Debi blogs

I'm way behind on my blogging.  But Debi has done some catch-up today, so you can get an idea of what we've been up to this fall:

Monahans Sandhills
Halloween
La Junta
NMOGA (in Santa Fe, NM)
AIRSHO 2012
Queen, NM (September trip)

Debi also blogged about Lake Amistad, although her blog is heavy on photos and light on text.

Houseboating Lake Amistad

A few weekends ago, we decided to go on a trip with our friends Erika and Simon, and their baby Alejandra.  We discussed renting a house on Lake Nasworthy, near San Angelo, TX, about two hours east of Midland.  But then Simon found info online about renting houseboats on Lake Amistad.  We decided that would be more fun.

Lake Amistad is a large reservoir on the Rio Grande, just west of Del Rio, TX.  The Pecos River joins the Rio Grande at the west end of Lake Amistad, and the Devils River joins at the east end.

We left town on Friday afternoon, driving south across the newly green terrain of west Texas.  This summer we've received quite a lot of rain; most areas are above average for the year.  Last year we had almost no rain.  Now, flowers are out; grass is growing; the mesquites are green again.

The drive south to Rankin isn't very scenic, but coming into Rankin presents a bit of topography with a large mesa behind the town to the south, and a sharp downhill going into town.  Rankin, like many west Texas towns, is an oil boom-and-bust town dating from the early 20th century.  Turning east we drive to Big Lake, another oil- and former railroad town.  The amount of oilfield traffic was amazing.  We make a bathroom stop at the Stripes in Big Lake, and we could barely get into (or out of) the parking lot between all the oilfield pickup trucks.  On the roads were dozens of 18-wheelers, making passing impossible and mostly futile.

South of Big Lake on 137 is a large, flat, treeless basin that used to be a lake -- the "Big Lake" that gave the town its name.  Changing weather patterns (and changing water use?) has caused the lake to dry up.  In the early 20th century, apparently the main families in town had houses on either side of the lake.  Must've been a neat place at that time.  Today, the dearth of vegetation in the dry lake bottom points to a high salt content of the soil, typical of small lakes in west Texas.

South from Big Lake, the road climbs a few long, high rises, lending a view of the pretty, green, and slightly rolling surrounding countryside of the Edwards Plateau.  137 then angles southeast toward the pretty little town of Ozona, sitting astride I-10.  On the way into town is a rather ambitious-looking earthen dam blocking off a dry wash.  The resulting "reservoir" looks like it's never held a drop of water.  I can't find any information on this structure; it may be a flood control dam, although the dry wash it blocks extends only a few miles to the northwest.  I've commented on Ozona before; a pretty town with some nice old big houses and a courthouse and school made of stone.

South out of Ozona, 163 winds its gentle way between oddly bare-looking rounded hills of grey limestone.  In some areas, it looks like recent fire has denuded the landscape.  After a few miles of easy 70-mph crusing, 163 loses its wide shoulders and gradually becomes a narrow, winding, barely 2-lane road.  The road dips repeatedly into low-water crossings of the Devils River, which flows into Lake Amistad.  On this dry and hot August day there was no water in the Devils until we reached one of the last crossings before 163 strikes out across the limestone hills to the SW.  In the last crossing, shallow blue water ran among bright green weeds and thick stands of Cottonwood and other trees.

163 deposited us onto US 90 in Comstock, TX.  We headed east on US 90 and, after a few U-turns, found the road to Lake Amistad Marina (aka Diablo East).  We arrived at 5:45 PM, and stepped out of the car into 108 degree heat.  Simon and Erika had not arrived yet, and the Marina folks told us Simon had to be there to take out the boat, because he had actually filled out the rental information online.  As we discussed this, Simon and Erika showed up and we began the process of gathering our stuff and bringing it down the substantial hill from the parking lot to the marina docks.

Lake Amistad is about 25' below "full" level; volumetrically, it is about 58% full.  So the marina docks are downhill, when "normally" they would be just below the level of the parking lot.

