It was inevitable, that an Radio Control airplane crashed. It was mine and I was not pleased. I could see it go down, it apparently lost the signal and spiraled into the ground. My buddy, Buddy, helped me police it up - a jillion pieces.
One tries to collect all the little pieces with the intent to rebuild the plane. This one hit nose first and the first four or so inches got compressed, distorted and smashed to bits. But I got as much of it as I could and it looks like I may have enough to rebuild it.
One can always rebuild a crash once, well almost once. I have had some pretty serious destructive ones in the past. At any rate, I have started rebuilding it. Sort of like putting a jig saw puzzle together, this little piece here and that big piece there. Lots of glue and patience. It will mostly come looking like the original but it may be a tad off here and there. It will be heavier - more new glue and stronger - better glue than the Chinese used to build it.
The airplane was originally a ARF, that means "Almost Ready to Fly." One has to glue on the tail feathers, join the wing together and install the servos, fuel tank, engine, battery and receiver. After all that one has to balance the airplane. The balance has to be over the center of the lift or the airplane will not fly right and will probably go out of control very easily. But then, I know how to do this. I have had a lot of experience doing this, maybe to much experience.
At any rate I have the fueslage back together up to where the wing mounts. The wing "saddles" on top were not damaged very much and the landing gear came out with a big chunk lower skin. That went together pretty quick. You see, I have lots of experience doing that work.
Now piecing together the nose is a different matter. I have the fire wall (with the engine mounted on it) mostly intact and one piece so it will go in pretty good. Had to do a little cosmetic repair and glue new side reinforcement rails on (thereby straightening out the slightly distorted fire wall). I have the piece of the lower nose skin, it was plywood and survived the crash intact. So it is matter of fitting it in and getting the side walls to conform. Being off a little bit is of no great consequence, as there are trim capabilities to take care of the small things. But to much and it will look cock-eyed.
I will place the fuselage flat on my construction table and slip in the lower nose skin. That will allow me to align things correctly. Great having that one piece survive so well. Any rate I hope that does the trick.
I will then reinforce the structure to make it stronger. Yes, it will be a little heavier, but the strength is a big thing. The Saito four stroke engine generates a large power stroke that is transmitted through the structure and can cause it to disintegrate with time.
I will have to investigate why the plane lost signal. I know when the signal goes away the servos tend to align in a spiral condition. So that was the clue to me. A lot of things can cause this, first and foremost is a lost of power connection. That could be a power switch. That could be a loose connection at the receiver. The plane had not been flown in a long time and the connectors can corrode oh so slightly as to cause a momentary loss of power. I try to use the best but . . .
I did check the battery with a loaded volt meter after the crash and it was well up to speed. So it was not the battery. I have had other battery problems but this is not one of those conditions. So I will pay close attention to the switch but don't think that was it either. I am really sure it is the connector at the receiver. Out range could be another but the receiver has worked well in the past.
Any way back to gluing, piecing together, aligning and so on. I do enjoy the rebuild process.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
About False River. . . .
Since I grew up on the banks of False River I never gave it a thought as to why a lake was named False River. It was there and I was there. It just seemed natural. Not until I was much older and worldly did it ever occur to me that it sounds kind of funny - false river - like a substitute for the word lake. I knew other wise, for False River was once part of the main channel of the mighty Mississippi River. It is a classic geological oxbow lake, a kind of lake found up and down the Mississippi valley, mostly in Louisiana but also other places.
The most other notable lakes in Louisiana are Lake St John and Lake Providence. It seems only in Pointe Coupee Parish do we have fondness for naming them "rivers" from which they originated. There is of course, False River but there is also Old River another similar lake in the upper part of the parish.
But False River is different, it is different because history has made it so. It is said that when Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville explored the lower Mississippi River he came upon the beginnings of False River. It s alleged that local indian guides showed him a short cut where the river was cutting through a new channel that would eventually isolate False River into an oxbow lake. Bienville was supposedly informed he could save time by using the cut off. It was not portage as well known in French Canada, there was a small channel blocked by debris. He made his passage though the channel and appropriately named the area "Pointe Coupee." The name stuck - it literally means "cut point." Bienville passed that way in 1699.
There stands out close to the Mississippi River an live oak tree called the Stonicker Oak. It is a huge thing with limbs stretched out so far as to bend down and touch the ground. The core of the tree is rotted away and has been filled with concrete and yet the tree lives on. The tree trunk must be 18 or 20 feet across. The agronomist tell us that that tree was there when Bienville went up the Mississippi - which makes the tree well over 300 hundred years old. And yet it lives on. Texans think their Charter Oak is old, they need to see the Stonicker Oak.
