FVFC Annual Flight to the Phantom Factory
Article by
Barry Ward
Pictures by Brian Gilomen and Mick
Pahnke
Phil Bolenbaugh and I did not make it out on Friday as originally planned. The weather was lousy. We both got up at 5:00 A.M. and started checking the weather. I must have checked the weather every 25 minutes until noon, hoping for a break. None came. All the time I kept hearing Larry Gehrig whispering in my ear “If flying will teach you anything, it will teach you patience.” A bit of ‘aviator wisdom’ that still haunts me. I am not inherently patient although I am repeatedly confronted with the reality of his words.
Rickey Anderson, Mick Pahnke, Brian Gilomen, Phil Bolenbaugh and I meet at Charlie’s for breakfast on Saturday September 17th, 7:30 A.M. We departed about an hour later for Porter County went to Elkhart (tower controlled!) and then Three Rivers. It was a beautiful flight. Mick was in the lead by the time we got to Three Rivers. The Phantom Factory has a 09-27 grass strip 300 Yards NW of Three Rivers. We were supposed to use this instead of the paved runway at Three Rivers. Mick spotted what he was convinced was the grass strip and set up for a proper pattern. I am second in line, and the other guys are a couple of minutes behind. As Mick is about half way down on his Final he radios “I hope this is the grass strip.” I was just turning Final and replied “Let me know if I should wave off.” Mick landed and said it was not too bad. I followed him in. Approaching the strip I realized the grass was 18’ tall. This seemed kind of odd but Mick had done OK. As I flared I started chanting “Don’t land, don’t land”, something I picked up from the safety seminar in Springfield this year. This is a way to remind yourself to hold the plane off the ground till your airspeed drops to stall.
The strip was incredibly smooth despite the tall grass. However, Mick could not find a taxiway to the factory building. Mick gets on the radio and asks the guys still up in the air for some guidance from above. Good thinking. The guidance came in the form of Brian Gilomen telling us that we had landed in someone’s field and the real grass strip was still 200 yards north. Of course Brian was as delicate as ever with this news.
Mick and I took off again and landed at the appropriate grass strip and I will say that the field we mistakenly landed in was much smoother. It turns out the field we first landed in is laid out as a future taxiway for the planned runway extensions at Three Rivers.
We all had lunch provided by Eric Pederson and his wife Lisa. Lisa did the cooking. We hung out for awhile and asked 200 questions about the new 2-seater, how did he test the new wing design, etcetera. We got to check out the "factory" -- where planes were stacked on top of each other -- and a Phantom powered by a Wankel motor! And, Mick got to enjoy repairing a flat tire.
Eric pulled out some real fancy scales and gave Rickey a weight and balance on his plane. We all gassed up and took off. Phil continued his trip to his stepmother's house in Indiana and the rest of us flew to Brian Taylor’s place.
We landed and set up our tents. Soon afterwards Eric and his wife Lisa drove up with their 16 month old daughter Annabelle. Brian Gilomen took off again to cruise the area and the rest of us hung out chatting.
Later that afternoon Brian Taylor goes up in a 1940’s by-wing trainer and indulged us with a private air show with all the trappings including smoke!
Brian Taylor and his wife Diana had family over so Eric and his wife dragged Mick and I into town (25 minutes one way) where we picked up some food and refreshments. Eric dropped us back off and Mick, Rickey, Brian and I spent several hours in sometimes ‘Not so quiet’ conversation. We packed it in around 10:30.
7:00 A.M. I get up feeling surprisingly refreshed. I pop out of my tent thinking I was the early bird only to find Mick rooting around in his plane. Rickey and Brian were only moments behind. We struck camp, policed the area, wiped excessive amounts of dew from our planes and were up in the air minutes after 8:00 A.M.
It was a perfect morning by any standard. The sun was bouncing off the many small lakes, and the trees stood majestically as we passed over. The leaves were already hinting the myriad colors of fall. Within 2 minutes Phil is on the radio, he had taken off only minutes before. We agree to fly direct to Porter County to maximize the flight time while the air was still smooth.
The four of us land at Porter County without incident and gassed up. Phil is nowhere to be found, and we weren’t able to raise him on the radio before we landed. I kill a few minutes talking with a gentleman by the name of Jack. He seems marveled by our tiny planes and is full of questions. I figure he is here to waste a beautiful morning at the local airport.
Jack & I end the Q & A with a question about fuel. I remark that my plane uses about 5 gallons an hour. I point to a 3 engine business jet (according to Brian a Dassault Falcon 50) that is running up its engines near the FBO. “That’s about the same amount of gas that that guy has burned up in the last few minutes.” I quip with an ironic smirk.
