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Splash and Dash Searey Seaplane Delights

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Posted By: Hal Brown

Date Posted: Aug 15, 2013

Description: With just a little rain and cool temperatures, it would be hard to wish for better weather for an air show. At the seaplane base, waves were mostly lightly to well rippled, except for some big afternoon swells.

Date Taken: Aug 15, 2013

Place Taken: Vette SPB, Oshkosh, WI

Owner: Dan Nickens

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Category: 532, Oshkosh 2013

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Dan Nickens - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	On the way back home, the Wabash River absolutely beamed in the morning sunshine, brim full of rain from recent storms.		Attachments: Refulgent River

Dan Nickens - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	A river runs by downtown on a quiet Sunday morning.		Attachments: Downtown Indy

Dan Nickens - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	A quick, cool refresher in the hills while on a long summer flight is worthwhile even when there is somewhere else to be.		Attachments: Splashing Break

Dan Nickens - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Dammed lake water snakes back into the old, deeply eroded stream valley on the Cumberland Plateau.		Attachments: Folded Lake

Dan Nickens - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Isolated by a dammed lake, one little rocky ridge still rises above the water. This is Rocky Top country.<br /><br />Rocky Top<br /><br />By Boudleaux and Felice Bryant<br />(As sung by the Osborne Brothers)<br /><br />Wish that I was on ole Rocky Top,<br />Down in the Tennessee hills.<br />Ain't no smoggy smoke on Rocky Top,<br />Ain't no telephone bills.<br /><br />Once there was a girl on Rocky Top,<br />Half bear the other half cat.<br />Wild as a mink, sweet as soda pop,<br />I still dream about that.<br /><br />(chorus)<br />Rocky Top, you'll always be<br />Home sweet home to me.<br />Good ole Rocky Top,<br />Rocky Top Tennessee, Rocky Top Tennessee.<br /><br />Once two strangers climbed on Rocky Top,<br />Lookin' for a moonshine still.<br />Strangers ain't come down from Rocky Top,<br />Guess they never will.<br /><br />Corn won't grow at all on Rocky Top,<br />Dirt's too rocky by far.<br />That's why all the folks on Rocky Top<br />Get’s their corn from a jar.<br /><br />(chorus)<br /><br />I've had years of cramped up city life,<br />Trapped like a duck in a pen.<br />All I know is it's a pity life<br />Can't be simple again.<br /><br />Rocky Top, you'll always be<br />Home sweet home to me.<br />Good ole Rocky Top,<br />Rocky Top Tennessee, Rocky Top Tennessee.<br /><br />The Tennessee legislature made Rocky Top the official state song in 1982. Boudleaux was from Georgia. Felice was from Milwaukee. Though Boudleaux was a classically trained violinist, the duo found early success in writing country songs. They also wrote many rock and roll classics, including “Bye Bye Love”, “Wake up Little Susie”, and “Love Hurts”. After leaving Nashville, they moved to Gatlinburg, TN and opened the Rocky Top Village Inn. <br />		Attachments: Little Ridge

Dan Nickens - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	A great place to explore the Cumberland Plateau and eroded sandstone cliffs…on foot, not so much by SeaRey.		Attachments: Rocky Way

Dan Nickens - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	An imprudent shortcut over bear country seemed like a good idea at the time. A short cut can get you there faster, if you live long enough to make it at all.		Attachments: Deep in the Smokies

Dan Nickens - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	A cool refuge in the middle of bear country.		Attachments: Mountain Refuge

Dan Nickens - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	The posted rules do not prohibit parking your airplane on the grass.<br /><br />It seemed a bit supermundane to stumble upon the Ten Commandments while flying over bear country. The adjacent airport could, however, easily be a stray SeaRey pilot’s earthly salvation under difficult circumstances.<br /><br />The Biblically based theme park is located on the mountain where A. J. Tomlinson conferenced with his God. A. J., a former Quaker working for the American Bible Society, had found a distressed group of speaking-in-tongue Pentecostals nearby while on a missionary mission. He walked up the mountain one June morning in 1903 and had a divine experience. After receiving his holy inspiration he came back down the mountain with a plan and proceeded to establish The Church of God of Prophecy (a name mandated by a court after a dispute with “The Church of God”). A. J.’s plan was based upon a strictly interpreted “whole Bible rightly divided”. The theme park was completed in 1945, after A. J. had flown away to a higher plane.<br />		Attachments: House Rules

Dan Nickens - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	A quick peek into the earth below ….but it was past time for looking out at the sky. Racing with a building storm front is usually a losing proposition in a SeaRey. But, what if where you end up isn’t important? A major deviation to the coast and overnight at St. Simons Island was not a bad outcome.		Attachments: Earth Window

Frank A. Carr - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Another great collection of places and photos. Thanks Dan.

