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Posted By:
Nickens, Dan
Date Posted:
Feb 8, 2018
Description:
How interesting would a description of the perfect day of SeaReying be to folks that have been there and done that? Right. But how about an exposé of all the little underlying imperfections behind barely contained mayhem? Let's see....
Date Taken:
Feb. 6, 2018
Place Taken:
Down on the Suwanee River, FL
Owner:
Nickens, Dan
File Name:
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Category:
Florida Flying
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Nickens, Dan - Feb 08,2018
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Start with a morning the likes of which make the Florida Chamber of Commerce apologists dance on their desks. Paint over blue skies with lightly dimpled, fluffy unicorn clouds. Blow winds whispering just enough over the water to break out into widely scattered ripples of laughing wavelets. Add an ambient temperature warm enough to worry global warmists but cool enough to keep them from sweating. Stir into the mix a recently ignored SeaRey just waiting to get back out into it all and you have the making of a perfect SeaRey day.
But perfection can be a place just beyond the horizon when there are weeds in your path. Water weeds. Hydrilla. Invasive hydrilla verticillata now flourish in the waterway I needed to launch. When you don't use your seaplane ramp on a regular basis the green terrorists can gather in sufficient mass to sabotage perfect launching plans.
Stop and clear a path? "Screw that! This Rotax-powered weed-whacking seadozer can blast right through the greenery with splash and wave!"
Okay, so afterwards there was a bit of clean up on the left and right aisles. The gear legs were efficient collectors of the stringy weeds. You could almost hear the green strands laughing at the futility of clearing them from the ramp only to transplant them into virgin water further out. Oh well, that's a problem for some far future date and not reason to delay departure into the perfection directly above.
Hmm....the airplane seemed a bit sluggish to get up on step. Well, there was a good explanation. The wind was so weak I just launched anywhich way. Maximum performance was not to be expected.
The explanation lost credibility when I did get on step and tried to gently rotate into the blue. There was a sudden snag, a tangible retardation of progress. A brief indication of something just not quite right. All that was so easy to forget when the wings swam into the smooth blue air. Ah! Sweet perfection!
Now, where to go? So many options. A radio call overheard on the local SeaRey frequency offered one. When I tried my radio, however, all I got was a squeal. The previously ignored, sometimes balky push-to-talk switch refused to cooperate.
"Radio? Radio! We don't need no stinkin' radio!" There were vast swatches of wilderness out there that would welcome a radio-free SeaRey. That's where I headed.
It's easy to be lured into believing in perfection when the world is just so. The mirrored surface of Lake Panasoffkee offered an irresistible reason to mix sky and water.
Visions of slickly sliding upon the unmarred sky-water interface was jarred into reality by a sharp snag of the tail. Reacting to the sudden, unexpected interruption of smooth perfection I applied power to climb away. Only then did I check the float mirrors to see the tail wheel hanging down. "That's not perfect!"
Now what? Abort a beautiful day because of stuck tail wheel? Not going to happen. It's just a change of plane....er, plan.
What I needed was a nice beach to dig the weeds out of the tail wheel. I headed towards Crystal River and the Gulf beaches. I couldn't imagine a more perfect environment for sorting out a minor organo-mechanical issue.
There was no hurry to deal with the incomplete retraction. I wandered along Crystal River, cruising over it's clear water filled with lumbering gray manatee.
Out on the gulf sandy, palm-shaded beaches stretched to the horizon. So many opportunities for a quiet break in flight for weed removal!
There was a minor flaw in the appeal of the white, sandy beaches: salt. Not that I'm averse to saltwater, but I preferred to allocate all my time to flying. Perfect time did not include cleaning off the salt après flight.
No worries. The Suwanee River was just a short way north, past schools of dolphin, gliding rays, and miles of intricate marshes.
