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Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Review: The Spirit of St. Louis

Being in St. Louis seemed like an appropriate time to start reading Charles Lindbergh's The Spirit of St. Louis. It is considered a classic, after all, and since I spent 35 out of 50 days there sitting around in a hotel room, I had some spare time. The only thing I didn't like about it was that I didn't read it sooner.




It is not a short read (the paperback version is almost 600 pages, including pictures) but it is a fast read. I thought that perhaps the only reason it won a Pulitzer Prize was because it came out during Lindberghmania, when he was an outright celebrity. But that actually couldn't have been the case, as he spent over a decade crafting this book, and it wouldn't come out until 1952. In that time, the United States had been through World War II and aviation had matured so quickly that it was no longer an incredible novelty.

This book won its Pulitzer on its own merits and beauty, not because of the name attached. His book We, on the other hand, was slapped together quickly to cash in on his overnight fame. We is not a bad book, but the rushed feeling is evident throughout. It lacks the mastery, the compelling tale of the flight itself, and the lyricism that infuse The Spirit of St. Louis.

The first section of the book goes into the story of what it took just to get the project "off the ground". But it does it in an amazingly simple way. It is not a grand "Look at me" story. Instead, he writes about it in such a simple and direct way that it's almost amazing that everyone in the country wasn't trying to do the same thing. It almost sums up to, "Hey, wouldn't it be neat if I flew across the Atlantic? What do I need to do to get that done? OK, let's do those things and call it a day."

(This spirit is also evident in the early chapters of Richard Branson's excellent book, Losing My Virginity: How I Survived, Had Fun, and Made a Fortune Doing Business My Way, which is definitely worth a read as well. The prologue's title, "Screw it, let's do it", would probably have made Lindbergh nod and smile.)

The entire beginning section is like that, and I mean it in the best possible way. To him, the idea is the simplest thing in the world. It never even occurred to him that it could possibly be hard, and so he doesn't make it hard. He doesn't try to think of 1000 ways it won't work, he doesn't draw up some complicated business proposal, and he doesn't do any of the hundred other things every MBA will tell you just has to be done.

Instead, he just goes around to everyone he knows and asks if they have some money to put toward this flight, which he believes in enough that he's willing to put in 20% of the money for it himself. It's charming in how his whole attitude in this section is so matter-of-fact, so "gee willikers" direct that it is almost childlike in its naiveté. He would get eaten alive on Shark Tank.

Yet reading about how he just did it before Nike made "Just do it" a thing is worth more than a stack any the run-of-the-mill self-help books that are so popular nowadays. YouTube is filled with thousands upon thousands of "motivation" videos, authors get rich pounding out cliched "productivity" advice, and self-help gurus live in mansions built by thousand-dollar seminars on how to live your dream. Yet Lindbergh just goes out and does it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. This section alone makes the book worth reading if you're willing to learn by example instead of paying some consultant to tell you how to Get Things Done(tm).

Eventually, he does get to the flight, though. The change from the planning to the execution section is a bit abrupt, but that's because the flight itself took place so suddenly. Before you know it, he's gone from an unknown aviator trying to find a plane to an unknown aviator taking off on a flight that would make him famous around the world. This abruptness is a result of the directness he's had throughout the book: he was at Roosevelt Field, the plane was there too, and the weather broke, so he took off. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to just hop in and do something that no one had ever done solo before.

With that, we get to the section of the book about the flight itself. He breaks it down into 34 chapters: one for each hour of the flight. I was looking forward to these chapters for the technical aspects, but as it turns out (and what was probably an excellent editorial decision for a book that was aimed at more than just a pilot audience), there is very little hard detail on what he was doing as he was doing it. Aviation is a human story, and instead he tells a human story.

The way the arc of the flight itself is written is so well crafted that the chapters themselves have their own stylistic arc to them. Not only do you get to read about the flight, you can almost feel the flight. Not in the "it's noisy and cramped" kind of feel, but the emotional kind of feel. It starts out bright and excited, as he crosses his first big stretch of water on his way to Newfoundland (being a pilot in the Midwest doesn't exactly lend itself to practicing extended overwater flights) while land and its signs of civilization are still passing below him. His eagerness and freshness are still evident, and he still gets amazed at times that he's even doing what he's doing. He is not a Sky God doing what mere mortals cannot: he is a young man seeing things he's never seen before.

