An Eclectic Mind

Wild horses, antelope, and sheep — oh, my!

I flew from Grand Canyon Airport to Page Municipal Airport (at Lake Powell) again yesterday.

Each time I make this trip, I follow pretty much the same route, hugging the southeast corner of the Grand Canyon Special Flight Rules Area (SFRA) until I get to the Little Colorado River Gorge and then heading pretty much due north. I wind up just outside the SFRA near Marble Canyon so I can show off Navajo Bridge and Lees Ferry before a quick flight past Horseshoe Bend, the Glen Canyon Dam, and Wahweap Marina. If the wind is in my favor, I can touch down at Page within an hour of departure from Grand Canyon. The same distance by car would take about 2-1/2 to 3 hours.

The terrain for most of this flight — from the Little Colorado River Gorge north, in fact — is high desert — technically the famous “Painted Desert” — and relatively barren. There are, however, some interesting features if you look hard for them. Since I’m always trying to point out interesting things for my passengers to see, I look very hard.

Ruins are relatively common. Round rock foundations are the remains of ancient hogans. (This area is on the Navajo reservation.) There are also the remains of animal enclosures, usually build with the same rock. There are complete hogans, some of which may still be occupied for at least part of the year, and ranches with hogans, sheds, outhouses, animal enclosures, and other buildings. All of these things are scattered across an immense landscape that takes more than 30 minutes to cross at 120 miles per hour.

There are also animals.

One of the questions I’m asked quite often by passengers is whether I see wildlife from the helicopter. I do, but not so often as to make it a common occurrence. It depends on where I’m flying, what time of day it is, and how hard I’m looking for wildlife.

Take antelope, for example. There are a few “prairies” north of I-40 and west of Mt. Kendricks in northern Arizona where, if I look hard enough, I can usually spot a herd of antelope. I know where to look and I remember to look. They’re hard to spot because their color matches the terrain so well. It usually takes movement to spot them. When I see them and point them out, my passengers never see them at first. I have to slow down, turn around, and drop a few hundred feet as we approach the herd. That gets them running a bit so my passengers can see them. As soon as they’re spotted — and photographed, if the passengers remember to whip out a camera — I move away. It’s not my goal to terrify the antelope population of northern arizona by buzzing them with a helicopter.

(When I flew at the Grand Canyon, I always saw at least one elk a day in the forest on one of my first or last flights for the day. My passengers never saw them and, since swooping around to show them wasn’t possible, I simply stopped pointing them out. It would be my own private treat.)

There are wild horses in numerous places throughout Arizona. I wrote a bit about them here. They’re also on the route I take from the Grand Canyon to Page. Today, my passengers and I spotted at least four herds of them — the most ever. They’re a lot easier to spot than antelope because of their size and color. But they’re also a lot easier to confuse with cattle. I look for long legs and long, thick tails.

There are domesticated sheep in various places throughout northern Arizona. We flew over a good-sized herd tended by four dogs today. They were a lot farther south than I expected — I usually see them farther north. This could be a different herd, of course. There were about 50 animals in that herd and the dogs did a pretty good job of keeping them together, even when my helicopter spooked them. (Yes, I had to do a circle for my passengers to see them; they were pretty small.)

In the past, I’ve also seen javelinas (pronounced have-a-leenas) from the air. They’re usually in herds of a dozen or more animals and I’ve only spotted them when I was alone, flying a lot lower than I do with passengers on board.

Of course, I don’t have photos of any of this. I’m flying and my hands are usually busy. My passengers never seem to remember to send me their shots. But one of these days, I’ll have some photos to share.

Flying, Travels with Maria animals, Arizona, desert, Grand Canyon, helicopters, Navajo, Page

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Another video blog entry.

I brought my laptops to the airport today. The air conditioning there works a lot better than the air conditioning in my trailer. There’s a big empty space with desks on the second floor of the terminal building and that’s where I set up to work. I got a lot written today on the book I’ve been working on this month, but when 5 PM rolled around, I was burned out.

