Jellystorming

Brother Barbeau has been known to give a ride, or two.  I've heard him say many times he hates to see the front seat of the Hatz go unused.  I understand his reasoning.  It's a pretty cool place to be---especially for first time fliers.  Even old hands climb out of the front cockpit with giant grins on their faces!  I call it the Biplane Effect---residue left over after viewing the world from an open cockpit, framed by wings and struts. It never gets old. One ride in the Hatz and you understand why the early aviators were reluctant to transition to cabin class airplanes. To fly was to be one with the elements, to be able to reach out and touch the clouds.  Of course one flight when the temperature is below forty-five degrees, or so, and you understand why they eventually made the change.  It can get chilly!

Spring and Fall are the optimum seasons for Jellystorming in the Carolinas. Temperatures usually run in the 60's and 70's in the mornings and evenings when the density altitude is (relatively) low, and the air is smooth.  Whereas the Luscombe is a clean machine, and performs fairly well in the summer months; the 100 hp Hatz, with it's extra set of wings and associated drag producing appendages, does not---especially in the afternoon.  Not many Hatz rides are given during the dog days of summer.  But there are exceptions.

A few weeks ago we caught a break when cooler temperatures invaded the Carolinas.  The Chamber of Commerce weather system happened to coincide with the return of my daughter, Holly, from California---where she and a friend, James, were employed for the summer as high adventure camp counselors for an outfit that specializes in youth programs for adolescent children diagnosed with ADHD and learning disabilities.  The organization is called SOAR, and is based here in North Carolina.  James lives in the United Kingdom.  Somewhere along the way, either while hiking and camping in the mountains above Ventura, California, or sea kayaking in the Chanel Islands National Park, or rock climbing and horseback riding in Morro Bay, California, Holly mentioned to James that her father would be happy to take him flying in an open cockpit biplane before he returned to the UK.  My adventurous daughter knows me well. . .

Thus it came to pass, on an unusually cool morning in August, young James Guffogg (all 6'4" of him) climbed into the front cockpit of a red and ivory Hatz biplane, and went Jellystorming back in time---back to the golden age of aviation.  And while it was not 1929, and there were no clouds to touch, it was every bit as exciting---and satisfying, especially for me.  When James said: "That was awesome," as we were touching down, I knew he was not speaking about just the landing---even though it was a nice one.  He was talking about the whole package:  The clear blue sky and crisp morning sunlight; the wind in the hair; the roar of the mighty Continental O200 engine; the spectacular view from one thousand feet above the York County countryside; and of course, that awesome landing!  I'm not sure who had the better time, James, or me!