Santo Domingo November 2002
by Lou Drendel  

            The air show poster read; “LLEGARAN POR EL CIELO”, and it featured our most-produced photo, the downward shot over the Chicago lakefront in all its garish yellow and green glory. The advertisement was for the 2002 Show Aerea Del Caribe, at San Isidro Air Base in the Dominican Republic. 

            We had worked for Dave Schultz airshows in November of 2000, when we performed at the Keesler AFB open house. That was at the end of our second season of non-akro flying, and though the show seemed to go well, Dave did not book us the following year.  But this year Dave did ask us to quote the first Caribbean Air show to be held at San Isidro Air Base in the Dominican Republic. We were awarded the show early in the year, which gave us plenty of time to plan and prepare for what would be our first show requiring a long over water ferry.

The trip began in the pre-dawn hours of October 31. I joined on the left wing of Bill Cherwin, with John Rippinger on the right wing. Bill had son Tim in his pit, while Ripper had our narrator, Dave Bond in his back seat. I had neighbor Tom Priz along for the adventure. We were IFR to McMinnville, Tennessee for our fist leg. We climbed to 7,000 feet in the clear, but the ground soon disappeared beneath an undercast.

Our normal cruise formation is "standard formation" (within a mile of the leader and 100' of his altitude) this allows you to turn on your own autopilot and maintain your IFR situational awareness. In real IFR this goes away. When you get in the clouds you are forced to focus entirely on formation flying, and depending on the thickness of the clouds, you might be flying with overlap.

We got into the clouds before we got to the Ohio River. We weren't in the clouds long before ice began to build on the leading edges and the windscreen. The OAT was 25 so there was no hope that this would dissipate. Coincidentally with the ice buildup, my radios became weak and intermittent. Now it was critical that I hang with lead, since I had no outside communication. Bill requested lower and, at 5,000 feet, the ice stopped building, and eventually began to flake off the leading edges.

At 100 miles from McMinnville we broke into the clear on top of a solid undercast about 500 feet below us. Unfortunately, ATC had another airplane on approach to Smithville and could not clear us for the approach until they knew the preceding airplane was on the ground.

Our gear and flaps came down at 5,000 feet and a multi-thousand fpm descent at 100 knots kept us on the glideslope into KRNC. We broke out of the 800-foot ceiling on the glideslope of a runway, which was not wide enough for 3 airplanes.  I dropped out early to land on the numbers, while Bill and Rip landed farther down the runway.

            Once we climbed above the undercast, the second leg of the trip....to Lake City, Florida.....was uneventful. Skip Aldous lives at the Cannon Creek Airpark near Lake City, and we became a flight of four for the final leg of day one as we headed for an RON at Pompano Beach.

Jim Martin and Gary Donovan joined us at Pompano, making it a six ship.  A considerable proportion of day two was spent over water. This would be the serious part of the trip, where a forced landing would turn into a survival situation. I put on my survival vest, which I had packed with a Garmin Etrek GPS for instant position reporting, an ICOM handheld, signal mirror, first-aid kit, compass, knife, and candy bars. Bill had been told that the best shark repellant was a D-cell battery. When salt water hits one of these batteries, it conducts current between the poles, creating an energy field around the battery, which repels sharks. Add one D-cell to the leg pocket of my international orange flight suit (along with a bottle of water) and the gross weight went up as the comfort level came down. Most of us were outfitted in a similar manner. Skip, taking a more fatalistic (and comfort-oriented) view, wore t-shirt and shorts. 

Our routing took us Southeast out of Pompano, heading generally down the chain of the Bahamas. We planned to make much of the trip at 15,000 feet, which would assure us of being within gliding distance of some beach in the event of an engine failure......most of the time.

            Without a lot of help from the winds, we were forced to make two fuel stops enroute to San Isidro. We filed IFR for 6,000 feet to Nassau, but dissipating thunderstorms made it impossible to maintain that altitude. (We fly IFR formation in almost anything but cumulus clouds which are too thick and too bumpy.) We over flew Bimini at 3,000 feet, then contacted Nassau approach, which informed us that Nassau does not allow formation landings. We were forced to string it out, with a mile between airplanes. This was the first of many delays in Nassau. The customs folks were polite and efficient, (and thoroughly concerned with their paperwork). The fuelers were deliberate (read slow). The Tower Chief was in the VIP lounge and Bill briefed him on our formation procedures, trying to talk him into allowing formation takeoffs to speed departure. He said he “could work something out”.