I made this video from the adjacent room, which we call the “tower” room. It’s just a second floor room in the corner of the building with windows on both walls. Excellent views of what’s going on at the airport. There’s a UNICOM radio there, too, so you can hear the pilots giving their position calls as they do their tours, as well as the occasional non-local pilot flying in. The room is right next door to where I work, so I can hear the radio while I’m writing. It’s a bit distracting, but with my backache, it’s good to get up and walk around every once in a while anyway.

This video shows the pilots at American Aviation loading up their passengers and taking off on a tour of Lake Powell. I narrate it so it’s not too boring. Near the end, I show off some more of the ramp while planes launch into the blue sky. I hope you enjoy it.

Days in My Life, Flying, Multimedia airports, Arizona, aviation, Page, tourism, videos

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What I’ve been up to — and why I’ve been too busy to blog.

I haven’t been blogging regularly for the past week or so. That’s because I’ve been on the move.

Monday, July 28

I spent the morning cleaning out my hangar at Quincy for departure the next day. Then I flew up to Chelan and met my friend Jim. He flew us in his helicopter to Spokane, ID for lunch and then on to Coeur D’Alene, ID where he’s based. He demonstrated a confined space landing by setting down in the parking area of his business property in downtown Coeur D’Alene to offload a bunch of stuff. Then we went to the local airport, fueled up, and picked up his wife for the return flight to Chelan. I got some great photos of combines in action on the dry wheat fields. We landed at Chelan with just enough time to chat with another helicopter pilot before it was time for me to fly back to Quincy.

Tuesday, July 29

I spent much of Tuesday morning preparing to leave Quincy. I had to disassemble my helicopter tow bar and stow its pieces in the back of my truck, then clear out everything else still in the hangar I’d been renting. I also had to drop off my last month’s rent. I bought some cherries and other fresh fruit, too.

I had just enough time for a quick shower before visitors started coming. Louis, who would fly with me later in the day to Seattle, arrived first. Then Teresa, Jim’s wife, arrived with Jim’s pickup. He bought the remaining fuel in my transfer tank — about 50 gallons of 100LL — for $4/gallon. A great deal for both of us, since I wanted the fuel out to lighten up my truck. We pumped the fuel from my transfer tank to Jim’s and Teresa departed.

Then Louis dropped me off at Quincy Airport and drove my truck to Wenatchee. I took my helicopter to Wenatchee to meet him and we flew from there to Seattle’s Boeing Field, on a marginal weather flight I reported in some detail here. After a chat with my mechanic there, Louis and his mom dropped me off at SeaTac. I had a pretty good halibut dinner at Anthony’s before I caught a flight back to Wenatchee. I was back in my camper by 9:30 PM, exhausted.

Wednesday, July 30

Wednesday was the big day. I packed up the camper, stowed Alex the Bird on board the truck in his travel box, hooked up the camper to the truck, and pulled out. I’d been in my campsite for just a few days short of two months.

My destination was Walla Walla, WA, about 150-200 miles away. I chose a route that kept me on back roads. I don’t think I ever saw so much wheat in my life. My chosen route took me past Palouse Falls, so I stopped in and got some photos. It was an interesting place and well worth the stop.

From there, I continued on to Walla Walla, with a stop at a drugstore soda fountain in Dayton for an ice cream sundae. I checked into the Four Seasons RV Park around 5 PM, set up the camper for a two-night stay, and went out to grab some dinner. I wound up at a restaurant called Luscious, where I had an excellent polenta dish and a glass of wine.

This is also the first day I gave my new SPOT Messenger a workout. You can track my progress for this entire trip on my Share page, http://www.tinyurl.com/FindMaria. You’ll have to page back using controls under the Waypoints list to see the track for that day.

Thursday, July 31

There was something about dinner that didn’t agree with me, no matter how tasty it was, because I was up at 3 AM, leaning over the camper’s toilet and choking it all back up. I hate to puke but what they say is true: you do feel better when you’re done. But I wasn’t operating at 100% the next day, which I’d set aside to explore opportunities in Walla Walla.

