701 to Copperstate #1

. . had been lying awake for some time, filled with anticipation of the long cross-country flight that would begin at daybreak. I would be flying to Casa Grande, Arizona home of the EAA’s annual Copperstate Fly-in. As I waited for the alarm to signal five a.m., my mind was going through the details of last-minute preparations. To avoid forgetting, I had taped the keys belonging to my experimental airplane, a Zenith STOL CH-701, to the I-com portable so that I wouldn’t take off with my back-up radio still sitting in the charger at the rear of my workbench. After going through the list of things not to forget several more times, my mind switched to the VFR routing that I had worked out the night before. I would be stopping only twice. The trip would be divided into three, three-hour legs. Beyond the first fuel stop there would be the mountains. My mind switched again. The last weather check before I went to bed included an AIRMET for moderate turbulence over high terrain. I would be traversing lots of high terrain.

I rolled out of bed 10 minutes before the alarm went off. Forget the shower, I thought, too much to do and anyway, I’d be flying alone. First, I checked the updated forecast. No change. No big deal except for the turbulence. A piece of cornbread for breakfast. Then, in the chill of the pre-dawn air, a short walk from the house out to the barn where my plane was waiting. My house, with its five-hundred foot grass airstrip is located fifty miles north of San Francisco, and about 750 miles northwest of Casa Grande.

As I began to tug against the prop hub, the 701 resisted, pulling back as if to say that it was way too early. In reality, it was the 26-inch tundra tires with only 5 pounds of pressure that were resisting. Overnight, they had settled a bit deeper into their flat-bottomed shape. If I expected to be followed out of the barn, I would have to pull harder and really lean into it. The short path leading from the barn to the runway is slightly down hill, so once outside, the plane would roll willingly.

Out on the runway, I used a flashlight to complete my walk-around as the eastern horizon was just beginning to turn early morning shades of pink and yellow. The 701, a high wing, tri-gear, all metal airplane, easily meets the FAA definition for Light Sport Aircraft. Its max cruise is well under 120 knots, has only two seats, and its gross weight is 200 pounds less than the maximum. Moreover, it has a stall speed that would make most pelicans envious. The Zenith 701 was designed twenty years ago by the internationally renowned aeronautical engineer, Chris Heintz. He created a very capable, rugged, back-country bush plane that is more at home on a gravel bar than on tarmac. Equally comfortable on skis, floats or tundra tires, the 701’s maneuverability, forgiving flight characteristics, and STOL performance are unsurpassed.

There is always something special about that moment, in the almost darkness, when the barn doors roll back and the silhouette of my little bush plane appears, barely visible, as it slumbers amidst the scent of leather saddles, horses and hay. I always pause there for a moment appreciating how fortunate I am to finally be living my dream; a dream that I had worked toward for so many years.

Christopher Desmond is the proud owner of a Zenith STOL CH-701. His "Centennial" kitplane was built in northern California by Robert Kube, a retired machinist. This beautifully finished Zenith kit won "Best of Show" at the Watsonville (CA) Fly-in in 2005. Christopher prefers to land and take off from gravel bars, meadows, and mountain-top ridges; He has flown over 300 hours in his big-footed, reptilian bush-plane over the past year and a half. Christopher is presently building a Zenith
STOL CH 801, which he hopes to have flying by spring 2007.