We were also filed IFR to Providenciales in the Turks and Caicos Islands of the British West Indies. We climbed into the airplanes, started, and called for clearance. We were informed that there would be a delay. Five minutes later, we were still sweating and waiting for our clearance, and sweating and waiting. Bill finally got tired of waiting and informed the ground controller that we could go VFR. They cleared us to taxi to the active runway, where we got in line behind airplanes that had taxied by us 20 minutes earlier! It was great to get out of Nassau.....and we crossed that one off our list of future fuel stops. The tower chief’s idea of “working it out” was to allow takeoffs at 8 second intervals.

Provo, on the other hand, was great! They cleared us for the overhead approach and we gave them the six ship smoking pop-top arrival. The customs folks were friendly, the FBO even more so. (And the lady running the show said we were the cutest guys to show up that month.......but it was November 1, and she might have had a sugar hangover from Halloween.) She also steered us to a local Jamaican restaurant, somewhat appropriately named "The Hole In The Wall". On the way to Provo we had flown at 11,500', sucking on O2, and usually within sight of a beach if the need for and emergency landing arose.

Provo to Puerta Plata, on the North coast of Hispaniola, was different. There was nothing but blue below and blue above, punctuated by fleecy white clouds.  It could have been a (relatively) boring flight, but for the comic relief of an incident which generated a new call sign for our narrator. As most of you know, there is a tradition among military pilots of assigning call signs. These are almost always related to a (preferably) embarrassing incident in a pilot’s career. Pilots are not allowed to assign their own call signs. Lima Lima has followed that tradition. David Bond had joined the team last year as our Narrator.  Dave is a Private Pilot and works on the crew desk at UAL. He had been using the self-assigned call sign of “Bondo”. 

“Bondo” was busy shooting digital pix from the pit of #2 as we approached the DR. When he made a particularly abrupt move to catch one of us, his Sospenders suddenly inflated, rendering him almost immobile in the seat. We were impressed with the amount of inflated vinyl visible through the canopy and when Dave confessed, he made the comment that “he now knows how Dolly Parton feels”. Instant Call Sign! “Bondo” no more! “Dolly” is appended to #7!

Puerta Plata is one of the more popular resort areas of the Caribbean and looking down on it from 11,500 feet, it was easy to see why.....crystal clear blue water, with white sand beaches, new villas and hotels, golf courses, and rising in the distance, the Mountain Range.

From there to Santo Domingo on the South Coast was less than 100 miles. We arrived at San Isidro at about the same time as one of the late afternoon showers which were common during our visit. Clouds would build up over the hills to the Northeast, then deposit a daily dose of cooling rain for brief periods.

The Dominican Republic is comprised of the Eastern  two-thirds of the island of Hispaniola (Haiti is the other one-third.) Hispaniola is between Cuba and Puerto Rico, and San Isidro AB is on the fringe of the capitol city of Santo Domingo, on the Southern shore of the island.

Now, when I think of an "island", particularly in the Caribbean, I am thinking ten feet above sea level, with lots of palm trees and sand.  But geographically, Hispaniola is more like one of the Hawaiian Islands. The interior is mountainous (up to 10,000 feet) and lush. Santo Domingo is a large (population 5 million) and cosmopolitan city. (But don't mistake it for an American city when it comes to traffic. The welcoming committee was everything we could have hoped for. Friendly, efficient, and accommodating to a fault. The first friend I made was Juan Carlos Porcella, who informed me that many members of the local International Plastic Modelers Society (IPMS) were involved with the air show. All had been buying my books for many years, and were happy to meet me.      

San Isidro is the headquarters of the Fuerza Aerea Dominicana. The strength of the FAD has changed over the years, from a formidable force of over 50 P-51s to the 2002 version, which operates 2 A-37s, 2 Casa 212s, 8 T-35s, and a few helicopters. We were most interested in the T-35 Pilan, which replaced the T-34 in Dominican service. The T-35 is a tandem trainer with a very modern cockpit and a real advantage for the instructor, who sits a foot higher than the student in the front seat. FAD pilots who had flown both said that the T-34 was much better than the T-35, but when the Mentors wore out, they needed a comparable modern equivalent and could not afford turbine trainers. The T-35s filled the bill and the FAD pilot flying them did a great job of demonstrating their formation discipline in several fly-bys.

At most air shows, we are issued cars for getting around. At this show, we were issued drivers, and the trip from San Isidro to downtown Santo Domingo was a more than graphic demonstration of why we were driven instead of driving. It was a whirlwind of cars without lights, motorcycles with fearless (or death-wish-dedicated) riders, and no rules of the road other than driving on the right and liberal use of horns.  (On one of the trips from the air base to the hotel, the two way street we were traveling became one way by common (and unspoken) consent. There was just a lot of traffic heading in the direction we were traveling and the drivers observed the law of irresistible force!)

