Flight Training - May 2013 - 28

FLYING CARPET

By Greg Brown

PLUS View the slideshow.

OCEANSIDE BEACH and Pier, California,
viewed from the Oceanside Airport (Bob Maxwell
Memorial Airfield) noise abatement departure.

NOTHING SHORT
OF MAGIC

FROM SNOWY PINES TO SWAYING PALMS

ever does the Flying Carpet seem more aptly named than
when journeying from snowy mountain Flagstaff to sunny
Southern California. It’s nothing short of magical to depart
snowy pines and alight two and a half hours later amid swaying beachfront palms. Our neighbors Tim and Hedy Thomas had invited
us for a weekend at their seaside rental condo, and for the first time we’d
land at Oceanside Airport (Bob Maxwell Memorial Airfield).
Although Oceanside’s 2,700-foot
runway is plenty long for a Cessna Skylane, it snuggles among hills, so there’d
be no room for sloppiness. Instructor
Fred Gibbs recently admonished me for
approaching a little hot, a habit developed
to counter Flagstaff’s gusty winds. Shorter
runways demand precise flying speeds, so
I polished my short-field technique before
our trip. Our destination’s 28-foot elevation would further shorten our landing
by lowering our touchdown groundspeed
10 knots compared to what I’m used to at
7,000-foot Flagstaff.
Parking can be limited at Southern California’s busy airports, so I phoned ahead.
“There’s plenty of room: four transient
tiedowns plus two more for overflow,”

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airport manager Dennis Easto said. I was
intrigued that six parking spots should be
“plenty” in such a congested region.
We launched equipped for three
climates. While shorts and swimsuits
filled our luggage, the back seat brimmed
with winter and desert survival gear
for any unscheduled landing. When the
snowy Colorado Plateau and Bradshaw
Mountains yielded to the parched Mojave
Desert, we shed coats and opened air
vents. Ninety minutes later we descended
over Palomar Mountain into a green ocean
paradise peppered with fuchsia flowers.
“You can smell the sea breeze from the
cockpit!” Jean said, as we rubbed elbows
with famed Palomar Observatory. It
wasn’t easy spotting the runway nestled

among hills along Highway 76. Hearing
my pattern radio announcements, the pilot
of a skydiving plane high overhead held
jumpers until we landed. Mindful of the
rapidly approaching departure-end hill, I
skimmed passing autos on short final and
touched down precisely on the numbers.
Oceanside proved to be an intimate
small-town airport plunked in the middle
of bustling Southern California. The
transient tiedowns were full, so I intercepted Dennis on his riding mower for
parking directions. An hour later we
strolled sun-splashed sands with Tim and
Hedy. For two delightful days we dined al
fresco, sipped wine under seaside sunsets,
and slept to the soothing sounds of surf.
Dry weather was forecast all weekend,
so we were surprised when dark clouds
sprinkled the beach Saturday evening.
What’ll that moisture do when it hits the
mountains east of here? I wondered. Sure
enough, light showers enveloped western
Arizona when we awoke Sunday morning.
On the positive side, all the airports along
our route reported ceilings at or above
9,000 feet msl. That might mean circumnavigating a few mountains, but overall
it shouldn't be a problem flying visually
underneath. If we didn’t like what we saw,
we’d land at Lake Havasu City, or Prescott.
We decided to depart early to avoid pushing sunset in less than clear skies.
Along with the surrounding hills,
Oceanside is bounded to the north by
Camp Pendleton’s restricted area, and
on the south by busy McClellan-Palomar
Airport. When I asked a local pilot for
Runway 24 departure tips, he directed us
to the airport’s noise-abatement brochure.
Being good neighbors is important at any
airport to maintain our friends on the
ground. Oceanside, however, has endured

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Flight Training - May 2013

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