TL;DR: Pappy was always a fan of late September/October travel. Fall colors were peaking, ankle-biters imprisoned in classrooms, gas prices down from summer. Time of the year when the tools need a break and the head needs an airing out…
School’s Out Time
My late father, being a fire officer, had a regular vacation, sure. But, three times a year he also got an “eight-day off.” Which meant it was time to go fishing. School be damned. My parents believed that going fishing was an important father-son time. If that meant missing a few days to go fishing?
Pappy got in hot water with at least one teacher, I can remember. She was angry and made no bones about it. “He will miss social studies!” she complained. “But he will be traveling – seeing America up close, talking to other fishermen and learning about their lives, ” he pointed out. “If that’s not social studies, I don’t know what you think is…” The fishing was good.
My two sisters often went on such adventures, along with Mom. Camping was dry – gnerally better than trips after Easter Break. Fall weather (about now) or either side of Easter Break is fine, generally, too. Roads aren’t as crowded. Easier to get a lake side camp site, few if any fire restrictions (YMMV).
While “the kids” were getting along with their “growing up” the folks took time to tour the country on a semi-regular basis. Swinging down to Las Vegas, for a few days of “serious investing” it was a roll easy across the middle South. About halfway up the East Coast, the trees were turning. By the time they got back, venturing into Canada (back when it was a more homogeneous country) the “fall change” along the Trans Canada was quite miraculous. Mom talked about it for months.
“Regular vacation months” I quickly learned, were for people who were easily herded and like the comfort of other animals. The more independent you are, the more important vacations become. Until, when you figure out how to have enough to get by – without attracting undue attention- you can design and move into a life featuring a kind of permanent “vacation state of mind.”
The Takeaway? If you and your spouse can raise three children, each with a Masters in something, and no one in your immediate tribe has ever spent a night in jail? Who, pray tell, is so qualified as to claim rights to judge if, or when, you should be “permitted” to live your life according to your heart and calling?
Oh, and if you ever catch a female King Salmon, heading down Puget Sound to spawn? Save the eggs in the fridge. They were the best damn “single-egging” bait for trout fishing that ever was. Ah, the smell and taste of Thermos coffee with hands still stinking from threading on eggs while trout fishing… You could smell a boat with a smoker in it half a mile upwind.
Plane Lust
Fall is also the time of year when we used to log our best long-range single engine flying adventures. Summer in the south? You need to be airborne at sunrise – or just before. On a sunny summer by not, cockpit plexiglass lined a flying sauna. Grabbing your initial flight level, bingo! It’s cooler “upstairs.” About 3-degrees per thousand feet. At 9,000 it’s almost 30-degrees cooler on a hot day. Nothing could be better…
Except for the bills, of course. With the markets in blow-off mode now, we have thought about another plane – the eyes are marginal, good enough to drive, sure. But with Elaine’s eyes plus mine – since we did the NIR (red light) therapy and that put the kibosh on her age-related macular degeneration (AMD with a side of iridotomies for safety sake), we could still team fly.
But costs have changed, too. We got into the Beechcraft (150 HP Musketeer) for a little over $22,000. Then we went through it for another $20,000 on top of that. Many upgrades including higher vis. strobes, vortex generators, plenty of easy ADSB and flight deck screens *(iFly GPS) and more. Peach of a plane.
If the economy hits the skids? You won’t want big – read: illiquid – assets. You won’t need a financial albatross around. Big boats, twin-engine or faster planes, even an RV (unless you can dry camp it).
Aircraft insurance isn’t as cheap as it used to be (it wasn’t then, either). But fuel has taken a jump. Most we ever paid until we sold it just before 2020 was about $5-bucks a gallon. Alaska? You would expect to pay $10-bucks, but on the East Coast it averages over that now. But what’s interesting is the price of SAF. Short for Sustainable Aviation Fuel. Don’t start me on this..just go look. 100LL & Jet Fuel Prices at U.S. Airports & FBOs By Region | GlobalAir.com. $11 and whaatt???
The Fall We Miss? Oh Yeah…
Back when the map was ours to draw in circles, Elaine and I ran a transcon loop that stitched together friends, FBOs, and valleys with freeways in ’em you could follow like a lifeline. It wasn’t romanticized flying — no Richard Bach prose — just the way it was, and the way you knew it by smell, sound, and the people who came out to meet you with a chock in one hand and a smile in the other.
