The Fly Oz Club hosts a gathering on the upper patio at Bentonville Municipal Airport (KVBT) on the first Thursday of every month. I can drive over an hour in traffic, or take a 15 minute Cub flight. On this evening, winds were calm, clouds were friendly, and the sun was setting. Landing on 17 Grass was never in question. I’m thankful every day for these flying opportunities and the beauty that is so very accessible in Northwest Arkansas.
In terms of piloting skills, you need three things: currency, proficiency, and a willingness to learn the rules to make a safe cross-country “race.” In fact, a newly minted private pilot, within weeks of receiving their initial ticket, has successfully completed the AVC. Again, the AVC is not a close-formation, closed-course race around pylons. It is a cross-country race over the beautiful Wisconsin countryside.
“What’s the most dangerous flight you’ve made?” Non-pilots often expect tales of death-defying aerobatics or wild weather—but for me, danger can be surprisingly subtle. In this story, I share a flight in my Cub over the Dallas–Fort Worth Metroplex at just 1,000 feet AGL, constantly scanning for safe landing spots and dodging traffic alerts. It wasn’t reckless—it was sightseeing low and slow, where the beauty of the country comes with small, inherent risks. A tale of vigilance, preparation, and the quiet thrills of general aviation.
A flight to explore some of the backcountry strips around Northwest Arkansas did not go exactly as planned. Winds were stronger than expected, and they were swirling in the hills. Most of the strips I planned to visit were blown out. I do this for fun, and these landings would not have been fun. So, I just spent a couple of Hobbs Hours flying around and seeing the sights. Sometimes, the best sight is in the sky above.
The airshow was a myriad of wonderful performers and warbirds painting the blue skies with their passes. The sounds of the engines provided the soundtrack for what was just a wonderful and very memorable day. Seeing a Supermarine Spitfire passing by was truly a treat. It’s just amazing to think what these machines accomplished 80+ years ago. It’s a privilege to see them flying still today.
Tailwheel flying has a way of humbling even the most confident pilot—and that’s exactly why it’s worth pursuing. In this humorous and insightful piece, Serrhel Adams reflects on the lessons, surprises, and pure joy that come with conventional-gear flying. From Cub mornings to GameBird departures, he makes the case for earning your tailwheel endorsement and rediscovering the simple fun of stick-and-rudder flying.
Precision flying in the backcountry can be important. Thankfully, Byrds provides plenty of room for practicing precision. The runway is long, the go around is forgiving, and the scenery is spectacular. Just check the DA before you go in heavy. There was plenty of runway, but I was spending the day trying not to waste any under my tires as I was working on spot landings.
One afternoon, while my wife took a break, I went on a solo exploration. It was during this time that a chance encounter would change everything. I walked by a Lancair covered in sponsor logos, with large numbers on the tail. I noticed several other airplanes with similar numbers. I had stumbled into parking for the AirVenture Cup Race.
For Serrhel Adams, flying has always been a passion. But when his mother’s health declined, it became a lifeline — a way to be present for the moments that mattered most.
It was my first trip back to AirVenture in a long time. Watching the airshow with my wife and tens of thousands of others who love all that Oshkosh provides. The Aeroshell Team was and is one of my favorites. The sounds of the radial engines, the massive amount of smoke, and the precision flying form an aerial ballet that touches my soul.
I approach every flight with an instructor with a plan of my own. I don’t just show up because the calendar says it’s time. I bring specific goals, real-world questions, and skills I want to sharpen. My annual IPC isn’t about checking FAA boxes; it’s about tackling challenges I’ve faced over the year and flying approaches that have pushed me.
Eddie was in his 60s when I met him, sitting in his hangar office. I introduced myself, but he never used my name. To him, I was “Ace,” like all his students. Eddie was incredibly personable and sold me on flying with him from that first meeting. He flew a Piper Cherokee 180, N7630C, and his rate—aircraft, fuel, and instruction—was $40 an hour. I booked my first flight.
Twelve days without flying is hard on the psyche. Finally, a break in the rains allowed me to hop up in the cub. My buddy, Brady, reached out, and we connected on the air to air frequency. He had to drag everything to slow to cub speeds for a brief interlude in the sky. An original classic with a new model based on a classic, made for a memorable encounter.
Our aircraft have annual inspections. And during those inspections, areas are opened and examined for deficiencies, including corrosion. Areas that we use daily and those small hard to get to locations are examined as well. As it turns out, corrosion can show up where you least expect it. Specifically, in the guy sitting at the controls flying the aircraft through the sky.
I had been out of the Cub for a while, so I was itching to get up for a flight. Sometimes, the sole purpose of the flight is to fly. And, this was such an occasion. Finally, the spring skies cleared, the cross winds faded, and I could get up in the cub. There was no plan for Mother Nature to put on the show that she did, but calm winds, a calm lake, and a few clouds provided the scenery in which I was in desperate need.
On very short notice, my wife and I were able to grab a bag, throw our things together without worrying about fluids, gels, etc., head to the airport, and depart. We had a wonderful weekend with our friends. Then we were able to leave on our own schedule for home. All without TSA, long lines, parking fees, and everything else. General aviation creates opportunities that other modes of transportation can’t provide.
Its hard to have a better time than exploring AirVenture with a camera on a beautiful summer day. The aircraft make the most beautiful subjects and the EAA grounds combined with the Wisconsin skies make for beautiful backgrounds.
Over the last several months, I have committed several aviation sins. I once went on a flight without checking the weather. I recently departed without calculating my takeoff distance or obstacle clearance. On more than one occasion, I landed from a non–“stable approach,” being both below and above target approach speeds. I’ve flown non-standard traffic patterns. I’ve flown outside the glide range to the nearest airport. I’ve even flown without talking to ATC or filing a flight plan.
In my airplane, I am the source of reliability—or unreliability. The flight doesn’t leave without me. If I don’t like the weather, I don’t go. If I need to divert, I can. I choose my departure time. I build in margins. And most importantly, I have the authority—and practice—to say “no.”
The rain finally broke, and the brave at heart finally started arriving at the remote fly-in. Individuals lined the runway to enjoy planes of all sorts performing fly-bys. All done for no other reason then to enjoy the machines in their natural environment. This T-6 kept the radial engine purring and provided a bit of smoke for ambiance. No one complained.