Flying with Faber

By Stuart J. Faber

Just this past month, the newly constructed 168,000-ton Norwegian Bliss became the largest vessel ever to pass through the recently expanded Panama Canal. It launched from the German shipyards where it was constructed, and set sail for Seattle. En route, the captain decided to pull into San Pedro, California to pick me up along with 2,000 of my intimate friends for its inaugural passenger voyage. For a few days, we cruised along the California-Mexican coast. So let’s call this article “Cruising with Faber.” 

Photo by Andrea SugranesThis magnificent vessel is a monster of a ship. It’s 994 feet long – I’ve landed my airplane on runways this size. Across the 126-foot wide superstructure, 20 decks are stacked with 2,000 staterooms and just about everything else you could imagine at a mega-resort. The staff of 1,700 computes to almost one staff person for every two of the 4,000 guests this ship can accommodate. 

Whatever your cruise plans are for the western hemisphere, the Bliss should be your choice. There are seven-day trips to Alaska from Seattle, seven-day Eastern Caribbean trips from Miami, seven-day trips from Los Angeles to the Mexican Rivera, five-day trips to Vancouver, plus trips from the Panama Canal, Los Angeles or Miami and seven-day Bahamas and Florida trips from New York. 

By Stuart J. Faber

Now that the holidays have passed, it’s time to activate those New Year’s resolutions.  It’s safe to say that most of us have resolved to shed the extra pounds we put on over the holidays.  Not only are weight losses generally considered a contribution to better health and a longer life, the less you weigh, the more stuff you can pack into your airplane without being over-grossed.

Most physicians and dietitians agree that eating fish can extend your life. I make frequent trips to the supermarket in search of fresh fish. I’m often disappointed. Much of the product carries a label, “previously frozen.”  Fresh or frozen, the prices are usually high. I prefer to catch my own. That way, I’m sure of what I’m getting. Plus, I can think of fewer pastimes more fun than fishing.

By Stuart J. Faber

Sunset on the desert. (Stuart J. Faber)I grew up in the midst of rolling prairies, thick forests, and cool, deep blue lakes. Of course, I feel most comfortable and at home in these environments. That being said, many of my desert excursions have been memorable. For example, the Atacama Desert in Chile is a magical place. The solitude and lunar-like terrain lends a feeling of being in space. In contrast, the dramatic hues of the red-rock desert in Sedona, Arizona are electrifying. No artist could duplicate the colors of these rocks. The desert surrounding Dubai, UAE, with its waves of sand, reminds me of the Arabian knights movies of my childhood. We spent a thrill-packed afternoon surfing up and down the sand dunes in all-wheel drive vehicles – as the SUVs banked almost 90 degrees, we were terrified that we would flip upside-down.

The high terrain surrounding Flagstaff, Arizona has become one of my favorite desert destinations. At 7,000 feet above sea level, millions of ponderosa pine forests spring from the desert floor. Conifers are not the region’s only anomaly. For example, the desert around Flagstaff receives approximately 100 feet of snowfall annually. Additionally, the terrain is composed primarily of volcanic soil – not a sand dune in sight. Summer temperatures rarely rise above 80 degrees F. Winter temperatures can plummet below zero. Within an hour from Flagstaff is the Grand Canyon. This real estate resembles no desert I’ve ever seen.

By Stuart J. Faber

It was called the Chicago North Shore & Milwaukee Railroad. The short name was the North Shore Line. Every few hours, a train departed from Milwaukee to Chicago. It clickity-clacked south from Milwaukee toward Racine and Kenosha, then through Zion Illinois, Waukegan Great Lakes Naval Station, Highland Park, Evanston, Lake Bluff, North Chicago and into the city. On arrival, the train twisted its way through the Loop (Chicago’s downtown), along the elevated tracks (called The L). There were other stops, the names of which I can’t recall. But I can still hear the conductor announcing each stop with a raucous, song like cry, such as, “WAAL-KEY-GUN, SKOOO-KEY, KEE-NOSH-A, RAAAAY-CINE!

A North Shore Railroad Car. This inter-urban line hummed along from 1916 until the early 1960s when oil executives decided that the U.S. rail system was cannibalizing the gasoline industry. However, the Chicago L continues to operate over 100 miles of tracks from the Loop to points north and south.

