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Short on Experience, Long on Adventure, Part IV

© Wendy Beye

We feasted on Omaha steaks for two days, then had to face the long journey home to Montana. The nice tailwind that pushed us east would now be a fierce headwind, still trying to push us east as we paddled westward. The Sedan was just as we had left it, securely tied down on the grass outside the living room window of the airport manager at North Omaha Airport. We pre-flighted, loaded our bags, and lifted off the little concrete runway. Omaha Air Traffic Control watched us on radar as we fought our way out of the busy airspace. Finally we signed off, and proceeded to Ainsworth, Nebraska.

The two little gray-haired grannies weren’t on duty at Ainsworth, so we missed another sandwich invitation. Our landing and take-off were much less exciting than the previous ones, with a little less wind on the ground (and more experience under our belts). We fueled and took off for our next stop, Rapid City, where we would again spend the night. So far, the trip was uneventful. We kept our fingers crossed.

The next morning, when we took off from Rapid City, we talked to a young man on the Ellsworth Air Force Base frequency. The military runway is only a few miles east of the civilian runway at Rapid City, so controllers handle both locations. We grinned when he kept referring to us as "Norelco 64H" instead of "Aeronca 64H." We could picture an electric razor flying through the airspace toward Mt. Rushmore.

Lunchtime brought Gillette, Wyoming into view, and with the fuel gauge bouncing down toward "Empty," we thought we’d better stop. A hot wind greeted us when we stepped out of the plane. We made the mistake of having the fuel tanks filled to the brim. (Maybe I should calculate the performance for take-off before we proceed. Hmmm…it might be a little dicey.) The altitude at Gillette is 4,200 feet above sea level, and with an air temperature of 82 degrees Fahrenheit, the Sedan would think it was flying at over 7,000 feet above sea level. (The hotter the temperature and the higher the altitude, the thinner the air and the poorer the performance of an airplane.)

Our take-off roll consumed nearly the entire length of the 7,500-foot runway, and a high ridge loomed in the windshield as soon as we lifted off. Yikes! We made a staggering turn to the left and flew just above the buildings of town, clawing for altitude. The ridge was creating a downdraft from the west wind blowing across it, the air swirling like water flowing over a rock in a stream. We had a more intimate close-up view of the red mud striated ridge than we cared to experience, but finally gained enough altitude to climb westward again. We were nearly to Sheridan, Wyoming, before we had a really comfortable view out of the windshield.