September 2007 Feature Story:
Getting to Oshkosh

Story by Jim Howard

I’m back home, safe and sound, after flying our Cessna Cardinal from our home base in Austin, Texas, to EAA AirVenture 2007 in Oshkosh. It was a life goal achieved.

Although my lovely wife was unable to accompany me to Oshkosh, she did put together my camping gear. She pretty much thought of everything; all I had to do was load it. I loaded the plane Saturday afternoon for a Sunday morning departure. My plan was to arrive at OSH late Sunday, so as to be in place for the Monday opening of AirVenture.

I was obsessed with Texas weather in the week leading up to my departure. We had been having an incredible July, unprecedented in my lifetime. Almost every day in July, large bands of very slow moving thunderstorms wandered over the state. These are nothing like our normal summer thunderstorms. Normally our summer thunderstorms form into tight, well defined lines and roar across the state, northwest to southeast, at 10 to 30 knots, leaving clear air behind them.

Not this summer; this July had been a slow motion monsoon. Huge blobs of intense thunderstorms had parked over much of the state, moving very slowly, and in weird directions. In a normal July we get about two inches of rain in central Texas. This year we had well over 14.

All week, I couldn’t go 10 minutes without checking the weather. It became clear that my only chance to escape would be to attempt a dawn departure. The forecast was for IFR for most of Texas, with the thunderstorms starting by noon. I woke up at 4:30 a.m., unable to sleep. Checking the weather I found most of Texas to be clear, including Austin. Off to the airport!

My plan was to make two stops on the way. In theory my Cardinal can do the flight to Oshkosh with only one stop, but I’m just too big a chicken to try it. I like visiting new airports, and after three hours in the Cardinal seat I start to get a little stiff. I planned stops in Arkansas and Iowa.

As I approached the airport I called the ASOS. The airport was clear, but the dewpoint spread was only one degree. Austin’s airport (KAUS) sits right next to the Colorado River, and fogs in almost every morning. Sure enough, by the time I got through the gate, preflighted my plane, and pulled it out of the T-hangar, I could see the airport lights disappearing as the fog settled in. There was nothing to do but wait. Under FAA rules, as a private pilot, I have no takeoff minimums. I can take off into zero-zero visibility conditions. I’ve done one other morning takeoff into fog here and it worked out well. In that case only the area around the airport was fogged in; a mile away was clear. On that takeoff I broke out of the fog at about 100 feet. In this case I knew the low clouds covered a much larger area, so I wanted to have at least ILS minimums before I launched. The sun came up around 6 a.m., and I heard (but couldn’t see) airliners taking off. This meant that we had ILS minimums, since charter and airliners can’t take off on a truly fogged-in airport. A few more minutes and I could see ghostly airplane shapes taking off. Time to go!

After receiving my clearance I taxied out very slowly and carefully in haze. Cleared for takeoff, I started the takeoff roll. I concentrated on my scan, making a very gentle turn to my assigned heading. Less than a minute after takeoff I popped out of the undercast at 1300 feet. It was clear as a bell under about a 10,000-foot broken layer. I was in VMC all the way to Springdale, Arkansas; the flight was very uneventful after the takeoff.

I had spent a lot of time with the Airnav.com fuel planner, and had decided that I would stop in the Fayetteville, Arkansas, area. I elected to stop at the Springdale airport, based mostly on the fuel price and comments on Airnav. It was indeed a nice facility, complete with a cafe overlooking the ramp. I had a serviceable omelet which nicely fortified me for the rest of the trip. The FBO was nice, but had almost nothing in their flight planning room except a telephone.

My next leg was in entirely clear weather. I still filed IFR; I find it comforting that someone knows where I am and that I know where at least some of the other airplanes are. My next stop was Iowa City, Iowa (KIOW). This airport had many positive comments on Airnav and good fuel prices. KIOW is one of the many WWII triangle-shaped airports. The airport is down in kind of a “bowl”, with higher terrain all around it.

Shortly after I shut down a nice young fellow came out, told me the fuel price, and offered to let me use a crew car for lunch. I didn’t need lunch, but did appreciate a nice fully equipped flight planning room and friendly counter staff. The next leg was to be the big one, the one I’ve thought about for years: VFR past Madison and on to the Ripon/Fisk Arrival at Oshkosh!!

