Mississippi to Maine by Luscombe: Day 1

The alarm went off extra early. I eagerly rose and dressed. Today was the start of the biggest trip of my life so far. Our goal: fly from Mississippi to Maine and back again, all in the Luscombe. Lars had also stirred and we gathered our camping gear and clothes together and loaded up in the truck. It was still dark outside as we made our way to Ocean Springs Airport. 

This was Lars’s first time seeing ‘903 and he was enthralled. I had a few maintenance to-dos to complete and got to work. Lars took off the hubcaps and we checked to make sure that the hub nuts I had installed the afternoon before were still tight. Thankfully, they were still snug.

Final Checks Complete

We managed to cram most of our essentials into the minuscule aft baggage compartment of the Luscombe and then pulled the airplane out for fuel. By this point, the sun was up, bright, and hot. Sweat was already building on my brow. The Continental initially took some encouragement to start but soon it smoothly purred along as we back-taxied out for departure.

Remember that I said we had gotten most of our stuff into the baggage compartment? Well, Lars had his hands full with our lunch box and his camera case as we departed. Once we were airborne I took one of the bags in my lap and we retraced the tracks I had made to the west the last few days as we headed for our first stop of the trip, Shade Tree. Leaving the Gulfport Delta to the north, we noticed that the intercom started to act up. The right-side button was sticking which was messing up not only the intercom, but also the integral radio. 

A Tight Fit with Everything Aboard

The button was constant trouble but the left intercom worked okay so we worked out a system with only one button, although we did agree it was going to be an interesting trip with the issue. We joined the pattern at Shade Tree and made a decent wheel-landing. The Saturday morning peanut gallery was out in force. An older gentleman who was well acquainted with Luscombes, complimented my landing but told me to try slowing it down a little in the future. I thanked him and filed his advice away to be remembered. 

I told Mr. Danny our issue with the intercom and he found some contact cleaner which did the trick on our PTT intercom. It never caused another problem. We watched a Stearman and RV-12 depart then headed out ourselves, bound for my glider club, the Coastal Soaring Association in Elsanor, Alabama.

We headed back for the coast and then turned east. I pointed out Ocean Springs, Pascagoula, and Mobile as we followed the shoreline. As we neared Mobile Bay, I pushed the little Luscombe’s nose down towards the water and then south. We headed over to Dauphin Island at low level and came up just enough to join a left base for a touch and go at Denton Airport's peninsula runway. 

On the upwind, we passed over the south shore of Dauphin Island and once again pointed the nose eastward. We followed the barrier islands along the east side of the bay and then climbed up enough to make it over land toward Elsanor. The gliders were already up in flocks around the area and were struggling to hear our transmissions so we waited a few minutes before cautiously joining the pattern for a landing on the upsloping runway 27. 

My airspeed and pattern were all wrong and I initiated a go-around at about mid-field. Elsanor is only 2,400 ft long and the trees at the end rushed underneath a bit too close for comfort. We stayed in the pattern and I got the energy down enough to make a proper landing. Nobody on the ground complained and agreed that the go-around was the right decision. 

Eric, my buddy from school, had agreed to meet us for a ride in the glider and the Luscombe. Both Lars and Eric went up in the front seat of our club’s Grob 103 with me flying from the backseat. They both thoroughly enjoyed the ride. We then switched to the Luscombe and both Jefferson and Evelyn, our two favorite kids at the Gliderport, went for a spin.

'903 Enjoying the Sun at Elsanor

Since Elsanor is fairly short and we were heavy with baggage, we decided to offload all of our stuff into Eric’s car and he agreed to meet us over at Foley Airport about ten miles away. I beat Eric and Lars there by a few minutes and got the airplane gassed up and tied down. 

We broke for lunch and had a great pizza at a local Italian restaurant. Eric drove us back to the airport and we said our goodbyes. Foley is one of the Navy’s contracted locations for pilot flight screening. Some very jealous pilots-to-be watched us pack the Luscombe and depart.

We started our great trek north with our first stop for the night planned at Center-Piedmont Airport. I had called the airport manager the day before and he kindly granted our request to camp and use their showers. With only fourteen gallons in a full tank, the Luscombe is not exactly a long-distance cross-country machine. Our fuel got us to Prattville, Alabama, just west of Montgomery. The coastal plain was business as usual for me and it wasn’t until we departed Prattville that we started to notice the terrain. 

We stayed low and set course for the valley which runs from Anniston up to Center-Piedmont. Not long after takeoff, I realized we were going to pass right over the Coosa River. It clicked right then and there to both of us that this trip wasn’t simply about the destination—it was truly about the journey itself. As soon as we got to the Coosa, we dropped down some more and followed the river for forty miles. 