My father bought our house in New Roads on the banks of False River before WW-II. He worked in New Orleans for the US Army Corps of Engineers as a civil engineer. When the war broke out, both of his younger brothers ended up on active duty in the Army. One was in the Pacific Theater and one was in the European Theater for the duration of the war. One of the brothers, Walter had married and was living on the family farm, the plantation, with my elderly and sickly grandparents. With the war, Walter had to move on, his family resided in Alexandria where his wife was from originally.
So my father moved out to the plantation with his family, continued to work in New Orleans during the week and come home and run the plantation on the weekends. He kept the house that I was born. He rented the house out to A. A. Robinson - Mr. Bubba Robinson - who was the father of the Pointe Coupee Rural Etectricfication Association (the Ponte Coupee REA). Mamma and Daddy took care of us and his parents too.
After the war, Walter returned to the plantation. By then both of my grandparents had died. And my father was probably tired of holding down two jobs. So it was decided that Walter would take over the management of the family farm. We returned to the house in New Roads on the banks of False River. Walter and his family settled in at the plantation.
Our house in New Roads was a pretty old house, the center two rooms have hand hewed cypress beams and the beams are held together by wooden pegs to this day. The walls were the classic mud and moss walls. The house had been added on to, changed, remodeled etc over time. When my father died in the early 1990s we regretfully sold the place. It is still there and has yet been expanded and remodelled again. I doubt serioulsy if the present occupants have clue that it is one of the oldest houses in New Roads. No matter it is still there and perhaps I will write about it some day.
As a young boy, I often swam in False River. Every summer we trotted down to the court house to get typhoid shots from the local health unit. It meant a sore arm for awhile but it was the ticket to swimming in the lake. It was an annual rite we children all went through. No one ever caught Typhoid during my day.
Our neighbor, a couple houses over, Louis Morgan, had pier and boat house that extended into the lake. It was an attractive nuisance. I caught my first fish there, it was a whopping big catfish. Daddy skinned and we ate it! It was dinner for one of our Catholic meatless Fridays.
As I got older, I became a little more conscious to taking care of the swimming locale. For years, perhaps centuries, people had been tossing their trash into False River. I am sure the bottom is littered with all kinds of stuff. People have discovered cannon balls and other objects. So I was picking up trash and tossing it further out into the deep water. I picked up what I thought was lid from an old tin can and started to toss it out into the deep water.
I stopped, it was thicker than usual and had a bit of weight to it. So I kept it, put it aside on the walk way of the boat house. After swimming I came up hill to our house. I gave it to my mother saying it did not seem to be a normal top of a can. And I moved on.
Well my mother was curious too. She took it over to the sink and began cleaning it. I was a silver piece of eight, dated 1803. We cleaned it up and kept around for awhile. I later gave it to my cousin, George Kimball, for his coin collection. I had always admired the collection and George, a couple of years older than I, for his hobby. Not until many years later did I learn George's entire collection had been burgled and it was gone forever.
The point is that it is also alleged that pirate of fame of the Battle of New Orleans, Jean Lafitte, had buried many pieces of silver somewhere around False River. That is of course, a legend. But it may be true. I at least can attest to the fact that I found a piece of eight in the grand oxbow. And it was dated from the era of Jean Lafitte.
My wife's ancestors were stationed at Fort du Pointe Coupee. They came from France to Louisiana. The fort led to the early settlement of Pointe Coupee. It is the land of St. Francis Chapel, one of the oldest Catholic churches in the Mississippi Valley. The written records of marriages and commerce extent back to 1771 in Pointe Coupee. The community around False River rivals that of Natchotoches at Cane River. Places like Baton Rouge are relatively new compared to the age of the fledgling community of New Roads. It is true that New Roads is modern compared the early settlement of Pointe Coupee but it contains the present day history.
False River lives on. Today it is considered a resort lake, a trophy lake for fish. Many record Bass have be caught in False River. It is surrounded by "camps" of which we are part owners of one. The Forth of July not known as a major holiday in the deep south, is now a resounding holiday with a fireworks show that rivals all that I have ever seen. It is not so massive as found on the mall in Washington DC or in the harbor of New York City, but it is unique in that is all put on by the individual residents along the lake. So the show goes on for hours and stretches for miles up and down the lake. There is no Lions Club or Kiwanas - the only fees are those of the locals that buy the fire works. The show went on from dusk to the wee hours in the AM.