It’s no secret that I pretty much hate where I live right now. Wickenburg is a dead town, full of ultra conservative retirees who live there only half the year and don’t spend much of their money in town when they’re around. They don’t have an emotional investment in the town and don’t seem to care what happens to it. As a result, new businesses — other than those that cater to the budget-conscious — don’t last more than a year or so. There are few decent restaurants and very few shopping opportunities. If it weren’t for the newly built and then remodeled Safeway Supermarket and a handful of longtime other businesses, I don’t know how I could live there at all. To make matters worse, the Mayor and Council seem more interested in growing the town’s population base for the financial benefit of their families and cronies than building an economic base that includes good-paying jobs that’ll attract young, vibrant people. The Chamber of Commerce pushed for an in-town “bypass” that’s destroying downtown parks and other facilities and adding a “roundabout” that’s sure to cause daily accidents. I love my home and its immediate surroundings and it’s painful to see how they’re destroying whatever was good about the town. There’s nothing else here for us anymore. All of our friends in our age group have already left town. We’re the only ones left.

So I’m exploring possibilities and Walla Walla was high on my list. I spent some time checking out the very pleasant historic downtown area, where it was nice to not be the youngest person on the street. Then I went over to the airport to meet with the airport manager about moving my flying business there. She was extremely helpful and enthusiastic and said a lot of things that made me believe I’d be welcome there. (What a refreshing change that was.) There would certainly be a lot more opportunities in that town than where I’m based now. I also checked out a few wineries — there are dozens in the area! — although I couldn’t do any tasting with my stomach so iffy all day.

By 4 PM, I was exhausted. I went back to the camper to relax and wound up staying in for the rest of the night.

Friday, August 1

On Friday, I needed to get an early start. I was expected in Salt Lake City at 6 PM. I’d be spending the night at the home of my friend and editor, Megg, and her family. Utah (MDST) is 1 hour ahead of Washington (PDST) so I’d already lost an hour. Trouble was, I needed to visit the post office to see if a General Delivery letter (containing a large check) had arrived. So I got as much prepared as possible before 9 AM and drove into town again. The check was there. I stopped at an excellent bakery that had been highly recommended by a Twitter friend and bought a fruit tart to bring to my friend’s place. Then I gassed up the truck.

Back at the camper, I was all ready to hook up the trailer when I realized that I was missing a leverage bar I needed for the hitch. I wasted an hour searching for it, then gave up and went to Home Depot to buy a replacement. That little fiasco cost me another hour. I didn’t get on the road until 10:30 AM.

That meant I had to take highways. I drove down to Pendleton and hopped on I-84 eastbound. And thus started a very long, very grueling day of driving. The trouble is, my 1994 Ford F150 8-cylinder pickup truck, when towing, is no match for hills and mountains. On flat areas (or downhill, of course), I could get it up to 65 MPH. But as soon as I started to climb, my speed deteriorated. Down to 35 MPH. Trucks were passing me.

And the roads through eastern Oregon and southern Idaho are very hilly.

I plowed on, stopping only for fuel and some fast food that I ate while driving. The hours slipped away. I was just entering the Salt Lake basin area when the sun set. It was about 8 PM. After making two wrong turns, I pulled up in front of Megg’s house just after 9 PM. I’d been on the road for more than 10 hours and was exhausted.

Megg fed me and helped me bring Alex the Bird’s cage into her dining room. By 11 PM, I was asleep in her guest room.

Saturday, August 2

We got up early and hit the farmer’s market in downtown Salt Lake City. This was, by far, the best farmer’s market I’d ever been to. Plenty of fresh produce, baked goods, and other items you’d expect to find at such a place, as well as other non-food items that generally dominate most other farmer’s markets in this country these days. Megg had her 5-year-old son, Cooper, along and we joined Megg’s friend and her 5-year-old son for coffee and scones at a shady table in the park. I felt as if I could have spent the whole day there — it was so pleasant.