Don Maxwell - Aug 15,2013 Viewers | Reply


	St. Simons isn't that much of a deviation from your bee line, Dan, and it's a great place to RON. Jekyl Island, just a few miles farther south, is even better if you have plenty of time. <br /><br />It's always been hard for me to remember that Orlando is about the same longitude as Cleveland. It seems more like it should be due south of New York City.

Dan Nickens - Aug 17,2013 Viewers | Reply


	The air is never so silky as in the aftermath of overnight storms.<br /><br />In an alternate reality, however, there was no easy morning after. There was only the darkness of a medically induced coma.<br /><br />As the tale is told in another reality, Diane was a hungry young pilotress. She had struggled against the tide of a male dominated fraternity to get her license. She had been persistent, finally hitting her stride in the tough club. Everyone that flew with her came away impressed with her deep knowledge of all things aeronautical, her confident way of teaching students, and her easy smile.<br /><br />Adam and Kerry were also impressed. Her small frame fit easily into a SeaRey, leaving ample load capacity for some of the bulky guys that wanted a demonstration of the plane’s capabilities. They were particularly pleased with the reception she got flying prospective customers at Oshkosh.<br /><br />It had been a long week of that, though. Diane was ready to get home to her husband and young daughter.<br /><br />Unfortunately demand for the airplane lasted deep into the afternoon. She got a late start. Though tempted to cover more ground towards home, she stopped shortly after dark. Flying over rough terrain at night was not a risk she was willing to take.<br /><br />Instead she got up early the next day. She plotted a direct course home.<br /><br />The weather briefer was not optimistic. “You’ve got a stalled front lying across southern Georgia. Widespread thunderstorms are expected during the afternoon and early evening hours.”<br /><br />Diane was a veteran southern flyer. She knew the odds were long against getting home through the forecast gauntlet of summer storms. With a sigh she resigned herself to yet another night in a hotel.<br /><br />She was so focused on storms that she didn’t notice the good fortune buried in the detailed briefing. She soon discovered, however, that a brisk tailwind was blowing her home a lot faster than a SeaRey should be flown. Throwing good gas mileage away, she cranked up the Rotax and speed home breaking roadway speed limits by almost double.<br /><br />She was crossing the Appalachians when the reality of southern summers bumped into her good fortune. The air was still blowing her homeward, but it had gotten bumpy. And the clouds were crowding in above, pushing her downwards towards the old hills.<br /><br />Still she soldiered on. The new SeaRey was more than up to the challenging air. She soon arrived at what she had expected to be her overnight stop.<br /><br />Out came her iPad. It showed green broccoli-like radar returns bursting out in widely scattered patches to the south. There was plenty of daylight left.<br /><br />She called home. “With a little luck I could be home just after sunset,” she told her husband.<br /><br />Anthony was normally patient with his wife’s uncertain schedule. “I hope so,” he replied with a trace of suppressed resentment. “I’m leaving the day after tomorrow for my business trip. Jennifer hasn’t been feeling well and has been asking for you. I hate to leave her in day care again.”<br /><br />“I know. Me too. I’ll get home if I can. It all depends on whether I can get around these storms.”<br /><br />His voice softened. “Don’t push it. We’ve gotten by all week. We can make it one more night.”<br /><br />Diane knew he was regretting his earlier tone. Anthony had been one of her biggest supporters, allowing her to pursue her home stressing profession with few complaints.<br /><br />Diane did a quick walk around the airplane. The SeaRey was perfect. It was almost new, with just enough hours to prove its reliability. It was outfitted with an electronic cockpit that would make any airline pilot feel at home. The iPad in the passenger seat was linked to radar. She had reason to think she could make it home if there was any opening between the storms.<br /><br />It was down around Plains, Georgia when the broccoli on her radar screen started turning yellow and bunching up. The isolated cells were growing and stretching out into a line along the old front. Still she wasn’t worried. All she had to do was deviate just a bit west of a direct line home, and she could get around the worst of it.<br /><br />As she got further south, however, the storms had begun to line up. As she flew along she watched as they began to flow northeast along the Florida Georgia line.<br /><br />Instead of distant colors on a computer screen, the storms had grown to fill her windscreen. Great billowing clouds grew black inside their towering masses. Rolling clouds spread out from the tops and bottoms. She began to see flickers of lightening along the dark gray edges.<br /><br />“If only I can get around to this break in the east,” she thought, “I’ll be able to double back on course. Worse case, I’ll stop for the night at Lake City.”<br /><br />She didn’t really want to do that. Lake City had a nice but quiet terminal. On a Sunday night, however, it wasn’t likely to be attended. It was a long cab ride to a hotel, and the return ride would surely mean a delayed departure the next day.<br /><br />The path she hoped to take quickly proved to be too dark for her liking. She turned east. “Maybe I can still get around by Waycross,” she told herself. “There’s another break there.”<br /><br />When she got to Waycross the way south did look a little brighter. The iPad showed a corridor between two massive cells that would get her across the state line. She turned south.<br /><br />The ride was really bumpy. She was flying through a canyon with sheer walls tens of thousands of feet deep. A nearby flash of lightening made her jump.<br /><br />She shook her head. “Just the leading edge of the storm,” she told herself. “It will be better on the back side.”<br /><br />The way ahead was hazy. After five minutes it was noticeably darker. She searched for a lighter patch. Overhead gray cloud tendrils reached out over her canopy. Instinctively she descended towards the vast green swamp below.<br /><br />She was as low as she wanted to go. Just a mere thousand feet over the trackless swamp was close enough for her. The enveloping clouds made the approach of evening seem ever more imminent.<br /><br />Out of the haze a solid wall of gray suddenly appeared. A quick glance at her iPad confirmed what she feared: the southern door of her corridor was now closed.