Darryl Zook - RV8

One of the forces that drive the need for flight

Last year on the way back from Lake Elmo I went well North of Class B and up to 6500, then 8500, then 10500. There was a broken cloud layer between each of those altitudes and the sunset between each layer was awesome, surreal and un-earthly. Reds on purples on deepest blues, unimaginable shapes and combinations of dim and bright, with no universe seen above and no earth seen below. Being an IFR pilot in an IFR equipped plane, it was peace of mind to know if I got stuck I could call approach and let down through IMC. But I didn’t have to, because the floor below me was a disconnected maze of holes followed by another floor of holes and then another floor of holes, the final seconds of sunset lighting my way back to earth through the maze, finally breaking out to see the lights of cars streaming along highways, and lonely porch lights of country homes, and somewhere down there were my friends and family. During those kinds of flights I am humbled that I have been allowed in this life to experience it, and I realize out of the millions and millions of Twin Cities gravity-bound, earth-constrained, soul-searching wanderers, I am only one of a few hundred who could even have the opportunity, likely only one of a half dozen who experienced that proximal sky, and surely the only one who was given witness to precisely that stream of space and time. It is a mix of emotions, melancholy and grateful at the same time.

It was the best of times, and it was the worst of times

I set a new personal record for myself in October 2012.  I flew at 17,500 feet.  I got my oxygen system a couple days before, and had to test it of course.  In the past 30 years as PIC I had never taken an aircraft past 13,500.  That day, on the way to Boscobel Wi, for 45 minutes I cruised just under airspace reserved only for IFR dudes and airliners.  I guess I was expecting a flash of light and the sensation of being sucked down a worm hole through the heart of the universe, but it really was no big deal at all.  It wasn’t any different than flying at 11,500, or 3,500, except that I checked my O2 flow every five minutes, as well as my engine readings and the CO detector as if that had anything to do with anything.  A couple times I hit some random light chop that made my heart skip a beat, maybe I thought I was going to stall out in the super-thin air of moon-space and spin back down to mother earth, as if chop had anything to do with anything at all.  I had an IAS of 125, TAS of 161, and GS of 185, and even TAS=196 once.  And with my new heat muffs, I was not feeling a wee bit cold.  It was the best of times.

That evening, to celebrate my conquering of the universe, I grilled burgers using a random thought process of adding salsa and BBQ sauce to the meat prior to making patties, to produce the very worst burgers I have ever made in my life.  The mix was so runny I had to put tin foil on the grill to keep the patty from falling through, and the end result was with me scraping the patty off the foil which ended up as ground burger-bits in a bowl that could only be used in a tortilla.  It was the worst of times.

All in all, I was pleased with my Saturday.  I set a record for myself and survived.  And, by the way, I greased the 3-point landing at Anoka, best 3-point landing I can ever remember, probably because I had plenty of O2 in my veins.

Some specs:

Lycoming IO-360 Angle Valve, 200 HP.  Dual Bendix magnetos with one an impulse mag

Whirlwind 200RV c/s prop.

Dual “Tom Berge” heat muffs and valve.

Whelen 3 strobe system

Classic Aero leather interior

IFR panel, instrument descriptions shown in picture

Some additional photos for your entertainment!!