View Lake Amistad Houseboating in a larger map

We got our stuff loaded and the marina pilot steered the boat out into the main channel.  A motorboat from the marina picked him up and we were on our own.  I had picked up a detailed lake map from the Marina.  We followed the navigation buoys upstream along the drowned Devils River, ticking them off on the map.  The houseboat was a 50-footer with two 90 hp 2-cycle outboards.  At full throttle, it would move along at six or seven miles per hour = slow.  We chugged upstream.  It was now close to 8 PM and the sun was sinking in the western sky.  We agreed to tie up in a side canyon.  At first, we chose the wrong side canyon and had a little adventure as we backed out into the main channel.  The lake is surrounded by fairly low limestone hills, so "canyon" is a bit of a misnomer.

Full steam ahead

Eventually we found the tie-up buoy in Big Canyon and got the boat attached to it.  It was a little odd floating on this big craft in a small canyon, swinging to and fro like a windsock.

Big Canyon

I got up the next morning in time for sunrise.  Eventually everyone was stirring and we make breakfast.  

Insect on the upper deck

Debi

After a bit of trouble getting the engines started, we motored slowly out of Big Canyon and back into the main Devils River channel.  We pointed upstream and motored past some real cliffs.  Along the right (east) bank there were a number of vacation homes which we admired, although few or none had direct access to the lake below.

Dead trees along Devils River arm of L Amistad

Up the Devils River

Ale and Debi (and Mary)

Close-up of dead trees: ahhhh!

Motoring was fun but pales quickly.  We turned around and went back down the river toward the marina.  We tried to get into Twin Canyons but a number of other boats were milling around our tie-up buoy, so we continued south toward the marina.  Across from the marina we found a cove on the west side of the lake.  We tied off to a mooring buoy.  The water around was bright and blue and very warm (85 F).  Time to swim!

Mary launches off the built-in slide

Mary, the only legal fisher on the boat (we didn't catch anything)

After a few hours of swimming in the cove, we motored south of the bridges (one for US 90 and one for the railroad tracks) and followed the buoys west, along the sunken Rio Grande.  On our left was Mexico.  The lake being quite low, there were dead trees and bushes and reeds sticking up above the waters surface in many places.  We were bound for Cow Creek Canyon.  It took several hours but just as the sun began to disappear behind the horizon, we turning into Cow Creek and spotted a mooring buoy.  It was right next to some 20-30' cliffs of limestone.  We get tied off and it looked like we would swing into the cliffs.  But they have the buoys set correctly and we didn't even get close.

After another night on the boat, the next day, Sunday, we all went swimming again.  The water here seemed deeper and was less blue.  Just as we all were having a good time swimming, Simon and I realized we had to depart to make the 2+ hour trip back to the marina at the other end of the lake.

After dropping the boat at the marina we loaded up the vehicles and drove into Del Rio for a late lunch at Manuel's "Steakhouse", where I've eaten several times before.  It is not really a steakhouse but it is pretty good.

Next we parted ways and headed back to Midland.  We had all found our land legs.

The trip was fun, but it was expensive.  Two nights on the boat plus fuel, oil and cleaning fee ended up being about $1750, which the marina folks said is fairly typical.

Next time I think I might prefer to rent a house on land and rent jet skis to ride around the lake.  But there is a certain magic to being on the water all weekend.

Guadalupe - Sierra Diablo Scenic Flight

Saturday, July 21, 2012.

View Sightseeing Flight July 2012 in a larger map

Ben pulled up to my house at 6:15 am and we drove over to Schlemeyer airport in Odessa.  Preflight, check the fuel -- decide to stop in Andrews, TX to top off.  Andrews has self-serve tanks and cheap avgas, usually $1.25 less per gallon than full-serve-only at Odessa.  Off the ground at 7:15, flew the 20 minutes or so to Andrews.  Already our "early start" didn't feel early enough.  The sun was heating up the tarmac at Andrews airport.  Got off the ground with full tanks and pointed due west to Carlsbad.  Again stopped there and topped off tanks.  I wanted to have enough fuel to make Van Horn and return to Carlsbad if necessary.  No one answered the phone at Van Horn (Culberson Co. Airport), so I wasn't sure if I could get fuel there.