And past a failed nuclear power plant. Since it was still an operating coal-fired plant, I gave it a wide buffer. No need to stir up hysteria about aerial terrorism in what must be a tense workplace, what with worthless nuclear fuel rods sitting there next to hotly fired coal being burned.
I didn't get too far away before a fast mover burst into my peripheral vision. Off to my near starboard side a Cessna Citation blasted past at my altitude. It passed so fast there was no time to react. At first I was perturbed that I had to share the airspace 300' over the gulf with anything but pelicans. Then I thought it might just be too selfish to not let the business jet jockey enjoy a brief moment of the time I was squandering at 65 mph.
On third thought I guessed it wasn't some thrill seeking corporate pilot out on a lark. No, it was likely that the jet was nothing but serious business. The Customs & Border Patrol Outlaw Organization (aka "CBP, or Cee-Bee-Poo" is known to pull stunts like this, burning up a lot of taxpayer kerosene for no good reason other than to harass free flying citizens. "Screw them and the horse they rode in on (a C-550)!" No reason to let them spoil a perfectly good day. I dropped down to 10' over the water. Let them join the fun down here if they dare!
There was no reason to fly higher anyway. There was beautiful open water where ever I looked. Even the broad entrance to the Suwanee River required nothing higher.
What loveliness! Slowly cruising the river just above the water in a valley of ancient cypress trees. Perfect!
It was perfect until I flew past a yellow government warning sign: "Caution: Dangerous Jumping Sturgeon".
Jumping Sturgeon? Dangerous? That's when I imagined a six footer flying into the cockpit with me. That would be dangerous, and less than perfect. I increased my cruising altitude to treetop level.
The gentle curves of the river and smooth air made it easy to trace the path of the water upstream. Perfect! Except there was a nagging worry. It wasn't so long ago that a local seaplane pilot died after flying into wires crossing the river. Intellectually I knew those wires were further upstream. That didn't relieve the edginess of being at just the right altitude to get snared by a mistake. I climbed up a bit more.
Though occasionally being distracted by bald eagles flying as my wingman, I was semi-seriously looking for the perfect beach for weed removal. Near the mouth of the river the banks were too soft. As I went further upstream small patches of sand occasionally showed up along the shoreline. Still, the perfect beach had to have enough room to safely park the plane, and be far enough away from boats and people to preserve the illusion of wilderness.
The perfect beach appeared and I circled for an approach. That's when I noticed the clear water of a Florida spring mingling with the dark brown tannin of the Suwanee. A little further looking revealed the great grey bodies of manatee gliding through the warm spring water.
Uh, oh. Manatee. Sure enough, a quick search of the waterway showed it was restricted by warning signs. Speed restrictions were there to protect the slow mammals. I could live with that. I flew on past the perfect beach.
It's a long river. After getting well away from speed restricted water I spotted a nearly perfect beach. It had the right angle, the right sand, and just enough clearance for SeaRey beaching.
Narrowly avoiding old logs almost buried below the shallow water surface, I navigated to the shore. Safely ashore with the airplane pulled up on the soft sand I could relax on a dry log seat to watch the river flow by.
The tranquility of my repose reminded me of the sad, classic Stephen Foster song, "Old Folks at Home" (1851):
"Way down upon de Swanee Ribber,
Far, far away,
Dere's wha my heart is turning ebber,
Dere's wha de old folks stay.
All up and down de whole creation
Sadly I roam,
Still longing for de old plantation,
And for de old folks at home.
(Chorus)
All de world am sad and dreary,
Eb-rywhere I roam;
Oh, darkeys, how my heart grows weary,
Far from de old folks at home!"
Expressive and gritty, prefect for sitting on the banks of the dark river. In historical context it was intended as the first person lament of a slave sold and removed from a home plantation. It was verse sympathetic to the sadness of the situation. Perfect in its time.
I was reminded that more recently, however, the song was deemed offensive because of references to "darkies" and "plantations". Somewhere along the way someone got offended. Indeed the State of Florida changed the lyrics to the state song to this:
Way down upon the Suwannee River,
Far, far away,
There’s where my heart is turning ever,
There’s where the old folks stay.
