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The license plates of Canada’s most southwesterly province proclaim “Beautiful British Columbia.” And how. A verdant land of lush forests, tall mountains, and water, still and moving. And a country of solicitous and friendly people, all of it beckoning in the time of Covid. We sidestepped the summer airline travel laments by saddling up our Cirrus—N711QT—for the 1017 nautical mile flight each way between…
It’s not exactly Bilbo’s There and Back Again, but any travel in these pandemic cursed times is a bit of an adventure, as was our week-long getaway to Puget Sound, Whidbey and Lopez islands. We weren’t subjected to taking off belts and shoes or mask-fogged glasses while stuffed in a crowded tube, the Cirrus time-machine saving us from that fate. But this year, the…
Some backstory is needed for this. On Wednesday my airplane owner partner, Mason, slammed at his SwimLabs business, asked if I could help by returning a tech consultant named Al that he’d brought down from the Bay Area. Let’s see, a fair weather day, and my professional aviation chops are needed to fly to San Francisco? Oh, twist my arm. This provided another opportunity—I…
Barra Navidad Air Force February. Winter. Cirrus magic carpet. Escape. México. Last fall the Cirrus Owners and Pilots Association announced plans for this season’s group flight getaway to Alamos, Sonora, and Bajía de Navidad, near Manzanillo, Colima, Mexico. I jumped on the opportunity, paired up with a time that Cathy, the resident SDSU professor, had free from academia. It turned out to be a large and…
Like Rumpole of the Bailey, I am wedded to “She Who Must be Obeyed,” also known as “Ol’ What’s Her Name,” affectionate titling for my bride of THIRTY YEARS! this month. Trying unsuccessfully to keep up with my dotage, Cathy nonetheless managed to qualify for Medicare in May, ample motivation for a celebratory trip, adventurously worthy of age denial and anniversary exultation. Naturally, I obeyed her summons, and agreed that…
Chilly February. In multiple winters and springs past we have journeyed south in trade of chilly for chillies and the warmth of near tropical Mexico. This year there was the additional motivation of a group flight rendezvous arranged by COPA—the Cirrus Owners and Pilots Association. Climate change reversal of fortunes. We departed a distinctly habanero San Diego (daytime eighties) for a decidedly minty (sixties) Baja California Sur, with…
Summertime, and the siren call of floats rippling on water. In years past this has always involved the joy of myriad lakes in Alaska’s Kenai peninsula. This year, after due consideration, I decided that Washington’s Puget Sound area beckoned. We made arrangements for lodging and rental car, reserved a couple of days’ floatplane rental, loaded our Cirrus, and struck out for the Pacific Northwest. During…
My wife, Cathy, has an affliction—when she’s free from her SDSU professorial duties, as with the recently completed Spring semester —she’s compelled to tempt me to travel somewhere, anywhere, but especially to regions she has not previously explored. Translated—”Let’s take the Cirrus and fly to the east coast to visit Aunt Tilda, and see some of our country I haven’t yet explored.” What? At one level, this is music…
Cathy conjured up the idea of Spring in our nation’s capital, with a side trip to visit Aunt Tilda in Williamsburg. Plans laid on, including a visit, at last, to the Smithsonian’s Steven F. Udvar-Hazy expansion to the Air and Space Museum for me, a pilot’s pilgrimage to Mecca. Unfortunately, as we sat in the boarding area awaiting our flight, cancellations on other departures filled our plane…
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