After leaving Newfoundland and entering the ocean, the newness wears off and the physical realities of what he's doing set in. As his attention begins to wander, so do the stories. He begins to flash back days past: some of them flying stories, some of them childhood reminiscences, some of them explaining why the airplane is built the way it is. Some of the stories are repurposed material from We, but most of it is new material. We see what turned "Slim" into a guy alone over the endless ocean, heading somewhere he had never been.

As someone interested in aviation psychology and human factors, this book was intensely enjoyable, as Lindbergh was not afraid to admit mistakes or fess up to weaknesses. In the middle, fatigue begins to catch up with him. He hardly slept the night before leaving, as social engagements and being disturbed by visitors kept him from getting much rest. A solitary soul over a thousand-mile stretch of dreary sea, long before radios that would fit efficiently in an airplane, running on no sleep... The stories turn into mini-dreams. He was unwillingly "microsleeping" long before that was even a thing, and by the twelfth hour and continuing on for half a day more, the Spirit of St. Louis becomes a master's thesis on fatigue and all its effects.

Most of us have been up all night for one reason or another. We can relate to what it feels like to be sleepy. However, we usually get a chance to sleep eventually, and we're not flying an airplane that had no autopilot and was not very stable. (This was in large part by design, as Lindbergh thought that by being forced to keep the plane from straying, he would have to stay engaged. This is also why the seat was made of uncomfortable wicker instead of being plush and padded.) We may have had to take an exam after pulling an all-nighter, then could head to bed after class. We did not have to remain vigilant in order to keep from dying.

We all know how fatigue dulls us and makes us feel slow. While these are bad problems to have in an aircraft, possibly one of the most dangerous effects of extreme fatigue is apathy. Not only are we performing poorly, we no longer care that we're performing poorly. For the first 20 hours, Lindbergh keeps a meticulous log of the weather, his heading, the engine parameters, and so on. On the 21st hour, Lindbergh no longer has the energy to care about those things anymore. He just makes a scratch mark for whichever tank he was burning fuel from that hour and calls it enough.

He tries all sorts of things to wake himself up: putting his hand out the window to bring in the cold air, stomping his feet in the cramped confines of his streamlined cockpit, not eating in order to let hunger keep him awake, and many more. At one point he discovers that there are ammonia smelling salts in his small first aid kit. He breaks one open and although they are supposed to revive someone who has fainted, even those do nothing!

He relates how his consciousness seemed to fragment into two separate parts, later to be joined by a third. His body was something he was simply watching from afar as he flew on "manual autopilot". One part of his consciousness simply kept him from dying; the rest was dead wood. During the 22nd hour, he begins hallucinating, thinking he was hearing voices from unseen friendly beings who were riding along with him on the flight:

While I'm staring at the instruments, during an unearthly age of time, both conscious and asleep, the fuselage behind me becomes filled with ghostly presences--vaguely outlined forms, transparent, moving, riding weightless with me in the plane. I feel no surprise at their coming...

These phantoms speak with human voices--friendly, vapor-like shapes, without substance, able to vanish or appear at will, to pass in and out through the walls of the fuselage as though no walls were there...

[These were] familiar voices, conversing and advising on my flight, discussing problems of my navigation, reassuring me, giving me messages of importance unattainable in ordinary life.

As we all know, he managed to make it through these conditions despite his more-than-extreme sleep deprivation. (In fact, this book is an excellent read for psychologists who want to understand the effects of such deprivation because no research lab would be permitted to subject people to those conditions to study them.) Eventually he does reach land. The end of the ocean ordeal means the end of the flight is finally in sight, and his energy level shoots up. The voices disappear once he sights the fishing boats that are a sign that the coastline won't be far ahead.

He has reconnected with the earth as he leaves the endless sea behind. Now he can put the distance into a scale more comprehensible to him. It is just a normal shift on the airmail route now. He has good weather ahead, and finding Paris is no problem. Like the United States, there were beacon lights along important aerial routes in France at the time. He followed it, did a circle around the Eiffel Tower just to celebrate (imagine trying that nowadays!) and then headed for Le Bourget. Which, by the way, he didn't know the location of. It wasn't on the map he had, so he just flew northeast, since that was the general direction it was supposed to be in.