Bozeman (Bozo, KBZN) was a staple. Popcorn in the lobby, fruit on the counter, coffee always hot. You walked away with sticky pads printed with the airport logo and phone number — real pilot swag. Not because it was free, but because it was useful.
Missoula (KMSO) was a story unto itself. The line chief once walked up with a bar towel draped over his arm, announcing: “May I serve you a quart of our finest 30-weight Phillips XC this visit, Mr. Ure?” That little showmanship turned an ordinary fuel stop into a memory that stuck. And it kept us coming back, because Missoula never felt like just a waypoint. Great hotels, nice river, watching the trout fishermen while decompressing with a cold one at the bar…
Spokane (KGEG) carried more personal weight. Elaine’s half-sister’s late husband worked the line there — a professional jet chauffeur who had the kind of easy grace you only see in seasoned corporate pilots. We trusted that FBO; had brake work done there once. Maybe too much trust, in hindsight.
Because later that day we went non-stop Spokane to Tacoma Industrial (KTIW). Smooth flight, good approach, nothing unusual until touchdown. That’s when the freshly serviced brake grabbed hard – I had forgotten to do the “muscle memory” reset from a long-soft pedal — left main locked, aircraft yawed, and for a second I was looking at runway lights coming at us sideways. Training and luck met in the middle, and I kept her just shy of planting those lights with the wing. Rolled into the grass, recovered and – keeping speed up – I immediatelyh taxied back onto the concrete and clear.
The tower came on, voice calm but tight: “19-Lima, are you OK?”
I keyed the mic: “Brake work in Spokane this morning. Left main locked on touchdown. We’ll be clear in a minute…”
A half-beat, then: “19-Lima, nicely handled. Take your time.”
Deep breathing for a good three-minutes before continuing our taxi after off the active.
Mind you, that was NOT an “accident” but it was an adrenaline adjustment, for sure.
That was the fall we miss — when every leg had a story, every stop was more than fuel, and the people on the ground made you feel like you belonged there. You don’t need to be Richard Bach to say it: the flying was good, the company better, and the memories etched deeper than logbook ink.
Even now I notice the view over my shop/office door:
That was the original prop on the plane when we bought it. We didn’t know that you could wear out a prop but sure enough, one year it didn’t pass overhaul. So its replacement was (with labor) another $2.8 airplane (or boat) units.Another consideration while aging: There’s a balance in life: Buy all the fun you can, but without “over-flying the bank account”.
Oh, that picture over my office door? Somehow I had a peripheral hand in 1984, or so, when we (then at Cayman Airways) leased the Concorde and flew it into Owen Roberts International (GCM), That was (may still be?) a 6,000 ft. runway. the British Airways flight crew was expert – be a few minutes before I try a short-field landing in a supersonic dart. Photos were the landing sequence shot by a photographer Peter C-something (can’t remember his last name, dang it!) – a gift on my departure. (Thank you for…leaving?)
Those were back in the “high adventure” times of life. Sitting jump seat on a 737-100 flying into the one-way (no go-around) airport in Cusco, Peru. Which brings me to another point.
Only two places in all my flying adventures did I have a gun aimed at me by “authorities.” (Personal quirk, maybe? I always remember barrels, lighting, and calibers…maybe I’m just odd that way.) Once at Lima, Peru. Machine gun point in the men’s room. Border guard. An unopened pack (or two) of Tareyton 100’s seemed to solve that one. And once by a “special team” at Deming, New Mexico on a refueling stop. That was a Glock 17 (you tend to remember calibers and types of thing aimed close-in). No cigarette solution, but a check with flight-following (confirming we were not a pop-up drug plane) and a check of license, insurance, and flight medical and examination of logbook and we were on our way.
