Posts Tagged ‘airports’

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Adirondack Family Activities: Westport Model Plane Show

The International Miniature Aircraft Association (IMAA) and the Champlain Valley Flyers are once again hosting “Valley of the Giants” at the Westport Airfield this weekend, June 29- July 1. Event Director Clarence Owen brought the large model plane event back to Westport last year after a 10-year hiatus.

“We held the event last year and it was a great success,” says Owen. “We are now adding on an extra day. We had 45 pilots last year and are expecting about the same. There will be food and raffles in addition to all the model flight demonstrations. We are also going to be donating our part in the North Country SPCA.” » Continue Reading.


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Saturday, February 11, 2012

Lost Brook Dispatches: Ridgelines and Airplanes

It was New Year’s Eve 2010, our first visit to Lost Brook Tract, just two days after we had closed on the property. I was standing in four feet of snow, contemplating potential trouble. I had bushwhacked down from the small plateau that marks the low point of our land, trying to get a feel for the ridge upon which it lay so that I could solidify the route in my mind.

My family and I had been guided in by Vinny McClelland the first time and on the way I had a noted couple of tricky spots. I was glad for the deep snow that provided sure tracks back to camp for at that moment I stood at one of those locations that raises the pulses of off-trail adventurers.

Some of you know this circumstance: you make your way down the line of a ridge and it seems easy enough, but you fail to see that the ridge is subtly bifurcated. That the bifurcation comes together as you descend is all but unnoticeable, but when you turn around you see that there are actually two different ways up. In this case the ridge line bearing to the right felt like the more natural course; it would have been easy to mistakenly follow it into ten or fifteen miles worth of no man’s land. Now that I know the course of Lost Brook better the bushwhack is easy (in daylight, for those of you who read the first dispatch), but a year ago it was all new discovery.

My expedition down slope to get that ridge right in my head was informed by a similar predicament that my family and I found ourselves in a few years before. Relating that adventure gives me an opportunity to describe the kind of landscape Lost Brook Tract inhabits without giving its location away entirely. It has the added benefit of allowing me to tell an interesting little story many readers may not know. The handful of you who may have ever gone looking for the wreckage of a plane know the story and landscape first-hand.

Just a few weeks after Pearl Harbor, concerned about a possible attack on the East coast, the US Army constructed an air base Northeast of Syracuse. It is now the Hancock Field Air National Guard Base, but in World War Two, before there was a US Air Force, the Syracuse Army Air Base was a critical training facility for military aviators.

On September 20th, 1944 a crew of three took off on a routine night-navigation training mission in a Curtis-Wright C-46 Commando. The C-46 would be unimpressive by today’s standards, but at the time it was the largest twin engine aircraft in the world, a transport plane with a wingspan of over one hundred feet. During the mission the flight disappeared from radar and was not heard from again. To this day the cause of the crash is unknown. The Army spent over a thousand hours searching for the plane to no avail. Given the size of the craft a large debris field was to be expected; having located none, authorities assumed the plane had gone down in Lake Ontario.

Nearly a year later, in August of 1945, a civilian pilot searching for a small commuter plane which had crashed on a flight from Lake Placid to Boonville saw wreckage on the shoulder of a high mountain ridge west of Lewey Lake in the Central Adirondacks. The scope of the wreckage was too great to be the commuter plane so the pilot reported it to authorities as the possible location of the missing C-46.

A recovery mission was organized. A team of seven Forest Rangers and State Troopers, led by an airplane circling above, made their way through a forest “never before penetrated,” to quote one of the rangers. The Syracuse Post Standard described it thusly: “The dense underbrush was so thick that the progress of the ground party could not be followed from the air, and after reaching the top of the ridge, the searchers had to appeal for compass directions by radio on three occasions. Directed to build smudge fires so that their position could be located by McLane and Petty, the rangers received their directions from the plane thru Ranger John Hickey of Keene, who finally guided the party to within 300 feet of the wreckage by compass.”

What is remarkable about this story is not only that a wilderness dense enough to hide the wreckage of a C-46 could remain essentially unexplored in the most populous state in the nation well into the middle of the 20th century. What is just as remarkable is how long it took to rediscover the wreckage. Military plane crashes in World War II were routinely classified, including this one, therefore specific details of its location were not revealed. Perhaps a few locals or stray hunters came upon it over the years, but there is no record of anyone visiting the crash site again until it was found by members of the Caterpillar Club, a Syracuse pilots’ club (whose membership qualification is to have parachuted out of a stricken aircraft!). Their desire to find the plane and place a plaque memorializing the crew finally paid off on their fifth attempt, in May of 1997, fifty-three years later. [For a fuller account of the C-46 crash and rediscovery, the Caterpillar Club has a very informative website; the Almanack published A Short History of Adirondack Aircraft Crashes in 2009.]

