From: To: Subject: krnet Digest 24 Aug 2002 18:02:05 -0000 Issue 504 Date: Saturday, August 24, 2002 11:03 AM krnet Digest 24 Aug 2002 18:02:05 -0000 Issue 504 Topics (messages 12237 through 12252): project update 12237 by: Mark Langford Weight and Balance 12238 by: UncleLeon.aol.com 12240 by: Ronald Freiberger Exhaust heat and Baffling 12239 by: Ronald Freiberger 12242 by: Jim Faughn 12247 by: Ross Youngblood 12248 by: Deems Herring The Death of a Dream 12241 by: Kobus de Wet 12251 by: Mr. Bryce Guenther 12252 by: bstarrs Re: KR2 in Sydney 12243 by: Mark Jones Baffling seal material 12244 by: larry flesner exhaust 12245 by: Brian Kraut 12246 by: bstarrs Making your Baffling seal material - Re: Larry Fleshner. 12249 by: Daniel Heath The most effective exhaust 12250 by: Daniel Heath Administrivia: To subscribe to the digest, e-mail: To unsubscribe from the digest, e-mail: To post to the list, e-mail: ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 07:26:06 -0500 To: From: "Mark Langford" Subject: project update Message-ID: <000701c24aa0$41c81690$5f0ca58c@mlangford> NetHeads, This ain't much of a project update, but it's a clue, anyway. See http://home.hiwaay.net/~langford/index.html#update for a few details. Just so y'all wouldn't think I've given up or something. By the way, I've hit the 3900 hour mark, in just over eight years, which is an average of something like 9 hours a week. Of course I took 2 years off to help Larry French design the the Lionheart in there somewhere... Mark Langford, Huntsville, AL mailto:langford@hiwaay.net see more details of KR2S project N56ML at http://home.hiwaay.net/~langford ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 10:18:48 EDT To: krnet@mailinglists.org From: UncleLeon@aol.com Subject: Weight and Balance Message-ID: <1aa.748c2d2.2a979e48@aol.com> --part1_1aa.748c2d2.2a979e48_boundary Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
About a year ago I flew in a KR-2 and found the center of gravity was too far 
"aft" with 2 people in the airplane, and required a faster (wheel) landing 
than would be used in most conventional-gear airplanes.  Other than that, 
this airplane seemed to be extremely well built; leading me to believe that 
it was unlikely that the airplane was "misbuilt".  Is this (center of gravity 
problem) a common configuration in KR-2 airplanes ?  Is it better in the 
later model Kr's (such as the KR-2S) ?

--part1_1aa.748c2d2.2a979e48_boundary--

------------------------------

Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 10:53:53 -0400
To: "KRNET" ,
	
From: "Ronald Freiberger" 
Subject: RE: KR> Weight and Balance
Message-ID: 

Every aircraft is different, except Virg's.  He built it to the plans.  How
did you KNOW it had to be landed faster?

Ron Freiberger...
mailto:ron.martha@mindspring.com

-----Original Message-----
From: UncleLeon@aol.com [mailto:UncleLeon@aol.com]
Sent: Friday, August 23, 2002 10:19 AM
To: krnet@mailinglists.org
Subject: KR> Weight and Balance

About a year ago I flew in a KR-2 and found the center of gravity was
too far
"aft" with 2 people in the airplane, and required a faster (wheel) landing
than would be used in most conventional-gear airplanes.  Other than that,
this airplane seemed to be extremely well built; leading me to believe that
it was unlikely that the airplane was "misbuilt".  Is this (center of
gravity
problem) a common configuration in KR-2 airplanes ?  Is it better in the
later model Kr's (such as the KR-2S) ?

------------------------------

Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 10:48:43 -0400
To: "KRNET" 
From: "Ronald Freiberger" 
Cc: "Jim Faughn" 
Subject: Exhaust heat and Baffling
Message-ID: 

 Jim Faughn,

At OSHKOSH, I noticed some interesting materials in your engine
installation. You had a wrap around your exhaust pipes that looked effective
and seem to be holding up well and getting the job done.  Also, you had what
appeared to be silicone/glass fiber material for seals in your engine
baffling.   That also looked like it has been very serviceable.

Would you share that information with us?

Ron Freiberger...
mailto:ron.martha@mindspring.com

------------------------------

Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 16:49:16 -0500
To: "Ronald Freiberger" ,
	"KRNET" 
From: "Jim Faughn" 
Subject: RE: Exhaust heat and Baffling
Message-ID: 

I used a product known as Header Wrap on my exhaust pipes. This product has
a side effect and a disadvantage. It will absorb moisture and will increase
the tendency for your exhaust pipes to rust. This can be a major problem
especially if it rusts through and the exhaust starts flying into the engine
compartment while in flight. What I did was to nickel and chrome plate my
exhaust prior to wrapping so it would eliminate this possibility. I also
inspect it very carefully at each annual and when I have the cowling off. By
the way, the reason I had to do this was I built my cowling too close to
start with. I understand there is a new product you can apply to your
exhaust that takes care of all of this with no side effects, perhaps someone
can respond about this.

You are correct about the seals in the engine. It is left over fiberglass
that is covered with silicone. It is easy to make, easy to cut and easy to
repair if needed. It has also held up very good over the 11 years I've used
my plane.

Jim Faughn
N891JF

Not long til the gathering. Warm up your singing voices.

-----Original Message-----
From: Ronald Freiberger [mailto:ron.martha@mindspring.com]
Sent: Friday, August 23, 2002 9:49 AM
To: KRNET
Cc: Jim Faughn
Subject: Exhaust heat and Baffling

 Jim Faughn,

At OSHKOSH, I noticed some interesting materials in your engine
installation. You had a wrap around your exhaust pipes that looked effective
and seem to be holding up well and getting the job done.  Also, you had what
appeared to be silicone/glass fiber material for seals in your engine
baffling.   That also looked like it has been very serviceable.

Would you share that information with us?

