Unanticipated Yaw

Some comments about one of Robinson Helicopter’s latest Safety Notices.

In May 2013, Robinson Helicopter issued Safety Notice SN-42, Unanticipated Yaw. It said, in part:

A pilot’s failure to apply proper pedal inputs in response to strong or gusty winds during hover or low-speed flight may result in an unanticipated yaw. Some pilots mistakenly attribute this yaw to loss of tail rotor effectiveness (LTE), implying that the tail rotor stalled or was unable to provide adequate thrust. Tail rotors on Robinson helicopters are designed to have more authority than many other helicopters and are unlikely to experience LTE.

I discuss LTE a bit in my 2009 blog post, “How Much Wind is Too Much Wind?” You can also learn about it on Wikipedia and in the FAA-published Helicopter Flying Handbook.

Bell 206 Tail Rotor
Bell 206 helicopters have dinky tail rotor blades. (Photo Credit: Dakota Air Parts.)

Robinson points out that its helicopters are designed to have more authority than many other helicopters. This is partly because Frank Robinson worked for Bell, which has notoriously poor tail rotor authority, where he became known as a “tail rotor expert.”

I experienced the difference between tail rotor authority in a Robinson vs. another helicopter firsthand in 2004, when I flew Bell 206 Long Rangers at the Grand Canyon. After years and at least 1200 hours experience flying Robinsons, I was in a quartering tailwind at the Papillon helipads one day and got into LTE. I pressed the pedal enough to stop the rotation in a Robinson, but the yaw didn’t stop — I wasn’t flying a Robinson. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to press harder on the pedal and get the situation under control before the rotation had reached a full 90°. It taught me a very valuable lesson about unanticipated yaw.

Robinson’s Safety Notices are normally issued in response to specific accidents. I went fishing on the NTSB website and discovered this April 2012 accident. Probable cause was issued on May 23, 2013 and that would be the right timing for a Safety Notice to appear. (Of course, I can’t be certain whether this is the accident that sparked the new Safety Notice. It’s just a guess on my part.)

From the report summary:

The helicopter slowed as it approached the landing zone on a modified right-base turn to the north. Gusting wind from the south had prevailed for most of the day and was present at the time of the accident. As the pilot turned to “enter the landing area,” he felt a “bump” in the tail rotor control pedals. The pilot added that he applied left pedal to compensate for a right yaw, and the helicopter immediately “started to rotate” at an increasing yaw rate with full left pedal applied. The pilot stated that the rotation stopped when he pushed the collective control “full down” and applied aft cyclic. The helicopter then descended through the trees and collided with terrain. Examination of the wreckage revealed no evidence of pre-impact mechanical anomaly.

The accident report goes on to provide general information about LTE. The Full Narrative refers to FAA Advisory Circular (AC) 90-95 “Unanticipated Right Yaw in Helicopters.” It also refers to Robinson Safety Notice SN-34, Photo Flights – Very High Risk as it pertains to settling with power, reduced RPM, and the loss of tail rotor thrust in low RPM situations. All of this is good reading to learn more about LTE and tail rotor operation.

It’s in low-speed situations that tail rotor effectiveness can be lost. At higher speeds, the helicopter points into the wind via normal “weathervaning.” The vertical stabilizer on the end of the tail helps make this happen. But at lower speeds, especially when turning into a tailwind, the force of the wind can easily cause the helicopter to yaw. The pilot must react quickly and firmly to stop and correct the yaw.

Experience teaches us. Years ago, I was doing a long cross-country flight with a 300-hour pilot who had just gotten his CFI. He was landing at San Luis Obispo (SBP), sitting in the left seat while I sat in the right. There was some yaw and I think he tried to correct it with the pedals. But then he panicked and said that something was wrong, that the pedals weren’t working.

I don’t recall the yaw being very bad. We were still moving along at a good clip, barely over the runway and likely doing at least 50-60 knots. I told him to push the pedal and he claimed he was and that it wasn’t working. He was visibly upset. I offered to take the controls and he agreed. I pushed the appropriate pedal and the helicopter immediately straightened. I landed without incident.

