Sylvia's Journal

Despite the encouraging outlook briefings I received from various aviation websites yesterday morning, the sky was full of large clouds and remained so for most of the day. Cloud cover is measured in eights, called oktas; five oktas means that five eights of the sky is covered. That was about the condition when I arrived at the airport; impressive clouds with large patches of clear blue skies in between. Pilots call these holes. They allow you to go up and down, to be above or under the clouds, without having to go through them, which is not allowed under visual flight rules (VFR). Going under a cloud is only possible if there is enough room between the cloud and the ground (which includes large structures with blinking red lights on them). Going above the clouds assumes you have an engine that allows you to get up to where you to need to be to fly free of the clouds before the hole closes. That’s the problem with holes, they can close on you. Yesterday’s sky was so that some holes closed but others opened. Because there was little wind they did this slowly. With high winds you don’t even want to try.

Against the backdrop of 4 to 5 oktas of cloud cover, yesterday’s cross country presented a few more new experiences. One was flying higher than I ever have in our little Piper Warrior (7500 feet), another was having to navigate the considerable cloud cover at that altitude to stay VFR. It was beautiful and intense; so intense that I gave the controls to Bill at some point when the clouds started to push us higher and higher and me up beyond my comfort levels.  The third new experience was being scolded by Boston traffic control for changing our altitude without making a request first. This is not a good idea when the clouds are obscuring pilots’ view and traffic controllers assume everyone staying level at the altitude they have last communicated. I let Bill apologize to the angry controller person, while I registered the lesson. He then got us down through a large break in the cloud cover to a flight level I am more comfortable with, 2500, and handed the controls back to me. After that flying was a piece of cake.  I stayed below the clouds that had risen to give me more room until we got to our destination on the sunny southern shores of Connecticut with only a 2-okta sky. We took the scenic route back; this time entirely below the clouds at low altitude, over Newport, New Bedford, Norwood, Bedford and back to Beverly. We took our time and enjoyed the views, the ride and each other’s company.

When I told Axel the story of my encounter with clouds he said he could just imagine the beauty of the cloudscape with bits and pieces of New England peeking through. But he also caught the potential for panic, as expressed by the question “but what if you cannot find a hole to get back down?”  The answer is simple of course: don’t get to that point. I know I would not have gone up by myself to fly cross county and I certainly would not have tried to fly above the clouds and have to worry about visibility, clouds and holes. But with Bill’s experience and instrument rating I felt comfortable and was able to enjoy the view while he flew.

Arne showed me yesterday that when I am up in the skies and when I am assigned a transponder code, he can follow our flight on his computer by simply putting in my tail number at Flightaware.com. You can see where we have been and where we are heading at exactly which time. Big Brother is watching; that is, if we let him of course by asking for flight following. But when I travel cross county I prefer to tell people in front of big screens that I am up in the sky and enlist their help in looking out for me, especially when there are so many clouds that obscure other planes, moving very fast around us.

Yesterday was a flying day. Once again we tried to fly to Owl’s Head (Rockland, Maine) and once again we did not make it. At this pace it may take years to get there. Instead we flew to Portland Maine and I had my first experience landing in a C airspace, which is one category down from airports like Boston, LA and New York, and one level up from places like Beverly and Concord. Flying into a C airspace requires more radio contact with approach and departure air traffic controllers, and thus more changes of frequencies; so it was nice to have four hands, eyes and ears.

From the ground it appeared like a nice day, blue sky, hardly any wind. Once off the ground it was hazy with a visibility around 6 miles at best and at times it felt like I was flying in the clouds. It was nice to have an IFR-rated co-pilot, just in case. I felt more comfortable by a few degrees, as each trip rebuilds my confidence and skill. Bill is a patient and gentle teacher. When I am doing something new or difficult he acts like a coach. On the way back we did a touch & go at Pease. Both airports have long runways, made for jets. One could take off and land again on the same runway in a tiny plane like ours. I imagine that, from a distance, we look like a mosquito amidst a flock of birds.

