News/Press Releases

Birds of a Feather Part III

By Karen Atkins 

  Tensions were high, with weather delaying the start of the 2019 Air Race Classic. By late morning, the first two legs of the race – LaGrange, GA and Hattiesburg, MS – were canceled by race officials due to thunderstorms in our flight path. Finally, after several hours, the parade of pilots began to take off for the first flyby, in Arkansas, our team being one of the last to depart. Under a gray sky with Donna flying our first leg, we were keeping a sharp eye out for cell towers and obstructions, weather improving the further we headed west.

After flying through busy Memphis airspace, approaching the airport in Arkansas, Donna conducted our first flyby. Flybys are low passes, at about 300 feet, over a timing line that let the race officials time each team for each leg of the race. Over the radio, we heard one of the young college teams abort their low pass and conduct a go-around when a racer prematurely took the runway for departure. Yikes! With a few heart palpitations, Donna flew the flyby PERFECTLY! We were thankful to leave this first timing point in the wind, getting in front of the bevy of slower airplanes needing to stop for fuel.

"That wasn't so bad!" Donna declared about 10 miles later. On a northbound heading for Lee's Summit, MO, we started to relax, the cloud deck lifting along with our spirits. Within two hours, we were approaching the airport, with its handsome, long, wide runways. Donna gracefully executed the flyby to stop the clock and circled around to land. Our arrival was heralded as if we were royalty – dozens of locals waving at us as we taxied by. It was too late in the day to continue, so we spent the night in Missouri, simultaneously exhilarated and exhausted. The first day of the race was a success!

On Wednesday, we woke at the crack of dawn, all the racers in a constant state of checking forecasts. A sluggish cold front was hanging over the area that could potentially thwart our flight plans for hours. Today was my day to fly.

Several teams lined up to depart, but the 1,300-foot ceilings made us incredibly uncomfortable. We delayed, but several teams decided to launch, betting that if they first flew west, then north, they could get to clear skies. Curious strategy, since this would significantly add to their flight times for the race. As pilot-in-command for this leg, I made the decision to wait it out for clearer skies. One team took off early, thinking they could find a hole in the clouds and climb above the cloud deck. This turned out to be a fateful decision. Yes, they found that hole, but as they ascended, the clouds began to wrap their ghostly arms around them…and squeeze. Reaching 12,000 feet in their small airplane, they could climb no higher and found themselves flying blind in the soup. Very fortunately, they were instrument-rated and called Air Traffic Control for a pop-up clearance, performing an instrument approach at a Missouri airport 10 miles north of us. Thank goodness they were safe!

Weather-checking became obsessive — 8 a.m. become 10 a.m., 10 a.m. become noon, noon became 2 p.m., with the clock slowly ticking. Mid-afternoon, I saw a window of opportunity and told the girls to get ready – let's preflight the plane. Several other teams saw our plan and started doing the same. Climbing into Donna's beloved bird, being somewhat unfamiliar with the modern panel, I was anxious but confident. At 3:20 p.m., we departed to the northwest, with gray skies and ceilings at 1,500 feet. If we could just get 20-25 miles north, the sky beyond this crap was brilliant blue.

I've never flown so low, for so long, in my life. Passing giant cell towers at my wing level, with veils of dense rain at both the left and right of us, was hair-raising. Most wicked were the massive wind turbines with their blades thumping a menacing tune. LOTS to sidestep around in the sky, but my teammates had their eyes peeled diligently out the windows, watching for threats. Getting past the crud, climbing to 4,500 feet, it felt like the stairway to heaven had opened. When we got within range of Fairmont, MN, our callout over the radio, "Classic Racer 37, ten miles out, flyby to continue", was exhilarating. I flew a perfect low pass, continuing on to our next waypoint. My only regret was that we had no time to stop at the bacon capital of the world!

After the stress of not departing until late in the day under low overcast skies, plus over four hours flying, I was beat. Our next stop was Wausau, WI, where we planned to spend the night before crossing the border into Canada. Plenty of other teams with the same plan were bearing down on us, and it became a game of hide and seek to see who could get to Wausau first. The airport is hidden behind a blunt, rounded ridge, difficult to spot, and the conga line of Classic Racers were all speeding toward the flyby. Shooting the low pass among three other teams, it felt like a game of dodgeball. Finally circling to land, I was ready – really ready – to hit the ground. Just didn't think it would be literal, when I had the worst landing of my pilot life. I heard piercing shrieks from both Donna and Kimberly as the wheels
unsteadily hit the runway with a solid thud…but hey, after 5 hours, both the plane and my teammates were safe and unscathed. Time for Karen to get a stiff drink!

It was quiet at dinner that night, with much to reflect upon from the days' flying efforts, but my teammates were both incredibly supportive and complimentary of my time in the cockpit. This was a sisterhood! The next morning, it was Kimberly's turn to fly. Being extremely sensitive to babying Donna's plane, Kimberly's piloting skills were top-notch. Crossing the border, we stopped for customs, which was incredibly easy, the border agents appearing at our windows to clear us almost immediately after landing. After that quick stop, we continued over the desolate Canadian landscape, with frequent thoughts of, "Geez, if something happened, where would we land?" But the long flight east was uneventful, while stunning in its stark beauty. As we approached North Bay, ON, brisk winds began to pick up, favoring the north. Asking the tower for permission to land on runway 34, the Canadian controller told us, "Nope, that runway's under construction, don'tcha know, but you're cleared to land on runway 08 – only a few people have bounced so far, eh." That caused some wide-eyed looks at each other, but with perfect aplomb, Kimberly made a textbook landing, the plane lightly touching down with a happy chirp from the tires. We knew we were in the northern wilderness when a black bear ran across the tarmac in front of us! That night, we gorged ourselves on cheese curds, fresh fish, thick cheeseburgers and truffle fries. Tomorrow was the last day of the race, with Donna back at the helm, taking us to the finish.

The final leg of the race was the most beautiful, in my opinion. As we flew over the deep, inky waters of the Great Lakes, passing just west of Toronto's airspace, the sun welcomed us on this bright June morning. Upon final approach into the Welland, ON, the terminus airport, a photographer captured a picture of Donna's landing, perfectly encapsulating the moment. Taxiing in, we were greeted by a bevy of British classic cars that chauffeured us to the terminus tent to turn in our race equipment and logbooks. "We did it!" Kimberly exclaimed. Donna and I simply had wide smiles of relief and happiness as we all settled in. After the last team arrived on Friday afternoon, Air Race Classic celebrations commenced. There were the standard debriefings, but also a terrific "meltdown" party, where racers shared stories of their individual adventures. On the final night, the racers and their guests all gathered for dinner at the local country club, where awards, trophies, and medallions were presented with much pomp and circumstance. There were many cheers, big grins, bear hugs, and lots of "let's stay in touch" promises made among all the racers. Donna, Kimberly, and I did not win any awards in the 2019 Air Race Classic, but we filled a bucket full of memories and commenced a bond that will last a lifetime. While the Air Race Classic had officially concluded, the birds of a feather vowed to one another that this would not be the end of their story, and this would only be the first of their aviation adventures.