow point the way to discover or make human life somehow successful, an existence that has eluded us on earth?
For example, remember the classic Sci-Fi movie “The Day The Earth Stood Still”? An alien galactic envoy arrives to warn that robots were authorized to arbitrarily enforce galactic peace. They were said to be programmed to obliterate any planet who threatened a galactic peace protocol by the misuse of atomic power! (A very human approach no doubt!)
In conclusion, I submit that mankind as a whole is missing the ‘woods for the trees’. What I mean by that is the greatest human to ever live provided us with the way out of our failed human condition, the way to achieve what many are now seeking in the stars.
He told us what to seek, how and where to find it, and the result would be nothing less than everlasting life on a paradise earth! Therefore shouldn’t that be our primary focus? Because whether we seek it or not, earth is scheduled for exactly that ideal future by its eternal Creator! Indeed, have faith: it really will happen, with, or without, our personal benefit, and right here on planet earth!
Stories on the news often stimulate memories, particularly for seniors. Tonight there was a mention of the ‘False Creek’ waterway between West end Vancouver and West side Vancouver. By water it’s about 1.2 kilometers according to A.I.
My friend and I were regular Crystal Pool* swimmers in the 1950’s, not more than 13 years old at the time. After swimming in the Crystal Pool we were still filled with youthful vigor.
For no particular reason one of us, probably me, got the so-called ‘bright idea’ to boldly swim across to Kitsilano Beach (i.e. related Vanier park). It was barely in sight after sunset, directly across from the old Crystal Pool, an area known as Sunset Beach.
Since we had donned our street clothes after our swim at the pool, we had to determine how to do this challenging feat. Again we had a bright idea, namely, we would undress (possibly with swim suits on) and place our clothes on some scavenged beach wood in order to keep it dry as we pushed it ahead of us right across the harbor! Of course it also served as extra buoyancy as we hung onto it.
Indeed we did exactly that, keeping our clothes above water as we swam. I have no idea how clean the water was in those days, all I know is it was quite cool compared to the Crystal pool salt water, but not really cold either as this was in summer. Currents, and/or tides, didn’t cause us any problems, perhaps just out of good fortune. In fact as I recall we laughed about our bold endeavor as we kept in contact swimming across False Creek adjacent English Bay.
Now when we got across to a rocky beach area, it dawned on us it was going to be an unfamiliar and perhaps distant walk to the bus line needed to return to our homes in Southeast Vancouver!
Since we were flushed with success and feeling somewhat over-confident it seemed only natural we could just swim back to Sunset beach and that’s exactly what we did!
This episode in my young life has remained secret from that day to this as far as I can recall. And please note; I do not recommend it for youths, or anyone today, especially considering the great possibility of a far more polluted False Creek today than in the ’50’s and ’60’s, though I have no specific information.
I left rather late in one afternoon and flew directly from Victoria airport over Georgia Straight and coastal mountains to the 108 airstrip. It was (is?) an excellent paved strip capable of handling larger airplanes as intended. However as the sun set I was amazed at the total absence of anyone in the vicinity, including a nearby store and golf course!? In fact even while I spent the night under the stars in a sleeping bag right on the golf course, yet I never saw a single person! To this day that is puzzling.
It was intended only as a quick educational trip to 108 ranch resort 300 miles from Vancouver B.C. Block Bros. Realty a well known Vancouver real estate firm beginning in 1960’s Vancouver, had sponsored, and financed this recreation retreat. In spite of considerable investment and promotion it never succeeded as hoped for several reasons. For more information on this project go here: http://108 Ranch Resort by Block Bros. Realty
Despite the reasons for its eventual failure, including driving distance from Vancouver, Henry Block * had developed notable features, 18-hole PGA golf course, clubhouse, swimming pool, restaurant and lounge, and a 20-room lodge, which were completed by 1972, to encourage investors.
I was very intrigued by it as a youthful Realtor in Vancouver. So sometime after acquiring my pilot’s license, and airplane, I decided to take a quick trip from my Victoria base to take a look at it.
In any case the next day, perhaps because of some disappointment at the 108, I decided to fly South before returning home. As I did I noticed a small airstrip next to Green Lake and decided to land and have a look. It was a very dry dusty landing, but just across the road there was a ‘dude ranch’* where a family from the lower mainland was vacationing that welcomed me! Somewhat overwhelmed by their hospitality, I ended up joining an evening around open camp fire, but not before a trail ride that was an experience of a lifetime in the afternoon! See this great video on the Flying U Ranch!: * * * Flying U dude ranch
With very limited ‘horse sense’, I was invited to join the family galloping (and I do mean full speed) through a forested area you could hardly call a trail! I hung on for dear life as small trees and bush brushed my legs and threatened to rip me off my steed, it really was the experience of a lifetime!
