Of all the annual traditions that exist in my family, there is one that has proven to be particularly predictable.
Every January or February, my father, who lives in San Diego, emails me a photo or video of him walking along a picturesque beach bathed in golden sunlight. He wanders around during the week, leaving footprints in the sand behind him. These messages are usually accompanied by chipper explanations about temperatures and long-range forecasts.
He knows very well that I live in Wisconsin. And having grown up in Detroit, he is keenly aware of the reality that I am dealing with frozen car locks, downed power lines, and air so cold it’s painful to breathe at that moment. But despite his idyllic climate and well-timed chit-chat, he’s quick to admit that he actually misses the varied, distinct seasons where he lives now.
It’s easy to see why, since as an airplane owner you’re always either limited by bad weather or enjoying good weather. Cancellations lead to plans and hopes for better days. And when that day comes, we will relish the opportunity to enjoy them from a perch in the sky.
During my first few years as an airplane owner, I noticed that here in the Midwest, each season tends to be fully embodied by its own defining flying experience. Something that stands out as the quintessential taste of everything the season has to offer. We’re imagining and looking forward to it throughout the rest of the year.
This fall, we’re not holding back the punches. A pleasantly warm afternoon is reserved by clear skies and a chilly evening. Flying low, with no windows or doors open at all, the cabin is filled with the aroma of freshly cut hayfields and earthy wood smoke, making even a short flight memorable.
Autumn was firmly in place last weekend. I flew to an apple orchard with a private airstrip and bought a ton of Honeycrisp apples, fresh cider, and hour-old apple cider donuts. It was part of a grassroots fly-in sponsored by EAA Chapter 838, based in Racine, Wisconsin. This is not my local branch, but I didn’t think people would mind me tagging along.
Our destination was Orchard Landing Apple Farm in Hanover, Illinois. Perched atop a quiet hill with views of the Mississippi River in the distance, the property is also home to a family-friendly airport with an 800-foot-long grass runway. The runway is as smooth as a pool table, and if friendliness were an Olympic sport, owners Nathan and Karen Greiner would definitely win a medal.
About 20 planes arrived throughout the morning, and most visitors stayed to enjoy the food trucks and bands that arrived around lunchtime. There was ample seating, including comfortable Adirondack chairs surrounding the fire pit. The Greiners even allowed a kind family to park their small travel trailer on their farm for a weekend of laid-back festivities. The only tragedy of the weekend was that I forgot to bring airplane stickers for the kids.
As it turns out, fly-in apple orchards exist in several locations around the Great Lakes.
Uncle John’s Cider Factory, located on the other side of the lake in mid-Michigan, provides customers with great undiscovered grass strips. A lively, family-friendly festival atmosphere sets the tone for Orchard Landing’s serene tranquility. Because there are so many non-navigational visitors, pilots often bring friends to protect the plane from amateur admirers and children who might try to swing from the pitot tube. I recommend you go.
The orchard airstrip I would most like to dive into is also the most daunting, and is closed to the public. Located just outside of Madison, Wisconsin, this 1,200-foot grass strip has a 2.9% slope and is elevated with tall trees on one end. Unless you’re a seasoned STOL competitor with a capable airplane, it’s a one-way, one-way strip, and even then, it’s a challenge.
As a pilot who does mundane work in the same way that other artists work with clay and oil, I have only visited that strip as a passenger and with someone who is much more skilled as a pilot. It was. But I’m practicing regularly and I’m slowly getting to the point where I think it’s safe to visit.
For now, I’m enjoying the season to the fullest, cherishing each day at a time, and not taking ownership of a plane for granted for one second.
During the day, cool air provides comfortable temperatures and improved aircraft performance, while at night, crackling bonfires and the spectacular Northern Lights bring warmth and magic. The mosquito season has finally come to an end. Most importantly, I make sure to take photos and capture the moment so that I can effectively fight back when the inevitable braggadocio arrives from San Diego in January.
If that doesn’t work, send him a screen capture of the real estate listing here in Wisconsin.
