Sunday in Beaune

September 20 -- Our full first morning in France was sunny and bright.  Thanks to Dick getting up early and exploring Pommard, we had fresh, warm croissants from the la boulangerie artisanale in the village.

Because we needed to stock the refrigerator, we drove off in search of a hypermarché that might be open on Sunday morning.  Unfortunately, the two we tried first were both closed for Sunday.  There may have been another nearby that was open for a few hours, but we never found it.  We did however get some air in the right front tire on the car because the dashboard indicated we needed air.  This is a pretty smart car.

Wood carved door

We decided to make the best of the day by heading into the Beaune city center and exploring.  Beaune has a ring road that circles about where the old city walls used to be, and we were able to find parking there. We walked toward what we thought might be the center of town, and soon came upon a large church, the Collégiale Basilique Notre-Dame.  It dates from
the 13th century and features a style described as Burgundian Romanesque. It also has some Gothic additions and a Renaissance bell tower.

We continued along and soon hit the central market area and the Gothic facade of L’Hôtel-Dieu, also called the The Hospices de Beaune.  This was a charitable almshouse founded in 1443 by Nicolas Rolin, chancellor of Burgundy, as a hospital for the poor.  The facade is a superior example of Northern Renaissance civic architecture and there is a treasure trove of panel paintings, with numerous portraits of Rolin, his wife and

members of his extended family. 

This was our first introduction to the multi-colored roof tiles that are so typical of Burgundy. We paid for the tour with the audio guide and spent a good while marveling at the architecture -- a pair of  very large two-storied buildings arranged around a stone courtyard. Amazingly, it continued to operate as a hospital for the poor from the 15th century until the 1970's.

We had lunch in the open air at a simple restaurant in the old city area after some map reading and decision making.  We even changed from one restaurant to another when the waiter said it would be a half hour before our food arrived. (At least we think that's what he was saying.)  As proof that even the simplest meal is an experience, we had snails, jambon perseille, and beef bourginogne.  The Pommard wine was good, but this also was our first introduction to the fact that a wine found in a restaurant may not be found later in the hypermarché or any other store.  It was of course a Sunday in France, and few if any stores were open.  We walked around the city ramparts for the views and eventually returned to our car. 







On the way out of town, returning to Pommard, we passed Edmond Fallot's famous center of the mustard arts, La Moutarderie.  This place is to the dégustation of  mustard what a cave is to wine.  They offer a tour of the facilities, a vast selection of mustards from Burgundy and beyond, as well as tasting opportunities.  So extraordinary is it that the New York Times wrote up the experience.



Having lunched in the city, we made a light supper of cheese and salade.

Off to France in the Fall

September 18-19 -- We departed Dulles just a little late, after an hour or so relaxing in the Air France lounge before our Iceland Air flight took off. There was a quick transfer in Reykjavik the next morning, and then on to Aéroport de Paris-Charles-de-Gaulle.  We quickly found Faye and Dick waiting not far from the Budget rent-a-car counter. Before too long we had taken possession of our Renault Scenic, a fairly roomy sedan with a good baggage space.  It's has a small gasoline engine that shuts off when you stop and put the gearshift in neutral. Also, there are very handy sensors on every corner which always let you know when you're close to shrubbery, curbs or walls.

Chateauneuf from the A6

We're soon off to Pommard from CDG, driving down the A5 toward Lyon and on to Beaune via the A6, a distance of about 350 kilometers. We passed the photogenic hilltop castle of Chateauneuf, to which we would return later in the week. 


In about three hours, as it got close to 6 p.m., we arrived in Pommard and found our villa in the village at 11 Rue de Carmots. With two bedrooms and two baths, as well as a large main floor, this was the shop of local respected winemaker Jean Michelot, whose family has lived in Pommard since the 1600’s. The family made, stored and sold wine here and the now modernized house is decorated in a tasteful, simple country style.  There are good views of the famous Pommard vineyards from the windows and from the rooftop patio. 

11 Rue de Carmots

Having nothing much in the pantry, we went for a walk around town.  Marcia had already discovered that Pommard features one of the finest restaurants in the area, the Auprès du Clocher in the street near the church's clock tower.  We had local wines (the Premier Cru Clos Micault) and the menu proposed by chef Jean-Christophe Moutet, -- a fabulous choice all around.  Marcia has since posted a review on Trip Advisor.

Vineyard view from the rooftop terrace

"There Is No Reason To Fly Through A Thunderstorm in Peacetime"

That's on a sign over squadron ops desk at Davis-Monthan AFB, in Arizona in 1970. This photograph was actually taken by a storm chaser in 2014. 

Marko Korošec’s apocalyptic photo of a storm cloud near Julesburg, Colorado, was selected as the Grand Prize winner by National Geographic Traveler.  As NGT director of photography Dan Westergren said: “This winning photo of a supercell over the plains of eastern Colorado stopped the judges in our tracks.

