The next morning, I climbed into the plane, cranked her up and asked for taxi to the runway. As I climbed out heading northwest again, I had just one hop left. This route wasn’t exactly an easy ride since it was over the Southwestern desert, Rockies and Sierra. That’s a lot of desolation and mountains. Ray Fosset crashed over the mountains because of the downdrafts. About Ray, I have talked to some pilots and there is a feeling among experienced pilots that his 'crash' wasn't as much a crash as might be supposed. The conditions weren't that bad. That Ray took the opportunity to disappear as some things weren't going all that well in his life. There might be a reason no body was ever found. I can't testify either way but it makes you wonder.
You do have to be careful. I asked for clearance up to 10,000 to make sure I had enough room above the mountains. That put me on oxygen all the way. I checked the automated oxygen system and all the gauges looked good. The miles clicked off. This was a short hop, only 2 and a half hours. I started remembering the highlights and lowlights of the trip. Most especially, I remembered the girls. The American tourist, Laurie, in Acapulco. The girls of Campo Alegre, I’d have to go back and spend a week with a new girl every day. My Danish girls, Chipo in Africa. Caroline in the Seychelles, my little virgin in Thailand, the wild girls of Australia and New Zealand, the unexpected wine trip with _____, Tasha my little sweetie in Melbourne, Juanita the castaway. Finally I thought about Rosanna in Tampico. I could make that trip in one day. Should I?
I had been over this area before when I bought my first war bird. I had picked it up in Texas and flew it home. As I went over the badlands I remembered that first time I flew a plane and all of the hours I had put in them since. Around the world, now for a second time. I started remembering that first trip as well. I could even think of Iceland without getting morose. Maybe I was over Lilja. In the Mustang that would only be a four hour flight to Iceland, the land of blonde beauties. Maybe… My God but I had some adventures.
I was under flight following. As I neared Las Vegas, ATC kept me above ten thousand so I would be above the air space around McCarran. That was fine with me as I was going to have to climb to get over the Sierra anyway. In fact as I went over McCarran I asked to climb and was approved. Airports are interesting waypoints; one, they are easy to see and find. A pilot's eyes naturally find places to land in case the engine quits. As you fly, you are always looking for the next place to land in case of engine failure. But they also draw other planes like bees to honey and you can't trust those other folks to miss you. Nothing in the world is perfect.
I climbed up to 14,500 feet to get over the mountains. Twenty minutes later I was on the other side. I cancelled flight following and pulled off a little power and started a long slow decent into Sacramento. It felt good to recognize the landmarks. There was the little dirt strip the crop dusters used. I called the tower and I came around on a left pattern, turned base and saw runway 20 out before me. I was home, really truly home. I landed and ran out to my usual taxiway, the one most of the planes used because it was an easier taxi to the hanger. Ground gave me clearance to the hanger. I got there, turned off the engine for the last time on this trip. I took out my log and quickly added up the hours and miles. 96.4 hours and almost 34,000 miles. I had made it under the 100 hour mark. Just in time for the 100 hour maintenance. I climbed out of the plane and couldn’t find the hanger key. I swore and looked on the floor, head first and feet up in the air. It had fallen out and scooted under the seat. I opened the hanger and got the plane into the hanger. I looked at my baby for a while, and then thanked her, patting her on the bright yellow and red nose. She had done good. All those miles over oceans, over mountains and never gave me a problem. I closed the hanger and went out to find my car, the battery was dead. I won’t even tell you what I said.
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