Below us everything was clear so we had an excellent view on the traffic jams on routes 495 and 95 where vacationers heading out to New Hampshire and Maine were stuck for miles. We bypassed the lines at a speed of 100 knots, about 2000 feet overhead and got to experience how the traffic reporters feel as they tell us from overhead what a jam we are in. This is why I have a plate on our car that says “I’d rather be Flying.”

While I was up in the air Axel had bicycled to a pick nick a little further north up the shore organized by the Democratic town committee of which he is an active member. Several hours later he dragged himself in on his bike as if he had just completed the most demanding leg of the Tour de France. It is at those moments that we know his stamina isn’t back to what it used to be. That it was over 90 degrees did not help, but living by the ocean did help and we both spent the next few hours in Lobster Cove or on its edges, swimming, reading, napping, swimming, reading, napping; several cycles of this.

A gentleman who was doing the same on the other side of the Cove walked over and introduced himself. Axel’s and his grandfather used to be good friends. Soon the conversation drifted into architecture and the demolition of famous old houses when mega million lots change hands. Axel pulled a mildewed chart from the cellar that showed the area of Lobster Cove some 125 years ago. The chart shows few houses. Most of the area was farmland, along Lobster Cove road which is now Masconomo Street. The chart always makes for good conversation but its current state also reminds us that we have been bad stewards of the inheritance which is in rough shape and needs expert care to restore it and save it a few more generations.

I rigged my newly varnished Alden Shell and Axel pulled down his kayak for a paddle/row to Singing Beach. When I row without moving my seat we go about the same speed; when I use the full stroke I take off like a lightning bolt leaving Axel far behind. We look in different directions: he sees where I am going, and can warn me of rocks and large rollers while I see where I have been, which includes the sight of Axel fading into the distance. Axel had brought two beers for the trip but I soon learned that although you can paddle with a beer between your knees (there is even a cup holder in the molded kayak seat) you cannot do that rowing. Soon I had a bottle rolling around in a puddle of beer underneath my sliding seat. When I later carried the boat back onto shore beer dripped into my hair and down my face. I could catch a few droplets mixed in with salt water.

When the tide was at its lowest we hunted for mussels and discovered to our dismay that our two sources were empty. The middle of the cove had been scoured clean of mussels by the winter storms while the tide pool bed had been scooped clean last summer by humans who had shown up with big buckets. We had no idea what a job they had done; nor the effect of this winter’s storms. It looks like it will be a summer without mussels for the first time in many years; a big disappointment. The intended mussel dinner thus had to be canceled. Instead we had potatoes and zucchini from our garden, stir-fried with local shrimp that we froze last winter, in a not so local peanut sauce.
 

The Maine coast remained in the fog and so we flew south, to Newport in Rhode Island. By doing this we got into one of the more crowded air corridors in America. The chatter on the radio was incessant. The voice from Boston Approach alerted us to planes at 10, at 12 or at 3 o’clock, and positions in between. Some of them were going fast over our heads, or under us on their way in and out of Logan. Having four eyes rather than two in addition to those of the air traffic controllers was comforting but of little use as it was nearly impossible to identify small planes like us (the only ones we really have to worry about since they fly at the same altitude) in the haze.

We got a little more adept at using our Garmin 430. The little pink plane on the screen guided us to our destination via the midway points we had programmed in. And when it told us our destination was at our nose, we could see it from a distance of 6 miles. That is when we discovered there were parachutes coming down right over the field and many other small aircraft coming and going. With all that activity going on preparation for landing was so intense that I did not get to enjoy the landscape from the air. It is rather spectacular as Newport is sited in an area that is entirely defined by water.

