Mississippi to Maine by Luscombe: Day 2

The birds in upper Alabama must wake up especially early—they had sung us awake well before dawn. I hadn’t slept that well anyway, thanks to my overinflated air-mattress. I don’t know how Lars possibly slept with his sleeping bag on the bare tent ground. We got up, packed up our equipment, and wolfed down breakfast. The sun beat us in our race to the sky before we could start the engine, but we didn’t miss it by much.

An Upper Alabama Sunrise

Departing Center-Piedmont, we strayed further into the start of the Appalachians as low as we could legally go. It was one of those perfect mornings for flying with incredibly smooth air, where all the airplane’s movements were truly only of the pilot’s hand. Rome, Georgia, a popular $100 Burger spot from Atlanta, poked around the corner of a low mountain.

The Start of the Appalachians

The real Appalachians appeared ahead. Though this wasn’t my first rodeo in an airplane that couldn’t out-climb a dead-end valley, we were going to have to be careful. Dan and I had made that run up into the Appalachians in his airplane once, but my only other mountain experience was in 180 hp Cessna 172s. We passed over a lake and it took me a minute to recognize that we were near Gilmer County. Even though we were in the mountains, they weren’t high enough yet to clearly register as an elevation change on our sectional. Lesson learned: get better at reading contour lines and elevations.

Valleys to Which Should Raise Concern

We threaded our way between two peaks following a road toward Blairsville, another common lunch stop out of Atlanta. A few minutes later, Atlanta and the coastal plain were back in sight! We had taken a wrong turn! Another lesson learned: if the chart shows an intersection between the mountains, make sure to avoid missing it or making the wrong turn. We were learning quickly and thankfully, the mountains weren’t tall enough yet to punish us for our transgressions.

We pressed on with Blairsville disappearing past the right wing. Another wrong turn put us in the wrong valley to get to our next fuel stop, Macon County in North Carolina. Thankfully, we were able to turn around again without an issue and keep on our way. The terrain had been beautiful so far but now the sights were becoming majestic. A little turbulence tried to discourage us, but we were able to avoid what we thought might have been the trouble areas.

Chatuge Lake marked our crossing from Georgia into North Carolina. Macon County Airport was just barely visible over the next ridgeline so we hopped over it and began our descent to land. A clueless sounding Piper Cherokee Six was on frequency and we landed before he started his mountain adventure, thankful to be in our Luscombe. A top off, a few pictures, and a restroom visit highlighted our visit and we were soon back on our way.

Resting at Macon County

Jackson County Airport rolled into view a few minutes later after we had climbed out of Macon County’s valley. We made a tailwind, downhill touch-and-go and then kept on our way. Not the brightest idea of the trip but it sure was fun!

Some more rugged mountains knocked our socks off east of Jackson County. The terrain eventually dropped off into a sweeping valley west of Asheville, NC. We followed the French Broad River back into the mountains and over into Tennessee for our next stop at the Elizabethton Municipal Airport, nested in the corner of a valley tucked up against the mountains on three sides. Lars and I spent many minutes wondering how Elizabethton was pronounced until a local on the ground overheard us try out every possible wrong way.

We tied down and were met by a line guy. As usual, he was looking at the wings for the fuel tanks so I pointed him to the fuselage tank. I warned him about how easy it is to overflow the tank and that, so far, every lineman had successfully made a 100 LL fountain out of my poor airplane and its paint job. He fervently accepted the challenge, almost as a bet, and went to get the truck.

I came back a few minutes later to find streaks on the fuselage and gas fumes in the cockpit. The Luscombe got another one! Since it was Mother’s Day we called our moms before heading to Beef ‘O’ Bradys for a lunch in their honor. We spent some time back at the FBO talking and looking at the weather. We were in no rush.

Elizabethton, TN

Convection and turbulence were making their way down the Appalachians, heading our way, so we made a drastic change of plans and shifted our eyes westward to avoid a nasty stationary front firmly entrenched over the Appalachians and east coast. We searched for a place to spend the night and came across Robert Newlon Field, a fly-in campground with a grass runway on the West Virginia side of the Ohio River. I was concerned because both Foreflight and FunPlacetoFly.com advertised only 2,300 ft of runway with obstructions on both ends. I called and asked the lady who picked up about the strip. Turns out, it was actually 3,000 ft with an overrun—Score!

We departed Elizabethton and headed out across West Virginia. The turbulence was churning both the air and our stomachs so we stayed fairly high. The unchanging hilly terrain of West Virginia astounded me. Here was a whole state of nothing but hills with almost no open terrain! The terrain was strewn with mines, clearly showing their damage to the landscape. Houses and little communities were sprinkled throughout the hills, especially along the rivers.

West Virginia

The Ohio River eventually came into sight and we made a low pass at Newlon. Everything looked clear. I made the approach and set us down with a little bit of a bounce. We slowed down and yawed to the right to make our turn for a taxi back. I went full rudder a little too quick and the Luscombe swung around nice and quick—so quick that the tailwheel unlocked and we were left stranded pointed for the ditch. Lars dove out and pushed the tail back into joint and we taxied in to the laughs of our onlookers.

New Friends at Newlon Field

They were good sports about it and greeted us warmly. We had a little gang hanging around the airplane for almost half an hour as we talked Luscombes and old taildraggers. They told us all about their little slice of heaven—the campground, the skydiving, the boat dock, and the restaurant. Newlon Field was quite the place and we took everything in, including the river.

The Ohio River

After resting and nodding off in the shade, we headed for the Fly In Café just up the hill from the runway. The food was great and the owner talked with us for quite a while about aviation and his plans for the airport. Dinner complete, we headed back outside and I got back in the Luscombe to take a few more laps for the video camera. Unfortunately, the pressure of being on film didn’t help with some landings but it was still fun. Editor’s note: that is the weakest excuse I’ve heard yet!

We made camp for the night as the sun set, took our showers, and tried to nod off in the West Virginia heat, sweltering even at night. Sweat poured off my face but we finally wised up and opened the tent flaps. A little breeze and the cool night air rushed in and we dozed off.

PYP-1A5-24A-0A9-I41, 6.7 Hours, 9 Landings