Author Archives: Maria Langer

Chasing Desert Racers

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At the Best in the Desert/BlueWater Parker 425.

I spent this past Saturday doing one of the things I really love to do: chasing racecars with a helicopter.

The venue was the Best in the Desert Racing Association’s BlueWater Resort & Casino Parker 425, which featured highly modified trucks, cars, and buggies racing on a 140+ mile dirt track through the desert. My client was a television producer who videos these events from multiple cameras and turns them in TV shows. For this event, they had a total of 15 cameras, includibut thingsng one in my helicopter and several in the trucks out on the course.

I flew the helicopter with the cameraman and my husband, Mike, working as a spotter, on board. The cameraman sat behind me with his door off. Mike sat beside me.

We started before dawn at the Parker Airport. I started up at 7 sharp and was warmed up and ready to fly by 7:15. The police escort was leading the 300+ participant vehicles to the starting line on Route 95 in downtown Parker when we began circling about 500 feet overhead. The cameraman had a list of 15 targets he needed to video. The first one was the 15th truck in line at the start. Racers were released 30 seconds apart. When our first target was released, the fun began.

Desert Racing TruckI chased the car down the paved road and onto the dirt track, descending as I left the downtown area. Soon, we were racing beside it just 70 feet up on the long straightaway that heads due east. Mike kept an eye out for wires, calling them out as he saw them. My attention was split between the truck, the wires, and the track in front of me. I worked the cyclic and collective hard, climbing, descending, slowing, speeding up. Both arms and legs worked automatically to make the helicopter do what I needed it to do. Spectators below me went by in a blur. The track made a 90 degree turn to the left and I paused at the inside of the curve just long enough to pivot so the cameraman could keep the camera on the target. Then down the short straightaway to the edge of a steep drop with high wires on one side. The truck descended the hill while I climbed over the wires. I met the truck on the other side and we raced together through a tree-filled dry wash.

“Okay, peel off,” the cameraman instructed.

I turned away from the target and followed the road back. Now we had to find the next target. All we had were numbers — we didn’t know much about how the vehicle looked, other than what class it was in. I had to fly low enough to see them. The first one of us to see a number, called it out. We got the next target halfway back to town. I lowered the collective to slow down and made a sharp 180 degree turn. Then I was on that truck, following it to the wires and into the wash.

We repeated this process about seven or eight times, each time picking up our target a little farther away on the track and ending a little farther down the track. I got to know exactly where all the wires were. Sometimes, I’d look down in time to see a spectator wave up at us or snap a photo. I think there were more photos taken of us that day than of any one racer.

This went on for over an hour.

Then, suddenly we could no longer find any of the targets we needed to video. That started a search up and down the track, flying low enough to read the numbers. Every once in a while, the cameraman would pick out a “trophy truck” or a vehicle driven by someone well-known, and ask me to follow it. I’d follow as closely as I dared, putting the cameraman close to the action. Inside the helicopter, through our noise-reduced headsets, we could sometimes hear the engines of the racers below us or the sirens of the vehicles preparing to pass. We watched one driver slip off the track and race along beside it, scattering spectators who had been standing too close. We shot some video of a modified Hummer flying through the air after a particularly bad bump.

I suppose I should mention here that I wasn’t the only helicopter at the event. There were at least five others: 2 R44s, an Astar, a Eurocopter, and a Bell Jet Ranger. In most cases, they’d been hired to follow a specific race vehicle or team. Once they left the area, they didn’t come back for a while. So keeping an eye out for aircraft wasn’t a serious issue.

After two hours, we headed back to the airport. I shut down and placed a fuel order. Then we drove over to the BlueWater Casino for breakfast. The cameraman the cameraman met with some of the folks he works with to see how many vehicles on his list were still in the race. Each vehicle had a transponder and satellite communications device so it could be tracked from headquarters at the Casino. According to the cameraman, fewer than 50% of the vehicles finish the race. Most of them break. And if you saw the track, you’d understand why.