On the way back the air traffic was a little less intense and we finally figured out how to use the automatic pilot that kept me on course and less busy. My confidence is rising with each trip and some of the activities are now laid down in neural paths in my brain that get wider, deeper and stronger from the incessant practice. In 3 weeks we are trying the Maine coast again. Then Bill will fly some of the legs of our trip and I get to fiddle with the radio and GPS.

Axel returned home early from politicking in Lowell and went fishing. It was that kind of day, hot and hazy, propelling anyone with any sense to be as close to the water as possible, or in it. He did not catch anything but I have come to understand that this is not the only thing fishing is about.

Tessa called from London in much higher spirits than her last call. She has told the college administrators that she is no longer a student (no one seems to care much about the fact that her stated reason for leaving was ‘disappointment with the program.’). She has ended her lease as per August 1 and is heading our way with a first car load of stuff on Monday. Where it is all going to live is a mystery since Sita and Jim have not moved out. I remember the two suitcases and the ‘duwkar’ (a tiny cart for toddlers who are learning to walk) that held all our possessions as we walked from one apartment to our next in TriBeCa at the tip of Manhattan some 26 years ago. We have acquired much stuff together. A whole village in Nepal could live comfortably for generations off our stuff.

After landing I prepared the goody bags for my fellow Board members of OBTS. We are having our Board meeting at Babson College for the next few days before the official opening of OBTC 2008 on Wednesday. That is also when Axel will join me in my dorm room until the end of the week. This annual conference is one of the highlights of my year, both professionally and socially. I am doubly thrilled this year that I don’t have to get on a plane and can just drive into Boston.

In the evening we went to a wonderful concert of Chorus North Shore at Gordon College that lifted our spirits and energy in ways that coffee can not. In the intermission and at the end there was much conversation as we live in a small community and most people that come to these events know each other. One of the topics was Hillary’s concession speech which we had not listened to. Back home we looked it up on the internet and listened. We agreed that it was a great and gracious speech. This election season has given us some very good pieces of oratory from which we can mine many great quotes for years to come. I particularly liked the line about the 18 million cracks in the glass ceiling after having heard in the afternoon some of the venomous language about her from conservative radio talk show hosts that made me sick. It seems that their venom is really directed at strong women in general. The comparison with nagging wives made me think that all they know about women is from marriages gone sour. The poor bastards.

Rockland Country in Maine was not clear yet as we had hoped. The route allong the coast of Maine was so heavily fogged in that we had to change our plans for our long cross country flight. After listening to the weather forecast in the New England Region we decided to fly to Dutchess County airport, better known as Poughkeepsie. It is a name that does not roll of the tongue very easily and I kept tripping over the name all the way out there and back. But now, at 5 AM on Monday morning I can say it without a blink or a stutter. A useful acquisition!

I was a little flustered trying to prepare for a completely new route in just half an hour and was relieved that Bill was backing me up. We took off for Western Massachusetts and then Connecticut/NY yesterday morning. The sky was dotted with the most beautiful cloud formations that required much concentration on my part. I managed to stay under them, as is required when you fly by visual flight rules (called VFR). I felt quite secure having an instrument rated pilot sitting next to me, just in case. I took over more of the tasks that Bill usually does, like timing fuel tank use and the passing of way station points. However, I did not allow him to ‘just enjoy the ride.’ He still did the checking of our position on VORs and much of the radio work as well as the GPS programming. We are both still learning how to do it and often get to the desired screen without remembering the sequence, a rather frustrating hit-or-miss kind of programming. There is a program that you can download from the internet which is a Garmin 430 simulator; something I keep intending to do but there never seems to be a long rainy day.

It was a strange sensation to fly right by Bradley International Airport where large commercial aircrafts shoot up into and out of the sky like rockets when seen from the vantage point of our little putput. We trusted our eyes and the traffic control people that followed our little blip on their screen just like the others to keep us out of each others’ way and guided us safely across various busy and not so busy air spaces.