The Melia Santo Domingo Hotel is on the shoreline and is five-star Latin opulence at it's best, with comfortable rooms, cable TV with enough English language stations to give you news and weather, and friendly bartenders. (We never met any unfriendly natives.)

The show site was San Isidro Air Base, but on practice day (Saturday), we took our press and sponsor rides for a tour of the city, including the shoreline. Our official practice “warm-up” was held in front of millions of people along the Santo Domingo seafront. At the briefing, Dave Schultz had warned us; “Just because there is no FAA here, don’t think you can do something you wouldn’t do in the States”. We were on our best behavior during the show, replicating the flat show we have performed for the past 3 years. But on the waterfront, we frolicked! The formation broke up into a tail chase and we once again experienced the unbridled thrill of following smoke trails wherever they led! Bright sunshine made the broad blue expanse of the Caribbean sparkle, and the gaily-colored waterfront made a distinctive backdrop as we joined the “tumbled mirth”…..that phrase never more apropos.

The air show party on Saturday night was easily the best we have ever attended. It was held in the hotel ballroom, where the IPMS chapter had dozens of beautifully detailed airplane models on display. Those were not the only models on display! There was a pair of take-your-breath-away Latin beauties in suitable aeronautical attire guarding the door, passing out air show pins. The room was alive with conviviality that was continually stoked with Presidente beer and assorted spirits. (Presidente became the drink of choice. It is a souped-up, 8% version of the best of imported beers.) Beautiful women were everywhere. (There were probably an equal number of handsome men, who was looking?) The entertainment was a troupe of native dancers who warmed the crowd up for the belly dancers who were the hit of the night. No one wanted to leave this party early.

Air show Sunday was 90 degrees hot and humid, with brilliant sunshine and light winds. The performer lineup included Key West native Freddy Cabanas and his Pitts Special, the ultra light wing-walking act of Essel and Falkner, the All American Firebirds in their Extra 300s, the F-86 Sabre vs MIG-15 dogfight act of Jimmy Rossi and Tobe Gooden, Bob Murphy in his O-2 and Sean Carroll in a CJ-6. The FAD had examples of all of their aircraft on display and flew demos with the T-35 4 ship, Robinson R22s and a pair of C-212s. the French Air Force had flown in a C-160 Transall for static display and several civilian aircraft joined the static lineup. The show went off perfectly, as we flew one of our best performances of the season as the finale.

Bill, Rip, and Jim had decided to stay an extra day, so departure Monday included Gary Donovan leading, with Skip and I on the wing. We were wheels up from MDSI at 0835 local, with planned fuel stops at Providenciales and Georgetown. Gary has an extra 15 gallons of gas in his baggage compartment aux tank, so he intended to bypass Provo and go direct Exuma.

Winds are generally light and variable at that latitude, so we didn’t expect any help, and we didn’t get any. But we did get a lot of help on the fuel burn. We climbed to 14,500 feet and with a burn of less than 10 gallons per hour and 150 knots of ground speed, figured we could make Exuma with 10 gallons remaining. It was a long leg (474 NM, 3+ hours) and we were above all clouds as we watched The Turks and Caicos , Great and Little Inagua, Mayaguana, Acklins, Crooked, and Long Islands come and go far below. Meanwhile, behind us, a tragic event was unfolding at San Isidro.

The Avalon Airshow team of Rossi and Gooden were in the final stages of pre-flight as we taxied out for takeoff. They started their takeoff roll a few minutes after we climbed over the central highlands. At 2500’ and 250 knots, the engine of the Sabre suffered catastrophic failure. Jimmy made a turn for the airport, saw he couldn’t make it, and decided to belly in to a cane field. Unfortunately, he hit a hidden obstacle during his landing and was killed as the airplane disintegrated. It was terrible end for the distinguished career of a great guy.

The fuel stop at (the euphemistically-named) Exuma International Airport was quick and painless, and we were back in the air within an hour, headed to Fort Pierce for U.S. Customs immigration. We chose Exuma based on the advice of Fred Cabanas, who has spent a lifetime of flying the Caribbean. His verbatim advice: “Stay away from the big islands!” Exuma has a 7,000’ runway but no control tower. The customs and terminal were manned, but otherwise deserted. The restaurant/bar across the street looked nice, but had not started making lunch when we arrived at 1100 local. The Dominican Republic is on Atlantic Time (Zulu-4), while the Bahamas use Eastern Standard Time, so we “gained” an hour on this leg.  

