Building Bluebird and CTQ2: A Lifelong Journey in Aviation

Thank you for asking about CTQ2.

I started my flying lessons in Tomahawk, Wisconsin while working for Owens Illinois Inc., a very large and vertically integrated glass container manufacturer at that time. My instructor, Ed Marquard, also worked at the mill with me. After about eight hours in his Piper Cub, we landed one day, and he got out and said, “go for it.” To my surprise, the plane leapt off the ground much quicker without his weight aboard.

Ed was already 65 years old then, in 1967, and held one of the earliest instructor licences in the U.S. He liked to say he had hauled that Cub out of the woods more than once, patched it up, and kept on flying. His advice was simple: “always try to go between the tree trunks — they’ll snag your wings and let you down alive.” It was the kind of wisdom you don’t forget.

After a while I had to stop lessons, as we needed money to build our first house. My wife designed it, even made a model, and we built much of it ourselves on a three-acre waterfront lot. Later, back at headquarters in Ohio, I started flying lessons again in a Cherokee, but once again had to quit for family priorities.

In 1970, I left OI Inc. and we moved to Stanstead, QC. We had also considered Homer, Alaska, with its rugged beauty and “can-do” spirit, but my wife felt Quebec was closer to family. That turned out to be the right choice.

A turning point came on December 31, 1980, when I bought a wrecked 1946 Aeronca Champ at Newport, VT airport for $3,000. The manager, Cecile Wright, agreed to coach me through rebuilding it and certifying it when complete. Handy with tools and eager to learn, I took responsibility for the work and for my own neck. When the project was done, I christened the plane Bluebird.

Flying Bluebird has given me immense joy, and more than a few scares, ever since. I’ve taken many passengers up to see our region’s patchwork of lakes, mountains, and valleys, stretching across the Canadian and U.S. border. Before the crossing became more complicated, I flew Bluebird to Oshkosh, Sun’n Fun, and numerous EAA gatherings across New England and Canada. A coast-to-coast flight across Canada was always a dream, though now at 85, it may remain one for later.

Because I couldn’t afford to keep my plane at Newport, and being a do-it-yourselfer, I decided to build my own airfield: CTQ2. Over about 15 years of bulldozer work, I carved out a 2,600-foot grass strip with good approaches on both 01 and 19. It took persistence, resourcefulness, and the support of family, but eventually it became a reality.

CTQ2 has become a community hub. Every September, we host an annual fly-in that draws aviators from near and far. This year will mark our 15th, on Saturday, September 13, 2025. There’s no landing or parking fee, and no insurance either, just a friendly gathering. For $25, guests can enjoy a burger, as well as all the sweet corn and fresh produce they can eat from our gardens and orchard. Some even come for a “fly-in U-Pic,” making the most of the peaceful ridgeline setting.

A few years ago, I also hosted winter fly-ins on the ice of Lake Memphremagog, where Canadian and U.S. planes could park on their respective sides of the border. Over time, pilots were even allowed to walk across, meet one another, and share lunch while admiring each other’s aircraft. It was a rare and memorable way to celebrate the bond between cross-border aviation communities.

Of course, today’s turbulent political climate with our neighbour to the south has made cross-border flying a bit more complicated. But experiences like those on Lake Memphremagog remind me that aviation can be a bridge. The friendships we’ve made in the air endure long after borders and politics shift.

I’ve often thought our two countries could learn from Europe’s Schengen model, which allows citizens to move freely across borders and has fostered stronger economies and friendships. Inspired by that idea, I registered a Vermont non-profit called the CANUSA PROJECT, INC., dedicated to exploring the possibility of easier travel and closer ties between Canada and the U.S. It’s just a seed of an idea, but like building CTQ2, it’s about having a vision and working toward it.

Looking ahead, I’m still tinkering with new ideas including an innovative eVTOL concept that I hope one day could carry people automatically for 500 miles or more. Who knows what the future of aviation will hold?

For me, aviation has always been about more than just airplanes. It’s about community, perseverance, and finding joy in creating something with your own hands, whether it’s rebuilding Bluebird or bulldozing a runway into shape. CTQ2 is proof of what can be built with vision, hard work, and a love for flight.

I look forward to welcoming fellow aviators again this September for our fly-in. If you’re looking for good food, good company, and the unique charm of a private ridge-top airfield, we’d be glad to see you.