Scrapbook Days
(by Kevin Bertorelli)
During these wintery holidays, many memories are shared with our families and
friends. Some of these include those scrap book flying days when God is on
your side and the warm summer breezes blow ultralight style. I've been flying
now for some 500 plus hours and have experienced a handful of these special
days that I share with my fly buddies on such special occasions.
Picture a beautiful July weekend starting off with a flight down to Starved
Rock Island and a group we called the "Fearsome Foursome". We were a motley
group of four rookie fliers on our first excursion to the unknown pleasures of
island camping. We left early on Saturday morning to avoid the dreaded
daytime thermals only to find the flying was perfect the entire weekend.
Camping gear on board, this was going to be a "Boys night out" and then some.
We landed on the Island at about 10:00 am and dropped off the gear with Bob,
who was the resident bartender of the facility. By this time the park across
the river from the island was teaming with spectators with envious eyes.
After only 10 to 15 minutes on the ground, we were overwhelmed with the urge
to get in our planes that were now parked invitingly in the sun, and rip into
the air to continue our adventure. As the park crowd watched, we circled
overhead viewing the awesome site and feeling "Like a virgin, for the very
first time".
The day was long and fuel was a plenty with all the nearby marinas scattered
up the down the river. We scoured the hills and valleys for excitement and
came to perch on a flood plain that was smooth, dry, and made a perfect
landing zone. By this time the July heat was maxed out and the nearby lake
was just what we needed. After a short walk, it was skinny dipping fun - no
time to be reserved at these temperatures. We found that the water was cool
and refreshing, but the Blue Gill would bite anything that even looked like a
worm. While we were swimming around, a guy and his son peddled up on their
bicycles and were invited to jump in. The father warned us of the unfriendly
plant life that was surrounding the shoreline and nearby trees. It seems that
this location was the center of every kind of poisonous plant life known to
man. No wonder nobody was swimming in this beautiful lake. After drying off,
we walked back to our flying beasts, once again glad to return to the air
where we belonged. More flying, more gas, more flying, more gas... what a
day.
On our return to the island, we sat in the bar and had a campers dinner - hot
dogs and potato chips. After the sun went down, we called the wives and some
of us stayed and tipped a few beers while we reminisced the days' events before
retiring to our tents. Talk about sleeping like a log, one of the guys woke
up the next morning with jumbo spiders swinging over his head and massive
mosquito bites - nothing could disturb his sweet dreams.
We packed up our gear, said our good-byes, and headed back to the warm calm
air on Sunday morning. We still had one more day to explore our new found
freedom. Over the park and down the river we flew, this time in search of
fuel and an early lunch. We stopped later at Starved Rock Marina, ...kinda.
We had to land in a nearby mud flat and find our way through some obstacles
before reaching the entrance road. On the way, the guys egged me into jumping
over a small creek which I didn't clear and my shoes got covered with some
sort of disgusting slime. We ate lunch in this swanky restaurant, but got a
lot of strange stares. Was it my shoes, or did they know we had no business
being there?
That overwhelming feeling returned as we walked up to our planes where we
left them parked earlier. After strapping on our auxiliary tanks and
discussing our intentions, we launched our flying machines off the mud flats
and headed for Ottawa - where we planned to head up the Fox river for our
return flight VFR, Visual Flight by River. The river and winds were calm and
there were hundreds of conoe'rs partying on the water. This made for a great
meeting of the boaters and fliers that July afternoon. If we would have only
had floats on our planes, we could have gone completely nuts -- but we did
anyway.
As the evening approached and we were on our final leg, we shared a feeling
that all pilots get. That's the feeling that you don't want to end your
scrapbook adventure and land. You and your flying buddies have finally become
one with your planes, and the thought of landing and hitting that kill switch
brings a sadness that passes only with time. Believe me, you never forget days
like these, they're part of you forever.
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