Stabilized dune blow-outs, drilling pads and lease roads in west Texas

The Central Basin Platform of the Permian Basin is well-drilled

Ben at the controls

Pecos River near Carlsbad.  Area looks fairly green after recent rains

After a short stop in Carlsbad, we took off and followed the front of the Guadalupe Mountains to the south.  First, past Carlsbad Caverns NP.  We could see the visitor's center and natural entrance off our right side:

Carlsbad NP

Hills outside Carlsbad, NM

Along the front of the Gaudalupe Mts into Guadalupe Mt NP.  We were careful to stay far enough back from the range that we were outside of the park itself.  They request aircraft remain 2000' AGL over the park.  The view of the various canyons cutting back into the range was quite impressive, although the sun was already too high for the best lighting for photos.  

McKittrick Canyon

We kept climbing until we were near 8000' MSL as we passed Guadalupe Peak, the highest point in Texas, which I have climbed twice, and flown past once before.

From Guad Peak we cut straight south across the Dell City bolson to the north-facing cliffs of the Sierra Diablo.  Following the front of this range east then south, we found Apache Canyon, which cuts across the northern part of the Sierra Diablo.  Staying above the canyon rims (near 8000' MSL) we following Apache Canyon across the range.  Up the side canyons were some lovely green sheltered areas with drops that must be waterfalls during rain.  We did a wide descending turn and came back into the canyon, this time below the canyon walls.  This is the way to travel through a canyon -- downhill, not up (you could get trapped by rising terrain).  I kept the power setting high and we swooped down-canyon at an airspeed of 100 mph.  Out of the canyon, we turned south along the east face of the Sierra Diablo.  We spotted a quarry associated with an intrusive stock, and eventually, near Van Horn, we saw red Ordivician and Cambrian rocks underlying the Wolfcamp-equivalent Hueco Limestone.   Quite pretty and unexpected.

 

Ord and Cambrian red rocks

We did some turns around the various talc mines in this area.  Ben did his MS field research here for his geology MS from University of Texas.  We did some low turns over some of the active and inactive talc mines.  Ben took advantage of the open-out windows in the Cessna 150 to hang his camera out and get some nice photos.  

The talc mines are associated with thrusted preCambrian rocks, and they tell a complex structural story.  Ben is writing a paper for publication describing some of the findings from his MS research.

Talc mine west of Van Horn, TX

After our talc photoshoot, we leveled off and pointed east, following I-10 toward the low mountains around Van Horn, TX.  Just on the other side of the "pass" here is Van Horn and Culberson Co. airport.  No other traffic around, we put down and took a break to eat and drink.  At the airport we talked with a guy from New York who builds homebuilt planes and helicopters.  He showed off his newest creation; a single-seat helicopter he was building.

Van Horn is kind of a neat spot.  The airport and FBO has an old-timey, run-down feel.  A few pine trees struggle in the heat.  Wildflowers line the runways and grass and weeds grow up through the taxiways.  The elevation of near 4000' makes it a little cooler than Midland-Odessa (3000'), and gives a bit of a view down onto surrounding country in west Texas.

On the ground at KVHN

The day was warming up and I could see cumulus clouds forming in the distance to the east.  We topped off on fuel and took to the air.  Gradually I managed to climb to 7000' MSL and clear the top of the Apache Mountains.  I looked around to the north for the Daniels' ranch, which we visited earlier this year for the Rock House Ranch Reunion.  I didn't spot the ranch, and I didn't want to give up precious altitude to look for it, so we pressed on towards Pecos.  The ride got bumpy although no cumulus formation was visible in the area.  The air must've been too dry to form clouds, but the thermals were still operating -- the first time I've experienced this.  About 30 minutes out of the airport, Ben fell asleep (it was around 2 PM).  The iPad (with ForeFlight) stayed on his lap and I was able to lean over and see our location without any trouble.

