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I had a wonderful experience flying with Tim Krout on a beautiful Saturday, October 14, 2006. Tim has had a pilot’s license for a year or so, and earned his instrument rating this spring, which means he can fly when visibility is poor. We talked about going up for several months and finally made it happen.

Pre-Flight

Tim keeps his plane at Hayes Field near Clarksville, one of the only airports with a grassy runway in Maryland.

Now Boarding for Adventure

The plane, a Cessna Skyhawk 172, technically is a four-seater, but in reality has the same amount of cabin space as Mom’s Audi TT, with a little more headroom.

A Trustworthy Pilot

We rendezvoused at the field at 8:30 a.m., but waited about an hour while the sun thawed a thick layer of frost from the wings. Also at the field was a group of guys just about to break the world’s record for continuous flight of an Unmanned Aerial Vehicle (UAV). The record was 40-some hours, and they were shooting for 50. They were gone when we returned, so we don’t know for sure if they succeeded.

High Flying Antics

The take-off and flight toward the Chesapeake Bay were very smooth. The trickiest past is maneuvering between all the restricted flight zones. Tim certainly knows the lingo as he speaks to air controllers; almost like speaking a foreign language.

The Chesapeake Bay is beautiful at ground level, but it is absolutely stunning from the air. Glistening blue water framed by lush carpets of trees. The tributaries look like a piece of modern art.

Airport Poker

The occasion for the flight was a game of “airport poker” arranged by an informal group of pilots. The idea is to fly to a couple of airports, pick up a card, then meet at a final airport to play out the hand and have lunch together. The group does this periodically and this would have been Tim’s first time. But this was a rescheduling of a bad-weather day the week before, so it wasn’t clear how many pilots would participate. We got a late start due to the frost, so we just flew straight to the final airport. No one else was there; we were the only plane on the tarmac. So we went ahead to the restaurant on our own. A few other pilots did show up about an hour later. We stayed and talked, but never got around to playing poker.

The final airport was on Tangier Island, just south of the Maryland line in Virginia, a tiny bump of land less than a half-mile across. Population: 600. As we approached, Tim asked if I could see the runway. My response: “Heck, I can’t even see the island”.

Over the Wing

Directly overhead, we saw there indeed was a runway, which appeared to be the most solid part of an island that was mostly marshland.

Sky View

Tangier Island

When we landed, two guys in a gold cart scurried over to the plane to collect a sort of airport parking fee – a whole $5. Parking a car in Inner Harbor costs twice that!

When the golf cart guys drove away, Tim looked at me and asked, “What language were they speaking?” I, too, had noticed their very strong dialect that was a little hard to understand. At the restaurant, the server was easier to understand, but still had an intriguing accent. For example, she said “Hees ya pancake” as she served dessert. I was engrossed in conversation and did not pay full attention, but part of my brain thought, “Hmm, pancakes for dessert – interesting.” Turned out to be “pound” cake. I was curious enough to do some research when I got home and found this: “The tiny island community has attracted the attention of linguists because its people speak a totally unique dialect of American English, hypothesized to be nearly unchanged since the days of its first occupation by English colonists.”

The restaurant, Hilda Crockett’s Chesapeake House, was a treat. Very simple, with six large tables nestled together, each seating 12. Tim and I were the only guests at first. They just sat us down at one of the tables and started bringing out food. No menus here; you just eat what they are serving that day. And it’s all family style. So here’s Tim and I, sitting at a humongous table, with huge platters of ham, cole slaw, potato salad, beets, corn pudding, apple sauce, green beans, bread, fried crab fritters and an endless supply of big, meaty crab cakes. After a half hour, another couple came in, was seated right next to us and ate from our same platters. Half-hour after that, three more fliers joined us. Around 2 p.m., we headed out, stopping for a group photo.

Group Photo

How often does that happen at a typical restaurant? To that point, we still were the only luncheon guests. But as we left, the server was stocking several tables with a fresh supply of platters and bowls; they must have been expecting a mid-afternoon rush.

Homeward Bound

As we winged our way homeward, Tim let me take the controls so he could do some sightseeing. The flight had been very smooth all day, and my flying started out fine. But after about 5 minutes, the plane started pitching and yawing, and I struggled to keep a level horizon. I asked Tim if my piloting was that bad, but he assured me that we had entered some atmospheric turbulence. I hung in there for another 15 minutes, then Tim took back the controls so we could land for fuel. Tim made flying look easy, but my short session showed just how physically taxing it is.

The turbulence persisted the rest of the way home. Nothing severe, like head-hitting-the-roof type turbulence. But just enough that I started feeling a little queasy by the time we landed back at Hayes Field. Another 30 minutes, and I probably would have been tossing my crab cakes.