But we headed out to the Snowbird ski resort area, where we took a hike in Albion Basin. The area had been recommended by photographer and Twitter friend Ann Torrence, who linked to a photo of the place that made it irresistible. The three of us hiked about 2 miles round trip to Cecret Lake (also spelled Secret Lake). I took a lot of photos; this is one of them. The place was amazingly beautiful. Again, I think I could have spent the whole day there. But we didn’t have a whole day. In fact, I was hoping to be back on the road by 1 PM.

The departure time slipped as we went to the Snowbird Ski Resort and took the tram to the top of Hidden Peak. I’m so out of shape I was huffing and puffing at 11,000 feet. We headed back to Salt Lake City where I scrambled to get everything together. It was 3:30 when I said goodbye and hit the road again with Alex.

My goal had been to reach Page, AZ before nightfall. That simply was not going to happen — especially with the way my truck was climbing hills. I wound up in Beaver, UT, where I had dinner at a truck stop before pulling into an RV park for the night. I didn’t unhook the trailer or pop out any of the beds. Instead, I just plugged in the power cord, opened the sofa, and snuggled up in a comforter with a pillow.

Sunday, August 3

I pulled out of the RV park at 6 AM sharp and continued south on I-15 to SR 20 to US 89. It wasn’t until I got to Mt. Carmel Junction that I stopped for breakfast and fuel. I was back in familiar territory — the turn at this junction leads to Zion National Park. After breakfast, I continued down through Kanab, stopping to take a photo of a reflecting pool alongside the road along the way. Then I continued east and was very pleased to see the silhouette of Navajo Mountain off in the distance.

I arrived at the Glen Canyon Dam visitor’s center at 10:30 AM. Mike was already there with his truck and Jack the Dog. We had another breakfast in Page, then went to the airport to chat with the folks I’ll be flying for there, and finally to the campground, where we were told we were “lucky” to get a spot. (There’s more to this story, but I don’t feel like going into it now.) We spent the rest of the day picking up a few things for the camper and then just taking it easy. We had dinner in town, then came back to the trailer and watched a movie on my laptop before falling asleep.

Monday, August 4

We did a lot of chores that morning. We had to button up the camper to move it to another site (which we were “lucky” to get) that was suitable for monthly use. It turns out, the only thing that made it suitable was an electric meter, so if I sucked too much electricity, they could charge me for it. The new site is right near the road, which I’m not happy at all about. But I’m hoping it’ll be close enough to the office to connect to the WiFi network there.

We left Mike’s truck with the trailer and climbed back into my truck with the stuff I wouldn’t need anymore — including Alex’s cage. Then the four of us headed home. We’d gotten about 15 miles south of Page when Mike realized he’d forgotten his cell phone. We went back to fetch it, then bought milk shakes that were way too big (and way too expensive) for the ride. At 2 PM, we were in Flagstaff, where we stopped for a Thai food lunch. We were still full from the damn milk shakes, so we wound up taking most of the food home with us.

We were in Wickenburg by 5:30 PM. I fetched one of my cars from my hangar and came home.

Busy enough for you?

So that’s a whole week and then some, all accounted for here. You can see why I didn’t blog regularly. Hopefully, this long post will make up for it — if you could last through it all.

We hit the road again on Friday morning, when we fly to Seattle to fetch the helicopter and bring it down to Page. I hope to be able to share more stories and photos with readers then.

Until then, remember that you can track my progress for most of my trips these days on my SPOT Share page, http://www.tinyurl.com/FindMaria. Use controls under the waypoints list to scroll back through previous days.

And be sure to check out my photo gallery for larger images of what I’ve shared here: http://www.FlyingMPhotos.com/.

About the Photos, Days in My Life, Travels with Maria Arizona, Idaho, Oregon, Page, photography, Salt Lake City, Utah, Washington

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Page, the Windy City — and More

I slept like shit. I don’t know why. The bed was very comfortable and the room temperature was cosy without being hot. The place was even pretty quiet.

I was at the airport by 5:30 AM. My first flight was scheduled for 6:10 AM and I had to get the doors off and do my preflight. I borrowed the FBO’s cart to shuttle myself out there and bring the doors back. The pilots for American, which is also the FBO I used, were doing their preflight stuff. One of them commented about me starting work so early. I didn’t mention that less than two weeks before, I’d been airborne with clients 30 minutes before sunrise.