The thermals brought us up to 7500' and back down to 6000' repeatedly.  I tried to stay at 7500' because we were eastbound (odd thousand + 500') but it was impossible, even at full power, to stay level in the downdrafts areas.  Coming into West Odessa, Ben awoke from his nap.  We were hanging around near 8000' MSL (thanks to the lift of the thermals) so I executed a number of "roller coaster" drops to lose enough altitude to stay below Class C airspace in Odessa.  Left pattern and on the ground at KODO.  6.0 hours in the air!  We've both had enough for the day -- six hours in a Cessna 150 in one day is far too much- although it was nice and cool up at 8000'.  Rosa's cafe beckoned so we stopped on the way back home for food and drink.

Quite an advanture!  I look forward to fall and winter when the thermals die down and the air gets nice and dense.  I've built a list of scenic flight I want to do, mostly around Alpine, TX and in Big Bend.  Next time, make it a weekend and break up the flying in 3-4 hour chunks.

Snyder Airshow

Today I drove out to Schlemeyer Field in Odessa, pre-flighted my plane, and took to the sky, heading east.  I talked with Midland Approach and flew through Class C airspace, right over the runways at MAF.  I looked down from 1500' and thought about how tomorrow I will be on a United Canadair taking off from one of those runways, Houston bound.  

Time was tight.  I was running late.  I aimed the nose toward Snyder, TX, about an hours flight to the east of Odessa.  The 2012 Snyder airshow started at noon, and I got off the ground at 10:30.  Would I make the Snyder airport before it was shut down for the airshow?  I saw the NOTAM for the airshow, but I knew this was also billed as a fly-in, so I figured I could get in.

About 35 miles out I called in to the "airboss" at Snyder.  Normally it is an uncontrolled airport, but with the airshow NOTAM it becomes essentially Class D (e.g., it has an operating control tower but no radar).  With relatively little trouble I got into a right downwind for runway 17 and made an uneventful landing with 40-degree flaps -- in front of a crowd!  Who knew I would be the first act of the Snyder airshow?  Ok, I wasn't really.  Another plane or two came in after me.

I strolled over toward the FBO.  Most of the locals were sitting in the shade of the FBO or one of the hangars.  I unfolded my camp chair right up front, two feet from the yellow "do not cross" barrier.  I had the best seat in the house -- although it was plenty hot in the full sun and 97 F temps.  Just a few hardy souls joined me "up front".

My Cessna 150 at Snyder

 

Japanese "Zero"

As luck would have it, the first show of the day was formation flying by a group of Van's RV aircraft.  Now, if you know me well, you know I am very interesting in upgrading from my 1967 Cessna 150 (cruise speed 95 mph) to a Van's RV-9 (cruise speed 175 mph).  I love my little Cessna as long as I'm not at gross weight (1600 lbs) and the temps are below the mid-90s (actually density altitude below 5500 feet).  And as long as there is no tower, mountain or building in front of me -- the Cessna barely climbs at gross on a hot day.

 

RV aircraft in formation

RVs on the ground

I didn't get a chance to talk to the RV fliers, but I did note a few things.  First, all but one were tail-draggers (i.e., they have the third wheel at the back, not the front).  And second, all had the sliding canopies.  I think a taildragger endorsement is in my future.  The RVs look much, much better in that "conventional" configuration, versus the new-fangled tricycle gear.  Such as that on my 1967 Cessna.

RV's are homebuilt aircraft -- which does not mean some are not professionally built.  They are known for being fast and efficient for their (modest) power engines.  Also they all have at least moderate aerobatic capabilities, and can be set up as full-on upside-down aerobatic aircraft.

Like a kid in a 3D 100-octane candy shop, I stood up through the entire RV performance and might have been jumping up and down with joy at a few times.  As a pilot, I can imagine a little better what it must feel like to fly like that -- and to harness that power.  Of course, I have only done very pedestrian "aerobatics" in my Cessna, but I've been up there in the blue and I can imagine how it feels.  I appreciated this airshow more than any I've seen because of this pilot "familiarity-factor".