“What makes the picture particularly strong is that except for the cloud, the rest of the scene is quite ordinary. The crazy UFO-looking shape gives the impression that it’s going to suck up the landscape like a tablecloth into a vacuum cleaner. The unresolved tension in the image makes me want to look at it over and over.”

Still, it's a good reminder to all pilots to avoid thunderstorms at all costs.

The End of 2014

It was in many respects a year of challenges, and I'm not sorry to see 2014 slide into the rear view mirror.

We've been at home a lot lately, and not "getting out much," so we thought we might as well leave cold northern Virginia and visit Charleston SC during the period between Christmas and New Years.  It was planned as a little four-day, three-night break, and of course a reason to use the airplane.  I was hoping for some really warm weather.

Jasmine House Inn

Commodore Room

So we loaded up the plane on Sunday morning, and flew in nice clear weather -- but  against a headwind -- for almost three hours.  About 500 miles, or ten hours worth of driving on I-95.  Landing at Charleston Executive Airport, we got a taxi into town and evaded the rental car dilemma, which is really a parking dilemma.  Old city centers are not made for modern traffic.  Our inn was Jasmine

House, a large stately structure with a front porch parallel to the street in the center of the historic district.  Our room was very large, with a fireplace and a large bathroom attached.  There were plantation shutters on the windows, but the dark wallpaper made it a bit gloomy unless you opened every shutter.

 Of course we had to stop in at Grady's favorite men's clothing store, Ben Silver, at 149 King Street in the heart of downtown.  The shop was in fact a little smaller than I imagined it to be, but the clerk told me they do most of their business through the catalog.  She also admitted, a little sheepishly, that they do not have a London store as their logo proclaims.  They once had a warehouse in London.

 

We'd never been to Charleston before, and we of course found true what everyone says:  that Charleston is a great city to visit and walk
around, with lots of well preserved Revolutionary War and 1800's houses in the historic district.  We no sooner left our hotel than we came to Market Street, where a large yellow Market Hall  dominates the scene.  It is a Greek Revival-style building consisting of one raised story resting atop a rusticated open ground-level arcade.  Today it says something about the Daughters of the Confederacy accross the front.  People were selling baskets made from saw grass as well as found antiques and okra. The arcade went on for blocks with all manner of handicrafts and a certain amount of tourist schlock.

Okra

We spent most of our first full day just walking and looking, with guidebook and camera in hand.  There were lots of hired walking guides giving tours, as well as the horse drawn carriages each with a guide, but we opted for the DIY version.   You could look around, poke into gardens behind the iron fences, or look over the walls, and the city has a very placid feeling.

Charleston is famous for the homes in the historic the district, defined as "An area roughly bounded by Broad, Bay, S. Battery and Ashley and an area along Church bounded by Cumberland and Chalmers."  Many of the houses narrow on the street footage side, but deep with porches set well above ground level.  Often the porches are accessed only from within the house.

 The town is full of churches too, many dating to the 1600's and often being the first church of a given denomination in what is today's United States.  Here is St. Michael's, the oldest surviving religious structure in Charleston, South Carolina. It is located at Broad and Meeting streets on one of the Four Corners of Law, and represents ecclesiastical law.  The cemetery across from the church had many distinguished South Carolinians buried there.  We also saw the first Scots Presbyterians, first Baptists, first Unitarians, etc.

On many streets houses featured a block on which you could step in order to get astride your horse.  Frequently there was a hitching post nearby for parking your horse.  I kind of wonder if they towed horses that were illegally parked, or maybe that's a characteristic of Southern hospitality that has only recently come into vogue?

Pink House oldest in city

We enjoyed some very fine dining in the famed "Low Country cuisine" restaurants.  In the evenings we ate at Hank's Seafood, FIG, and Magnolias.  While all were excellent, I'd rank them in that order too. There was shopping also, but with the exception of the Ben Silver store (which I just had to see for myself), we avoided going into most of the many clothing, art, antiques, and shoe stores.  We did the National Park Service tour of Fort Sumter -- it turns out to be rather small and unimpressive for a place that started such a big, long, and costly war.  But I learned a lot of history, which usually happens when I get near those park rangers.

Fort Sumter

 The only downside was the weather.  It was beautiful and sunny (72° F) when we arrived on Sunday, but Monday and Tuesday were grey and gloomy, including some light rains.  In fact, few things can be colder than Ft. Sumter in a stiff 40 degree breeze at 4 p.m.  The folks at Charleston Executive Airport were very helpful and got us a taxi into town so that we never even had
a rental car.  We did have  great view of Charleston on departure from KJZI.

