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 Previous: ARRL Expresses Concerns About Ham Radio Impact of 70-cm Changes |  Next: Amateur Radio Hurricane Conference Looks Ahead to Stormy Weather |
By Courtney Duncan, N5BF
February 25, 2003
A father-and-son team take a Field Day 2002 mountain bike trip into the hills above La Canada, California, to work HF to UHF with only what fits in their backpacks.
The first city block of the mountain bike ride to our intended Field Day site was downhill. The remaining three miles were uphill, about 2000 feet worth of uphill to a fork in the La Canada cross-town equestrian trail at 3000 feet elevation that overlooks most of southern California. My pack, containing radio gear, batteries, antenna materials, food and water, was 31 pounds; my son John's was somewhat lighter. I expected the climb to the site to take around an hour, having hiked the route from home several times in 65 minutes.
John, KG6HCO, was licensed in July 2001 at age ten after some months of study with his two big sisters. After that accomplishment was complete, we started working on our "Big Event Together," something I had done with each of the kids in turn. With Viannah, KG6GXW, it was backpacking across the Grand Canyon. Katy, KG6HUI, and I had camped and kayaked around Channel Islands National Park. For John, it looked like the Big Event was going to involve mountain biking. In May 2002, we bought entry-level mountain bikes and made use of commuting or weekend opportunities to ride around in the local hills together. A week before Field Day it occurred to me that this was John's first Field Day as a licensed ham and it would be an opportunity for us to use our bikes, introduce him to this aspect of ham radio and realize a decades-old goal of mine: some sort of low-key, bicycle-centric Field Day outing.
In a real disaster, a typical ham might be found rummaging around the house, or what was left of it, for enough equipment to cobble together a station and get on the air to try to establish some sort of connectivity. A good Field Day attempt could work like that, too. I knew I probably had enough equipment to put together a modest operation quickly, so Friday evening before Field Day, we emptied our backpacks of the usual school and work paraphernalia and set out to prepare for Field Day with whatever we could find at hand that would fit in them.
 Courtney, N5BF, applies sunscreen to John, KG6HCO, just before mounting up for the uphill ride. The neighbor cat, Jesse, did not go with them. |
Seeing What's in the Closet
I got out my ancient collection of handheld FM transceivers, old rigs for 2 and 1.25 meters, and 70 centimeters. Also, I had a more modern handheld that features 6 and 2 meters, and 70 and 23 cm. John brought along his own 70-cm FM handheld, with which we would stay in touch with home on the WR6JPL 445.2 MHz repeater that was conveniently situated on a hilltop across the valley.
We checked all the batteries for these rigs and started them through a top-off rotation with their chargers. I also hoped to get my Ten-Tec Argonaut 509 QRP transceiver into the backpack, too, and it did fit into one of the compartments, barely. The Argonaut had been my "big rig" for years so I had a longwire tuner to go with it and a crystal calibrator for accurately setting the analog frequency dial. Now we just needed a power source for the Argonaut and wire for an HF antenna. I bought two 6 volt lantern batteries for this but, after a fruitless search in the garage, a sufficient length of wire became the beginning of a list for yet another trip to the hardware store.
With John's help I carefully hooked up everything in the middle of the floor to make sure we had enough parts to actually get all this equipment on the air. Nothing is more frustrating than hauling 20 pounds of radios and accessories to a remote location then being unable to use them for lack of one cable. A straight key, little headphones and a stack of different cables were all tested in their intended circuits. I had a hunch that a memory keyer and paddle might become important if I were going to attempt more than one CW contact as KG6HCO/N5BF. I eyed the stack of equipment and the packs with trepidation; finding a suitable place and the technique to pack these items, particularly the delicate iambic paddle, might be tricky.
We also kept close track of the tools needed to put this together or field-service something. Space and mass were at a premium in our packs, but it could be a real pain to be on-site, far from everything, and not have that Phillips screwdriver or wire stripper you needed.
Setting the Strategy and Last-Minute Details
The strategy was to have John operate the handhelds. I would help with radio contest protocol and logging, and so wouldn't be able to pay much attention to the HF rig unless he really took off on his own. Later we could take a break from local VHF/UHF FM and John could log for me or observe while I tried HF. I might even get him interested in speaking into the Argonaut microphone! In four or five hours, I estimated, we could make as many as 100 contacts in this way. Lots of stations between here and San Diego would have VHF and UHF FM positions. I knew we could make some HF contacts, but didn't expect this particular setup to be a hot performer.