Jack follows me to towards the FBO and as I pass the jet he turns and walks up the open stairway and into the jet. Jack turns and I ask “Is this your plane?” Jack smiles and nods as he ducks inside. I linger at the wingtip noticing the cool slats on the leading edge of the wing. These were currently deployed and I was examining the mechanism when Jack stepped out of the jet.
“Would you like to take a look inside?” Jack asked. “Hell yes!” I tried not to run to the steps. The inside was narrow but finely appointed in camel colored leather and carpet. It could seat 5 or 6 very comfortably and was complete with a relatively large bathroom and a fully stocked bar. The cockpit was jammed with a mind boggling array of controls and instruments.
It turns out Jack was the co-pilot, and the jet was owned by some hotel magnate he failed to identify by name. I inappropriately asked how much a plane like this might cost and Jack said “About 8 million.” When he saw my jaw drop a little he quickly added “The owner got a good deal on it. The asking price was 12 million. But they had to put a couple hundred thousand in it after that.” We chatted awhile longer about air speed, 780 knots to 820 knots cruise [Editor: No way! In the 500-525 Kt. range at best. Wadda you think; it's supersonic?], and range, 3600 miles or so. Cost of operation was also touched on. Apparently there is something called an APU [Editor: Auxiliary Power Unit; a small turbine powering a generator] that runs any time the engines run. It cost $58.00 per hour of operation for insurance alone on this device! The engines have an insurance policy that costs over $150.00 per hour of operation, and that policy only covers some failures. This has nothing to do with the cost of normal maintenance and overhaul. Jack was very generous with his time and patience, but it was time to go. I thanked Jack and stepped out of the jet. The engines were still running when I stepped out. I was immediately grateful for the 5 gallons per hour that my Rotax 582 burned.
I paid for my 6 measly gallons of gas and went back outside. Mick had already arranged for the courtesy car. Mick carefully backed out so as not to bang into the wing of the jet. We all piled in and drove around to the electric gate that kept the riffraff out. Mick and Brian fumbled for a minute or so trying to open the gate with a pushbutton lockbox that was screwed to the hump between the two front seats. All the while Rickey and I were heckling the two geniuses in front. Not one of us noticed the garage door opener clipped to the passenger’s visor. Finally the gal in the office let us off the hook by opening the gate from her location.
The restaurant was titled Broadway, although I really can’t say why. Breakfast was a triumph of eggs, bacon, orange juice, coffee and potato pancakes. [Editor: You forgot to mention the DOUBLE portions of ham-carved-from-the-bone! Yum!!] The meal was very inexpensive made more so by the fact that Brian and Rickey picked up the tab. Thanks guys!
(Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, the Phantom Twins)
During the meal Mick said he though the last leg of the trip might get a little bumpy due to temperature and humidity. I listened quietly as I shoved my last potato pancake down my throat, not realizing the import of his words. Brian checked his messages and found that Phil was at Porter County gassing up his plane.
We piled back into the courtesy car and Mick returned us to the airport. We negotiated the gate with only slightly less fumbling than before. Apparently the garage door opener was really for a garage. I jumped out of the car and buzzed the office with the callbox. The gate opened without a reply.
Phil was waiting in the lounge munching on cookies. After a couple of minutes questioning Phil about his trip into Indiana we climbed into our respective crafts and departed runway one eight. I announced my departure and thanked Porter County for their hospitality. ”Come back anytime” was the cheerful response.
I was immediately reminded of Mick’s comment about bumpy air. Turning East toward Clow my Phantom began what was to be an incessant bouncing and twisting, hour and twenty minute, roller coaster ride. Rickey confided in me later that he knew I was having a bad time because I was so quiet. He was right. While it was truly nothing compared to our trip to Oshkosh, it was less that pleasant. I was glad to see our little row of hangers come into view as I approached Clow. When I climbed out of my plane I realized my tailbone was sore from being bounced up and down so many times.
We all had a good time this year to a man. Eric and Lisa were extremely generous and accommodating. I figure they drove for about 2.5 hours on top of their normal commute to make sure we were taken care of. The new factory is situated at a location that could accommodate a very large fly-in and camping. I believe Eric is working on this concept for next year. Hope you can join us.
Where To Now?
Not Your Typical Ultralight Cross-Country:
Evan Goes IFR All the Way to Connecticut!
We Made It to Tommy George's This Year!