I’d hoped to welcome the new year under two hundred pounds. I didn’t make it. I weighed 202.4 on the morning of January 1st. In spite of the disappointment, I’m much happier this year than last year, seeing as I rang in 2025 at 252.8 pounds. I’ve not been above 205 since 12 December, but I’ve yet to break through 200 consistently. It will come. The carnivore journey shall continue.
I’m still eating as much as I want, although I’ve had to decrease the size of some of my “standard” meals in order to stay in the sweet spot. For example, from the beginning, I would have a pound of sausage and eight or nine scrambled eggs. I found myself full with a good bit left on my plate (which I did eat, probably to my detriment) the last two times I had that, though. The most recent time I had that particular combination, I cut it to four eggs and was comfortably full when the food was gone. It’s not a hardship when I don’t feel deprived. I’m convinced that I’ll reach and maintain my goal weight without major adjustments to my current nutritional lifestyle. It just might take a while.
My little bird is sitting at FRR waiting in line for its annual inspection and a bit of additional work. After several flight cancelations last week due to weather, I finally got a decent day on Sunday. The headwind was less than forecast, and instead of the usual routing over towards Richmond, I got direct CSN as soon as I cleared RDU’s approach corridor. Then, about ten miles south of GVE, Potomac Approach came on the radio and said, “November 26045, you can go direct Front Royal if you want.”
The phrasing was odd, but the frequency wasn’t busy, and everyone tends to relax a bit when things are slow. That includes comms. I accepted, was given the official clearance, and turned twenty degrees left. A bit later, I figured out a possible reason for the addition of if you want. My filed final leg, CSN to FRR, would’ve taken me north of the tallest peaks in the area, the highest being 2909′, about two miles south of my route, and my time above anything resembling a mountain would have been very brief. From the position where I was offered direct destination, I passed over almost thirty miles of wildly varying terrain, some over 4,000′ just off my left wing.
The air had been smooth to that point, but crossing mountain ridges in winter at only about one thousand feet above ground level is begging for turbulence. I got said moderate turbulence the entire way from the first peak to the last. I was also nervously watching the Distance to Destination display on the GPS. I’d told them I’d take a visual approach, even though I’d never been there before and had no idea how difficult it would be to locate, because the only instrument approach in is a circling approach coming in from the northeast.
I was coming in on the perfect heading to enter left downwind for 28, but I still had one final peak between me and the valley where the airport is located when I hit eleven miles out. This was going to be fun. Clear that last peak, find the field, cancel IFR, and dump altitude from 5,000 to pattern altitude of 1,700 quick, fast, and in a hurry. Once over the peak, I saw two open areas in the direction that the GPS was pointing, at what I estimated was the now nine miles out that the GPS indicated.
I called up Potomac, canceled IFR, went rich on the mixture, flipped on the fuel pump, yanked power out, shoved the nose over, and made my first CTAF call. I still wasn’t sure where exactly the airport was. My plan was to keep flying straight towards where the GPS said it was until two miles out, be at pattern altitude at that point, and then turn to 010 for downwind 28. It would definitely be off my left wing and visible by that point. Or so I hoped. I actually positively identified the threshold at about three miles out, just before I started the turn to downwind.
According to flightaware, my descent rate hit 1,050 feet per minute at one point. Standard for small GA aircraft is 500. Don’t misunderstand, 1,000 – 1,250 is completely safe if a bit aggressive, as long as managed properly. I did fine. Airspeed hit the yellow arc, and power was back around 2,000 RPM in order to get it to fall out of the sky at that rate, but the air had smoothed out by then so all was well. The seventy-five foot wide runway compared to the one hundred foot wide runways at TTA and HWY messed with my brain a little, and on the landing I rounded off a few feet higher than normal. Once I realized what I’d done, I added a touch of power back in to soften the drop. As it is prone to do, the right side settled first, side-loading the gear a little, but it was mild.
I did learn a few things about my equipment during the flight. I’d left everything that wasn’t critical to the flight home, so there would be nothing extra to possibly get lost during the scheduled work. This included my power supply. I have a 230Wh power station that I use to power my Sentry ADSB receiver and the cooling fans on my iPad mount, and to keep my phone and secondary iPad charged during flight. It will provide DC power (USB and 12V) while charging, so I hook everything up and let the plane charge it as it powers everything. Normally, it keeps up, with the battery level being at ~98% after doing all that for a two plus hour flight. I left it at home, wanting as little to put in my flight bag for the drive home as possible.
Instead, I used my tertiary backup, a pair of (supposedly) 20Ah portable chargers to power things. They are over three and a half years old, and new were probably rated double their actual capacity, but I figured they would suffice for the expected three-hour flight. I didn’t connect the cooling fans, hooked one charger up to the iPad and the second one to the Sentry and my phone. That last part was the mistake. I forgot that the phone loses signal in the air and goes into a search/roam mode that burns power. Under normal circumstances, starting out fully charged, display off, it doesn’t need much to stay charged.
The Sentry doesn’t pull much power either. I figured one charger would easily cover that and keep my phone charged. I knew that the second one wouldn’t keep up with the iPad usage with the display at full brightness, but figured it would keep the onboard battery from dropping too much. About two hours in, the iPads popped up an alert, saying that the Sentry had disconnected. I glanced over and saw that the lights were indeed off. I grabbed an ancient charger/backup that I’d forgotten was even my flight bag (I know, I am obsessive about multiple layers of backups – you would be, too, if you’d lost your alternator on a night flight over an hour from your destination) and plugged the Sentry into it. It powered back up and stayed on for the remainder of the flight. I did notice at the time the Sentry failed that the iPad had stopped charging and was at 58% battery remaining.
The flight almost didn’t happen, though. Despite temperatures in the low 40s and the fact that I’d flown less than two weeks prior, the battery was barely up to the task. It turned over slowly, and while five strokes is usually perfect for that temperature, I didn’t seem to be able to get the amount of prime for the carburetor right. It caught but wouldn’t stay running. I refreshed the prime and tried again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Finally, it got to the point that it wouldn’t turn over at all. I set the parking brake, primed it yet again, and started to climb out to hand prop it. I was halfway out when something told me to try it one more time. I did, and that time, although it turned over very slowly, it caught and stayed running for about fifteen seconds before coughing and dying again. The battery got just enough from the alternator during that little bit of runtime to s-l-o-w-l-y turn it over again. Fortunately, it caught quickly and stayed alive that time. I added battery replacement to my squawk list.