I was in the outdoor seating area of the airport restaurant. It was a chilly day and no one was actually eating out there, but there was a woman seated, legs crossed at the knee and one swinging, and we were chatting. She was there for an airplane ride, which, apparently, she was in the habit of indulging in from time to time. At first she thought I was the same, until I made it clear that no, I seldom rode, I was usually the one in charge. Her eyes widened “You’re a pilot? Wow. When are you going up?”
“When the biplane gets back”
Which was the cue, apparently, for it to do so. The two guys flying it had somehow managed to sneak onto the ground quietly. It trundled out from behind the big helicopter hangar, on its way to the parking area. The airplane in question was a Boeing-built 1943 PT-17 Stearman. Not a replica, reconstruction, or recreation but the real deal. You’ve seen these before, in movies, as crop dusters, at airshows… It’s a big airplane with two wings that makes lots and lots of noise.
The arrival of the airplane was my cue to find the fuel guy and ask him to bring the truck around to the airplane, then go back to the flight school office to pick up a couple seat cushions. I knew I would need them. I also stopped by my car to dig all my extra clothing out of the back. It was about 50 degrees (10 C) on the ground, and it would be colder up in the air. The Stearman is an open cockpit airplane, you’re out in the weather, and there’s significant wind chill factor when you’re traveling around 80 mph (130 kph). I’ve flown open planes before so I knew what I was getting into. Actually, between sitting in an actual fuselage and having even a minimal windscreen, the Stearman offered much more protection from the elements than the ultralights I used to fly. I was a little concerned that I might be overdressed for the occassion.
As I was putting on an extra shirt and an insulated vest one of the other airport folks walked by and asked me if I was going up in the Citabria. I said no, Stearman today, wanted to do this before the weather got much colder. He nodded, then said how there were guys in his powered parachute crowd who flew all winter. I said uh-huh - aside from the 'chutes going a lot slower, there was an important difference between those guys and me. What’s that, said N? Well… being a woman, I didn’t feel a need to prove how manly I am. End of problem. That got a smile out of him, and I got his name and phone number because, among other things, such as being a fellow student in the taildraggers, he is a powered parachute instructor. The information joined the other stuff in my flight bag concerning things like gliders and hot air ballons that are on my list of Things to Do in Aviation Sometime in the Future. Mentioned he wouldn’t hear from me until spring at the earliest, he said that was OK, and he wished me a good flight.
By this time the airplane was parked J had shown up, and the two prior occupants were crawling out and off the airplane.
Like most airplanes I fly this one refueled from an outlet in the top of the wing. In this case, the top of the top wing. That’s about 12 feet (4 meters) up off the ground, which made reaching it a slight problem. The ladder on the back of the fuel truck doesn’t get you up high enough. The problem, apparently, was solved by one person climbing up to stand with a foot on either side of the forward cockpit so he could reach the top of the wing, then the line guy unwound a lot of hose and handed it up to the guy standing on the airplane. Hey, it worked. They stationed me to watch the gas gauge, which was inconveniently mounted underneath the top wing so the refueler couldn’t see it, and told me to yell out when the tank was 3/4 full. J didn’t want it completely full, something about not wanting the airplane too heavy so I could manage it.
Mind you, there was no way I could afford enough time in it to be allowed to solo - flying alone or with a non-pilot passenger is not just a matter of making the machine go where you point it, which is typically the same from airplane to airplane if you’re talking about single engine prop planes, you also have to know how to handle the unusual, the unexpected, and emergencies. Every airplane has its quirks, which you may not want to discover by trial and error. I was buying just one hour in the biplane, that was it. Harsh reality was that it might be the only hour of Stearman time I ever got because this was just plain expensive. There was no way I was going to become proficient in just one hour, so the main focus was to have fun. Certainly, I’d fly it to the limit of my capabilities, but J would be there to show me the ropes and keep me out of trouble . I wanted J in preference to a different instructor in large part because he already had a good grasp of my abilities, both strengths and weaknesses, so I’d only have to deal with a new airplane and not with a new instructor as well. Certain items that we would ordinarially go over in detail if I was intending to check out to solo we either dealt with in a superficial manner or skipped entirely.
Next step was to get in the biplane, right? I had the same moment of trepidation I had the first time I climbed onto this behemoth, but I remembered how I did it the last time. Right hand on the edge of the rear cockpit, left foot on the lower wing, push/pull up, grab edge of cockpit with second hand, pull right foot on board. There! That was almost graceful.
J called up from the ground that I would be sitting in the rear. OK, whatever. He asked the two prior flyers - an instructor named S and one of the biplane regulars named MrB, to get me strapped in.
I stepped into the cockpit and onto the seat - this being one of the few vehicles where you’re supposed to put your feet on the seats. Then I looked down into this relatively dark hole to find a place to rest my shoes as I got the rest of the way inside. The two men, having noticed the abundance of seat cushions I arrived with, then ducked their heads into the hole with me, making for a definite crowd, and started directing me on how to bring the rudder pedals forward. How neat, adjustable pedals! The only problem was that they were already full back towards me. OK, no big deal, and I wound up using both cushions behind my back to push me forward in the seat so I could reach everything.