False River boasts of a boat parade on the Fourth of July. It is unfettered by organization, it just is. A theme is published but not everyone adheres to theme. It is fun and irreverent. There are rafts and boats decorated as the owner desires. There is a judge and prizes are given but the prizes are just as irreverent.
In the spring there is the blessing of the boats at the New Roads end of the lake. That is out in front of St. Mary's of False River, the local Catholic Church. St. Mary's is a descendant of the St Francis Chapel out on Pointe Coupee. Indeed, St Francis, still an active church, is maintained and staffed by St Mary's.
False River is host to countless fishing rodeos. In the old days fishing rodeos were a money raising event for the Knights of Columbus and Sportsman;s Leagues. Today it is professional fishing rodeos with large commercial sponsors. Big money changes hands.
False River has been a host to countless boat races. All kinds of them, all power boat races. In board and out board powered races. Today they are infrequent but False River remains one of the premier locations for such events.
So yes, False River, is just another name for a lake. But it is unique lake with a grand history. It is a resort for sportsmen. It has summer homes, bar-b-ques and fish fry's - and to me it is home.
The most other notable lakes in Louisiana are Lake St John and Lake Providence. It seems only in Pointe Coupee Parish do we have fondness for naming them "rivers" from which they originated. There is of course, False River but there is also Old River another similar lake in the upper part of the parish.
But False River is different, it is different because history has made it so. It is said that when Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville explored the lower Mississippi River he came upon the beginnings of False River. It s alleged that local indian guides showed him a short cut where the river was cutting through a new channel that would eventually isolate False River into an oxbow lake. Bienville was supposedly informed he could save time by using the cut off. It was not portage as well known in French Canada, there was a small channel blocked by debris. He made his passage though the channel and appropriately named the area "Pointe Coupee." The name stuck - it literally means "cut point." Bienville passed that way in 1699.
There stands out close to the Mississippi River an live oak tree called the Stonicker Oak. It is a huge thing with limbs stretched out so far as to bend down and touch the ground. The core of the tree is rotted away and has been filled with concrete and yet the tree lives on. The tree trunk must be 18 or 20 feet across. The agronomist tell us that that tree was there when Bienville went up the Mississippi - which makes the tree well over 300 hundred years old. And yet it lives on. Texans think their Charter Oak is old, they need to see the Stonicker Oak.
My father bought our house in New Roads on the banks of False River before WW-II. He worked in New Orleans for the US Army Corps of Engineers as a civil engineer. When the war broke out, both of his younger brothers ended up on active duty in the Army. One was in the Pacific Theater and one was in the European Theater for the duration of the war. One of the brothers, Walter had married and was living on the family farm, the plantation, with my elderly and sickly grandparents. With the war, Walter had to move on, his family resided in Alexandria where his wife was from originally.
So my father moved out to the plantation with his family, continued to work in New Orleans during the week and come home and run the plantation on the weekends. He kept the house that I was born. He rented the house out to A. A. Robinson - Mr. Bubba Robinson - who was the father of the Pointe Coupee Rural Etectricfication Association (the Ponte Coupee REA). Mamma and Daddy took care of us and his parents too.
After the war, Walter returned to the plantation. By then both of my grandparents had died. And my father was probably tired of holding down two jobs. So it was decided that Walter would take over the management of the family farm. We returned to the house in New Roads on the banks of False River. Walter and his family settled in at the plantation.
Our house in New Roads was a pretty old house, the center two rooms have hand hewed cypress beams and the beams are held together by wooden pegs to this day. The walls were the classic mud and moss walls. The house had been added on to, changed, remodeled etc over time. When my father died in the early 1990s we regretfully sold the place. It is still there and has yet been expanded and remodelled again. I doubt serioulsy if the present occupants have clue that it is one of the oldest houses in New Roads. No matter it is still there and perhaps I will write about it some day.
As a young boy, I often swam in False River. Every summer we trotted down to the court house to get typhoid shots from the local health unit. It meant a sore arm for awhile but it was the ticket to swimming in the lake. It was an annual rite we children all went through. No one ever caught Typhoid during my day.
Our neighbor, a couple houses over, Louis Morgan, had pier and boat house that extended into the lake. It was an attractive nuisance. I caught my first fish there, it was a whopping big catfish. Daddy skinned and we ate it! It was dinner for one of our Catholic meatless Fridays.