<br /><br />That was it. Any hope of getting home tonight was done. She shrugged. Such are the vagaries of relying on delayed radar reports. What wasn’t there a second ago can turn into a virtual barrier with the next data update. She turned back to the north.<br /><br />She hadn’t gone far before noting that the new update also showed the northern door closing. The two cells were merging. She had flown herself into a hole.<br /><br />Diane wasn’t one to hesitate. She quickly evaluated the alternatives. While the swamp below had some open prairies, it was mostly a dismal place thick with mangrove. It was not a place she wanted to wait out the night.<br /><br />Though the way south was now filled with rain, the radar on her iPad showed it was mostly green, with just a smattering of yellow stuff. That looked like the best of the bad alternatives. She turned southeast and pointed the SeaRey towards the greenest part of the imagery.<br /><br />It was quickly clear that she would have to go lower. Her 1000’ minimum altitude was quickly compromised. She soon found herself down to 400’. She made a little joke with herself: “At least there are no towers in the swamp.” At least none that showed on her synthetic terrain view.<br /><br />Then the rain started. It was only gentle for the briefest moment, then it unloaded a flood on her windscreen. She couldn’t see ahead. She could barely see down.<br /><br />“Focus!” she told herself. “Focus on flying. It’s all about the instruments now. I can do that.”<br /><br />And she could. She was proficient in flying on instruments, and the SeaRey had them all. She turned her attention on maintaining altitude in the increasingly riotous air.<br /><br />With no warning the airplane was hit with wrecking ball. In unbelief Diane’s mind registered an impossible sink rate. Instinctively she pulled the stick hard aft to climb.<br /><br />The drop didn’t stop. “This makes no sense! That can’t be right!” She stole a quick glance outside. Trees were rushing towards her. Her last thought was, “Microsburst!” Then she was in the trees.<br /><br />It was dark, after 9, when Anthony started to wonder. He should have heard from Diane. She always called when she landed. “Well, not always,” he decided. “Sometimes she waits until she’s checked into the hotel.”<br /><br />By 10 o’clock the baby was in bed and Anthony knew something wasn’t right. Diane always called to talk to her daughter before bedtime. He was irritated by her lack of consideration this night. He went to his computer and checked her Spot tracker account. It took a few minutes to bring up the track on Google earth. The track stopped in the Okefenokee Swamp. The last position was hours past.<br /><br />He froze. That couldn’t be right. There was no airport nearby. His mind swirled. It was probably just a minor thing. Maybe the tracker had run out of battery power. Maybe it had fallen into the floor. That had all happened before. It was probably okay. He knew Diane could take care of herself in most any circumstance. She was golden in the air. She wouldn’t be happy if he panicked over something as silly as her losing her phone.<br /><br />Then an image of her not in the air flashed into his consciousness. His long suppressed fear of her flying flooded in unbidden. He was shaking, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do.<br /><br />He slammed his fist on the desk. “Damn her! She never told me what to do if she didn’t call!” The anger was just a flash. He had to find her. He had to figure out someone to call.<br /><br />His fear took over. He just knew it was an emergency. He grabbed the phone and called 911.<br /><br />“Emergency operator. What’s your emergency?”<br /><br />“Uh, I haven’t heard from my wife. She was flying home and she hasn’t called.”<br /><br />“Yes sir. Have you checked with the airline to see if the flight has been delayed?”<br /><br />“There’s no airline. She’s flying a little plane.”<br /><br />“Okay. When was she scheduled to return, sir?”<br /><br />“Umm, well, she didn’t know for sure. She should have checked in before dark. I haven’t heard from her in hours.”<br /><br />“Okay, have you contacted the local airport?”<br /><br />Anthony was starting to lose it. “There is no airport! She is flying a seaplane!”<br /><br />“Please keep calm, sir. You say she is flying a seaplane? Where does she normally land it?”<br /><br />“The airplane stays on a lake. It’s owned by the company. There’s no one there to call.”<br /><br />“Maybe you should call the FAA, sir.”<br /><br />“The FAA? They won’t know where she is.”<br /><br />“Maybe they can find her on radar.”<br /><br />Words spilled out rapidly. “You don’t understand. It’s a little plane. She doesn’t talk to anyone when she flies it. She has GPS tracking. It shows she was over a swamp. That’s the last thing it shows. The FAA doesn’t know.”<br /><br />“Okay. Where is this swamp?”<br /><br />“It’s in Georgia. I’ve got a map on my computer.”<br /><br />“Well, Georgia is not in our jurisdiction. You need to contact someone there.”<br /><br />Now Anthony was furious. “How can I do that? I don’t know anyone to call. You call someone! Do it now!”<br /><br />“Okay, please calm down. Hold the line. I’ll check with my supervisor.”<br /><br />Anthony paced with the phone, nightmare scenarios racing through his mind. It seemed forever until another disembodied voice came on the phone.<br /><br />“I understand that you are reporting a missing or overdue aircraft. Is that right, sir?”<br /><br />“Yes! My wife is missing. I should have heard from her a long time ago.”<br /><br />“Okay, sir. I’m a local emergency response operator. I can put you in touch with the aircraft Rescue Coordination Center. Are you ready to copy a telephone number?”<br /><br />“I need to call someone else? But this is an emergency!”<br /><br />“Yes sir. You’ll need to call a Rescue Coordination Center and report the aircraft missing. The nearest center is in Miami.”<br /><br />“But she could be in Georgia!”<br /><br />“Yes, that’s okay. The Miami Center can coordinate a search for missing aircraft there. Are you ready to copy the number?”<br /><br />Anthony scribbled the number, hung up and called it. He gave what little information he had. The response seemed so meager and hopeless. There was no comfort in the long, long night.<br /><br />There was no comfort in the airplane wreckage either. In her few moments of consciousness Diane was only aware of pain and darkness. She only woke briefly in daylight as a rescuer was pulling wreckage away.<br /><br />It would be days before she would awake from her long drug induced sleep. When she did, she awoke to a darkened hospital room with Anthony beside her. Outside another beautiful summer day was breaking in a universe where a miraculous rescue had reunited the pilot, her husband and child.<br />		Attachments: Quiet Morning

