Rosebud, Alberta 1968
by Wendell Hughes
P.E.I., March '96
Oh to fly an open cockpit in the month of May! The propeller eats up the flat country-side and there's the smell of spring on the cold wind. As we bank over a grove of poplars, I see the slipstream turning the wheel slowly, and the pilot's arm hanging out makes even more drag. In spite of its built in head-wind, our Pietenpol stays up in the windy sky all afternoon.
I'm lost even though I was raised around here, so I get the pilot to fly down over a crossroad. He almost rolls his wheels on the road but I miss the sign; so I just shrug and point toward the hill country.
We hold of lot of crab because of the cross-wind, and pass through dust from a farmer harrowing down below. I used to use these goggles I'm wearing up here doing that same job; around and around all day eating dirt on an open cockpit John Deere. Soon I recognize Battle Hill, where they say Cree and Blackfoot had it out once. We fly along the crest and slope lift takes us up where I'm able to spot the old farm. The barn leans and the house is a hollowed-eyed derelict. Stink weeds grow around and I see a circle where I used to fly controline models. There's the corral where grandpa stood with his rifle while we loaded up that Brahma bull for the glue factory.
We land at my old neighbour's place and taxi right up to the house. Even after I take off my helmut and goggles he doesn't recognize me because I'm shivering so bad I can't talk coherently.
The pilot and I jog around to warm up, then the farmer and his family watch as we don helmuts and goggles and go through the ritual of hand propping. Like some sort of heroes, we roar off into the prairie dusk. Flying back to the home strip, we pass over an ancient stone circle turned brilliant red in the sunset. It's almost dark when we land, and coyotes are yapping down in the coulee as we tie down the Piet for the night.
On our way back to the city, we stop for coffee at a diner which has a pot belly stove going. A night wind rattles the window as we talk about the old west and our flight over a land sleeping a dream of nomads and thundering herds.
This model Pietenpol Air Camper was built and is flown by Wendell Hughes (RR 2, Morell P.E.I. C0A 1S0, Canada.) Its wingspan is 10 ft., it weighs three pounds and is controlled by a two-channel radio.
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