Take One Pristine Bonanza, Add Luxurious Tent And Friends
Aplenty
by ANN Correspondent Jeremy King
When Jeff Deaton comes to camp at AirVenture, he doesn't touch
down, taxi in and throw a sleeping bag under the wing. He makes a
statement.
For one week a year, Deaton -- owner of an award-wining
Beechcraft Bonanza -- lives in luxury that Boy Scouts dream of. A
giant, two-roomed tent opens into a sunroom, another sunshade along
the side of the tent makes for a wrap-around, grass-floored veranda
with a view. Across the taxiway, a friend's Cessna 170 decorates
the front yard.
The rise and fall of gull-winged Stinsons in the distance
substitute for rolling hills; the staccato of short exhaust stacks
and the rumble of ancient airplanes ambling to and from the runway
replace the songbirds with a symphony to these enthusiasts'
ears.
This could only be AirVenture.
Deaton, a retired Marine who now makes a living with yachts on
the outer banks of North Carolina, is a master of details. As we
talk, his eye catches numerous things he constantly adjusts. The
door over his fuel cap, the interior polished to a gleam, isn't
opened to the proper angle. His flagpole needs another section
inserted to raise the Jolly Roger higher over his compound. This
kind of detail is lost on average campers, but it pays for
Deaton.
A sign under the right wing lists the awards this airplane won
in judging, and we're not talking about "Best 50s V-tailed Bonanza
under 227 but over 223 horsepower," at unheard-of fly-ins. The list
includes buzzwords like grand champion, best custom classic,
AirVenture, Lakeland, and Burlington. Those aren't easy awards to
win.
The tires gleam. Anything not shiny on this airplane would stand
out like a sore thumb. The oil tank reflects like a wavy mirror, as
does the inside of the baggage door. A fuel door, flipped open,
reflects a tiny, low cloud floating over.
But this is a Bonanza, and an early one at that -- it's not
known for hauling cargo. So, Deaton had to plan carefully for his
arrival.
"In years past, I shipped my gear up here to a friend who held
onto it for me," Deaton said. "This year, I rented a storage unit
just down the road for our stuff." It must have been a large
unit.
Deaton says each year, a new widget works its way into his
campground ("We started with a blender.") This year's widget is a
big one. "We have an oven, and cooked Lasagna for 10 the other
night," Deaton said. The oven also yielded chocolate chip cookies.
It's a routine Deaton perfected in a short span.
"I've only been camping like this since 2004," Deaton said. "I'm
a new guy, but we're making an impression here."
Everyone has a role in this campsite. Deaton handles breakfast
and lunch every day; the families around the campsite take turns
preparing dinner every evening. Airplane lights line the awning in
front of Deaton's tent, and beneath them each night, the group of
family and friends watch slideshows of photos from the day.
Deaton's collection of friends camping with him grows each year;
this year is up to 14, but by midweek the crowd had tapered down
("voted off the island")" by reality checks, he said. Deaton
anticipated more friends to show up as the weekend neared,
though.
Deaton's wife, Suzette, and son, Blake, 6, came along for the
adventure.
"She loves it," Deaton said. "We've got a queen size airbed, and
most of the comforts of home here. Blake is really into the
military thing and he runs around here with a military helmet on
his head. We call him General Mayhem."
"Most of the people you see camping here are very successful
people who could stay in a very nice hotel, if they wanted to," he
added. "You couldn't pay me to stay in a hotel. I'm here for the
airshow and to have my airplane judged, but I love the 11-day
tailgate party that comes with it."