The Yellow Cub needed a long flight to stretch her wings after being stuffed in a hangar for too long. Stormy received an invite to the Williamsburg-Jamestown Airport’s WWII aircraft fly-in so we made every effort to get her in the air Saturday before the heat rose so high that we could not claw our way up to an altitude above it. That big fan up front did a great job of cooling me off in the back seat with the window down. Note to cub flyers, the rear seat is the prime summer seat due to high airflow on the ground and in the air. The front seat is warm and toasty in the winter (and the summer) from the very near and not too thick firewall. We did reach an altitude of less than 70 degrees and were soon both checking out all the solar panel farms (they are everywhere), freshly plowed fields and enormous fires (guess they let it get a little too hot where they were) on the ground.
We arrived in time to make the show even though the cars on I-95 often seemed to be passing us (“yes, 911 I’d like to report a blue BMW that just zoomed by me on I-95” – “where am I?” – “about 1/4 mile above him going 90 miles an hour!”) . At least the traffic was light for us – much better than for those poor folks dodging maniacs on the interstate!
We taxied to our parking space just as two Stearmans left, but we did get to see two PT-19s on the ramp. I don’t think that I have ever seen more than one of those at a time at an airshow (even Oshkosh)
Charlie’s Restaurant was hopping busy, but well worth the slight wait especially since they made sure we had plenty of sweet ice tea to hold us over until we could be seated.
After what was unquestionably the baconiest BLT I have ever gobbled down, I suggested to Stormy that maybe they should change their slogan to “We put the B in BLT!”
Watching airplanes land and takeoff while eating is always a treat for us, but after lunch the oppressive heat made A/C and a nap very alluring so we accepted a ride to our hotel from a gracious local man and his daughter (Hi Jeremy and Emily – thanks again!). While Stormy got his beauty sleep, I sat on the hotel’s porch and watched an incredible thunderstorm blast through (think rain going up – not down and thunder shaking the ground).
With the air slightly cooler, it seemed a good time to get in a pre-dinner walk in an attempt to bank room for excessive calorie consumption at Christiana Campbell’s Tavern later in the evening. To our amazement, all the people were gone. There was no one in Colonial Williamsburg. We wondered if there had been an evacuation and we had not been notified. Here is a news report from the scene:
We were not able to walk far enough to make room for the colonial feast that we enjoyed that night, but we could not have asked for a finer evening. In spite of being over stuffed we still managed to walk the 5-6 blocks back to our room before exhaustion seized me and I crashed.