The landscape under us changed from heavily populated to heavily forrested as we got closer to Poughkeepsie. We scanned for fields, a good practice for the just-in-case emergency when a landingstrip is not in sight. With the prevailing wind from the West we noticed that all the fields were North-South and wondered why. We crossed the Connecticut River and the majestic Hudson River as well as some other smaller rivers, lakes and reservoirs. Bill has flown down the Hudson River, circled the Statue of Liberty and flew back up in the night sky some years ago. He said it was magical and promised to take me down that long VFR corridor some day. That may be the time when Axel is ready to fly with us.

As we put-putted back from the Hudson the winds began to get stronger. With the wind in our back we gained about 20 minutes on our time going out. In total we flew 3.5 hours which brings my cross county pilot-in-command time to about 29 hours. This is over half of what I need to have if I ever wanted to get my instrument rating. Right now I am not quite ready for that as I am focusing all my attention on (re)building my confidence. Bill is an awesome teacher and great cockpit companion.

Back home I changed from pilot gear into more festive attire to accompany Axel to a birthday party of a man named Richard who I did not know but who borrowed our party tent last year via Axel’s cousin Bonnie. Richard is heavily clued in to the Gloucester music scene in addition to owning a home with rolling lawns sprinkled with rocks and magnificent 270 degree views on the edge of Gloucester Harbor right across from Ten Pound Island. To our great surprise we actually knew some people and enjoyed the music, company and good food for a few hours. Back home we watched another episode with Helen Mirin as Chief Inspector (Prime Suspect) and, after viewing three episodes still don’t know who-dunnit. To be continued!

Reinout landed on both feet yesterday, and so did his son Steven who followed him out of the plane over Texel. They both thought it was an awesome experience, worth repeating. Reinout’s partner Joke, and me, were glad it was over. I caught them on the phone over dinner last night. They were celebrating his courage, stupidity or good luck; or maybe all of it combined.

We also hope Sita landed on her feet in Sharm el Sheik. She is joined by Bush, Musharraf and other heads of state. We are not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing for her. We are dying to hear from her but she must be busy or not allowed to communicate with ordinary mortals.

DJ, Tessa’s Rockport employer and one of my staunchest blog readers had to do without an entry this morning because I was busy sorting out how to fly to Wiscasset (Maine) and back via Auburn/Lewiston to Beverly again. My flying buddy Bill thinks I do way too many calculations, but that is the way I was taught and I am still not entirely comfortable relying on the Garmin GPS that was installed a great cost in the plane. Bill is an engineer and does calculations in his head without any effort. I have to learn stuff by heart because I can’t always figure out how to get to the answer. I think I am finally getting the hang of when to start descending, the formula includes factors such as number of feet descent per minute, speed and RPM. For a thousand feet down I require 4 miles at 2050 RPM. Bill is teaching me things that make my descent more orderly and controlled, a good thing.

When I woke up this morning I did not think we were going to fly. It rained and the clouds hung low. A call with the flight briefer, a service from the US government, was hopeful. We simply left a bit later than planned after the low pressure front moved away from us; as predicted by the weather man, the rain stopped and the clouds lifted.

We flew along the coast north at an altitude of about 3500 feet. The views are great from up there. After Portland we flew over the islands that stick out into the ocean, with even more glorious views all around. These are the kinds of trips I would like to take Axel on but neither one of us is quite ready for that yet.

After dropping me off at the flight center this morning, Axel had gone to the Annual American Institute of Architecture convention in Boston to learn more about the art of building ‘green’ and to enjoy anything that has to do with great design. He picked me up at the Flight Center after Bill and I touched down safely, back from Lewiston.

