A return to cross-country flying

On a perfect October flying day I made a 1,186-mile trip from coastal South Carolina to Boerne Stage Airport (5C1) on the outskirts of San Antonio, Texas.

The flight in my Cessna 180, with fuel stops in Georgia, Mississippi, and East Texas, marked the first long-distance flying I had done since COVID-19 restrictions began.

Liftoff was just after daybreak from Marion County Airport (KMAO) in South Carolina. Predicted weather was severe clear all the way with light headwinds at my 6,500-foot cruising altitude.

During nine hours aloft across six states I confirmed the expected: My cross-country skills had deteriorated. But I was also reminded how much I love flying — and of my continuing desire to improve at it.

My plane is relatively new to me. In 2018, after two decades of flying a tailwheel Skyhawk, I bought N2263C, a 1953 Cessna  Skywagon. I upgraded the avionics a year later, adding a Garmin GFC 500 autopilot, two Garmin GI 275 multifunction instruments, and a GNX 375 IFR GPS providing full ADS-B.

And the flight to Boerne, home of the Texas Skyways engine shop, marked the second stage in the plane’s restoration. A robust Continental O-520-U-TS engine is replacing Six-Three Charlie’s faithful but tired original O-470A Continental.

The 257-mile first leg crossed South Carolina and reached well into Georgia. I hand flew most of the leg and a look at the curvy track on my ForeFlight screen showed I had flown neither straight nor level for most of the cruise portion.

I should add I had flight following the entire trip with a series of great controllers and an uninterrupted, good view of the traffic around me using the yoke-mounted iPad connected via Bluetooth to the GNX 375 GPS.

At Lee Gilmer Memorial Airport (KGVL) in Georgia, I announced my planned entry on a right downwind for Runway 29. For more than a year I had been landing mostly at Marion, which has right hand traffic only, but Lee Gilmer has standard traffic on both runways. A local pilot quickly informed me on the radio of my mistake and, properly chastened, I crossed over the runway at 1,500 feet above midfield and entered on a left downwind.

A minute later, a pilot already on a five-mile final encouraged me to expedite my landing. To accommodate him, I literally sped down final. Predictably, I floated at least 200 feet, then firmly touched and bounced twice before re-landing aided by a bit of power. I headed for the gas pumps, aware of the flying rust falling off me in thick flakes.

And then 30 minutes later, after fueling the plane and gnashing a packet of almonds for lunch, I set a course for Starkville, Mississippi, 294 miles west.

This time I pushed the right buttons and turned the proper dials on the autopilot for a climb to 6,500 feet. I set the power at 52% and leaned to 10 gallons per hour using the new JPI 830 engine analyzer. That gave me an average cruise of about 140 mph over the ground. I tried to focus during this leg on a better instrument scan using the standard and digital instruments on my redone panel.

The arrival at George M Bryan Airport (KSTF) in Starksville two hours and 47 minutes later was better than Gainesville with only a single bounce, then a slight but uncomfortable swerve to the right from a 10-mph gust that came out of nowhere. More rust on my piloting skills. I should have listened more closely to the AWOS and also held more rudder in the rollout.

Starkville to Lufkin was the longest leg at 377 miles. The verdant flatland patchwork of the Mississippi Delta was a fitting prologue to the first sighting of the great river, probably 50 miles distant. I eventually crossed a mile-wide section of the waterway at a sweeping bend between Valley Park, Mississippi, and Sondheimer, Louisiana.   

On this leg ForeFlight indicated more favorable headwinds at 8,500 feet, so I climbed up and added another five miles an hour to my average speed. However, within minutes of making the 2,000-foot climb, I experienced a slight shortness of breath. I took slow, deep breaths until things seemed normal again, much like my Alpine skiing routine. However, I will bring supplemental oxygen on the return trip.

I landed at Angelina County Airport (KLFK) in Lufkin without incident at 3:56 Central Time. The leg was 3 hours and 17 minutes.

At 4:15, after fueling and some more almonds, I pushed the starter button. Nothing happened. The battery or some part of the electrical system had failed.

This occurred once before a month earlier but the engine fired up after a 30-minute pause. But on this day I had no time to wait. Sunset in Boerne was 7:01 p.m. and my minimums include never arriving after dark at an unfamiliar airport.

Because of the earlier incident I packed a second battery. However, to make the change I had to remove everything behind the front seats to get to the rear battery box. I had taken out the rear seat for this flight and the entire five-foot area to the upholstered divider panel in back was stacked with gear. I quickly offloaded everything and replaced the battery. A hurried repack followed, then a somewhat tentative push on the starter switch. This time the engine fired immediately. 

On the 257-mile leg from Lufkin to Boerne at 6,500 feet I leaned out 50° rich of peak with 23 inches manifold pressure and 2,400 rpm. Fuel consumption was 13 gallons an hour as the average groundspeed began to exceed 150 mph.

West of Austin airspace I began a slow descent without decreasing power and pushed my speed to 160-plus. The one hour 54-minute run into Boerne was complete at 6:44, 17 minutes before sunset.

At Boerne Stage I identified the shadowy outline of the field by comparing the windscreen view with the 3-D image on ForeFlight. I entered the pattern on left downwind with a measure of confidence that had been lacking during the first half of the trip. Left base was over Interstate 10 and short final ended with a good Skywagon landing.

For me that is a slow arrival with the stall warning blaring the last few seconds through a straight ahead, centerline touchdown without a bounce.

Five minutes later I shut down near the Texas Skyways office and secured my plane in an adjacent hangar as prearranged. The next day I returned to meet the Skyways team and look at my new engine.

My experience on the return trip to Charlotte two days later provided a fine advertisement for the freedom of general aviation. 

At San Antonio International Airport (KSAT) the TSA security people instructed me to take off my shoes and belt, empty my pockets, spread my feet, and hold up my arms while an electronic security device looked me over.

I was informed that my tube of hand cream was considered too large a quantity of liquid and that it was being confiscated.

Once in my seat on the Boeing 737, I couldn’t detect the extra legroom I had paid for. My knees bumped the seat as soon as the fellow in front of me reclined his seat. The flight attendant came by only once and doled out a packet of two sugar cookies and a cup of water.

Back in Charlotte, I swore never to fly commercial again.

But it was a false oath since the same airline ferried me back to pick up my plane about a month later.