Saturday morning we started packing in earnest at 9:30 AM. I took a bag of Lucky Charms for my afternoon post-ride snack; John packed an equivalent bag of potato chips. The ride would be a workout in the modest heat, so I made sure we had over six quarts of water between us.
We organized tools, cables and other parts into plastic shopping bags or freezer bags for protection and to make them easy to locate and keep up with on-site. Antenna wire was still the only thing on the "don't have" list and we needed to make that trip to the store before we could close out.
At 11:00 AM, Field Day 2002 opened. At that moment we were getting into the truck to go to the hardware store. I put my handheld transceiver on 446 MHz. Sure enough, somebody was already there calling "CQ Field Day." A half hour and $10 later, we emerged from the store with 100 feet of No. 18 insulated wire and a pack of gum.
 Ready to depart from our driveway, N5BF and KG6HCO, have all radios, batteries, antennas, tools, food, water, towels, logs, etc in the backpacks. |
Back home I threw four insulators and two 50-foot lengths of nylon rope in a bag, suspecting that this might make a reasonable HF antenna implementation closer to possible. We split the wire into a 70 foot piece for the aerial and a 30 foot piece for counterpoise, I soldered appropriate connectors on each one, and we wound it all back onto the spool, which obliged by breaking in half as we worked. At last we were ready to close out the backpacks.
It's All Uphill From Here
It was 12:50 PM when we were ready to get underway. At the last minute I remembered to put sunscreen on both of us. After pictures, goodbyes and the race downhill for that initial city block, we started a slow, methodical pedal up the street. It was about a mile up to an entrance on the Edison Easement where we could join the equestrian trail. As his sisters before him on this same route, John tired quickly and wanted rest stops. I promised ten minutes at the end of each mile but wouldn't stop except when we could find some shade. As we headed north towards the edge of town the trail got steeper. Eventually, we crossed the last city street and entered a canyon in the foothills at the edge of town.
"Can we stop and set up here?" John asked.
"No, we couldn't hear hardly anybody from here."
The next hour was an ordeal far beyond my expectations. We walked, pushed, traded bikes and stopped to pant in place, but kept climbing and climbing. A neighbor had warned us that the stretch ahead of us was not good for biking. After a while, I started pushing John from behind. This evened out our "windedness." I started saying things like "we're nearly nearly nearly there," which he didn't find entertaining enough to keep his mind off the climb for long. Nearly at the top we stopped for half an hour, drank some water and poured some more on our heads before finishing the last 50 yards of 20 percent grade. Finally, we arrived at our Field Day site!
1513 local (2213Z): Arrive at the site: Odometer (rolling) Time 1:16:21, Elapsed Time 2:21:00, Distance 5.44 km, average speed 4.2 km/h, record slow.
After another rest, we dragged the picnic table over into a tiny patch of mid-afternoon shade and started unpacking. As soon as we had enough radio pieces together with something to use for a log, we started listening and I encouraged John to start making contacts. The radio happened to be my old 70 cm handheld and it was set to 446.00 simplex. John would soon refer to this as the "600 radio" since "600" was the display on the thumbwheels. He didn't really know what to do, so I made the first contact as a demonstration then handed him the radio. John, normally a chatterbox, was totally silent after pushing the push-to-talk button.
"Say CQ Field Day from KG6HCO!" I urged in a loud whisper.
"What?" he asked, still keyed.
After a while we had "CQ from KG6HCO" down pat, but then he would unkey and get an answer and forget immediately what was said. I urged, "Say W6RO this is KG6HCO One Bravo Los Angeles." He said, "W6RO this is KG6HCO" and unkeyed. W6RO gave his report and asked for ours. Most people were patient like that, particularly the experienced ones who knew what was going on at our end.
There was more to learning contesting communication technique than I had anticipated. We also struggled with just the right timing and protocol for answering a CQ, something I had learned myself over about 30 years of operating in various forms. To help, I wrote "KG6 Hotel Charley Oscar -- One Bravo Los Angeles LAX" at the top of the log sheet for reference.
After a few QSOs it all went well enough. We spent our first hour alternating between 446.000 and 223.500 MHz, with John doing the talking and me doing the logging and instructing.
