Once upon a time, on a small airport, at sun rise, no where near a stormy night, or near a land far far away, started a trek, of two small birds with visions of oshkosh airplanes bouncing in their heads.  The birds, (just for character development reasons), were a 2002 FFP Youngster "V", and a 97 VP-1.  Both powered by 1835cc VW engines, and built of some of the noblest of spruce trees, honored to be converted into the birds of which I write.  Yearly birds of spruce feel a call to head up stream to join in a mass reunion of sorts, with many other converted trees.  There is also a gathering of various ore (rock) based and "composite" (fiberglass also derived from a rock) birds of great mass, that try to shun our birds of cellulose.  Proudly our small heroes stand, and are viewed with great awe, as their keepers continue to polish them, and speak proudly of their opportunity to keep them at their best.  
     For the keeper of the VP, this was the first opportunity to proudly escort his bird through the many flocks that gather.  He had never imagined such a gathering!  The keeper of the Youngster, though a veteran of many pilgrimages, carried his own cloud nine to support his burgeoning pride as he rode his charge past the masses of other keepers of proud birds.  Once the parade has ended, the keepers lovingly nest their birds, for the week.
    Then a very strange trait arises among keepers.   They disturbingly wonder amongst other birds!?  They study them, they watch them, admire them and often the keepers shamelessly gather in small groups.  The birds can only imagine the worst!  Once, one sly bird appearing asleep, was able to over hear with great relief, the keepers banter.  Every keeper at the gathering would barely let the other keepers speak!  What ever was said braggingly about one's bird by one keeper, was always topped by the next.  Nothing but extreme loyalty!?  But why then do they look!?  Wait a minute!  I think we've struck a note here. . . . .Dear?  
     Boy would it be a quiet trip on they way home!?  Only many hours of polishing and doting once home will quell the green eyed monster the keeper's bird has become.  Some birds, quite out of control, protest and fight the whole trip home.  Shameless tantrums by some forcing the keeper to delay the progress to administer a settling dose of attention!  Time and time again.  
     Once home, there may be quiet for a while, but the keeper, every moment, ponders how best to seal a long term remedy.  Polishing and tweaking, the keeper spends his days, as again thoughts of the next migration glimmers in his mind.  Please, don't tell. .. . . ..




out  DTO Sulphur OK, Cleveland OK, Chanute KS, Lee's Summit KS, Trenton KS, Ottumwa IA, Marion IA, Platteville WI, Portage WI, Oshkosh WI
Return  Oshkosh, Morey WI, Platteville WI, Marion IA, Ottumwa IA, Trenton MO, Excelsior Springs MO, Gardner KS, Skiatook OK, Shawnee OK, Sulphur OK, Gainesville TX, Home.  


Early on the 28th, My wing man, Keith Schindler, and I taxied to our respective runways at our respective airports and took off for what would be a VERY long day, or two.  Hoping to have a decent tail wind, and good range, we saw a small window of opportunity to actually make Oshkosh in a single day.  As we took to the skies, we saw a initial ground speed of over 90 mph!  Not as high has hoped, but still encouraging.  The early morning is cool, and still, with the winds aloft helping us along.  Most airports planned for fuel, were picked to have Auto fuel, and self serve pumps.  Only about half of the stops had auto fuel.  A major benefit for our little VW power plants.  Sulphur Oklahoma was not one of them.  However the 100LL was reasonably priced compared to some other stops.  
    Fueling at Sulphur, we had our first wake up call for the day.  It seems my wing man is burning a bit more fuel than I.  Somewhere near a gallon extra burn per hour, combined with his inability to carry as much fuel as I, will probably challenge our travel today.  Airborne again, heading north, we head for Cleveland OK.  Straight west of Tulsa, and about 130 miles from this stop.  Our ground speed averages just over 80 mph for the leg.  The stop at Cleveland, brought us to the realization that our planned stops may not hold the test of flight.   Keith once had to dip deeply into his VFR reserve.  We would not stretch it again.  Winds at this point, at our comfortable cruise altitude were pretty useless to our needs.  Just short of our next planned stop at Iola KS, we realized that it would not be prudent to continue.   I then push the "GO TO NEAREST" button on my GPS, and we divert to Chanute KS.  These fellows treated us like we were flying Lear Jets!?   They even were able to get us our preferred Auto fuel, and ice cream!. 
     Winds on departure now are being a detriment to our progress.  Ground speeds dipping into the 60's we had to plan legs for the remainder of the day to target around 80 to 90 miles!  The only relief came in the realization that we could not make Oshkosh that day, so we'd be able to relax and enjoy the slow view of the country side.  At cruise. no consideration was given for the most part as to who was lead aircraft, and generally during a leg, each airplane would find a weight distribution that would give it a better speed than the other.  Generally we were within 100 yards of each other and not much said.  Open cockpit airplanes in the best of situations, are not a good place for conversation.  