Nighttime made the airport very hard to locate, especially for an out-of-towner. One of the funnier things I've ever read was his worries over whether anyone would be at the airport to help him put the plane in a hangar, since it was so late at night. He honestly thought that no one would expect him there since he was so far ahead of schedule. He can't locate the airport because it's dark, but there's a dark patch among a long line of factory lights that looks like it could be an airport, and it's somewhat close to where he's expecting an airport to be, so that's close enough. He heads for it, and after flying by it a bit to get the feel of it, he lands. Every FAA inspector who just read that had their head explode, but such was life in the Roaring Twenties!

It turns out that it was the right airport, so he guessed right: "The Spirit of St. Louis swings around and stops rolling, resting on the solidness of earth, in the center of Le Bourget." He guessed wrong on the factory lights, though: those lights were actually a massive traffic jam of people trying to see him at the airport! The last line of the book proper paints the scene: "I start to taxi back toward the floodlights and hangars--But the entire field ahead is covered with running figures!"

The book ends there, but there is a 6-page afterword to close it out. He tells how he was pulled out of the plane and carried on the cheering crowd until two French pilots come to his rescue. One of them took Lindy's helmet off and put it onto a reporter that was standing nearby and called out, "There is Lindbergh!" to distract attention away from him so he could make his way out of the crowd. He gives very little space to the long line of speeches and banquets in his honor that would take place for the rest of the year; almost as soon as the flight ends, so does the book. However, We, which came out only a month after the flight while people were dying to buy a Lindbergh book, goes into excruciating detail over his reception both in Europe and the United States.

The writing style is absolutely lush and gorgeous. I had originally planned to have many examples of it throughout this post, but due to this one's already-too-long nature, I'm going to make the excerpts from it next week's post. See you next Wednesday!




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The author is an airline pilot, flight instructor, and adjunct college professor teaching aviation ground schools. He holds an ATP certificate with ERJ-145 and DHC-8 type ratings, as well as CFI, CFII, MEI, AGI, and IGI certificates, and is a Master-level participant in the FAA's WINGS program and a former FAASafety Team representative. He is on Facebook as Larry the Flying Guy, has a Larry the Flying Guy YouTube channel, and is on Twitter as @Lairspeed.

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Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Two down, who knows how many to go

I got interested in flying when I was around 8 years old because of subLOGIC's imaginatively-named Flight Simulator II for the Commodore 64. The idea that I could take this virtual contraption and go where ever I wanted was amazing, even though I couldn't understand a single concept the manual (remember those?) talked about. "Navigation? What the heck is that?"

The program that got me into flying is at the middle left. I also loved Super Huey, which is at the middle right.
Nowadays, smartphone flight simulators have better graphics than FS 2.0 did, and I've seen PowerPoint presentations with better frame rates, but the science behind flying was fascinating. Even more appealing to me was the freedom to go anywhere in an airplane. I knew I wanted to do it someday, but all I wanted to be able to do was putter around the sky going places. I didn't even care where those places were: I just wanted a pilot's license and a town with a runway.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd end up flying in states from Montana to Florida and almost all of them in between. I certainly never thought I'd fly a jet. And yet here I am, having finished up my second type rating yesterday morning. Sometimes dreams you don't have end up being better than the ones you do have.

Sometimes when I'm writing, I'll have an idea I'm extremely excited about. It's so great it almost writes itself! It will be one of the best things I've ever written! All I have to do is sit down and write and... and... it, umm, well... It's not coming out like I thought it would. I mean, it's not bad and all, but that definitely is not as good now that it's on the page as I thought it was going to be. Maybe in my mind it was so good that there was no way it was going to be as good after going through the "writing wringer".

Then there are times when I find something mildly interesting, and since the blog doesn't just write itself, I need to pound something out for the week. About 90% of the time, when I'm done, I'm surprised about how good it ended up being. (The other 10% end up being thrown out. Blogging isn't as easy as it looks, people.) I just tried writing some simple thing and it really turned out a lot better than I thought it could have been! Many of those times, what I ended up writing about was totally different from what I had started writing about.

That's how aviation has ended up being. Flying was something I found interesting and wanted to do, but that's about it. I just wanted to get my private and fly when I had time away from my real job, whatever that was. Because my real job was definitely not going to be flying. Maybe I'd get an instrument rating along the way, but that's about it.