Dan Nickens - Aug 17,2013 Viewers | Reply


	FLIGHT PLAN AVERAGE TIME FROM LAST KNOWN POSITION TO RESCUE <br /><br />Functioning ELT, 6 hours 48 minutes<br /><br />Instrument Flight Rules (IFR), 13 hours 6 minutes <br /><br />Visual Flight Rules (VFR), 37 Hours 18 minutes <br /><br />No Flight Plan, 42 hours 24 minutes <br /><br />The average time from the last known position (LKP) to rescue is 31 hours.<br /><br />All SAR activities in the contiguous 48 states are coordinated through the full-time Air Force Rescue Coordination Center (AFRCC) at Scott Air Force Base, Illinois. When a call on a missing or overdue aircraft is received by the Center, the National SAR Plan is activated. The National SAR plan designates the U.S. Coast Guard as responsible for maritime SAR and the U.S. Air Force for inland SAR.<br /><br />Search Process<br /><br />Uncertainty. The Information Request (INREQ) is initiated. The Federal Aviation Administration and the Air Force Rescue Coordination Center conduct a Preliminary Communications (PRECOM) search. Because of the high rate of false alarms, this phase is designed to determine if an aircraft is really missing or if a crew neglected to close their flight plan. If the PRECOM comes up negative, then the next phase is activated. <br /><br />Alert or Alert Notice (ALNOT). The ALNOT will be issued at the end of the INREQ or when the estimated time that the missing aircraft's fuel would be exhausted or when there is serious concern regarding the safety of the aircraft and its occupants. <br /><br />At this phase, the destination airport checks all ramps and hangers to locate the aircraft. Local law enforcement agencies in the search area are notified and all information is sent to the AFRCC. If the ALNOT fails to find the aircraft, then the final phase is activated. <br /><br />Distress. At this point, the actual search mission is launched. Air search efforts will not begin until first daylight unless there is a functioning ELT alerting a ground rescue party; if the weather permits, air rescue is dispatched to the distress location. Even with an ELT, terrain and weather may hinder response time. Chances are good of spending at least one night as a survivor. <br /><br />It is very important to ensure that your aircraft's electronic locator transmitter (ELT) is in good operating condition. The average time required to find a downed aircraft with a functioning ELT is 6.8 hours. Compare that time to 40.7 hours without an operating ELT and the benefits of properly maintaining emergency equipment become obvious. <br /><br /><br />U.S. National Search & Rescue Plan<br /> <br />To carry out the plan, the U.S. Coast Guard and U.S. Air Force have established Rescue Coordination Centers (RCCs) to direct SAR activities within their Regions.<br /> <br />Boston, MA Cleveland, OH<br />617-233-3644 216-522-3984<br /> <br />New York, NY St. Louis, MO<br />212-668-7055 314-425-4614<br /> <br />Portsmouth, VA Long Beach, CA<br />804-398-6231 213-590-2225<br /> <br />Miami, Fl San Francisco, CA<br />305-536-5611 415-437-3700<br /> <br />New Orleans, LA Seattle, WA<br />504-580-6225 206-442-5886<br /> <br />Juneau, AK Honolulu, HI<br />907-586-7340 808-546-7109<br /> <br />Kodiak, AK San Juan, PR<br />907-487-5888 809-722-2943<br /><br /><br />Source: Search and Rescue, Rogers V. Shaw II, FAA Aviation News. Mr. Shaw is manager of the Civil Aerospace Medical Institute's (CAMI) Airman Education Program. See <a href="http://www.faa.gov/pilots/training/airman_education/">http://www.faa.gov/pilots/training/airman_education/</a><br />