More Wind

I should mention here that the forecast called for strong winds. When I got to the airport, the wind was calm. I figured that if I could knock off my two morning flights quickly, we might be able to finish before the wind kicked in.

Wrong!

Although we were halfway to the confluence by the time the sun came over the top of a cloud layer to the east, it was already bumpy out near Navajo Mountain. At one point, I had a 30-knot tailwind. We bumped our way past the mountain and spent some quality time at the confluence before bumping our way back. We did Horseshoe Bend and the Dam before landing at the airport.

I warned my next group that I wasn’t going very far up lake. Fortunately, there was a map in the terminal and someone who could translate for me, so they knew what to expect. But by that time, it was getting windy, even at Page. I hit sinkhole at 8000 feet flying circles over Horseshoe Bend that got one of my passengers to scream. I hate when that happens.

By the time I landed, the wind was 14 gusting to 28. I don’t mind wind half as much as gusts. It’s the gust spread that’ll get you every time.

I was done flying before 10:30 AM. I went back to the hotel to check out. I ran into Mike in the lobby. He’d planned on sending someone with me to Monument Valley. But I told him I wasn’t sure if I could make it. That had him bothered. He was scheduled for the afternoon flight there. I told him that if it was too windy to fly out that night, I’d start before dawn and get there in time for the morning flight. Then we parted ways. He had a long drive in front of him. I wasn’t looking forward to the flight ahead of me.

Lower Antelope Canyon

With some time to kill while I waited for the wind to die down, I went to Lower Antelope Canyon. Although I’ve been to Antelope Canyon many times, this was the first time I’d been to the less popular, lower part. It was easy to understand why it was less popular — it required climbing. On ladders.

Ah, but first you had to pass the entrance exam. I mean that quite literally. You had to step down into the canyon, which appeared as a narrow slot (see photo). I’m not huge but I admit that I had to twist my body a bit to fit into the opening of the canyon. A really fat person never would have made it, which explains why there really weren’t any really fat people in there.

From the mouth of the canyon, it was a few steps down into a world of swirling sandstone chambers. I’d pass through a narrow slot or twisting path that would suddenly open up to a wide area where the light came in, casting a golden glow on the rock surfaces. Then more twists and turns and squeezes with a few ladders and steps thrown in to keep out the out-of-shape riff-raff. The canyon went on for at least a half mile, always descending, with each twist and turn bringing more of the same. I counted two arches carved through the rock, but there may have been more — I missed the first one on my way in.

There was fine sand under foot and blowing sand drifting down into the canyon from above. Soon, there was sand in my hair and clothes and camera lens. It was a fine red sand that gathered in small dunes and drifts outside the canyon. Inside, it fell like rain from the sky. (One of the first things I did when I got to my hotel room that night was to take a hot shower and get all that sand off me.)

I took lots of photos. For some reason, I thought the light would be better in Lower Antelope Canyon than the Upper Antelope Canyon, so I’d left my tripod in the car. Very dumb. I really could have used it in there. So I had to play with the camera, using Program mode for some shots and setting other shots to a minimum shutter speed of 1/30th of a second. About 1/2 of the shots are usable and about 1/2 of those aren’t bad at all.

There were quite a few people in there, but they were spread out, so there were plenty of opportunities to just sit and look around, undisturbed, or frame that perfect photo. Unlike Upper Antelope Canyon, visitors get a full 4 hours in the canyon, which is plenty of time to explore and enjoy. (In the upper canyon, you only get about an hour.)

At this point, I think I like Lower Antelope Canyon better than Upper Antelope Canyon. But I need another visit to be sure.

Lunch and Waiting

I hit the Chinese restaurant in the Basha’s shopping center for lunch. Nothing like a Chinese buffet to remind you how much crap the average person eats. But it was quick and easy and cheap. And I really am starved for Asian food.

The car had to go back to the airport or I’d have to pay for another day. So I went back to the airport and turned it in. And then spent the next few hours hanging around with the tour pilots who worked for the FBO there. They flew Cessna 172s and 206s up and down the lake all day. But that day, they were sitting in the pilot lounge, waiting for the wind to die down.