So I got my private pilot certificate, albeit years later. Then a while after that, I got my instrument rating. The instrument ticket was something to make flying more useful to me, but mainly because learning how to fly precisely enough to do instrument flying would make me a better pilot in general.

Then the commercial certificate came. Because that's the next step up, and it would make me a better pilot. And because aviation grows on you, so I was going to grow along with it.

Then the CFI. Because by then my real job was a little too "real".

Then the ATP. Because flying now was my real job. Although I'm still waiting for it to become a job. And waiting.

Now the jet.



And then what? How long is that list going to get? I don't know, and that's what I like about it. I'll get to learn something new sometime, though. That's a guarantee.

What I do know is that once you're a part of aviation, aviation becomes a part of you. It doesn't just grow on you; you also grow with it and because of it. It must be experienced to be understood, and once understand, it changes your experience.

If you have not had that experience, I hope you do soon. Next week, I'll talk about The Spirit of St. Louis, Charles Lindbergh's book about his experience crossing the Atlantic. See you next Wednesday!


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The author is an airline pilot, flight instructor, and adjunct college professor teaching aviation ground schools. He holds an ATP certificate with ERJ-145 and DHC-8 type ratings, as well as CFI, CFII, MEI, AGI, and IGI certificates, and is a Master-level participant in the FAA's WINGS program and a former FAASafety Team representative. He is on Facebook as Larry the Flying Guy, has a Larry the Flying Guy YouTube channel, and is on Twitter as @Lairspeed.

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Wednesday, September 7, 2016

How I spent my Labor Day

By coincidence, I haven't had a Labor Day off since I started laboring here. Two years ago, I started IOE (Initial Operating Experience) on Labor Day. Last year, I was working a schedule that was every Friday-Monday so I could teach my Private Pilot ground school at LCCC on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This year, I'm in St. Louis undergoing transition training into the ERJ-145.

Since I'm busy studying for next week's checkride, this post will be just some pictures of how I spent my Labor Day weekend. Enjoy!





Here's a quick, fun video from United that shows a bit of what my life has been like this week (although I fly for United Express, not United, so I'm in St. Louis instead):




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The author is an airline pilot, flight instructor, and adjunct college professor teaching aviation ground schools. He holds an ATP certificate with a DHC-8 type rating, as well as CFI, CFII, MEI, AGI, and IGI certificates, and is a Master-level participant in the FAA's WINGS program and a former FAASafety Team representative. He is on Facebook as Larry the Flying Guy, has a Larry the Flying Guy YouTube channel, and is on Twitter as @Lairspeed.

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Wednesday, August 31, 2016

Proficiency by pieces

As I made my way through Redbird's "Winging It" series, I came across a nice description of progressive practice: "Proficiency by Pieces".

It is a short mention inside this video where Brittney Miculka simulates an in-flight problem. (I say "problem" because some of us would look at it as a full-blown emergency, whereas others call it a minor annoyance. Each pilot has their own mix of skill level, recent experience, and risk tolerance, so there is no One Right Answer.)


What I like about the phrase is that it sums up nicely what I've been discussing a lot this year: learning by little. Instead of looking at any task or skill as something to tackle all at once, break it up into smaller, more manageable tasks. Then break those small tasks into microtasks. Then start on one of them and just do it!

This approach is one also taken by an app I recently came across: Duolingo. It breaks down learning any of several languages into small chunks, then lets you work on however many or few of those you want to work on each day. This hits on two parts of effective and efficient learning: small and daily.

What my French tree looks like in Duolingo. Notice the 29-day streak!
I originally got my degree in Spanish. That, unfortunately, was almost 15 years ago, and I haven't had a chance to practice it much since then. I decided to take the pre-test to see how bad I had become. As it turns out, I wasn't as bad as I thought. I've been using it to shake the rust off, and the thing I had forgotten most about Spanish was how much I enjoyed Spanish!

Since I get flight benefits as a pilot, I'm planning on taking the wife to Paris sometime in the near future. It might help to learn French, obviously, so I've been using Duolingo to help me with that and to see how others put modern learning research into practice. I've been rather impressed on both accounts.