Don Maxwell - Aug 18,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Good yarn, Dan. Is Diane a projection of worries about your own trip south from Oshkosh?<br /><br />The ELT advice is certainly good--although the new 406 mHz response time is probably a lot shorter than the 121.5 mHz time.<br /><br />But what's the average rescue time for an operating iPhone with the Find My iPhone and Find Friends apps? <br /><br />(It's almost instantaneous with cell service. But it may be an eternity if there's no cell service where the iPhone happens to fetch up--although it ought to be easy enough for SAR to carry a mobile cellphone relay.)<br /><br />And of course there's also the possibility that a PLB is on board and activated.

Dan Nickens - Aug 18,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Well, Don, I was there, but in a different reality. I had none of Diane's urgency to my flight (and I certainly didn't think that the tailwind was good fortune). I did, however, have a privileged perch to watch as the storm cells expanded and merged quicker than even the fastest SeaRey could fly. I flew echelon left to the storms until I ran out of land and daylight at St. Simons Island.

Kenneth Leonard - Aug 18,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Great story to emphasize great info Dan. FYI, St. Simons is where I got myself into IFR while still over the runway but could see clearly for 5 plus miles on the deck and lots of blue sky all around the airport. <br /><br />Don - you have to presume your iPhone gets wet, bent or battery dies soon after accident and out of range. For the survivable crashes in Seareys, the vast majority (almost exclusively) have been in water where the ELT usefulness is highly questionable. Has there ever been an ELT find for a Searey? I'll take my PLB any day. (yes, it requires at least momentary consciousness - but it's attached to my body)<br />I suppose I will put the emergency contact numbers - including Progressive Aerodyne, in our family emergency binder. (you Floridians have one of those with a hurricane evac checklist custom made for your family, right?)

Don Maxwell - Aug 18,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Ken, I distrust the PLB least. I mentioned the Find My Friends app because it's an interesting alternative and comes free with every iPhone.<br /><br />But you're right about the vulnerability of phones. I learned about wet phones the hard way, so now I usually keep mine in a transparent drybag, either on a lanyard around my neck or in a pocket of my PFD. The exception is when I'm using it to check the radar, but it does that well in the drybag. (Ziloc bags, by the way, are great for keeping water IN; not so great at keeping it out. The secret is to get all of the air out and use the double-lock bags.)<br /><br />I don't count on the ELT to go off. But mine has headset jacks and functions as a portable radio.