As I got older, I became a little more conscious to taking care of the swimming locale. For years, perhaps centuries, people had been tossing their trash into False River. I am sure the bottom is littered with all kinds of stuff. People have discovered cannon balls and other objects. So I was picking up trash and tossing it further out into the deep water. I picked up what I thought was lid from an old tin can and started to toss it out into the deep water.
I stopped, it was thicker than usual and had a bit of weight to it. So I kept it, put it aside on the walk way of the boat house. After swimming I came up hill to our house. I gave it to my mother saying it did not seem to be a normal top of a can. And I moved on.
Well my mother was curious too. She took it over to the sink and began cleaning it. I was a silver piece of eight, dated 1803. We cleaned it up and kept around for awhile. I later gave it to my cousin, George Kimball, for his coin collection. I had always admired the collection and George, a couple of years older than I, for his hobby. Not until many years later did I learn George's entire collection had been burgled and it was gone forever.
The point is that it is also alleged that pirate of fame of the Battle of New Orleans, Jean Lafitte, had buried many pieces of silver somewhere around False River. That is of course, a legend. But it may be true. I at least can attest to the fact that I found a piece of eight in the grand oxbow. And it was dated from the era of Jean Lafitte.
My wife's ancestors were stationed at Fort du Pointe Coupee. They came from France to Louisiana. The fort led to the early settlement of Pointe Coupee. It is the land of St. Francis Chapel, one of the oldest Catholic churches in the Mississippi Valley. The written records of marriages and commerce extent back to 1771 in Pointe Coupee. The community around False River rivals that of Natchotoches at Cane River. Places like Baton Rouge are relatively new compared to the age of the fledgling community of New Roads. It is true that New Roads is modern compared the early settlement of Pointe Coupee but it contains the present day history.
False River lives on. Today it is considered a resort lake, a trophy lake for fish. Many record Bass have be caught in False River. It is surrounded by "camps" of which we are part owners of one. The Forth of July not known as a major holiday in the deep south, is now a resounding holiday with a fireworks show that rivals all that I have ever seen. It is not so massive as found on the mall in Washington DC or in the harbor of New York City, but it is unique in that is all put on by the individual residents along the lake. So the show goes on for hours and stretches for miles up and down the lake. There is no Lions Club or Kiwanas - the only fees are those of the locals that buy the fire works. The show went on from dusk to the wee hours in the AM.
False River boasts of a boat parade on the Fourth of July. It is unfettered by organization, it just is. A theme is published but not everyone adheres to theme. It is fun and irreverent. There are rafts and boats decorated as the owner desires. There is a judge and prizes are given but the prizes are just as irreverent.
In the spring there is the blessing of the boats at the New Roads end of the lake. That is out in front of St. Mary's of False River, the local Catholic Church. St. Mary's is a descendant of the St Francis Chapel out on Pointe Coupee. Indeed, St Francis, still an active church, is maintained and staffed by St Mary's.
False River is host to countless fishing rodeos. In the old days fishing rodeos were a money raising event for the Knights of Columbus and Sportsman;s Leagues. Today it is professional fishing rodeos with large commercial sponsors. Big money changes hands.
False River has been a host to countless boat races. All kinds of them, all power boat races. In board and out board powered races. Today they are infrequent but False River remains one of the premier locations for such events.
So yes, False River, is just another name for a lake. But it is unique lake with a grand history. It is a resort for sportsmen. It has summer homes, bar-b-ques and fish fry's - and to me it is home.
Monday, July 7, 2008
The 4th of July
We journeyed over to New Roads and False River for the 4th of July weekend. There was strong motivation to go, son Jake and lovely wife Anne were coming along with Anne's parents. That was an occasion not to be missed especially since Anne is expecting their first child.
Son James and his brood left early on Thursday for New Roads. They elected to stay at the camp. We, on the other hand, had reservations at Morel's along with Tom and Hildy (Anne's parents) and Jake and Anne too. We got our reservations early to ensure we had a place to stay. We drove out on the 4th itself.
Even Katie came with her boyfriend, Billy, came. He had a four year old boy with him - Mathew.
We had already known we were going to come over for the holiday so had invested with Paul as our advisor in fire works for the night of the 4th. Paul did us well with his purchases of fire works. All of False Rive was awash in fire works. Since some of the kids had gone to Baton Rouge to see the fire works on the Mississippi River, we saved our fire works for when they got back. We sat on the pier and watched and the show, a show that stretched from New Roads on the North end of the lake to around the bend and on to the south end of the lake. It was quite a show. It may not have been professional as the show in Baton Rouge, but it was just as spectacular and much more far ranging. The shots were random and it stretched out for miles along both the north and south sides of the huge oxbow lake.