The pilot lounge overlooked the ramp. The FBO’s planes were out there, tied down, facing the wind. If they hadn’t been tied down, they would have been airborne. The wind was gusting into the 30s and someone had even heard the automated weather observation system claim a gust of 43. Sheesh. That made a gust spread of over 20 mph.

I’d tied my helicopter’s blades down to prevent them from flopping around and damaging either the tailcone, blades, or droop stops. One of the pilots wanted to know if it was tied down to the ramp. I guess he thought it might take off like a plane in heavy wind. I told him it was full of fuel so it weighted about 1800 pounds. It wasn’t likely to blow around the ramp.

The pilots traded flying stories. A few of us were up in the “tower” room in the corner of the building when a Cessna 172 tried to land on runway 25. He was pointing right into the wind, but he seemed to have trouble descending. He floated over the runway, then said he was going around. I don’t know where he went around to because he didn’t come back. Kind of weird when you realize that there are only two or three other airports within 50 miles. Where did he go?

Westwind, which flies Cessna Caravans, was picking up the business that American was turning down. Caravans are considerably larger. A group of 17 French people came in, wanting to fly. Westwind warned them that the flights would be very bumpy and uncomfortable. 10 people decided to fly anyway. They split the group into two planes. One of the pilots, as he was leaving, said to us, “Well, it was nice knowing you all.”

Of course, it turned out okay. Although they had to take off with a stiff crosswind on runway 33, they were able to land on runway 25, pointed right into the wind. One of the planes looked as if it were hovering out there before landing.

Decision Time Comes, I Go

Meanwhile, time continued to move on. I’d already called Goulding’s Lodge, where my paid-for room awaited me. Sunset was at 7:08 PM Navajo Time. (The Navajo reservation has daylight savings time; the rest of Arizona does not. That put them an hour ahead of Page.) If I flew, I wanted to be on the ground before sunset. The strip at Goulding’s is not lighted and there isn’t much between Page and Monument Valley on the direct route — or on an indirect route, for that matter. Goulding’s was 60 nautical miles away by air. That was a little over 30 minutes of flight time.

Of course, the wind was howling from the west, making a good tailwind.

If I didn’t go to Monument Valley, I’d not only have to get a room in Page on a Saturday night but I’d have to get to the room and then get back to the airport about an hour before dawn for departure. And I’d have to fly a route I’d never flown before in the predawn light. None of that sounded good to me.

What did sound good was checking into Goulding’s and getting a good night’s sleep.

If I flew out, I’d have to leave by 5 PM. I made my decision at 4:30.

Ah, Tailwinds

At 4:45, I was sitting in my helicopter on the ground, pointed into the wind. My airspeed indicator needle moved from 0 to over 20 knots. While I was parked.

The helicopter shook in the gusts.

One of the dangers of starting an R44 in gusty conditions is the remote possibility of a gust pushing up the front blade while the blades are just starting to spin up. At low RPM, there’s no centrifugal force on the blades to keep them up or out. The front blade goes up, the back blade comes down — and strikes the tailcone. Rare but possible. This is what I was thinking about as the blades started spinning up.

Of course, I didn’t have any problem. (Sometimes I really think I worry far too much.)

While the engine warmed up, I programmed the GPS using a user waypoint I’d created for Goulding’s on a previous flight. Being a private strip, it isn’t in the Garmin database.

A trio of Westwind Caravans were just returning from an exciting uplake flight when I took off.

I took off right over the ramp and hangars. I had plenty of lift with that headwind and light weight. Things were tricky for the first minute or two, but once I had a good climb and forward airspeed going, I was able to bank gently to the left. The wind pushed me sideways over town. I passed the Navajo Power Plant and headed east.

In no time at all, I had a 143 knot ground speed going. Not bad when I was indicating only about 110 knots airspeed.