With an updated list, we headed out again just before noon. We were expecting one of the target vehicles in the pit area, so we stayed nearby. There was a “serpentine” area just east of the airport, with winding, bumpy tracks in a big field surrounded by spectators. I think there was about 5 miles of road there, and it was so twisty that even from the air, I had trouble figuring out the route. We spent about 15 minutes there, filming the action of vehicles skidding around the sandy curves, throwing dust high up into the air. At some point, I realized that I was probably putting on a better show for the spectators than the cars and trucks were.

We spotted a target vehicle as he was leaving the pits and took off after him. More chasing at low level, avoiding wires, slowing when the truck slowed, speeding up when it speeded up. We peeled off and continued down the track, looking for more targets. That’s when we started seeing the breakdowns. Trucks and cars and buggies on the side of the road with parts peeled off of them and drivers bent over their innards. One team was changing a tire. Another was taking the hood off the car. We saw a fender alongside the track. Later, we saw a prone driver with his companion performing CPR. (The rumor I heard was the driver suffered a heart attack or stroke while driving and died on the race course. I have not been able to confirm this yet.)

Desperate to find one last vehicle on the cameraman’s list and looking for exciting footage, we followed the entire 140-mile course. It stretched from Parker through the empty desert as far east as Cunningham Pass (north of Wenden) and around Planet Peak (near the Bill Williams River) to the northwest. This much-reduced map gives you an idea of the distance — I’ve highlighted the track in light red so it’s easier to see.

Parker 425 Map

Much of the course was pretty boring from my point of view — lots of long, straight stretches. In one area, the road ran alongside a set of high tension power lines, making it tough to get low enough to see car numbers. But things got interesting on the last 4 or so miles, when the track headed into the mountains south of the Bill Williams River. The cameraman got some excellent footage of a car winding its way down a narrow canyon. I had to stay high — there wasn’t enough room for me to fly alongside it. But when the canyon opened, I dropped down so he could get some close-up shots.

After trying a few more times to find the missing buggy — we were in touch by radio with the satellite tracking people — we headed back to the airport and I shut down.

We’d flown a total of 5.0 hours. The sky had clouded up and lighting wasn’t as good as it had been earlier in the day. Although we’d planned a third flight for the finishers, the cameraman. The cameraman decided to skip it.

It had been a great day. Not only did I do a lot of flying, but it was the kind of flying I really love to do — challenging, exciting, and with a goal other than going from point A to point B.

Why can’t all my gigs be like this one?

Note: If you were at the 2008 Parker 425 in February and have photos or video footage of a plain red helicopter (no stripe) flying with the cars, please let me know. I’d love to show them off with this post or elsewhere on this site.

February 7, 2008 Update: I added a photo Mike took during the flight to give a better idea of what was going on at Parker.

How I Burned My Fingers

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Simple: I did a dumb thing.

About a week ago Thurdsay, while making dinner, I burned the first three fingers on my left hand. Since then, the burns have gone through a series of nasty, ugly, painful stages. They’re healing now, though, because I finally started taking care of them.

How I burned them is an example of how relatively smart people can do seriously dumb things. In this case, I’d put about a half cup of water in a 1-cup Pyrex measuring cup and stuck the thing in the microwave to boil. I always boil water in a microwave (if one is available). I wasn’t thinking very well — there was a lot on my mind (as usual) — and hit the Minute Plus button twice. So when I removed the cup of boiling water 2 minutes later, it wasn’t just boiling — it was superheated. As I was moving it from the microwave to the counter top, I added about 1 teaspoon of beef bullion powder. The superheated water immediate boiled over the top of the cup and onto my fingers. I put the cup on the counter, shook the hot water off my hands, and proceeded to clean up the mess I’d made on the countertop, cabinets, and floor.

I didn’t realize how badly I’d been burned until much later. It hurt, of course, but I was busy doing other things and tried hard not to pay attention. Later, I bought some Bactine and kept spraying it down. The skin was red, but I didn’t think much about it.

