Flying west to San Jose, California, and AOPA Expo, I look down upon one of the most amazing and beautiful regions in the country: western Kansas. Other than the enlightened folks who live there, I may be the only person who has ever ranked that tabletop-flat part of the world on an aesthetic par with places such as Yellowstone National Park; Sanibel Island, Florida; or Colorado's Front Range. But that is one of the great things about airplanes. They enable us to see that the land does not have to offer up soaring mountains, thick forests, or suntanned beaches to be considered beautiful. From the perspective of the cockpit we see how every region of the country is unique in the nature of its physical features, the way it has been settled, and the patterns in which it is cultivated. Altitude obscures the messy details of the surface world, and what we see from above is mostly perfection and beauty. So it is with western Kansas.
It's mid-October and the milo crop carpets the ground in rich brown hues. The land is flat, of course, but from on high I can see how the water drains into shallow valleys, forming small streams that feed into larger ones that eventually form modest rivers. The land is so neatly sectioned off into one-mile-square blocks, which are then subdivided into quarter sections, that it takes on the appearance of graph paper. But the farmers appear to rebel against this straight-line precision by planting their crops in undulating rows that follow no discernible pattern. However, there is method to their artistry, Paul Smith explains. In order to catch and hold the modest amount of rain that falls, the farmers terrace the land. The curvy rows of crops follow the terrace lines, he says.
Smith is not a farmer, but he's been around them most of his life. He runs Paul's Pharmacy in Oakley, Kansas, a small town near the western border of the state. Oakley is one of a string of small towns that pop up from Interstate 70 at what appear to be 10-mile intervals. From an airplane at night the lights in the little towns look like glowing beads on an I-70 necklace.
I've never been to Oakley, but I flew over it on the way to San Jose. There are few towns in western Kansas; even fewer have airports. I studied them as I flew west. One in particular caught my eye. The airport is on the south side of town, near the three main features of the town — the railroad tracks, the grain elevators, and the interstate. The nearest-airport feature on the GPS identified the field as OEL, Oakley Municipal. I wondered what life is like in a small town where the nearest city, Denver, is a 4.5-hour drive. What goes on at the airport? I didn't have time to stop and ask, so later on I telephoned.
Outside of the two crop-dusting companies that operate at the airport, things are pretty quiet these days, Smith explains. The city of Oakley owns the airport, and Smith sits on its board. He is a pilot, although he isn't active and hasn't had an airplane since someone destroyed his nearly-new Piper Dakota in a hand-propping accident a few years back. He misses that airplane.
Oakley, like the rest of the small towns in western Kansas, still suffers from a depressed farm economy. The harvests are plentiful, Smith says, but the prices farmers get for those crops are low. Family farms still dominate, he adds, and the families are wearing tight belts. That doesn't leave much room for flying. Of the 11 airplanes based at Oakley, only five or six are privately owned. The rest are dusters.
Still, the airport supports a business. John Lysinger owns and operates Hawk's Nest Aircraft Services. "My wife picked out the name for me," he says. Operates is an all-inclusive word in Lysinger's case, because he works by himself. He does it all — pumps fuel ($1.82 a gallon), hands out the keys to the courtesy car (a Chevrolet — nothing fancy), rents hangars ($60 a month), fixes airplanes, and answers the telephone. He works Monday through Friday and often a half- day on Saturday. Fuel is available 24 hours a day. If you land after hours, just walk across the street to the truck stop. They'll be happy to come over and open up the pumps. You can get a hot meal, too.
Mostly, Lysinger fixes airplanes; and mostly they are dusters. The fall and winter are busy, as the pilots get their Ag Cats, Air Tractors, Ag Trucks, and Braves ready for the busy May- to-August season. When I called, Lysinger had several overhauls and inspections under way.
A native of southwestern Missouri, Lysinger earned an A&P certificate on the G.I. Bill; but when he was ready to go to work, no one was hiring. He went into farming instead. He had moved to Oakley, his wife's hometown, and 8 years ago decided to go into the aviation sevices business. "I figured I could just as well go broke fixing aircraft as farming," he says.
Hawk's Nest isn't going broke, and Oakley Municipal isn't going away. Things may be a little lean now in Oakley, but farmers — and aviators — are used to the ebb and flow of prosperity.