RVs on the ground, where they don't belong!

Next coolest and inspiring was the jet-powered glider display.  Now, I've seen this guy before -- but again the pilot familiarity factor entered the picture.  I was simply amazed by the bank angles this guy achieved, 100 feet of the ground.  So little margin for error!  Throw in the added "coolness" of a jet engine on a 900-pound plane, and smoke from both wingtips, and you're there.  Never mind that a jet engine is terribly inefficient at low altitude.  It was a jaw-dropping wow-stammering show.  Yes, I want to do that too.

Still a glider

Right around this time I found a key feature on my relatively new-to-me Canon G12 camera: rapid-fire continuous shooting.  It transformed my airshow photography experience.  I was able to take machine-gun shots of the glider show.  Wish I had that figured out for the RV's: I would have ten times more good pictures.   Absolutely required feature for airshows.

Part of the show was a little Vietnam War era re-enactment, where these little scout planes flew "low and slow" over the jungle and called in heavy fire from the Big Iron.  There was a second little plane like this one, painted all in olive drab.  It appears similar to a Cessna 152, but of course has tandem seating (versus side-by-side) and much more power. The olive drab plane was doing some amazing, very low speed turns and "swoops" at very low altitude.  I wish I felt that comfortable with my Cessna!  Even at 500' above ground a turn very gingerly... a couple degrees bank...  oooo, scary.

Next up were the Pitts aerobatic bi-planes.  Pretty impressive, although for some reason I'm not a huge fan of these aircraft.  The first Pitts pilot was doing his first airshow ever!  But he lacked a smoke maker, which detracts hugely from the magic.  The second Pitts was more aggressive and had the necessary smoke.

Pitts on the ground

Pitts "burning rubber"

By the time the Pitts even started, the crowd had thinned out considerably.  The sun beat silently down.  The ramp baked, strewn with discarded corn dog sticks and spattered with ketchup and spilled Cherry Lime Aid.

I waved down the fuel truck and picked up 8.6 gallons of 100 low lead for the trip home.  Pre-flighted the plane, started up and taxied out for runway 1-7.  Most of the other fly-in planes had already departed.  A Pitts taxied up behind me and I let him past.  I wanted to do my typical double run-up (one at 1700 rpm and one at 2000 rpm), and I felt pity on the Pitts pilot, who is under a tight-fitting plastic canopy.  Cessna 150 pilots like me get to taxi along with a solid aluminum roof over our heads and both windows open, if desired (and I sure did desire today).

The Pitts buzzed off and I wasn't far behind him.  Off the runway, 500' above ground, and I initiated a gentle turn to the west.  Thinking: why can't I turn like those guys in the show?  

Flying home, I kept well north of the direct route to see something new, and to avoid Class C airspace.  The sky was dotted with juvenile cumulus clouds, a sure sign of thermal activity.  The bumps began in the first mile, and they were strange: twisties, yawing the plane (nose right and left).  This is unsettling in such a small plane, and I still feel like I am in motion six hours later.  Churning westward toward Odessa, I tried "surfing" a few of the rising thermals.  I had mixed luck, because the rising shaft of air is not usually directly below the developing cloud above.  This is because the clouds are getting pushed off the thermal by the wind.  Still, a few times I caught a nice lift, up to 1200 fpm.  (Normally I can climb at around 300 fpm).  As nice as  it was to gain altitude for free, the ride was unsettling, bumping, ballooning and yawing.  Not for the weak of stomach.  

Nearing Odessa I caught a few updrafts that brought me up about 6000' MSL.  Outside of the updrafts, however, were large areas of annoying 500 fpm downdrafts.  In an aircraft as underpowered as a Cessna 150 at 6000' MSL on a hot day, it is nearly impossible to stay level in these downdrafts.  Losing altitude is a certainty.  So down, up up up, down down, up, was the path I took home.

Back into Odessa, did a full left pattern for runway 11.  It was good to be on the ground.  1.1 hours to Snyder, 1.6 hours back to Odessa, my longest cross-country after getting my pilot's license a month ago.  I now have 105 hours total flight time.

