AirVenture | Day 12

The Wednesday report will be a bit of Tuesday in addition to Wednesday. We had some inclement weather both nights. Tuesday it rained. Wednesday was Wagnerian opera.

There I was, sleeping soundly early Tuesday morning when the public address system came on at 1:30 am with the announcement that a storm was approaching. The National Weather Service had forecast thunderstorms with wind speed of up to 60 to knots. The PA then went on to tell us to prepare as well as we as possibly could. Did they think we should batten the hatches and start praying?

The only thing that worried me was that I had just bought this pristine 182 from Sam McIntosh, and here I was about to bring it back to Sonoma all battered and dented by hail. The PA had mentioned hail, which makes an aluminum airplane owner’s blood run cold. Very expensive to repair.

The PA came alive again about 4:00 am with another announcement of impending doom, although it essentially was the same message. I said another little prayer to the storm gods, turned over and went back to sleep. All that walking at Oshkosh does wear a fellow out.

We had a little rain and the tent did shake, but nothing too catastrophic. I noticed a little water around the legs of my cot in the morning, soaked them up with paper towels and headed off to the Tall Pines Café for another excellent breakfast.

We had another forecast of thunderstorms and hail later that morning while I was out working on the flight line at Point Kilo. The operations shack had plexiglass windows in wooden frames that we swiveled up to keep out the most of the water. It never did hail, and by the afternoon Oshkosh and AirVenture was back to its usual warm, humid self.

Wednesday, however, was another story entirely. The National Weather Service forecast severe thunderstorms for that evening, with winds of up to 90 knots and a plague of frogs.

The effect was electrifying. Tents were torn down, tie downs ripped from the earth, and an exodus began that made rats deserting a sinking ship look like a Sunday stroll down the avenue.

The thought occurred to me that perhaps I was being too judgmental about all those pilots trying to save their airplanes. I was working the flight line again, and we were helping pilots safely start their airplanes and taxi out on the long journey to the runway. A nagging thought started in the back of my mind that I might be too optimistic about my airplane’s chances for survival, but by that time it was too late for me to join the evacuation.

I went into the campground store to use their Internet connection to write and send my Monday blog to Gretchen to put up on the website. I finished up a little before 7 pm and hopped on the tram to go down to the Hangar Café for a chicken stir fry that looked pretty good. I got to the café only to find the big folding door down and the place locked tight.

I began to get a little anxious.

I decided that I would just ride the tram back to the campground store and get a sandwich. It’s about a ten-minute ride between the campground and the cafe in the middle of the vintage area. I got back to the store only to find it locked up tight with the lights off. The anxiety level creeped up to worry, stage one.

I got back to camp and checked the tie downs, then started putting everything into the airplane. I considered what I would need to survive the night, and decided that my sandals would go into the tent, my leather shoes into the airplane, my phone and flashlight into the tent, all the other electronics into the plane, and so on. I knew that if I didn’t want it wet in the morning, it would go into the plane.

Helen and Lucy, with the 172 next to me, were doing the same. Helen told me that she had a friend in Appleton who was picking them up to stay at her house. I just saw Lucy today here in the store, also working with her computer and using the WIFI, and she told me that they sat on the back porch, drinking a beer, and watching the lightning and darkening clouds.

I had showered and tucked myself in inside the tent. Everything was as secure as I could make it. The PA was broadcasting the worsening outlook as the clouds to the northwest flashed with hidden lighting. The reference to Wagnerian opera was inspired by the frightening majesty of the display, with an occasional bolt of lightning striking the earth as if it was a flaming lance thrown by a Norse god. The flashes were lighting up the 182 like a strobe light at a disco.

I was watching out the back screen of my tent when the wind came up as the storm front rolled toward us. I felt a drop of water on my back, then another, then a mist of droplets as the wind and rain began lashing the tent.

I discovered the hard way that my tent is fine for a normal rainstorm, but is no match for a severe thunderstorm. As the wind and rain grew more violent, I held the top of the tent by the little lanyard I usually use to suspend a flashlight from the center of the top to keep it from flying off into the night. I didn’t want to visit Kansas just yet.

Water began running down my arm from the rain being driven through the fabric by the wind. The tent bucked and leaned through two squalls as the storm swept through the airport and surrounding area. I unzipped the door occasionally to look out to make sure the tie downs were holding. The storm front lasted for perhaps 45 minutes to an hour, and then the wind calmed and the rain became a steady beat on the sides of the tent.

I had put my phone under my pillow to keep it from getting wet. I turned it on and checked the weather radar app and saw the angry red portions of the storm had passed over us and were on the way to do more mischief somewhere else.

My sleeping bag kept me reasonably warm even though it was wet. The cot kept me above the floor of the tent so I didn’t have to evacuate to the airplane and sleep sitting up in the cockpit.

When the garbage truck woke me on its regular five o’clock schedule, I was wet and a little cold, but not too uncomfortable. I was able to get back to sleep until about 6:15, then got up, got some dry clothes on and hopped the bus to the Tall Pines Café once again for a hot breakfast and a couple cups of coffee.

I got back to camp, washed my face and brushed my teeth, emptied the tent of the one inch of water in the bottom, hung my gear all over the airplane, and went off to work the morning on the flight line. Everything dried out by afternoon, my tent is back to its comfy self, and, best of all, there wasn’t major damage to my and the other airplanes on the field.

My optimism had been rewarded and I had another story from my trips to AirVenture.

It was, looking back over the years, just another typical week at Oshkosh.