Packed into Gaffney’s orange, two-seat airplane, we carried the bare essentials so we could stay under the maximum gross takeoff weight. We sacrificed extra clothes for computers and a new photojournalism tool: a digital camera that, itself, seemed to weighed nearly as much as the plane’s engine.
While Gaffney and I were relentlessly teased by colleagues about what they called a “junket” project , it turned out to be one of the most grueling, yet exhilarating, assignments on which we ever worked.
Some of the highlights include:
A personal tour of the Wright Brothers National Memorial by Ranger and Historian Darryl Collins who waited for us to land long after the park closed. Collins was a gracious host and even gave us a ride to a local hotel.
READ THE STORY: Historian follows Wrights' path
Collins speaks quietly in a soft North Carolina accent, but his pride in the Wrights is obvious.
Weather – good, bad and ugly. Our hopes of reaching a pre-approved landing at Edwards Air Force Base in California were dashed early in the trip when the remnants of hurricane Danny blew through the eastern half of the country and grounded us for three days. Edwards AFB is the modern equivalent of Kill Devil Hills, Huffman Prairie and Wright Field's contributions to flight testing. We did manage to fly past the giant desert base later in the week.
READ THE STORY: Storms make airport look beautiful
We had run out of clean clothes days ago. We were groggy from hours in 90-degree heat, parched from sitting in a blast of dry wind blowing through our partially opened canopy, and we smelled from days of sweat. But they didn't flinch.
The kindness of strangers (fellow aviators, airport managers, mechanics). In more places than I can recall, we encountered airport folks who went out of their way to help us by offering great stories, the airport car, a ride, checks for carburetor ice, food, tiedown for the airplane, beer and advice.
READ THE STORY: An airport that feels like a country store
Four men sat on a porch in front of the Habersham County Airport office, feeding a black dog. The dog had wandered in from somewhere, homeless and shy. It had hung around, keeping its distance, and people had started leaving food for it. Now it seemed to be the official airport dog.
Credit: Ty Greenleees
Credit: Ty Greenleees
A Texas-sized steak dinner at 12:30 a.m. Fellow aviator and friend Katie Braun and her boyfriend Dale McCombs picked us up at the Grand Prairie Airport south of Dallas when we arrived past 9 p.m. after about eight hours of flying from Georgia. Katie and Dale insisted that we eat and proceeded to grill steaks and bake potatoes.
READ THE STORY: Tractors of the sky keep the crops growing
Simply put, a lot of the food we eat depends on cropdusters for seeding, fertilization and pest control. "People don't think much about where their food comes from," Porter said.
A welcoming voice. Our last official stop for The Spirit of Flight was the Experimental Aircraft Association's Airventure convention in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Thousands of aircraft and more than 100,000 people visit the airport throughout the week. Landing there can be challenging, and we were promised a special slot because of our project, but we got there a little late. Landings are stopped for the afternoon air show – just about the time we arrived. The tower operator was not going to let us land until airshow pilot Patty Wagstaff intervened with a plea to the tower that I was too scared to make. We had arrived at aviation's Mecca.
READ THE STORY: Quest for flight fueled by romance
And we steeped ourselves in the romance of it, which is something that defies quantification. We couldn't find a way to put a value on the sense of wonder that comes from watching the colors and patterns of land and sky change as we crossed from one side of America to another and back again.
READ THE STORY: Fighting fire with flight
It made a low pass over the fire, circled behind a hill, then came around again. It was scant feet over the hill when it let loose a long plume of red fire retardant that fell over the fire like a blanket.
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