Ron Freiberger...
mailto:ron.martha@mindspring.com

------------------------------

Date: Sat, 24 Aug 2002 00:20:44 -0700
To: "Ronald Freiberger" , "KRNET" , "Jim Faughn" 
From: Ross Youngblood 
Subject: Re: KR> RE: Exhaust heat and Baffling
Message-Id: 

Thanks Jim,
  I asked you about this at length at the '99 Gathering I think
it was.  So as soon as I got home I went shopping for someone
to nickel plate my exhaust stack.
  I found a local powder coating shop that could send them
out.  I described what I wanted to do, I wanted the nickel
plating so that I could wrap the pipes with header wrap.
He told me that it would be slightly cheaper, and much more
efficient to get the pipes ceramic coated.
   I'm told that the process involves creating a "plasma"
which bonds with the exhaust pipe metal and has a lifetime
guarentee.  You get your choice of finishes, I got a "chrome"
like finish, its a silver, but looks sort of chrome.
   If I recall it cost me about $280-380... it's been
a while... but that was about what it would cost to
get the headers sandblasted, and nickel coated.
    If someone out there just wants to wrap the pipes
and wait for them to rust, I have some unused fiberglass
header tape.  Just about everyone I talked too told me
this would rust out my pipes, so I had to ask Jim
how he got away with it... he nickel plated his pipes!
   The marketing claims on ceramic coating are that
the heat does not transfer to the pipes.  It gives
you two advantages in an airplane.
   1) Less heat in the cowling.
      - Fuel lines don't get as hot?
      - Battery doesn't get as hot?
       Perhaps
   2) More heat stays in the exhaust gas
      - 1-2% more HP gain 

   I haven't flown my plane yet, but static engine
tests tell me that the pipes DO get hot.  Perhaps
not has hot as before, I think ou might be able
to touch them quickly without frying your finger,
I think with the old non-coated, you were sure
to get fried on first contact... not scientific
and possibly not accurate, just an opinion.

8/23/2002 2:49:16 PM, "Jim Faughn"  wrote:

>I used a product known as Header Wrap on my exhaust pipes. This product has
>a side effect and a disadvantage. It will absorb moisture and will increase
>the tendency for your exhaust pipes to rust. This can be a major problem
>especially if it rusts through and the exhaust starts flying into the engine
>compartment while in flight. What I did was to nickel and chrome plate my
>exhaust prior to wrapping so it would eliminate this possibility. I also
>inspect it very carefully at each annual and when I have the cowling off. By
>the way, the reason I had to do this was I built my cowling too close to
>start with. I understand there is a new product you can apply to your
>exhaust that takes care of all of this with no side effects, perhaps someone
>can respond about this.
>
>You are correct about the seals in the engine. It is left over fiberglass
>that is covered with silicone. It is easy to make, easy to cut and easy to
>repair if needed. It has also held up very good over the 11 years I've used
>my plane.
>
>Jim Faughn
>N891JF
>
>Not long til the gathering. Warm up your singing voices.
>
>-----Original Message-----
>From: Ronald Freiberger [mailto:ron.martha@mindspring.com]
>Sent: Friday, August 23, 2002 9:49 AM
>To: KRNET
>Cc: Jim Faughn
>Subject: Exhaust heat and Baffling
>
>
> Jim Faughn,
>
>At OSHKOSH, I noticed some interesting materials in your engine
>installation. You had a wrap around your exhaust pipes that looked effective
>and seem to be holding up well and getting the job done.  Also, you had what
>appeared to be silicone/glass fiber material for seals in your engine
>baffling.   That also looked like it has been very serviceable.
>
>Would you share that information with us?
>
>Ron Freiberger...
>mailto:ron.martha@mindspring.com
>
>
>
>
>
>---------------------------------------------------------------------
>To post to the list, email: krnet@mailinglists.org , NOT "reply all"
>
>To UNsubscribe, e-mail: krnet-unsubscribe@mailinglists.org 
>For additional commands, e-mail: krnet-help@mailinglists.org
>
>See the KRNet archives at http://www.maddyhome.com/krsrch/index.jsp
>or http://www.bouyea.net/ for the Word files
>
>
Ross Youngblood
http://N541RY.com
mailto:rossy65@attbi.com (Home)
mailto:ross_youngblood@credence.com (Work)
 

------------------------------

Date: Sat, 24 Aug 2002 04:16:18 -0500
To: 
From: "Deems Herring" 
Subject: Re: KR> RE: Exhaust heat and Baffling
Message-ID: <000501c24b4e$e7dcba50$bd02a8c0@deems>

Ceramic is like any other insulator it slows down the transfer of heat but
they will get hot and if you ceramic coat the outside it traps the heat in
the metal. You can get a set of 321 stainless headers for about $500, thats
less than buying regular headers and having them coated They will not
corrode and it is the metal most resistant to heat stress cracking. They can
be wrapped without coating but I would recommend heat treating if you are
going to wrap them. If you or someone you know can weld 321 you can make a
set with wrap for less than $300. this is the material all the NASCAR, CART,
IRL and Formula 1 teams use. check out
http://www.aircraftexhaust.net/index.html
for information about 321 exhaust

Deems Herring Baudette, Minnesota
mailto:ballross@wiktel.com

Ross Youngblood wrote:
> Thanks Jim,
>   I asked you about this at length at the '99 Gathering I think
> it was.  So as soon as I got home I went shopping for someone
> to nickel plate my exhaust stack.
>   I found a local powder coating shop that could send them
> out.  I described what I wanted to do, I wanted the nickel

------------------------------

Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 20:10:20 +0200
To: ,
	"Liezl LaidLaw" ,
	"Carine&Martijn" 
From: "Kobus de Wet" 
Subject: The Death of a Dream
Message-ID: <001b01c24ad0$585650e0$010aa8c0@kobus>

------=_NextPart_000_0018_01C24AE1.1B1EDE20
Content-Type: text/plain;
	charset="iso-8859-1"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable

The Death of a Dream

This story was sent ot me by a friend in Zimbabwe - Larry Norton is a =
world renowned wildlife artist - this is his story

The death of a dream: One Zimbabwean farmer's story
For more than four decades, Larry Norton and his family farmed the same =
stretch of land in northern Zimbabwe - until last week. Here, he tells =
the devastating story of the pressures that forced him to leave
15 August 2002
I sit in a storage shed in Harare, surrounded by the chaotic elements of =
our life and home and our piles of possessions, and try to reflect on =
the past few days. Last Thursday, 8 August 2002, we evacuated our farm - =
Dahwye - in the Mvurwi region of Mashonaland in north-east Zimbabwe, =
about 100km from Harare, abandoning the home in which three generations =
of our family had lived for almost half a century.

After two years of mayhem, we could not go on. The government-sponsored =
land invasions had begun in March 2000, shortly before our 14-month-old =
son Oscar died from cancer. We were unable to spend his last days on the =
farm because of the trouble. He died in an apartment in Harare =
surrounded by refugee farmers from Macheke, 75km to the east of the =
capital, where in April that year David Stevens, a supporter of the main =
opposition party, the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC), was the =
first white farmer to be killed.

Since that time we have lived through the unparalleled destruction of a =
country and economy, under the corrupt and dictatorial rule of President =
Robert Mugabe and his Zanu-PF party. Our farm has been a microcosm of =
the battlefield.

My mother and father came north from South Africa in the 1950s. They =
worked as managers on various farms and borrowed money to purchase =
Dahwye in 1957. They nearly went broke, and for a time my father lived =
in a tent made from fertiliser bags while he opened up a tobacco farm in =
virgin bush. It was in an area described on the map as "Terra =
Incognita", but he made enough money there to pay off the loan. We =
returned to Dahwye in the mid-1960s. I was born in 1963.