From the late 1930s through the mid-1950s, our family took countless trips from Racine, Wisconsin to Chicago. The train was not our only means of transportation. We used airplanes, automobiles, and one time, friends and I skippered a sailboat along Lake Michigan’s waterfront.

Before the advent of the Interstate system, the driving routes were 2-lane highways dotted with numerous villages. We would depart Racine along Highway 32, head south past Kenosha after which we would cross the state line where roadstands popped up selling margarine-a product embargoed in Wisconsin, America’s Dairyland.

After about an hour along Sheridan Road, the highway widened, the traffic increased and the buildings grew taller. Sheridan Road merged into Lake Shore Drive-an expansive boulevard with Lake Michigan to the east and majestic, mid-century buildings to the west. Within moments, a huge, bright red neon sign appeared: DRAKE HOTEL.

The Electroliner, a later version.To this day, that iconic sign is the town crier to travelers: “You are approaching the Magnificent Mile!” The “Mag” Mile is a strip of Michigan Avenue that originates near the Drake Hotel and runs south to the Chicago River. Along its route are the Wrigley Building, The Water Tower, Tribune Tower, the Ritz-Carlton, the Four Seasons and the 100-story John Hancock Center.

Throughout the day and night, the neighborhood bustles with locals and tourists.

To me, The Drake was, and still is, the gateway to the Magnificent Mile. This street, about one mile long, holds bundles of memories for our family. Before WWII, as little kids, my sister and I would accompany our parents on sojourns to Chicago. Often we would stay at the Drake, dine at the Cape Cod Room (it’s still there), or thePump Room in the Ambassador East Hotel.

These places were too fancy for me. I always begged to go to the Ontra Cafeteria, a 1200-seat restaurant built in 1919. Right after the war, as a teenager, my buddies and I would gather the 60-cent fare and mount the North Shore Line for a day in Chicago.

By Stuart J. Faber

Lake Tahoe Winter (Courtesy Ritz-Carlton Tahoe)Every time I take off from Lake Tahoe Airport (KTVL), I do so with some apprehension. Have I accurately calculated my weight and balance? What is the density altitude today? In the past few decades, several pilots, more experienced than I, apparently did not take these precautions. Tahoe Airport is a beautiful field. On final approach over the clear blue lake, gorgeous vistas pass by. Taking off, you will generally face rapidly rising terrain and an unforgiving stand of mountains. At an elevation of 6,262 feet above sea level, Runway 18/38 is 5,541 feet long. GPS and LDA-DME approaches are recommended only during the day. The FBO is Mountain West Aviation, 530/542-2110.

I heartily recommend a trip to the Ritz-Carlton Lake Tahoe. You’ll be closer to the resort if you land your plane at Truckee-Tahoe Airport (KTRK). Some years back, the name “Tahoe” was added, perhaps to let you know that they are only a 15-minute drive to the Ritz-Carlton. The airport is 5,901 feet above sea level. Runway 11/29 is 7,000 feet long and Runway 2/20 is 4,650 long. GPS approaches are available. The Truckee-Tahoe Airport, 530/587-4119, can give you flight planning information. Sierra Aero is a full service FBO located at the Truckee Tahoe Airport and provides aircraft maintenance, inspections, flight training and aircraft rentals. Visit online at http://www.flytruckee.com or call (530) 359-8751. Enterprise, (530) 550-1550, and Hertz, (530) 550-9191, rental car facilities are located on the field.

If you are contemplating a commercial flight, Reno-Tahoe Airport (KRNO) is about a 45-minute drive from the resort.

A Resort of Unparalleled Splendor

The Ritz-Carlton Tahoe (Courtesy Ritz-Carlton Tahoe)The Ritz-Carlton, Lake Tahoe, situated mid-mountain in the Northstar California Ski Resort Area, features ski-in, ski-out access, ski valet services and an inter-mountain gondola connecting guests between the nearby Village at Northstar and the slope-side hotel. Within a 15-minute drive of Lake Tahoe and the historic town of Truckee or a 45-minute drive from the Reno/Tahoe International Airport, this year-round destination resort includes 170 stunning guest rooms and suites, 23 private Ritz-Carlton Residences and 11 Ritz-Carlton Club fractional ownership units.