We only began shooting the fire works at 10 PM and our little extravaganza lasted until midnight. We had shells and sprays, and yes, debris raining down on us. And true to form, a few folks on the other side of the lake responded. So the show continued until early hours of the 5th of July.
Saturday, we gather again at the camp along with Joan Tregre and her family (Dale - Ian - Catherine - Jonathan). They had stopped off at Dale's father's place in Destraham, LA. And they along with Dale's dad had gone crabbing. So we feasted on dozens of fresh boiled to perfection crabs.
As the day progressed along came Jeramie Major along with his boy, Jeramie and his wife Anna. Jeramie is the son of Janice who died many years ago. She was the older sister of Mark, Joan, Karen and Paul Gremillion. The two boys, Josuha and Jeramie Major seemed all but lost to the family, but the connection is now reestablished. It was not so much a grand reunion as it was a reunion, a welcoming of sorts. Mark and young Jeramie played a great deal. Joan did the same, giveing a lot of attention to young Jeramie. One could tell they, Mark and Joan, were exceedingly pleased to see that young family at the camp.
We had all tell 25 folks at the camp. Cousins, and kin of all kinds. The show on the lake was unbelievable. The gathering of the family has not to be matched before. Elsie and Bill Gremillion looked down on their heritage and smiled.
Sunday, we gathered once more to collect our stuff and say sad good byes - until next year. Jake and Anne off to Manhattan, NY, Tom and Hildy off to Madison, WI and Chip and Judie back to Texas. James and family to follow the next day to Flower-Mound, Texas. Joan and Dale with family back to Pearland, Texas. This will leave Mark and Paul to clean up after us all.
What a grand weekend!
Son James and his brood left early on Thursday for New Roads. They elected to stay at the camp. We, on the other hand, had reservations at Morel's along with Tom and Hildy (Anne's parents) and Jake and Anne too. We got our reservations early to ensure we had a place to stay. We drove out on the 4th itself.
Even Katie came with her boyfriend, Billy, came. He had a four year old boy with him - Mathew.
We had already known we were going to come over for the holiday so had invested with Paul as our advisor in fire works for the night of the 4th. Paul did us well with his purchases of fire works. All of False Rive was awash in fire works. Since some of the kids had gone to Baton Rouge to see the fire works on the Mississippi River, we saved our fire works for when they got back. We sat on the pier and watched and the show, a show that stretched from New Roads on the North end of the lake to around the bend and on to the south end of the lake. It was quite a show. It may not have been professional as the show in Baton Rouge, but it was just as spectacular and much more far ranging. The shots were random and it stretched out for miles along both the north and south sides of the huge oxbow lake.
We only began shooting the fire works at 10 PM and our little extravaganza lasted until midnight. We had shells and sprays, and yes, debris raining down on us. And true to form, a few folks on the other side of the lake responded. So the show continued until early hours of the 5th of July.
Saturday, we gather again at the camp along with Joan Tregre and her family (Dale - Ian - Catherine - Jonathan). They had stopped off at Dale's father's place in Destraham, LA. And they along with Dale's dad had gone crabbing. So we feasted on dozens of fresh boiled to perfection crabs.
As the day progressed along came Jeramie Major along with his boy, Jeramie and his wife Anna. Jeramie is the son of Janice who died many years ago. She was the older sister of Mark, Joan, Karen and Paul Gremillion. The two boys, Josuha and Jeramie Major seemed all but lost to the family, but the connection is now reestablished. It was not so much a grand reunion as it was a reunion, a welcoming of sorts. Mark and young Jeramie played a great deal. Joan did the same, giveing a lot of attention to young Jeramie. One could tell they, Mark and Joan, were exceedingly pleased to see that young family at the camp.
We had all tell 25 folks at the camp. Cousins, and kin of all kinds. The show on the lake was unbelievable. The gathering of the family has not to be matched before. Elsie and Bill Gremillion looked down on their heritage and smiled.
Sunday, we gathered once more to collect our stuff and say sad good byes - until next year. Jake and Anne off to Manhattan, NY, Tom and Hildy off to Madison, WI and Chip and Judie back to Texas. James and family to follow the next day to Flower-Mound, Texas. Joan and Dale with family back to Pearland, Texas. This will leave Mark and Paul to clean up after us all.
What a grand weekend!
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