Selling the plane (like selling the sailboat, or the Yamaha Virago shaft-drive) were three events in life which stand as examples of “Doing the right thing, at the right time.” It’s OK to spit in the eye of Fate for a while – if you set things up, just so. But, comes a time when (as my once upon-a-time) airline boss used to say “When your number comes up, it comes up…”
I’ll be fixing a toilet today (slow refill, time to replace the valve). I promised myself I’d stop doing that somewhere past my 85th birthday. Don’t tell the kids, I did sneak up on the roof for an urgent problem this week. Not supposed to be doing that (or cutting down 60 foot trees, last week, either). They don’t read the columns, though. Which makes it like it never happened…
Enough hangar talk – someone has to do real work around here. Take the day and I figure to still be here tomorrow…Elaine has offered to beat shaman drums and add swear-word choruses for the toilet adventure… She could make a dockworker blush.
Ahead? D’Lynn summed up the growing pessimism in his Saturday post. Enjoy Life while you can. Stock for when you can’t Certainly the “ride will be over” when it is. Life’s a roller-coaster. Glance at the trackage ahead – and hold on accordingly.
Write when you get rich…
George@Ure.net
“D’Lynn summed up the growing pessimism in his Saturday post. Enjoy Life while you can.”
G.A. STEWART: I have writing about The Second American Civil War since I started this website in 2007. It is a very big part of Nostradamus’ World War III Series of prophecies.
The Charlie Kirk assassination opened my eyes to how sick the United States has become. I do not buy any of it. The social engineers are hard at work on trying to start a civil war.
https://theageofdesolation.com/nostradamus/2025/09/20/the-black-swan/
“War Games” was on TV last night. Watching is a moral imperative (perhaps also an immoral one, as I have had a lifelong crush on Ally Sheedy {BTW, the movie was released 10 days before her 21st birthday})
I always ask myself this question:
Why doesn’t Falken simply fly his helicopter into the NORAD compound?
(“Why doesn’t Falken simply fly his helicopter into the NORAD compound?”)
?????…. the ones I seen and the ones the wife delivered in the year before she went to nursing school.. were set up to receive semi trucks..in some places six trucks across would still leave plenty of room.. but underground runways…..I’m sure they made arrangements for this.. but did they.. the one by a friends farm set up as a communications bunker sold a couple years ago now….it had been totally restocked in 2010..when 5g came out they sold it..completely stocked..my friend said they were asking for a million complete with everything..the entrance the size of a small garage..
They shot a lot of War Games in Seattle and the surrounding area.
Concrete, Darrington. Bill Fraker directing. The gag of running into the NORAD mountain is me in the long shots. I was hired to be Matts photo double.
The final scene of the sunset and the ferry was me and a girl from Bellevue. Matt and Ally were back in the hotel, but it’s a great shot.
They were kids but a lot of fun and very open It was a two week shoot and it paid well for warm bodies.
And a few just ahed of me at Microperipheral in Redmond were on the technical edges of it too – spilker was one name that stuck..and a spencer at the u/w?
“May not have a ShopTalk Sunday tomorrow on the UrbanSurvival side – need to crush the new book – lots of writing to do and there are only so many hours in a day…”
We know you too well Mr. Ure.
Me? the hyperdrive kid?
One word for that condition Chief..Pakalolo
https://youtu.be/gr-QHGPjHNI?si=Pg0WE9F1t25TMRkM
Just be sURE to mind Ure garden G, as you know, a Waste is a Terrible Thing to Mind -https://youtu.be/IS1vBb4AAZQ?si=4FObWX54shAK002y
What you were expecting tiny bubbles ?
re: stone faced humour
feat: a Norman’s daytrip
BCP,
After bidding the US First Couple adieu, King Charles went to visit the world’s oldest person aged 116 years, Mrs. Ethel Caterham. The pair got along marvellously by all accounts. Mrs. C. is the last remaining subject of the King Edward VII era. She attributes her long life to “taking everything in my stride, the highs and the lows” according to BBC Radio.
Apparently Mrs. Caterham originally is from the Anglo-Saxon (“English Knife?) settlement of Shipton Bellinger (“Bellinger’s Sheep Farm”) near Stonehenge. The town’s pre-Norman conquest Manor lands having a stylized, upside-down “W” coat of arms allegedly received first mention during the reign of Edward the Elder (899-924). It remained in private hands until 1906 when it was sold to the War Office, and is understood to be currently part of the King’s Crown Estate.
re: Molting of America II
feat: #47 vs. the Olde Guarde
Folks,
Alleged illegitimately-born Mayor Charles Martel (“The Hammer”) ruled the Franks from his stronghold of Herstal (“Army resting place/camp”). He overthrew the Merovingian dynasty which had governed parts of Roman Gaul since 476 a.d. Also his victory at The Battle of Tours in 732 a.d. stopped a Muslim invasion of Europe. A grandson, Charlemagne, perhaps born in Herstal, founded the Holy Roman Empire extant from 800 until 1806.