     Our airplanes have very similar engine set ups, and this trip was not only a trip to Mecca, but a test by fire of the wind generator system I had developed.  Our only ignition on board is strictly VW.  The very Bosch 009 distributor, points, condensers, and Coil used in the air cooled beetles.  It all is powered by a small motorcycle battery behind or under the seat.  This set up is fine for local flying, but for a 900 mile cross country? .  This generator system was performing flawlessly!  Battery voltage was held to 12.8 or more volts.  No reason to pull the battery everyday to charge, just come back out in the morning, and throw the prop!  An additional load on our batteries on this trip was a fuel transfer pump that allowed us to extend our legs a bit.  I was able to hook my GPS, and ICom hand held into the system also, with good results. 
     Continuing along our way north we set the goal at Lee's Summit, in the south east part of Kansas city.  Celebrating along that way the passing of a train only to see it was heading the opposite direction!?  One merciful advantage of our route is that we were rarely near any major highway to observe even the smallest of vehicles passing us on a whim.  So our vista's were limited to the beginning of the rolling hills and farm land.  It is beautiful, but I'd rather be shooting past it so I can spend more time, viewing airplanes!  New concerns, however, are starting in my mind about the ability to get far enough along on this day to still achieve Oshkosh before the airport is closed at 1500 the next afternoon for the day's airshow.  We're again pressing our cruise speeds, and turn times at fueling stations.  
     As the sun is heading toward the horizon, we are helped out by the laying of the surface winds, and turbulence is now pretty much at a minimum. We are merely at about half way.  Throttles forward.  This leg will take us to Trenton missouri.  Airport information listed for this field says we'll have to contact the local fire department to have them unlock the pumps for us.  We call a head to assure the process will work and then head north in the airplanes.  
     Arriving at the Trenton airport just over about an hour and a half later, we find neither of our cell phones are able to go digital, and nobody on site has a quarter.  Setting things to analog roam the call goes through, (cha ching!) and we run the balance beam between, urgent, "I need you ASAP", and polite "do you realize how important it is to us?"  Though it seemed forever, the fire truck rumbled around the corner and gave us what we were desperate for.  About 4 or so gallons each.  I'm sure he's still thinking it was a waist of time for him.  We're headed north and focused on Ottumwa Iowa.
     We're now racing towards a town with no plans, no reservations, and no idea!  Part of the adventure here is not knowing where the night will be spent.  We couldn't plan that far ahead, since the goal was Oshkosh.  I did however call all the planned airports along the way after Kansas City that I considered would by probable overnights.  This is not one of those towns.  The route was flown at rather low altitude, enjoying the still surface winds.  This was probably one of the most memorable.  With the sun nearly set, the colors were vivid, and the contour enhanced.  I caught two glimpses of local wildlife that could only be found on post cards with staged and stuffed animals!  Several wild turkeys scurried through the brush, undoubtedly running from this noisy one.  Then just over the next hill in a clearing stood a very large Buck Deer!  His head held high, with his rather large chest squarely reflecting the setting sun.  Very proud, but wise enough with age to know any bird larger than he, is worth running from! He disappeared into the trees.  
       Ottumwa Industrial is a very large airport, with what appeared to be very small airplanes.  Entering downwind for the active runway I realize we are barely outside the local Radio control field.  Both planes swallowed up by the huge plate of concrete, we taxied to the terminal area.  We were told that tie downs, fuel and lodging was available.  Aircraft stowed and fueled for the night, my wing man spent a bit of extra time producing a custom canopy cover for the evening.  Custom canopy covers by Hefty!  Trash bags that is!  The exhaustion of the day, really never hits you until you slowly driving towards supper, and the hotel.  As the adrenaline, and endorphins wane, a mere blank stare is about all is left.  Early morn departure looms to keep us on schedule.
     Up at sunrise we are greeted with the worst prospect for a departure that can be had for our mounts.  Watching a duck walk by, tapping a white stick was what clinched it.  The fog was too thick for our VVA's, (very VFR airplanes!) We're in a holding pattern sitting on our duffs that would last nearly three hours.  This time was spent pacing, and planning for the day ahead.  We would have a minimum of three further fuel stops, and still the need to arrive at Oshkosh before 1500.  Also looking over our airplanes, I see that the toe in on my airplane is taking a major toll on my tires.  An added concern to watch on each landing, hoping for grass.  Ceilings are lifting a bit, blue is seen in the breaks, time to get started.  Marion IA is the plan.
     Hugging the ground with each bird independently searching for any obstruction that may encroach.  All towers are called out even if obvious.  Keith's help here is essential as the view out the front of my windscreen is complicated by the cabane structure and I am often heads down programing and checking options on the GPS.  A calm pretty morning, and the haze rises to a scant puffy or two.  Marion airport is the perfect rural airport with both hard surface and grass options.  We again score our needed fuel, (auto) and run to the nearest wall chart. It's 1030 and time is pressing and we're one state away, and it looks like two more stops,  Platteville  WI is next.  
