On the way to Cape May

*-Disclaimer: I took my camera this time. Guess what. The bloody thing is broken. Until I get a new camera and get back down to Cape May for pictures, this will have to do...

Squadron VB-86 Preparing To Depart NASW

Hangar No. 1 is a two-and-a-half story, two-bay, wood building constructed during World War II at the Naval Air Station Wildwood, New Jersey; now the Cape May County Airport and Industrial Park. Construction of Hangar No. 1 began in October 1942, as part of a project to support the initial group of 108 officers, 1,200 men and 72 airplanes. Hangar No. 1 is the only remaining intact structure from the original World War II construction campaign. Activity peaked in October of 1944, with 16,994 takeoffs and landings, at a time when the station accommodated as many as 200 airplanes. Air crews were trained in combat tactics in naval aircraft such as the "Dauntless," "Helldiver" and "Corsair." With the field lighting system at an affiliated outlying field in Delaware, dive-bomber squadrons stationed at Wildwood had the opportunity for night flying practice, particularly night field carrier landing practice which simulated their future duties in the Pacific.

Source



Sure, I should have been at work. But my entire weekend's worth of flying plans had been blown away by an ambush of 17-25kt winds across the area. I spent Saturday at the Delaware Air National Guard's open house and airshow, watching instead of flying. (Pictures and full report to come...)

Monday looked perfect on paper. Checking all of the available weather resources via AOPA, I determined it was too nice for work, and just right for flying. I made three phone calls. One to my Boss, another to my airport to schedule the Tomahawk, and one to Mr. WX Briefer.
Flight Service sent me on my way, saying "You picked a fine day to fly...."

Cape May (KWWD) had been a stop on my cross country flight while earning my PPL. It's kind of a blur now. I had already taken on fuel at Easton, my first leg, and simply made the landing, turned around and took off again, headed home. Having little to no information about the airport itself, I ran a quick Google search on "Cape May Airport", and found a link to the Naval Air Station Wildwood Museum. I had no idea there was a museum on the airport, much less one that listed an F-14 and an F-5 among it's exhibits. That was enough for me, I was going to see this for myself.

I made my initial climb to 2000 and turned SE towards KILG's Class D. It doesn't hurt to have Tower keep an eye on you while you breeze through his sometimes busy airspace made up of shiny corporate jets and National Guard C-130's. The ride across southern Jersey was smooth as silk, with much of my time spent with my hands in my lap, enjoying the view with the plane trimmed and behaving as if on autopilot. The only other aircraft I saw was a C5, way south of me and flying its big orbit of a pattern around DAFB.
With variable winds on the Cape May ATIS providing two viable runways to choose from for landing, I monitored the Unicom to see if I could pick up the active before I arrived. Having not heard a single pilot coming in or going out, I decided runway 10 was my best bet.

Cape May sits on a wide peninsula bordered by the Delaware Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. Its southern tip points down towards the Delaware beaches and Cape Henlopen, the bay separating the 2 states. Going direct to KWWD would mean about 10 minutes over the open bay, about 5 miles off the Jersey shore. Given my low altitude of 3500 agl, I opted to keep within a couple of miles of the coastline and track it as it turned south to avoid being over the water and out of reach of dry land, should I need it. I broke off from the shoreline and headed direct to the airport once safely over land, and set up for a 45 entry for the downwind. At pattern altitude I picked up quite a push in the form of a stronger than expected tail wind, that left me way too high when I turned final. Instead of dive bombing for the runway as im sure the old military fly-boys who used to train here did, I threw the power back in, and executed my go-around. 2nd time was a charm, and I made a landing that even I was impressed with, my own biggest critic when it comes to my landings.

I found a tie down among the few airplanes out on the ramp, and settled in next to a beautiful Bonanza. Before I could even get the engine stopped, I noticed a golf cart speeding across the ramp towards me, being driven by a teenager with bleach blonde hair and all of the official clothing that marks one as a local kid who grew up at the shore. He chocked the Tommy and offered me some fuel. I declined, but asked him where I could find the museum I'd heard of. He pointed to the other end of the ramp where a huge hangar stood, looking somewhat dilapidated from all the years sitting in the salty air, and obviously a remaining structure from the days when the ramp would be buzzing with young Navy pilots and SB2C's Helldiver's. I got a ride over to the hangar in the beach bum's golf cart. On the ride I asked him about the museum. He said it had some planes in it "from, like, World War II". He was no aviation historian today, but a nice guy for giving me a ride and taking care of my plane. I shook his hand and told him I'd stop by the FBO before leaving.

Entrance to the museum was $5, but no one was there to make you pay before wandering in. A clear plastic box held the $15 for the only other people in the building. I had a $20 bill and no one around to make change, so I figured I'd go on in, and pay on my way out.
The museum was even more than advertised. The collection of aircraft was completely unobstructed, allowing you to walk under, around and sometimes in the planes. Portable staircases and ladders led up to the cockpits of the planes too tall to see into, and a couple of kids were making the most of it, banging away at the controls of an old Army observation helicopter. As I made my way past the Tomcat towards an Avenger sitting with its wings folded, and oil dripping into a pan from its radial engine, I noticed an airplane sitting quietly in the corner, dwarfed by these big hulking war machines. Amongst all of these classic and historic aircraft sat a Piper Tomahawk. I had to laugh. It was the Museum's example of a "General Aviation" aircraft, and it just looked so out of place in there. None the less, I felt an odd sense of pride that it would be included amongst this fleet of legends.

I found a picture of it here, along with more good shots of the museum.

After taking in all of the airplanes, engines, ordinance and memorabilia that made up the main hanger, I sat in the "Ready Room". It wasn't clear if this had been the actual briefing room when the airport was a naval air base, but it did have those bulky 1940's high back chairs that are joined in rows that you see all the Navy flyers sitting in in the movies. I sat in the front row and watched the short introductory video to the airport and its history.
I was very impressed with the museum, and couldn't understand why I hadn't heard of it, given the fantastic collection on hand. Surely many other pilots in the area didn't know it was there either. Instead of looking for change to pay my entrance fee, I just dropped my $20 in the box. The first of what I know will be many donations to this tribute to the 41 men who died here during their training to become Navy Pilots, and a retirement home for old war birds.

Hours later after an uneventful but very pleasant flight home, I recounted my day to my Instructor, Captain Ron, and our friend Roger who was busy cleaning the wing ribs of a Piper Vagabond he is building. Neither knew there was a museum at Cape May, and these guys have been airport hopping around here for years. Ron seemed pleased that his former student pilot had executed a go around instead of trying to "make it stick". We discussed a plan for getting together to start my tail wheel rating, and finished off a perfect day with a couple of beers in an old hangar, beneath the wings of Rogers Piper Cub.
I'll get back to Cape May soon, as I know some people that will really get a kick out of the museum. I promise to have a new Camera next time. I my own picture of that Tommy sitting amongst all it's distant, well armed cousins....

Solo: 2.6

Time towards goal: 8