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Welcome to the chaotic, thrilling world of the HF pileup. When a rare station or a Parks On The Air (POTA) activator goes on the air, dozens or even hundreds of operators might try to make contact at the exact same time. Working a pileup is an art that takes time to master. Whether you are the one calling CQ from a park in Nebraska or the one hunting a rare DX station, success relies on rhythm, frequency management, and a deep understanding of human behavior.

Here is a proper look at how a pileup appears on a modern display, followed by a complete guide on how to survive it.

A “pileup” on shortwave amateur radio frequencies. The main station is at the low frequency, and stays put. The hunters spread out, above, and call on a single frequency somewhere in the calling window of frequencies (I.e., up five to ten).

Over my decades of working Morse code (CW on amateur radio), I have learned a few critical things about how to navigate the chaotic, thrilling world of the HF pileup. When a rare station or a Parks On The Air (POTA) activator goes on the air, dozens or even hundreds of operators might try to make contact at the exact same time. Working a pileup is an art that takes time to master. Whether you are the one calling CQ from a park in Nebraska or the one hunting a rare DX station, success relies on rhythm, frequency management, and a deep understanding of human behavior.

One of the most important strategies is to determine the operating style of the DX station, specifically discerning how that operator scans the pileup for the next station to work. With modern waterfall displays, that process is MUCH easier. As an example, I worked the Temotu DXpedition (H40RH) that had just started a few hours prior to my attempt. I broke through with only five calls into the pileup, and it took me a mere 60 seconds to call and get an answer. Of course, I first listened and watched the waterfall for about five minutes to get a hang of the operating style of H40RH. This was on 10 Meters where 28.026 MHz was the DX frequency. We callers spread out five to 15 kHz UP in frequency from the DX station because we never want to cover up the DX station with our own signals. Even with a long carrier of intentional interference visible on the waterfall, the visual aid of the SDR made the catch possible. Temotu was a new country for my DXCC, so I am incredibly pleased to have made the contact!

Here is a proper look at how a pileup appears on a modern display, followed by a complete guide on how to survive it.

When You Are the Hunted (The Activator)

When you are the station that everyone wants in their logbook, you are the conductor of the orchestra. If the pileup senses hesitation, chaos ensues. You must dictate the pace, for both CW and SSB operations.

Controlling the Pileup on CW

Establish a Predictable Rhythm: Your CQ, your exchange, and your QRZ should follow a strict pattern. Consistency allows hunters to time their calls perfectly. If you change your cadence, the pileup gets messy.

Run Split for Large Piles: If the pileup merges into a single continuous drone, go split immediately. You might send “UP 1” to tell callers to transmit one kilohertz above your listening frequency. This spreads the callers out. Send your “UP” frequently enough that the self-appointed pileup police do not take over your transmit frequency. I suggest sending “UP” after each successful logged contact (QSO).

Own the Partials: If you only pull “NW7” out of the noise, send “NW7?”. Do not send “QRZ?” immediately. Stick to that partial call until that specific station finishes the exchange. If they fade out, clearly send “QRZ?” to reset the pile.

Adjust Speed to Control Volume: A slight speed increase (bumping up 3 to 5 WPM) will naturally thin the pileup down to the more experienced operators. Dropping your speed will invite the newer operators back in.

Receiver Management: Back off your RF gain and use a wider filter than you might expect (around 400 to 500 Hz). A filter that is too narrow will cause you to miss the operators who are smartly calling slightly off-frequency.

Controlling the Pileup on SSB

Command with Your Voice: Speak clearly and maintain a steady, authoritative tone. Avoid shouting. Just like in CW, a predictable rhythm helps callers know exactly when to key their microphones.

Use Standard Phonetics: Stick strictly to the standard NATO phonetic alphabet (Alpha, Bravo, Charlie). Cute or custom phonetics confuse operators who do not speak English as their first language.

Acknowledge and Isolate: When multiple voices blur together, listen for the last phonetic letter you can understand. If you hear “Sierra,” say “The station ending in Sierra, go ahead.” Ignore everyone else until that station completes the contact.

My POTA / Portable HF station (a low-power, or, QRP, station).

When You Are the Hunter (The Chaser)

When you are trying to break through a massive wall of sound, raw output power is secondary to timing and sharp observation.