My route would take me south of Navajo Mountain rather than uplake. The terrain was a mix of canyons and plateaus. I passed a few scattered ranches. On the southern slope of Navajo Mountains was an airstrip I’d seen on the chart and a few trailer homes with a well maintained dirt road. Otherwise, there wasn’t much in the way of civilization for 60 miles.

I hit turbulence each time I passed a butte or ridge. The wind tossed me around as if to say, “You’re nothing to Mother Nature, and don’t you forget it.” I reduced power each time I hit a nasty spot, then came back up to speed when it smoothed out. I wanted to be on the ground as soon as possible.

I approached Gouldings from the southwest, around the mesa behind it. The air seemed smoother as I followed the runway in. I was very surprised to see two brand new helipads. I moved over to one of them, let Mother Nature toss me around a little bit more, then set down, pointed into the wind.

More Surprises

My second surprise at Gouldings was that my cell phone worked. It turns out, they’d gotten a new cell tower. Although I couldn’t access the Internet — what do I want, everything? — my phone had a good strong signal. I used it to call home and let my husband know I’d arrived safely and to call Goulding’s and get a shuttle to the office from the landing strip.

The next surprise waited for me in the office: my client, Mike. He’d arrived only minutes before. He was shocked that I’d attempted the flight. He was also glad to see me. We’d fly the next day on schedule.

I checked into my room and Mike drove me back down to the airstrip. That’s where my room was: in the hangar adjacent to the landing strip. It’s a pretty big room with two double beds, a table and two chairs, a sofa, and a kitchen area with a stove, fridge, and sink. It doesn’t face the valley like the rest of the rooms at the lodge, but it’s comfortable and quiet and very private.

And it was all mine for three nights.

The Day Winds Down

I had to stand on one of the chairs I’d taken from my room to put the tie-downs on my blades. Where’s the junk plastic furniture when you need it? This chair was heavy!

After unpacking in my room — I hate living out of a suitcase and will always unpack anywhere I’m staying two or more nights — I walked up to the lodge. It’s probably about a 1/2 mile walk, half of which is up a gentle slope. I was still huffing and puffing at the restaurant at the top. They put me in a window seat and I had a very boring but very hearty dinner.

By the time I was finished, it was dark. Or maybe I should say DARK. You don’t know darkness until you’ve come to a relatively empty spot in the desert at night before the moon has risen. The wind was still blowing pretty good, too. The only light out at the airport was the one beside my door at the hangar. But there was a lot of dark ground to cover between the lodge and that light.

I stopped in the office for a ride down.

[composed in a hangar/hotel room while on a flying gig with ecto]

Flying, Travels with Maria aerial, Arizona, helicopters, Lake Powell, Page, photography, travel

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Rushing to Russians

Back in March, one of my regular clients booked Flying M Air for a 6-day flying gig in the Four Corners area. The job, which ran from September 28 through October 3, was to fly around a group of Russian photographers as part of a photo excursion. I’d fly them over Lake Powell from Page, AZ, then relocate to Monument Valley for several shoots there, then relocate to Shiprock, NM for several shoots there. This would be my biggest gig to date, with 20 or more billable hours. Best of all, I’d get to fly in some of the most beautiful places the southwest has to offer.

This is the account of that gig, one day at a time.

No Calm Before the Storm

I blew out of my house on Friday at 11:15 AM, 15 minutes later than I’d hoped to leave. My computer was still on, still uploading files of the book I’d just finished to Peachpit’s FTP server.

At the airport, I pulled the helicopter out, topped off both tanks with fuel, and put my tow equipment and Jeep into my hangar. I stopped by Ed’s hangar to let him know I was on my way out. Ed’s my Wickenburg mechanic. He had done an oil change in the helicopter two days before and he’s very conscientious. He likes to run up all aircraft and check for leaks after an oil change. But although I think he learned at the Robinson factory how to run up a helicopter’s engine (which does require engaging the clutch and turning the blades), he’s never been checked out pulling my helicopter out of the hangar, getting it off its tow equipment, etc. It’s a lot easier for him to just stand by while I do the first run-up. So he followed me out to the fuel island and hung around while I started the engine. He peeked under the hood at the filter, satisfied himself that nothing was leaking, and went about his business.

