A Flight of Passage: The ultimate father and son adventure

By NATHAN JAMES FINNEMAN

I bought a vintage open cockpit airplane from an owner in the middle of nowhere. I had to fly this airplane 900 nm from Arkansas to Colorado in some of the most ruthless weather conditions known to man.

Some factors to consider: This plane, a Powell P-70 Acey Deucy, cruises at 75 knots and sports 1930’s technology. No heater, no fancy gizmos. It is an open cockpit, stick and rudder true pilot skilled aircraft. It has never been taken on a cross-country flight ever of this magnitude.

So why did I buy this and want to take on such a risky endeavor when the odds were against us?

It’s simply this: We’re living in a time where safety is the goal of everything, but it is also a time where the sense of true adventure is dying.

It was my calling to bring this plane home. It was going to be the ultimate father and son adventure.

So a little backstory: My name is Nathan James. I’m 35 and aviation has been in my blood since childhood.

My parents, Darrell and ReNee, are who I have to thank for instilling the aviation bug in my soul. Flying was an integral part of their lives even before I showed up. My dad took my mother on a date in 1971 in a Cessna 152. She was 17, he was 18. They got married soon after and are still happily married to this day.

They took me to air shows at age 5, then took me flying at age 9 in a Stearman biplane and, well, the rest is history.

I flew air shows professionally for four years and represented Team USA in the FAI World Paramotor Championships in Egypt. I’ve flown countless different aircraft types and traveled all around the world doing various flying adventures. I chronicle these adventures as Sir Drifto on YouTube, Facebook, and Instagram.

Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong era as I yearn to experience what aviators experienced in the 1920s and 1930s.

Why This Airplane?

I actually wasn’t even looking for an airplane. Go figure! I was browsing the aviation classifieds when this particular plane caught my eye. Maybe it was the vintage aesthetic, maybe it was the open cockpit vibe, but whatever it was, it led me to reach out to the seller.

Three weeks later my father and I were on a commercial flight to the middle of nowhere Arkansas. I signed some paperwork, paid the seller, and I was the proud new owner of this beautiful open cockpit P-70, now affectionately known as “Otto’s Ace,” after my dog.

Excited was an understatement, however there was also a large wave of nervousness.

We had nearly 900 nm to fly home in this plane. Its cruise speed is less than the average interstate speed in a Honda CRV. Its range is limited, which meant stops at countless airports to refuel. It was open cockpit, so being in the elements was guaranteed.

To add the cherry on top of the sundae, we were flying a route that has some of the most unforgiving weather and wind conditions known to man.

So yes, I was concerned about what was ahead of us. It was unknown, and the probability of us bringing this plane home in one piece was 50/50.

I, however, like a good challenge that pushes you beyond your comfort zone.

Additionally, there was a book I read when I was young that inspired the dream of such a journey. “Flight of Passage” by Rinker Buck is about two boys flying across the United States in a 100-hp Piper Cub in the 1960s. It was the true definition of adventure. That book stuck with me even into my adulthood.

I determined this was my personal “flight of passage.”

The Journey Begins

After our first attempt to bring the plane home was shut down due to horrendously cold temperatures, my father and I attempted a second time. The weather looked great and I was itching to bring this plane home.

We departed Billy Free Municipal Airport (0M0) in Dumas, Arkansas, with our first stop planned for Memorial Field Airport (KHOT) in Hot Springs, Arkansas.

It was quite amusing looking at my father’s suitcase strapped to the wing strut. The plane has no storage compartments, except a small cubby behind me. The pilot flies from the rear, not the front, similar to a Stearman, mostly for weight balancing.

The views were gorgeous and the sea level performance of the airplane was also enjoyable. The temps were magnificent: Hot on the ground and when you climb up a few thousand feet, it’s like the air conditioning was turned on.

Did I mention our fuel gauge failed? I legally have to have a working fuel gauge, except the earliest I could get a replacement unit was three days, and it was still unknown if it would fix the issue.

Since the plane is experimental, I made my own fuel gauge using an old cork float from a junked airplane and some welding rod, drilling a hole into the fuel cap. It’s just like what the old Piper Cubs used for a fuel gauge. When the fuel is consumed, the rod lowers with the fuel, so it gave me a great idea of how much I had in my fuel tank.

Our next stop was Robert S. Kerr Airport (KRKR) in Poteau, Oklahoma. We had two mountain ranges to cross, and frankly I was a bit concerned as there were hardly any engine-out landing options when crossing these mountains.

After crossing both successfully, we landed in Poteau to refuel. The temps were warming up — it was 95° in Poteau and climbing. We refueled, and I nearly took off without my oil cap — thanks to the airport manager for waving me down.

Sometimes as pilots we get too many processes going on in our minds and forget the small things. The oil cap was a small thing that could have turned out to be a big thing.