Afterward we drank some beers around a large and hospitable camp fire under a starry night. I could not believe how fortunate I was, and only wish I had my own family with me there. Once again I slept in my sleeping bag out in the open under an awesome Caribou sky as can only be fully seen far away from city lights.
The next morning I took off early in a huge cloud of fine dust from the short dirt airstrip, and after doing a low pass or two over the ranch, headed South to Vernon. At an airstrip shop there I found partners who had sold me a Mooney airplane previously. As fellow pilots, typically, they gave me the keys to a vehicle in order to briefly spend a few sunny moments on a lakeside beach! However, it was past time to head home and I did so that afternoon.
Only less than a two day experience, but as memorable as ever can be for me!
Tonight there was CBC news about the ‘demise’ of bowling alleys.
As a young teen I worked as a ‘pin setter’ in a Vancouver East side Kingsway Bowling Alley on weekends. It was possible to earn a fair wage, for a teen, if you were called upon. You had to patiently wait in a lounge area until business dictated the need, I think that’s where I began smoking cigarettes unfortunately. Of course this was in the 50’s, well before automated setting machines came into use.
Eventually, with experience, I was able to quickly reset ‘two’ lanes of 10 pins at once, competing with other pin-setters when there was intense bowling team competitions, no easy feat, I had just enough hand-span to pickup four pins per time! Of course 5 pins were much easier. It was actually quite dangerous sitting feet up between two lanes of flying pins which sometimes struck you. But the rewards seemed to make it worth the risk.
One night a couple of late gambling bowlers just wouldn’t quit, the only ones bowling. I was their pinsetter and exhausted. My older brother Jim came by since it was getting late. When he saw my situation he demanded an end, but Wally the manager, wouldn’t interrupt paying customers. Anyway I survived. Overall the pin-setting experience was, perhaps, a worthwhile youth learning lesson of some kind. Maybe my grandchildren can learn from that experience.?
As said in my intro page; I will try to be honest about revealing my experiences both good and bad. So here is a shameful one.
Around 9 years old I admitted a few local kids into my secret summer place; namely the attic of our family garage. I had constructed a wall ladder to gain access to an ‘inviting’ trap door I’d spotted. Of course it was a very dirty, dusty space, but definitely my secret place when dad took his dodge to work.
Determining we needed to celebrate but having no money to do so, I shamefully set out a plan to ‘steal’ a cake from a very small family store on Fraser Street a couple of blocks away that only sold bakery products, probably made in house.
Indeed there was splendid cake located on a table close to the door. So one or two of the ‘gang’ were instructed to distract the owner at the rear counter. It was a highly ‘successful’ operation, possibly because of our perceived innocence!
Back at the secret place we more or less gorged ourselves, hand to mouth, having no cutlery. Yes it was shameful, no doubt about it. And I did pay a price! While building a dam along side the road in front of our house, an extremely irate European immigrant single parent approached me with her daughter in hand, one of the ‘gang’ no less!
Her daughter had confessed her sin, and her mother, rightly, acted like I was the evil boy responsible for this stain. She had actually gone and compensated the store owner beforehand.
After her tongue lashing my conscience did kick in. So I knocked on her door and apologized Only reluctantly did she accept, ordering me to have no contact with her (cherished) daughter. It was a good lesson I’ve never forgotten.
When about 8 year old I discovered books in the school library. We weren’t allowed to take them out but I read them during library class or noon hours. I was fond of reading in general, but for some reason one particular book on magical tricks attracted me.
It wasn’t long before I decided to have a ‘magician’ show, even placing a sign on our front lawn for the time and perhaps the cost, being maybe 10 cents! I set up a table in my parents basement and prepared tricks for the time specified, however when the time arrived my nemesis neighboring ‘friend’ Donald was determined to disrupt the show – requiring a plea to my mother to evict him, which she did, kindly of course.
Attendees included a few local kids, in particular slightly older girl that had a crush on me. She feigned amazement at my ‘magical’ tricks, but was really the only one impressed! Soon afterwards I decided not to pursue a career as a magician 🙂
Clipping the edges of thick cloud over the mighty Columbia River gorge, I headed for a former USAF airstrip in Eastern Washington State near the Canadian border. Sadly it would be my last flight in Mooney N1060B.
The adventure began a few years earlier as I searched for a bargain-priced airplane, straining my eyes on those tiny Aviation Plane ads. With a little extra cash sale of a fixer-upper real estate project burning a hole in my pocket, I was hoping to pursue much loved flying hobby after several years of absence.
Eureka! There it was. A vintage Mooney, the very same wood-wing 20A model I had previously owned, and at a bargain price! Of course the reason was obvious; it ‘needed work’.