Intrigued by the story of a lost plane wreck that sounded like it could have come out of an Indiana Jones adventure, Amy and the boys joined me in an attempt to find the crash site ourselves in 2005. To make a long story short, we failed. This part of the Central Adirondacks is not as well known or lauded as the High Peaks, but the higher parts of it are comparably dramatic, with a lot of vertical and a profusion of ridges, gullies and streams. It is also considerably more remote and less traveled than most of the High Peaks wilderness. We gave it a game try but ran out of time before we could figure it out.

Our failure was caused by just the sort of bifurcation found below Lost Brook Tract. We had successfully made our way into the general vicinity of the crash and established a base camp but the next day was mostly consumed by a mistaken ascent of the wrong ridge, divided from the right one at the critical point by a tiny stream flow too small to have cared about. By the time we corrected our mistake and worked our way high enough to be near the wreckage daylight was running out. Given that we were in a very a dense forest a good two miles from our base camp I brilliantly concluded that it was time to give up.

I had deployed Amy and our three teenagers in a grid search, each with their own whistle and distinctive signal pattern to make. The kids had been instructed to use their whistles every couple of minutes and be sure they could hear my reply in return. Sure enough the signals of two of them had faded away. I must say that at that moment the imposing feeling of utter wilderness with its attendant risks was quite powerful.

More than a little concerned, I blew the return signal hard enough to cause an aneurism. Thankfully that got everyone back and we made our way down having only the discovery of a stray piece of weathered sheet metal to show for our numerous scratches and bug bites. I came out of our adventure with a new-found respect for the difficulty of counting on any ridgeline to be obvious. But I also came out of it with an increased hunger for the feel of being in the middle of nowhere and not being quite certain where “nowhere” was. Little did I know that in a few years I would be back in related territory, this time as a land owner.

Looking up the ridge toward Lost Brook Tract, I allowed myself to imagine taking the wrong route and having to extricate myself from being completely lost. The remembrance of searching for the C-46 ridge came to me and I relived the feel of it with a sense of pleasure hard to put into words.


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Monday, January 16, 2012

Pioneers of Flight: The Flying Dryer Family

In the weeks and months following the amazing story of survival in the Adirondacks in January 1935, when the four-man crew of a downed Curtis Condor plane were rescued from the clutches of death, further details surfaced in the media. The two uninjured passengers had considered striking off to the south in search of help. Said one of their rescuers, Leonard Partello: “They would never have come out alive. They would have had to go fifteen miles through heavy snow without food. It couldn’t be done.”

The ultimate blame for the incident was placed on the company. No qualified dispatcher was on hand in Syracuse to authorize the flight in terrible weather, which was allowed after a call to the Newark office. That near-fatal decision was countered by the great flying skills of Ernest Dryer.

For years, Ernie had built a reputation in New York State and elsewhere as a superb mail pilot, that group of men who were true pioneers of flight in the early days of aviation. The same informal creed of delivery in any weather by ground carriers was pursued by air carriers as well.

By 1938, American Airlines employed 203 pilots for mail delivery, but when the service was initiated in 1927, there were only four. One of them was Ernest Dryer.

When it was announced that Dryer’s flight had been lost in blizzard conditions in the Adirondacks, Buffalo’s chief radio operator Bob Hale said, “It’s an old trick of Ernie’s to bob up smiling in some pasture, somewhere.” One reporter noted that Ernie had “figured in half a dozen sensational emergency landings.” He was that good.

It was no great coincidence that there were two Dryers on Flight 166. They were best known and admired in their hometown of Cleveland, where the exploits of the flying Dryer family had already become legendary.

Ernie Dryer ran away from home to join the army in 1917 when he was only 15 years old, and learned to fly at Kelly Field in San Antonio, Texas. During the 1920s, he bought a Jenny (a bi-wing) and barnstormed on his own before joining the Gates Flying Circus, touted as the world’s most daring fliers. He also managed Stewart Aircraft Company at the Cleveland Airport.

In 1926, with brothers Dale, Lewis, and Thomas, Ernie formed the 4D Air Service. A fifth family member, Helen, joined them as a parachute jumper. Competitions, record attempts, and stunts were common in the early days of flying, receiving heavy media attention, and the Dryers were involved in all three. There were many close calls, but the entire group was fearless.

In 1929, while stunt flying over Cleveland, they narrowly avoided crashing in the city square. A month later, Dale added to his daredevil legend. At the time, the brothers were involved in a team effort to refuel an endurance plane in the air, keeping it aloft for record time. The next day’s headline read, “Dryer brothers execute incredible airborne feat.”

That could have been an overstatement, but you be the judge. The endurance plane named Buffalo Evening News suffered weather damage to its stabilizer, almost certain to kill the record attempt. But the Dryers had a plan, insane as it seemed. Ernie piloted his craft to 10,000 feet, positioning it barely 50 feet above the larger ship. Dale lowered a rope ladder, which the men managed to grab and pull into the endurance plane. And that was the easy part.