By Stuart J. Faber

Hyatt Regency Maui Resort & Spa (Courtesy Hyatt Regency)After Maui emerged from the sea, it took more than two million years before Mr. Hemmeter came along with the vision to develop the Hyatt Regency on Maui. Two million years prior to his arrival, a volcano rose from the depths of the ocean and spread its lava above the level of the waves. For centuries, the surface of the new island was perhaps too hot, for it wasn’t until about 450 AD when the first Polynesian explorers from the Marquesas Islands walked across Hawaiian soil. Colonists from Tahiti followed. A secession of Maui kings ruled during the 14th and 15th centuries–none of whom came up with the idea of a mega-resort. In the late 18th century, Captain James Cook of England cruised around the Hawaiian Islands but never ventured onto Maui. A few years later, Captain Jean-Francois de Galaup, Compte de La Perouse is said to be the first European to step ashore on Maui. His name would have been too lengthy to sign in on a hotel register–or obtain financing for a resort.

Down the road to the south is Wailea Beach. In ancient times, Hawaiians lived on the slopes, fished, and grew sweet potatoes. During WWII, the shores served as a training area for the Marines.

In 1959, Hawaii became the 50th state. In the early 1970s, the visionary developer, Christopher Hemmeter, took a look at Kaanapali and decided that resorts could generate more revenue than sweet potatoes. He developed a number of hotels, including the venerable Hyatt Regency Resort and Spa.

By Stuart J. Faber

It’s almost Thanksgiving again? Seems as if it was only a few months ago that we celebrated my favorite holiday. I love to prepare for and cook a Thanksgiving dinner. Not only is it festive, fun, and colorful, guests scream with delight as they circle our huge dining room table, which we convert into a buffet.  

Notwithstanding my age, I regard myself as a person who keeps pace with the changing world. I love computer technology. I marvel at the developments in avionics. Driverless automobiles–I’m ready for them. I do, however, harbor some apprehension over the concept of pilotless passenger aircraft.

That being said, when it comes to Thanksgiving, I’m a traditionalist. Turkey with goat cheese or pesto sauce? No thanks. I love the fragrance and taste of an old-fashion turkey roasting in the oven. I make my own cornbread and form it into a traditional stuffing with that familiar smell of sage.

I love everything about this holiday–journeys to the market, selecting just the right turkey, planning the menu, proofing and kneading the dough for homemade rolls, baking the pies from scratch, and making certain that each component of the buffet comes to life at the same time and is presented in an inviting and festive array.

Cooking with Faber – Don’t Be Afraid of Lamb

By Stuart J. Faber

Pilots hear it all the time – folks who tell them that they are afraid of little airplanes – “I won’t go up in one of those Piper Cubs.”

Isn’t it strange that many folks unfamiliar with general aviation seem to stereotype and group together all small aircraft from J-3 Cubs to TBMs as Piper Cubs? I don’t take it as an insult. I performed a substantial amount of my primary flight training in a Piper Cub. Six decades later, I still have a love affair with that airplane.

In most areas of life, I have an aversion to stereotyping. Not only does the practice affect the stereotyped entity, it often prevents the “stereotyper” from broadening his or her horizons. Imagine how much fun, excitement, and exhilaration a person could have as a first-time passenger in a Piper Cub-with the window open, flying at a speed of 50 mph over peaceful farmland, hedgehopping over stands of trees or circling over a clear blue lake.

Another group of stereotypers are folks who hate lamb. “It’s too gamey,” they moan. I’ve lost count of the number of people who have expressed their disdain for lamb. However, I can assert without exception, that the folks I’ve invited over and implored to give the lamb a try have been turned into ardent converts by the time dessert is served.

Much of the lamb we consume comes from Australia or New Zealand. American lamb is primarily raised in Colorado. Domestic lamb is more expensive and admittedly tastier. Costco sells Australian racks of lamb, which are half the price of American racks. They are chock full of tender meat. I use them all of the time.

Here are a few examples of lamb dishes from my upcoming cookbook, which are not only easy to make, they will wow your family and friends.

By Stuart J. Faber

A portion of Willow Run plant today. (Stuart J. Faber)Our minds often work in mysterious ways. It’s hard to explain. I often can’t recall the name of a person I met yesterday, yet frequently the visions and memories of certain folks I met during my childhood tiptoe into my thoughts with uncanny clarity.

