Don’t give in to client pressure.

Yesterday, I got a call from a potential client for my charter services. He’d seen my Two Winery Tour on the Flying M Air website. The tour starts in Wenatchee and goes to two wineries for wine tasting: Tsillan Cellars in Chelan and Cave B Winery in Quincy (or George?). The flight costs $995 for up to three passengers and includes up to 90 minutes of flight time, as well as pilot wait time.

I’ll admit it here: I’ve never actually done this tour. I’ve taken people to both wineries, but never the same people on the same day. I think it’s just too expensive for most folks. So when this guy — I’ll call him Hal — wanted to do the tour, I was very interested in making it happen.

There was some back and forth about where I’d pick him up. At first, he wanted me to come get him at a friend’s place in Leavenworth. Of course, I had no way of knowing whether the landing zone would be suitable without actually going up there — 40 road miles each way from my home — to check it out. And then there was the fact that it would add to my flight time and I’d have to charge him extra for that. We finally agreed that I’d pick him up at the airport in Cashmere, which was only about 5 minutes out of my way. I’d make up the flight time in the air.

My final step was getting the passenger names and weights for my flight manifest and weight and balance calculation. For some reason, I’d assumed that it was just him and wife or girlfriend. I was wrong. It was going to be three guys: Hal at 225 pounds, Mike at 180 pounds, and Nick at 215 pounds. Of course, he was guessing at Mike and Nick’s weights.

“Wait a second,” I said as I jotted down the numbers. “I think we have a weight issue.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I saw on your website that the maximum passenger weight was 600 pounds.”

I added up the numbers he’d given me and arrived at a total of 620. I was trying to understand how he thought 620 might be lower than 600. And that didn’t even include the fact that he was probably lying about his own weight — everyone does — and had guessed incorrectly about his friends’ weights. I was willing to bet the total weight was at least 40 pounds higher.

“I can’t do it,” I said. “We’d be over max gross weight with the fuel I’d have to carry for the flight.”

He suggested just going to one winery. I could take less fuel.

I didn’t need to do the math or consult my pilot operating manual’s performance charts to know that it wouldn’t be much better. I was thinking about the two landing zones (LZs), both of which are in semi-confined spaces. I didn’t think I’d have a problem landing, but I knew I’d have a problem taking off, especially if I had a tailwind. Both LZs were surrounded by low but considerable obstacles — fences and/or rows of grape vines — that I’d have to clear on my takeoff run. Beyond those obstacles in certain directions were tall trees, making them impractical for departure routes.

As I always did when I considered the situation — flying heavy on a summer day from an off-airport LZ — I thought about the 2007 crash of a Robinson R44 Raven II in Easton, WA. In that crash, the pilot had attempted a takeoff on a hot day with three full-sized passengers on board. I can almost hear the low rotor RPM horn screaming in my ear when I read the description of the helicopter wobbling in flight as it struggled to gain or altitude over rough terrain. She just didn’t have enough power or skill or friendly wind to help her get airborne. I hope it was the crash that killed them and not the fire. I didn’t want to be in an accident report like that one.

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So I said no, I couldn’t do the flight.

Hal seemed surprised. He told me he’d talk to his companions to see if he got their weights wrong. I knew he got them wrong, but I also knew that he’d understated them. I knew the only way he’d call back is if one of them decided not to go. But he didn’t call back. And I admit that I’m kind of glad.

A hungry operator who is willing to bend rules and ignore aircraft limitations might have accepted the flight. But I’ll never be hungry enough to risk my life to make a client happy.

No responsible, safety-conscious pilot ever should.