Over the next 40 years, my parents developed Dahwye and later an =
adjoining property, Braidjule Farm, into fully irrigable units farming =
tobacco, maize, wheat and cattle. A game-farming operation on the =
marginal parts of the farm resulted in massive herds of wildebeest, =
zebra, impala, eland and tsessebe. Excess animals were sold to expand =
the wildlife business countrywide. My father conducted more than three =
decades of pasture research work and perfected legume/grass pastures in =
the harsh wetlands, increasing carrying capacities twentyfold. For him, =
the farm was not his own, it was a heritage for us, and our children. =
Every cent was reinvested in dams, irrigation and development.

In 1999, Sara and I decided to build our home in the rocks of the Dahwye =
Game Park, not far from where we were married. The old farm cottage we =
had lived in was falling apart and we decided to try to develop the =
wildlife and tourism potential of this piece of the farm by building a =
guest lodge and launching a safari operation. It was not to be. Soon =
after our magnificent home was complete, Oscar's long illness disrupted =
our plans. The land invasions put an end to them.

Our last day on the farm was a nightmare of chaos. We still had tons of =
household goods and machinery to move. Early in the day a mob of Zanu-PF =
youth and settlers illegally broke through the homestead fence to erect =
a flag near the lorry we were packing up. The police were called in and =
the mob was dispersed as far as the gates of the security fence, where =
the police officer advised that they should watch us in case we tried to =
steal anything. (Once a farmer has received a Section 8 - a final notice =
to quit farming - he may not remove certain assets from the farm.) There =
they lit fires and hacked the word "Zimbabwe" into an old msasa tree =
standing at the gate. The waiting press people were made unwelcome by =
the police.

During our last drive around Dahwye, my father said it looked as empty =
of wildlife as when he had first seen it. As we stopped to open a gate, =
I collected a bag of soil to take to Cape Town when we leave. As my =
father watched me, tears rolled down his face.

Finally, we paid off the staff and at my father's request bowed our =
heads in a prayer of thanks for the long years we had lived and worked =
together. We had left the workers some cattle and hardware to assist in =
their new lives. My mother sobbed and tears burned in my eyes as we said =
goodbye to these people we had worked with for so long, and left them to =
their fate. Mum locked the house for the last time. At last, our final =
convoy of four vehicles left the rubbish-strewn thatched house that had =
been a family home for 46 years. We drove towards the gate. The mob =
locked the gate as we approached. Sensing a bad situation my father, in =
the lead vehicle, did not hesitate; he revved the engine and smashed =
through the gate.

And so we left Dahwye, without looking back, our beloved farm empty now =
of cattle, game and equipment, in parts burned out and already derelict. =
Alive only with the sound of axes and dogs. Irrigable land liesfallow, =
the dams stand full of water and soon the spectre of hunger will stalk =
the empty fields, as settlers dig for mice beneath the weeds. The night =
we left the main pump for the housing area was stolen, and the mob broke =
into my studio and office and my parents' home, which I hear is to =
become a beer hall. The Dahwye we have known and loved is dead.

Many impressions come to mind as I try to recall the events of the past =
two-and-a-half years. First, I recall my son Oscar's memorial service, =
held at the same rock altar in the game park where Sara and I were =
married and where our children were christened. It is a naturally sacred =
place. As the service began two fish eagles appeared overhead, circling =
and ululating their haunting cry, witnessed by the 250 people gathered =
below.

By April this year, resettlement pressure on Dahwye was growing. Zanu-PF =
youth who could not be paid for their work during the presidential =
election were allocated our farm instead. The youth base commander began =
to build his hut at the rock altar. Our workers were appalled at an act =
so sacrilegious to traditional culture that they appealed to him to =
stop.

But this was clearly a psychological strategy designed to cause us =
maximum pain. For the next three months Sara and the children would have =
to go, daily, past this obscenity on their way to school. Huts =
multiplied across the game park.

We watched our game in despair, wandering amid the chaotic =
resettlements, surrounded by dogs, people, huts and fires. Pillars of =
light rose into the night sky from the fires started by the settlers. =
Entire segments of the country were consumed in an orgy of burning.

By a small miracle we obtained a game capture permit from the =
authorities. In a dramatic operation, over five weeks, we captured, =
saved and sold about 180 tsessebe, 75 zebra, 60 wildebeest, three eland, =
85 impala and 12 ostriches. We had already lost animals to poaching and =
I am convinced that many of the settlers in our game park came with meat =
in mind.

Our children attended Barwick Primary School, not far from our farm. =
Teachers there have described the deep trauma that they have observed in =
farmers' children who, over the past two years, have been silent victims =
of the baying mobs and the daily humiliations their families have =
endured on the farms. The ever-present anxiety they observe in their =
parents is silently taken on board. I have often seen our own children =
trying to work out ways to protect us from the daily dramas. During the =
weekends and holidays, security briefings on the farm radios do not =
allay their fears. When things have been bad children have expressed =
fear at returning to boarding school as they have to leave their parents =
alone on the farms.

There have been times during this ordeal that have been worse than =
others. When farms were being burned and looted in the nearby districts =
of Chinhoyi, Mhangura, Doma and Hwedza, we waited, expecting the worst. =
Some members of our family were trapped in their home, unable to escape =
as their neighbours were being ransacked. Packed suitcases and food =
rations stood in the hallway at all times, in preparation for a hurried =
exit. The house was emptied long ago of sentimental objects and =
photographs. As a community we tried to plan for worst-case scenarios - =
for example, if violence had erupted after the presidential election. =
Community plans for the evacuation of schools were, and still are, =
realities that those in farming areas face on their own.

From the ashes of this situation we have managed to save one thing. =
Before Oscar died, we planted a little Christmas tree that we had bought =
for him in Cape Town during his hospitalisation. The day before we left =
the farm, we dug up the tree and replanted it beside the children's ward =
of St Anne's Hospital, Harare, where the nuns (who remember Oscar from =
his stay there) have decided that it will be decorated each Christmas, =
and that from now on it will be called Oscar's Tree.

It is hard to describe the courage I have witnessed in my own family. My =
dad and mum, 73 and 64 respectively, humorous even amid the destruction =
of all they have loved and worked for, battling to finish the job of =
packing up their home and farm. Sara, my wife, determined even under =
these adverse circumstances to raise money for the Red Cross Children's =
Hospital, which looked after Oscar. She trained for the London Marathon =
on farm roads throughout the mayhem, ran the marathon and raised =
=A37,000 for the hospital. My daughter Megan, who is 11 years old, a =
rock for all of us, always smiling and unfazed. My five-year-old son =
Ben, who cried often for the loss of his beloved farm, decided that we =
should make crosses and scatter them around the farm and throughout our =
house to protect it in our absence. Madeleine, who is six months old, is =
one of the few people in Zimbabwe, oblivious to its woes, who has smiled =
through it all.