I did not expect so much out of a short trip to a little airshow in a little west Texas town.  It turned out to be one of the most fun, and perhaps most formative, trips of my aviation career (so far).

Four Flights

Thursday.  I took the afternoon off work.  The weather was ok.  I went and picked up my plane from the mechanic.  The cost was twice the already-high price I had estimated.  I taxied my plane over to the old FBO (they are building a new one) at KODO.  I had flight planning from a few weeks ago.  I called 1-800-WXBRIEF and got the current weather and winds aloft.  Finished my flight planning and Josh checked it.  Then we went for a flight, did the pattern three times or so.  Winds were very light. After flying Josh said I was good to go.  I asked him a bunch of questions about coming into (and leaving) Hobbs, which is a class D airport (towered).  We topped off the fuel and I went through the startup checklist. I had all my paperwork: airport diagrams, frequencies, and my iPad with GPS for navigation.  For backup I had my sectional charts.  Not long and I took off and turned WNW for Hobbs.  The air was smooth and 45 minutes or so later and I listened to Hobbs weather, then called up Hobbs.  No problem, they gave me the expected runway.  I landed and they told me where to taxi.  I requested immediate departure from the runway I had just landed on.  Cleared, I took off and headed nearly due south for Wink, TX.  

It was hard to climb.  The little 150 is a bit underpowered.  It'd be nice to have an extra 50% and really climb.  I stayed pretty low on the way to Wink.  Near Wink I listened to their weather and found winds right for the planned runway.  Uncontrolled airport, I self-announced on the CTAF frequency and entered the patten, and landed.  Taxied to the FBO where two pilots were cleaning up a really nice turbine helicopter.  Inside I found the old man attending the airport/living in the FBO.  It was around 7 PM, sun sets a bit after 8 PM.  The old guy filled up my tanks, they only took 9.5 gallons.  I chatted with the helicopter pilot and drank a diet Coke.  The helicopter pilots were stringing high-tension power wires using the helicopter.  They told me about it a while but I saw I needed to get back to Odessa.  Taxi, back in the air, not far east to Odessa.  I could see the town long before I got there, and I was a little impatient.  Entered the pattern and landed.  Josh was there and thankfully had a pizza.  I was starving and thirsty.  

Friday morning [Holiday= Good Friday] I drove to Big Spring, TX and took my FAA Private Pilot exam at US Flight Academy.  It was much easier than I expected.  I drove home.  Debi was picking up Mary in San Antonio and then camping for a few days in New Braunfels, TX, just north of SA.  After arriving at home I got a text from Josh asking if I wanted to fly with him in a Cirrus SR22 from Midland to Borger, TX and back.  Of course I jumped at the chance.

This particular SR22 is a turbo, capable of cruising at around 250 mph TAS.  Just about an hour to Borger, which is up in the Texas panhandle.  About an hour flight.  On the way we passed over Lubbock, Amarillo, and Palo Duro Canyon.  Pretty red rock country.

In Borger we picked up our passenger and Josh took over the left seat.  It's fun to cruise along so fast up at 11,000 feet.  The way back was bumpy.  We were under the few cumulus clouds.  I started to like the SR22, which I've flown before.  Now I have about 10 hours in them, although half of that time was right seat.  Josh gave me more of an intro to the flight systems, autopilot, flight director, and engine management.

Saturday morning Josh called me.  I had just gotten out of bed.  "Hey, are you ready with your flight planning for another solo cross country?".  I told him I could be ready by noon.  I pulled out my flight planning materials and planned a trip from Odessa to Upton Co. airport in McCamey, TX, and then to Big Spring, where I had taken the FAA test the day before.  

Got to the airport and Josh said he'd waive his normal requirement to fly with me between solo x-countries, counting our SR22 flight the day before.  He checked my planning and off I went.  I felt more confident this time -- until I was in the air.  Forecast was for thunderstorms later in the day.  Took off to the north and turned west to steer clear of Midland's class C airspace, passing the airport (KODO) on my left.  Bumpy, unsettling air.  I pointed south and tried to climb to 6,000' MSL.  Bang, push, twist.  A few gusts hit my wing and pushed it up.  My hands were sweaty.  