Breaking the Pileup on CW

Listen First, Key Second: Before touching the paddle, listen to three or four complete exchanges. If the activator is working split, figure out their pattern. Are they tuning from the bottom up? Top down? Find where they listened last, and place your transmit frequency just above it.

Use XIT (The Golden Rule): Never perfectly zero-beat the DX station if others are calling. To the activator, three zero-beat stations merge into a single tone. Use your Transmitter Incremental Tuning (XIT) to shift your transmit frequency by 30 to 50 Hz. This slight difference in pitch makes your signal pop out of the receiver passband.

Time the Tail-End: Wait for the massive wall of sound to begin fading, and send your call exactly as the main group finishes. A perfectly timed tail-end call lets your suffix ring out in the clear.

Send Once: When the DX sends “QRZ?”, send your callsign exactly once and listen. Sending your call multiple times just causes interference and slows down the entire operation.

Follow Instructions: If the DX sends “NW7?”, and that is not you, keep your hand off the key. Transmitting over the station they are trying to work only prolongs the pileup for everyone.

Breaking the Pileup on SSB

Study the Cadence: Just like with Morse code, listen to the activator to find the rhythm. Wait for the exact moment the activator stops speaking before you key up.

Drop Your Call and Wait: Say your full callsign once using standard phonetics, then unkey and listen. If you are tail-ending, you might just drop the last two letters of your callsign precisely as the noise floor drops.

Adjust Your Pitch: If you have equalization controls on your radio, boost the mid-to-high frequencies on your microphone audio. A slightly punchy and higher-pitched voice will cut through the bass-heavy rumble of a dozen other stations calling at once.

Working a pileup tests your patience and your ear. Whether you are tapping out Morse code or speaking into a microphone, the operator who listens more than they transmit almost always makes the contact first.

Propagation and the Pile-Up

As many of you know, I was the space weather and radio propagation columnist in CQ Amateur Radio Magazine from 2001 through its demise. I strongly advocate for all HF radio operators to understand the basics of radio wave propagation on shortwave frequencies. There are a lot of myths and frankly, horrific theories on how radio waves propagate.

Understanding how the ionosphere refracts radio waves is a crucial tactical advantage. The behavior of a pile-up changes dramatically based on the frequency band you choose and the current mood of our sun.

The Sun Dictates the Rules

The ionosphere is charged by solar radiation. When solar activity is high, higher frequencies become usable for long distances.

Solar Flux Index: The SFI is a great indicator of overall ionization. A higher SFI means better conditions for the higher HF bands. When the SFI climbs, bands like 15, 12, and 10 meters open up globally.

Geomagnetic Storms: Measured by the K-index, these storms can disrupt communications entirely. A high K-index often absorbs signals crossing the polar regions. This can suddenly mute a massive European pile-up for North American operators.

Fading: The ionosphere is always shifting. Signals will constantly rise and fall in strength, which is known as QSB. A smart chaser listens for the rhythm of this fade and throws their callsign into the pile-up exactly when the band peaks for their specific location.

How Bands Shape the Pile-Up

Every amateur radio band has its own personality. The pile-ups you encounter will reflect these differences perfectly.

10, 12, and 15 Meters: These high bands are daytime frequencies that thrive on high solar activity. When 10 meters opens up, signals can be astonishingly loud with very low atmospheric noise. Pile-ups here can ignite suddenly and stretch very wide across the frequency spectrum.

20 Meters: This is the traditional workhorse band for global communication. Pile-ups on 20 meters are massive, sustained, and densely packed. You will often compete with high-power stations and massive beam antennas on this frequency day or night.

40 and 80 Meters: These low bands come alive at night. They are heavily affected by atmospheric noise and static crashes. Breaking a pile-up here requires an exceptionally well-tuned ear and the ability to pull faint CW tones or muffled voices out of a very high noise floor.

The Skip Zone Effect

The propagation of radio waves.

One of the most confusing aspects of a pile-up for a new operator is the skip zone. Radio waves bounce off the ionosphere and return to earth far away, which means they skip right over the geographic areas in between. You might hear the DX station perfectly, but you might not hear the hundreds of other operators calling them because those callers are inside your skip zone. This phenomenon is exactly why you must rely on the DX station’s cadence rather than waiting to hear the pile-up clear.