Getting on the High Frequencies
At that point, I decided it was time to get the HF antenna up and see what we could do there. We dumped out the wire, ropes, and insulators, and then I looked around for something high to throw the wire over. The area was chaparral, with none of the scrub more than a few feet high excepting the shade tree behind us. I unrolled the 70-foot wire section to see how far it would reach. Looked like the best bet was a five-foot high bush behind the horse hitch rail up the hill across the clearing. Tying one insulator on the end, I wound up and gave it my best shot. It went to the left, not over the highest part. Fighting snags, I reeled in and tried again. Same thing. Finally, I just lightly secured the end by tying it around a branch so it wouldn't come loose by surprise.
Back at the table, I unrolled one of the ropes and, tying another insulator on its end, threw it the other direction, over the shade tree where it snagged and dangled over the trail below. This hadn't gone much better. Back at the rig, I tied a third insulator on the other end of the rope, passed the antenna through it, then went down to the trail below to haul the completed assembly up as high as it would go, securing the trail end to a low branch. I estimated that this left most of the 70 foot wire length around 8 feet above local ground with a tag end dangling down to connect to the longwire tuner on the table.
Simple by comparison, we rolled out the 30-foot segment along the ground in a different direction and grounded it to the radio.
Using the Argonaut internal SWR circuit, I loaded up on the highest band where I could hear signals--15 meters--and tuned around. A few signals were over S-9. We might make a few HF QSOs yet.
 KG6HCO operates the one of the handhelds from the FD site. |
I contemplated the task of sending KG6HCO/N5BF at Field Day CW rates and decided it was really worthwhile to try to get the automatic keyer working. A quarter of an hour later--and after deploying most of the tools and the multi-meter--it was determined beyond a reasonable doubt that the old yellow phono-to-phono cable center conductor was open. After all those years of struggle, this cable was, finally and formally, transferred from the supplies bag to the trash bag. But there was no spare. Only the straight key and its cable seemed to reliably key the rig.
After another twenty minutes, I had cannibalized that cable for service. Disconnecting the no-connector end from the straight key, I gingerly laid the loose ends in the phono jack on the keyer. It worked! If I was careful and didn't knock it loose, it was ready to go.
The KG6HCO/N5BF call on HF--CW or phone--was too much to be very effective, although it did give the working stations a real communications challenge to rise to. Running the keyer at 20-25 WPM, every time I got that long call through in the clear, the immediate response from the other end was "?". I decided not to be offended but entertained, pointing this out to John as he watched me work the magic of CW. The first contact was KH6J, 2E PAC. Later we picked up W7ECA, 2A MT for second-best DX. John let out a whoop for these, asking if I could also work Colorado or Maine.
In either mode, I was working the stations that I could receive over S-9, a little disappointing, but not unexpected for the QRP Argonaut with a minimal antenna. I had done whole Field Days in this sort of condition in the past, with this very Argonaut, actually.
Our final report would be 48 QSOs in four and a half hours. Nine HF contacts were made on CW, while three more came via phone. We had one 6 meter FM QSO, 15 on 2 meters, 6 contacts on 1.25 meters and 14 QSOs on 70 cm, all simplex.
We hadn't done badly on 2 meters, considering the congestion from our high vantage. They were on a hilltop twenty miles behind the hills, not a likely throw. However, the best UHF DX was San Diego, about 120 miles away.
Things that Go BUMP in the Night
By the time I switched off the Argonaut at 8 PM and started disconnecting things, the sun had been out of site behind the hills to the west for more than 15 minutes, but if we hurried I thought we would be down well into civilization again before it was too dark to see much.
Reversing our setup steps, we took down the HF antenna, rolled it up and packed it away, then laboriously reloaded our packs. The food was half gone, the water nearly all gone, but that was okay, as it was cool and we wouldn't need much going down. I noticed the nearly full moon rising to the east and got a picture of John and his bike with the moon in the background. By 8:20 PM we were ready to start. We still had traveling light when we weren't among the trees. I called my wife Viann, WD5EHM, on the repeater and arranged to be picked up at the bottom of the Edison Easement, since it was going to be too dark to ride in traffic by the time we got to public streets. She would meet us in the pickup.