Our route to Fort Pierce took us right over the top of Nassau, so we could listen to other pilots being abused by the tortuous Bahamian ATC. The closest land to our route from Nassau to Fort Pierce was Grand Bahama, which passed 20 miles off our starboard wing. An engine failure here would mean deciding between ditching and jumping. Even though the seas were relatively light, I had made up my mind that I would jump. I was wearing everything I would need to communicate with the rescuers, and I figured it was always better to hit the water at 10 knots rather than 65 knots. Though we had thought about it, and discussed it almost ad-nauseum, (Bill was determined to ride the airplane right down to the ditching.) all those great Continental engines hummed right along. I could not even report the traditional “auto-rough” that is supposed to occur over water. I will admit to doing a lot of day-dreaming about WWII single engine Navy fighters and bomber pilots who regularly made long over water flights with engines that were probably not nearly as reliable.

The customs stop at Fort Pierce was a non-event. The agents were more interested in the airplanes than in the contents or occupants. Tom and I were airborne again within the hour, heading for Venice…….my soon-to-be home, and that of the Godfather of the Lima Lima Team, Gene Martin. After a couple of idyllic days in Venice, I was headed for Lake City, Florida and the last show of the season. 

Lima Lima Life After 9-11
by Lou Drendel

 The arid white landscape rushed by a hundred feet under the nose as the pilot’s 
eyes strained to pick up signs of life on the desert floor. Except for an occasional weed,
struggling for survival in the alkaline ground, there was nothing and no one except his 
wingmen in their own solitary cockpits.  The Cobalt Blue skies were devoid of any clouds
and the oppressive heat of the midday sun blazed through the canopy as they raced 
towards an as yet indeterminate horizon.

The formation was in a valley with forbidding stark grey mountain ranges on either
side. The mountains looked like nothing more than piles of rocks. No trees grew on
their slopes as they rose five thousand feet from the desert floor. If anyone was
watching from their barren inclines, they weren’t visible from the airplanes. The pilot
worried about that momentarily, then dismissed it as something he could not control. 
If there was someone watching, he would find out about it soon enough. Better to
concentrate on holding altitude and just revel in the tremendous sensation of speed
over the totally desolate ground of (insert one) a.) Afghanistan b.) Death Valley c.)
Anywhere-you-can-legally-fly-at-one-hundred-feet-above-the-ground.

The answer is not a.), and though the airplanes are indeed military, they 
don’t carry the rudiments of terrorist hunting/killing that is happening over similar 
landscapes half a world away.

The flight described happened over a month after 9-11-01. There were times
immediately after that day of infamy when many of us thought we might be grounded 
for a much longer period of time. When we did get back in the air, it was under the
supposedly) hidebound restrictions of IFR-only. Our first flight involved a “go to 
breakfast 20 miles away” mission.

We are located within the 30 mile veil of “Enhanced Class B Airspace” 
surrounding O’Hare International Airport (ORD). Our first flight under the new rules
occurred on September 16. Bill Cherwin filed our flight of three to Morris Municipal 
airport, which is 20 miles away. As a route, he included an intersection which is close
to our normal practice area, 28 miles away and beyond Morris. The clearance was 
“Radar Vectors, maintain 3,000, expect 4,000 ten minutes after departure.” We were 
given a void time and told to have one member of the flight monitor 121.5.

It was a crystal clear morning, the kind of Sunday morning you would expect 
to see many GA aircraft flying, especially in the Chicago area. It was more than just a
 little creepy to see NO other GA traffic, and very few airliners as we climbed and 
headed Southwest. As we approached the intersection, Bill asked ATC if he could 
get a block altitude and loiter in the vicinity of the intersection. They obliged with 
“Block 4-5” and remain within 5 NM, EFC in 10 minutes. (It wasn’t like they had a lot 
of conflicting traffic!) We were able to do several formation lazy eights, followed by 
an in-trail series of attitude-enhancing maneuvers before joining up and heading for
breakfast. With Morris in sight, we were cleared for a visual approach and did our 
normal formation fan break arrival. Airborne cancellation was not allowed, so Bill 
had to call the FSS and cancel on the ground. He filed our return flight to LL-10 at 
the same time.

There were lots of airport bums standing around, but no other transients on 
the ramp as we trudged across the grass to the airport café. The popular fly-out
cafénormally has limited seating, especially on VFR days. On this day, the only 
customers were a few locals. It was another sobering reminder of what had come
 to pass.

Our return to LL-10 was done with a flourish which we hoped would raise the 
spirits of all who saw us. We were cleared for the VOR-36 approach. The wind was 
from the south, so instead of landing straight-in, we would be overflying the field and
landing on 18. We didn’t slow down as we descended to the FAP. We roared over the
field with smoke on. (this was prior to the Anthrax scare which has made everyone
absolutely paranoid about anything coming out of airplanes.) A quarter of a mile north
of the field, we did a “whifferdil buttonhook” turn to line up with 18 for a smoking 
fan break.

