Airport security begone!

Friday morning, get up at 4:15 AM, put on your socks and pants and one hopes the right shirt, comb hair (ha!) brush teeth and try to remember why it’s so dark outside. Oh yeah, we have a flight to catch. A flight where I can take a knife and keep my shoes on and there are no X-ray machines or scowling bureaucrats. Just drive a mile down the road from the house to our pilot’s favorite landing spot because there is such a long downhill for a smooth takeoff and altitude gain without having to break a sweat. At 6:30 Richard Ambrosini comes in and touches down like he’d done it ten thousand times. Forty years of experience sure shows. He had already picked up Susie Hickman at her ranch near Friant. So it was Adeline, Karla and me to fill out the load.
Thirty-five minutes later we were over Florence Lake. The air during the entire flight was unusually calm, which suited us just perfectly. The only problem from a photographer’s viewpoint was that we spent almost the entire time flying toward the sun. Lots of windshield glare, and the usual springtime bug spatters.
After a 40-minute flight, we set down in Blayney Meadow. Richard took off his headphones and announced, “We’re here!” to which I added, “Wake up, everybody!” He commented, “That looks like frost on the grass,” and he was right. It was just flat cold! Hilary and Ron and Sioux and Sallie were waiting for us with one of the ranch trucks, and took Susie and Adeline in while Hilary, Karla and I walked to the ranch.

The only reason I was on this flight was that the venerable Pelton power plant was not regulating properly. Since I was the last person to ever sit at the master’s knee and hear the secrets of its operation, I was the one to resurrect it. Karl Smith told me once, “Tom, you’re the only person I know who can understand how to keep this ranch running.” He was exaggerating of course, but not much (cue the laugh track here). Since the old operating manual that showed every part and its function and how to adjust everything was missing, Luke was reluctant to tear into the machine. I was conned to return to the ranch and reveal my fading understanding (slowly rotting mind, y’know). Luke and I had a ball taking the three-foot-tall regulating mechanism totally apart, from the spinning flyball governor to the brass-shimmed base, something I had never done. Luke discovered that fifty years of aging had mis-aligned a critical drive shaft, and corrected that problem with a flourish of tin-snip wizardry. We were mutually amazed at the simplicity, complexity, and sheer beauty as each piece was brought out to sunlight for the first time in fifty years. There was evidence of corrosion because somehow water got into the hydraulic fluid. The job ended up as a cleaning operation, getting rid of sludge and polishing some corroded parts.

We started taking the machine apart around 11 o’clock Friday morning. By noon Saturday morning it was up and humming and giving us 63,000 watts of power if we wanted. The rest of the day was spent cleaning up the mess and putting the tools away. I stayed overnight and came out Sunday on horseback!! Not a helicopter in sight. Oh well, I guess you have to strike a balance.