The next day, my forefinger was blistered and puffy. My middle finger also looked pretty bad. More Bactine. I was volunteering at an equine endurance ride and I was busy. The blisters burst and reformed multiple times. (Hope I’m not grossing you out too much.) It wasn’t until the weekend was over and I really had a chance to clean up and look at my fingers that I realized how badly I’d been burned. My first two fingers probably had second degree burns.

I won’t go into more gross details about the skin on my fingers and the stages it went through. I will say that I finally started putting Neosporin (a triple-antibacterial salve, for those of you who aren’t familiar with it) on my first two fingers and wrapping them in special knuckle bandages. If I’d done that a week ago, I’d be all healed up. But I didn’t, so I’m not.

I’ll probably be almost as good as new within a few days. I suspect, however, that my forefinger will be scarred because of my stupidity. No hand modeling in my future.

Lessons learned: put containers of boiling water on the countertop before adding ingredients.

Quick Note to Commenters

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Comments are moderated.

Because of the amount of spam and the number of inappropriate comments this site receives, all comments from new commenters are moderated.

Much of the moderation is done automatically with spam prevention software. This software will automatically delete comments coming from blacklisted IP addresses, comments containing too many links, comments containing certain “bad” words, multiple comments submitted from the same IP address or commenter within a short period of time, and comments meeting other proven criteria that I don’t know or really care about.

This two-layer automated spam prevention system catches over 5000 spam comments to my four blog-based sites each day. This gives you an idea of just how bad the problem is. It should also help you understand why I don’t manually review every single comment myself.

The few comments that get through the automated system are manually reviewed. A few of them are true spam that I delete.

Others are comments by visitors who seem to have commented solely to advertise their business or service. Even if these comments are appropriate, if the commenter name field contains a company name or Web site name, that comment will be deleted. My blog-based sites do not exist for other people to advertise their products or services. If you don’t use your name or something that looks like your name in the Commenter Name field of the comment form, don’t expect your comment to appear here. Exceptions are possible but very rare.

Finally, a handful of other comments are nasty or inappropriately critical, abusive to me or other commenters. I don’t take that crap from anyone, especially on my blogs. If you have something critical to say, say it nicely. Don’t bash me or others by calling us names or insulting us.

The comments that make it through this entire moderation process are the ones that appear on the site.

Keep in mind that I go through the manual moderation process every 12 to 72 hours, so you might have to wait up to 3 days for a comment to appear. It all depends on how busy I am and whether I have a good Internet connection when on the road. Be patient.

I’d love it if more commenters would sign up for Gravatars so their custom icons would appear beside their comments.

I really appreciate reader comments, especially those that add to conversation here on this blog. I hope those of you who comment continue to do so. And I hope this message encourages those of you who have not yet commented to add your thoughts as comments to posts on this site.

Defining "Tragedy"

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More humor from the ‘Net.

Here’s another funny I got from a friend. I don’t know where he got it, but if this belongs to someone who doesn’t want it shared, let me know and I’ll pull it down.

George Bush and Dick Cheney, while visiting a primary school class, found themselves in the middle of a discussion related to words and their meanings.

The teacher asked both men if they would like to lead the discussion of the word “tragedy.” So Mr. Cheney asks the class for an example of a “tragedy.”

One little boy stood up and offered: “If my best friend, who lives on a farm, is playing in the field and a runaway tractor comes along and knocks him dead, that would be a tragedy.”

“No,” said Mr. Cheney, “that would be an accident.”

A little girl raised her hand: “If a school bus carrying 50 children drove over a cliff, killing everyone inside, that would be a tragedy.”

“I’m afraid not,” explained Mr. Bush. “That’s what we would call a great loss.”

The room goes silent. No other children volunteered.

Mr. Bush searched the room. “Isn’t there someone here who can give me an example of a tragedy?”

Finally at the back of the room little Johnny raises his hand. In a stern voice he says, “If a plane carrying the President and Vice President of the United States were struck by a missile and blown to smithereens that would be a tragedy.”

“Fantastic!” exclaimed both men nearly in unison. Mr. Cheney continued “That’s right. And can you tell me why that would be a tragedy?”

“Well,” says little Johnny, “because it sure as hell wouldn’t be a great loss, and it probably wouldn’t be an accident either.”

