Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Little XC in a Little Airplane

        Ground speed: 84 knots across North Texas landscape. We had a superb flight in MyMrMallory's little aerobat, and no, no spins or rolls, Immelmanns, or whifferdills, just straight flight in smooth morning air. We flew slowly enough to admire the view from 2,500 feet. I took pictures with my iPhone.

Joe washed and buffed the aerobat all week. It looked nice and shiny for our early morning flight.

Watched an Air Tractor take off for his cross-country to Idaho Falls. 
His speed: 230 mph with a service ceiling of 25,000 feet. 

The aerobat's wheel cover as we took off with a slight crosswind from the left. 

The shadow of our wheels as the airplane gains a positive rate of climb. (By habit, at this point I think, "Gear UP," even though aerobat has a fixed gear.) 

The shadow of the plane on the grass along the runway as we climb.

Over the nose of the aerobat: Hazy day with a high ceiling and still miles and miles of visibility. 

Photograph of the view over my shoulder. 

An hour later, ah, there is the marina at our destination.

Our destination, the grassy runway at Cedar Mills, pointing downhill and into the lake. Eek. 
It is a nice and long strip, though, of 3,000 feet, and well maintained.

Small mural at the restaurant at Cedar Mills. Good coffee there. 

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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.