One of the things about becoming proficient in pieces is that even little chunks of time (I spend approximately 10 minutes a day on Duolingo) add up in the long run. According to Duolingo, I've learned over 500 words in French already! If you put a list of 500 French words in front of me and told me to learn them, I'd probably get up and walk away. However, by breaking the process into small bites and making those bites small enough that I can squeeze 29 consecutive days of them (it keeps track of that for you!) into my schedule, I've already learned 1/6th of the words that an average fluent speaker of most languages uses regularly.

It's free, so give it a try yourself. Although there isn't a "Duopilot" yet to help you learn aviation, you can do the same sort of thing yourself by doing things like studying five questions for the written exam you might be taking; opening up the FAR/AIM, the Pilot's Operating Handbook for your plane, or the Pilot's Handbook of Aeronautical Knowledge to a random page and reading it; or looking at a random approach plate and mentally flying through it for five minutes (or setting it up in a flight simulator on your computer and flying it, although that might take 10-15 minutes instead).

If it's been effective for you, leave a comment and let me know. See you next Wednesday! (If time permits, that is. I'm away in St. Louis doing the final phase of my ERJ-145 training.)


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The author is an airline pilot, flight instructor, and adjunct college professor teaching aviation ground schools. He holds an ATP certificate with a DHC-8 type rating, as well as CFI, CFII, MEI, AGI, and IGI certificates, and is a Master-level participant in the FAA's WINGS program and a former FAASafety Team representative. He is on Facebook as Larry the Flying Guy, has a Larry the Flying Guy YouTube channel, and is on Twitter as @Lairspeed.

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Wednesday, August 24, 2016

You never know who you'll meet

As a pilot, I have some amazing co-workers. One of them happens to be a former NFL player and fellow Northeast Ohio native. Here's a story about one of my fellow pilots, Flying High with Kevin Houser.

Most of us would be happy to have one of our childhood dreams come true. He made two of them happen!

One of the things that jumped out at me in the story is that when he was a kid, he actually asked pilots for autographs! The reason that is so interesting to me is that a lot of pilots—all the way from private pilots to other airline pilots—look at my job as routine. It's not routine to me, and I can't imagine it ever becoming so. Sure, there are some aspects of the job that become rote, but the job itself doesn't. To a kid, it's still an amazing job, and we have a responsibility as pilots to encourage kids to become pilots themselves. Learning to fly is a life changing experience, even if it's not a career.

There are many reasons for this, and I've covered many of them in previous posts. One of the most important ones is that when you think about it, I'm privileged to have one of the most amazing jobs in the world: I connect people safely and quickly in a modern aircraft at hundreds of miles per hour. In an average day, I can wake up in one state, have lunch in another state, dinner in yet another, and still be home the same day! Sure, that is a part of life in the 21st century, but I cover more miles in one day than 99% of humans ever covered in their lifetime just a century ago!

The High Poet of aviation, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, once said, "Transport of the mails, transport of the human voice, transport of flickering pictures -- in this century, as in others, our highest accomplishments still have the single aim of bringing men together." I still consider it an honor to be able to be part of it. It is an honor that took a lot of work to earn the right to be part of, but despite what others may say, it is an honor to do what I do for a living.

Houser himself echoes my sentiments at the end of the article:
With one dream in the rear-view mirror and the other dream afloat, Houser is loving life. “Just like other professions, flying has its ups and downs. However, everyday I fly, I get to see the world from a view that the good Lord has day in and day out. From my vantage point, I have a front row seat to watch glorious sunrises and sunsets, the beauty of active weather, and the tremendous accomplishments of society. Looking out and seeing the Statue of Liberty, the Freedom Tower, and Times Square never gets old, and the overwhelming emotion of spectating all of God's glory reinforces that this second career continues the blessings of the first.”

See you next Wednesday!


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The author is an airline pilot, flight instructor, and adjunct college professor teaching aviation ground schools. He holds an ATP certificate with a DHC-8 type rating, as well as CFI, CFII, MEI, AGI, and IGI certificates, and is a Master-level participant in the FAA's WINGS program and a former FAASafety Team representative. He is on Facebook as Larry the Flying Guy, has a Larry the Flying Guy YouTube channel, and is on Twitter as @Lairspeed.

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Wednesday, August 17, 2016

And now I'm back again, Part 2

When I posted this, the entire blog post went Poof! Gone. All that work down the drain. Since it's done in the cloud, there isn't really a backup, either, since the cloud is supposed to be the backup!