The Super Bowl is Coming!

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Developments around the University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale.

I’ve been doing flight training down at Glendale Airport for the past few weeks, working on my Instrument Rating at Silver State Helicopters. Two or three times a week, I drive or fly down there in the afternoon, spend a few hours sitting in a simulator trailer with a flight instructor, and fly or drive home.

The drive is long and boring. I found the best route though, thanks to my friends Ray and Robbie: Grand Avenue to Litchfield Road to Glendale Avenue to the airport. I can do it in just over an hour sometimes. It’s about 50 miles each way.

University of Phoenix StadiumGlendale Airport is just 3 miles or so from the University of Phoenix Stadium, where Super Bowl XLII will be held this Sunday. The other day, while waiting for the Glendale Tower controller to clear me across the runway, I overflew the stadium area. The grass was outside, looking rich and green. The top of the stadium was closed. A ferris wheel was under construction in the parking lot on the west side of the stadium and there were lots of party tents and other things going up.

The Super Bowl is apparently Glendale‘s chance at the “big time” and they’re doing everything they can to make it a big party.

At the airport, things are also changing. Glendale Aviation, which had been the FBO there for years, expanded its building and added a corporate hangar large enough to accommodate three small jets. (At least that’s how it looks to me.) It’s now called LuxAir — I guess you need a foo-foo name to attract football fans arriving by jet. Of course, since it’s the only real FBO there, there’s no competition at the airport. It’ll probably make enough money this weekend to cover the cost of the building addition and more. But it couldn’t have been timed any better; crews are probably putting on the finishing touches inside as I type this.

Last week, the ramp was completely full of small airplanes, like Cessnas and Pipers. Apparently, the guy who owns the hangars and shades evicted everyone while doing some upgrades, then raised the rents beyond what local pilots were willing to pay. Few planes went back. I guess their owners would rather roast their wings in the hot Arizona sun. But yesterday, the ramp was almost empty. They’d moved all the little planes under the shades or to the more remote parts of the ramp, leaving plenty of room for incoming jets. Even the DC3 that had been sitting there for months (if not years) had been towed to the far reaches of the airport ramp, tucked into a spot between the hangars and perimeter fence like a broken down truck in someone’s yard.

Inside the terminal, the lobby area’s furniture — a mixture of chairs and tables normally used by one of the flight schools for training and briefing — have been removed. In their place are leather chairs and tables, arranged in little chat groups. I can’t tell you how comfortable they are because I don’t know. They’ve roped the whole thing off with yellow caution tape so no one sits on them until the big money starts arriving. I’m willing to bet that next week, when I return, all that nice furniture is gone.

It’s almost as if Glendale Airport is putting on airs, like Scottsdale Airport.

Glendale Airport’s restaurant, which had been closed for months, reopened last week. It’s the same old place, but with new owners. I haven’t eaten there, so I can’t rate it. I’m sure they expect to do a good business over the weekend. Rumor has it that they’re going to do a buffet. Rumor also leads me to believe that they’re doing a buffet because they can’t deal with table service and they’re taking the easy way out.

Yesterday was my last afternoon at Glendale Airport until after the big event. I canceled Friday’s lesson so I could get an early start out to my weekend gig in Parker, AZ, chasing race vehicles around a desert racetrack with a film crew on board. Wickenburg is one of two area airports outside the 30-mile TFR (Temporary Flight Restriction) that’ll kick in around Glendale on Sunday afternoon, before the game, so even if I get back late on Sunday afternoon, I don’t have to worry about landing at my home base.

But I doubt whether Wickenburg will see the big jets. There’s plenty of room at Glendale and, thanks to the inability of Wickenburg’s Airport Consultants and Manager to plan for the future, only two jet parking spaces at Wickenburg Airport.

The above image of University of Phoenix Stadium is from Wikipedia and is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 2.0 License (cc-by-sa-2.0). In short: you are free to share and make derivative works of the file under the conditions that you appropriately attribute it, and that you distribute it under this or a similar cc-by-sa license.