While raw power is often cited as the key to breaking a pile-up, your antenna system plays a far more decisive role in your overall effectiveness. A directional antenna, like a Yagi or a hexbeam, not only focuses your transmitted energy directly toward the DX station but also actively rejects interfering signals from other directions. However, do not be discouraged if you are running a simple wire antenna. A well-placed dipole or end-fed half-wave can still break monumental pile-ups if you leverage good timing, exploit the skip zone, and listen closely to the DX operator. Ultimately, the best antenna in the world cannot compensate for poor operating habits.

Over to You

Working a pile-up is one of the most rewarding challenges in amateur radio. It tests your patience, refines your ear, and forces you to understand both the science of radio wave propagation and the psychology of your fellow operators. Every massive wall of sound is a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Now, I would love to hear from you. What was your most memorable pile-up experience? Do you have a specific tactic that consistently helps you break through the noise, or perhaps a frustrating moment that taught you a valuable lesson? Drop your stories and questions in the comments below, and let us keep the conversation going.

From my shack to yours, 73 de NW7US.

Got my N3ZN Single-Lever Paddle out of storage, along with most of my POTA station. Despite being homeless and living in the hotel for the last few months (see my personal story on my website), I am trying to keep my brain active and that includes Morse code practice. Why? Besides the health benefit, I want to start getting out into the hotel parking lot and set up to work POTA stations.

Eventually, I will get to an official POTA-registered park, too. We became homeless just as I was planning on activating Ohio parks. Now, I am in Nebraska, and as a disabled veteran, can get into some parks without any big fees.

What is left before I can activate a POTA location? I need to find the antenna and coax assembly that I put together for the whole station. In the meantime, I am practicing to get the cobwebs out of my brain and re-learn that muscle memory. Will also do a lot of receiving practice. Gotta get my brain in gear! Read more about POTA, here. For live POTA on-air spotting, go here.

The Spark in the Wire: How Re-Learning Morse Code Rewires the Brain

There is a unique rhythm to Continuous Wave (CW) amateur radio. As I sit at the key, shaking off the cobwebs and practicing to regain that deep muscle memory, I can feel my brain kicking into a higher gear. It isn’t just about nostalgia or the thrill of making a contact through the static using nothing but tones. There is real, hard science behind why copying and sending Morse code feels like a cognitive tune-up.

In preparing to share this journey, I dove into the research surrounding how learning and practicing CW impacts our neurology. What I discovered confirms what many of us experienced operators have long suspected: Morse code is a powerhouse for brain health and cognitive longevity.

The Cognitive Science of CW

When we sit down for a session of receiving practice, we aren’t just listening to dots and dashes. We are engaging in a complex, multi-sensory cognitive exercise. Research shows that mastering Morse code alters the brain’s structure and functional connectivity in profound ways.

* Neuroplasticity in Action: Studies in neuroimaging have revealed that learning Morse code increases the microstructural integrity of the white matter tracts connecting the auditory and motor cortices. By translating sound directly into physical movement (sending) and physical movement or mental text into meaning (receiving), we are literally forging new neural pathways.

* Bi-Hemispheric Engagement: Unlike ordinary speech, which is heavily localized in the left hemisphere of the brain, processing Morse code recruits areas across both the left and right hemispheres. The left side handles the structural, analytical translation of the code, while the right side processes the rhythmic, musical elements of the pitch and timing.

* Enhancing Working Memory: Receiving CW at higher speeds requires a robust “audio buffer” in your working memory. You must hold the sounds of the characters in your mind, decode them, and write them down or copy them in your head, all while the next characters are already pouring into your ears. This builds tremendous cognitive reserve.

The Koch Method: Training the Brain the Right Way

When I first learned Morse code, and now as I work to bring that muscle memory back, the method of training matters immensely. Trying to count dots and dashes visually or memorizing a chart is a trap. It creates a cognitive bottleneck that falls apart at higher speeds.

That is where the Koch method comes in, a technique that aligns perfectly with how our brains naturally process fast, rhythmic information.

* Full Speed from Day One: Invented by German psychologist Ludwig Koch, this method dictates that you listen to characters at your target speed right from the start, typically 20 words per minute or faster.

* Preventing the “Counting” Habit: By keeping the character speed high, your brain is physically incapable of counting the individual dots and dashes. Instead, you are forced to learn the overall rhythmic “sound basket” or shape of the letter.

* Incremental Success: You start with just two characters. Once you can copy them with 90% accuracy, you add a third, then a fourth. This builds immediate, reflexive muscle memory rather than analytical translation.