Ernie then positioned his plane beneath the larger ship, and the 65-foot ladder was lowered to the open cockpit of Ernie’s plane. Dale grabbed the ladder, and one to two miles above the earth, he freed himself from the rear seat and began climbing. After reaching the Buffalo, Dale, an excellent mechanic as well as a pilot, repaired the plane and parachuted back to earth.

The plane-to-plane transfer was also part of the Dryer brothers’ stunt routine. Besides Dale and Helen, Lewis was also touted as an “exhibition parachute jumper.” Their aerial act was a big hit in the Midwest.

In 1929, Ernie signed on with Colonial Airways, wearing the classic goggles and leather helmet and flying mail in open-cockpit planes from Cleveland to Boston, with stops in between. On at least two occasions, he was forced to bail out by parachute.

At Dunkirk, New York in 1930, Dryer’s plane was forced down by heavy fog. He landed in a field and the plane overturned, but he jumped out just before impact, sustaining only minor bruises.

At Albany airport in 1933, as he was banking to land, a small plane flying without authorization struck Dryer’s larger craft, which had mail and five passengers aboard. He managed to maintain control and land safely. The smaller plane landed safely as well.

After surviving the Adirondack ordeal in 1935, Ernie went on to great success as a pilot. He served from 1942–1946 in the air force during World War II, flying ferry service in the Atlantic and Pacific. At the time, four Dryer brothers were toiling for the military. Dale was also flying the ferry routes; Lewis was an army test pilot; and Thomas, another American Airlines pilot, was serving with the Air Transport Command.

In 1943, Ernie was promoted to major. Six months later, his brother, Dale, perished at the controls of a plane that went down near Centerville, Tennessee, killing all ten people on board.

In 1945, Ernie set a new speed record, flying from Moscow to Washington in just over thirty-five hours while urgently ferrying military negotiators back and forth. He was also among the pilots with Harry Truman at the Potsdam Conference. Dryer was reactivated from 1950–1953 during the Korean Conflict, finally retiring from the military as a lieutenant colonel in the Air Reserve.

He continued to fly commercially. In 1959, because of bad weather, Ernie’s plane was diverted from Idlewild Airport (now JFK) in New York City. His landing at Newark marked the first time a jetliner landed there (scheduled landings didn’t begin until 1961).

Ernie continued flying as a senior jet pilot, traveling from coast to coast until he reached the mandatory retirement age of 60 in 1962. He passed away in December 1982, a Cleveland pilot who traveled the world, delivered New York’s mail, and became a permanent part of Adirondack lore.

Photos: Above, the Dryer brothers took part in this 1919 attempt on the continuous-flight record. The plane above is refueling the plane below. Middle: Headline generated when Ernest piloted a plane while his passenger, Dale, climbed a rope ladder to another plane. Below, one of several headlines generated by the daring exploits of Ernest Dryer. This particular incident took place at Dunkirk, New York.

Lawrence Gooley has authored ten books and dozens of articles on the North Country’s past. He and his partner, Jill McKee, founded Bloated Toe Enterprises in 2004. Expanding their services in 2008, they have produced 19 titles to date, and are now offering web design. For information on book publishing, visit Bloated Toe Publishing.


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Monday, January 9, 2012

A Local Search and Rescue Makes News Photo History

In modern times, photographs accompanying newspaper stories are sent around the world in digital format, utilizing the latest technology. But for half a century, from 1935 to 1989, the Wirephoto Service of the Associated Press was the industry standard. Prior to that time, the text of stories was sent by wire, but photographs for newsprint were shipped the same way mail and other urgent items were: by train or by plane.

Even by the speediest of methods, it could take more than three days for photographs to arrive. When the dramatic advancement came in 1935 to an instant process, the Adirondacks were linked forever with communications’ history.

As the Associated Press notes in its history section, “… the thought of seeing today’s picture in today’s―or even tomorrow’s newspaper―was little more than a fantasy,” even in the 1920s. But General Manager Kent Cooper believed it could be done, and he managed to overcome the technical difficulties. His vision, however, was for the same photograph to be dispersed simultaneously to multiple cities, an idea scoffed at by many in the business.

The AP forged ahead with the plan, building a network employing 10,000 miles of wire spanning the nation, linking 39 major metropolitan newspapers in 25 cities. Links were also established by telegraph with cities in Australia, Europe, and South America.

The plan was to launch the network on January 1, 1935. Coincidentally, the media from coast to coast had been following the story of a large airplane lost somewhere in the Adirondacks. For days, readers hung on every word, and the tension built when the plane was located, as search teams desperately tried to reach them before they succumbed to the weather.

The plane had crashed on the evening of Friday, December 28. In a drama that played out for three days, the men were saved. Of all the events that might have occurred, and all the illustrations that might have been used on January 1, 1935, it was a photograph of the rescue mission that introduced a revolution in communications.

