Fourteen Years

The World Trade Center August 2000 (Source)

It was one of those magnificent New England days in late summer/early fall.

The sky was a breathtaking blue with numerous fluffy white clouds to provide contrast.

The temperature was mild, warm with just a hint of the Autumn to come.

It was a perfect day to be alive.

For a number of innocent people, it was their last day on Earth.

My religion teaches me to forgive.

Forgive I might, but forget?

Never.

And I doubt that I will ever, ever forgive the actions perpetrated upon us that day.

Many have forgotten.

And it is to weep.

It has been fourteen years, yet every year when I see this day in the calendar, the anger rises within me once more.

I will never forget that day.

Nor can I forgive.

Lord help me...

The Pentagon - Photo by TSgt Cedric H. Rudisill, USAF

Memorial at Arlington National Cemetery for victims of the September 11, 2001, terrorist attack on the Pentagon. American Airlines pilot Captain James C. Condes, shows his son Christopher, the inscribed pilot's name of Flight 77, CAPT Charles Burlingame, prior to a memorial service at Arlington National Cemetery for the 184 victims of the September 11th, 2001, terrorist attack on the Pentagon. Photo by MSgt Jim Varhegyi, USAF

Pennsylvania - United Airlines Flight 93 (Source)

Remember
(Source)

What A Difference A Day Makes!

Little Bit and her new little sister.
My oldest granddaughter and my youngest granddaughter.

The family medical emergency has been resolved.

Seems there were some complications with The WSO's delivery of our newest family member. The little one was never in danger, Mom had some issues which the medical staff dealt with and dealt with quite well I'm led to believe.

I won't belabor you with the messy details, suffice to say The WSO spent the night in the ICU at a different hospital than the young'un. She's all better now and can't wait to be transferred back to where she delivered. (It's all in the same town for those who want to know. No, I ain't gonna tell you which town.)

Things are all better now. But just in case, The Nuke is on her way to California even as we speak. It's a sister thing. I understand. I'd be there myself if it wasn't for this torn up belly I'm sporting.

Big Time is at sea, Red Cross was notified, it's unsure if he will be able to get home for even a day or so. We shall see.

The word on Big Time's boat overnight was "Why is the CNO-select calling Big Time?"

Seems The Nuke knows people. She gets things done.

I can neither confirm nor deny those rumors.

Let's just say that when The Nuke speaks, people listen.

The WSO is well and wishes to convey her thanks for all the good thoughts and prayers offered on her behalf.

I second that.

No Post This Morning

Nothing to offer this morning, had a family medical emergency yesterday. Too rattled to think straight.

If you're the praying type, prayers would be appreciated for The WSO and my new granddaughter.

If you're not, positive thoughts would be appreciated as well.

Thanks.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Speaking of Airports

Now that title was supposed to follow Juvat's Monday post "Airport Festivities" which would have worked out quite well as far as titles go, but Sarge had other plans.  He's the boss, so I humbly gave up my semi-regular Tuesday slot for his post-Labor Day post.

Nevertheless, this is a mostly aviation-centric blog, with the writing staff here at The Chant having been involved in flying during our military careers.  Now?  Not so much, unless you count the desk I fly for the Navy these days.  Sure, we still fly, but instead of being paid to do it, we pay some corporation to let us fly the friendly skies.  And boy do we pay them!  I looked into flights to Hawaii for a family trip next June after the teenangster graduates high school, and I'll be taking out a second mortgage if we qualify.

I'm still very much interesting in aviation, reading blogs like AskSkipper, Fightersweep, and this one of course.  And I watch (or watched) shows such as Dangerous Flights, Wings on the Discovery Channel, Dogfights, and even Air Disasters.  I'll even admit to watching airplane drivel such as Airplane Repo, which has to be the biggest phony of all "reality" TV shows since the invention of reality TV, but it's something to play in the background as I read the blogs or research content for this one.  As a side note, that show was narrated by Mike Rowe, but no longer.  I hope he quit because the show was so cheesy and that he has too much respect for himself.