The Coosa

The rolling hills around us started to turn into low ridges, valleys, and mountains. We turned northeast, leaving the Coosa behind, and followed a valley to the town of Talladega before heading on to Anniston. Talladega’s famous racetrack passed a few miles off our left wing. Soon we were over Anniston, where my dad had worked for six years. We then continued up the valley towards even more familiar terrain. 

My old hometown of Jacksonville and a flood of sweet memories swept into view but something wasn’t right. Many roofs throughout the town were bright blue. It all came back to me and I remembered the recent tornado which has swept through the town. We circled in somber silence observing the destruction left behind. I saw my old house and many other familiar landmarks. We continued on, enjoying the sights and smells of this familiar valley so impressed on my childhood memory. 

The airport came into view and we joined the pattern and landed. The sun was almost gone but we refueled, used the bathroom and I hopped back into the airplane for a few laps in the pattern for Lars’s camera. We set up camp by the main hangar, took showers, and ate dinner out of the lunch box. 

Sunset in Piedmont

Sleep came quickly despite the continued adventure which awaited us at sunrise.

5R2-MS82-4R9-1AL4-5R4-1A9-PYP, 7.0 Hours, 8 Landings

Life with a Luscombe: Shade Tree via Luscombe

I spent the first few months of Wednesday evenings in Biloxi going out to Shade Tree for the weekly fly-in dinner. Not yet owning an airplane, I always drove. It was also winter so nobody else was flying either since the days were short. Eventually, flight instructing got busy and my visits to Shade Tree became much less frequent.

Once I had firmly decided in my head that I would buy the Luscombe, I also decided to set aside my Wednesdays and get back to Shade Tree via the air. Alice, a former student, agreed to go with me for this first trip and we loaded up in the Luscombe bound for grass runways, free food, and good company.

Departing Ocean Springs, I climbed to 500 feet and followed the coastline westbound. Keesler AFB tower kindly cleared us through their Delta and handed us over to Gulfport. As usual, the controller wasn’t familiar with the alien idea of an airplane without a transponder so it took a little work for them to figure out where we were, where we wanted to go, and how we would get there without being able to squawk a code! Leaving the airspace to the north the controller said, “Luscombe 903, Squawk VFR, and Frequency Change Approved.” I tried to think of something witty to say on the fly since I couldn’t squawk VFR but nothing came to me.

Passing Keesler

The multicom into Shade Tree was silent and we found ourselves to be the only ones in the pattern. A decent wheel landing put us on the grass and we taxied over toward my friend Jerry who was waving. Alice went to see old friends and I showed Jerry around the Luscombe. Since the Luscombe doesn’t fly well in boots and I had forgotten my tennis shoes, we kicked our shoes off in the grass and I attempted to prop us off as Jerry held the brakes.

We didn’t have the throttle cracked enough and the still-hot Continental wasn’t happy as it drowned in fuel and heat. The clearing procedure worked and eventually the A65 sputtered to life. We taxied out and I went almost all the way up the overrun which can be used for departure on Shade Tree’s runway 17. I had been in and out of Shade Tree the day I bought the airplane but now I was departing with nearly full fuel and a passenger. Since I didn’t want to pay a visit to the trees at the end of the runway the overrun seemed like a good idea and we departed with no issues.

The ole Luscombe took its time in the climb with our full load. As we climbed, an idea popped into my head—I realized I had never stalled my airplane and wanted to try it out. We decided to do some steep turns, power-off stalls, and even a few power-on stalls. Jerry and I both took turns and then we headed back in for a full stop. The landing approach and round-out was normal but the roll-out gave me a good little surprise.

Shade Tree is a typical grass strip with some bumps here and there. As Jerry and I rolled down to runway, the right gear caught an interesting bump at about 30 mph and the airplane swung right. A very healthy dose of left rudder fixed the issue but it was my first experience with a taildragger really trying to depart the straight and narrow on me. Jerry mentioned he really noticed it as well and was glad I caught it when I did.

We shut down on the tie down line which was farther from our shoes than from where we started. We stumbled our way toward the shoes through a large patch of briars hidden in the grass, stopping often to pull out a painful sticker.

Two Old Friends

Dinner and conversation were good as usual but the sound of a radial pulled us back outside. The T-6 owner was giving his cousin a ride and Alice ended up getting to go as well. The Texan is definitely a smile-maker and Alice really enjoyed the flight. By the time she was back on the ground, the sun was sinking for the horizon and our day VFR-only Luscombe needed to get home.

Back on the Shoreline Headed Home

We retraced our steps home past Gulfport and down to the coast. While lower Mississippi is not what many would consider to be picturesque, the Gulf Coast at sunset from the air is not bad at all. We went down to 300 ft and enjoyed running down the coast just off the shore. We took pictures of a few mansions on the water and made our way around Ocean Spring’s shoreline to the Graveline Bay. Heading west towards Ocean Springs Airport, we climbed up to pattern altitude, joined the pattern, and made an okay landing. It had been yet another great evening with the Luscombe.