 Field Day 2002, KG6HCO/N5BF, One Bravo, Los Angeles. |
The trail seemed steeper going down, especially from a vantage sitting up on a bike. Immediately we faced the first 20 percent grade, got off and walked down. There weren't many sections that were level enough to actually ride on, but when there were we could coast over them, saving precious minutes. One stretch about half way down was along a ridgeline with steep dropoffs on both sides and a deep erosion channel down the middle of the narrow path. I got off and walked this, worrying about losing control, even while walking. John came up behind me trying to ride it, but got off too when he reached me.
Just before 9 PM we crossed the catch basin and climbed up to the last set of switchbacks before getting down to town. We walked down these too. The only difference between ascending and descending was the speed and effort required, but we had to walk in pretty much all the same places. Yes the neighbor had been right, this wasn't a suitable biking trail, and John's riding experience today had been so poor that I resolved that the next several bike outings wouldn't involve hills at all, if possible. We could go ride around a lake or something.
The remaining distance to the city street was less than a block's worth and had only mild grades. This was good since it was now too dark to really see the dirt road surface. I was riding the brakes at nearly minimum stand up speeds nonetheless, unable to see more than shadows and shades. Just after deciding to get off a few yards ahead, my front wheel stopped cold. I thought I was braking too hard and let off the front brake. No result. I let off the back brake but the bike rear was already swinging around to the left and my body was continuing forward over the stopped handlebars. The front wheel was in an erosion rut. I let out a yell and came down hard in the downhill trail ahead, sliding forward on my right leg, hip and palm. This was going to be a bad case of road rash, worse than usual. I was sore all over and had really punched my right arm. There was dead grass sticking in the back of my shirt. How had it gotten there with the backpack in place?
I lay in the dirt pondering all this and watched John charging over the rise behind me, a dark gray silhouette against a lighter gray backdrop.
"Dad, are you OK?"
"Yeah."
He stopped to help. It was really too dark to inspect much. That right elbow felt sprained, but could be moved around. I struggled to my feet and dusted off, sore all over. The backpack seemed intact. The wheels on the bike both turned. I walked out of the eroded area and mounted back up. My quadband handheld had slid off my waist, but the microphone was still clipped to my shirt. I remounted it; it was time to call home for that pick up which was going to be more important than ever now.
"WD5EHM this is N5BF."
"WD5EHM."
"It's time to come pick us up, we'll be there about the time you are if you leave now." I tried to make this all sound matter-of-fact over the repeater.
"OK, I'll be right there, WD5EHM clear."
We walked our bikes through a dip and to the street, crossed to the trail on the other side, and walked up to a level place. I got back on and started down the mild incline, John now in the lead. Two long blocks and a half mile later, it was good to see the truck waiting there. John arrived first and was half loaded by the time I pulled up, carefully and slowly.
"There was a little mishap," I remarked dryly, trying to be stoic, "I went over the handlebars. John is OK."
Viann helped me get the pack off and load the bike into the truck. Inside she remarked, "That leg looks bad, we'll clean it up at home."
After de-staging and getting cleaned up, the three of us got back into the truck and went out for a late fast food dinner. I started shaking in the air conditioning. "They always keep it cold in these places," I said, but Viann's eyes said it might be something more. She is a Registered Nurse. "You might be having a little shock," she said, "maybe you were hurt worse than you think."
The arm was hard to use; I was nursing it. The scrape on the leg was still oozing. We went home. I took a Motrin and went to bed. At 3:30 AM I woke up, still in pain. We got up and were at the Emergency Room at Verdugo Hills Hospital an hour later. X-Rays were taken, I had a radial head fracture in the right elbow. I was put in a ten-pound splint and my leg was scrubbed down with disinfected industrial sand paper. I was given strong drugs and sent home to sleep it off.
Field Day 2002, KG6HCO/N5BF, was one for the books. The event file contains the log, summary sheet, dup sheets, pictures, emergency room bracelet and a shot IC-T81A leather carrying case. Next year we'll have to try something different.
About the Author: Courtney Duncan, N5BF, was first
licensed in 1972 and has been active in many aspects of Amateur Radio. He is a
former Vice President of Operations of the Radio Amateur Satellite Corporation,
AMSAT-NA, and a member of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory Amateur Radio Club,
W6VIO. A life member of ARRL, he works on software and deep-space navigation at
JPL. He can be reached at n5bf@amsat.org.
| Previous: ARRL Expresses Concerns About Ham Radio Impact of 70-cm Changes | Next: Amateur Radio Hurricane Conference Looks Ahead to Stormy Weather |