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Sand is overwhelming beach stabilizing vegetation in this reality. Check back after the next big storm for a different possibility.		Attachments: Creeping Sand

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Two palm trees standing alone in the Sahara desert? Not really. Just a deserted beach.		Attachments: Desert Palms

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Someone has been drawing lines in the sand.		Attachments: Beach Ridge

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Fort Clinch is particularly well preserved, probably because it wasn’t involved in any major battles. It was not called to action when it was an effective fortress. Later, when brick walls crumbled before better cannon, its defenders simply abandoned the fragile target whenever it was threatened. It is quiet now, but the old brick walls may yet have tales to tell.<br /><br />One beautiful summer morning a SeaRey came skimming down the beach, as SeaReys are oft wont to do. The old fort’s walls were a natural attractant for aerial gawking. Figuring that it was early enough that there was no one guarding the fort, Barry swung the little seaplane around at flag height for a close look.<br /><br />Clearing the walls with a foot or more to spare, Barry was surprised to see a group of a dozen or more men in the courtyard. He jerked the stick back to give them some room hoping to get away before they could spot his registration numbers. Climbing at max power, he glanced back to see if he might have escaped detection.<br /><br />He saw someone pointing at him. “Uh, oh!” He figured he was busted.<br /><br />His first instinct was to slink away down the coast. He was headed that way when he replayed the event, this time recalling the guns.<br /><br />Barry was a bit of a gun nut. His quick glance was enough to tell him some of the figures he saw were carrying automatic weapons.<br /><br />“Machine guns? In the old fort? What’s the military doing there these days?” he thought. That didn’t make sense, though, because he didn’t remember anyone in uniform holding a gun. There were some people in uniform, he remembered, but they were all standing inside of a circle of the ones carrying guns.<br /><br />Something just didn’t feel right about what he had seen. “Maybe I’ll just go back at take a peek again,” he mumbled. That was quickly answered by the rational part of his brain saying he needed to make good his getaway.<br /><br />Barry wasn’t used to being dictated to by reason. He sharply turned the SeaRey back towards the fort. This time, however, he decided to put a bit of prudent height between him and the fort. Rationalizing away his worry about being busted, he decided on a direct over flight. That way they couldn’t see his registration numbers.<br /><br />Checking the courtyard it took Barry only a moment to see it had changed. The park rangers in brown uniforms were being pushed into the old barracks. Other casually clad men were at work setting up a rocket on one of the turrets.<br /><br />What Barry didn’t notice was that some of the gunmen were pointing at him. They got his attention, however, with the twinkling of muzzle flashes. The air around him sizzled with bullets. Even over the drone of his engine he could hear thumps as holes opened in his port wing.<br /><br />There was a moment of disbelief. That was followed immediately by full throttle and a radical turn away from the gun fire. He dived down towards the river awash in a rush of adrenaline. He continued pushing the stick and throttle forward until he was inches over the water with wind screaming though the cockpit.<br /><br />There was no slowing or other thought until he saw the reed covered river bank filling his windscreen. He jerked the stick back into a high g climb. Barry leveled out a hundred feet over the land, rocketing away from the fort to the northwest.<br /><br />As the seconds went by and he was still flying, the trembling started. He reduced power and grabbed the stick with both hands to prevent the airplane from buffeting in his unsteady hands.<br /><br />Barry began to take stock of his situation. The engine was producing steady power. The holes in the wings weren’t growing. He didn’t feel any pain. The gunmen had missed him.<br /><br />He stole a glance at the GPS to see where he was. To his horror he saw he was flying into the Prohibited Area of the nuclear sub base at St. Marys. Another radical turn and he was headed back to the Atlantic Ocean.<br /><br />Barry’s mind was swirling. How bad was the airplane damage? Why would anyone be shooting at him from the fort? What had he done so wrong that anyone would try to shoot him down? A buzz job, sure, but that didn’t usually carry a death penalty!<br /><br />Then he thought of the sub base. He had crossed into prohibited airspace. Maybe the Navy was shooting at him! No, he was outside their airspace when he was attacked. “There is no damned reason anyone should be trying to kill me!” he emphatically concluded.<br /><br />No sooner had he thought of the sub base, he spotted the sinister sleek black bulk of a nuclear sub moving relentlessly towards the St. Mary’s channel. The intimidating sight made him forget his anger over being attacked. The barely contained force manifested by the sub easily overwhelmed any concern about the automatic weapons in the fort.<br /><br />It didn’t escape Barry’s notice that the SeaRey was streaking directly towards the sub at low altitude. His mind raced thinking of whether he was violating some kind of Homeland Security flight restriction by doing that. He couldn’t think of any, but he quickly turned away anyway.<br /><br />The fort reappeared in his windscreen. Reflexively he banked away to a middle path splitting the difference between the submarine and the fort. Barry decided the most important thing in his life was to put as much distance between the two menaces as quickly as possible.<br /><br />After a minute or two of nothing but sandy beach and blue sky ahead, his pulse began to slow. He let out a long, slow breath. “What the heck just happened?” he asked of no one. His mentally replayed the sequence of events, this time in slow motion.<br /><br />That’s when the thought struck him: “What were those guys in the fort doing with a rocket?”<br /><br />“A rocket? Or a missile? What’s the difference anyway? Hey! Wait! A missile in the fort and a nuclear sub coming right past it? That can’t be good!” Then he recalled the recent national news warning of a pending terrorist threat.<br /><br />“Uh, oh.”<br /><br />He turned and stared at the bullet holes in his wing. A chill ran through him.<br /><br />“Oh, no. That’s just crazy. That couldn’t happen.”<br /><br />The reality of the bullet holes convinced him that it could.<br /><br />His first thought was to get as far away as he could. It wouldn’t be prudent to be in any neighborhood where there was a pending attack on a nuclear sub. If he wasn’t collateral damage he would certainly be a subject of great scrutiny in the aftermath.<br /><br />The problem, Barry decided, was that he was already deep in it. If he ran some government guys would still find him. They were probably tracking him now. There was no easy way out. He reached over and turned off his transponder, just in case.<br /><br />Thinking about it from another angle, he imagined the terrible surprise awaiting the guys in the submarine. He yelled out loud: “It’s not my problem, man!” But he knew he couldn’t just let the terrorists have their day. But surely the navy guys could handle them. Could a little terrorist missile really do any damage to that massive ship anyway? Then he remembered how close the submarine would pass by the fort. It would not be good.