Sylvia's Journal

Next to my computer, open on that page in Flight Training magazine for over a week now, is an article about how to land in strong cross winds (Uncrossing crosswind landings) with a picture on one page of a technique called ‘Crab and kick’ and on the other page one called ‘Slideslip.’ I have been looking each morning at these pictures as I sit here writing. Yesterday afternoon I saw it all put into practice, as Bill set the plane down in exactly that crosswind condition. The wind blew right between the main runways, gusting from 17 to 26 knots. I was glad I was sitting in the right seat. We could hear the voice from the tower over the radio saying softly, ‘wow!’ after the landing. We all agreed.

It was the end of a lovely trip over snow covered landscapes to Glenn Falls in Upstate New York; the place we had not been able to reach last week because of low clouds. This time we approached from the south, flying first west to North Adams, slugging it out against a forty knot northwesterly wind that doubled our flying time. As the outgoing pilot I added another 2.3 hours to my logbook for cross county flying. I have surpassed the 50 miles you need as a minimum precondition for getting one’s instrument rating; something for which I have no appetite (nor money) at the moment.

I landed us in perfect conditions at Glenn Falls airport at the southern end of Lake George. We parked between many other small planes that were taking advantage of the perfect conditions: unlimited visibility and clear skies with very little wind on the ground. At Glenn Falls you could see the snow covered mountain ranges in the north and when we left Beverly we could see the Blue Hills in back of Boston’s skyscape.

It was Bill’s birthday in addition to Valentines day and this seemed enough occasion to have lunch in the airport cafeteria. The tiny 3-table and 1-counter restaurant was (wo)manned by the frightening Tessie the Terror as she called herself. A picture of Tessie in younger days stood on a bookshelf on the side. I think it was made by the same photographer who memorialized Penny in her early days of beauty.

Tessie did things her way and at her speed and made it clear that she was not to be challenged or hurried. Tessie’s place was full of graying and balding men who were drinking decaf coffee and bitching about our new president. The menu had probably not changed much over the years, basic American fifties fare. Bill had a bowl of potato soup (with oyster crackers) and I had a thick grilled (American) cheese sandwich. We split the fries.

Bill piloted us back so I got to be the navigator. We flew a few miles north over frozen Lake George before turning east to Rutland and from there direct to Beverly. I could see the ice fishermen sitting quietly waiting for a bite – I imagined them escaping from wife and household duties. If they were anything like the folks in the restaurant, they probably were much happier out in the open far away from women like Tessie who treated them like unruly and irresponsible little boys.

We flew over Vermont’s ski areas and I could see the skiers get on and off lifts, fix their bindings and slide down the slopes. As we moved further east the winds began to pick up leading us eventually to the crosswind landing that took all of Bill’s concentration and accumulated flying experience.

Back home with my own Valentine, we took advantage of Tessa and Steve not being around and cooked a wonderful fish soup while listening to a detective book-on-CD that plays in the days of the janissaries in Turkey. Dinner was followed by watching one of the 7 movies we brought back from the library, ending a day that was perfect. I fell asleep feeling blessed.