We plan and work toward Oshkosh all year—it’s hard to believe we’re here again. Each July, a temporary city rises from the grass and gravel of Wittman Regional Airport, full of familiar faces, fleeting reunions, and the thrum of propellers overhead. It’s a joy to run into friends and family we only see in Wisconsin, but the week always feels like it slips through our fingers just as quickly as it begins.
This year, we made a last-minute decision to arrive a few days early. It was exactly what we all needed. The restorers—always happy to be around airplanes—welcomed the chance to unwind before judging responsibilities kicked in.
Soaking in the Stillness
Paul and Peppermint Pam were the first of our group to try and arrive, but the heavy downpours on Wednesday evening forced the campground to temporarily close to new arrivals. They were turned away and came back Thursday morning when things reopened. The other restorer and his family arrived shortly afterward just behind the weather. The restorer and I got into town later in the day, thankful our timing worked out.
By Friday, we were all settled in and grateful for the slower pace. Sitting along the runway, the restorer shared insights on the aircraft we saw landing—Uncle Paul chiming in now and then. We were joined by the other restorer’s family and friends working on their Champ’s wings. There was nothing to do but relax and take in the moment. It was a rare stretch of time with no set purpose, and we didn’t realize how much we needed it until we were living it.
Evenings at the campsite brought more than dinner. We compared schedules, watched and debated the merits of radar apps, and good-naturedly placed bets on whether the weather would hold. The variety of weather apps and their dedicated purposes is always a hot topic, especially when you’re living outside for a week.
Watching the Arrivals Roll In
Friday afternoon brought a treat: watching arrivals from vintage parking along Runway 18/36 and its show-only parallel. There’s something timeless about sitting in the grass, rating landings with friends, and hearing the familiar hum of radial and Continental engines in the air. Some planes were so polished you could see the yellow dot from the runway reflected on their bellies.
We saw an RV towed down the grass to the broken airplane area, where a Champ had already claimed a spot. The weather forecast had called for rain, and it didn’t disappoint—arriving just after dinner. The Bonanza mass arrival made it in the next day.
Mama’s Chief and a Well-Timed Gift
One of the unexpected highlights was meeting a former owner of Mama’s Chief. He had taken the airplane to school with him and had fabricated a bracket for installing shoulder straps—something we had planned to do ourselves. He offered us the bracket, and both the restorer and I were relieved and grateful to incorporate it into the project. With all that’s going on at the restoration shop, not having to fabricate another part ourselves means more time focused on other key areas.
Somewhere along the way, the restorer and Uncle Paul puzzled through what brakes to use on the Chief. Bit by bit, the project is moving forward, even while we’re on the road.
Parts, Prep, and Peppermint Pam
Back at camp, Peppermint Pam gave us the rundown on how to get parts into Aeromart. The restorer had sorted and boxed everything up while I worked on other projects back at home. Now it was my turn to input and tag. Before long, I was at the computer under the Aeromart tent inputting the tags. A volunteer helped laminate them, and again at Peppermint Pam’s suggestion the restorer and I spent the afternoon placing tags on the parts back at the campsite before delivering them to the big parts tent.
The heat made the tent feel like a convection oven. Shade was precious, and the less time spent inside, the better.
Later that night, the other restorer fired up a grill at his campsite for cheesesteaks with his family—and offered to grill burgers to Pam and me. Since neither of us had thought far enough ahead to plan dinner, a quick grocery run later, we were back by the fire with burgers sizzling and conversation flowing. It was the perfect ending to a productive day and a relaxed start to the week.
The Rhythm of the Week Ahead
The cicadas the evening before we left home reminded me how nature operates on its own timeline. Meanwhile, we chase our calendar and checklist to get ready for the show.
When things kick off officially, the restorers and Uncle Paul will be judging in the antique category, with Uncle Paul apprenticing this year before taking on judging duties himself next year. Anticipation builds not just for airplanes, but for old favorites like fish from a local restaurant and those legendary deep-fried cheese curd tacos.
One of our volunteers compared Oshkosh to Brigadoon, that mythical village that appears for only one day every hundred years. For us, it’s one week every summer. A gathering that feels both timeless and ephemeral. We’ve arrived, we’re ready, and for now, we’re soaking in the stillness before the bustle begins.
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