In a Texas newspaper, under the heading, “First Wirephoto Ever Sent Is Herewith Reproduced in The Dallas News,” was a photograph. With spellings corrected here, the caption read: “Rescued and rescuers in airplane disaster. This photograph was taken at Morehouseville, N.Y., just after the rescue party started back to civilization from a wrecked airliner in the Adirondacks. Left to right are R. W. Hambrook, John Partello, J. H. Brown, Dale Dryer, Lester Partello, and Floyd Kreuzer. The Partellos and Kreuzer are rescuers. Ernest Dryer, the pilot of the wrecked plan, is not shown in the photograph.”

Story snippets described the historic event: “The readers of The Dallas News this morning are viewing on this page the reproduction of a scene in New York State, more than 1700 miles from Dallas, showing the rescue of four persons after an airplane crash in the Adirondacks.

“… The photograph was transmitted to The News by wire starting at 2 a.m., photographically developed, manufactured into a zinc engraving, and sent to press a little more than an hour after the time the picture first clicked itself over the wire.

“… The Dallas News was the first newspaper in Texas to subscribe to this service, marking an epoch in newspaper development in the US, and it has been the privilege of presenting to its readers the first picture which was transmitted over the Wirephoto system.

“The whole purpose of the service is to link pictures with news events—an account of a news event and a photograph of the same event will reach The News over parallel wires. … An 8 x 10 photo can be transmitted in eight minutes.”

To mark the occasion, Associated Press president Frank Noyes issued a statement: “The first day of 1935 witnesses a momentous event in American newspaper history, perhaps the most important development in journalism since the first news dispatch was sent over a telegraph wire in 1846.”

The Dryer saga provided a wonderful North Country footnote in communications lore, and is perhaps the greatest rescue story in Adirondack history. But there’s more. Knowing who the Dryer brothers were enhances an already amazing tale.

Next week: The remarkable flying Dryer family.

Photos; Above, the Associated Press archives say this is believed to be the first Wirephoto ever. It also confirms the remarkable helicopter-like landing by Ernest Dryer that left nearby trees intact; Below, photo of crash survivors and rescuers, claimed by The Dallas News on January 1, 1935 as the first Wirephoto ever.

Lawrence Gooley has authored ten books and dozens of articles on the North Country’s past. He and his partner, Jill McKee, founded Bloated Toe Enterprises in 2004. Expanding their services in 2008, they have produced 19 titles to date, and are now offering web design. For information on book publishing, visit Bloated Toe Publishing.


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Monday, January 2, 2012

A Dramatic Search and Rescue (Part Two)

Dean Smith 1928Concern mounted on Sunday among the Adirondack plane-crash victims after two nights in the wilderness. Clearing skies had brought the promise of rescue, but frustration set in as more than 20 times, planes approached the site but failed to detect the wreckage. Walking a mile or more from the crash led only to more cliffs, mountains, and deep snow. As the day wore on, darkness and cold changed their condition from miserable to dangerous. The temperature had dropped to well below zero, and the men were exhausted from struggling through the deep snow for bits of firewood.

As the situation deteriorated and death drew closer, action was needed. It was decided to drain some gasoline from a fuel tank and set a tree on fire. There seemed a good chance one of the few night fliers would see the signal. » Continue Reading.


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Monday, December 26, 2011

The Greatest Adirondack Rescue Story Ever?

This week marks the seventy-seventh anniversary of perhaps the greatest Adirondack rescue story ever. With all the inherent dangers of hiking, rock climbing, and navigating treacherous river rapids by canoe or kayak, this incredible incident ironically was unrelated to the most popular mountain pursuits. But when accidents occur while enjoying those pastimes, one factor above all can turn any outing into a life-or-death drama: weather.

In late December, 1935, a Boston-to-Cleveland flight encountered heavy fog and was grounded at Syracuse. Because of bad weather to the west, the pilot was instructed to return to Boston. He was cleared for takeoff at 7:29 p.m., despite heavy snow that had begun falling.

Improved weather was expected as the plane traveled east, but conditions instead worsened, eventually causing the radio to produce mostly static. They circled the Utica airport for about an hour, but heavy snow prevented landing.

Within blizzard-like conditions, the pilot was forced to navigate by compass. The plane veered north of Utica into the southern Adirondacks, fighting a losing battle against extreme conditions. Ice soon clogged the carburetor of the right engine, causing it to fail. The left engine began to fail as well, and they quickly lost altitude. There was no avoiding it: Flight 166 was going down.

Pilot Ernest Dryer, a skilled aviator, was widely known as a “bad-weather” pilot. His instincts took over, and as the plane brushed the treetops, Dryer killed the electricity and slowed the plane’s speed as much as possible. At the last second, he pulled up, forcing the plane to stall, and minimizing the impact of the crash.