When I read this Safety Notice, I immediately thought of that low time pilot’s approach to landing and my own experience, years before, at the Grand Canyon. In both cases, we’d initially failed to use enough pedal to correct the yaw. The difference is, while I’d added more pedal when necessary, the low-time pilot had assumed there was a problem with the aircraft without trying harder to correct the yaw.

I have to wonder whether the accident pilot was in the same situation. After all, probable cause put the blame firmly on him:

The pilot’s inadequate compensation for wind during a high-power, low-speed downwind turn, which resulted in a loss of control due to loss of tail rotor effectiveness and settling with power. Contributing to the accident was the pilot’s decision to land downwind.

I guess the takeaway from all this can be summed up as follows: We always need to be aware of potential control issues, especially when operating at low speeds in crosswind or downwind situations. Yaw should never be “unanticipated.” It’s the pilot’s responsibility to keep control of the aircraft at all times by avoiding situations that could result in control issues and to use aircraft controls properly.

Helicopter Pilot Reality Check

Another message from a reader; he gets it, too.

I just wanted to share another message from a reader, along with some comments. Here’s the message; I did get permission from its author to share it here:

Hello, Ms. Langer. My name is XXX, I’m from Los Angeles, CA, and I’m 27. I just got out of the Army back in January after eight years of service, and I’m kind of lost. Don’t worry, I’m not here for guidance, or advice. I just wanted to thank you for your “So you want to be a helicopter pilot” articles. Though short and concise, they are a substantial truth in the sea of opinions and “knowledge” that is the internet. I have been considering using my GI Bill on flight training, thinking it would be a great way to make 80 thousand a year right out the gate. I knew in my heart of hearts that there had to be more to it, though, and I was right. Thank you for the reality check, the information, and for putting things in perspective. I’m still strongly considering it, but can now make a better informed decision. I believe nothing worthwhile is accomplished without paying your dues or overcoming challenges to get there. Your articles took the “too easy to be true” out of my mindset. Thank you.

(Emphasis added; more on that later.)

Messages like this one are part of the reason why I blog about my thoughts, feelings, and experiences as a pilot. I want to share what I know (or think I know) with other pilots and folks who want to be pilots.

He’s referring to my series of blog posts titled “So You Want to Be a Helicopter Pilot.” Originally written about two years ago, I’m preparing to update, revise, and expand the series and turn it into an ebook. It’s my attempt to inject a dose of reality into the whole helicopter pilot career discussion — a discussion that has been fraught with fallacies.

False Advertising

News Travels Fast

I still remember how I heard of Silver State’s demise. I’d been using their maintenance services for my helicopter. Early — before 8 AM — on a Monday morning, my FAA POI (Primary Operations Inspector) called me. “Do you have possession of your helicopter?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “It’s in my hangar.” I remember feeling a moment of panic. Was it in my hangar? Or somewhere else? Why was the FAA calling me? “Or it should be,” I added quickly. “Why?”

He replied, “Silver State went out of business yesterday. They locked up all their facilities. I just wanted to make sure your helicopter wasn’t locked inside their hangar.”

To this day, I wonder what kind of ordeal I would have been put through to get my helicopter out of their hangar if it had been in there that weekend.

I blame Silver State Helicopters, the now-defunct pilot mill, an organization with a pyramid scheme as its business plan. Some readers might remember this company, which locked it doors on Super Bowl Sunday in February 2008, just days after conning another two (from what I heard) students into signing up.

Silver State was well known for conducting helicopter pilot career seminars at auditoriums all over the country. They’d run radio ads to advertise the events, luring people in with promises of $80K salaries as helicopter pilots. I never attended an event, but I was told that it wasn’t uncommon for them to put several helicopters with flight-suited pilots on stage in front of their audience. They’d paint a picture of a glamour job with a big paycheck. All you had to do was agree to pay $70K to $80K (prices varied) to go through their program. They had financing — I believe they used Key Bank — available at the event and even promised to hire all students as flight instructors to get them started on their career path.

