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Open cockpit delight Spy and Zhredder take flight in a 1927 TravelAir 2000 with the wind in our face just like the barnstormers of old June 13, 1998. Zhredder and I felt the wind today. For the first time in our lives, we experienced the sheer exhileration of flying with the wind in our faces, just like the barnstormers of old. We took a flight together in an open-cockpit 1927 TravelAir 2000 biplane over the skies of Seattle and the naval shipyards of Bremerton. It was unforgettable. We were still heady from our stick time in the huge B-17G "Nine-O-Nine" earlier in the day. During a previous visit with Zhredder in Seattle I had expressed an interest in going up in this historical double-winged beauty. He was as enthusiastic as I but the first time our schedules didn't work out. This time we had the chance, so we split the cost of a one-hour flight over to the naval shipyards where they carve up the old nuclear submarines under the terms of the SALT treaty. Bremerton usually has some aircraft carriers parked there as well, so we thought it would be fun to fly over the site. The TravelAir is owned by Galvin Flying Service at Boeing Field. We received an orientation by pilot Steve Nitchman, then walked out to the tarmac. Just a hundred feet away was the Nine-O-Nine, engines hot as another load of visitors would experience a ride in the venerable bomber. As we did our walkaround, the B-17 revved up the engines and taxied away. Steve showed us some of the features of this aircraft, and it was time to put on the skull caps. Now, I'll admit these caps, especially when combined with the gomer-goggles, look pretty funny. But later on when we were in the air I fully realized their value. With the wind literally trying to rip off your head in flight, wearing anything less would be insane. Only with the skull caps and goggles firmly in place do you stand a chance of returning with them still on your head. And I can't imagine trying to fly without the goggles. It would be near impossible with that kind of slipstream in your face.
This beautifully restored vintage aircraft is in gorgeous condition, but it was never originally meant for three people. The front seat was altered so that two could be seated side-by-side, but even though we're both pretty slim, it was a tight fit. Confident that neither party would try anything funny, we squeezed into the seat and strapped in. We tested our intercom headsets, but it would become hard to hear anything even through the protection. Steve warned us to keep our hands inside. A small windscreen stood about a foot high--just in front of the open cockpit. I'm sure it made a huge difference during flight, but even with the screen the wind was simply unbelievable. Fierce. Unforgiving. Relentless. I was glad I had worn my leather flight jacket despite the warm weather. Steve fired up the engine and we taxied into position. The tower cleared us for departure. He advanced the throttle and with a throaty roar the little biplane picked up speed and swept down the runway and up into a beautiful sky with scattered clouds. Mock Dogfight We cruised north for a few minutes at an altitude of less than 1000 feet. It took a while to get used to the sensation of feeling the wind in our faces and seeing wings and struts all around. But the view was simply breathtaking! Nothing can compare to seeing the world without glass in the way. Of course, I've experienced that when skydiving, but jumps don't give you enough time to relax and enjoy what you're seeing. Here we could look around and take it all in.
Steve pointed to something at our 11 O'clock position and we recognized the Nine-O-Nine coming towards us. He moved a little closer and we passed each other a couple of hundred feet apart with 300 knots closure. We waved at the folks in the bomber. After we reached the Seattle city center, we turned left and headed west towards the shipyards. Following the water and looking down at the San Juan islands, with the afternoon sun dipping lower in the sky ahead was just gorgeous. Before long we spotted a float plane coming towards us at a high deflection angle, moving from our two o'clock position across the bow to our port side. It looked like a Beaver, painted bright yellow. At the merge, Steve broke left into the merge and put the nose up slightly. As we turned behind the Beaver we had a perfect angle for a shot. The pilot of the Beaver knew we had him and suddenly pulled back on the stick, shot up into a brief 30-degree climb and did a wingover hard to the right as if mortally wounded. We laughed and waved goodbye, then turned back to our original flight path. The Beaver pilot waggled his wings and thrilled us with some fast and low tree-skimming flight as he moved away into the distance.
Carriers Ahoy! Before long we could see the shipyards in the distance. Steve gave us a flyby on each side so each one of us had a good view of the scene below. In several bays we could see the huge hulls of nuclear submarines being dismantled for scrap metal. And to our delight there were three aircraft carriers docked at the shipyards. It looked like one was being resurfaced and painted, while the other two appeared set for deconstruction. What a sight that was! I've seen carriers from land and from sea. I've stood on their decks. But this was the first time I practically got to fly just a few hundred feet off the deck of one. People waved as we flew by with the perfect window-seat view. Then, far too early it seemed, the time had come to head for home. The most vivid memory was the sheer force of the wind in that open cockpit. I was reminded of the many movies that had so inspired me as I grew up. The Blue Max. The Great Waldo Pepper. Out of Africa. The magic of flight drew people like magnets in those early days, and even in this modern world of jet travel and advanced avionics that magic still holds enormous appeal when you can feel the wind whipping at your cheeks and clothing. There's simply nothing like it in the world. |
the joy of flying |
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Tight Fit 