In the dark of night, deep in the wilderness several miles south of Piseco Lake in Hamilton County, the plane belly-flopped near the top of a small mountain. In the final seconds, it dropped almost vertically, not unlike the landing of a helicopter. The wings sheared off in the trees, somewhat cushioning the impact.

Ernie, with his co-pilot and brother, Dale; pilot/passenger Jack H. Brown; and passenger Richard W. Hamgood, a federal employee, all climbed from the wreckage and kept their distance for a few minutes, waiting for any sign of fire.

When it was safe, they reentered the cabin and tried the radio, but the master switch had been damaged. Repairs would have to wait until daylight, so they began making plans to spend the night. The weather was terrible, but luckily, the temperature was hovering around the freezing mark. Had it been colder, they could have been in real trouble. Only a couple of light blankets were on board.

The big Curtiss Condor plane had made its inaugural flight just over three weeks earlier. It was a modern marvel, with a 15-passenger capacity and a wingspan of 84 feet. Now, however, that span had been drastically reduced, but the plane’s cabin remained largely intact.

Fashioning a lean-to from the separated wing sections, some saplings, and a parachute, the men built a fire in front of the shelter and settled in for a very cold, uncomfortable night. They were hungry as well, but had only two chocolate bars to sustain them.

Conditions were poor, but Brown and Hamgood were better off than the Dryer brothers, who both suffered injuries in the crash. Dale’s face was badly bruised from slamming against the control panel, and swelling suggested that he had a broken jaw. Ernest was worse, having been thrown violently forward on impact, causing internal injuries and intense hip pain.

Both Dryers were tough men and experienced fliers who had survived near-catastrophes in the past. The Adirondacks would soon provide them with the challenge of a lifetime.

In the outside world, concern already extended from Boston to Cleveland (the Dryers’ hometown). Officials were able to track the plane’s progress past Utica and to the Piseco Lake region. Since they had departed Syracuse with only enough fuel for a few hours of flying, it was widely believed the plane had crashed.

Fears mounted for the fate of the crew. An identical sister ship had crashed in the Catskills in June 1934 while battling similar conditions of dense fog. All seven aboard had been killed when the plane flew into the side of Last Chance Mountain.

On the morning of Saturday, December 29, the Dryer crew went to work on repairing the radio. At Albany airport, several planes were placed at readiness to begin searching, and radio operators worked continuously, trying to make contact with the downed Condor.

Suddenly, shortly after 9 a.m. … elation! An incoming message, repeated three times: “One sixty-six, Albany.” It was the voice of Jack Brown from the missing plane.

“All four safe. We are on a mountain somewhere between Albany and Utica. I don’t know just where, but we are north of our course. Everybody’s all right. Please tell our folks. We crashed up in a group of trees. We have built a fire so you can find us. We are at 2,200 feet altitude.” Static quickly worsened, and radio contact was intermittent throughout the day.

Search crews had already ventured out on foot in the classic “needle-in-a-haystack” scenario, hoping to stumble across the missing plane. Widespread frustration soon set in. Rescue attempts were foiled by continuing sleet in the area, grounding all aircraft. Officials soon realized that attempts to spot the wreckage from the air would be almost futile anyway, considering the amount of fresh snow and sleet that had fallen. And the site description provided by Brown fit at least thirty mountains in the area of the crash.

Ground crews mobilized, heading for the Adirondacks to prepare for a break in the weather. A headquarters of sorts was established at the settlement of Gray, one of few hamlets in the sparsely populated region.

Ham radio operators set up an impromptu communications system, while air stations in Albany, Boston, Buffalo, Montreal, and Newark were joined in a compass network, coordinating in an effort to pinpoint the plane’s location by using earlier data and occasional broadcasts from the downed Condor.

Their best guess was in the vicinity of Ox-bow Lake, just northeast of Piseco Lake, but windy, snowy conditions there prevented any searches, whether by land or air. Then came a worrisome message, the final from the stranded crew: “Our battery is about dead.”

At Poland, Wilmurt, Hoffmeister, and other locations, state police, conservation officers, and civilian volunteers prepared to move. Hoffmeister’s location had particular merit, considering that farmer Bert Kreuzer told of hearing the plane roar overhead Friday night, eventually passing again to the south, followed later by a muffled crashing sound.

Several other residents of the community reported hearing the plane at the same time: it was, after all, an unusual thing for an airplane to fly in their remote location.

There was little anyone could do until the weather cleared, and the downed flight crew was forced to spend a second night on the mountain. The good news was that the storm front was vacating the area. The bad news was that clearing weather brought plunging temperatures. Overnight, it dropped to zero degrees.

On Sunday, more than two dozen planes took to the air, many of them guided and monitored by a wireless operator at Albany Airport. Among them were some Navy planes, along with National Guard from Massachusetts, New Jersey, and New York.