After double checking the pre-flight, we departed KRKR and our next stop was Okmulgee Regional Airport (KOKM). The winds were picking up to 20 knots, but still manageable.

We crossed massive river valleys that looked like they went on for hundreds of miles. The views were really spectacular from our altitude. The plane was flying like an absolute champ. The motor was just singing like a sewing machine in perfect harmony. We were making pretty good time considering our cruise speed.

When we landed at KOKM, an old World War II base, it was unbearably hot, with the temperatures topping 103°.

As we were cooling off in the FBO, I considered how the hot temperatures would hurt the aircraft’s performance and its ability to climb. But the Ace performed like a champ and we were on to our last stop of the day, which would also prove to be one of the windiest stops so far: Oklahoma’s Ponca City-Waverly Regional Airport (KPNC).

When we were about 45 minutes out, I called for an updated weather report: 23 knots gusting to 26 about 60° off the runway.

This was not good news. I only had a few hours flying this plane, and I had yet to deal with high winds in it.

As we approached KPNC, the strong winds were very apparent with the windsock nearly straight out. High winds, gusty conditions with crosswinds, and a little open cockpit airplane with a lot of wing surface area is a recipe to bite a pilot if not approached carefully.

We are taught as pilots to handle situations such as this, but even with all the training, it was still nerve-racking. Thankfully, after a skillful dance with the stick and rudder, I managed to get the plane down with no issues.

I was exhausted mentally and physically. After securing the plane, my father and I had a much needed margarita — probably the best margarita I’ve ever had.

Worsening Winds

As we woke up on Day Three of our journey, I knew the winds were only going to get worse from here on out as we were flying in the windiest region in the country, evident by the many windmills we flew over.

But as I flew, I really enjoyed just looking around and experiencing this adventure with my father. It’s moments like this that forever stay in your soul.

As we approached Anthony Municipal Airport (KANY) in Kansas, the winds were strong, but not terrible. I ended up landing on the grass strip crossing the runway as it was more favorable.

We refueled the plane, then took off for Pratt Regional Airport (KPTT) in Kansas.

The winds were really picking up and we knew the weather was going to change for the worse. A storm was predicted to arrive at our final destination for the day and I knew if we didn’t get there in a timely matter we were going to be in trouble.

Little did I know this would be one of the hairiest landing conditions I would ever experience in this plane.

With the cumulous clouds developing in the distance, my father’s demeanor was changing, which was obvious from his body language.

Our alternate options were not looking good either, so we had to commit to our current destination.

When we were 30 minutes from our final destination, I checked the weather again.

My heart sank: It was showing winds 33 knots, gusting to 36 knots. For this plane, that could prove deadly if not handled right. But we were out of options: The weather was moving in as massive rain cloud formations were already developing around us.

When I was on final approach for KPTT, the horrendous winds were more than apparent with the wheat fields being blown nearly sideways. The plane was all over the place. I was doing everything I could to keep it straight.

Airspeed was my friend, but even that didn’t seem to be enough for this wind we were facing. I told my father, “buckle up, this one is going to get hairy.”

When I made my first approach to the runway, the plane was bucking around so badly, I went full throttle and went around. On my second attempt, I decided to try the grass taxiway to the left of the runway. It was prairie dog free, and there were no obstructions in my line of sight. I was very concerned about the wind causing me to ground loop, so on the second attempt to land, I inched the plane over to the grass as it is more forgiving.

The wind was bucking us around something terrible. It seemed every control input I did, the wind fought back with more force. I eased back on the power, did a wing low method, and the tires touched the grass. I cut the power, eased back on the stick, and got that plane stopped as quick as I could. It felt like an enormous amount of weight was taken off my shoulders.

Taxiing to the FBO, and hitting that engine cut off switch, I took the deepest breathe of air. I was done flying for the day and boy was I glad. The airport manager was nice enough to let us put the plane in the hangar before the storm hit. Once again, another margarita was well earned.

While we were relieved to be on the ground, we were also concerned what lay ahead of us. We were just at one of many stops in Kansas, and the wind and weather forecast was not looking any better.

Even with that concern, we took some time to explore Pratt, Kansas, and found out it used to be a B-29 training base in World War II. We even caught “Top Gun: Maverick” at the town’s old movie theater for $5.

The next morning as we were taxiing out to the runway, the plane was bucking something terrible from the wind. That windsock was straight out, and not dropping anytime. We took off and headed north for the first stop of Day 4: Dodge City Regional Airport (KDDC) in Kansas.

The temperatures had dropped dramatically from the horrendous heat of Arkansas and Oklahoma. That was refreshing. The scenery had also changed from rolling green hills and rivers to endless wheat and corn fields. It was fun flying low across the wheat fields. It felt like we had the whole state to ourselves. We had not seen another airplane flying for two days.

