As I climb into my historic biplane, I imagine I’m off in pursuit of the Red Baron. In reality, I’m at Pioneer Airport, part of the EAA Aviation Museum in Oshkosh, on a breezy summer day, and the clear blue sky is about to become my playground. The actual pilot, Fred Stadler, checks that I can hear him via the headphones that double as hearing protection from the roaring engine not 6 feet away.
It’s time to pick your Milwaukee favorites for the year!
Stadler, who got his license in 1967, has tallied more than 5,000 biplane flights in his two decades at EAA, taking people up for the pure pleasure of it.
My seat, an open hole in the fuselage, is in front of his. I am the meat in the sandwich of the stacked double wings, which, I notice, are merely frames wrapped with a stretched fabric painted bright yellow – the norm in the early days of flight.
We taxi into a field of grass so green it could be a fairway. Fred ramps up the engine, and we accelerate quickly, and soar up over drivers on I-41 unaware of our little everyday miracle of flight.
Soon we are cruising at about 90 mph, 500 feet above verdant farmland, ponds sparkling in the sun. Back in 1929, this Travel Air biplane “was like a rocket ship … when automobiles went about 30 mph on unpaved roads,” says Stadler.
Pioneer Airport is open daily from Memorial Day to Labor Day, 10:30 a.m.-4:30 p.m. Passengers must be at least 16 years old to ride in the biplanes. No appointment is necessary, and there is rarely a wait. Each flight ($95) lasts 15-20 minutes. There are also free Young Eagles Flights – rides for youths ages 8-17 in a closed-cabin plane.
A small windshield shelters me from the rushing wind, and when I hold my phone out for a picture, I understand two caveats: the gale beyond the windshield can rip it from your hands, and, if you are shooting video, the frame rate may match the engine so that the propeller looks as if it has stopped. Don’t panic.
I am not free to move about the cabin; I am one with this thing, feeling it lift on an updraft and drop again like a leaf in the wind. All my senses hum with the engine.
Stadler banks the plane, and I see trees and a barn so close to the end of the wing that I feel like I could touch it. While this isn’t unsettling for me, it does tickle my sense of wonder, and I marvel at the phenomenon of flight and how insignificant we are in such a small craft.
Any banking maneuvers are gentle, typical of pilot training routines and appropriate for passengers – no barrel rolls, loop-de-loops or other aerobatics. Depending on your preference, the pilot flies between 500 feet (for close-up views) and 2,000 feet (to see wider views and perform gentle maneuvers).
We return to the airfield with a flyby along the runway, and for a moment I imagine what a barnstormer or crop duster might feel flying so close to the ground.
We rise back in the air and come around again to land. Stadler cuts back the engine, and still we remain above the green grass as if we are too light to touch down. But in a moment we alight, and then roll smoothly back to our parking spot at the edge of the field.
Can I go again, please?