CWops, CW Academy, and LICW: Modern Gold Standarda

In my exploration of modern training tools that honor this science, I found that the amateur radio community has perfected this instructional approach. Organizations like CWops, through their renowned CW Academy, have taken the core principles of the Koch method and elevated them for the modern era. Another adaptation from the Koch method is the Long Island CW group (LICW) website and support structure.

* Rhythm and Spacing: CW Academy utilizes effective spacing methods related to the Koch philosophy. They send characters at a high effective speed so your brain learns the correct sound patterns immediately, while widening the space between the characters to give your mind time to process them.

* Structured Discipline: Their programs offer the exact kind of structured environment required to overcome writer’s block or training plateaus. It combines the rigorous discipline of daily practice with the support of a community.

* Interactive Learning: By pairing rigorous receiving practice with peer interaction, they stimulate the social and cognitive centers of the brain simultaneously, maximizing the neuroplastic benefits of the hobby.

Final Thoughts: Getting the Gears Turning

Re-learning CW is more than just a return to a beloved pastime. It is a deliberate act of cognitive preservation. Every evening spent copy-practicing and burning those pathways back into my hands is an investment in focus, memory, and mental sharpness. The science proves it, but sitting at the desk, feeling the cobwebs clear as the code starts to flow naturally once again, is all the proof I truly need.

Here’s just some practice after adjusting the key gap spacing and tension.

I started in the ham radio and shortwave listening hobby in 1972. By 1975, this was my first real receiver. It heard very well, and ignited my lifelong passion for radio.

The R-366/TRR-5 military receiver.

This old radio, the R-366/TRR-5, which is clearly identified on the faceplate in this picture of the military rig, had great ears. It was what I used to hone my Morse code copying skills and to get the hang of how amateur radio operators conducted communications with each other, with CW, AM, or SSB. I hope someday to own one once again.

The R-366

The R-366/TRR-5 is a significant piece of military history manufactured for the Navy Department Bureau of Ships by the Espey Manufacturing Company. Built during an era when the United States Navy required absolute reliability for ship to shore and ship to ship communications, the unit is a testament to the rugged industrial design of the mid-twentieth century. Often referred to as part of the TRR-5 receiving set, this equipment frequently incorporated high quality components and precision engineering including the gold standard Collins Radio Company designs of that period. These internal components were vital in providing the remarkable stability and selectivity needed to pull weak signals out of the dense electronic noise environment found on a crowded naval vessel. It did have heterodyne squeals on a select few frequencies, which any old tube receiver was prone to have, but those did not detract from the excellent capability of the radio.

The Service

For the sailors and radio operators serving aboard ships in the 1950s and 1960s these receivers were far more than just tools for duty. In the often cramped and isolated conditions of life at sea these radios served as a critical psychological anchor. Access to the bands meant hearing the familiar sounds of home or tuning into MARS stations where amateur radio operators facilitated phone patches that reconnected sailors with their families. This bridge to the outside world was essential for maintaining morale and supporting the mental health of military personnel who were otherwise cut off from the rhythms of civilian life for months at a time. Sitting in the radio shack and slowly tuning that large central dial while listening to the crackle of the ionosphere was a meditative escape from the constant hum of shipboard operations. Many ships would pipe ball games and news shows, or music programs, over the ships intercomms, providing health and morale to the personnel.

Operating the Radio

The tactile experience of operating this specific receiver remains vivid in my memory. The layout with its distinct knobs for selectivity phasing and BFO control was designed for the hands of a professional radio operator who needed to manipulate the signal in real time. It required a disciplined ear and a steady hand to copy Morse code through heavy atmospheric conditions but that struggle made every successful reception feel deeply rewarding. It taught me the patience and technical appreciation that have defined my amateur radio hobby for decades. Owning and using a piece of history like this represented a connection to the generations of operators who stood the watch before me.