I eventually made it to 6,000' MSL, but then began to experience updrafts of 1100+ feet per minute, followed by extended downdrafts of 200-400 fpm.  At full power, at 3,000' MSL (the approximate elevation of KODO), the Cessna 150 climbs at 500-600 fpm.  So in a downdraft at 6,000' MSL on a warm day, I can barely hold altitude, even if I go to full power.  It was unsettling and it seemed to take forever to reach the windmill-encrusted mesa that I knew was just north of McCamey.

Mesa north of McCamey, TX

Seeing the mesa, I began to descend from 6,000' down to near 4,000'.  Again in the grip of downdrafts and updrafts, I found it difficult to arrest the descent I had set up in.  Finally I cleared all the windmills and called on CTAF to Upton Co. airport, with its single little E-W runway.  No activity.  I overflew the airport to get a good look at the windsock (no weather recording here) and it was lined up more or less perfectly for runway 1-0.  It was right traffic so I turned a wide right and came in near perfectly for 1-0.  Stopped on the ground, 180'd back to the start of 1-0 and took off.  To the NE this time, toward rising terrain.  Up over the mesa, riding one mild updraft that brought me to a safe 500' AGL so I could start a gentle turn.

Leaving McCamey

Now heading NE toward Big Spring, I found myself in no-man's-land.  Big Spring can be a busy airport (but it's non-towered).  It seemed like a long way, bumping and bouncing in the air, my hands still sweating.  I rode some thermals to 5,500' MSL but then I would find myself descending again, at around 80% power, back to 5,000' and below.  Finally the GPS said I was 15 miles out of Big Spring so I listened to their weather and, 10 miles out, called to the CTAF.  Came in on 2-4, pointing approximately west.  Taxied to the FBO and found I had missed them by three minutes.  Shut down and texted Josh.  Checked my fuel and found I should've had plenty to get back to KODO.  Started up, looked up and there was an attendent/instructor there.  I shut down and he topped off my tanks, again about 9.5 gallons.

Clouds were building up, looking stormy.  Check the weather again and the light wind had shifted almost 180 degrees, such that I took off on runway 6, the exact opposite direction I had landed.  Took off toward rising terrain.  Thankfully an updraft quickly brought me up to 800' AGL, where I executed a broad left turn, over the western part of the pretty town of Big Spring.  I lined up just north of I-20 and headed west-ish toward Midland.  20 miles out I called up Midland Approach and get a squak code for their class C airspace.  They vectored me north around Midland Aipark for an approaching King Air, which I never saw.  Not long and I was cleared direct to KODO, got the weather, picked a runway (2) and landed.   It was a neat landing, because coming in I felt low, swooping over the city in left turns to base and final, then found myself quite high over the numbers (at the beginning of the runway).  Pushed down the flaps from 30 degrees to 40 and angled down for the runway, holding about 62 mph.  An agressive flare and power-off and I swooshed along a few feet off the runway, bleeding speed until I touched down at about 35 mph, feeling like a butterfly alighting on a flower.  Back-taxied on 2 and to my hangar, put up the plane and called Josh.  He was not around so I patted myself on the back and headed home.

I was pretty sure my flying for the weekend was over.  But Easter Sunday around noon, I got a text from Josh: want to round-trip to Borger again in the SR22?  Yes.  From KODO to Borger with our passenger, then back again.  We flew over Tahoka Lake, where I went last year with Sibley Nature Center when my Tacoma was brand new.  I got to thinking that with a commercial pilot's license, an IFR rating, and an SR22 school, I could fly people around in one of these.

Tahoka Lake from 11,000' MSL

Now my Private Pilot License is a few more lessons and then a check-ride away.  But I realize now it's just a license to learn, and I will still have pretty severe personal weather minimums.  Trips to Big Bend will be a big, big deal at first.  And to practice and fly IFR, I will need a different plane.