It’s been over 75 years since Jack Jerstad drove up to our Racine, Wisconsin house. Donning a bright Hawaiian shirt, he emerged from his 1930s Ford Woody Station Wagon, greeted us gleeful, screaming kids and whisked  us off to day camp where he taught us about nature’s magic-water creatures, weather, identification of species of trees and birds.  He honed our swimming, boating and hiking skills.  I only knew Jack for a few weeks during that summer of 1940, yet, he has had a profound impact on my life. It was Jack’s enthusiasm and dedication to the kids which sparked my passion for nature’s earth and its innumerable gifts.

By Stuart J. Faber

I wish I had met William Campbell and Charlie Miller. Not exactly household names, but if I tell you that they were pals of Buffalo Bill, hopefully, that might perk your interest.

William Campbell, born in 1841, was among the first riders when the Pony Express, a predecessor of FedEx started up in 1860. At age 16, he was slightly older than some of his colleagues. Later, Campbell became a Nebraska state senator. Later, he moved to Stockton, Calif. where he died in 1934, a year after I was born. Although he is often reputed to have been the last surviving rider, I’ve read about others, including Charlie Miller, born Julius Mortimer in 1850. Charlie was a mere 11 years old when he first mounted a Pony Express horse. He made an unsuccessful attempt to join the army at age 92 and died at the age of 105 in 1955. Buffalo Bill, by the way, the most famous (and older) Pony Express rider, (he joined at age 15), died in 1917.

Pony Express Station at Gothenburg, NE. (Stuart J. Faber)The Pony Express route extended from St. Joseph, Mo. to Sacramento, Calif., a distance of approximately 1,900 miles. Were I to fly that route, and all of my electronic equipment went on strike (my GPS, VORs, even my ADF, which for years, has been on life support), what would I do? It’s been more than 65 years since I flew my first cross-country. I cruised at low altitudes from one city to another with the assistance of Wisconsin roads, towns, lakes, and rivers. I was never very good at it. Today, should I be called upon to fly the Pony Express route by the seat-of-the-pants, I would follow I-70 and I-80 across the Great Plains, then over the Rockies, the Great Basin, and finally over the Sierra Nevada Range. If these Interstates were obliterated, I’d be in huge trouble.

By Stuart J. Faber

Mustangs (Courtesy Irving Convention & Visitor’s Bureau)I travel to Dallas about once a year. I look forward to meandering around Turtle Creek, downtown Dallas, and Ft. Worth. I visit with some of my favorite chefs, hunker down with a Texas-size Porterhouse steak, work it off at the hotel fitness center, and then take in some shopping.

On some trips, I might settle in downtown Dallas. On other trips, I’ll stay in Ft. Worth.  However, Las Colinas-Irving is the region that seems to offer the best of all Dallas-Metropolis worlds.

Several factors attract me to Las Colinas-Irving. To begin with, virtually everything is new and manicured – but not to the level of austerity. I generally prefer traditional and rustic. But I also love the openness and vitality of this exciting new neighborhood. Second, Las Colinas-Irving is centrally located and virtually equidistant from Ft. Worth and Central Dallas. Third, this neck of the woods has some of the best hotels and restaurants in this part of Texas. And for those with an urge to shop, every appetite from haute couture to Bass Pro Shops can be satiated within 20 minutes of your hotel.

By Stuart J. Faber

The Dining Room at Farallon, San Francisco. (Courtesy Farallon)In the course of each year, my job takes me to the four corners of the planet. One week, I may be in Shanghai. A week later, I am on the other end of the globe – perhaps London. In between, I might visit places that some folks might regard is less glamorous.

That’s okay with me – I’m not always looking for glamour. You know, at times you might love to dine on gourmet cuisine (I’ve never quite understood what the term means), on a table adorned with white linen and bone China plates. Other times, it’s just as exciting, or even more so, to saunter into a dive in a small, obscure town and have a down-home sizzling steak or burger dinner. (For the latter, I’ve often written about, and rhapsodized over, one of my favorite joints in America – Jocko’s steak house in Nipomo, Calif. I can’t count the times we’ve flown or driven from Los Angeles just to devour one of their steaks).

The point is that I often can derive just as much pleasure and exhilaration, or more, from a trip to some off-the-beaten-path village as I can from strolling down the Champs Elysees. But when asked about my favorite places in the world, San Francisco is always near the top of the list.

