The Gull sees farthest,
who flies highest
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Lloyd Hughes
January 8, 1929 -
September 14, 2005
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This site and
ChallengerWest are
dedicated to the memory of my Dad, Lloyd
Dad loved to fly, and he shared
that love with me.
I have come to know and
appreciate that whenever you are
flying, it truly is a wonderful world.
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| It was my Dad who encouraged me
to just go for it and build this dealership when we discovered the
Challenger in a flying magazine. For both of us, the
Challenger was the answer to a dream long held - to own and fly an
affordable airplane. Dad had the benefit of flying
several different "company" planes over his
years as a pilot, including a Cessna 152, a Mooney Mark 21, and a
Turbocharged Cessna 337 Skymaster (C-FLHC shown below with Dad in the
late 1960's). Dad started flying when he was able to take a
Cessna 152 in on trade on a mobile home from a newlywed couple who both
owned airplanes, but no house! The 152 was used for his ab-initio training, but quickly traded off on a Mooney. Dad soloed in
that Mooney with 8 hours and completed his license in it. Imagine
doing that today in a high performance retractable!
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 His company was OK with him using the Mooney for business on the prairies,
but were not high on him flying in the mountains with it. Shortly
thereafter, on a business trip to Cranbrook, he was
"summoned" to the presence of the company owner, Ted.
The the story as it was told over the years was that
Dad was told to get rid of the Mooney. He said if the plane
went, so did he. Ted told him he meant for him to get rid of the
single, and get a twin if he was insistent on flying himself around
the mountains! This lead to the acquisition of the Skymaster -
then a couple of years old for the princely sum of about $38,000! |
| I remember fondly the many Saturday
mornings when he would roust me from sleep to join him on a trip to
visit one of his many remote dealers for the day. Some days we
went on big jets (when you're 5, a DC-9 is a big jet) especially
when your Dad makes sure you get to visit the pilots in the cockpit.
The best days though were when we went in Dad's plane - the Mooney,
or the Skymaster. That Skymaster was also the enabler for
family holidays (Disneyland) and weekend outings we enjoyed.
But, at one point in the early 1970s, the company was sold and Dad
decided to change jobs. Unfortunately, this meant that he no
longer had access to an airplane. Even in the 1970's, costs of
general aviation aircraft were prohibitive for all but the wealthy,
and Dad was forced to give up flying due to the costs. He
always longed to get back in the air though. It must have been way
back then that my love of flying was first kindled. On those
days he would let me hold the controls, and think that I was flying
the plane. I guess that desire never left me, as I get that
same magical feeling now at liftoff when I really am at the
controls.
I have flown thousands (seriously, thousands) of legs as a commercial
airline passenger, but never really had the intent/will/whatever to be
much more than an armchair pilot with MS Flight Simulator until we
discovered the Challenger. I think I must have 500 hours in that
simulator, and while it is fun, it is not real, and it never will be.
A few years ago Dad discovered the Challenger, and it was his answer to
affordable flying, and the impetus to me to finally put my passion for
flight back into action.
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ChallengerWest is our
vehicle to share that love of flying with others, and is dedicated to my Dad's ideals - to always do what is fair and
what is right.
It is as much his dream as it is mine - he felt that the
Challenger was the perfect answer to low cost recreational
flying. Without his encouragement, I probably never would have
pursued my pilot's license, or built this dealership. We did it so we'd have something fun to do together, besides just
work all the time. I just wish we had done it many years
sooner.
Some kids camp and hunt and fish with their
Dads. I got to fly with mine, and we talked a lot, all the time,
about everything. Perhaps that is what I miss the most - not being
able to call him up and just talk. After you lose your best
friend, who is also your Dad, you have a lot of time to think about
things, re-live memories, and wonder. |
 It
was the fall of 2004
when I first contacted Bryan (National
Ultralight) and shared our ideas for what was to become
ChallengerWest. C-ILHC arrived a few months later. At the
time, Dad was pushing me to "get on with it". I didn't realize it
at the time, but I think he must have known he was slowing down and
wanted to see things progress so he'd be sure I had something to do that
made me happy. |
| My Dad was the greatest, and I miss him dearly, but I take some
inspiration that I might fly with him again some day from some words that have
been my favourites since I first heard them narrated by Sir Richard
Harris with my Mom and Dad over the radio one Sunday morning almost
40 years ago. The Good Lord granted Dad this glorious sunrise on his last
morning on this world.
Maybe he thought it was a good day to fly home.
My Daughter took this photo that morning, many hours before Dad's
passing.