Now it was time to strap in. First there was a standard sort of four-point harness, although I could swear the straps on this one looked wider than usual. S and MrB helped me get them properly arranged, latched, and tightened. And I do mean tight - at one point I said “Thanks for helping out with this, guys, but I like my left collar bone - could we loosen this shoulder strap so it remains in one piece, not two?” MrB chuckled, then made sure I tucked in the loose strap ends so they wouldn’t slap around in the wind later. Kind of nice getting male attention, although before anyone gets any sort of wrong impression this was all strictly business. They had me firmly held down, then S asked me to lean down and pick up two more straps from the floor of the airplane. Um, guys, the whole point of the rig was to make it nearly impossible for me to move, you might have asked before you tightened everything up… but I must have been able to make my arm stretch a couple inches because I got the straps up. Two more thick, heavy, army-green straps. S said “What we did before was to hold you in your seat. These hold you in the plane.”
“What? I thought the ones on the seat did that.”
“They do, but they attach only to the seat. These attach to the frame of the airplane.” Said with a smile, of course, but the resulting vision of a seat breaking loose and rampaging about the teeny cockpit just prior to attempted airplane departure was not reassuring. Nor was I entirely convinced that if that did happen this extra set of straps across my thighs was really going to hold both me and the seat inside. Fortunately, I will not need to test that redundant safety feature on this flight. S and MrB gave me a pat on each shoulder and get down from the lower wing.
Somewhere in all that I had also secured my camera. My digital camera has actually been dropped out of an open cockpit airplane several times - but I always fly with it on a leash so I just reel it back in. This time was no exception. The camera strap was threaded through one of my shoulder straps, as usual, and the camera swung down under and behind my right arm where it wouldn’t interfere with my flying. It wouldn’t leave the airplane until I did, and that would be after we were on the ground again.
Here I am, strapped in, strapped down, and contemplating what if I had a parachute and needed to exit this thing in a hurry, just how fast could I get untangled from all this strapping?
While all this was going on J was giving the plane a look over, signed the fuel ticket, and otherwise got ready to go. All which I normally do for a flight, but like I said, this time was a little different. There was a bit of a to-do as J insisted the rear wheel was low on air. There was the required debate by 4 or 5 people, and somebody went off to get a tank of air for the tire. After a few minutes the tire inflation party stated that the tire pressure was fine. J said something about maybe it was the weight on the back wheel. Hey! I leaned over the side and stated - loudly - I am NOT putting on weight! J had the grace to look embarassed at his unintentional insinuation that his gal-student was getting fat. If I looked pudgy it was probably the heap of laundry I wore. J looked a little rolly-polly himself for similar reasons. Flying is much more enjoyable when you’re reasonably warm and with no heater on board the only way to do that is more clothing.
Then it was time for J to get up on the wing and climb up to the forward seat (it was a climb, you were definitely going uphill), climb in the cockpit (this was begining to sound like going up a mountain), sit down, and strap in. This was a switch - this time I got to look at the back of his head. Back of his hat, actually.
J then launched into what was obviously a well-used spiel which might be called Tour of the Cockpit. “Take your left hand” he waved his left hand next to his head, “Reach down” he reached down - I was just about ready for him to break into the hokey-pokey and tell me to shake it all about. Anyhow, he had obviously done this a lot, and I suddenly realized what the rearview mirror was for - it was to allow him to keep an eye on me. I was sure that worked real well when I ducked down below the instrument panel looking for whatever knob or lever or bit of equipment he referred to.
I don’t know when they standardized cockpit layouts but clearly it was some time after this thing was built. I’d been speaking earlier with an older pilot on the ramp who had flown Stearmans back in his youth, when they were still considered new airplanes. He mentioned that the Morris Stearman wasn’t like others he’d flown, that this was different and that was different. I expressed the opinion that since the youngest Stearman was at least a half cenutry old it was unlikely you’d be able to find one in original condition, The amount of tinkering and rebuilding that must have occured over that time would be considerable. He nodded and conceded that may, in fact, be true. I don’t know if the current layout in this Stearman was factory standard or not, but it sure wasn’t what I was used to seeing. What it reminded me of was the “standard” ultralight layout, which has no standard whatsoever and sometimes left you going "Why did they put that there?"
Anyhow, I’d figured out this large object in front of me connected to the floor was the stick, and the throttle turned out to be over to the left with the mixture level mounted beside it. So far, not too different than the Citabria. J moved the controls from his seat, which moved them in my area, so they’d be easier to find. Then it was find the fuel switch and make sure it was on - that was further forward on the left, tucked way up under the fuselage structure. Then find the master switch, also on the left. Trim was a “yellow thing, should be down by your left elbow, do you see it?” About the only thing on the right was the carb heat which, I confess, I never did find. Apparently, it was even more hidden than most of the controls and J wound up managing it for me because we didn’t want to spend too much time looking for it - I was only buying one hour in this thing, after all, I wasn’t going to follow through to being signed off to solo it. I know how to use carb heat, I don’t have to prove that to J.