Hour after hour they searched, but as darkness encroached and temperatures continued to fall, the effort came up empty. Ironically, Dryer’s amazing job setting the plane down almost vertically had left little evidence of the crash. The landing had kept them alive, but left them almost invisible from the air.

Next week, the conclusion: In a race against death, heroes emerge.

Photo Top: The Curtiss Condor lost in the Adirondacks.

Photo Middle: Dale and Ernest Dryer.

Photo Bottom: Map of the plane’s path north to Piseco Lake.

Lawrence Gooley has authored ten books and dozens of articles on the North Country’s past. He and his partner, Jill McKee, founded Bloated Toe Enterprises in 2004. Expanding their services in 2008, they have produced 19 titles to date, and are now offering web design. For information on book publishing, visit Bloated Toe Publishing.


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Saturday, January 8, 2011

APA Meets Thursday: Warrensburg, Wells, Moriah, More

The Adirondack Park Agency (APA) will hold its regularly scheduled monthly meeting on Thursday, January 13 at APA Headquarters in Ray Brook, NY. The January meeting is one day only. Topics will include a variance for a sign at a new car dealership in Warrensburg, a shoreline structure setback and cutting variances for a proposed marina in Moriah, an enforcement action against an alleged wetland subdivision and substandard-sized lot subdivision in Wells, a presentation on Keene broadband project, military airspace and military aircraft use over the Adirondack Park, and the Department of Environmental Conservation’s draft policy for issuing Temporary Revocable Permits for State Lands and Conservation Easements.

The meeting will be webcast live online (choose Webcasting from the contents list). Meeting materials are available for download from the Agency’s website. The full agenda follows:

The Full Agency will convene on Thursday morning at 9:00 for Executive Director Terry Martino’s report where she will discuss current activities.

At 9:15 a.m., the Regulatory Programs Committee will consider two variance projects; a request for a variance from the Q-3 sign standards for placement of new car dealership sign in the Town of Warrensburg, Warren County and shoreline structure setback and shoreline cutting variance variances for a proposed marina in the Town of Moriah, Essex County.

At 10:30, the Enforcement Committee will convene for an enforcement case involving alleged wetland subdivision and substandard-sized lot subdivision violations on private property in the Town of Wells, Hamilton County.

At 11:00, the Economic Affairs Committee will hear a presentation on the Town of Keene’s town-wide broadband project. Dave Mason and Jim Herman, project co-directors, will explain the project history, how it unfolded and detail project accomplishments.

At 1:00, the Park Policy and Planning Committee will be briefed on Military Airspace and Military Aircraft use over the Adirondack Park. Lt. Col. Fred Tomasselli, NY Air National Guard’s Airspace Manager at Fort Drum, will overview military airspace use. Commander Charles Dorsey, NY Air National Guard 174th Fighter Wing Vice-Commander at Fort Hancock, will detail the expected deployment of the MQ-9 Reaper aircraft for military training exercises over the Adirondack Park.

At 2:15, the State Land Committee will be updated by, Forest Preserve Management Bureau Chief Peter Frank, on the Department of Environmental Conservation’s draft policy for issuing Temporary Revocable Permits for State Lands and Conservation Easements. The draft policy proposes four types of revocable permits: Expedited, Routine, Non-Routine and Research.

At 3:00, the Park Ecology Committee will convene for a presentation from the Agency’s, Natural Resource Analysis Supervisor Daniel Spada, on his recent trip to China. The focus of the trip was the ongoing China Protected Areas Leadership Alliance Project. Mr. Spada will overview this project and describe his experiences with the various National Nature Reserve managers he visited with in Yunnan Province, China.

At 3:45, the Full Agency will convene will assemble to take action as necessary and conclude with committee reports, public and member comment.

The February Agency is scheduled for February 10-11, 2011

March Agency Meeting: March 17-18 at the Adirondack Park Agency Headquarters.


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Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Adirondack Balloon Fest: Up, Up and Away in Queensbury

Advice for anyone who attends the Adirondack Balloon Festival next year: get there early.

Early, of course, is a painful thing when balloons are involved. They take off at dawn, mostly, which means waking up at 5 a.m. if you live an hour away, as I do. It’s even more painful if you get up early and don’t get any balloons. Thanks to high winds, three launches scheduled for Saturday morning and Friday and Saturday evenings had to be canceled. » Continue Reading.


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Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Adirondack Family Activities with Diane Chase: Old Forge Model Air Show

By Diane Chase, Adirondack Family Activities Fighter planes and dogfights are just part of the program for the Mountain R/C Club’s annual air show in Old Forge this July 31st. The sky will be humming with replica WWII radio-controlled planes like the Spitfire, P51 Mustang, B25 Mitchell, F6F Hellcat as well as a few jet aircrafts and other more recent models.

Event Director Walt Throne says, “ We are looking forward to having the same format as in years past. There will be a variety of planes and helicopters on the 31st.”

