Air Race Classic
by Captain Jessica Stearns

In the spring I received a call from my friend, and No. Jersey Ninety Nines member, Marilyn Patierno, who asked if I'd be interested in flying the Air Race Classic. You remember the Powder Puff Derby, don't you? The ARC replaced it 25 years ago.

Marilyn had already registered, but needed a copilot, as two pilots are required for each airplane. Being a retired airline pilot and acting as my own scheduler, the decision process took about two seconds.

Marilyn had already selected a late model Cessna 172SP (180HP). The race was to start at San Diego's Gillespie Field, CA, June 26th, and end at Sporty's, Batavia, OH, by 1700, June 29th. The route would take us to Williams, AZ, Gallup, NM, Ft. Sumner, NM, Pratt, KS, Hot Springs, AR, Fayetteville, TN, then to Batavia, OH; a distance of 1933.25 NM. Where'd that .25 come from? My navigation dividers were never that sharp.

I was the designated weather pilot for our team. We departed NJ on Monday, June 18th. A good thing. A day later and we'd have gotten a lot of instrument time. I'd been used to doing the coast-to-coast trips with a 737-800. What a difference a C-172 makes.

Still, I enjoyed watching the countryside slowly pass by and change as we progressed westward. There's plenty of time to look at the views presented, and even think about what it'd be like to live in those places. As we flew along and I saw something interesting, out would come my Leica zoom camera for a photo.

We stopped at Oklahoma City for a visit to the Ninety Nines Museum, and on Wednesday arrived at Gillespie Field. Crossing the Red River, the landscape really did change. Gone were the green fields east of the Mississippi. The rangeland of west Texas, the mountains of southeastern New Mexico, and the deserts of the Big Bend country and beyond were to dominate. We carried plenty of water. Just looking at the desert makes one thirsty.

As we neared El Paso the thermals were really building. Being a glider pilot, I let the airplane ride up in the lift, then pushed over for greater airspeed. We'd been reporting 8500' to the controllers, but when Marilyn reported 9300', the controller reminded us of the proper altitude. I told him that I was playing glider pilot. He then just told us to maintain VFR.

On Wednesday, we arrived at Gillespie Field. Already the air race welcome banners were out, and a reception committee on hand to assist with transportation, getting to the hotel, or anything we needed. The Doubletree hotel in Mission Valley was the race headquarters. A great place to stay; with lots of nearby shopping, light rail service to Old San Diego, and downtown.

Over the next few days, we were to meet the other racers as they arrived, and to get to know them at various social functions. Many hours were spent hanging out at the hospitality suite. The tall tales did get told.

After arrival, each airplane had to be inspected to make sure it was in compliance of the race rules. Marilyn and I took the time to wash the airplane, apply two cans of pledge (slicker than wet Owl s--t), and put the number 3 on the tail and under the wings. The airplane was now ready, and by Tuesday we'd be more than ready. Lunches, buffets, special dinners, and take off breakfast sure made it hard to keep the weight down. FedEx was a big help as they shipped our luggage to Batavia free of charge.

On race day, we were bussed out to Gillespie Field. Excitement ran high. We'd already had an FSS weather briefing at breakfast, so all we had to do was load, run the preflight, and get lined up in sequence. Capt. Lynn Rippelmeyer of Continental Airlines was the official starter and would drop the flag for each racer. At 0820 it was engine start time, taxi out, runup, set the GPSs and be ready.

The third call was 'Classic Three, cleared on to hold.' That we did. And at 0828, Lynn dropped the flag and waved as we roared by. Climbing past the timer, Marilyn climbed to 1000', turned right to 042 degrees and we were off in the race to Williams, AZ. Skimming the mountains and then over the Imperial Valley, we varied the altitude some to find the best winds. What scenery, what fun.

En route, we listened to the chatter of other racers as we tried to determine how they were doing. No one wanted to give away any useful information. Parker, Lake Havasu, the Burro Creek Canyon was below, and it was time to get out the flyby chart for Williams. Our fuel was good, and as we approached the airport, we saw several thunderstorms developing, so we decided to fly by to continue. The timer gave up the all clear, so a quick turn to Gallup, NM, kept us clear of the weather. Right on our course lay Mt. Humphrys at Flagstaff, AZ. We skimmed the south slopes to avoid weather on the north side. The airport was six miles to the south, so we just monitored the frequencies.