We did get some enthusiastic comments………from non-pilots. Several of them
said it made them realize that life would return to normal. Unfortunately, we also got 
some very negative feedback. Several of our neighbors, who are pilots, called the local
FSDO to complain that we were flying when they were grounded. We had taken the 
trouble to follow the letter of the law because it was worth it to us to indulge our passion 
for flying. Apparently, some of our less committed brethren resented our high profile
example.

Our last show of the year was the Las Vegas International Air Show, 20-21 
October. The show site was the Jean, Nevada Sport Aviation Center. Jean is 22 miles 
south of Vegas, on I-15, the main road which feeds Angelinos into (and spits them 
out of) the gaping maw of the Vegas money pit. Jean has two casinos, one on each 
side of the road. The Jean Sport Aviation Center is behind the Gold Strike. It features 
3500’ parallel runways, which we did not use. The ramp space is limited, and a lot of 
it was taken up by a carnival that the show promoters felt was a necessary adjunct 
to the air show.

We were based at the Henderson Executive Airport (HND…formerly L15), which 
is barely five miles south of McCarren International. Las Vegas Class B is one of the 
higher profile areas in the country, and after 9-11, we had serious doubts about the 
viability of an air show within it’s confines. (The outer limits of the enhanced veil just
touched Jean, but all civilian aircraft in the show would be operating from Henderson.)

Rudy Malnati, who also runs the Chicago Air & Water Show and the Gary Air 
Show is a master organizer and, as it turned out, a very effective lobbyist for the Las 
Vegas Air Show, which he started in 2000. Not only did Rudy get the NSC, FBI, and 
FAA to make provision for the air show, he was also able to assemble a very impressive
lineup of  military demonstrations, including F-18, F-15, and B-1s. He was also able to 
get the USAF Thunderbirds, who had cancelled their Pacific tour.

The highlight of the show for the Lima Lima team was the show opener each 
day. The show site is nestled in a valley between ridgelines that slope up to 7,000 
feet five miles to the west and 5,000 feet a mile east of the show line. The show opener
 was traditional…up to a point. The Liberty Parachute Team and the Elite Frogs 
Parachute Teams put out several jumpers, one of which carried a large American Flag. 
The National Anthem was sung by Wayne Newton. When the last jumper was within a
thousand feet of the ground, the Lima Lima Team, which had been “hiding” behind 
the 5,000 foot ridge, popped over the ridge and descended towards the crowd, then 
turned north as they overflew the crowd.
Following the Lima Lima“Over-the-ridge-in-your-face pass”, the B-1B bomber did a
sneak attack from the rear of the crowd at warp speed with all four blowers going, 
turning south as they crossed the show line. It was an impressive beginning!

The weather was great until it was time to go home. We left town after the show 
on Sunday,  heading east. We had hoped to overnight in Denver, but the clouds were 
low enough  to keep us from going VFR through Monarch Pass and cold enough to 
keep us from going IFR over the pass, so we headed for Farmington, NM for our 
overnight. This gave us a good view of the northern approaches to the Grand Canyon 
and the south end of Monument Valley, then Ship Rock as we approached Farmington.

The next day we were able to pick our way through the mountains south of Taos 
and with the benefit of some impressive tailwinds, made a 570 NM leg to Manhattan,
Kansas. On the descent into Manhattan from 13,000 feet, we saw 257 knots across 
|the ground! Those same tailwinds gave us a final non-stop leg to LL-10, and an 
instrument approach. We had made over 1,000 miles in less than 5.5 hours of flying. 
It was a fine end to one of the most memorable air show seasons the Lima Lima Team
has experienced in it’s 14 year history.