Unfortunately, I don't have time to re-create what turned out to be a pretty good post right now, as I'm heading back to St. Louis yet again, this time for the last time for a while. I'm doing two weeks of simulator sessions, the checkride, and I'll have a shiny new EMB-145 type rating on September 14th!

In the meantime, here are some pictures I had in the original post:

The unusual 30-degree bend in the Chain of Rocks Bridge over the Mississippi.
View of downtown from the bridge. The Gateway Arch is barely visible at center left, in the notch in the trees.
Southwest 737 framed in the girders.
These guys started in Montreal and were doing the ride all the way from there to California via Route 66!

I will redo the rest of this post when I get back and let you all know when it's up. Until then, blue skies!

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The author is an airline pilot, flight instructor, and adjunct college professor teaching aviation ground schools. He holds an ATP certificate with a DHC-8 type rating, as well as CFI, CFII, MEI, AGI, and IGI certificates, and is a Master-level participant in the FAA's WINGS program and a former FAASafety Team representative. He is on Facebook as Larry the Flying Guy, has a Larry the Flying Guy YouTube channel, and is on Twitter as @Lairspeed.

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Wednesday, August 10, 2016

And now I'm back again, Part 1

A couple of weeks ago, I formulated a simple plan of what to study and how much time to spend on it. Now that I'm back from St. Louis and the ground school portion of my transition to the 145 is done, how did it go?

Well, the bad news is that my final exam score only improved by 4% over how I did in ground school for the Dash.



The good news is that my Dash ground school score was 96%, which means I got 100% this time!

The even better news is that I spent much less time to accomplish that, thanks in large part to coming to battle with that plan.

I'll get more into the specifics of how I studied in next week's post. This week, I have a lot to catch up on at home, having been away for almost two straight weeks. However, I am pleased with how the plan turned out. That's because I accomplished more in less time, and time is the most precious asset any of us have.

Money is something that we can make more of. Some have a lot of it and some have little, but we can make more of it if we want and/or need to. Time, however, is given out in the same 24 hour packets to absolutely everyone. It doesn't matter if you're the richest person on the planet or you live in a van down by the river: everyone gets exactly the same amount of time. Saving it is saving life.

As I noted in my original plan, I had no intention whatsoever of studying on the weekend. That time was set aside for me to recharge and explore the city. I absolutely did that, too. In that spirit, Friday we checked out Salt & Smoke, one of the finest BBQ places in St. Louis.



I spent Saturday evening going to see where two of the most important rivers in United States history meet: the Missouri River and the Mississippi River.


Afterward, I hopped across the Mississippi to Alton, IL to check out their riverboat casino, then drove along the river for a while. I have been writing a book on the Mississippi River, so getting to spend some time checking it out was fantastic, and I even snagged a bottle full of water from it for my bookshelf.

Sunday, I headed to the Forest Park area of the city. This is where the 1904 World's Fair was held, and it is in an absolutely gorgeous part of town. I ended up walking over 7 miles all over the area, and along the way I saw the world's largest chess piece outside of the chess Hall of Fame:

It's in an area with old but well-kept houses. This one was obviously a schoolhouse over 100 years ago, but it's someone's very nice home now:


After grabbing a coffee at one of the 5 shops on the same block, I checked out the St. Louis Basilica:


A few blocks away, I came across the biggest fungus I've ever seen, and I have no idea what it is:


I spent the next three hours walking around the park, which also has the zoo in it:

There is a pretty lake in the southeast corner of Forest Park, with a tree that thinks it's the Gateway Arch:


Next week, I'll go into how I managed to get a perfect score and still have time to stop and smell the flowers. See you next Wednesday!

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The author is an airline pilot, flight instructor, and adjunct college professor teaching aviation ground schools. He holds an ATP certificate with a DHC-8 type rating, as well as CFI, CFII, MEI, AGI, and IGI certificates, and is a Master-level participant in the FAA's WINGS program and a former FAASafety Team representative. He is on Facebook as Larry the Flying Guy, has a Larry the Flying Guy YouTube channel, and is on Twitter as @Lairspeed.

It takes hours of work to bring each Keyboard & Rudder post to you. If you've found it useful, please consider making an easy one-time or recurring donation via PayPal in any amount you choose.