Back in the late 70s a lifelong friend got his license and to celebrate we rented a 4 seat Piper Cherokee and headed to the Grand Canyon. Oakland to Bakersfield to Boulder City to Grand Canyon, then Sedona, Kern Valley and home.
Incredible trip. My friend was in a club, and rental was $25 an hour, only when the engine was running!
Our first stop in California on our return trip was the Kern Valley Airport, 2600 ft. on the banks of Lake Isabella in the Southern Sierra Foothills. Back in the day there was only one structure at the field, a manager’s office/radio shack. (Circled, I think)
It was there that a local burst in hollering, “Who wants a Root Beer Float?” This was an Adult version (apparently there are several), Galliano, Vodka, Coke, and Milk, yeah some recipes call for ice cream and Root Beer, but hell, we were in a radio shack in the middle of nowhere . . . Well, they tasted like Root Beer and were HAMMERING!
We realized our travels were done for the day and asked if there was anywhere nearby we could camp for the night.
“Sure, taxi about halfway down the runway, you’ll see a dirt road on the other side heading towards the river, just find somewhere over there and pitch camp.” Uh, okay. That little parking area wasn’t there back then, and off we went, 3 wheeling in our little Piper.
“X” marks the spot, where we slept under the wing of the plane, waking with a little frost on our bags, and making our return trip to Oakland.
If you’d like to hear what happens when you get too close to China Lake, keep reading.
Earlier on the same trip, we ended our first leg from Oakland at the Bakersfield Municipal Airport, planning to fly on to Boulder City. My pilot buddy headed into the office to pay for refueling and file a flight plan. He gave me the number to call Edwards (they handled China Lake traffic) to get clearance through China Lake’s restricted space.
“I’m sorry sir, but we only give immediate clearance on the weekend (it was Tuesday), during the week we require 48 hour notice.”
“Wait. What???”
This was a complication, avoiding the restricted air space to the north required Crossing the Sierra just south of Mt. Whitney and climbing above 13,000 ft. (4000m) peaks, wasn’t going to happen. Going South was a fuel stretch, and would have us arriving at Grand Canyon, looking for a small, unknown airfield, that could be closed, after dark.
Looking at the air charts, we noticed a jagged, bent 8 to 5 mile wide gap in the restricted space between the two halves of China Lake (the southwestern half is now known as Naval Air Weapons Center). The gap accommodated a State Highway that predated the base.
Air Charts show highways and structures and I had experience with Marine Charts from a bit of sailing and USGS Maps from Backpacking, and I said, “Hey, I can do this, we can get through the gap!” Sure we could . . .
So, staying well North of Edwards AFB, approaching China Lake from the West, heading due east, we looked for the Highway 395 Junction at Johannesburg. Once found, we continued on for one minute, then turned left and headed due North.
Point A. Traveling at 5000ft. I looked down to my right into the NAWC, there, so low it was raising dust, was a black delta wing shape screaming across the desert. As it reached the edge of the Restricted Space it pulled straight up, having timed his climb to be off our starboard wing tip when we passed.
“Wow”, we all said.
Point B. As we crossed the Highway again we turned right to head due East. At our next landmark we turned left, heading north again.
Point C. “What is that?” “Where?” “12 O’clock!” “Wha???”
A Squadron of F-4 Phantoms approaching head on, split around our plane . . . Above, Below, Port and Starboard. We could see their eyeballs! Closing speed was probably 700mph (1126kph).
Close enough to read our 6" Fuselage ID numbers, because immediately after the radio crackled, “NC712343, this Edwards Control, WHAT ARE YOU DOING???”
Uh oh, Edwards, we’re in trouble!
The pilot shook his head and motioned for me to respond, “Edwards, NC71234 (fictitious numbers to protect the not so innocent), uh, well, uh, we were trying to fly the corridor . . .”
This didn’t happen too often because the next thing we heard from Edwards was, “I don’t believe it!” We could hear laughter behind the controller.
Then he came back with some respect for our ballsiness, “Okay, we’re gonna get you through this”, and he proceeded to give us headings every few minutes until we were well clear of their space. We were the target of the day for about 20 minutes with all means of warcraft buzzing around.
Finally, “You folks have a great trip, nice talking to you, Edwards out.”
We still had to climb to 10,000 to clear the last ridge before Death Valley, and arrived at Grand Canyon at dusk, an absolutely amazing adventure.
My pilot buddy went on to have a long international career with Delta, and I enjoyed many other local flights with him in his off time.