Aerial Acrobatics What Do Commerical Jumbo Jet Pilots Do on Weekends? Acrobatics By Bob Jamieson July 30 — Monday through Friday, commercial airline pilot Ed Hicks flies hundreds of passengers thousands of miles in a jumbo jet. But on the weekends, he puts aside the business of flying for the joys of aerial acrobatics. Hicks has been a Delta Airlines pilot for 32 years. He demonstrates the mature, steady presence everyone wants in the cockpit. But on the weekends, he becomes "Fast Eddie" Hicks, part of an  aerial acrobatic team flying 1950s military trainers in a way that gets your attention. "There's always a little voice inside you that wants to turn upside down and pull G's," says Hicks, referring to the exhilarating effect of gravity at high speeds. At times, he feels more than three times the force of gravity inside his small plane. "It's kind of life on the edge out here when you fly this close to five other airplanes," says United Airlines Captain Hank Krakowski. His nickname on the weekends is "The Edgeman." Krakowski and Hicks — who is just six months away from retirement — fly with LimaLima, the only six-aircraft civilian aerobatics team in the world. The team's name is based upon the Navy tradition of marking each aircraft with a letter — in this case double L's ("Lima" is "L" in the military's phonetic alphabet). Flying High Above the Job Over the past dozen years, the team has been seen by an estimated 100 million spectators at air shows from Florida to Alaska and everywhere in between. "Five years ago," says Krakowski. "if you told me I'd be doing this, I would have said you were crazy." It's a world away from crowded airports, delayed flights, labor troubles and angry passengers, something the pilots relish. "I get a reinvigoration of day-to-day life," says Hicks. "I mean, it's something to look forward to.… It keeps me young." Hicks and Krakowski's teammates include: Stan Robinson, a United 767 captain who has flown for 38 years, including time as an Army helicopter pilot in Vietnam; Gary Donovan, a Delta 737 captain; Bill Cherwin, a retired 747 captain who flew for 38 years at United; and the team's youngest member, Jim Martin, who soloed on his 16th birthday and now is a captain at United. But not all the team members — or the flying skills — come from commercial airlines. John Rippinger, for instance, is the head of a financial group that bears his name. He's flown for 35 years — not just airplanes but also balloons. Lou Drendel, whose nickname is "Cool," is an executive with a building materials supplier. His long flying career predates LimaLima. He's also an author of 60 books about aviation and a noted illustrator. Resurrecting Aircraft History The aircraft they fly is a version of the T-34 two-seat propeller-driven plane designed in the 1940s and built in the 1950s for the Navy and Air Force. It was used to train an entire generation of fighter pilots before it was finally retired in the 1970s. Many of LimaLima's aircraft were rescued from retirement and needed to be restored to flying order. Krakowski, for example, did his own restoration including the plane's mechanics and electrical components. The pilots, most of whom live in the Chicago area, generally own the planes in partnership with another flyer. Dangerous or a Choreographed Ballet? Flying with the team, it's hard not to appreciate the slim margin of error in the pilots' tightly choreographed air show. From the plane's back seat, a passenger gets the impression one could reach out and touch the wing tips of the planes flying on either side. And the plane in front seems only inches away (the actual distance, however, is measured in feet). In midair, the pilots make sharp dives and sudden turns preceded by barely a word or a swift hand signal from cockpit to cockpit. One minute a plane is heading straight for you; another plunges just off your wing tip. From the air, it all seems disconnected — and dangerous. Yet from the ground, it looks like an artistic ballet. From either perspective, you can only appreciate the skills required to pull off the 20-minute show. "When we are able to accomplish our full acrobatic show and do it right," said Drendel, "it's like, if you're a golfer, it's like shooting par." Or, a hole in one.

Commercial Pilots Cut Loose

Mountain Wave and Grand Vistas

 by Lou Drendel

 If you are a “flatlander” (middle-of-the-country-pilot) you may remember some reference to Mountain Wave from your Private Pilot test, but I’ll bet it was relegated to the brain cellar once you got that ticket. That is, unless you got the chance to experience it first-hand. We did, and it was a real attention-getter!

            Mountain Wave is an atmospheric phenomenon in which an obstruction (typically a mountain ridge) excites air currents into a standing wave pattern of up and down vertical flow. The vertical rates of flows in mountain waves have been reported at up to 8,000 FPM, with rates of several thousand FPM being common.

            In the Western United States wave is generally encountered in mountainous areas at altitudes above 7,000 feet. Typical T-34 climb performance in still air at these altitudes is in the range of 300 to 500 FPM. This is especially true if you are loaded for a long trip, and are thus incapable of climbing or even maintaining altitude while flying in a strong mountain wave downdraft.

            Wave effects can extend from the surface downwind of the obstruction to extremely high altitudes. Persons on the ground in wave areas have reported both hearing and feeling rotors associated with waves and have observed property damage from these winds. U2 pilots have reported detecting (and having operational difficulties from) wave at altitudes in excess of 60,000 feet! Mountain wave is cited by the NTSB as a cause or factor in several fatal and non-fatal accidents each year.

            There are four primary indicators of mountain wave. Waves typically begin to form when:

1.  winds across mountain peaks exceed 25 knots,
2.  the wind direction is within 30 degrees of perpendicular to the line of the
      mountain ridge,
3.  wind velocity increases uniformly with altitude, and
4.   wind direction is relatively constant with altitude.

 In the Western United States, a winds aloft forecast (FD) showing winds of greater than 30 knots at 9,000 feet, relatively constant direction through 38,000 feet, and winds at the 34,000 foot level in excess of 75 knots virtually guarantees that there will be wave somewhere.