All up and down the whole creation,
Sadly I roam,
Still longing for my childhood station,
And for the old folks at home.
(Chorus)
All the world is sad and dreary
Everywhere I roam.
O dear ones, how my heart grows weary,
Far from the old folks at home.
Boring and sterile, right? It would be perfect if people were not so easily offended by mere language. I mean I could be offended by Sheldon Cooper's demeaning references to geologists. I just refuse to give him that much influence in my life (though I do thoroughly appreciate his scientific comedy).
Such thoughts were not perfectly suited to peaceful parking. In my distracted thinking I almost didn't notice that the flowing river had grabbed enough of the airplane to cause it to pivot. A wing tip light grabbed some low hanging moss.
"No worries." I'll just get my line and secure the wandering seaplane.
Oh wait. That was the line I had recently borrowed for another airplane. Darn.
Well, maybe I should just fix the airplane and move on. I swung the airplane around to where I could see the tail wheel.
The weeds were gone. Surprisingly the cable was just where it was supposed to be even though the wheel wasn't. "Now that's different." I pulled on the tail wheel only to discover it was held firmly in the half extended position.
Checking the cable in the cockpit I found something completely unexpected. The tail weeds had jerked just enough slack to let the cable improbably catch on a bulkhead bolt. Very strange, but easily resolved.
It was a perfect time to move on. Carefully watching for crossing power lines and ever ready to hunker down to avoid flying sturgeon, an uneventful departure was made.
It was past lunchtime. Running low on personal fuel I headed straight for the beach at Gator Joes.
It was deserted. Perfect! I had it all to myself.
Until I didn't. A pretty lady came running down the steps. "Oh what a nice toy!"
I knew it wasn't me she was referring to. She was enamored with the SeaRey.
"Can I look at it?" she gushed. I agreed that she could look all she wanted and moved on to find an outdoor table for lunch. I found the perfect table overlooking the beach, shaded from the sun and cooled by the gentle breeze.
Apparently looking at the SeaRey was not enough for Lisa. She tracked me down and invited me to join her and her girlfriend. She suggested she had questions about the airplane.
I looked over to see the girlfriend waving. There were tall drinks at the bar and smoking cigarettes beside her. I demurred saying I was in a hurry. And I was now. A perfectly relaxing lunch suddenly wasn't. An accommodating waitress promptly allowed me to be quickly fueled under now less than friendly glares. I escaped the dangerous situation expeditiously.
Without a reliable radio I skirted the Leesburg Class D airspace, diverting towards Lake Yale. Out on the mostly glassy lake was another seaplane. A single engine Fireboss was out there scooping water. I clung to the far side of the lake to keep out of its way.
Instead, the Fireboss headed towards me. On the way he dropped a spectacular load of water. I rocked my wings in salute.
On the way back to my hangar I dropped into Lake SeaRey just to emphasize that some folks weren't hard at work. I doubt it was motivating to see the product of all the factory's efforts out frolicking on day perfectly made for play, not work.
I was pleasantly surprised by a radio call from the factory inviting me to further exploit the day with a flight to watch the Falcon Heavy rocket launch. My balky radio chose that time to actually work and rely the sad news that I was out of time.
Back safely parked in the hangar there was a moment to reflect on an almost perfect day, marred only by weeds, annoying federal agents, snagged wires, political incorrectness, a missing line, and mostly by the rush of time. On further reflection, though, what would a perfectly entertaining day look like? Kinda like this one, I'm thinking.
| | Attachments:
Dangerous Jumping Fish
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Video of Flying Fish
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Dave, Yeo - Feb 08,2018
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Wow wee, That's some read Dan.
I was funny as while reading this (although not having any idea what so ever where any of those places are) I could
imagine all those things happening and you as the person you are and as eluded to in your writing, none of it really
phased you.