<br /><br />Barry grimly decided he had to do something. He turned the SeaRey back around.<br /><br />“Now, what to do? Maybe I can just call someone on the radio?” Those thoughts were quashed as he realized how fast the sub was approaching the inlet. There were only minutes until the submarine was abeam the fort. There was no one he could call to stop it in time.<br /><br />His mind was racing: “No choice. I’m going to have to warn them myself. No way to call them. Wait! I’ll just start broadcasting on the emergency channel. They may not have aviation frequencies, but someone will hear.<br /><br />Not that it will make any difference. Jeez! They’re almost at the entrance now!<br /><br />No, I’ll have to do something else.<br /><br />Okay, okay, okay, can’t get too close to the fort. I’m not going to get shot again. No way, JosU.<br /><br />What can I do? Maybe they’ll stop if I start circling them and waving.”<br /><br />As Barry dove towards the sub he fumbled with the radio, changing the frequency to 121.5. He yelled, “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! There are terrorists with a missile at St. Mary’s! Stop! Somebody has to stop the sub!”<br /><br />He got a long, slowly drawled response: “Calling Mayday, this is United 231. State the nature of your emergency again, please.”<br /><br />Time for talking was over for Barry. He was rapidly closing on the sub. He could see three sailors on top of the submarine sail. They were all looking right at him. Barry ignored the squawking on the radio and focused on the sub.<br /><br />The flash of red light was impossibly bright. All he could see was red. He knew the SeaRey was diving towards the sub, but he couldn’t see it anymore.<br /><br />All he could think of was to turn away. He turned out to sea.<br /><br />The light immediately vanished, leaving an open ocean in the windscreen filled with thousands of red polka dots.<br /><br />Barry shook his head to try and clear his eyes. The red dots were slowly vanishing. He turned back north. The sub was still making for port.<br /><br />With teeth gritted and eyes squinted against another visual assault, Barry turned back towards the sub. He didn’t make directly for it, instead he offset from it by several hundreds yard to its starboard.<br /><br />The red light came again, but he was ready. He didn’t look at the sub. He focused ahead. Only his left eye was blinded in red.<br /><br />He was descending so he was only 50’ above the water as he passed the sub and turned towards the inlet. His initial impression of what happened next was that someone had turned on a gigantic heater. It was suddenly unbearably hot. His skin felt like it was burning off.<br /><br />Screaming in pain, he chopped the power and pushed his airplane towards the cool water. He hit and bounced. It was all he could do to hold her level as he bounced wave to wave. Then he couldn’t hold it any more. The little SeaRey slammed into a wave sideways, rapidly swerving and collapsing the right wing float.<br /><br />The burning pain was so intense all Barry could think of was to get into the cool water just outside the cockpit. He snatched off his seatbelt, stood up in the seat and jumped in.<br /><br />Barry gasped for breath, sucking in seawater, then coughing it back out. Relief from the heat was immediate. The burning stopped, leaving only the lingering pain of a really bad sunburn.<br /><br />As he treaded water trying to keep his head up, Barry’s one good eye spotted the circling SeaRey. It had turned back towards him, threatening to run him over. He ducked underwater as the left wing float sailed over his head. Barry started back peddling as fast as he could.<br /><br />There was a roar from the direction of the fort. Barry turned to watch as a missile blasted from the wall. It seemed headed directly for him.<br /><br />The launch was followed almost instantly with a blinding flash. The missile exploded in mid air right over the inlet. The concussion knocked Barry like a bat to his head. He didn’t notice the hot metal shrapnel pummeling the water. He couldn’t move. He was slowly slipping under.<br /><br />Then Barry felt himself being lifted from the water. He was pulled over the rubber gunwale of an inflatable boat and dropped onto the wet floor. With his one good eye he spotted three huge marines with automatic weapons aimed at him.<br /><br />“This is not turning out to be such a good morning,” he mumbled.<br /><br />“It could get a lot worse,” one of the marines snapped back.<br /><br />“Yeah, I’m guessing it will,” Barry replied. “What now?”<br /><br />“You are a prisoner of the USS Florida.”<br /><br />“A prisoner? For what?”<br /><br />“For attacking the sub.”<br /><br />“Attacking? I was trying to save you guys from that missile.”<br /><br />“Right. Tell it to the captain.”<br /><br />“Are you guys crazy? Look at my airplane! There are bullet holes in it. And what was that red light? It burned me and I crash landed.”<br /><br />“That was a warning you chose to ignore at your peril. ”<br /><br />Fast, black boats appeared in the channel. Some turned towards the fort. Others headed for the sub’s inflatable.<br /><br />“Hey! Are those guys going to the fort? There are bad guys in there with automatic weapons!”<br /><br />“There are bad guys with automatic weapons in those boats. They will take care of the fort.”<br /><br />“But I saw park rangers in there too!”<br /><br />“The shore patrol will sort it out. You’re coming with us.”<br /><br />“What about my airplane?” Barry pleaded, pointing at it.<br /><br />The lead sailor just shook his head. “Looks like it’s going to be salvage.”<br /><br />Barry fell back into the bottom of the boat and closed his eyes. He had seen all he wanted to see.<br /><br />It didn’t turn out as bad as he feared. The directed energy pulse weapon he had been hit with only cooked him a little. It cooked the missile a lot. The marines managed to capture his airplane as evidence and pull it into port.<br /><br />After two days of nonstop talking Barry was eventually released to the custody of his wife. It was two months before he was able to reclaim his SeaRey. By then it had sat on a dock, soaked in salt. It would be another two months before it would fly again. That was okay, because it took that long to get his pilot’s license back from the FAA guys.<br /><br />The FAA guys were unsympathetic. “We could keep your license. We’re willing to let this go this time if we don’t hear any more from you.” Barry signed stacks of papers indicating he wouldn’t hold the government responsible for any damages. He swore to never disclose anything about the “regrettable incident”.<br /><br />Of course the government guys couldn’t hide everything from the news media. The park rangers spilled their story to reporters after the marines rescued them. Some of them mentioned that the terrorists had also used a small airplane. The government disinformation specialists would neither confirm nor deny their claims.<br /><br />Though not a student of philosophy, Barry literally adopted Nietzche’s contention in Thus Spoke Zarathusra: “The higher we soar the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly” (Barry’s corollary being that smaller means less target area). And, that’s why, to this very day, Barry never, ever flies low over military installations, even if they are just old forts.<br />		Attachments: Fernandino Fortress