There were no ammenities in this airplane, no nice interior upholstery or even a pretense of it. You were very much sitting in a metal framwork covered with painted cloth. The various controls were sort of tacked/riveted to the metal frame in whatever location had seemed convenient at the time. Yes, I keep harping on that. Yes, it bothered me for while, until I started remembering where things were. How something so minimal in construction could be so heavy - 2700 lbs (1225 kg) when empty, more with gas and two people in it, up to 3200 lbs (1450 kg) - was an interesting conundrum, and not one explained simply by having two wings instead of one. This would be the heaviest airplane I had flown to date, and also the one with the highest horsepower. It would not, however, be anything close to the fastest. The power was required to haul the weight into the air. Also required to overcome air resistance, as open cockpit biplanes are not as aerodynamic in shape as you might suppose. There was a lot of drag from the struts and wires, among other things.
J cautioned me to keep clear of the stick and demonstrated the need for this by doing a flight control check where he moved the stick full left, right, forward, and back. I almost got out of the way in time and the whack on the right knee was mild and left no lasting mark. He said he’d need the full range of motion. I wondered what sort of manuvers he had in mind - it’s been years since I had reason to move a stick to the full stops in flight. On the other hand, I was pretty sure that if extreme manuvers were planned for this flight we’d be wearing parachutes in accordance with regulations and common sense.
J started the engine. The start up procedure was different than any I’d used before and since I wasn’t likely to get back into this plane any time soon, if ever, it wasn’t necessary for me to learn how to do it. It involved a lot of throttle pumping and some stuttering before the engine caught. I was just happy no one suggested hand propping this monster. J throttled it back slightly after starting so he could be heard yelling over it.
I received instructions on how to turn on the intercom. In this airplane you used the headsets that were left in the airplane. They have heavy-duty windscreens on the mikes, which would be important later, as you don’t want a constant sshooSHSHOsshshHHSHhshhHSHSSSHOOOOOOOSH from the wind going over the audio pickup. Got those on and adjusted which helped with the background noise considerably. J explained that he would let me taxi but he wanted to show me how it was done first so I should follow him on the controls. Also, it was a little tight around the buildings, he wanted to wait until we got to the taxiway by the runway where there was more room before he turned it over to me. By “more room” he didn’t mean the taxiway was wider - it was, in fact, narrower - what he meant was that if I screwed up and went into the grass with this thing I wasn’t going to do any damage to buildings, other airplanes, or people. Unlike most of the airplanes I fly, which would crumple sort of like a soda can if you ran them into a solid object like a shed, a Stearman actually stood a good chance of winning an argument with solid objects like trees and hangars. This very airplane had, in fact, removed the top of a tree once upon a time without sustaining damage to itself. Whether or not the occupants suffered underwear damage during that incident no one has ever been willing to tell me, but they were also unharmed, although very alarmed. Contrast that with the usual result when a single-engine airplane has a close encounter with a tree, where the airplane looks like it’s been fed into a paper shredder and the tree is often still standing, and you’ll get some idea of just how solid a Stearman is. Sure, it’s possible to destroy one, but you have to actually work at it.
We pulled forward, onto the taxiway. Right away, even though I wasn’t operating the controls, I could feel a difference. From past demonstrations I was used to J using a smooth and light touch on the controls. Not this time. He was really shoving at those rudder pedals, using a large throw to get a very small movement. I could feel it in the seat of my pants, through my seat and the harness. Yeah, it was a heavy airplane. This was going to use some muscle.
Not too much creaking and rattling, though - think my pickup truck has more creaks and rattles in its frame and it was a lot younger than this thing, nor did the pickup get bounced off runways on a regular basis.
J explained that since we couldn’t see what was ahead of us (really, you can’t - which went a long way towards explaining how someone ran over a tree with this airplane) we would have to go slightly to one side of our intended course, looking out over the other side so we could see what was ahead, then turn to the other side of our course, look over the opposite side, turn again… These are called “S turns” because the actual course you follow looks like a series of S’s. It was the only way to see where you were going and avoid chewing things up in the prop which, course, arrived first wherever you went. J explained all this while demonstrating it, taking us out to the main taxiway.
Because we’re using runway 36 we have to go to the far end of the pavement. J got us around the last corner before the long straightaway, then told me it was my airplane. So I SHOVED the right rudder, looked over the left side, and then became aware of the crosswind off the left, mainly because the airplane suddenly developed a certain friskiness that I wasn’t expecting or desiring. So I SHOVED the left rudder, and SHOVED, and SHOVED and looked over the right side as the airplane nose swung left and - hey! - there was a Cessna ahead of us! SHOVE right, look left, feel the airplane want to wander off again and SHOVE SHOVE SHOVE left rudder, look right - there was the Cessna again…
<— Me green with admiration and jealosy.