The Liberty Gazette
May 13, 2014
Ely Air Lines
By Mike Ely and Linda
Street-Ely
Mike: With the last of
the camping gear packed into the Elyminator we climbed in and took off into the
brilliant afternoon sunshine for a short flight north. Critters were awaiting
us – it was time again for the not-to-be-missed Critters Lodge Fly-in at the Dillard
Ranch near Centerville, Texas.
With the Southeast Texas landscape sliding beneath our wings we
joined a hundred or so other airplanes bringing aviation lovers to descend upon
the 3,000 foot grass strip.
Tents sprung up at campsites the full length of the runway, on
both sides, with more people staying in RV campers, and a few in the newly
finished lodge.
These fly-ins bring together old friends and the opportunity to
make new friends, all hosted by the very gracious Wendell and Beverly Dillard
and their incredible team of volunteers.
Bev and friends work for hours on their feet cooking, cleaning,
cooking again, cleaning again, and again, so that meals are provided for their
guests all weekend. Long rows of picnic tables invite community seating with a
perfect view out the open hangar doorway to the midpoint of the runway.
Linda: Mike’s landing
between the tall stands of trees that line the runway was spot-on and Wendell
directed us to a nice quiet clearing to pitch the tent next to our plane. Even
as we were still taxiing I began to see friends and familiar airplanes, such as
Jim Doyle and his daughter Darcy, who arrived in the beautiful yellow and
blue Skybolt biplane Jim built.
Wendell spends the day with a hand-held radio communicating with
pilots flying in to ensure a safe environment. At one point he was suddenly
needed in the expansive hangar-turned-cafeteria-with-commercial-kitchen because
one of the ovens was not working properly. There would soon be hungry mouths to
feed. With a break in air traffic, Wendell darted into the 4,000 square foot
hangar, repaired the oven, and was back outside before the next airplane
arrived.
Mike: Pitching the tent
in the waning last light as the sun dropped behind the trees, we hurried down
to the mess-hangar.
Afterward on our romantic walk down one side of the runway and
then the other we encountered dark silhouetted figures and glowing faces as
campers sat around telling tales while the campfires crackled and flared.
Here, all is quiet as the darkness deepens. Half-way between Dallas and Houston
the city lights no longer dim our view of the night sky and the stars begin to
carpet the heavens. We snuggled into our evening quarters keeping the mosquito
net closed but the tent fly open for gazing at constellations, planets, and the
occasional satellite moving from horizon to horizon.
As we slept the temperature dropped to a cozy 44 degrees – a
perfect night, handed over to a perfect morning, sunlight gently nudging us
awake.
Crawling out of our shelter we were greeted by crisp air and the
buzz of a prop on a plane that goes whirring by on take-off. Back to the hangar
for breakfast, joining others milling about in great spirits at the prospects
of a wonderful campground day. Nobody was in a particular hurry to do anything
except the occasional pilot taking off to make a few low passes down the runway
to the delight of the gathered observers. After breakfast we joined in the
festivities and made a few go-arounds of our own.