Far from discouraging me however, this was an added incentive! Having owned two previous early-model M20A’s, one with a wood wing and tail, and one with a converted metal wing and tail, this fixer-upper held no undue concerns for me.
Soon I was on an American Airlines DC-10 streaking for Louisville Kentucky and a date with a car dealer, owner of several airplanes.
Although he looked a little skeptical when he met me at the airport, possibly because I was younger that his own age of approximately 40. Still, he immediately loaned me one of his used car lot vehicles, saying he would need a day or two to get the plane ready for my intended cross-country return flight to California – only after verifying my bank draft check mind you.
The next day, after returning to the airport to recover my Canadian re-routed baggage, I tried in vain to be interested in touring the Louisville area. However my mind remained focused on the purpose at hand.
Joining up with the seller on the second day, we drove over the bridge to an airplane parts supply store in Indiana. Back at the local airport garage I watched and handed tools as he confidently rolled up his sleeves and proceeded to install new piston rings in the venerable 180 h.p. Lycoming I0-360 engine.
It was quite evident Mooney N1060B had not been flown for quite some time. “Don’t worry” the seller assured me, “I’ll test fly it before you take off for home.” Always the optimist, I was only slightly less sure of his mechanical abilities when he broke one of the new oil rings he was installing!
However, true to his word, the next day he took off and briefly circled the Louisville airport without incident. I was ready to go the next morning, but bad weather brought a solid layer of clouds and drizzling rain, preventing a normal VFR (visual flight rules) takeoff.
After waiting another full day, regularly checking aviation weather reports by telephone, I felt I could not be away from wife and children any longer – never a safe reason for making a go or no-go flight decision.
Taxiing out to the runway for the obligatory runup, I proceeded to read back an IFR (Instrument Flight Rules) clearance dictated by the control tower before rolling down the runway full throttle and lifting off. In a flash I pulled the familiar Johnson bar landing gear handle retracting the landing gear, and proceeded to punch through the persistent overcast cloud.
Soon I was ‘on top’ above the clouds in glorious sunshine! A fresh boost of pilot confidence bolstered my spirits. (While not recommended, in the USA it is legal for VFR pilots like me to fly above the cloud deck in US airspace.)
Now at 8,000 feet, visibility was CAVU (ceiling and visibility unlimited). I was ecstatically heading South in my ‘new’ 1950’s vintage airplane.
Before leaving home I had carefully plotted and mapped a return course, leaving a copy with my wife. Now I was en route to my first refueling stop at Little Rock Arkansas, about 500 miles South of Louisville. Running at a modest cruise rpm, I diligently checked my compass heading, radio aids, oil pressure, exhaust gas temperature, and fuel consumption, moment by moment. Happily the engine sounded good and appeared stable, so I truly exulted in the always gratification of human flight!
Unreservedly I sang out loudly, praising God for my good fortune and blessings. There is definitely something about flying, especially solo flying, that heightens your spiritual awareness. It’s clearly a ‘nearer to God’ experience.
The solid blanket of cloud below gradually broke open as I headed South by SW. By the time I reached Little Rock, visibility allowed for a normal VFR landing and I didn’t waste any time getting airborne again after refueling. After take-off I reported a good-sized funnel cloud in the area, what we pilots call a ‘pirep’ (pilot report).
My next refueling stop was Abilene Texas. By that time I was tired, but decided to continue on and make the most of good flying conditions. Finally, just after sunset, I landed at Deming, New Mexico, a non-control tower airport. The local service provider immediately handed me the keys to his pickup truck so I could travel the short distance into town and find a restaurant. That trusted pilot fraternity exists everywhere you fly, and it’s truly heart warming.
Returning later I slept under a wing on the ground in my sleeping bag, it was a warm summer night. Gazing up at the star-filled sky, with great humility, I was truly grateful to God that things had gone so well.
The next morning I took off with three full fuel tanks and an overly optimistic plan to make it to the Los Angeles basin in one hop, not a good decision as it turned out! In spite of scrupulously leaning the fuel mixture and running at an economical cruise speed of about 135 mph, by the time I reached California fuel was running very low. To make matters worse, horizontal visibility was reduced to perhaps a mile or less in smog. Descending to less than 1500 feet I strained to locate an airport, any airport!
After long minutes, with fuel critically low, my heart rate was beginning to rival engine rpm. It was definitely time to swallow pride and call for help. The L.A. traffic controller responded swiftly and efficiently, ordering me to go to the emergency frequency of 121.5.
Once in contact there he ordered me to “turn right for radar identification”, i.e. to get a sharper radar reflection and direct me to the nearest safe landing site. But the problem was that at my low altitude it was difficult for them to target me. While they were attempting to do so, mercifully, the Palm Springs airport suddenly came into view nearby!