Because of that interest, and most of my friends and relatives knowing that I once flew for a living, I'm either emailed material, or I'm always on the hunt for interesting airplane stories, jokes, and photos.  One of the recent ones had to do with crazy and/or dangerous approaches and runways.  I though it would make a good blog post for one of my Tuesdays Wednesdays.  So, with no interest in being all snarky and political today, and a lack of a decent trivia post in the recesses of my noggin, I bring you a bunch of airplane-ish pictures- some from an email you might have also received, but with a few others I've heard about over the years.  I hope you're happy.  It takes a lot of work to copy stuff from email into a post.  That's right, I said I wouldn't be snarky.  So fasten your seat belts low and tight across your lap and put your tray tables up...

This 4000 foot runway is somewhere in India.  Probably a beautiful approach, but an awfully short strip.  If the plane overruns the runway, you'll have a short swim to the next island though.

This is Courcheval Altiporte in the French Alps.  I've used it before, as it was the airport depicted in the James Bond film "Goldeneye."  It's at nearly 1800 feet with a sharp drop off- both in the middle of the runway, and at the end of course.  Before landing, I think pilots have to call the runway environment in sight, but what do you do if you don't have the take off environment in sight?

A Beech King Air on its after-landing run out.

                                                

Don Mueang Airport in Thailand.

"FORE!"

"What did you say?  I can't hear you with that airplane behind you."

This one is in Gibraltar, and while a runway extending into the sea isn't all that crazy, take a look at the lower right side of the picture.

Yep, that's a city street- Winston Churchill Avenue intersecting the runway.  Don't run any red lights!  Seems like an engineer that could develop a runway into the bay could figure out how to build an underpass for the cars.

Gisborne New Zealand has a different type of thoroughfare running across its runway.  Before takeoff, you have to check NOTAMs, the weather, and the local train schedule.

Old Kai Tak Airport approach in Hong Kong

Hong Kong has replaced this runway with one further out into the bay, but I remember seeing the big last minute turns as we ferried in from the carrier during port visits.

Speaking of runways in the bay, this one is near Osaka Japan.  When they miss the landing, the pilots are required to call out Bolter Bolter Bolter!

Madeira Airport in Portugal is built off the side of the land, improving on the original runway which was close to the mountainside.

Barra Airport Scotland

The seaside airport in Northern Scotland has a runway that is often covered by the ocean during high tide.  That's because there isn't really a runway, airplanes land on the beach.  Surf's Up!

St. Barts

This one has probably been seen before as the beach from which it was taken is very popular among tourists due to the proximity of the runway to the public beach.  St. Maarten is where the opening shot and this picture are from.

Pinterest

This one isn't so crazy, but I like it enough to use it here.  It's the approach to San Diego's Lindbergh Field, which takes passengers and crew over Interstate 5, and the five story Laurel Travel Center, which requires a relatively steep approach.  The proponents of a joint military-civilian airport at Miramar tried to claim that it made the approach too dangerous, but with zero accidents and hundreds of pilots saying it was safe, the argument failed, as did the effort to move the airport.

You don't have to be Sir Edmund Hillary to reach this airport, but it's quite elevated nevertheless.  Tenzing-Hillary Airport in Nepal has a 9300 foot drop at the end of its runway.

This is Juancho E. Yrausquin Airport on the Caribbean Island of Saba.  At 1300 feet, it has what is thought to be the shortest runway for a commercial airport anywhere in the world.

While many of these airports are only serviced by propeller aircraft, here's one of the scarier runways that US carriers fly jets into- Tegucigalpa, Honduras.

                                             

By the way, I'm sorry I can't seem to get these videos centered up.  I tried to crash Sarge's Blogging 101 class, but it was full.  So, about these airports- been to any of them?  Do you have any others that I might have missed?  What about scary landings?  Hmm, probably a post or two in there for Juvat!  Let me know in the comments. what you can shake loose from your cobwebs.

I'll leave you with the shortest runway I've ever seen, and had a few scary landings on it back in the day.

USS INDEPENDENCE (CV-62), although since it has Phantoms aboard, it's a bit before my time.

Yesterday Was What?

My Labor Day Celebration

So yesterday was Labor Day.

