Life with a Luscombe: Return to Clemson

It was my last day of leave and the agenda was stacked. I had been coordinating with Dan over in Clemson to take care of some details with the Luscombe. It was another early morning for my dad and me as we departed around 6:30 for PDK. The forecasts were calling for IFR or poor Marginal VFR conditions for the next hour in Atlanta. It was CAVU just east of Gwinnett County all the way to Clemson. I pre-flighted the airplane with my dad’s help then started looking northeast. I could see IFR conditions to the north heading our way with marginal VFR ceilings overhead. A glimmer of light shown towards Stone Mountain in the east. I decided to make my escape; my dad and I said our goodbyes and I propped the airplane.

Still Inside the Atlanta Perimeter

My preflight and runup checks weren’t rushed but I definitely moved with a purpose. The PDK tower cleared me for takeoff with an eastbound turn. I got up to about 1,200 ft AGL with enough margin to maintain cloud clearance and made my way weaving east. Two miles west of Stone Mountain, I broke out into the clear and started a climb. Another overcast layer hung over Gwinnett County Airport which I passed over as I called for a Class Delta transition.

The Brilliance of a Beautiful Morning

Just east of Gwinnett, all the visible moisture was gone and I was left with the early brightness of the morning. The radio fell silent, the air was as smooth as it ever gets, and I fell into a safe aviator’s daze. The oil pressure and temperature were steady, the Appalachians slowly crept by off in the distance, and the scenery struck me as especially pretty. All of a sudden, I realized I was way too high for such a slow airplane. Pointing the nose gently down, Luscombe 903 easily descended to 1,000 ft AGL and the view got much better.

Pictures Never Do the View Justice

I-85 lay just off the starboard side and I turned to follow it. Chasing trucks with the window open for the next twenty minutes kept me occupied until I came across a private strip. I gave the strip a proper Sunday morning wakeup call at about 200 ft and then got back on course to Clemson. 

A Truck Stop - The View Most Travelers Get

Lake Hartwell came into view. I followed I-85 until I came to the main body of Hartwell and then turned north to follow it to Clemson. I climbed to traffic pattern altitude and joined the left base to Runway 25 for an uneventful landing.

Hartwell Approaching

I taxied clear then headed toward Dan’s hangar. I shut down in front of the engineless Stearman across the way and got out to greet Dan. He looked my airplane over and was very impressed. Cole, the president of the Clemson Flying Club and a good friend, also showed up to help. We pulled 903’s nose into the hangar and got ready for an oil change. This was my first time changing the oil on an A65 and Dan gladly showed me the ins and outs. We pulled out the oil screen and filtered the contents for metal. We found a few tiny flakes, which if I had been solo would have been concerning, but Dan reassured me they were normal. Everything went back together correctly and we put the airplane in a tie down spot and headed out for food.

We rode Dan’s VW Bug, which he had just finished restoring, to Jersey Mike’s for a well-deserved lunch. On the way back, he let me drive and, thankfully, I didn’t burn up his clutch or grind any gears—success!

The wind had really picked up by this point, but Dan said he would tag along with me in his Luscombe for a few miles to get some pictures. He propped me off and I warmed up the Continental as I waited for him. We taxied out together as a flight and, as usual, my tailwheel bumped off the pavement as I attempted to turn back into the wind. Dan reassured me over the radio that I would get it eventually.

Runups complete, I took runway 25 for departure, checked the sock, and applied full power. The wind immediately started to fight me and I got into a weird momentary pitch oscillation. Thankfully ‘903 broke ground for good and clung to the air. Turbulence off the trees made the departure even sportier and I was relieved when the airplane settled into a steady, though choppy, climb. Dan called an abort on his takeoff and told me over the radio that he didn’t think he would be able to make it back into Clemson. Yikes! If Dan was concerned, I really needed to find a good place to stop for gas that wouldn’t be too challenging. The airborne scene had completely changed—gone was the serene breeze, driven out by biting winds, busy turbulence, and building cumulus. The flight home was going to be interesting.

To be continued...