Homeward bound 

The trip home is always a welcome time. No matter how desirable the destination we might be visiting, after a sufficient number of days away, home creeps into our thoughts with increasing frequency. Home is where comfort lives. The family. The dog. The house, imperfect as it may be, surrounds us with a sense of familiarity and warmth. 

Even thoughts of the lawn, unattended for more than two weeks, tugged at my heartstrings. Amazingly enough, the sandy patches where grass seems fated to never grow caught my imagination for a bit.  

These were the thoughts winding through my head as I strolled along a taxiway at Lakeland Linder International Airport (KLAL) in central Florida. My bright yellow Cessna 152 set a casual pace as it followed the tug it was shackled to. Outside the gates of SUN ‘n FUN lay the runways that would lead me home.

After nine days away attending the 2022 event, the idea of sleeping in my own bed, laying on my own couch, and spending a quiet evening with my poor, suffering wife of 32 years spoke to me in a louder, more insistent voice than it has in years.  

Unlike the majority of my fellow fliers, my home base is a scant 14 nautical miles from the pavement where I did my pre-flight inspection. There is no long cross-country for me. It’s a quick hop, skip, and a jump for me. Unless I decide to take a route that’s more scenic than direct.  

For this trip, scenic was the key. I was ready to go and the weather cooperated fully.  

High, gusty winds were a feature of SUN ‘n FUN this year. These presented a challenge to the lighter, less robust aircraft. It meant nothing to the US Air Force Thunderbirds or the US Navy FA/18 display aircraft. They aviate as a result of massive power and unimaginable volume. They gave every impression of being impervious to the elements.  

As I prepared for launch the weather was pristine. The sky was clear from horizon to horizon, with the yellow ball of Sol just cresting the horizon as I readied the airplane for flight. From 93 million miles away its radiant light quickly began to heat the Earth. As a result, water vapor lifted in streaming sheets from the dew-infested windshield and fuselage, creating an ethereal vision for me to ponder as I inspected this fastener and that one, the oil level, and the fuel quantity.  

The grounds of SUN ‘n FUN are normally quiet and peaceful before 7a.m. On this day they bore little resemblance to the festive atmosphere of only a day before. Most of the vendors were long gone, well on their way back home themselves. A smattering of aircraft remained, but nowhere near the number that graced the field just 24 hours before.  

The B-1 bomber sat idle not 100 feet from my little machine. It’s fierce gray form looking surprisingly sleek. Its massive engines gave me a bit of an inferiority complex. Yet, my powerplant was running, smooth as silk. The B-1 remained silent, hiding its potential under cowlings that would shudder under the power of those amazing turbines soon enough.  

Tired and sunbaked, I pressed the push-to-talk and made my first call of the day. “Lakeland Ground, Cessna 104UC is at SUN ‘n FUN, ready to taxi, northeast bound departure, with Hotel.”  

A voice that sounded as if it had been abused for more hours than it could handle replied, “104UC taxi at your own discretion to Runway 10R, P2, for departure.”  

As I advanced the throttle a bit, the Lycoming O-235 spun the prop with increased vigor. The airplane inched forward, slow but sure. In no rush to leave, I took my time, taxiing slowly past the military aircraft parked along the warbird ramp. The windshield glowed white as the sunlight increased in intensity, careening off the droplets of dew directly into my eyes.  

Straight out on Taxiway F, I made the left turn onto Poppa, choosing to do my run-up at the hold short line of Runway 10R, on P2. The air was nearly still. A Cessna departed the runway as I crawled to a stop. With no traffic behind me, I gave the engine a chance to warm its oil supply a bit before throttling up for the mag check. The sky shifted to a brilliant blue by the time I was ready to make my call to the tower. On my first attempt I made the mistake of calling them on ground frequency, accepting my polite rebuke from the ground controller with good humor. It was early morning after all. A boy can’t be expected to do everything right every time, can he? 

By the time I got the right frequency dialed in and made the call, a trio of Zenith aircraft had gathered a respectable distance behind me. These constituted the display aircraft flown in by the experimental aircraft manufacturer. Here they were, ready to launch behind me, in a tidy flight of three, then motor all the way to Mexico, Missouri.  

Now, that’s an honest to goodness cross-country flight.  

As my Cessna and I were climbing out, I leaned back hard and turned my head to peer out the rear window. My friend Sebastien Heintz was lifting off, his wingmen in trail, a majestic flight of three climbing into the sky behind me.  

I continued to climb to 2,500 MSL, heading northeast. Sebastien and his fellow fliers headed northwest. Our paths diverging as we flew. They had more than 800 nm to go. I had 14.  

It took me an hour and a half to cover those few miles. Because the morning was as gorgeous as it was, my friends were flying with me, albeit at an ever-increasing distance, and because I loved the view from my perch above the planet.  

Homeward bound, indeed. Tailwinds and blue skies, always.