Today Herstal near Liége, Belgium remains an armoury to empires and those who might wish rule of them. Belgium’s FN Herstal weapons factory production dates to 1889. As chance would have it, an alleged Herstal rifle product recently made its way into the hands of an assassin in the “Family City”, Ut. Anecdotal msm reports quote the FBI cautioning that the weapon will be untraceable. A person would guess that their vast resources will at least narrow down which empire’s allocation the rifle in question began its journey from.
One imagines thereafter the hammer will drop.
re: “Fall Tripping”
feat: Mount Shasta
Folks,
Welcome to the New Age. News of an Argentine AI ceo in the company of strangers tripping off Mount Shasta’s Wintun – glacier not vpn tunneling device – began reaching msm a week after the tragic event. Here’s a link to a “Daily Mail” report which arguably offers additional perspective compared with same event reports appearing in the “NY Post” and “SF Chronicle”.
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-15119561
Separate inquiry of public info suggests the Argentine AI firm paired with a UN group looking into covid-19 compliance via cellphone data. Last year the company was purchased by a popular Caribbean bank.
That is a great (and appropriate) nickname!
Happy International Day of Peace (United Nations).
But Never Forget! “God created men, Col. Colt made them equal.”
Trump & Musk made peace!!!
Curtis Mayfield & The Impressions – People Get Ready (1965)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdKEbnS1eBE
Peace with the East – NORK.
“”If the United States drops the absurd obsession with denuclearising us and accepts reality, and wants genuine peaceful coexistence, there is no reason for us not to sit down with the United States,” Kim was quoted as saying.”
Among my most memorable places is the airport at Mariposa County, CA (KMPI). In the summer of 1966, my first wife and I flew our ’59 Cessna 150 in there to meet my parents, who drove, and tour Yosemite. Since my folks were a little slow getting there, we had plenty of time to visit with the airport manager, a really nice lady who had an interesting tale. She told us she was probably the only woman in the USA to have qualified Expert with the Browning M2 machinegun. During WWII she was an armorer who fitted the guns in the wings of P-51s. After securing and loading the guns, she’d jack up the tail of the plane to a level flight attitude aligned with the target 500 yds away. Then she’d fire and adjust each gun so they all converged on the target, then adjust the sight to match. We left the plane there for a couple of days while we toured the park with my folks.
On the day we finished our tour, there was a severe thunderstorm, and I was extremely worried about the plane. It was tied down on the ramp ($5 per day), and I had visions of it being flipped upside down or destroyed by hail. Upon arrival at the airport, our plane was nowhere in sight. Panicked, I ran into the office and asked about it. The lady just smiled and told me she had seen the storm coming and had moved our plane into the hangar. Greatly relieved, I asked how much we owed for the hangar space. She laughed and said, “No extra charge. It was my idea to put the plane in there, not yours.” You meet the nicest folks at small airports!
Makes me wish I could find an affordable Luscombe or Cessna 120/140. There’s still some life left in these old bones, and I’d like to spend some of it off the ground.
Might wanna come on down Belize to realize Ure wish Senior Methane.
Just this past January, 2 narco’s stole a Cessna 208 Caravan, after tying up security guy all nice and tidy.
Unfortunately that particular Cessna was brand new and the thief’s did not have very good flight training skills, as they tried too sharp of a turn on the ascent out of Placencia Airport.
The day my Wife and I arrived last year, the wreckage was still very visible and smoking from night time escapades alongside the road that runs along the Placencia Lagoon. They put that sucker nose first into the brackish swampland bordering the Lagoon in that area. No survivors, and plane was obviously totaled. but the opportunity to swipe another is still present and awaiting an intrepid adventurer.