It's not a big holiday in my book, it's just a day off, a long weekend and sort of the last weekend of summer. (Technically not, Fall begins later, but more on that, you guessed it, later.)

My next door neighbor had his relatives over, they had a cookout, they played in the pool and generally reveled in each other's company. In a quiet and most civilized way.

From what I've observed in my 16 years dwelling in this locale, I have very good neighbors. They tend to be quiet and non-annoying. Something I treasure.

I presume that my neighbor will close his pool next weekend at the latest. While the weather is still glorious, it is trending towards a bit of a chill at night. Besides which that's what pool people (in this area of the world) do after Labor Day, close their pools. Probably better to do it while the weather is still good.

With The Missus Herself out California way, it's just me and the feline staff here at Chez Sarge. Well, the koi and the gold fish are there, but they're not very interactive. Oh, they'll surface when they see one of their humans bearing food. Normally though they just sort of swim around and do fishy things.

So, I announced to the cats that we would have a big Labor Day celebration today. They viewed my announcement with a certain lack of enthusiasm. Admittedly, I had no firm plans for the day except water the plants I have been directed to water, clean the litter box and attempt to cook pasta. Not all at the same time mind you.

Anyhoo, with the total absence of fervor on the part of my companion animals as regards the late celebration of labor, I decided to spend the day in quiet reflection.

Along with doing the aforementioned chores.

I did watch a couple of good movies via Netflix, I may discuss those at some future date. POCIR. Other than that it was a quiet day.

I am still recuperating and, of course, every time I think everything is hunky dory, I'll get some wee tinge of pain to remind me to settle down and obey the doctor's orders. Today was a bit more painful than usual. I blame the drive to the airport and back on Sunday morn. There and back again is 50 miles.

Seems my belly is not friends with Mr. Seatbelt right now. It's too tight and sits in a bad place. I reckon if I got into an accident Mr. Seatbelt would probably save my life and put me back in the hospital to repair my belly again. So there's that.

At any rate, after I had finished watering the plants I had been directed to water, I decided that, to honor the holiday, that I would have an Adult Beverage, shown in the opening photo. Hhmm, perhaps next time I will focus on the bottle and not the background. Just noticed that the bottle was a bit fuzzy. As was I, those Belgian brews are a bit strong and I am not used to strong drink at the moment.

Now that bit I mentioned in the second paragraph? Yes, it is now officially later, so let's discuss the seasons, rather, how I mark the seasons. Yes, while there is the official "well the sun is now directly overhead here, therefore...." Blah. Blah. Blah.

I mark the seasons thusly...

The Summer is June, July and August, for those months (in my youth) were always associated with summer vacation from school. Now as there are four seasons and twelve months, each season must necessarily consist of three months.

So Fall, again on the Sarge Calendar, consists of September, October and November. Sure, the beginning of September is rather summer-like in Little Rhody (most of the time) but in the more northerly clime of my youth, September was a chilly month. Not really summer. Though truth be told, I've seen temperatures in the 30s in August (at night) up north but that's an exception.

So Winter, drum roll please, begins for me in December. Christmas being a winter holiday, and my favorite holiday, I have often spent all of December celebrating Christmas. I know, I know, Home Depot, Walmart and other such retail outfits start putting out Christmas stuff before Halloween, but I don't run those. They have their schedule, I have mine.

So Winter equals December, January and February. I reckon one could make a pretty good argument for including March in that accounting but there are days in March when you begin to feel that Spring is coming. So March stays in Spring.

Yes, Spring, March, April and May. March is still kind of cold but winter loses its grip on fair Little Rhody round about then. Sure May is starting to see some summer-like days but still and all very spring-like.

So that's that.

As to Labor Day, I get the premise and once, long ago, I was actually in a labor union. It did protect me from bad management. Too bad they couldn't protect bad management from themselves. Stupid bastards, all the fine companies that employed folks in my hometown back in the day are all gone. Probably moved to effing China for all I know.

Sigh. Perhaps I should have had another beer.

Nah, don't want to mess up the recovery process.

