Planning Stages continued
February 23, 1988, 6:15 a.m. At the diner.
Everyone is asking me, when my journey will start. My sights are set toward late spring, or early summer, but soon, I'll have to try to approximate how long it'll take and set a starting date. I really have no idea. If I had my own plane it would be easy to figure out. I'd just draw a projected line on the map of the USA, measure the distance, then multiply by airspeed, add extra time for weather and fudge factor and I'd have my answer. Problem is, I don't know how many times I'm going to get stranded, what speeds the aeroplanes will be flying, how often weather will hold us up, and the biggest unknown is the the route that will unfold.
I'm guessing the entire journey will take anywhere from four to seven months, but I just don't know. One major fear though, is the thought of getting stuck somewhere in northern Idaho, in ten feet of snow, in the late winter, waiting for the weather and radial engines to thaw so I can get back home.
March 3, 1988 2 p.m. In my motor home.
This thing is turning into a monster. I'm now getting about fifteen to twenty letters a week, many of them from people with whom I've corresponded once or twice already. I reply to everyone who writes me and I’m trying to memorize their names and states—looking forward to meeting them in person—and feel really lucky to be making so many new friends. My master list has grown to include about 125 people from 32 states.
May 17, 1988 noontime. In my motorhome.
I set the leaving date for May 28, 1988, so there are only ten more days to plan. For weeks, I’ve been packing, choosing just the right items to take along. I’ve been sewing things and combing the Zellwood Antique Flea Market for things to wear. Found the greatest old leather high-laced boots there last weekend that fit perfectly. The guy said they are from the 1920's. They'll go perfect with my jodhpurs. I also found a fantastic old WWI leather helmet and "Lindbergh-style" pair of goggles at a booth at Sun ’n Fun, in Lakeland, Florida a few weeks ago.
It has been challenging trying to plan to pack enough for a trip that will take several months, yet pack no more than will fit into the small cargo compartment of an open cockpit aeroplane. We’re not talking Samsonite luggage, here.
My packing list:
Pilot Logbook; Master list of contacts; journal; pen, pencil and marker; Rand McNally USA Mapbook; Pilot map of USA showing all listed airports; camera & film; mini tape recorder; postage stamps; Flying Magazine w/ Gordon Baxter’s article; Air Adventurers Membership cards to hand out; my pilot license (real) and a second (not real) antique-looking pilot license—just for fun to go with my antique flying clothes. Clothing: Goggles (1 pair tinted, 1 clear); helmet; white silk scarf; high-laced brown boots; ankle-high Victorian black boots; two pairs of jodhpurs; black cotton antique blouse; white muslin and lace blouse; black tafetta scallop-hemmed long skirt; vintage outfit I styled and sewed, patterned after a photograph of early parachutist Dolly Shephard; canvas cargo coat; 3 pairs antique ribbed knee sox; understuff; plain t-shirt; cotton shorts; blue jeans; and lightweight tennis shoes. Also: small bag of cosmetics, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and hairbrush.
To carry all of the above, I’ve found, a sturdy canvas WWII parachute bag; a 1920’s 8 x14” canvas Wells Fargo bag; and a I sewed a garment bag from a piece of an old olive drab Army parachute.
Friday, May 27, 1988 10 p.m. In my motor home.
Tomorrow’s the big day! All day today I rushed around taking care of last minute details, including unplugging my motor home from its phone cord and water hose at Orlando Country Airport, and driving a mile down the road to store it in a tropical Florida lot behind Ronnie’s sign shop. Also, I did a radio and a TV interview—my first ever—how frightful and fun those were!
The gate to the sign shop’s lot was locked when I came back this evening for one more night of slumber in my motor home. So, I parked my little car outside the six-foot wire fence and had to climb over it to get to my motorhome. Well, I’m just glad to see that it will be safely stored here. I’ve set my clock to go off at 5 a.m. — what a dreadful thought.
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