Who knows why … |
From Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard
Bach:
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| Hours later that day, and a couple after Dad had left
us, we were on our way east from Mom's. We saw a prism hanging beneath a cloud. We all saw it. I thought it was some Virga, reflecting the Sun.
Tracy said that no, it was Dad, letting us know he was OK.
I took note of the position of the prism, from
ours. It wasn't hard since we were a mile west of town. Later, thinking about the relative positions, I hauled out three
adjoining VNCs.
Plotting the prism and our location at the time yielded a straight line
between those two points, CEX3, and my Dad's home town.
Tracy was right.
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| The mysteries go on
... Tracy is right ... The Challenger has
rekindled my love of aviation, and it is my "Big Grin"
airplane. But, I am now a certified nut about aviation, and the
bug has bit me pretty hard. I have always had a dream to have an
airplane-enabled consulting practice (I am an IT Strategist). So I took the plunge and bought an older IFR 182 to go places fast and in the dark and the clouds, and
quickly got my Night and VFR Over the Top Ratings. I continue to
plug away at my IFR rating when time permits.
Some time ago,
I flew our 182 to Swift Current have coffee with my Dad's family and get some cross
country hours in for my IFR rating. I flew over Dad's
home town on the way down. Flight time - just over 2 hours -
should be lots of battery in the GPS for the flight home I thought, so no need to
plug it in. Departing for the return after dark, I had
gotten the airplane trimmed out at 6,500' and was settling in for a nice
cruise home. I was tracking a VOR outbound and lined up with the
reciprocal course in the GPS. The GPS battery warning popped up, and then
the
screen dropped. I was
focused on keeping her straight and level and on the VOR
outbound as I fished for the 12 volt cable for the Garmin in the glove
box (I like having the GPS when I'm on cross countries). I
eventually got it plugged into the GPS and 12v port (those of you who
have a Garmin will understand that this is no mean feat in the dark!). When the GPS powered up, I
was right on track - guess the VOR does work! I
finished flying home, and landed in some ground fog. All in all, a
very pretty night flight, and a good test of distractions in the cockpit
for a budding IFR flyer. Later, I powered up the GPS to
show Tracy my routing
 and my
actual track down and back. There was a gap in the track where the
GPS had lost power. That gap gave me a shiver. You can see
it here if you look close.
Years ago, when my Grandma passed away, Dad had driven me out to Pennant
to show me where he grew up. Heading back to Swift Current, I saw
the telltale elevators of the next town and asked him what it was
called. He said "Success". Getting closer, and seeing the
scarcity of the place, I asked him why they didn't call it "Failure".
I remember him chuckling a bit, as Dad's do when their kids say stuff
like that. Turns out the GPS shut down right about
"Failure", and I got it powered up right about Dad's home town of
Pennant. I don't think I looked out the window once while flying
the attitude indicator, altimeter, VOR and fishing for that plug in, so
I probably missed the lights of Pennant that night. My Dad had a great
sense of humour, and I'm pretty sure he was just letting me know that he
hadn't forgotten about that night we were together so many years ago,
and maybe just letting me know he was still looking out for me. You
can form
your own conclusions. I like to think that my Dad flies with me
all the time. Perhaps that place between here and now isn't so far
away after all. I feel closest to it every time I go flying. |
Louise Hughes
January 12, 1926 - December 22,
2007
We lost Mom just before Christmas, 2007 on December 22nd. She left
us pretty suddenly, and I'm sad I hadn't gotten C-ILHC done yet so she
could see it finished and come flying with me again. She always
checked in on my progress on C-ILHC whenever she was over for a visit,
and certainly encouraged me to get it finished. Mom wasn't a big
flyer (she actually hated it), but she knew how much Dad and I loved
airplanes, so I did manage to get her up in both Jelly Bean and our 182
- only once in each though, and I am sure that was more than she wanted!
Here, Tracy is giving her a pep talk before the big departure in C-IJBN ...
And no doubt here, she is saying a prayer as I get ready to depart.
I had great plans of taking Mom for one of those Oh-so-Awesome water
landings, but the only thing she hated more than flying was swimming,
and she knew if she didn't let me put a life vest on her, I wouldn't fly
over water! Mom was pretty amazed at just how much payload a
Challenger could carry: an oversize pilot, full fuel, Amphibs, and
Grandma!
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Mom and Dad, Clear Skies, and Happy Landings
I'm sure we'll meet again.
My Dad's Sister sent me this.
She called it "God's way of saying Have a Nice day".
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