Now excuse me, I need to go put away all my white outfits. (I hear that seersucker is also verboten after Labor Day. Leastwise that's the way high society rolls. So I'm told.)

Airport Festivities

The unnatural situation that has been existing in Central Texas (green grass) since May seems to be ending.  My field is slowly turning brown, and the county has declared a burn ban to be in effect.  No trash burning or open fires.  

I don't burn trash, so that's no problem, but the guests staying in the guest house do enjoy sitting around the fire pit and enjoying an Adult Beverage while toasting a marshmallow or two.  But a grassfire would be problematic, so we're in compliance.  

There doesn't appear to be a burn ban in effect in Mexico, since the only thing crossing the river faster than an illegal is the smoke and haze from the post harvest fires.  Seems after they harvest, they set fire to the fields to burn off what's left.  I guess it's faster than plowing.  

Another indicator that the burn ban is probably called for is the arrival of the modified crop dusters at the local airport.  I've been hearing them regularly as they depart from the airport and fly over the homestead on the way west.  Haven't heard of any significant fires out there, so maybe a single sortie is enough to extinguish the flames.

Since I drive by the airport daily on the way to work, I noticed them on the ground, so decided to stop by on Saturday and see what was what.  Interestingly, they are modified with a turboprop engine and a 5 bladed prop.  Even more interesting, the one on the extreme left (you can only see the wing) is a two seat version.  (yes, I took a picture of it specifically, no, it didn't turn out.)

I can see the advertisement now.  "For just $75, you can experience a fire up close and personal,  you'll fly an aircraft full of jet fuel, 10 feet off the ground through a raging fire! A once in a lifetime experience. Operators are standing by."

I've known a few cropduster pilots in my day.  All insane.  These guys are no exception.  Passing over my house, they might be 500'AGL, but probably not.  A guy could get a nosebleed that high, maybe hypoxia.

So, There I was...*

I'm pulling in to the airport, intending to talk to the crews and see if they've got anything that might be interesting for a post.  Yeah and I also intend to stop in the Diner and have lunch.  I've parked and am walking around the building because they've got some function going on as the flight line is roped off.  

But that's ok, as I wanted a picture of the static display C-47, now that the owner has finished repainting it in D-Day colors.  Himself.  By Hand.  He's my age.  Old.

As I'm taking the picture, I hear a rumble of engine noise in the distance and look around and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a B-17 airborne over the town.

I get that shot, and wander through the Hotel lobby to the FBO next door to find that not only is there a B-17 there, there was a B-25, a P-51, an L-17C Navion, and a SNJ (I would have said AT-6, but it was painted in Navy Livery, and some people get a little Tetchy 'round here when improper terminology is used.  You know who you are).

COOL!

Paid my $10 and walked out on the ramp.  About this time I hear the B-17 engines getting louder and look up.  There she is, directly overhead.  Had an eerie thought go through my head wondering how many folks had this as the final thing they saw.  Granted, she was maybe 3000' AGL, but you get the point.

I walk over to the B-25.  It's a beauty.  

We've even got Napoleon directing deployment of forces

This wasn't my first B-25.  When I was in College, I'd worked at an FBO and my boss had been part owner in a B-25. It wasn't hangared there, but it flew in occasionally, so I'd gotten to see it up close and personal.  Not airborne, mind you, but I had put gas in it, so that's almost as good.  (OK, maybe not.)

I do a walk around and get in line to climb in.  I remembered two things. One, I'd thought it was cramped when I climbed in it in College.  Two, I was skinny in College.  Logic dictated that the Confederate Commemorative Air Force would not look kindly on me getting stuck in their aircraft and therefore Prudence was adhered to.

You're looking at the business end of 7 x .50 cals

Walking around, chatting with ground crew and such, I hear the B-17 again.  Comes over the field 90 degrees to the runway. (Aaron, that's how you enter the pattern at an uncontrolled field, determine the active runway, clear for traffic and enter the pattern, But you knew that already.  So that was actually for Sarge.)  

It begins a right turn and drops it's gear.  I move out to the end of the wing of the B-25 and begin to take pictures.  

There's a little bit of a right cross, and the IP in my brain says "a little overshoot" in the final turn, but a little side slip and he's fine. 