Weird habit of mine – but I am always looking for ways to Get In and ways to Get Out of every single place I go into. Never ever know when I might need to get going..pronto like.
Learning To FLY- PF, https://youtu.be/nVhNCTH8pDs?si=87fxnnf4s5asw59C
This was Henry Ford, Westinghouse and many others a hundred
years ago.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPzcfCdCPks
Wow! Memories!
I remember the Concorde that visited Oshosh in 1985, and I had my little experimental on the flight line up close and personal, so I got to hang with it while the Concorde was doing touch and go’s. I do have a propeller on a shelf but never found a reason to hang it up. That’s what happens when you have no visitors. It would make a great ceiling fan.
My only run-in with law enforcement at an airport was near Waco, Tx, where the local sheriff seemed to think I might be running something(?) illegal. He was eventually satisfied with paperwork and the comment that he could check with the tower at the airport I most recently departed. The weather was optimistically mVFR and I needed to get elsewhere.
I’d like to get back in the air, but I don’t want to deal with more bureaucracy than I need to. I’d like to find or build an ultralight that’s strong enough to deal with the winds here and has tundra tires. Ideally electric for the quiet and reliability, and of course, cheap with low maintenance required. IOW, a unicorn. With everything else going on in life, that’s likely to remain a dream. An LSA might work, but it still requires more involvement(annuals, BFR, etc) than I prefer.
“If the economy hits the skids? You won’t want big – read: illiquid – assets. You won’t need a financial albatross around. Big boats, twin-engine or faster planes, even an RV (unless you can dry camp it).”
What you do want is a place to live that is paid for, with a place you can work for a decent wage nearby for those still running with the earned income crowd, unless you can telecommute, which means you can set up shop most anywhere these days.
And a cash RV on a rural lot beats hell out of burning through savings on the way to the nearest tent city. Composting toilets reduce utility infrastructure requirements, but you want Ure name on the tax bill for the land and the RV, regardless. Property owners still have some rights, transients, not so much, and that situation is deteriorating.
Water is always the big issue, even close to town. Locally, most of the ground water has been developed; if you don’t already have it, it probably isn’t there. I’m dependent on the rural district, or surface water. Developing surface water for potable service for anything but emergency desert discipline scenarios is very expensive.
A SUV configured for stealth camping is a more practical travel vehicle than a behemoth RV, or the lightest of aircraft.
Small cash boats for fishing can be of value. No boat on time payment is of any use. I have re-upped the combo license the last two years for the first time in a long while. The senior license is too cheap not to have one. I actually wetted a hook this past summer.
You also want serviceable transport with new tires going into a downturn. I should be able to run my SUV for another 200K+ miles if I have to, but I plan to trade in two years if circumstance permits.
Modest essential assets, even if they are illiquid, are a part of maintaining a decent standard of living. Keeping the associated taxes to a minimum is a requirement.
It’s OK to have frivolous assets as long as they’re not too visible/ostentatious and are fully paid for, with no recurring taxes. Personally, I think a nondescript van is better for stealth camping and doubles as a work vehicle. A boat in the desert is the most frivolous of assets, but then again, nobody’s that good at predicting the future, and it worked out for Burning Man in 2002. Don’t buy with the intent to sell unless you enjoy selling – that’s often more work than the return is worth.
I have trees, cacti and fishing holes. I don’t have a boat, but a small fishing boat might have some utility.
Thanks, George, for more great stories. Thanks to Olfart, as well. I am not a fan of flying, but sometimes that is the way to go. I would rather drive.
George, I was wondering if you kept diaries that described your life stories. It might be valued by your children if they could read what all you have done and accomplished. Just a thought.
You have many wise people who comment on your site, George, those who have shared their advice and expertise. I thank them for that. With all that I have read recently regarding the polarization of our American population and the varied reasons for it, the future does not look bright.
It seems that the young and even some of the old have turned towards dark gods. These deluded people believe that their desires for hate and vengeance will be granted by following these dark lords, who promote violence and destruction of everything and everyone. I am talking about the dark gods of old who were worshipped before and during the Old Testament of the Bible. Men’s hearts are becoming cold as ice.
“She attributes her long life to “taking everything in my stride, the highs and the lows” according to BBC Radio.”