If you're really curious, here's a link to several reviews Marcia wrote on Trip Advisor about the places we went and saw -- http://www.tripadvisor.com/members-citypage/TourTroll/g54171

Charleston, SC out the left side as we departed on New Year's Eve

USA v. Portugal

Sunday was the day for World Cup game between USA and Portugal, and the preparations were underway before noon at Reston Town Center.

We invited Marinn and Case to join us for lunch (Darren was playing golf in Triangle Virginia), so they came over about 11 o'clock.  Case of course immediate went for the toys -- he really likes that train that spells his name, although I believe a spell-checker feature should be included in future such train sets.

We had "brunch" at Jackson's Mighty Fine Food and Lucky Lounge in the Town Center because it was easy to walk too, child friendly, and opened at 11 a.m.

Afterwards, we walked back up Democracy Drive to the pavilion where preparations were underway for the World Cup watching.  Case was not much interested in the soccer games that were showing on big screens at either end of the pavilion by the fountain, but he sure liked the free samples of fruit and vegetable juice they were offering.

There were several booths sponsored by DC United, the local professional soccer team.  They are trying to drum up support for the construction (and financing) of a new stadium in Washington.  This World Cup event may have been tied in to that. Or maybe it was just a way to attract people to Reston Town Center. We never got to investigate the booth selling team jerseys and other fan paraphernalia.

In any case, there was a Leidos-sponsored booth where you could festoon yourself in U.S. patriotic colors and flags and have your picture taken.  Here's the result:

Well, that's actually my picture of the three of them.  But, I think it is better than the one the booth took.

After we got back home, Case had some more time to explore, move little boxes, try out the chicken who walks alone, ride the rocking horse, and go with me to investigate the pool.

For a moment there, he was regretful that he had not brought his swimming suit with him.

And we ran out of time to visit the library next door, one of his favorite things to do.

Luniquan of course found all this fascinating.

By the way, in a last minute disappointment, the United States team tied Portugal, 2-2 in their World Cup game.  

A Pilots N' Paws Adventure to Flying W (N14)

All week long there were negotiations.

Desi, the original passenger

I first offered to help with a transport of 9 dogs, but from the time of my offer Monday night, I heard nothing more about it.  Until Thursday, that is.  At that point, the coordinator presented a long and complicated run sheet (times and places for the pilots to meet and transfer the dogs) between North Carolina and Groton, CT.  With sincere apologies, I had to inform them that I'd already agreed to another flight.

That was because I'd been hooked by the prospect of conveying an emaciated 20-pound hound named Desi from South Carolina to Rhode Island where her adopting family lives.  They wanted me to fly the leg from Lynchburg Virginia to New Jersey.  They first suggested Essex NJ but I remembered that airport as the one that charges a $17 landing fee and then continues to harass you, long after you've paid it.  Very poor accounting services there.

I was willing, but it seemed like a lot of flying for one dog, suffering and deserving as she might be.  Then, on Saturday morning, Doug Weir (the coordinator) sent me a text message asking "if you are OK to add 3 Labrador pups (25 pounds each) to the flight -- seems urgent and going to the same destination tomorrow.  Please advise."  So, of course, I said fine -- the more the merrier.

N97RJ at KROA

All was looking good during the planning, but on Saturday morning the weather at Lynchburg (KLYH) was not welcoming -- low IFR and not expected to get the ceilings up until about noon at least.  If the ceilings were really 500 or more we could land IFR, but there was a good chance it would not work and we'd have to divert. Marcia had helped me get the airplane all loaded with dog crates, leashes, avionics updates, etc. while the rain eased and the ceilings lifted at Leesburg (KJYO).

Steve, the pilot coming up from Chester, South Carolina (KDCM), suggested in phone calls that we could shift to Roanoke which had clear conditions.  He was meeting an Angel Flight from Philadelphia, so whatever we did decide was complicated by his need to get the Angel Flight patient's destination shifted from Lynchburg to the new airport.  While he worked on that and getting fuel, we proceeded to change our flight plan and file for KROA.

Steve cleans up N5131N

After changing runways to avoid a wait while Potomac made arrangements with Dulles Tower to let us off runway 17 (who knew that this explains the often long delays departing from 17 at Leesburg?), we finally lifted off about 09:13 local.  It was a pleasantly smooth flight above the cloud banks at 8000 feet.  As we neared Roanoke we could begin to see the green mountains and valley farms.  I made a nice RNAV approach to KROA runway 24 and landed gently on the centerline at 10:19 EDT.  We refueled, got Virginia Aviation passports stamped, used the facilities, and waited for Steve to arrive from Chester in his 182.  He got there about 10:50 a.m.