You didn't let any of it get to you. So many learnings from your writing that made me both laugh and think all at the
same time.
Keep up the great work - err play, and keep those stories coming.
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Nickens, Dan - Feb 08,2018
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As you are learning with your new 'Rey, Dave, gentle adventures are an everytime rite for fluid flyers. Imagine what fun you'll have way out there on the waters downunder! Speaking of excitement, have you organized your Kiwi seaplane fly&splash-in yet?
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Dave, Yeo - Feb 08,2018
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The more I imagine, The more I find the need to get into the machine Dan. As for the Fly & Splash-in I have a few pages of brain
storming and am about ready to find all of the Rey owners in Nz to start making it happen. One of the First things is to start a
Facebook group with SeaRey and Anfib owners/Pilots, Send out an email to all those concerned and start the ball rolling. 
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Ken Leonard - Feb 08,2018
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Great fun Dan. Always wondered why all my flights always seem to have a few imperfections and occasional screw ups. I
guess a bush pilot has to accept the mosquitos with the sunset.
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Carr, Frank - Feb 08,2018
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Glad to hear Ken, that I'm not the only one to have great flights with some squawks upon landing. But I bush pilot I ain't!
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Carr, Frank - Feb 08,2018
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Pure delight to read Dan, and no "Tale" it was. Thanks as always. I was half expecting that your early encounter with
waterweeds would have brought grief to some leading edges of your prop; glad it wasn't that.
Don't know what it is about geologists, but you guys fascinate me. Cheers.
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Wayne Nagy - Feb 08,2018
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I ain't afraid of no stinking' sturgeon....You should be...Frank Carr sent me this article...he knows I previously had a fish jump into my
plane while taking off....
FANNING SPRINGS —Dawn Poirier feels silly even saying it, and she knows there are people who won’t believe her, but here goes:
“My entire life was changed because of a fish.’’
In April, the 32-year-old Kenneth City woman was smashed by a sturgeon as it leapt out of the Suwannee River while she boated with
her boyfriend in Gilchrist County. They were traveling about 30 mph, she says, when a 3-to-6-foot long fish landed on her face, tore
off part of the boat’s motor and bounced back into the water.
“The whole right side of my face had to be reconstructed,’’ said Poirier, a single mother of two and owner of Serenity Skin Care of
Tampa Bay. “I was in a coma. I was on a breathing machine. I don’t remember 15 days of my life.’’
Poirier’s collision with a sturgeon was the first of six on the river since April. A week ago a sturgeon knocked a 9-year-old Lake City
girl from a boat, slicing her throat, and broke a fellow female passenger’s arm.
The six injuries are the most wildlife officials say they remember in a single year. Typically they see one or two.
So on Friday state officials began posting signs along the Suwanee warning the public of the potential danger of jumping sturgeon.
The 100 metal signs will be posted at boat ramps south from Hamilton County to the Gulf of Mexico.
“This is highly unusual,’’ said Maj. Bruce Hamlin, a commander with the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission. “Nobody’s
been killed but we’ve had some serious injuries.’’
Sturgeon live in the Gulf of Mexico in the winter but migrate to the Suwannee and other coastal rivers in north Florida in the spring
and summer to lay eggs. They have been found as far south as Charlotte Harbor and spotted in Tampa Bay.
Scientists are unsure why the fish jump. Some theorize it’s a way to deal with parasites or to communicate. “Nobody really knows,’’
Hamlin said.
The highest concentration of injuries this year has been on the Suwannee north of Fanning Springs, near the Gilchrist and Levy
county line. The Suwannee is believed to have the biggest sturgeon population, with more than 3,000.
Everyone along the historic river seems to have an eye-popping, holy cow story about leaping sturgeon.
“I had one jump out of the water and bend the front of my pontoon,’’ said Gary Fields, 50, as he stood this week outside Gail’s Cafe
near Fanning Springs under a dripping air conditioner.