The controller immediately cleared me with the tower for a straight in landing approach. With a huge sigh of relief I landed and taxied directly to fuel pumps, it was like an oasis in a hot dessert. My good fortune and gratitude re-doubled when refueling added up to the maximum fuel capacity of the Mooney!
After a much needed bathroom break, and a required phone call to L.A. traffic control to explain my reason for declaring an emergency, namely; ‘smog reduced visibility’, I continued on with a short hop over to Oxnard airport. It was my plan to obtain a full examination of my newly acquired gem, including air frame and engine, by a recommended shop there.
But now my solid string of good fortune was interrupted! As I landed at Oxnard airport the Mooney brakes were virtually non-existent. They had been unneeded for prior landings, but now I was directed by the control tower to turn off the runway to a taxiway. Since I couldn’t slow down enough to do so, I made a hasty decision to turn off the main runway on the grass in between taxiways, attempting to climb back onto the main taxiway which was somewhat elevated. Since the Mooney only has an 8.5″ prop clearance from tip to ground, it struck the raised asphalt taxiway!
The damage resulting in a slightly twisted prop tip. However after receiving some remedial straightening by the local shop, I was once again able to depart without incident. Finally returning to my temporary home base near Sacramento California with a friend flying escort in his Cessna 172.
Advising the Louisville Seller that I had reached home safely was a satisfying end to this highly memorable flight. It was truly a ‘flight to remember’ for me.
But now, many months later, it was time to return my beloved Mooney back to the USA after being frustrated by Canadian Transport regulations, ah but that’s another story.
Today’s weather report for Denver triggered memory of an unforgettable experience year’s ago traveling to Oklahoma City from BC.
As I reached the mile-high city of Denver a major snowstorm engulfed my old Mazda sedan. Doggedly I kept trucking on until past Denver elevated in the mountains. Huge snowflakes were falling so fast I could barely see as far as my headlights were showing.
For awhile I managed to follow a few other cars, but the road was soon completely invisible. All we could do is hope the lead car we were following was still on the road, although the speed of the group was erratic to say the least.
As we came over a sudden hill I was rapidly over-taking the car in front of me and had to ease off so quickly the heavy old Mazda began a long heart stopping uncontrolled slide right off the road! Miraculously hitting what appeared to be a short guard rail, (who knows what was beyond that barrier). The car literally bounced and slid back to what hopefully was the center of the road!
There was no way to determine if I was even on the road now. All sense of position was gone, but at least there was absolutely no traffic in the opposite direction. In fact soon there was no traffic visible of any kind, not even cars to follow. I have no idea where others had gone. But now I was completely alone in a snowstorm of the century. I believed I had to keep going or they likely wouldn’t have found my frozen body until spring!
The snow was several feet deep after only a few hours from beginning to fall. I drove on all night at about 30 mph with my eyes as big as saucers in a purely brainless survival mode. Finally. the highway began a long gradual decline down from the mountains. ]
After hours of blind travel I found myself in bright morning sunshine with no snow in sight and soon caught up to miles of bumper to bumper two lane highway traffic. Where they had all come from I could not even guess.
Perhaps because I was in a near catatonic state of mind after my night-long white-out travel, and because all that traffic was barely moving, I decided to travel down the opposite lane! I began flying past miles of barely moving bumper to bumper jammed traffic in the wrong lane, thankfully there was no oncoming traffic at all. Probably no one was heading up the road to snow-bound Denver.
Exhaust from my oil-burning high mileage Mazda was leaving a well marked trail, like an old steam locomotive. I could not fully understanding why no one else was doing the same thing, in that empty opposite lane!?
After passing several miles of crawling cars I realized I was sticking out like a sore thumb traveling in the wrong lane! Sure enough a highway patrol sheriffs’ car was coming up fast behind me with multi lights flashing so I quickly inserted myself in the right lane, finding a small gap in front of an 18 wheeler.
Pulling over and stopping on the shoulder of the road, trying to hide, didn’t work. The State trooper had me cold. I can’t remember now if he gave me a ticket, or a warning, since technically all I did was legally pass everything on the road! However I do seem to remember a slight smirk on his face, apparently traveling down the wrong side of the highway passing everything on the road, for miles, leaving a telltale smoke trail isn’t exactly approved, even though I thankfully never encountered any conflicting traffic!
As I mercifully managed to continue on to OK city, I was totally exhausted and falling asleep at the wheel, no matter how hard I fought to stay awake. Entering city limits on a multi-lane freeway in the far right lane, with an 18 wheeler at my side. He must have noticed my somewhat erratic driving and realized I was falling asleep at the wheel. Thankfully his rapidly blasting loud horn just barely managed to help me keep my head up and avoid going under his wheels. The truth is the driver of that rig saved my life!
End of story.