About every second picture, there's a lady in the way.  I'd step over a bit to have a clear shot, take the snap, and then she'd move in to the shot.  Rinse Repeat, over and over.

Finally, I just point the camera at her and take the shot.  She asks me why I did that.  I responded, "Since you seem to be bound and determined to get into my pictures, I figured I'd just make it easy for you."  She responded "Oh".  No further problem.

But here I am, about to watch one of the 11 remaining Flying Fortresses land, and I have a camera ready!

 No bounce, which was nice as the sound of shutters clicking was almost as loud as the engines.  Rolls out and taxi's back.

Now the ground crews are herding people and yelling all round.  People are running out onto the taxiway to get their shot of the plane.  I'm standing under the wing of the B-25.  I figure, the ground crew isn't going to let the two airplanes come into contact, so I'm fine with where I am.  

The ground crew doesn't say anything to me, so I'm there when the 17 taxi's by.

When the Colling's foundation flew in a few months ago, they had all their passengers in the waist gun position, which would be cool, but not quite as cool as being in the Bombardier position.

Really thought long and hard about that one.  Man, those would be SOME pictures!  Well, turns out, regular seats are $475 and the Bombardier is $850. When I win the lottery.

That lottery win and Bombardier ride will be the precursor to this.  $3000 for a half hour ride.  Although, if you are a WWII veteran, he'll take you for free.  

 There are less expensive options. The SNJ will set you back $250 while the L-17 is "Only" $200.  

This looked like a pretty young kid, so I hope he enjoyed it.

All in all, it was a nice way to spend the day.  Hope your Labor Day is pleasant and relaxing.

Sunday

The hedge along the northern perimeter of Chez Sarge.

While I'm writing this on Saturday evening, you all will be reading this on Sunday, for that is when it will be published. If I make mistakes with my tenses, that will be my excuse. (Note that I didn't say "y'all" in that first sentence. As I'm not from the South I felt it would be pretentious of me to use "y'all." That's an observation, not a judgement. Uncle Sam's Aim High Society taught me to write like I speak. Well, how I'd speak if my Mother is listening, otherwise this here blog would no doubt score an "R" rating for adult language.)

Today is the day that The Missus Herself heads out West to California to await the birth of grandchild number four. We already know that the baby is a girl through the wonders of modern medicine.

So of course the Navy, in their infinite wisdom, made sure that Big Time would not be at home for the birth of his and The WSO's second child. Rush, rush, rush, it's off to Sandy Eggo you must go so that you may accompany your mighty flattop out to sea.

Except of course that the boat is broken and won't be going to sea just yet. Can Big Time head back to the ranch? Nope, it is forbidden, the furthest they can travel is 200 miles, one of those "just in case" we need you measures. As you may have already guessed, Chez Big Time et WSO lies much further off than 200 miles.

The WSO informed me that she was entertaining the idea of heading down to Point Mugu, where there is a naval installation, for to meet up with hubby, Point Mugu lies just at the outer range of travel from Sandy Eggo.

I asked her if she planned on keeping the CHP informed that they would need an obstetrician standing by for to deliver the newest addition to the tribe. She informed me that "it was just an idea Dad, don't panic." As the apple falls not far from the tree it was not so much panic I felt but a sinking feeling that it sounded like something I would have done in my youth. Therefore I had a feeling she might actually try that.

But no, in matters of common sense The WSO takes after her Mom. Thank the Lord!

So today (tomorrow from my perspective) I must arise at the butt crack of dawn and transport my better half to the local airport for a flight which will take a long time. The way I look at it is, of course, that I will need to take care of myself while she's away. Instructions have been left, food has been prepared and placed in cryostorage for later use and I am mentally prepared to have little human contact over the next week or so.

So if my blog posts next week seem to consist of hissing, meowing and purring, that's not me, it just means that I let the cats have at the computer. I'm sure Google Translate can handle the feline dialect.

Anya has registered her objections.

Then again, I think I can retain my English by watching Netflix and interacting with the folks at Dunkin' Donuts and the grocery store.

We shall see.