“It jumped right in under me. Once it hit the boat it fell back in the water. I’m surprised more people don’t get hurt.’’
The commission’s goal is to finish hanging the signs before the upcoming Labor Day weekend, which draws hundreds of pleasure
seekers.
Wildlife officials said they cannot predict where or when the sturgeon will jump. But if boaters and watercraft operators slow down,
they can reduce the odds of getting hurt.
They also encourage people not to ride on the bow of a boat and to wear life preservers in case they get thrown.
Hamlin said he’s unsure why injuries are up but guesses it’s because more boaters are on the Suwannee, the subject of Florida’s
official state song.
“It doesn’t seem the fish are jumping any more than in the past,’’ he said.
The Gulf sturgeon, one of 27 sturgeon species, was added to the threatened list of the Endangered Species Act in 1991, making it
illegal to catch, kill or buy one.
The state stopped commercial fishing of sturgeon in 1984.
Sturgeon numbers dropped significantly in the early 20th century from over-fishing for their tasty boneless meat, which is smoked,
and their eggs, which are used to make caviar.
Fanning Springs fisherman Ed Addington, 54, wonders if the problem is too many sturgeon.
“You ever seen a sturgeon?’’ Addington asked earlier this week, taking a drag from a cigarette. “Boy they’re ugly. I just saw one
yesterday that jumped about 5 feet. I don’t understand why we can’t catch them.’’
Sturgeon date to the age of dinosaurs and they’ve kept their prehistoric look with their boneless bodies covered by hard plates lining
their backs. They have a vacuum-like mouth with a long snout and whiskers.
Some Suwanee River residents believe it’s only a matter of time before someone is killed by a leaping sturgeon, which can grow to 8
feet and weigh up to 200 pounds.
“You’ve got a lot of people who’ve never been on the Suwannee River and they fly up and down the river on them Jet Skis,’’ said
Phyllis Rankin, owner of The Original Suwannee River Campground near Fanning Springs. “I’m about half afraid to go out on the river
when they’re jumping.’’
One person delighted that warning signs are going up is Sue NesSmith, 49. In 1995, a sturgeon jumped into the pontoon boat where
she and her then-husband, James, were riding, cutting her leg and bruising his face.
She received special permission to keep the 5-foot-long, 70-pound fish, which hangs over a doorway in her restaurant, The
Lighthouse in Old Town.
“If we had been in a speed boat,’’ NesSmith said, “two of us would have been killed.’’
Poirier, the Kenneth City woman, said her face remains lopsided from the sturgeon crash. She struggles with her balance and suffers
from nasal congestion, not to mention $130,000 in medical bills.
“I’m mad about these silly fish,’’ she said. “Why are they jumping out of the water and hitting everyone?’’
Poirier said she will “never, never, never’’ return to the Suwannee River, unless, she jokingly added, “I’m wearing football gear.’’
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Nickens, Dan - Feb 08,2018
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Thanks for that, Frank. Geologists have their faults, but they are down to earth people. Just don't lend them money because they consider a million years to be Recent. Kiss one and feel the earthquake! (You know what they say about folks who make geology jokes....THEY'VE HIT ROCK BOTTOM!)
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Carr, Frank - Feb 09,2018
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Funny Dan, clearly you had those saved up for the right occasion.
I've met a geologist who was not down to earth however; indeed he became interested in astronomy (that's the other direction)
became a non-PhD professor at Cal Tech, and was the inspiration, promoter, and science brains behind the premier camera on
Hubble. See what you can do if you look up?
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Nickens, Dan - Feb 09,2018
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Saved up? Who, me? (And thanks for the softball, Frank.)
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Dennis Scearce - Feb 09,2018
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Great story, Dan. Perfect description of how to have an adventure without going anywhere. Folks keep asking me where I
go in 'your little plane'. I tell 'me anywhere I want to but mostly just 'up'.
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