Over the Back Bay North of East Biloxi

Life with a Luscombe: Commuting to "Work"

It was a typical after-work evening and I had a flying lesson with one of my instrument students. Since we were planning to fly while it was still light out, I elected to take the Luscombe over even though it added a ton of time to my travel; as they say, “Time to spare? Go by air.” I drove to Ocean Springs, changed, then pre-flighted the airplane. I didn’t bother to check the gas with the stick since I had flown only an hour after my last refueling on the way home from Clemson but I still checked the visual gauge in the back wall of the cockpit. The indicator was between ½ and ¾ tank—perfect.

A Luscombe Fuel Site Gauge Off a Model A Ford

I hurried through the rest of the pre-flight since I was about ten minutes behind schedule. I pulled the airplane out and tied it down at the tail to start. The cold start procedure worked and it started on the first blade after I made the mags hot. I ran back around to the cockpit and brought the engine down to low idle, checked the oil pressure, and carefully untied the tail.

Gingerly climbing into the cockpit, I got everything set before taxiing out and performing the runup. The winds were out of the southeast at about five knots and I made my call then gave the Luscombe the gun. I was up and away by midfield and made my turnout to Trent Lott at about 400 ft.

The hop over to Trent Lott was quick and easy although the controller misunderstood me when I called up from the southwest. He thought I was due south of the field but I corrected him and got an appropriate pattern entry. Checklist complete, I was cleared to land and made the usual hard slipping turn down to the runway. My airspeed got down to 60 at one point which scared me at first but I reminded myself to always stay on top of the airspeed in a slip, especially so close to the ground. Even with a 30 degree crosswind I made a decent wheel landing and taxied in. I shut down and both Todd, one of my commercial students, and Carrie came out to see the airplane.

I got her buckled in, instructed Todd on when to untie the tail and then pulled it though on hot mags with the throttle cracked—it started on the third blade. We taxied out and did a runup and controls check. The takeoff roll started with the stick all the way back and to the right to account for the approximately six knot crosswind. The crosswind input didn’t come out quickly enough and as the Luscombe broke ground we ended up drifting into the wind a little. Carrie enjoyed the short flight down to the beach and back. The landing was one of those too slow wheel landings that quickly turned into an ugly three-pointer. At least I had accounted for the wind and didn’t hurt the airplane.

We taxied back in and did a hot switch with Tod now taking the copilot's seat—another shortcut so that I wouldn’t have to prop us off a third time. By now, you may have noticed that this had turned into a “cutting corners” flight. These are the kind of flights that end up damaging airplanes and killing people. Unfortunately, the shortcut string of events wasn’t over yet.

Carrie and I flew her 182 for an instrument lesson, practicing ILS approaches, and then headed back into PQL. Eager to get my day VFR-only Luscombe back over to Ocean Springs, I assumed that the Luscombe was fine without a preflight since it had just flown, another dangerous chain of reasoning. I elected to just check the oil and then hop in and go. It started right up with the hot-start procedure and I was away. Upon clearing the Class Delta, I tried checking my airspeed indicator by flying the four cardinal headings and averaging the GPS ground speeds together. It came out within one mph and I was pleased. The sun was getting rather low by this point but I figured there were still a few minutes left to play. Noting that the western edge of the bayou between Pascagoula and Gautier was clear of the Delta, I pointed the little Luscombe’s nose down and enjoyed several minutes of chugging over the curving deserted rivers at 500 ft.

A Pretty View and a Pretty Tense Situation

As I turned around to head for home, I glanced back at the fuel gauge. It was below the ¼ tank mark! I went into a mental panic and realized I had flown the airplane home from Evergreen, commuted to Trent Lott, gave two rides, and was messing around over the marsh with nary a clue of exactly what my fuel situation was! I turned direct for Ocean Springs and pulled the power and the airspeed way back to head for best range speed. I was only seven miles from Ocean Springs but was still as tense as a tick. Checking the tach log, I had about 2.3 hours of time since the last refuel. Knowing that tach time is less than actual Hobbs time, I wasn’t confident and was constantly searching for landing spots all the way home.

Horrible thoughts ran through my head of losing this beautiful airplane and all the shame, financial loss, and potential bodily harm which could come from running the tank dry while still airborne. A Cessna was in the pattern ahead of me and he made a full stop and easy exit off the runway as I turned final. I was finally within gliding range and the tension eased. I made an okay wheel landing and then made a less than graceful turn on the runway to taxi back to the hangar. After shutting down, I immediately checked with the stick and it was halfway between the 5-gallon mark and the bottom. I guessed I had between two and three gallons of fuel which matched with the post-refueling gallon total. I made a mark for this new low on the stick and then pushed the airplane back into its nest to fly another day.

Home Again - Safe and Sound