The Green Dot on the Horizon

The warm mid-day July sun beat down on the small wooden dock. As a gentle warm breeze caused the water to ripple, a sound slightly louder than the leaves rustling appeared in the distance. Over the next few minutes the sound increased and suddenly the source of the sound emerged — a green spec on the horizon.
​
​In the early 2000’s my grandfather, Russell “Russ” Gregg, took to the skies to fulfill a lifelong dream. While he had always enjoyed working on cars and trucks, ranging from modern to classics, one of his passions lived high above his garage in the blue skies. From an early age growing up near the Duluth International Airport, KDLH, a small airport located in Duluth, Minnesota, he had a dream of learning to fly.

Russ enlisted in the United States Air Force, completing his initial training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. He would go on to be stationed in Michigan and then finally with the Air National Guard in St. Paul, Minnesota. During his time in the Air Force, Russ learned the craft of sheet metal work while using it to assist in building aircraft. This became his first connection with aviation as an adult. However, his interest in flying aircraft was cut short as he had a family to feed.
 
After his discharge, Russ went into the heating and air conditioning industry, eventually founding Midland Heating in Burnsville, Minnesota, where he and his wife, Jane, raised four boys. While he was engaged in many passions, there was still one that continued to allude him. After being diagnosed with cancer, Russ began to put his life in order to spend more time with his family and pursue dreams he had previously been forced to put aside.
 
Russ started flight training in 2002 after flying as a passenger with his nephew who was time building towards his commercial certificate. Russ bought into a small flying club at an airport just a few miles from the cabin he and his wife owned in Siren, Wisconsin. The aircraft was a 1954 Piper PA-22 - N3725A. The wings and fuselage were covered in canvas and painted a mint green that resembled the mint ice cream from the local dairy co-op.
 
Through the club, my grandfather found a CFI who helped him start his training. As he progressed, he had a burning desired to fly solo. However, following two heart attacks, he was unable to secure a third-class medical, which ultimately prevented him from accomplishing his ultimate goal.
 
Despite the setback, he continued to fly with his instructor, including one warm July morning in 2002 when he flew over the cabin. That week my brother and I were staying with them at the cabin for a few days and my grandfather decided to demonstrate his flying abilities for us. As we sat on the small wooden dock, a gentle breeze caused the water to ripple and the leaves to rustle. Suddenly, a sound slightly more audible than the leaves and water appeared in the distance. Over the next few minutes, the sound increased and, suddenly, there it was — a green spec on the horizon.
 
The dot grew and eventually took the shape of the green PA-22. My grandfather and his instructor rocked the wings as they flew overhead. They circled once and then headed back to the airport. While the entire experience only lasted a few minutes, the moment ignited a passion for aviation in my heart. This was later cemented when my grandfather invited me to watch his private pilot ground school videos from King Schools (on VCR tape) with him.
 
Just a few months later, my grandfather’s cancer took a turn for the worse. Between his chemotherapy treatments, surgeries and recovery, he became too ill to keep flying. He eventually sold his share in the flying club and lost his battle with cancer on February 17, 2004. While my grandfather was gone, his passion for aviation had sown a seed in my heart.
 
This seed began to sprout on June 5, 2004, when I took an EAA Young Eagle’s flight in a BL-Champ out of Lake Elmo, Minnesota (21D). During this flight, I experienced the magic of general aviation that my grandfather had felt just a few years before. I climbed out of the small tailwheel aircraft with a grin on my face and proudly proclaimed that I wanted to become a pilot!
 
A few hours after that Young Eagles flight the entire Gregg family gathered at the cemetery to place the cremated remains of Russ in his ‘drawer’. During the memorial, the family released yellow and green balloons in his honor. As I watched the balloons float gently towards the heavens, the green balloons became green specs, reminding me of the Piper Tri-Pacer fly-by.
 
Over the next decade my passion for aviation laid dormant in my heart awaiting another spark which eventually fanned into flame during my first visit to EAA AirVenture in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, in 2007, that desire to become a pilot was cemented. My first official training flight was on September 17, 2012, in a Cessna 172 at Valters Aviation at 21D, the same airport where I had taken my Young Eagles flight. As I was walking back to the FBO after my flight, another aircraft on the ramp caught my eye. I asked my instructor what type of plane it was. When I learned it was a Piper Warrior, I decided to continued my training in it.
 
After many hours of grueling training (and passing a written exam), I completed my first solo in the Warrior. As I exited the airplane, I looked upwards and knew his grandfather had been with him the entire flight.
 
As training progressed, I had to switch flight schools and ended up completing my private pilot training at Fleming Field (KSGS) in South St. Paul, in a Beechcraft Skipper. On July 10, 2014, I flew from St. Paul to Osceola to meet designated pilot examiner Lynnwood ‘Woody’ Minar for my private pilot checkride, which I passed with flying colors. As I flew back to South St. Paul with my new certificate, I took a worn photo of my grandfather with the Tri-Pacer out of my flight bag and placed it on the seat next to me. Later that night I flew my first flight with a passenger, my dad and Russ’ son, Robert.
 
While I was excited about my new certificate, college prevented me from doing much flying over the next five years. However, I continued to keep track of N3725A and, in April 2019, I found the aircraft in Birchwood, Alaska. I found the current owner’s information online and called him to see if I could see the Tri-Pacer while I was visiting Alaska later that summer. The owner happily agreed. As one of my best friends (a fellow pilot) and I approached the Birchwood airport, the green Tri-Pacer appeared, once again, as a dot on the horizon. As the dot grew larger, I started grinning from ear to ear — I had finally found the plane that had started it all! A sense of calm overtook me as I gently touched the controls his grandfather had commanded the little Piper nearly two decades before. I knew instantly that I needed to get current and resume my flying.
 
The following afternoon I took off from the airport in Palmer with CFI Levi Althens in a Cessna 172 towards Birchwood. This was the first time that I had flown in nearly five years. My instructor and I performed a number of patterns at Birchwood. As we climbed out of Birchwood after the final takeoff I happened to glance over and saw the Tri-Pacer sitting on the ramp, basking in the golden light of sunset. I felt my grandfather’s presence.
 
After I returned from Alaska, I joined a flying club at the Crystal Airport (KMIC) in Crystal, Minnesota, and continued receiving dual instruction until I was signed off by one of the club’s CFIs. A few weeks later, I took a cross country flight to Siren, where my grandfather had trained. While I was there, I met Mike Whiteside, a pilot who had been in the same flying club with my grandfather. We swapped stories about flying and I learned that Mike was still flying, this time in a Cessna 152. After fueling the plane, I took off and made a left turn towards my grandparents’ cabin and flew the same path my grandfather had flown nearly two decades earlier. As the cabin came into view, so did the dock my brother and I had been standing on when our grandfather flew overhead. I smiled to myself as memories of that day flooded back. As I turned towards the course that would take me back to the Crystal Airport, I felt as though my grandfather was sitting there in the copilot’s seat saying, “Let’s go flying, Chris.”