According to Throne the event will consist of a morning of opening flying with about 30-40 radio-controlled aircraft available and culminate with a 1:00 p.m. air show.

“At one o’clock we take the models that are available and show all sorts of phases of flying: free flight, control line and radio control with such models as an RVC electric jet, WWII planes even a lawnmower, he laughs. “People love to watch the lawnmower.”

Free flight planes are the origin of the hobby with planes such as gliders where the modeler attempts to launch the plane by hand or rubber band. These models are much more advanced than the inexpensive toy store version.

Control line, sometimes referred to as U-Control, is when the modeler is controlling the model by means of wires or other mechanisms. The pilot holds a handle attached to the plane and turns in circles with the flight of the plane. The trick is to keep the line taunt and straight while the plane reaches maximum elevation.

The most popular means of model aviation is radio-control. These sophisticated models mimic real flight by means of a remote signal.

This year people will be coming from all over the eastern seaboard to participate. The event is free to watch and various concessions will be available for purchase.

The Mountain RC Club will once again sell raffle tickets for a radio-controlled airplane to benefit the local youth ski program. The event is held at the North Street Airfield in Old Forge from 9:00 a.m. – 4:00 p.m.

From Main Street in Old Forge head east on Route 28, turning north on North Street by the Enchanted Forest Water Safari Park. The North Street Airfield is a short distance on your left. There is plenty of parking available.

photo of lawnmower model airplane at North Street Airfield and content © Diane Chase, Adirondack Family Activities ™. Diane is the author of the Adirondack Family Activities Guidebook Series including the recent released Adirondack Family Time: Tri-Lakes and High Peaks Your Guide to Over 300 Activities for Lake Placid, Saranac Lake, Tupper Lake, Keene, Jay and Wilmington areas (with GPS coordinates) This is the first book of a four-book series of Adirondack Family Activities. The next three editions will cover Plattsburgh to Ticonderoga, Long Lake to Old Forge and Newcomb to Lake George. 


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Monday, July 12, 2010

Floyd Bennett: A Local Aviation Legend

Among the rock-star personas of the Roaring Twenties were a number of aviators who captured the public’s imagination. Some were as popular and beloved as movie stars and famous athletes, and America followed their every move. It was a time of “firsts” in the world of aviation, led by names like Lindbergh, Byrd, and Post. Among their number was an unusually humble man, Floyd Bennett. He may have been the best of the lot.

A North Country native and legendary pilot, Bennett has been claimed at times by three different villages as their own. He was born in October 1890 at the southern tip of Lake George in Caldwell (which today is Lake George village). Most of his youth was spent living on the farm of his aunt and uncle in Warrensburg. He also worked for three years in Ticonderoga, where he made many friends. Throughout his life, Floyd maintained ties to all three villages.

In the early 1900s, cars and gasoline-powered engines represented the latest technology. Floyd’s strong interest led him to automobile school, after which he toiled as a mechanic in Ticonderoga for three years. When the United States entered World War I, Bennett, 27, enlisted in the Navy.

While becoming an aviation mechanic, Floyd discovered his aptitude for the pilot’s seat. He attended flight school in Pensacola, Florida, where one of his classmates was Richard E. Byrd, future legendary explorer. For several years, Bennett refined his flying skills, and in 1925, he was selected for duty in Greenland under Lieutenant Byrd.

Fraught with danger and the unknown, the mission sought to learn more about the vast unexplored area of the Arctic Circle. Bennett’s knowledge and hard work were critical to the success of the mission, and, as Byrd would later confirm, the pair almost certainly would have died but for Bennett’s bravery in a moment of crisis.

While flying over extremely rough territory, the plane’s oil gauge suddenly climbed. Had the pressure risen unchecked, an explosion was almost certain. Byrd looked at Bennett, seeking a course of action, and both then turned their attention to the terrain below.

Within seconds, reality set in—there was no possibility of landing. With that, Bennett climbed out onto the plane’s wing in frigid conditions and loosened the oil cap, relieving the pressure. He suffered frostbite in the process, but left no doubt in Byrd’s mind that, in selecting Bennett, he had made the right choice.

The two men became fast friends, and when the intrepid Byrd planned a historic flight to the North Pole, Bennett was asked to serve as both pilot and mechanic on the Josephine Ford. (Edsel Ford provided financial backing for the effort, and the plane was named after his daughter.) In 1926, Byrd and Bennett attained legendary status by completing the mission despite bad luck and perilous conditions. The flight rocketed them to superstardom.

Lauded as national heroes, they were suddenly in great demand, beginning with a tickertape parade in New York City. Byrd enjoyed the limelight, but also heaped praise on the unassuming Bennett, assuring all that the attempt would never have been made without his trusted partner. When Bennett visited Lake George, more than two thousand supporters gathered in the tiny village to welcome him. As part of the ceremony, letters of praise from Governor Smith and President Coolidge were read to the crowd.