The unreported daily acts of courage and integrity by farmers in this =
impossible time must be mentioned. Their lonely vigils against the =
forces of intimidation have been humbling to observe. One day, I hope it =
will be recognised and saluted.

Even now, impossible labour laws and propaganda have in some situations =
turned the labourers against them. Farmers are barricaded into their =
homes by labourers demanding pay and gratuities few can afford. In the =
past two years, I have seen young men take on the visage of battle-weary =
soldiers, with lined faces and grey hair, as they strive to protect =
family, friends and farm workers who were defenceless but for their =
initiative. I have seen their desperation as the authorities and =
so-called new landlords have prevented them from moving their own =
equipment, livestock and household goods from their farms, which have =
been seized. I was told, categorically, by a war veteran leader in front =
of a mob of 200 people, that we would not move one thing off our farm. =
Fortunately, he failed.

Now that we are in Harare, and off the farm, there is time to try to =
analyse what we have been through. We are sharing a house with another =
displaced family, the Mitchells from Beitbridge in the far south of the =
country. Billy's father collapsed and died from a heart attack soon =
after they received government papers of acquisition earlier this year.

One thing I have learnt, as we try to make sense of these terrible =
events, is that it is impossible to judge any farmer or farming =
community by the course of action they have followed. Each farm and =
farmer has faced a unique circumstance. All have fought lonely battles =
against overwhelming odds, outgunned by the full force of state =
machinery.

We don't want sympathy. Many farm workers, rural black people and =
opposition supporters have faced worse. Some of us can move from here. =
I, at least, have another trade, as a wildlife painter. Many farmers =
have no other options.

The government has, by its own definition, attempted to conduct an =
ethnic cleansing of the farmland. White farmers, by nature of their =
race, have been targeted for displacement, en masse, at a time of =
fast-approaching and unparalleled starvation. Why? Why, 20 years into =
Zimbabwe's nationhood, this sudden assault? The answer lies, of course, =
in two bloody and farcical elections, the results of which have failed =
to impress the world.

No one disputes the need for viable, transparent land reform, although =
it's significant to note that about 60 per cent of white-owned farms =
were purchased after independence, under Zimbabwean law.

The parallels between watching Oscar die from cancer and our beloved =
Dahwye's slow destruction are profound. The grief process of watching =
that which you love slowly destroyed is the same. My soul will always be =
in Dahwye. It holds my earliest memories and those of my children - and =
no one, by decree or destruction, can ever take that away.=20

------=_NextPart_000_0018_01C24AE1.1B1EDE20--

------------------------------

Date: Sat, 24 Aug 2002 12:48:17 -0400
To: jfdewet@intekom.co.za ("Kobus de Wet"), krnet@mailinglists.org,
        liezll@emtelle.com ("Liezl LaidLaw"),
        c_de_wet@wanadoo.nl ("Carine&Martijn")
From: flyKRS@netscape.net (Mr. Bryce Guenther)
Subject: RE: KR> The Death of a Dream
Message-ID: <0FCE6CEC.1F8E459D.0006291F@netscape.net>

The Blacks in the United States are doing the same damn thing. It doesn't have to do with racism its "survival" tatics of people taking what other people have, the Catholic's all over the world have been exploiting nations the same way. The only way to change them is to covert them through Jesus Christ.

"Kobus de Wet"  wrote:

>
>
>
>The Death of a Dream
>
>
>
>
>
>This story was sent ot me by a friend in Zimbabwe - Larry Norton is a world renowned wildlife artist - this is his story
>
>
>The death of a dream: One Zimbabwean farmer's story
>For more than four decades, Larry Norton and his family farmed the same stretch of land in northern Zimbabwe - until last week. Here, he tells the devastating story of the pressures that forced him to leave
>15 August 2002
>I sit in a storage shed in Harare, surrounded by the chaotic elements of our life and home and our piles of possessions, and try to reflect on the past few days. Last Thursday, 8 August 2002, we evacuated our farm - Dahwye - in the Mvurwi region of Mashonaland in north-east Zimbabwe, about 100km from Harare, abandoning the home in which three generations of our family had lived for almost half a century.
>
>After two years of mayhem, we could not go on. The government-sponsored land invasions had begun in March 2000, shortly before our 14-month-old son Oscar died from cancer. We were unable to spend his last days on the farm because of the trouble. He died in an apartment in Harare surrounded by refugee farmers from Macheke, 75km to the east of the capital, where in April that year David Stevens, a supporter of the main opposition party, the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC), was the first white farmer to be killed.
>
>Since that time we have lived through the unparalleled destruction of a country and economy, under the corrupt and dictatorial rule of President Robert Mugabe and his Zanu-PF party. Our farm has been a microcosm of the battlefield.
>
>My mother and father came north from South Africa in the 1950s. They worked as managers on various farms and borrowed money to purchase Dahwye in 1957. They nearly went broke, and for a time my father lived in a tent made from fertiliser bags while he opened up a tobacco farm in virgin bush. It was in an area described on the map as "Terra Incognita", but he made enough money there to pay off the loan. We returned to Dahwye in the mid-1960s. I was born in 1963.
>
>Over the next 40 years, my parents developed Dahwye and later an adjoining property, Braidjule Farm, into fully irrigable units farming tobacco, maize, wheat and cattle. A game-farming operation on the marginal parts of the farm resulted in massive herds of wildebeest, zebra, impala, eland and tsessebe. Excess animals were sold to expand the wildlife business countrywide. My father conducted more than three decades of pasture research work and perfected legume/grass pastures in the harsh wetlands, increasing carrying capacities twentyfold. For him, the farm was not his own, it was a heritage for us, and our children. Every cent was reinvested in dams, irrigation and development.
>
>In 1999, Sara and I decided to build our home in the rocks of the Dahwye Game Park, not far from where we were married. The old farm cottage we had lived in was falling apart and we decided to try to develop the wildlife and tourism potential of this piece of the farm by building a guest lodge and launching a safari operation. It was not to be. Soon after our magnificent home was complete, Oscar's long illness disrupted our plans. The land invasions put an end to them.
>
>Our last day on the farm was a nightmare of chaos. We still had tons of household goods and machinery to move. Early in the day a mob of Zanu-PF youth and settlers illegally broke through the homestead fence to erect a flag near the lorry we were packing up. The police were called in and the mob was dispersed as far as the gates of the security fence, where the police officer advised that they should watch us in case we tried to steal anything. (Once a farmer has received a Section 8 - a final notice to quit farming - he may not remove certain assets from the farm.) There they lit fires and hacked the word "Zimbabwe" into an old msasa tree standing at the gate. The waiting press people were made unwelcome by the police.
>
>During our last drive around Dahwye, my father said it looked as empty of wildlife as when he had first seen it. As we stopped to open a gate, I collected a bag of soil to take to Cape Town when we leave. As my father watched me, tears rolled down his face.
>
>Finally, we paid off the staff and at my father's request bowed our heads in a prayer of thanks for the long years we had lived and worked together. We had left the workers some cattle and hardware to assist in their new lives. My mother sobbed and tears burned in my eyes as we said goodbye to these people we had worked with for so long, and left them to their fate. Mum locked the house for the last time. At last, our final convoy of four vehicles left the rubbish-strewn thatched house that had been a family home for 46 years. We drove towards the gate. The mob locked the gate as we approached. Sensing a bad situation my father, in the lead vehicle, did not hesitate; he revved the engine and smashed through the gate.
>
>And so we left Dahwye, without looking back, our beloved farm empty now of cattle, game and equipment, in parts burned out and already derelict. Alive only with the sound of axes and dogs. Irrigable land liesfallow, the dams stand full of water and soon the spectre of hunger will stalk the empty fields, as settlers dig for mice beneath the weeds. The night we left the main pump for the housing area was stolen, and the mob broke into my studio and office and my parents' home, which I hear is to become a beer hall. The Dahwye we have known and loved is dead.
>
>Many impressions come to mind as I try to recall the events of the past two-and-a-half years. First, I recall my son Oscar's memorial service, held at the same rock altar in the game park where Sara and I were married and where our children were christened. It is a naturally sacred place. As the service began two fish eagles appeared overhead, circling and ululating their haunting cry, witnessed by the 250 people gathered below.
>
>By April this year, resettlement pressure on Dahwye was growing. Zanu-PF youth who could not be paid for their work during the presidential election were allocated our farm instead. The youth base commander began to build his hut at the rock altar. Our workers were appalled at an act so sacrilegious to traditional culture that they appealed to him to stop.
>
>But this was clearly a psychological strategy designed to cause us maximum pain. For the next three months Sara and the children would have to go, daily, past this obscenity on their way to school. Huts multiplied across the game park.
>
>We watched our game in despair, wandering amid the chaotic resettlements, surrounded by dogs, people, huts and fires. Pillars of light rose into the night sky from the fires started by the settlers. Entire segments of the country were consumed in an orgy of burning.
>
>By a small miracle we obtained a game capture permit from the authorities. In a dramatic operation, over five weeks, we captured, saved and sold about 180 tsessebe, 75 zebra, 60 wildebeest, three eland, 85 impala and 12 ostriches. We had already lost animals to poaching and I am convinced that many of the settlers in our game park came with meat in mind.
>
>Our children attended Barwick Primary School, not far from our farm. Teachers there have described the deep trauma that they have observed in farmers' children who, over the past two years, have been silent victims of the baying mobs and the daily humiliations their families have endured on the farms. The ever-present anxiety they observe in their parents is silently taken on board. I have often seen our own children trying to work out ways to protect us from the daily dramas. During the weekends and holidays, security briefings on the farm radios do not allay their fears. When things have been bad children have expressed fear at returning to boarding school as they have to leave their parents alone on the farms.
>
>There have been times during this ordeal that have been worse than others. When farms were being burned and looted in the nearby districts of Chinhoyi, Mhangura, Doma and Hwedza, we waited, expecting the worst. Some members of our family were trapped in their home, unable to escape as their neighbours were being ransacked. Packed suitcases and food rations stood in the hallway at all times, in preparation for a hurried exit. The house was emptied long ago of sentimental objects and photographs. As a community we tried to plan for worst-case scenarios - for example, if violence had erupted after the presidential election. Community plans for the evacuation of schools were, and still are, realities that those in farming areas face on their own.
>
>From the ashes of this situation we have managed to save one thing. Before Oscar died, we planted a little Christmas tree that we had bought for him in Cape Town during his hospitalisation. The day before we left the farm, we dug up the tree and replanted it beside the children's ward of St Anne's Hospital, Harare, where the nuns (who remember Oscar from his stay there) have decided that it will be decorated each Christmas, and that from now on it will be called Oscar's Tree.
>
>It is hard to describe the courage I have witnessed in my own family. My dad and mum, 73 and 64 respectively, humorous even amid the destruction of all they have loved and worked for, battling to finish the job of packing up their home and farm. Sara, my wife, determined even under these adverse circumstances to raise money for the Red Cross Children's Hospital, which looked after Oscar. She trained for the London Marathon on farm roads throughout the mayhem, ran the marathon and raised £7,000 for the hospital. My daughter Megan, who is 11 years old, a rock for all of us, always smiling and unfazed. My five-year-old son Ben, who cried often for the loss of his beloved farm, decided that we should make crosses and scatter them around the farm and throughout our house to protect it in our absence. Madeleine, who is six months old, is one of the few people in Zimbabwe, oblivious to its woes, who has smiled through it all.
>
>The unreported daily acts of courage and integrity by farmers in this impossible time must be mentioned. Their lonely vigils against the forces of intimidation have been humbling to observe. One day, I hope it will be recognised and saluted.
>
>Even now, impossible labour laws and propaganda have in some situations turned the labourers against them. Farmers are barricaded into their homes by labourers demanding pay and gratuities few can afford. In the past two years, I have seen young men take on the visage of battle-weary soldiers, with lined faces and grey hair, as they strive to protect family, friends and farm workers who were defenceless but for their initiative. I have seen their desperation as the authorities and so-called new landlords have prevented them from moving their own equipment, livestock and household goods from their farms, which have been seized. I was told, categorically, by a war veteran leader in front of a mob of 200 people, that we would not move one thing off our farm. Fortunately, he failed.
>
>Now that we are in Harare, and off the farm, there is time to try to analyse what we have been through. We are sharing a house with another displaced family, the Mitchells from Beitbridge in the far south of the country. Billy's father collapsed and died from a heart attack soon after they received government papers of acquisition earlier this year.
>
>One thing I have learnt, as we try to make sense of these terrible events, is that it is impossible to judge any farmer or farming community by the course of action they have followed. Each farm and farmer has faced a unique circumstance. All have fought lonely battles against overwhelming odds, outgunned by the full force of state machinery.
>
>We don't want sympathy. Many farm workers, rural black people and opposition supporters have faced worse. Some of us can move from here. I, at least, have another trade, as a wildlife painter. Many farmers have no other options.
>
>The government has, by its own definition, attempted to conduct an ethnic cleansing of the farmland. White farmers, by nature of their race, have been targeted for displacement, en masse, at a time of fast-approaching and unparalleled starvation. Why? Why, 20 years into Zimbabwe's nationhood, this sudden assault? The answer lies, of course, in two bloody and farcical elections, the results of which have failed to impress the world.
>
>No one disputes the need for viable, transparent land reform, although it's significant to note that about 60 per cent of white-owned farms were purchased after independence, under Zimbabwean law.
>
>The parallels between watching Oscar die from cancer and our beloved Dahwye's slow destruction are profound. The grief process of watching that which you love slowly destroyed is the same. My soul will always be in Dahwye. It holds my earliest memories and those of my children - and no one, by decree or destruction, can ever take that away.
>
>

-- 
Flying is Fun and a Thrill that nearly nothing else can compare.