One reason is that the environs of this city are so magnificent and unique that, as is true with all genuine beauty, the pulchritude increases with each observation. Another is that San Francisco was my boyhood home for two years during WWII. Some force draws me back each year.

The Airport

By Stuart J. Faber

During my freshman year at the University of Wisconsin, I met a student from Orlando, Fla. Her name was Nina.  My attention was drawn to her because I had never met anyone named Nina.  Wisconsin, a melting pot for immigrants from Scandinavia and Germany was populated with girls named Mary, Nancy, Susan, or Joyce.  I do recall one girl named Nora but not a single Nina.

Nina hailed from a town with which neither my fellow students nor I were familiar.  Actually, none of us in the early 1950s had ever heard of Orlando, Fla. Nina soon became a target of warm and friendly teasing-“Nina from Orlando.”  

Once populated by Creek and other Native American tribes, this city of modest origin is now one of the largest growing metrotrapolitan areas in America. It boasts more than 62 million visitors each year – the country’s record. The two million square foot convention center is the country’s second largest – exceeded only by Chicago. Disney World, of course, is a world-renowned destination. Orlando International Airport, once a grass strip, then an Army Air Force base, now receives daily flights from as far away as Dubai.

By Stuart J. Faber

The more I travel, the more travel I crave. The more I fly, the more flying I crave. If this is an addiction, I plead guilty. Rehab is not an option. I recall a trip from the East Coast back to my home base in Burbank, California. I flew my Centurion from Greensboro, North Carolina against some persistent headwinds and touched down at home about a half day after I started. In retrospect, I could have exercised better judgment. Exhausted, I stepped out of my airplane and headed for the couch in the FBOs office. I thought I’d take a nap before driving home. I should have tied down way back at Tucumcari, New Mexico. As I headed toward the office, a friend approached me with his recently acquired Stearman.

“Want to go for a ride,” he asked? A few feet from the FBO, I executed a 180 and climbed into his plane. Only another pilot would understand my decision.

Today, many years later, still an inveterate traveler, I exercise better judgment and hopefully, possess greater wisdom. I won’t get into my airplane unless I’m fully rested and free of recent consumption of geezer-like aches and pains. I avoid countries and neighborhoods where I might end up as a hostage or a crime victim. I’m careful that the food I consume does not contain organisms not listed on the menu.

A City with a Beautiful Past and a Simple Vibrant Present

By Stuart J. Faber

Lake Georgetown (Courtesy Georgetown CVB)Up until a month ago, I had never heard of Georgetown, Texas. I’ve been to Texas a few times.  I’ve explored Dallas, Fort Worth, Houston, Galveston, San Antonio, and Austin. Recently, a business obligation brought me to Georgetown. The business trip evolved into a love affair with a city.

Georgetown, a city with a population of approximately 50,000, lies just about due north of Austin. On the northeastern edge of Texas Hill Country, portions of the city are located on a fault line of the Balcones Escarpment, which is characterized by black fertile soils and glistening rivers.

Ventura County–Small Town Feeling–Huge Attractions

By Stuart J. Faber

Aerial view of Ventura. (Broc Ellinger)Across the United States, there are so many destinations competing for the tourist buck, it’s often difficult for the traveler to make a decision–especially when your family or group has a variety of interests. One kid loves the water, another hates it, dad wants to explore the wine country, mom loves museums. Perhaps one family member wants to play golf or go fishing. Another wants to pick strawberries.

Some destinations have one or two of these features. Ventura County is one place where you can have them all. And that’s not limited to the human members of the group. My gentle pit bull, Clara Belle, breaks out in a victory dance at the mere mention of an excursion to dog-friendly Ventura County. Plus, it’s a pilot’s paradise. Two fabulous airports with superb facilities are within miles of each other, not to mention Santa Paula Airport with its legendary assemblage of antique, hi-performance and homemade airplanes. Ventura County, with its three major cities, Ventura, Camarillo and Oxnard, has something for everyone. Pick strawberries under the warm sun in the morning and cool off at a quiet beach in the afternoon. Cycling, hiking, diving, golf, theater, top-notch cuisine–the list of exciting activities is endless. If these do not fill your plate, you can take a painting class or attend a local beer festival.