On January 27th, I went out to the Norridgewock airport around 8:00 for breakfast, and to work with Chuck Boyer on his Tripacer.  While there, Jack Fickett was telling about the runway he had packed down in front of his house on the Kennebec River, so I had to go right over and try it.  I shot two touch-and-goes as the trees at the end were coming up fast, and I didn’t think I could stop in time, so I went back to the airport, where I waited for Chuck Boyer to show up.

I got restless and left for Windsock Village in NH without him.  I got beyond Oxford, where the really poor visibility turned solid IFR.  I did a 180 on instruments and returned to OWK.  Chuck had shown up, and already had his plane mostly apart.  I helped, but mostly watched as he removed his starter.  We connected jumper cables from his starter cable to another starter and tried it, and it spun well.  Then we tried his starter, and it was dead.  So we determined that we wouldn’t be getting his airplane running that day.

We packed up the tools, and jumped in my plane, headed for Jackman for lunch.  Some of the clouds had spilled into the mountains, but the flying was smooth.  Coming into Jackman, we noticed that snow on the lake was well packed down by snowmobiles close to town, so we landed there.  We came to an abrupt stop.

About then I realized I hadn’t taken my anti-stupid pills that morning.  We got out and pushed the plane out of the ruts.  I got back in alone and firewalled it, continuing north towards town, but I couldn’t accelerate and was running out of lake.  I got back out, and Chuck and I pushed the plane out the ruts again and turned it around.  I put my back out in the process.  I got back in and firewalled it again heading back south.  There wasn’t a lick of wind to help.  As I plowed through the snow, I had play the elevators to keep from nosing over, but eventually after a long run I got airborne.

I flew over town to the airport, while Chuck walked into town.  On my landing roll out, I found I didn’t have any brakes, and my snow-covered boots kept slipping off the heal pedals anyway.  Before I got to the ramp turn off, a slight gust of wind on the tail swerved the plane 90 degrees to the runway, and it rolled up on a snow bank and stood up on its nose.  This wasn’t turning out to be such a good day.

I shut off the switches, fished my hat and mittens out from around the rudder pedals, flopped the door open, and stepped out onto the snow bank.  It was a spectacular sight, with the tail sticking straight up in the air.  It really looked like someone had augered in.  Well, there was nothing to be done for it, so I walked into town.  The temperature was mild, in the 20’s.   The sun was shining brightly, but I had dark thoughts.  I met Chuck on the deserted main street of town, shades of “Gunsmoke”.

Chuck was all for going right back to the plane, but I needed sustenance and time to reflect, so we headed back towards town, and settled into a pub.  After our lunch we walked back to the airport, where a local in his pickup was admiring my handiwork.  Fortunately he had a tow strap, and by standing on the very top of the step ladder from the gas pump (OSHA be damned), I was able to hook onto the lift handle on the tail.  A half dozen snowmobilers had stopped, so we had all kinds of help.  Chuck pulled the tail down, and we pushed the plane out the snow bank and back on to the runway.

My worst fears weren’t realized, as the propeller wasn’t bent.  Both wheel pants were broken at their attachments.  One grille was bent and the other was pushed out, and the cowling was pushed in on one side, just cosmetic damage.  After scooping snow out of the engine compartment, it started right up.  Chuck insisted that we put some more gas in it, so I taxied gingerly to the gas pumps.  Whoever had last gotten gas had let the gas hose run off the reel upon retraction, and the hose was solidly jambed down beside the hose reel.  Everyone else had left.  We fought with it for over a half hour, finally prying the hose loose with a couple of pieces of pipe that we’d found.  In the process, Chuck slipped once, smacking me in the face, and knocking one lens out of my glasses.  I was able to pop it back in.

I had had enough for one day, so we flew home.  I went up to 3500′ and followed Rt. 201, just being cautious.  It was a pleasant, smooth flight, and we watched the sun set beyond the mountains.  As we came in crosswind to 33 at Norridgewock, a departing 182 turned on the runway lights.  The landing was uneventful, and some braking action had returned.

I spent the next day convalescing.  I’ve really got to get out of the shanty more often, as I tend to cram too much into one day when I do.