__________________________________________________________________
Your favorite stores, helpful shopping tools and great gift ideas. Experience the convenience of buying online with Shop@Netscape! http://shopnow.netscape.com/

Get your own FREE, personal Netscape Mail account today at http://webmail.netscape.com/

------------------------------

Date: Sat, 24 Aug 2002 11:02:00 -0700
To: "Mr. Bryce Guenther" ,
	"\"Kobus de Wet\"" ,
	,
	"\"Liezl LaidLaw\"" ,
	"\"Carine&Martijn\"" 
From: "bstarrs" 
Subject: Re: KR> The Death of a Dream
Message-ID: <00b801c24b98$58bba580$9200a8c0@bstarrs>

Bryce I'm Catholic and I don't appreciate your astupid anti Catholic
remarks. Keep your crap off the KR net. Bill Starrs
----- Original Message -----
From: "Mr. Bryce Guenther" 
To: ""Kobus de Wet"" ; ;
""Liezl LaidLaw"" ; ""Carine&Martijn""

Sent: Saturday, August 24, 2002 9:48 AM
Subject: RE: KR> The Death of a Dream

> The Blacks in the United States are doing the same damn thing. It doesn't
have to do with racism its "survival" tatics of people taking what other
people have, the Catholic's all over the world have been exploiting nations
the same way. The only way to change them is to covert them through Jesus
Christ.
>
> "Kobus de Wet"  wrote:
>
> >
> >
> >
> >The Death of a Dream
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >This story was sent ot me by a friend in Zimbabwe - Larry Norton is a
world renowned wildlife artist - this is his story
> >
> >
> >The death of a dream: One Zimbabwean farmer's story
> >For more than four decades, Larry Norton and his family farmed the same
stretch of land in northern Zimbabwe - until last week. Here, he tells the
devastating story of the pressures that forced him to leave
> >15 August 2002
> >I sit in a storage shed in Harare, surrounded by the chaotic elements of
our life and home and our piles of possessions, and try to reflect on the
past few days. Last Thursday, 8 August 2002, we evacuated our farm -
Dahwye - in the Mvurwi region of Mashonaland in north-east Zimbabwe, about
100km from Harare, abandoning the home in which three generations of our
family had lived for almost half a century.
> >
> >After two years of mayhem, we could not go on. The government-sponsored
land invasions had begun in March 2000, shortly before our 14-month-old son
Oscar died from cancer. We were unable to spend his last days on the farm
because of the trouble. He died in an apartment in Harare surrounded by
refugee farmers from Macheke, 75km to the east of the capital, where in
April that year David Stevens, a supporter of the main opposition party, the
Movement for Democratic Change (MDC), was the first white farmer to be
killed.
> >
> >Since that time we have lived through the unparalleled destruction of a
country and economy, under the corrupt and dictatorial rule of President
Robert Mugabe and his Zanu-PF party. Our farm has been a microcosm of the
battlefield.
> >
> >My mother and father came north from South Africa in the 1950s. They
worked as managers on various farms and borrowed money to purchase Dahwye in
1957. They nearly went broke, and for a time my father lived in a tent made
from fertiliser bags while he opened up a tobacco farm in virgin bush. It
was in an area described on the map as "Terra Incognita", but he made enough
money there to pay off the loan. We returned to Dahwye in the mid-1960s. I
was born in 1963.
> >
> >Over the next 40 years, my parents developed Dahwye and later an
adjoining property, Braidjule Farm, into fully irrigable units farming
tobacco, maize, wheat and cattle. A game-farming operation on the marginal
parts of the farm resulted in massive herds of wildebeest, zebra, impala,
eland and tsessebe. Excess animals were sold to expand the wildlife business
countrywide. My father conducted more than three decades of pasture research
work and perfected legume/grass pastures in the harsh wetlands, increasing
carrying capacities twentyfold. For him, the farm was not his own, it was a
heritage for us, and our children. Every cent was reinvested in dams,
irrigation and development.
> >
> >In 1999, Sara and I decided to build our home in the rocks of the Dahwye
Game Park, not far from where we were married. The old farm cottage we had
lived in was falling apart and we decided to try to develop the wildlife and
tourism potential of this piece of the farm by building a guest lodge and
launching a safari operation. It was not to be. Soon after our magnificent
home was complete, Oscar's long illness disrupted our plans. The land
invasions put an end to them.
> >
> >Our last day on the farm was a nightmare of chaos. We still had tons of
household goods and machinery to move. Early in the day a mob of Zanu-PF
youth and settlers illegally broke through the homestead fence to erect a
flag near the lorry we were packing up. The police were called in and the
mob was dispersed as far as the gates of the security fence, where the
police officer advised that they should watch us in case we tried to steal
anything. (Once a farmer has received a Section 8 - a final notice to quit
farming - he may not remove certain assets from the farm.) There they lit
fires and hacked the word "Zimbabwe" into an old msasa tree standing at the
gate. The waiting press people were made unwelcome by the police.
> >
> >During our last drive around Dahwye, my father said it looked as empty of
wildlife as when he had first seen it. As we stopped to open a gate, I
collected a bag of soil to take to Cape Town when we leave. As my father
watched me, tears rolled down his face.
> >
> >Finally, we paid off the staff and at my father's request bowed our heads
in a prayer of thanks for the long years we had lived and worked together.
We had left the workers some cattle and hardware to assist in their new
lives. My mother sobbed and tears burned in my eyes as we said goodbye to
these people we had worked with for so long, and left them to their fate.
Mum locked the house for the last time. At last, our final convoy of four
vehicles left the rubbish-strewn thatched house that had been a family home
for 46 years. We drove towards the gate. The mob locked the gate as we
approached. Sensing a bad situation my father, in the lead vehicle, did not
hesitate; he revved the engine and smashed through the gate.
> >
> >And so we left Dahwye, without looking back, our beloved farm empty now
of cattle, game and equipment, in parts burned out and already derelict.
Alive only with the sound of axes and dogs. Irrigable land liesfallow, the
dams stand full of water and soon the spectre of hunger will stalk the empty
fields, as settlers dig for mice beneath the weeds. The night we left the
main pump for the housing area was stolen, and the mob broke into my studio
and office and my parents' home, which I hear is to become a beer hall. The
Dahwye we have known and loved is dead.
> >
> >Many impressions come to mind as I try to recall the events of the past
two-and-a-half years. First, I recall my son Oscar's memorial service, held
at the same rock altar in the game park where Sara and I were married and
where our children were christened. It is a naturally sacred place. As the
service began two fish eagles appeared overhead, circling and ululating
their haunting cry, witnessed by the 250 people gathered below.
> >
> >By April this year, resettlement pressure on Dahwye was growing. Zanu-PF
youth who could not be paid for their work during the presidential election
were allocated our farm instead. The youth base commander began to build his
hut at the rock altar. Our workers were appalled at an act so sacrilegious
to traditional culture that they appealed to him to stop.
> >
> >But this was clearly a psychological strategy designed to cause us
maximum pain. For the next three months Sara and the children would have to
go, daily, past this obscenity on their way to school. Huts multiplied