     This leg takes us across the antitheses of Texas.  The view from our only slightly lofted wooden adirondack chairs reveal deep, rich green crops atop the many rolling hills.  Each farm house with it's barn and silo, would make the perfect post card from the region. Each field seems to have been staggered with different grains, and grasses to reveal a pattern such as the stripes on our flag makes as it blows in the wind.  The main difference in these postcard views is that they come with the smells!  The grains, fresh cut grass, plowed dirt, and yes even the most fragrant of dairy farms!  
      Here we are well over 800 miles from home, just north of Dubuque IA.  We pretty much instinctively climb to near 2000 feet as we approach the shore of  the Mighty, Muddy, Massive, Mississippi River where Illinois, Wisconsin, and Iowa meet.  I look down over my left shoulder to check on my wing man.  Seems rather significant to see that yellow and blue VP-1 so far from home, crossing a the north end of such a significant land mark.  I know these birds were probably not designed for such an adventure, but the engines and airframes cover them aptly, still one mile at a time, ignorant of any limitation.  We pass over the top of Platteville to check the wind sock, a quick right turn to the proper runway, and we're at the pumps. 
     One more fuel stop is required to assure we have enough fuel to fly the VFR approach into Oshkosh.  Not a situation where you have anything else to concern yourself with but flying the airplane, and looking for traffic.  We head to Portage WI.  In route to Portage we saw a completely different landscape.  Though I think they would only classify as hills, they were impressive when they rose with rock faces above the altitude we were cruising.  I'd called ahead of time to Portage, to assure the availability of fuel, and a quick turn.  After waiting for a Spam Can Piper to fill four tanks and converse with everybody around, we finally rushed the pumps and filled out tanks and headed out.  It is near 1400 and we're in striking distance.  
     Our hurried departure didn't leave much time for briefing the approach from Ripon on.  Very shortly after departure I started listening for the ATIS at Whitman field.  Nothing but static.  No idea which runways were active, or what approach color would be used. I quickly thumbed through the NOTAM pages in my hands to try to get a feel of what to expect today, no luck.  Inside of RIPON, still nothing to be heard.  The plan was for me to form up on Keith, not now.  With this hitch in communications, I needed him to now follow me and hopefully my experience having flown through here many times, would smooth things out. 
     On approach frequency at FISK, we with great relief were hearing him loud and clear.  My wing man sitting steady at 7 high, is to say the least, focused!  The controller at FISK breaks our flight and Keith moves in trail.  Sorry he's now on his own!  What a place to be dropped!  No ATIS, no arrival plan, no experience here!?  Could be over overwhelming I'm sure.  Contemplating this, the FISK controller barks at me, and my wing, to make a quick left 360 to allow faster traffic, (who ain't!?) to pass.  I'm glad they don't care about bank angle around here!  Controller compliments our efforts and sends us on down the tracks for runway 27 and onto the Tower frequency.  As we switch frequencies, we hear them closing the gate at RIPON.  We made it in with only about 5 minutes to spare.  
      Tower frequency was as fun as ever.   Lots of barking, but only one runway in use this close to the start of the airshow.  Abeam the tower, I'm told to start my "decent."  I do, but soon realize that they don't want a decent, they want a split "S" to final!  Now, I'm grinning!  Hard right, a bit of top rudder, throttle chopped, the tower only saw the top of my little bird as I dropped from the sky.  I'm now over the numbers.  He orders me down the runway in ground effect as fast as I can go to the "Green dot".  At one foot altitude, A deep red and black, Regal looking Stearman passes off my left side with his nose in the dirt and tail in the air.  Quick thought to myself, is that I hope Keith is not distracted by this.  Throttle at full, I hear his compliments for my work.  At the dot, throttle again chopped and I plop at the Dot, and head for the grass.  
     We're here, we're safe, and we're proud!  Taxiing towards the show center, I'm tagged by various Marshallers to head to different areas of the display aircraft.  Each time I have to proudly say that I've been requested by Fisher Flying Products to display my little bird in their display booth in the Ultralight area.  I finally reach the area within 100 yards, and am forced to shut down and pull the airplane by hand into the area.  Quickly a bystander, grabs my prop and helps me all the way to the booth.  Mr. Gene Hanson, with a friendly smile, and handshake, expresses his gratitude for my coming, and tells me to go to the trailer, put my feet up, get something to drink, and "your airplane is mine" is what I heard!  That was the last time, I had to fret over my airplane for the entire week!  You don't know how much of a benefit this is.  
      The week with the Hansons was an absolute pleasure.  My bird sat amongst the most beautiful airplanes on the field.  Every one of them show winners in my opinion.  These airplanes are what EAA used to be about!  Low cost, flying fun, that can be built at home with average tools. 
     Next will be the return trip!  Two days of fun!  Well Almost three days, and plenty of excitement and challenges for a whole week.