Wanderlust, Part I

A few years ago, I was in dire need of an adventure which would take me away from pressing domestic cares. I had just struggled through a difficult divorce, quit my job, and hadn't decided which path to take from that point in my life. My old 1948 Aeronca Sedan airplane seemed to be calling me to come out and play.

The Sedan is a four-passenger single engine taildragger, made of steel tubing, fabric, aluminum, and a definitely feminine soul. I had been flying her for about eight years, and had learned most of her idiosyncracies. We got along fine with each other. She would be an ideal companion for the adventure I had in mind. With April just barely beginning to bud in Montana, I was ready to head south to find more promising signs of spring.

The first task was to make sure the Sedan was ready for a long trip. I serviced her engine with oil, washed her, fueled her, and removed the back seat so I could load her to the roofline with necessities. Next, I laid out the camping supplies I thought would allow me to travel independently. Vagabond air travellers can't always count on finding transportation from small country airports to the nearest motel, so I needed to pack my sleeping bag, water, food, campstove and utensils in addition to clothes, camera, emergency supplies, navigation charts, and my five-string banjo for evening entertainment. Since I was to be the only passenger, I didn't worry too much about exceeding weight limitations with my baggage load. I packed and re-packed several times, until I was satisfied with the weight distribution, then tied everything down securely in case I encountered turbulent air along the way.

The morning of my departure dawned chilly but clear. Much of my route to Susanville, California, where I stayed a few days with my older brother, was over desolate but beautiful wilderness terrain. The Sedan's engine growled along, never skipping a beat, so I could enjoy uninterrupted solitude and snap some photographs of mountains still meringued with snow. I spent a few days visiting with my brother and scratching his cat's furry belly, then headed for California's central valley and warmer sunshine.

By fortunate circumstance, I met up with my "Schwesterhertz," my American Field Service German exchange student sister-at-heart, in Yuba City, California. Just before I left Montana, she had called to tell me she would be bringing her German high school class there for a month's visit. I found a very small airstrip carved out of a field only 1/4 mile from the house where she would be staying. We had a wonderful reunion, and I took her for an aerial tour of Sutter's Butte in the Sedan. She reciprocated by inviting me along on her class tour of the same craggy landmark splashed with wildflowers. The tour was courtesy of the local Harley Davidson club, and we returned with laughter and windblown hair. She had brought her guitar with her from Germany, so we entertained our hosts with harmonies we had learned together in high school so many years before. So far, so good on my great adventure, and I hadn't even needed my sleeping bag yet!

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