Airventure 2024 | Day 8

July 24 | Is it already Wednesday? Is it only Wednesday?

Time is another dimension entirely at Oshkosh, when there is so much to do in such a short time. It seems like weeks or months have passed since I flew out of Sonoma Skypark for the first leg of my two-day flight to Brodhead. The time creeps slowly when I am flying four-hour legs of an eight-hour day. I monitor the engine, listen for Air Traffic Control to call my N-number and give me new directions, and continuously look for flat places to land in case of an emergency. Very exhausting.

Once at Brodhead or Oshkosh, time distorts even more. I make lists of errands and things I want to see and do, then start through the list, adding more items as I go. I look at my watch one moment, and very little time has passed. I look again and I’ve been walking and moving for hours. It will take some time when I return home re-acclimating to a normal schedule.

While I sit under the wing of my airplane, typing this blog (what does blog mean, anyway?), the airshow continues on. Right now, there is a big Stearman biplane, slowly looping and rolling, trailing smoke behind him. At other times, an Air Force F-22 or F-35 comes screaming by in full afterburner, deafening everyone on the ground with a painfully high noise level. I guess the kids love the noise, but I prefer the grace and elegance of the Stearman.

Travelling through the grounds on my errands, I have plentiful time to sit while riding the trams and observe the people around me. I see older people, barely able to walk, painfully climbing on and off the tram. I see people of all ages in wheelchairs, and wonder to myself do they fly with accommodations, or just dream of flying.

Young families, pushing strollers, young children running excitedly back and forth in front of the. After the rainstorm yesterday, there are puddles, some fairly substantial, throughout the field. I wasn’t quick enough to pull out my phone while rolling by on a tram to catch three youngsters, probably ages three through five, delightedly stomping and splashing in a puddle along the road as they and their parents walked from one exhibition to the next.

People of means who may be flying an aircraft that would cost a working person twenty years of their wages walk around looking at a new airplane costing perhaps a few million dollars or more. Then I see those working persons of modest means walking by who will find a way to fly by whatever means they can. Perhaps they find a derelict classic and painstakingly restore it. Maybe they buy a set of plans and work on building their dream over ten or twenty years. Maybe they team up with a partner or form a flying club to share the considerable expense of flying.

They are all here sharing the same dreams and passions that have bedeviled mankind since the dawn of history; to fly like the birds and explore the part of our world that has only recently come within our reach. When I am finally back home, my beloved dogs Tillie and Odie will be ecstatic to see me, as I will be to see them. I don’t think they’ve ever dreamed of flying. Chasing squirrels, maybe.

Tonight was the first night airshow of the week, with the second happening Saturday evening. I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping, so I set my chair in front of the 182 and watched as the sun set and the western skied darkened with a beautiful orange and red glow against the thinning clouds.

A night airshow is an interesting experience, almost like a half-wakening dream. You don’t see the actual airplanes, just whatever light they leave across the darkness. When the last light is gone, the airshow performers take off and start their varied routines. One was the twin Beech, with multi-colored lights blinking all around the fuselage, looping and rolling back and forth across the night sky. Another sounded like a jet powered sailplane, with a stream of sparks trailing from the wingtips and tail, spewing fiery colored balls from the center of the fuselage and flying in wide, sweeping arcs away from the path of flight. A formation of World War II T-6 advanced trainers flew seemingly impossible formation aerobatics in the darkness, with loops and rolls from one end of the runway to another. Topping off the evening was a spectacular traditional fireworks display centered on the runway.

I had finally gotten sleepy enough that I got myself ready for bed and got into my sleeping bag, but left the door screen down so I could watch the last of the fireworks before finally putting in my earplugs and drifting off to sleep.