across the game park.
> >
> >We watched our game in despair, wandering amid the chaotic resettlements,
surrounded by dogs, people, huts and fires. Pillars of light rose into the
night sky from the fires started by the settlers. Entire segments of the
country were consumed in an orgy of burning.
> >
> >By a small miracle we obtained a game capture permit from the
authorities. In a dramatic operation, over five weeks, we captured, saved
and sold about 180 tsessebe, 75 zebra, 60 wildebeest, three eland, 85 impala
and 12 ostriches. We had already lost animals to poaching and I am convinced
that many of the settlers in our game park came with meat in mind.
> >
> >Our children attended Barwick Primary School, not far from our farm.
Teachers there have described the deep trauma that they have observed in
farmers' children who, over the past two years, have been silent victims of
the baying mobs and the daily humiliations their families have endured on
the farms. The ever-present anxiety they observe in their parents is
silently taken on board. I have often seen our own children trying to work
out ways to protect us from the daily dramas. During the weekends and
holidays, security briefings on the farm radios do not allay their fears.
When things have been bad children have expressed fear at returning to
boarding school as they have to leave their parents alone on the farms.
> >
> >There have been times during this ordeal that have been worse than
others. When farms were being burned and looted in the nearby districts of
Chinhoyi, Mhangura, Doma and Hwedza, we waited, expecting the worst. Some
members of our family were trapped in their home, unable to escape as their
neighbours were being ransacked. Packed suitcases and food rations stood in
the hallway at all times, in preparation for a hurried exit. The house was
emptied long ago of sentimental objects and photographs. As a community we
tried to plan for worst-case scenarios - for example, if violence had
erupted after the presidential election. Community plans for the evacuation
of schools were, and still are, realities that those in farming areas face
on their own.
> >
> >From the ashes of this situation we have managed to save one thing.
Before Oscar died, we planted a little Christmas tree that we had bought for
him in Cape Town during his hospitalisation. The day before we left the
farm, we dug up the tree and replanted it beside the children's ward of St
Anne's Hospital, Harare, where the nuns (who remember Oscar from his stay
there) have decided that it will be decorated each Christmas, and that from
now on it will be called Oscar's Tree.
> >
> >It is hard to describe the courage I have witnessed in my own family. My
dad and mum, 73 and 64 respectively, humorous even amid the destruction of
all they have loved and worked for, battling to finish the job of packing up
their home and farm. Sara, my wife, determined even under these adverse
circumstances to raise money for the Red Cross Children's Hospital, which
looked after Oscar. She trained for the London Marathon on farm roads
throughout the mayhem, ran the marathon and raised £7,000 for the hospital.
My daughter Megan, who is 11 years old, a rock for all of us, always smiling
and unfazed. My five-year-old son Ben, who cried often for the loss of his
beloved farm, decided that we should make crosses and scatter them around
the farm and throughout our house to protect it in our absence. Madeleine,
who is six months old, is one of the few people in Zimbabwe, oblivious to
its woes, who has smiled through it all.
> >
> >The unreported daily acts of courage and integrity by farmers in this
impossible time must be mentioned. Their lonely vigils against the forces of
intimidation have been humbling to observe. One day, I hope it will be
recognised and saluted.
> >
> >Even now, impossible labour laws and propaganda have in some situations
turned the labourers against them. Farmers are barricaded into their homes
by labourers demanding pay and gratuities few can afford. In the past two
years, I have seen young men take on the visage of battle-weary soldiers,
with lined faces and grey hair, as they strive to protect family, friends
and farm workers who were defenceless but for their initiative. I have seen
their desperation as the authorities and so-called new landlords have
prevented them from moving their own equipment, livestock and household
goods from their farms, which have been seized. I was told, categorically,
by a war veteran leader in front of a mob of 200 people, that we would not
move one thing off our farm. Fortunately, he failed.
> >
> >Now that we are in Harare, and off the farm, there is time to try to
analyse what we have been through. We are sharing a house with another
displaced family, the Mitchells from Beitbridge in the far south of the
country. Billy's father collapsed and died from a heart attack soon after
they received government papers of acquisition earlier this year.
> >
> >One thing I have learnt, as we try to make sense of these terrible
events, is that it is impossible to judge any farmer or farming community by
the course of action they have followed. Each farm and farmer has faced a
unique circumstance. All have fought lonely battles against overwhelming
odds, outgunned by the full force of state machinery.
> >
> >We don't want sympathy. Many farm workers, rural black people and
opposition supporters have faced worse. Some of us can move from here. I, at
least, have another trade, as a wildlife painter. Many farmers have no other
options.
> >
> >The government has, by its own definition, attempted to conduct an ethnic
cleansing of the farmland. White farmers, by nature of their race, have been
targeted for displacement, en masse, at a time of fast-approaching and
unparalleled starvation. Why? Why, 20 years into Zimbabwe's nationhood, this
sudden assault? The answer lies, of course, in two bloody and farcical
elections, the results of which have failed to impress the world.
> >
> >No one disputes the need for viable, transparent land reform, although
it's significant to note that about 60 per cent of white-owned farms were
purchased after independence, under Zimbabwean law.
> >
> >The parallels between watching Oscar die from cancer and our beloved
Dahwye's slow destruction are profound. The grief process of watching that
which you love slowly destroyed is the same. My soul will always be in
Dahwye. It holds my earliest memories and those of my children - and no one,
by decree or destruction, can ever take that away.
> >
> >
>
>
> --
> Flying is Fun and a Thrill that nearly nothing else can compare.
>
>
>
> __________________________________________________________________
> Your favorite stores, helpful shopping tools and great gift ideas.
Experience the convenience of buying online with Shop@Netscape!
http://shopnow.netscape.com/
>
> Get your own FREE, personal Netscape Mail account today at
http://webmail.netscape.com/
>
>
> ---------------------------------------------------------------------
> To post to the list, email: krnet@mailinglists.org , NOT "reply all"
>
> To UNsubscribe, e-mail: krnet-unsubscribe@mailinglists.org
> For additional commands, e-mail: krnet-help@mailinglists.org
>
> See the KRNet archives at http://www.maddyhome.com/krsrch/index.jsp
> or http://www.bouyea.net/ for the Word files
>
>

------------------------------

Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 18:00:45 -0500
To: "KR-Net" 
From: "Mark Jones" 
Subject: Fw: KR2 in Sydney
Message-ID: <000e01c24af8$ea2a9800$c5991f41@wi.rr.com>

------=_NextPart_000_000B_01C24ACF.0100A3A0
Content-Type: text/plain;
	charset="iso-8859-1"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable

Hello All,
I received this e-mail from Colin and Nadine today. It is an update on =
their Around The World In A KR2 trip.

