Philip Robert

As we pulled up to the little grass airstrip a couple of young whitetail fawns were having a snack in front of the hangers. One flitted into the woods right away. The other took a couple of strides and then stopped. It seemed to be considering us for a moment. When I first spotted the little spotted deer I grabbed my Canon GL-1 video camera hoping that it would power up in time for me to get a shot. Typical, we were coming out to go flying and my plan was to shoot some video of John’s RV-6, not whitetail. The little fawn paused just long enough to tease me, then it too disappeared into the woods.

The RV-6 we were coming to see was inside the hanger behind us. A little white jewel shining like a diamond in the dust. Two small cub tractors and an ATV were parked next to the plane. John explained that the tractors were used to mow the airstrip. Said it takes him and his wife about an hour.

Walking around the plane looking at the workmanship I asked John how many hours it took him to build? He said he never kept track of the hours so I asked him, “how long from start to first flight?” To which he responded “thirteen years.” Who says thirteen is an unlucky number. This little plane is an exercise in diligence. John told me that he built it as he could afford it. Worthwhile goals may not be easy, but they’re usually worth it.

Three of us had come out for rides. My brother David, his father in law Frank, and myself. We flipped coins to see who would go first and Frank had the pleasure of winning the toss. John explained to him how to get into the cockpit and strap in, and soon they were off into the wild blue of Arkansas’ yonder. I made sure to capture the take off on my video camera then went back to the hanger to chat with David. Presently the boys came buzzing the field in a spectacular fly over. I grabbed my video camera and ran out to capture the landing. It was my turn to fly, and I was excited.

Frank climbed out, we made a quick adjustment to the harness and I climbed in. It’s been over ten years since I’d been in a light plane, and this one was a sports car. John and I are both pretty big men so the fit in the RV’s small cockpit was a tad bit tight. This is a sport plane, not a luxury business jet. Soon we had taxied out to the end of the runway. Wind was steady at about 7 knots. John accelerated smoothly down his grass airstrip.

We lifted off easily and soon passed 1000 feet in altitude. My God this thing climbs like mad. The last time I was in a plane with this kind of performance it was an old WWII T-6 trainer in San Diego. I looked down to see the White River snaking its way through the Ozark Mountains. Time to shoot some video.

The RV-6 isn’t the best camera plane if you’re inside shooting out. I’d love to mount a video camera under the wing with a good gyroscopic remote. The RV’s low stall speed of 50 mph and it’s performance would make it an excellent camera ship.

John asked me if I wanted to fly… I think I might have grinned. A little. I dropped my video camera behind the seats, and took the flight controls. Tentatively I tried a small turn. Quickly I had us in a 45 degree bank and the little plane came around like it was on rails. It was a bit of a trick to keep the altitude level. The altimeter kept telling me that I was climbing. Once I’d come to heading and leveled out I thought I’d try a little experiment. Time for a 360. We were steady at 3000 feet. A quick look around for other aircraft and I put the stick over. At 45 degree bank with the nose pointed at the horizon I figured that we were in a tight turn flying level. The engine was singing beautifully. The g’s were pressing up on the seat of our pants. The altimeter was climbing. Climbing! How could that be? In the course of doing the 360 I managed to climb 1000 feet without even thinking about it. This was certainly no Cessna 150. Maybe we were in a thermal.

Into the Wild Blue Arkansas Yonder in an RV-6 from Philip Robert on Vimeo.

Flying down the river for a bit I began looking for our home field. I could see a paved airport not far away. I supposed it’s because I’m not used to grass strips. I couldn’t find it so I had to ask John. There it was nestled in between the river and a little mountain. A few more minutes, and I figured it was time to head back so David could go for a ride.

I would have loved to take the RV in for a landing. Instead I turned the controls over to John. It’s been 10 years since I’ve made any kind of landing, and longer since I’ve landed a tail dragger. John lined us up and brought us in. It felt like we were coming in high. I looked at the tree line in front of the runway. It’s better to be higher than the trees for sure. Once we were over the threshold John slipped the little plane down and we touched ground about halfway down the runway. What a rush! Flying off of a grass strip into the wild blue Arkansas yonder.