The Lima Lima Flight Team performed in the first annual Las Vegas International Air Show, October 12-15. It was my first trip West where weather was a significant factor, and it was the first time I had ever encountered mountain wave. It was a memorable experience.

            After filling our new oxygen tanks at Lamar, Colorado, we checked the weather and filed IFR to Farmington, New Mexico. The minimum IFR altitude along that route was 14,000’, so we were happy to have oxygen. The weather at Lamar was clear and forever, but a low pressure center was dragging a cold front across the Continental Divide, so we knew we were going to encounter some weather. Strong headwinds were also reported, so we had a long IFR flight to look forward to.

Our flight of 3 was led by Ed Hicks, with John Rippinger on right wing, and me on the left. Both Ripper and I had spent considerable time on the wing in actual IFR this year, so we were not overly concerned about the possibility of having to spend a few minutes in the clag. Ignorance is bliss!

            As we climbed with the terrain, the clouds began to appear on the horizon. The first layers were under us, and we were missing a lot of great scenery as we leveled off at 14,000 feet. We heard a Lear check in at FL 230, complaining about mountain wave. It was precursor of what was to come. But, once again, ignorance is bliss!

            The clouds were now at our level, and we were forced to ask for some deviation to remain clear. (Always preferable to the white knuckles of maintaining position in clouds.) We were back on course, and clear of the clouds when we got our first taste of mountain wave. The airspeed dropped from 125 indicated to 95 while the autopilot in the lead airplane maintained our altitude. Within a few minutes we were out of this side of the wave and watching the airspeed build to 145 before dropping back to the 125 index.

            The next wave was much more radical. The airspeed began to decay…..110….100….90…..80…..70, and at the edge of a stall, we began descending. Ed called the controller and requested block altitude 13-14. The controller replied that the minimum IFR altitude in our area was 14, but that he could give us block 14-15. Ed said; “I can’t maintain 14! The controller said; “Well, do the best you can, and call me back when you’re level at 14.” The attitude of the airplanes was now decidedly nose-up, as we fought to keep from losing altitude. Now down to 13,700, and on the verge of turning around, and wondering how we were going to do that without losing a lot more altitude, the airspeed began to come back, and we slowly climbed back to 14,000.

            The clouds in front of us began to build, and the air got a lot rougher. It was time to take the controller up on his block 14-15 airspace offer, and were level at 15,000 20 minutes later. We deviated as much as possible, but we still had to spend some time in clouds, collecting ice, and concentrating hard enough to make our eyes water. Formation at 15,000 feet demands the lightest touch you can apply. The throttle remains firewalled, and your only power adjustment is prop speed or mixture. Add some turbulence to the equation and I guarantee some degree of vertigo. (Why are we going around in circles?!!?)

            Fortunately, this episode only lasted 15 minutes, and we were once again on top. The few mountains we could see through the broken undercast were now snow-covered. The rest of this leg was relatively routine…..rainshowers and rough air. Lunch in the Mexican Restaurant in the Farmington Terminal tasted great, but we could have used a beer with it!

            An hour later we launched, sans suds, for Las Vegas, skirting the Grand Canyon inbound to Henderson. This leg fulfilled all the promise of flying in the West. One grand vista after another. Whether it is weather or scenery, there is no boring flying in the West ! 

Great Products for T-34 Pilots

 By Lou Drendel

         We have added several new product suppliers since my last review of the sponsors of the Lima Lima Flight Team. These run the gamut of greatly
appreciated, to absolutely “can’t live without now that I have tried it”. 

            Oregon Aero www.oregonaero.com  makes and sells a variety of wonderful products. Last summer I was having major problems with the fit of my very expensive custom-fitted Flight Suits, Inc helmet. Not only was I suffering the effects of “hot spots”, but the seal was not sufficient the let my noise-canceling  electronics do their thing. Gary Donovan literally dragged me to the Oregon Aero booth at Oshkosh, and introduced me to Mike Dennis, owner of Oregon Aero. (And inventor of much of their stuff.) Mike is a guy who loves what he does, and he does it very well. I bought a set of his ear seals and like magic, my helmet problems went away. No more hot spots. No more erratic noise canceling. The Oregon Aero helmet refurbishment includes their new liner which, though not molded to your head, is soft as velvet and more comfortable than anything you have ever worn on your head.

I was so lavish in my praise to my team, that our sponsorship expert went right after Oregon Aero, which also makes seat cushions. We got their portable seat cushions just in time for the longest trip of the year, a 5 day excursion to Las Vegas which included 25 hours in the cockpit. We threw the cushions in literally as we were leaving Naper Aero……and never thought about them again.

