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Ultracruiser Cross-Country

August 2011. I've been sorting out all the issues with the ultracruiser, mostly engine problems like oil leaks, cooling, fuel flow and some air-frame problems like elevator trim. The engine and air-frame now have about 5 total hours, which is incredibly young for an airplane. My last flight in the ultracruiser resulted in an engine failure because the ignition coil shook loose off the engine, and shorted, causing the engine to quit. Luckily I was about 1,500ft above the ground, and 3 miles from the airport, so I was able to glide in. 
It was time, however, to get the plane up to another airport where I could more easily work on the last remaining issues. The new airport was 1.5 hours north of Tracy, so I gathered all the courage and ambition I had, and decided to fly the plane there.
I added lock-nuts to the bolts that held the ignition coil to the engine, checked everything I could imagine, and fueled up to the brim. I took off from Tracy at about noon in calm winds, climbing to 2,500ft. Everything seemed to go pretty well on climb out. I leveled off for cruise at about 65-70mph and quickly passed the point where I could no longer glide back to Tracy should something go wrong. My attention turned to finding suitable emergency landing fields. I could hear and feel every little vibration of the engine, which seemed to threaten to quit at any moment. My battery voltage, and oil pressure (the most critical instruments) were stable, but I started noticed the oil temperature climbing. This has been a problem on previous flights, so I kept a close eye on it. At this point I was pretty busy between looking for emergency landing spots, trying to keep the light plane steady in the turbulence, and checking the engine gauges.
The terrain between the two airports is mostly agricultural, with lots of water from the San Joaquin river delta. A good landing spot is one that is smooth and open, but also important is how accessible it is. If I had to land somewhere that no one could get to me in case I was injured, or I had to walk 10 miles to get to someone, it would pretty much ruin my day. I was thinking about how I would tell my buddy Marc how to find me to pick me up... 'uh I'm near a river bend, west of I-5, in a plowed field....' Right, like that would narrow it down!
At this point, the oil temperature had climbed unacceptably high, so I tried reducing throttle and diving a bit to get more cooling air flow and less heat to dissipate. It helped somewhat, but any time I throttled back up to climb, the gauge threatened me with engine failure. I found that I could only keep enough throttle to barely chug along, while losing altitude. 
By this time, I estimated I was 40 minutes into my flight. Now I was trying to figure out where I was, since I had previously been so preoccupied with finding emergency landing fields and dealing with engine issues. I could barely make out some tall buildings in the haze, which I figured were downtown Sacramento. I then noticed a substantial quantity of oil on the right side of my windscreen. The oil temperature was higher than before (probably because there was so little oil in the engine to dissipate the heat), and there was even more oil on the left wing. I carefully watched the oil pressure gauge for signs of trouble. Within a few minutes, it showed itself loud and clear, as the needle started twitching, which is a good indication that the oil level was now insufficient to feed the oil pump, and an engine seizure was imminent. 
Right about that time, I noticed a small crop-duster runway paralleling the deep water channel a few miles ahead. I throttled back to conserve every bit of life I had left in the engine. I checked the water ripples on the channel to determine the wind direction, and cruised right in for a landing. 
My legs were shaking pretty badly as I unbuckled my harness and got out of the plane. Three men greeted me from inside the hangar where they were working on several of their huge biplane crop dusters. They were kind enough to listen to my troubles, and offered me a quart of oil, and cleaned off my oil soaked windscreen. I stayed long enough to gather myself and get my bearings. I was only 17 miles from where I was headed, and the fresh quart of oil in the engine was sure to get me there, even though my engine was spewing oil like a geyser. 
The rest of the flight was just about as terrifying as the beginning. In fact, when I finally landed, oil had run into the belly of the plane where I was sitting, and soaked the towel I was using as a seat cushion. The good news is that the plane flew great, but I think it is about time to tear apart the engine and re-build it.