The Hi-fi hobby had unknown benefits!
I went to the Roswell National Championship Air Races with family a week ago and since it rained Saturday, I got free admission for Sunday. Here are a couple of links for those who enjoy flying:
T-6 WW2 fighter racing:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhKRMoa0nWQ
Jet racing:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4yZ4n6H1OA
Everything, including STOL drag racing:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KMIzuTlcBQ
Check out the beautiful aerial dance of the Foxjet motorglider at 7:23:00 on the above video!
There was also a military presence with T-38’s, F-16’s, and an AC-130 along with an MC-130, and of course, the CAF B-29 FiFi and a B-25, among other warbirds. I thought was a great restart of this event that was evicted from Reno and needed a new home! It’s also a much easier drive for me! Next year should be even better if the world as we know it is still here.
I grew up in Roswell, and it’s good to see something like this. When the county voter for Goldwater in 64, the Demo Senator killed Walker AFB and almost killed the town. When I joined the USN in 61, Roswell was the second – largest city in the state. When I returned in 65 it was a disaster, with no opportunity for me, so I moved on.
My computer’s been down for almost a week, and I’ve been suffering from Urban withdrawal. It’s good to be back among this fine group.
Glad you are back, Mr. Kimbrough.
George, the only time I had the opportunity to see the air show in Oshkosh, Wisconsin was when a friend from Illinois was going for his IFR rating in the late 1970’s and flew a few of us up there in a twin engine plane. That was really amazing, the trip up and the show.
I also knew a pilot in Illinois, Giles Henderson, who did air acrobatics in an Apache Piper Cub, I think it was. I would not go up with him, but he performed some remarkable stunts.
I always considered landing my “most remarkable stunt.”
My 20-year old flight instructor opined that “landing is just a controlled crash”, and “any landing you can walk away from is a good one”.
Once I almost made it to Oshkosh EAA air show, but wound up having to work that weekend. Friends from local fixed base operator at airport went in a rented Cessna 172. Upon departing Oshkosh at sundown to return home, they had a generator/electrical failure in the plane. Motor still running on magnetos, but no lights or radio. Not wanting to turn back into the crowded airspace with no comms, they continued west in the dark. Nobody brought a flashlight. Lighting an occasional match to check instruments to see if they were upright yet, they flew 100 miles to Central Wisconsin airport where they saw the beacon. Buzzed the tower to get a green light for landing, and were stuck there for the night. FBO sent a mechanic over the next day to fix the plane. Everyone didn’t make it to work that Monday morning… except me. Glad I was not on that flight.
It’s the dirt that is the trap. No escape. Floating is the best chance to remain truly free. Yes, there are limitations when approaching the dirt, but they can still be limited by choosing dirt with select and low population. Being Out There has the limit of food, but that can also be solved with modern ‘survival’ stuff, on board gardening, and fishing and foraging near shore. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it’s often less than comfortable, but reading of the dirt solutions laid out by N, there is no comparison. Because the sea is a totally emotionless world, a world that has no hate, no prejudice, and is vast enough to be a place where you are just an insignificant speck, and that you can steer away from the dangers connected to the dirt (staying off the normal beaten courses), you can watch the world do what it does without much stress. Think of Vito Dumas who sailed for almost the entirety of WW2, only once being confronted by a German sub in the South Atlantic, and they were simply amazed to see such a small thing floating out there that they just waved hello and went on their way. If you are far from the drug runners, the local pirates (Indo, Caribbean, East Africa, Mexico, Central America, China, Philippines) and stick to tiny islands, with lots of sea room, life can be quiet. For the moment, until there is the social societal breakdown life with dirt drives fear, not comfort. We live now with many afloat. Most are not really here. They have another life back on dirt and this is merely an extension of that. They generally speak about ‘home’ and the need to go back. Flying like there is no tomorrow. Easy. Just get in the plane. Living in two worlds.
To be at peace with the sea you need to have both feet in your boots, on your deck, and be 100% focused on every minute. Miss one hand hold, make a bad step, and …
wouldn’t trade that cautious consciousness for anything now. Sold the couch.
Stiks
I olnly lived aboard – under sail almost every weekend, rain or shine – and have salt water in my veins as well.