Taking off on KIOW runway 25 was a weird experience. As I mentioned, the airport is in a bowl. You roll down to the bottom of the bowl at first, and then up what looks like ski jump, pointed at buildings that seemed a few hundred feet higher than the departure end. Rotating at what seemed like 200 bgl (below ground level), I quickly retracted the landing gear on the Cardinal and pitched up for a maximum angle climbout. I breathed a sigh of relief as I cleared the bowl around the airport and climbed out on course.

I decided to practice the power settings for the arrival. They want you at 1800 feet, 90 knots, gear down at Ripon. I knew about what the setting was as I climbed to 1800' and lowered the gear. I noted the power setting I would need at Ripon. I retracted the gear again and headed direct to Ripon. Ripon and Fisk are in the FAA database, so they were in my KLN-89b GPS. I remember when navigation was hard.

I altered course a little to stay clear of Madison and began descending. I switched over to the Oshkosh arrival frequency. I was upset to hear a young-sounding pilot in a Tiger who was totally lost, didn’t seem to have the Notice to Airman (detailed instructions for the special Oshkosh procedures), and surely seemed like an accident waiting to happen. He was wandering aimlessly about Wisconsin as the Fisk controllers tried to help him find himself. They were trying to get him to put various fixes in his GPS, but clearly the guy had no clue how the GPS worked. With the exception of controllers, nobody is supposed to talk on the arrival frequency, but this numb-nut would not shut up. I was amazed at the patience of the controllers. In prior years I have visited Fisk on the ground. I can’t recommend this visit enough; the controllers there are the friendliest government employees you will ever see, and it’s the best airshow you can go to short of sneaking into the Oshkosh tower itself.

The way the arrival works is that you descend to 1800' (about 1000 feet above the ground) over the town of Ripon, and then follow railroad tracks to the little town of Fisk, where a group of FAA controllers are working out of a trailer, directing traffic into Oshkosh. With GPS it was simple to find Ripon. (Back in the old days it would have been a challenge to pick this town out from the dozens of identical nearby towns at such a low altitude.) As I arrived at Ripon I saw the railroad tracks, and a couple of other airplanes ahead of me. I fell into line, careful to maintain my airspeed and altitude. They were alternating airplanes between Runway 27 (which from Fisk is a straight-in approach that takes you to the runway right next to the camping area), and Runway 18R (a more complicated arrival that puts you over a mile from the camping area once you are on the ground).

As I approached Fisk I saw the strobe lights and the trailer where the controllers work. The airplane ahead of me got Runway 27. Come on; give me 27, I prayed to the strobes. “Cessna over Fisk, rock your wings!” I gave an aggressive fighter-like wing rock, and was rewarded with, “Good job, Cessna, runway 18 right, switch to tower, page 11 of the Notam”. Darn! Thank goodness I’d studied, and before long I could make out the airport with its swarm of airplanes. I think I followed the instructions pretty closely, and touched down near the desired “pink dot”.

I did it! flashed through my mind and I (prematurely) mentally patted myself on the back as I rolled down the runway heading for the next paved intersection. “CARDINAL! GET OFF THE RUNWAY NOW!” shouted the tower. I had forgotten that at Oshkosh you never linger on a runway. As soon as you’re under control on the ground you’re supposed to head off the side of the runway over to the grass infield. I had relaxed too soon. As I pulled off, one of the very dedicated EAA traffic wranglers with his orange paddles gave me the “stop” signal, and then pointed the other way on the taxiway. I realized that I was still pointed south, but the parking was way north, so I did a 180 on the taxiway. Thus began a long taxi to the “North 40” camping area. I was passed from one wrangler to the next down the taxiways and byways of this large airport.

I was finally waved into a row of airplanes immediately adjacent to the Hilton Hotel on the north edge of the airport. A volunteer directed me to a parking space. I did a quick check, and shut down. Immediately a pretty lady appeared at my door. “Welcome to Oshkosh! I have your paperwork here. Do you need tiedowns? Do you have any questions?” She had the registration paperwork, the fuel tickets, and a really friendly face. I truly appreciated the welcome; it was the perfect end to the day.

I was happy to have arrived safe, alive and without major screwups! The only thing left to do was to set up my tent, enjoy the sunset, and meet my neighbors.