The grounds were beautiful, and extensive. This building caught my attention due to the contrast of color between the building and the jungle in the background.
Sign below was on the back of the main building:
[continued from yesterday's post]
The time came for Ed to teach me how to fly cross country, from one town to another. Our first was to Galveston. I took off and pointed to where we were supposed to go, but frankly found it a little boring. We just puttered along at about 7,000 feet, watching the ground below pass by - slowly it seemed because of our altitude. I would have much preferred zooming along above the marsh at about 50 feet, flying below the Rainbow Bridge when we got to that point instead of way above when we got to that point. One thing that does stand out about that flight was that I never acquired a suitable pair of sunglasses for piloting, so the reflection of the sun off the myriad bodies of water we flew over was a significant distraction. Also, when we arrived at Galveston, our final approach took us so low over the seawall I thought we were going to crash! Should have known then that I wasn't born to be a pilot.
The next cross country we flew was much more memorable. It was a three-legged flight, from our home base at Brown to Jasper, then to DeRidder in Louisiana, and finally back to Orange. This one was memorable because of two things, which sort of tie together.
For one I was bored. Flying didn't provide near the excitement I thought it would. Here we were cruising along, keeping a keen eye out for traffic, making navigation adjustments, and talking on the radio when necessary...all very routine, with nothing to shake things up and make it interesting. When you're at altitude the scenery below - and over East Texas it's monotonous, being huge expanses of forest with only the very occasional town or city - just creeps by. Also at altitude you bounce around a bit in such a small plane.
And it was because of that bouncing around that the second thing comes into play. I felt myself growing more and more airsick! What's this? Had no idea that even a pilot in command gets airsick, but I sure did. Think my instructor Ed noticed but, being the good instructor he was, did very little to relieve me of my obvious discomfort. Providing a crutch would prevent my learning to take care of it should I be alone in similar circumstances.
We landed in Jasper and took a little time on the ground for my discomfort to go away. Ed asked if I was OK and I said yes. After all, we had two more legs to go and what are you going to do about it? After waiting as long as I possibly could, we took off again - and again I felt the nausea increase along with our altitude. I tried hard to concentrate on flying, but really there's not much to do after you've pegged the VOR but watch for traffic and keep track of the DME reading. I was very relieved when the DME measured just five miles to DeRidder, because this time I was even sicker than before.
Therefore, imagine my heartbreak when we descended into a long final only to find out that the whole airport had been sequestered for a military exercise, and the runways were covered with tents! I'll swear that was the sorriest sight I ever saw - those tents blanketing my pathway to comfort.
After a little radio talk we could do nothing but pass over the field and head back to Orange. I don't remember throwing up, but I do remember confessing my plight to Ed and letting him fly most of that third leg back to Orange...
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