The dogs were sweethearts, but they had managed to piss themselves in the flight up.  This would not have been too much a problem, but I got soaked by wet dogs as I wrestled them one by one into our crates in the plane.  There was a little yipping and whining, but they quieted down after the hot start (run the boost pump for 20 seconds, then reverse throttle and mixture while cranking until the engine coughs to life) worked pretty well. Steve was breaking down and washing out his crates in preparation for his Angel Flight patient as we departed, again IFR, about 11:39 a.m.

We flight planed around the southeast side of the SFRA. Potomac was pretty good about shortening up the route where they could.  We were in or above the clouds almost all the way -- saw nothing of Richmond, Patuxent NAS, the Chesapeake Bay, unfortunately -- but it did clear off once we were over Delaware and New Jersey.


I'd picked the Flying W airport (N14) at Lumberton, New Jersey because I flew there once years ago with Glenn Shields in N9167S.  I remembered the friendly atmosphere as well as the pool shaped like an airplane.  Well, it was better than ever.  As we landed on runway 1 over the trees on approach, a four-ship flight of World War II aircraft started their radial engines in clouds of smoke and the rumble of thunderous exhausts.  Next to them, a small R-22 helicopter was preparing to give free rides to throngs of excited kids.

Rob and Brian put Desi in N1588R

Rob was already waiting there when we landed at 13:51 EDT and signaled me to park next to his Gruman Tiger on the ramp.  We were also met by Sue and a friend who were there  to take the three Labradors to a local adoption shelter.  Desi was to continue with Rob to North Central State  Airport in Smithfield, RI (KSFZ) where she already had an adoptive family waiting.  The airplane-shaped pool was full of splashing children, an ecited line of kids waited to take the copter rides, there were rocking chairs on the veranda, and the warbirds made a heck of a racket taking off -- all the while we unloaded dogs from N97RJ.

After handing off our charges (the dogs) Marcia and I spent a few minutes at Flying W flight planning the trip back to Leesburg and looking around at all the activities.  We paid for fuel and bought a soft drink -- neither of us felt particularly hungry even though there is a nice restaurant right there at the field -- and filed to depart.  Of course, ATC gave us a roundabout route back to Leesburg -- east out of Lumberton, around the north side of Philadelphia, and then along the airways down to Westminster (EMI) and over to FDK.  Finally they let us turn south and straight in to runway 17 at Leesburg.  

The good news was that it was relatively clear and we had good views of metro Philadelphia, the rivers, and the Pennsylvania countryside on the ride back.  Because of all the circuitous routings, it took us an hour and nine minutes (until 15:53) to get back to Leesburg.  There was about another hour of getting crates disassembled, cleaning up the airplane, cleaning windshields, etc.

Who Is Training the World's Pilots?

America used to lead the world in aviation, and most of the world's finest commercial pilots learned to fly in America, the American way. But that's no longer true.

Runways and Taxiways at JFK

Let's just be clear: it was the United States Congress, led by Jim Sensenbrenner (Wisconsin's 5th district and chairman of the House Judiciary Committee in 2005) who led the move to shut down foreign pilot training in the United States.  This was his response to 9/11;  he believed that foreigners only come to the U.S. to learn how to fly in order to attack us. Sensenbrenner famously said that he had "never seen a foreigner in his home district, and didn't care if I ever do." 

As a result, Congress imposed work visa and travel restrictions, in addition to limitations on pilot training, that make it all but impossible for a foreign citizen to come to America to learn to fly.  That used to be a big industry for us, as we have cheap fuel and open skies, compared to much of the world.  Or at least we used to have.

Low and slow Asiana hits SFO seawall

As a result, shut off from what was once the best pilot training in the world, the foreign  airlines have gone over to their own ab initio training schools.  They now teach their new airline pilots in places like Abu Dhabi and Singapore instead of Florida and Arizona.  Of course, those pilots' English is not so good after training there.  And let's not mention  the pilot skills of people who have never flown a Cessna 172 at all, but instead who learned all their flight training from books and in simulators. 

Such  a pilot is somewhat may be proficient, but he or she is deficient in experience.  Watch the Asiana flight into the seawall at San Francisco, for example.

Have you ever tried to stall a simulator?  The results are evident if you look at AF 447 -- the poor air France pilots did not even realize they had stalled the aircraft at 36,000 feet.  All they had to do was push the nose down and regain airspeed, something every U.S. student pilot learns to do in a little Cessna.

Now, listen to some Chinese pilots attempting to understand and follow an impatient air traffic controller's instructions at JFK:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3AFv48IWhJw

I sympathize with the Air China pilots at JFK.  It's hard enough for me as an American who speaks English to understand what the tower or ground want me to do at a strange and busy airport. Some blame also falls on the parochial controller, who can't seem to think of another way to ask the question, which obviously is not understood.  (The definition of stupidity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different result.)

But, let's remember, in the end, it is the U.S. Congress that has screwed up U.S. domestic aviation and flight training.  And that's real stupidity.