Crossing the Little Colorado River, I got out the fly by chart for Gallup. We'd be approaching at an angle at low altitude, so we both discussed the land marks, and listened for other racers. It seemed that about three of us would be arriving seconds apart. Airport in sight, we zoomed down the time line, then entered the pattern for landing.

On the ramp were five racers, so we felt good about our time for the first two legs. Lee Cox of the Gallup Ninety Nines presented us with a bag of goodies. Marilyn and I secured the airplane, got a ride to the Holiday Inn, and called it quits for the day. A good dinner, nights rest, and we were ready for day two.

We arrived at the airport by sunup. While Marilyn loaded and preflighted, I checked weather and figured strategy for the third leg, my turn to fly. Take off was opposite to the time line direction, so on climb out I maneuvered to the west, then dove back to build up speed as I flew the time line for departure - legal buzzing. A quick turn direct to Ft. Sumner and a climb to 9500' to pick up the best winds was made. We were on our way.

Passing Mt. Taylor, we contacted Albuquerque Approach to advise them that we'd soon be overhead. They told us that they had five targets within 3 miles, most at the same altitude and direction of flight. When Marilyn told them that we had most in sight, that this was a ladies air race, and that there were 31 racers, there was a very long pause by the controller who then said 'ok, you be careful.' What else could he say?

Passing over ABQ, we were transferred to center for flight following. He told us that the MOA ahead was hot and that he'd provide vectors around it to Ft. Sumner. 'No thanks,' Marilyn radioed back, 'we're going direct.' I don't think that we were the first to make that statement, because as we neared the MOA, the controller called to say that it was now cold. Soon Ft. Sumner was in view, so I lined up for the timing run. Zooming past, I took spacing on another racer turning final to land. As I did so, I started a climbing turn. Just then another racer caught sight of us, and had to descend to the right to avoid us. That was as close to another airplane that we'd be for the remainder of the race.

We taxied to the refueling line and shut down. The ramp was alive with activity; strong men to push the airplanes to the pump, reposition them, a children's day camp on hand to watch and get airplane tours, vans running back and forth to operations, and racers arriving and departing.

In an hour we were back in the air for Pratt, KS. At 7500' we had good tail winds and some thermal activity. We crossed the Red River once again. Now, the land had more vegetation, cattle feeding lots dotted the rangeland, and it was beginning to look like Boring, oops, Kansas. Our approach to Pratt was from the SW to fly down a NS runway and the land to the south.

As two of us were headed for the time line, we heard a solo student pilot call on downwind. I gave a quick call and told him that he should remain clear of the runway while we flew by for timing. He took this advice.

Four legs down and three to go, but the weather system that had plagued, AR, MS, TN, and AL was still in place. All 31 race airplanes were now at Pratt, and we'd have to stay overnight. What a place, an old WW II training base with cattle pens on two sides, a town with wide red brick streets, twin water towers that read 'Hot' & 'Cold', and a great bunch of volunteers to shuttle us to hotels, restaurants, and airport. Several of us had dinner at a Cajun restaurant run by transplants from New Orleans. The food was delicious and half the price.

The next morning, we all gathered at the FBO hanger. FSS had set up a mobile weather center and gave us a briefing on the mess affecting our route. Not good at all, so the race committee terminated the race at Pratt. The four legs flown would be counted. We were now to fly to Batavia on our own. Most of us were still in the racing mode, so off to Jefferson City, MO we went, for an impromptu lunch, then on to Batavia. Arriving at Sporty's, though a day early, we were welcomed by a team of employee who helped park, unload, and secure the airplane, then provide transportation to the Holiday Inn.

Hal Shevers, Sporty's CEO, and his employees, were great hosts. On Saturday, we toured the plant facilities, enjoyed a great hanger buffet with two live bands, and ended with a fifteen minute fireworks show. On Sunday evening the Awards Dinner was held at the hotel.

Marilyn and I placed 15th out of 31, not in the money, but pleased and full of happy memories. We were all presented with a plaque of accomplishment. Marilyn and I received two leg medals each.

On Monday at dawn we headed to Lincoln Park, NJ. Another clear day, tail winds, and time to enjoy the beauty of flight. Aileen was on hand to greet us. I couldn't help but think how lucky I was to have participated in such a fun event with skilled and accomplished lady pilots. I sure hope to do it again. Something about it gets in your blood.