Traveling the World…

With this historic military receiver, I discovered an entire world as a child in the mid 1970s. I spent countless nights in the quiet darkness of my room with only the warm orange and yellow glow from the vacuum tubes leaking out of the back and top grills and slots of the radio enclosure, as those hot tubes cast soft light on the ceiling and walls. That radio allowed me to travel the globe from my listening position often sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of this big rig. Those late night listening sessions, when I should have been sleeping, ignited a lifelong passion for understanding the vast and interconnected world of shortwave radio as well as medium-wave DXing. I heard International Shortwave Broadcast stations as well as AM broadcast stations from Europe, Asia, the South Pacific, the Atlantic regions, South America, Central America, and North America–all over the world! I listened to amateur radio operators on Morse code, SSB, and AM modes. Ships at sea, aircraft doing transoceanic flights, fishing vessels comms where fishing captains would chat with other boat captains, and even military communications were all at my fingertips on the dial of the radio as I listened to these exotic places by headphones. I even picked up a station from Peru, South America late one night, on the mediumwave broadcast band. That is how great that receiver could hear. Of course, I had a very excellent outdoor dipole antenna that was cut for 160 meters.

What Receiver Was Your First?

What was your first major receiver? Was it just a receiver, or was it a transceiver? When was that? What did you hear that captured your imagination? Do you still have that radio?
I hope to someday have this R-366/TRR-5, once again.

~ Happy DX!
NW7US

The photograph, below, captures a compelling moment of technical mastery during the formative years of American broadcasting, set deep within the inner workings of the Crosley Radio operation in Cincinnati, Ohio, during the 1930s. This was not just a studio but a nerve center for one of the most ambitious radio experiments in history. In the frame, an unidentified announcer sits with a quiet, practiced focus before a sensitive microphone, his presence framed by a formidable wall of equipment that served as the control interface for Powel Crosley Jr.’s broadcasting empire.

WLW, W8XAL, and WSAI

The machinery in front of him represents the sophisticated control panels for three distinct stations, labeled for WLW, W8XAL, and WSAI. These panels were the operational gateway to a signal that redefined the reach of radio. WLW, in particular, earned the nickname The Nation’s Station, and for a brief but legendary period in the mid-1930s, it was granted special authorization by the Federal Communications Commission to experiment with a massive power output of 500,000 watts. This made it the most powerful radio station in the United States, a true technological titan of the era. The signal was so incredibly potent that listeners across North America and beyond often reported hearing the broadcast under unusual circumstances, such as through the metal teeth of fillings, in the coils of mattress springs, or even through the humming of household plumbing.

Beyond the standard AM broadcast of WLW, the inclusion of W8XAL in this control room highlights the critical role shortwave technology played in the Crosley vision. While the standard AM signal was meant for domestic reach, W8XAL served as an experimental shortwave companion, designed to project the Cincinnati broadcasts far beyond the limitations of local and regional airwaves. Shortwave radio waves possess the unique ability to bounce off the ionosphere, allowing signals to travel thousands of miles and transcend national borders. Through W8XAL, the Crosley organization was testing the feasibility of true international broadcasting, turning the modest studios in Cincinnati into a point of origin for listeners located as far away as South America or Europe.

This shortwave capability was a significant leap in the evolution of mass media. It represented a deliberate attempt to overcome the geographical isolation that had defined the earlier, more fragmented era of radio. By operating on shortwave frequencies, the announcers and engineers were participating in a grand experiment to see if a single localized voice could truly become a global one. It was an ambitious pursuit that demanded even greater precision than standard broadcasting, as atmospheric conditions and solar activity could frequently disrupt the long-distance transmission path.

Working in this control room was a task that required both the poise of a performer and the precision of an engineer. Each dial, needle gauge, and switch was a critical element in maintaining the integrity of the broadcast, as the announcer had to carefully monitor the modulation levels to ensure the signal remained clear and stable for millions of listeners. A lapse in focus could mean a technical failure or a broadcast error that reached a massive, dispersed audience in real time. It was a high-stakes, high-pressure environment, yet it functioned as the primary, and often only, window to the wider world for families weathering the depths of the Great Depression.

Powel Crosley Jr. was a man of intense vision, and he understood better than most that radio was the ultimate tool for domestic and international unification. These transmitters were the engine that bridged the vast geographical distance between his studio in Cincinnati and the living rooms of families scattered across the continent and beyond. When people turned their dials to find the station, they were connecting to a piece of engineering that stood at the very cutting edge of the twentieth century. Looking at this image today, it is easy to feel a sense of awe for that era, when the simple act of turning a knob could bring the world into a home, effectively shrinking the vastness of the country and changing the way society experienced culture, news, and shared humanity forever.