BUT I had to come to terms – when we decided to go off to Boca Raton to “do the senior software guy” thing (sales, algos, not coding) that “the hard” would have to be “our stand.” There were too many things even a moderate mobility would force us ashore anyway. Elaine’s two hipo replacements, for example. Commode on a boat? Er..ummm…Climbing over the Yanmar and four stepts further to the cockpict? No, that wouldn’t work either. One fall, single bad landing, and it would have been a lifesling to get ashore. Eventually I got too large3/heavy/old to go aloft for overhead work -= Elaine was half the weight and with our electwric winch, up she went…
I eny you the life, old salt. Been there at the perfect anchorage in winter with snow falling and deer come door to the beach at twilight…north of Vancouver, wild shows up sooner than later, too. But you’re right about dirt – people “claim” and fight over it. Which for a small parcel might make sense, but whole countries? Less soexcept…except…everyone’s crazy shore.
Prrisoner’s paradox. Oil stove, some solar, watermaker…yeah I haven’t forgotten. Eventually it comes down to cremation or crab food, I figure…ashes next to mom’s in the family dirt or shark poop. Not that it matters, but it’s still a decision…rum seems to help.
George
All perfectly stated. My life ain’t your life. My appeal is to bring awareness of the choice that waits at sea. Being 79 myself, I wish for more long passages but find the world is not all that friendly downwind now. A change of seasons and weather should allow a return to the present location with just a few weeks at sea. Well worth it because that adds another few weeks to life. I have found that the limitless horizon and the ever present changes are most soothing, much like Andy finds sitting and having a smoke and listening to the Dude. I think it was the Phoenicians that said that each day spent at sea was not deducted from your aalloted lifespan… or something to that effect.
I admire your every motivation and deeply appreciate all that you do for us, because I know you do it to serve, not take.
Aloha
Stiks
I know of quite a few small plane fatal crashes. One in rural Alaska where kids were playing on the runway as the plane attempted to land. The kids were spared but the pilot died. My daughter was teaching in the village school.
A local airport near Allentown was popular with small plane pilots. Two crashed into each other over a grocery store parking lot. I lived 2 blocks away. If I remember correctly only one child survived.
A good friend of mine had a small plane. He took 3 friends up one day and they all died. I heard that he ran into a flock of birds.
I don’t know of anyone in my social/family circle who has died in a car accident. It seems like the odds are not in your favor in a small plane.
The odds are definitely in your favor IF you account for current weather, forecast weather, non-forecast weather, icing, terrain, time of day, aircraft condition, aircraft suitability for the mission, sufficient time to have no deadlines, more than enough money and willingness to spend it, pilot condition, pilot competency and currency in type, instrument currency and competency, communication competency, runway conditions departing, arriving, and alternates, nav aids, airspace restrictions, other aircraft, and probably a few other things. The air, even more than the sea, is intolerant of laxity, neglect, or error.
That said, flying is fun.
I learned to fly back in the beanfields just a year before moving to Hawaii. Never a dull moment. I had an honest-to-God engine failure just six hours into my training. Got to within 50 ft. of landing in a soft bean field before getting a crippled engine back to half-life… enough to limp back to the airport… “IFR means ‘I Follow Roads’!” Intense awareness of everything required, and safety, safety, safety learning. The ‘lift’ pilot at a local skydiving outfit had a reputation for ‘thrilling’ his jumpers with a steep, ‘elevator-lift’ climb at takeoff. That worked until it didn’t. Stall spin stuffed him and nine innocent jumpers alongside the runway. The old hangar adage is true: “There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots. There are NO old, bold pilots!”
George, you and I had really great dads …
Was 19 Sept 2025 the global peak equity valuation … akin to 3 Sept 1929?
Time will tell ….
https://theeconomicfractalist.blogspot.com/
Maybe favored corporation congressional policy (and Fed accommodation) advantages will give composite equities one more peak in the 1982-2026 13/33 year :: x/2.5x fractal cycle … maybe not. The 2025 maintenance of the enormous peacetime 6+ % GDP deficit budget provides tax breaks to the billionaire class which will not stimulate the 99% creating basic US economic activity. Maybe another equity peak is not in the cards.
thanks for sharing that I love air shows and that was amazing..