Mark Jones (N886MJ)
Wales, WI  USA=20
E-mail me at flykr2s@wi.rr.com
Visit my KR-2S CorvAIRCRAFT web site at  =20
http://mywebpage.netscape.com/n886mj/homepage.html

----- Original Message -----=20
From: Colin Hales=20
Sent: Friday, August 23, 2002 8:00 AM
Subject: KR2 in Sydney

G'Day people,
Finally some news from inside Australia! Yes, we are here! Only 2 years =
and 229 days behind our first original scheduled day of arrival, but on =
the 16th August we landed in Sydney in our KR2.
The whole journey has turned into a bit of an epic story, but with a =
very happy ending. We flew into Sydney in formation with an RV4 (piloted =
by Jon Johanson, a famous Australian pilot and record holder who has =
flown his aircraft round the world 3 times in different directions!) and =
a Rebel piloted by Rick Harper, another great Aussie gent and President =
of the chapter 1 group of the Sports Aircraft Association of Australia.
We were followed by 4 chase helicopters of the Australian TV stations, =
which was fun as well and we were given another fantastic present by the =
Air Traffic Controllers as Sydney Int'l airport was closed to all =
traffic for a few moments, to let us fly above the Harbour Bridge and =
the Opera House (thank you again Jon!) before crossing their runways on =
our way in to Bankstown the General Aviation airport of Sydney.=20
Our KR2 is now the smallest aircraft to have flown from the UK to =
Australia. Needless to say that we are HAPPY, and very proud of our =
homebuilt aircraft... and have turned horribly bigheaded. Even Fredypig =
our mascot is showing off now since he was pictured on channel 4,7,9 and =
ABC news at 7 and 9 o'clock..=20
So we will stay a month or two here in Australia to try to get back to =
normal, before setting off again to New-Zealand (we are not quite sure =
yet about means of transport there...) and later onto the States.
Everything is still in a bit of a whirl at the moment but we will be in =
touch again later when we have a little more time.
Our best regards and thanks to all who help us reach this far and =
achieve what we have. There is still a lot of work still to do, and lots =
of you to thank personally but be assured we are very happy to be able =
to do it! =20

Thanks again and best regards,=20
Colin and Nadine
http://fly.to/worldtour

-------------------------------------------------------------------------=
-------
Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: Click Here

------=_NextPart_000_000B_01C24ACF.0100A3A0--

------------------------------

Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 19:15:16 -0500
To: "KRNET" 
From: larry flesner 
Subject: Baffling seal material
Message-Id: <3.0.6.32.20020823191516.0096b370@mail.midwest.net>

> Jim Faughn,
 SNIP++++++++++++++++++++++++= Also, you had what
>appeared to be silicone/glass fiber material for seals in your engine
>baffling.   That also looked like it has been very serviceable.
>Ron Freiberger...
SNIP++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Netters,

I was waiting for Jim's reply before jumping in on the baffle seal material.
I'll add to what Jim said with some more detailed "how to" info.

I got the idea of building the baffle seals from Jim or someone at one
of the Gatherings several years back.  Wicks sells the high temp, 
fiberglass re-inforced baffling material for about $4.95 per foot.
You can build it for $2.00 per foot or less.  You could probably cut
that to less than $1.00 a foot if you just cut strips from glass cloth.

I used 2 inch wide fiberglass tape.  You can use any size you think will
work best for you.  I made 3 foot lengths as that was the size of my 
work table.  Start by laying out some plastic material on the work 
surface.  Lay out one strip of fiberglass and squeege in some high
temp RTV.  Not too thick, just coat the glass well.  Add the next
layer of glass, squeege in the RTV and so on until you have the
thickness you want.  Four layers of glass is about right. When the
last layer of glass is coated,  flip it all over and coat the bottom
side.  I hung my material in a vertical position to cure so it would
cure nice and straight.  Trim the edges smooth with a scissor after 
it has cured.   I used about one tube of 500 degree RTV ( $8.95 ) and 
one roll of two inch tape ($15.00) to make about 12 feet of seal 
material for my 0-200.

Your results may vary. :-)

Larry Flesner
Carterville, Illinois, USA

------------------------------

Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 23:22:27 -0400
To: krnet 
From: Brian Kraut 
Subject: exhaust
Message-ID: <3D66FBF3.3080208@earthlink.net>

My exhaust has about had it.  Does anyone still make a tuned exhaust? 
 My old newsletters had the Stinger tuned exhaust, but I don't know if 
that is still around or if it ever did add any horsepower over any other 
exhaust.

------------------------------

Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 22:44:05 -0700
To: ,
	"krnet" 
From: "bstarrs" 
Subject: Re: KR> exhaust
Message-ID: <001f01c24b31$42df3400$9200a8c0@bstarrs>

My understanding is that the most effective exhaust   in terms of horse
power is straight out without any turns or bends that would empeed the out
ward flow of  fumes, and that the only down side to this is the noise level.
Is this correct?Bill Starrs
----- Original Message -----
From: "Brian Kraut" 
To: "krnet" 
Sent: Friday, August 23, 2002 8:22 PM
Subject: KR> exhaust

> My exhaust has about had it.  Does anyone still make a tuned exhaust?
>  My old newsletters had the Stinger tuned exhaust, but I don't know if
> that is still around or if it ever did add any horsepower over any other
> exhaust.
>
>
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Date: Sat, 24 Aug 2002 05:42:08 -0700
To: "KRNET" 
From: "Daniel Heath" 
Subject: Making your Baffling seal material - Re: Larry Fleshner.
Message-ID: 

I did the same thing on the Little Beast.  I got the tip from Bob Muse Sr.
I used fiberglass and regular clear silicone.  Another nice thing about
making these like this, is that you can make them in curves to match the
corners of the cowling.

See you in Red Oak.

Daniel R. Heath

See our KR2 at: http://kr-builder.org

See our EAA Chapter 242at: http://WWW.EAA242.ORG

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Date: Sat, 24 Aug 2002 05:54:14 -0700
To: "krnet" 
From: "Daniel Heath" 
Subject: The most effective exhaust
Message-ID: 

It depends a lot on your engine, however, my understanding of this is, that
for a slow turning engine, you should have a long exhaust.  This is
difficult to achieve in an airplane.  All pipes should be the same length.
I don't think that short straight pipes would work very well on a VW engine
as it does require a certain amount of back pressure.

Now.. That is everything that I think I know about exhausts.

See you in Red Oak.

Daniel R. Heath

See our KR2 at: http://kr-builder.org

See our EAA Chapter 242at: http://WWW.EAA242.ORG

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