Both men were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, the highest award for any member of the armed services, and rarely bestowed for non-military accomplishments. They were also honored with gold medals from the National Geographic Society. Despite all the attention and lavish praise, Bennett remained unchanged, to the surprise of no one.

The next challenge for the team of Bennett and Byrd was the first transatlantic flight from New York to Paris, a trip they prepared for eagerly. But in a training crash, both men were hurt. Bennett’s injuries were serious, and before the pair could recover and continue the pursuit of their goal, Charles Lindbergh accomplished the historic feat. Once healed, the duo completed the flight to Europe six weeks later.

Seeking new horizons to conquer, aviation’s most famous team planned an expedition to the South Pole. Tremendous preparation was required, including testing of innovative equipment. On March 13, 1928, a curious crowd gathered on the shores of Lake Champlain near Ticonderoga. Airplanes were still a novelty then, and two craft were seen circling overhead. Finally, one of them put down on the slushy, ice-covered lake surface, skiing to a halt.

Out came local hero Floyd Bennett, quickly engulfed by a crowd of friends and well-wishers. While in Staten Island preparing for the South Pole flight, he needed to test new skis for landing capabilities in the snow. What better place to do it than among friends? After performing several test landings on Lake Champlain, Bennett stayed overnight in Ticonderoga. Whether at the Elks Club, a restaurant, or a local hotel, he and his companions were invariably treated like royalty. Bennett repeatedly expressed his thanks and appreciation for such a warm welcome.

A month later, while making further preparations for the next adventure, Floyd became ill with what was believed to be a cold. When word arrived that help was urgently needed on a rescue mission, the response was predictable. Ignoring his own health, Bennett immediately went to the assistance of a German and Irish team that had crossed the Atlantic but crashed their craft, the Bremen, on Greenly Island north of Newfoundland, Canada.

During the mission, Floyd developed a high fever but still tried to continue the rescue effort. His condition worsened, requiring hospitalization in Quebec City, where doctors found he was gravely ill with pneumonia. Richard Byrd and Floyd’s wife, Cora, who was also ill, flew north to be with him. Despite the best efforts of physicians, Bennett, just 38 years old, succumbed on April 25, 1928, barely a month after his uplifting visit to Ticonderoga.

Though Bennett died, the rescue mission he had begun proved successful. Across Canada, Germany, Ireland, and the United States, headlines mourned the loss of a hero who had given his life while trying to save others. Explorers, adventurers, and aviators praised Bennett as a man of grace, intelligence, bravery, and unfailing integrity.

Floyd Bennett was already considered a hero long before the rescue attempt. The selflessness he displayed further enhanced his image, and as the nation mourned, his greatness was honored with a heavily attended military funeral in Washington, followed by burial in Arlington National Cemetery. Among the pile of wreaths on his grave was one from President and Mrs. Coolidge.

After the loss of his partner and best friend, Richard Byrd’s craft for the ultimately successful flight to the South Pole was a tri-motor Ford renamed the Floyd Bennett. Both the man and the plane of the same name are an important part of American aviation history.

It was eventually calculated that the earlier flight to the North Pole may not have reached its destination, but the news did nothing to diminish Byrd and Bennett’s achievements. They received many honors for their spectacular adventures. On June 26, 1930, a dedication ceremony was held in Brooklyn for New York City’s first-ever municipal airport, Floyd Bennett Field. It was regarded at the time as America’s finest airfield.

Many historic flights originated or ended at Floyd Bennett Field, including trips by such notables as Howard Hughes, Jimmy Doolittle, Wiley Post, Douglas “Wrongway” Corrigan, and Amelia Earhart. It was also the busiest airfield in the United States during World War II, vital to the Allied victory. Floyd Bennett Field is now protected by the National Park Service as part of the Gateway National Recreation Area.

The beloved Bennett was also honored in several other venues. In the 1940s, a Navy Destroyer, the USS Bennett, was named in honor of his legacy as a flight pioneer. In the village of Warrensburg, New York, a memorial bandstand was erected in Bennett’s honor. Sixteen miles southeast of Warrensburg, and a few miles from Glens Falls, is Floyd Bennett Memorial Airport.

In a speech made after the North Pole flight, Richard Byrd said, “I would rather have had Floyd Bennett with me than any man I know of.” High praise indeed between heroes and friends. And not bad for a regular guy from Lake George, Warrensburg, and Ticonderoga.

Top Photo: The Josephine Ford.

Middle Photo: Floyd Bennett, right, receives medal from President Coolidge. Richard Byrd is to the left of Coolidge.

Bottom Photo: Floyd Bennett Field, New York City’s first municipal airport.

Lawrence Gooley has authored eight books and several articles on the North Country’s past. He and his partner, Jill McKee, founded Bloated Toe Enterprises in 2004 and have recently begun to expand their services and publishing work. For information on book publishing, visit Bloated Toe Publishing.


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