Don Maxwell - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Gee, Dan, nobody has ever shot at me for flying low over that old fort. The sub base does look daunting, though.

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	The ocean breaks in. It’s relentless		Attachments: Breached Beach

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Naturally square owners?		Attachments: Beach Blocks

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Well rounded owners?		Attachments: Rounded at Beach

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Old rocky shells, sand and surf.		Attachments: Coquina Beach

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	There seems to be an unending supply of waves, shells and sand. Although sometimes the sea takes the sand and beach goers have to pay to pump it back.		Attachments: Wash and Dry

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Grassy spots in the backwater of the St. Johns River.		Attachments: Grassy Islands

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	The good old St. Johns River. Nearly home now.		Attachments: Quiet River

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


The approach to SeaRey Central looked like a war zone. The Blue Rhino propane filling plant blew up and burned while I was away at Oshkosh. Some 50,000 propane cylinders were involved. Ann watched it burn across the lake from our back porch late at night. She said the fireworks were impressive.	Attachments: Crazy eye in the sky Ground Level View	Attachments: Blast Zone

Don Maxwell - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	Zowie! That is impressive, especially the Crazy Eye one!

Dan Nickens - Aug 20,2013 Viewers | Reply


	I wonder if the chopper pilot realized that there were two massive filling tanks within a few feet of the fire. Fortunately they didn't get involved.

Dan Nickens - Aug 19,2013 Viewers | Reply


	SeaRey Central!		Attachments: Back to the Beginning

Don Maxwell - Aug 20,2013 Viewers | Reply


	This is a view that every SeaRey builder really ought to see at least once from his or her own airplane.

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