I took off for Page.

I had a kick-butt tailwind and made it to Page in record time. I listened to podcasts on the way up: Slate (I really enjoy the “Gabfest”) and Writing Tools (Roy Peter Clark).

At Page, the wind was blowing pretty hard from the south. I had a bit of a struggle getting the helicopter set down straight on the pad — it faces west — but managed.

Getting Down to Business

My first flight for Mike (short for Mikahil) was supposed to be at 4 PM, but the sky was partly cloudy and the photographers in his group wanted an earlier start before the light faded. There were just two women in the first group — nice and light — and we took off a little after 3 PM with all four doors off.

We started with a trip around Horseshoe Bend, which is south of the Glen Canyon Dam. It’s a neat spot where the river bends in the shape of a horseshoe. The canyon is deep there and the river is calm, green, and cold, having come from depths of Lake Powell. Lots of people like to see Horseshoe Bend, but I think the Goosenecks of the San Juan near Mexican Hat Utah are far more impressive. And the twists and turns in Lake Powell where the San Juan meets the Colorado are simply magnificent — as this photo, which I’ve used over and over again on this site (with apologies to regular readers) attests.

Of course, all of these places are best seen from the air, which is why the photographers hire me to fly them around.

From Horseshoe, we went past the Wahweap Marina and uplake. All of this has become almost routine to me, which is a shame. But what wasn’t routine was the turbulence I started hitting around Rock Creek. They were tough. I was flying at 5000 feet and, unfortunately, airplane tour traffic was flying at 5500 uplake and 6000 downlake, so climbing was not an option until we cleared them. So we got tossed around. I really hate flying in turbulence, especially at the end of a week where I had three consecutive 14-hour days in front of a computer. I was run down and didn’t feel like dealing with it.

But I didn’t have a choice, so I kept flying. The planes all turned around at Dangling Rope Marina, which should have sent me a message. But I plodded on and brought my passengers past Rainbow Bridge. That’s where we hit the worst of the turbulence and I decided to avoid that spot on the next flight.

One of the reasons the air was so bad was because of Navajo Mountain. This is a big fat mountain rising five or six thousand feet out of the 4000+ foot terrain. (I’ll save you the math: it’s over 10,000 feet tall.) It’s south of the area we were flying through and creates a funnel for wind from the south. Add a few buttes and you’ve got wind blowing all over the place.

Once we passed Navajo Mountain, things calmed down a bit. The air smoothed out and I was able to show my passengers a few neat spots, including Reflection Canyon (no reflections in all that rough water) and the aforementioned confluence of the San Juan River. But then it was time to go back — the same way we’d come — and we were kicked around like a cork in a martini shaker.

The next three passengers were waiting when I returned. I ordered fuel and took a moment to claim my rental car. Then I went out for more of the same. Except this time, when things started getting rough at Rock Creek, I decided that’s as far as I’d go. So we spent their 1+ hour of flight time closer to home, going only as far as Gregory Butte. My passengers seemed happy enough. I couldn’t ask them because none of them spoke English.

Finally: Rest — Sort Of

After dropping them off, I put the doors back on, ordered more fuel for the morning flight, claimed my luggage at the FBO and made my way to the Best Western, where Mike had reserved a room for me. It was quite comfortable, but would have been better if housekeeping hadn’t used so much of that damn air freshener shit they like to spray around and if it had a balcony so I could step outside to breathe.

I went to Ken’s for dinner. It’s right behind the hotel. I ate at the bar and had a Grey Goose martini with my baby back ribs. Afterward, I walked to Safeway for bottled water and some snacks. It turned out to be twice as far as I thought, but I could use the exercise. The streets were full of tourists walking around. Page doesn’t have a nice little downtown area like some towns do, so I guess they were all just walking to or from dinner or Safeway, like I was.

It was a weird, end of season evening in a tourist town.

[composed in a hangar/hotel room while on a flying gig with ecto]

Flying, Travels with Maria aerial, Arizona, helicopters, Lake Powell, Page, photography, travel

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