When I arrived home Larissa was waiting for us with a pot of tea, so very Dutch and so very at home in our house. Larissa is the daughter of dear friends who live in the Eastern part of Holland, who I seldom see. Larissa, on the other hand, is a frequent visitor to our house. She studies English in Boston, even though she no longer needs to. Her English is fluent. She drops by every few months, showing classmates the most beautiful place in the world. This time she showed up with two other Dutch students, Merel from Zeist and Martine form Den Haag. After tea they drove to Rockport to see Tessa at work in the leather shop. Since I needed a new pair of Dansko clogs I came along. I had myself served, expertly, by saleslady Tessa and returned with a new pair of just the kind of shoes I like.

It is a beautiful spring evening, just the right kind of temperature and lighting for a birthday party at the St. Johns. We are celebrating Katie Blair’s birthday a few days ahead of time.

I woke up from Ethiopia dreams to find Ethiopian coffee waiting for me in the kitchen. Axel went shopping yesterday and bought it to get me acclimated to my new destination; an Ethiopian warm-up of sorts.

With a trip so close on the horizon the work that is generated by coming back and leaving is squeezed into this very short time frame. People asked me whether I had some time to recover from Afghanistan and the answer is no. It is like the touch-and-go’s that I practice in my small plane; no stopping.

My flying buddy Bill called me last night and we are going on a trip Saturday; via Portsmouth to Laconia and then back via Concord or Manchester, flying on VORs (instruments) only. It has been a long time since I last did that and I am glad I am flying with an experienced pilot. It will be a great day for flying, as it was yesterday when I came home to a glorious Lobster Cove where a little plane overhead made me want to go straight to the airport. Instead we walked around the loop and saw the bulbs come up and trees leafing out right in front of our eyes. We stopped for a while at the place where the header of my blog is taken. The current header is from 2006. In the meantime a house has gone up on the right and so we need a new set of seasonal shots. The house is actually quite nicely designed into the landscape. Axel is waiting for that special day when the sun is right and all the trees are covered with a thin veil of young green. That’s when he will take the spring picture.

Fatou is out of the hospital and I am trying to arrange a meals-on-wheels kind of arrangement since she has no help at home. It is time for us to give back what we received last summer and fall. We know that she will heal faster if she is surrounded by friends. Her family is in faraway Senegal, so it will have to be friends that circle around her.

It is better to ask for forgiveness than permission. We went flying and decided not to tell the parentals until afterwards. It was the first time since July that I took non-pilots up. I stayed in familiar airspace. We flew over Essex County and ‘visited’ Manchester, circling a few times over the house, then Gloucester, Annisquam, Ipswich, Plum Island, Newburyport, Essex and then back to Beverly airport. It was a glorious winter day, clear as far as the eye could see with great views of Boston. Yesterday’s storms had blown all the wind out of the area, although there was some unsettled air, causing a little turbulence. The boys took many pictures and videos of take-off and landing.

They took turns sitting in front and holding the controls. There was a lot of going up and down, leaning left and right, not all that much fun for the one sitting in back but exciting nevertheless. They discovered that it takes very little movement to change the altitude and attitude of the plane.

Back home Pieter and Huib continued their frustrating search for cheap lodging in New York (it is Spring Break!) and networked their way into the Dutch Harvard Med School community in the hope of attending a class or, at a minimum, getting a tour of this hallowed place. For me it was a workday with a flying break: finishing reports, updating my address book and putting all my receipts in order. It was also time to catch up on emails and the business that went on while I was away. Later this week I will focus on the next assignment: Afghanistan (Kabul) in just over two weeks.

Axel went to see his physiatrist who interpreted his latest MRI. As it turns out one vertebra, L5, has not healed yet, which explains the pains he is still having in his lower back and possibly the funny click that you can hear when he makes a particular movement. It was a little bit discouraging to get this news, now nearly 8 months after the accident, but he took it in stride. His physical therapy is continuing once a week and his therapist is working on the right things, according to the new doctor. The next doctor’s appointment is for the hand, still swollen, which needs some professional attention.

After a dinner of roasted chicken and winter vegetables the young people went out bowling while we old folks watched part of a movie until it was bedtime; an early bedtime, for it was a school night again.