            We have tried a lot of different things to ease the pain in the butt that is T-34 flying over long distances, including pillows, gel cushions, and medical cushions. Nothing has ever come close to performing like the Oregon Aero Cushions! They are lightweight, portable (just in case you have more than one cockpit.), and affordable.

            Oregon Aero makes a lot of other great products, so you owe it to yourself to send for their catalog.

                        Precise Flight, Inc. www.preciseflight.com  is our newest sponsor. They make a wide variety of general aviation products, all of which we look forward to using. We were most concerned about being equipped with oxygen for our trek to Las Vegas. One of the Precise Flight products which immediately interested us was the Nelson Oxygen Equipment. www.nelsonoxygen.com Our equipment arrived in time for the trip. Those of you who regularly fly in the West probably take for granted the necessity for on-board oxygen. What the rest of you may not realize is that the T-34 is quite capable of operating at altitudes into the mid-teens, and that going up there enables you to extend your range appreciably.

            Our Nelson oxygen kits fitted comfortably next to the seats. (Upright, on the left side of the B model seat, right side of the A model seat.) The regulator is easy to use and precise in it’s calibration. We used the provided cannulas, since they conserve oxygen and allow you to use your boom microphone. The cannulas are very comfortable. (You literally do not notice them, even after 3 hour legs.) Masks are also provided with the kit.

            One of our legs on this trip was at 15,000 feet, 3.5 hours, 534 Nautical Miles, and we put on 37 gallons of gas at the refueling stop. The cost of filling the oxygen tank (20 cubic feet) is $20, and that is about a weeks worth of flying for one person. It more than pays for itself in time and fuel savings.  

            FlyBy Nav www.skywritersoft.com These folks are not sponsors, but this Palm program is so utilitarian that it deserves mention. For those of you who have GPS, (and, who doesn't?) how would you like to have your GPS database in your Palm? FlyBy Nav puts all US and/or Canadian airports and cities in their program. Operation is as simple as tapping in the city name or identifier of your departure and destination airports. If you put in your airplane data (TAS, fuel burn in gallons per hour, and fuel cost per mile), plus the current winds aloft , you get distance, time en-route and total cost.  The same folks make FlyBy E-6B for your Palm, for those of you who want to noodle the numbers further. What, you don’t have a Palm? Come on, get out of the 20^th century! The Palm is one of the most revolutionary organizational tools ever invented. And, if you don’t believe me, take a look at 3Com stock! 

LIMA LIMA 2000

Bad News, Good News; The oppressive T-34 AD which prohibits aerobatics is still in effect as of January 12, 2000. That is the bad news. The good news is that Lima Lima is still in demand as an outstanding formation team. We did 95% of our 1999 show season in the flat mode, and we were frankly surprised…. but very gratified….. by the overwhelmingly positive response to our performances.

While we are poised and anxious to comply with any test which is mandated as a part of this AD, we are also mindful of our commitments to air shows. If the test is published early in the year, we will hasten to have our airplanes tested and certified aerobatic. If the test is not published until mid-year, or in the middle of our season, and we have the option to delay testing, we will fulfill our air show schedule before undergoing the tests.

We are confident that the T-34 fleet will pass the test. (The first two airplanes tested while developing the service order passed.) The FAA now has the Raytheon-developed service order in hand, but we cannot guess when it will be published. In the meantime, we will "Keep ‘em flying!"

07-11-98

The Tootsie  Roll

In 1896, an Austrian immigrant Leo Hirshfield started producing his chocolatey, chewy candy in a small store in New York.



The candy is named after his five-year-old daughter, whose nickname was "Tootsie."



In those days, the candy was hand-rolled and delivered to customers via horse-drawn carriage.



World War II, it was part of the soldier's rations -- due
to its ability to withstand harsh weather conditions.

Tootsie Roll is more popular than ever, with 37 million produced every day or enough produced in a year to stretch to the moon and back.

        In May of 1998, Lou "Cool" Drendel preformed the first known "Tootsie Air Show Roll" at Andrews
Air Force Base in Maryland before a crowd of over 400,000 fans.

4-28-98:
LIMA LIMA's Big Week

Our final leg was IFR formation in the dark. We were able to take advantage of the Southerly winds and made it from central Kentucky to LL-10 in just over 1.5. There was one final challenge. Weather in the Chicago area was reported as 1,000 overcast, 5 miles in light rain. Those of you who know what that looks like in the dark can imagine how it feels to fly that approach after having flown an airshow and finished up the day with a 5 hour cross-country. Exhaustion doesn’t begin to describe how I felt when I closed those hangar doors after the finale of the Big Week!