I have been spending time reflecting on the history of our wonderful hobby, and this April 1946 issue of Radio News really grabbed my attention. It is such a fascinating time capsule because it highlights the exact moment when thousands of hams were finally allowed back on the air after the long, forced silence of World War II. During the war, the United States government issued a total moratorium on all amateur radio activity, fearing that transmissions could be used by enemy agents to relay information. For four and a half years, our equipment sat idle and our antennas were taken down.

Radio News, April 1946, Cover

This is Bill Shaw, W9UIG, in this photo. He was among the first back on the air, and his station setup was really something else for the time. He was running a capable 500-watt station with a 3-element beam antenna, which was quite a powerhouse back then. His receiver was the legendary Hammarlund HQ 120X, which was a dream for many operators, and it was prized for its stability and sensitivity. Because early receivers often struggled with noise and image rejection, he used an RME DB20 preselector. This unit sat between his antenna and the receiver to provide additional gain and help pull weak signals out of the background noise. He also used a Meissner Signal Shifter, which was essentially a variable frequency exciter that allowed him to shift his frequency to find an empty spot or avoid interference, rather than being stuck on one fixed crystal frequency.

I look at those glowing vacuum tubes in his equipment, and those on display on his desk, and it reminds me of why I love this craft so much… there is just something special about the warmth and the technical artistry of those older rigs, with all their high voltage requirements and intense heat. And of course, I could not help but notice the wall behind him absolutely covered in QSL cards from all over the world. That really is the heart of why we do this, is it not… that thrill of reaching out across the globe and collecting those cards as a badge of honor? He had cards from places like Australia, the United Kingdom, and New Zealand, which shows he was an active DXer who specialized in long distance communication. In 1946, there was no internet or satellite communication, so amateur radio was truly the only way for a private citizen to speak directly to someone on the other side of the planet. It really makes you appreciate the history behind the call signs we use today. Does anyone else get nostalgic looking at these old shack photos… I would love to hear your thoughts on these classic setups and the history of our craft!

Regarding the magazine: While the magazine, Radio News, had its roots as, Radio Amateur News, when Hugo Gernsback founded it in 1919, it quickly evolved into something much broader as the radio industry itself exploded. By the 1940s, Radio News was far more than just a ham radio publication, it was a comprehensive technology magazine that covered the entire spectrum of radio and emerging electronics.

During that era, these magazines played an absolutely massive role in the amateur radio hobby. They were essentially the internet, the local club meeting, and the technical manual all rolled into one. For the average ham, a monthly arrival of Radio News or its contemporaries like QST or CQ Amateur Radio Magazine, was an essential lifeline. Side note: I wrote the propagation column in CQ Amateur Radio Magazine (and in CQ VHF, Popular Communications Magazine, Monitoring Times, and The Spectrum Monitor). For CQ, I wrote every month from 2001 to its demise at the passing of its publisher, Dick Ross, K2MGA (sk).

These magazines provided the blueprints and technical schematics that allowed hams to build their own transmitters and receivers from scratch. Because commercial gear was expensive and often hard to come by, the homebrew culture was the backbone of the hobby. Magazines provided the detailed instructions for these projects, teaching a generation of radio enthusiasts how to solder, how to wind coils, and how to understand the complex circuitry of vacuum tubes.

Beyond the technical side, these magazines served as a vital community connector. In a time when the hobby was geographically isolated, they fostered a sense of belonging to an international fraternity. They published operating news, shared tips on DXing (long-distance communication), and established the behavioral expectations and operating standards that defined what it meant to be a true amateur. They taught us how to be gentlemanly, how to handle interference, and how to take pride in our operating technique.

For a young operator in the 1940s, these magazines were the doorway to the world. They documented the rapid technological shifts happening at the time, such as the transition from crystal control to VFOs, the introduction of television, and the post-war availability of surplus military equipment. They did not just tell you how to operate; they inspired you to learn more, to push your technical boundaries, and to see your shack as a part of a global, scientific endeavor. It is that spirit of constant learning and curiosity that kept us all coming back to our keys and microphones, decade after decade.

What other vintage radio publications do you remember fondly from those early days in the hobby?

This livestream recording is from September 1, 2024 – the NW7US Radio Communications Channel Livestream.  We do this livestream every Sunday at 21:15 UTC.  Here is the link to the livestream from this past Sunday:

The livestream list is here:

https://www.youtube.com/@nw7us/streams

I hope to see you in our livestream live chat, during the next session on Sunday, at 21:15 UTC.  See you there!