The airplane was still running like an absolute dream — if there was one thing I was thankful for was how reliable this airplane had proven to be.

As we approached KDDC the winds were strong, but frankly anything was a walk in the park after what we had experienced flying into Pratt. We landed, refueled, stretched our legs, munched on some stale granola bars and departed for Scott City Airport (KTQK).

Landing at KTQK was easy, and the winds behaved for us, but we had another issue. We were low on fuel, but the airport refueling station was broken. After calling about five different people, the manager came by and jerry rigged the fuel pump to work for us. We gave him some cash, and got out of there, before something else happened — although I will say the snacks for pilots at the FBO at Scott City were phenomenal.

We were en route for our final destination for the day, Goodland, Kansas, which is known for wind. Checking the winds, it was no shock: 26 knots gusting to 30.

Most general aviation aircraft would not be flying in wind conditions like these — it’s just too strong and can be dangerous.

Unfortunately we had no choice. We could sit and wait it out, but being Kansas, that could mean days before it ever lets up, and that’s one big “if.”

En route, I dropped the plane down low, buzzing the wheat fields. It’s a feeling that never gets old. You feel like a bird or an old barnstormer and it’s hard not to smile.

Somehow my father located a farm he use to work on back in the 1970s. We buzzed the farm and circled around it a few times. You could definitely tell he was feeling nostalgic seeing that old farm.

As we approached Goodland, I did another wind check, and it was still blowing terrible. Good news is they had an old grass strip that was in my favor for the winds. While the winds fought me, I got the wheels down successfully.

As we taxied over and tied up the plane, the sun had just set. The old rotating tower beacon was a beautiful sight. A comfortable bed sounded great that night as rest was needed. Tomorrow would be our final day of this amazing journey.

The next morning when my father and I arrived at the airport we walked the entire runway, and the winds were just terrible. It was gusting 30 knots and it just seemed like a dangerous choice to take off, so we waited a few hours in the pilot lounge.

It was fun just hanging out with my father and spending quality time. Frankly I was in no hurry to be home.

We finally made the call that the winds were not going to get any better, but actually predicted to get worse by day’s end.

We asked some of the airport employees if they would help hold the wings down as we taxied to the runway. I’m pretty sure they thought we were crazy for trying to fly in these winds, let alone in this plane.

It was a good thing we had them hold on, as the plane was bucking pretty bad. As I got centered up onto the runway, I gave them a nod to let go and I mashed the throttle to full power. We were off the ground in no time. I hit the smoke system and waved thank you.

Our first stop of the day was Colorado Plains Regional Airport (KAKO) in Akron, Colorado. I was frankly glad to be getting out of Kansas and its dang wind!

As we were fighting some pretty strong headwinds, I kept watching that fuel rod drop lower and lower. I told my father I think it’s safer if we refueled at a closer airport, so we landed at Yuma Municipal Airport (2V6) in Colorado.

As we were landing a pilot on the radio asked “what kind of plane is that? It looks like it’s from the 1920s!”

I had to laugh — if he only knew the weather conditions we had dealt with the last few days.

When we taxied over to the fuel station, we discovered the fuel pump didn’t work. I was frustrated as we were pretty low on gas, but we were out of options.

I double checked my fuel and did some calculating with the winds. I triple checked it, and decided we could make it to Akron.

The turbulence to Akron was pretty bad. My father and I were bouncing around pretty good and landing there wasn’t any better. I had a pretty strong crosswind, and I just about lost all my rudder control coming in for a landing.

Good news though: The fuel station here worked, because if it didn’t I’m not sure what we would have done.

The final leg

We departed for our final destination of the journey, Rocky Mountain Metro Airport (KBJC), just outside Denver.

This last flight was emotional for my father and I. Maybe it was the bittersweet moment that this was the last leg of our trip. Part of us just didn’t want this adventure to end. It truly was one of those trips that makes your spirit for adventure come alive.

As the sun was setting, and we were on our final few miles before landing, I told my father “I wish we weren’t landing, I wish this trip wasn’t over.”

I thanked him for joining me on this amazing journey and being my co-pilot.

But we had friends and family waiting for us, so I made the call into the tower requesting a landing.

I had to laugh, as coming in for landing, I was blinded by the sun so badly I just about didn’t line up for the runway correctly. Wouldn’t that have been a story — the last landing of the trip and I mess up!

Our tires chirped as they touched the runway surface. I taxied to the main FBO and our family was waiting for us, including my dog Otto.

I hit the engine kill switch, and then it hit me: We had not only survived this journey, but this plane had taken us all the way home without a single issue. I stepped out of the plane, to be tackled by my dog Otto, then hugged my girlfriend, Stevie, my mother, and father.

I finished this trip off by popping open a bottle of champagne, and giving my father a hug. Our Flight of Passage had been completed successfully and had concluded.

Don’t ever let the adventure in your soul fade.