October 26, 2021 Amarillo by Midday

The Liberty Gazette

October 26, 2021

Ely Air Lines

By Mike Ely and Linda Street-Ely

Linda: We’ve been teased by the recent cooler weather, just a taste of lovely autumn (without the unparalleled leaf-peeping in the country’s northeast). We did that once, about a decade ago, made up our own “Fall Foliage Flying Tour” through New England states. In Maine, there’s an ice cream store on nearly every corner, and they all tout the best blueberry frozen treats. The folks in New Hampshire compete ferociously in the maple arena, claiming “those folks across the Connecticut River paint their leaves,” as they hand over a bottle of their best syrup. I would love to take another fall trip like that, but this time, Amarillo offered a divergent stand-in. Not for a whole week, thankfully, but a one-day jaunt. Just up and back in the Elyminator. 

When we plan a full day, we pack a lunch and plenty of water, in case we have unexpected delays. That happened once when we were flying out to visit some of Mike’s siblings in Arizona and Nevada. The vacuum pump began to fail somewhere between here and Midland, which was our planned fuel stop. Fortunately, there was a mechanic on the field there. Unfortunately, there was a storm coming. Fortunately, the mechanic worked fast. He must have replaced it in record time. But still unfortunately, the black sky was bearing down on Midland. Fortunately, we flew out just in time. 

But this day was sunny, with lower temps and less humidity. A check of the weather along our route showed we could snag a tailwind at a lower altitude on the way up and higher for the trip back. Before we could climb to 4,500 feet, we had to get past the arrivals into Intercontinental. An airliner descending from the east crossed above and ahead of us a few miles. The air was smooth until we went through their falling wake turbulence a few minutes later. The disrupted, swirling air gave us a nudge, but not too bad, as the wake was dissipating. 

Once past Houston’s airspace and back in smooth air, we climbed to our cruise altitude and pointed the nose toward “the yellow rose of Texas,” sometimes called, “Rotor City, USA” for its V-22 Osprey hybrid aircraft assembly plant. In-flight dining service started at some point during the 475-nautical-mile trip. We unpacked cold spaghetti left-overs, careful to hold the containers close to the chin to avoid sprinkling the airplane with Rao’s spaghetti sauce. It was a good thing we finished before reaching Palo Duro Canyon, because the wind picked up about that point, and the ride turned bumpy. 

Mike: As the canyon seemingly slid beneath the wings of the Elyminator, my imagination took flight. Those wind-carved spires and water-worn washes had cut side canyons down from the caprock, meandering into the Red River. This is kind of place where the western novel would grow to epic proportions. And we, like an eagle or hawk, buzzed above the storied land as Terry Stafford’s famous song played in my head.

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