Hundreds of people fell for their sales pitch and signed up. (Let’s face it: Who wouldn’t want to be a helicopter pilot making $80K/year? Cool job, great paycheck. Double win, no?) This enabled the company to keep expanding, adding more locations and more helicopters. They also started churning out more and more pilots. They used tomorrow’s revenue to pay for yesterday’s growth, relying on a constant, ever-growing stream of new students to stay solvent. They built their own bubble which was doomed to burst when financing became expensive and pilot jobs became scarce.

Meanwhile, the pilots in the program soon realized that the $80K jobs they thought would be available when they got their pilot ratings weren’t within reach. They needed experience. And while Silver State did hire them as flight instructors, when a flight school has as many instructors as students, it’s tough for any of those instructors to actually get any flight time. So not only did the company flood the market with pilots, but it created its own bottleneck for pilots who needed to build time. And although some folks reading this might disagree, many employers questioned the quality of a Silver State education and simply would not hire the school’s graduates, even if they did have enough flight time to qualify for a pilot position.

Unfortunately, even after Silver State folded, other flight training operations persisted in using their formula to attract students with promises of high paying jobs while glossing over the fact that thousands of hours of flight experience is required to get those jobs. That’s the “80 thousand” referred to in the email quoted above.

Reality Check

And that’s why I wrote my “So You Want to Be a Helicopter Pilot” series. I wanted people to get an idea of what it was really like to train to be a helicopter pilot. Each part of the series explores another aspect of what’s important to build a career as a pilot.

The part people seem to have the most trouble with is the part about getting experience before you can step into a good job. I cover that in Part 9: Pay Your Dues. People just don’t get it. Or they don’t want to get it.

Just last week, I saw the following post on a Women Helicopter Pilot group on Facebook:

Seems like the only realistic way for us ladies who recently finished flight school at commercial level is to slave by being an instructor first to ever build over 1000 hours to be employed by any company. I understand you learn a lot but I have no patience to teach, hence I didn’t sign up to be a helicopter instructor. What’s left to do?

I took great offense at this comment. The author seemed to insinuate that it was just women who needed to build 1,000 hours of flight time to get a decent pilot job. She used the word “slave” to imply that it would be a great ordeal to build those 1,000 hours as a flight instructor. She made it clear that she didn’t do her homework or ignored the reality presented to her: that it’s very common for all pilots — men or women, fixed wing or helicopter — to work as flight instructors to build the almost universally required minimum of 1,000 hours PIC time to secure an entry level pilot job.

And just the other day I got an email message from a blog reader that said:

my name is XXX, and i have currently got 100 hours on the R22, and am looking for some sort of way to build my hours up or for much cheaper. very passionate about flying. I’m a single man, 23 years of age and willing to go where ever is needed. please may you assist me by just directing me in the right path?

He’s kidding, right? He’s a 100-hour pilot and he’s looking for cheap flying time? Does he realize he’s standing in line behind several thousand people with the same passion and goal, most of whom at least bothered to finish commercial training to move forward?

Hell, even I’m looking for cheap flying time — it’s gotten to the point where I can’t afford to fly my own helicopter without someone paying for the flight time.

But the comment that sticks to me after many years is the one posted on my 2009 blog post, “How to Start Your Own Helicopter Charter Business.” I wrote the post after getting too many messages from wannabe pilots who saw owning and operating their own business as a shortcut to building a career as a helicopter pilot. These guys didn’t want to pay their dues. I made it pretty clear what they would pay instead in that post.

The comment said:

I have read all of your blogs and wannabe pilots and their dreams and aspirations. I will tell you of my plans, and I am sure you will shoot them down like a kamikazee pilot barreling down at your aircraft carrier. I saw and understand your step by step approach to the biz. It sounds as if you discourage the thought of anyone even pursuing the dream. like its a complete waste of time. My best friend and I are recently both divorced, and have no pilots license..period, starting from scratch with our good credit and 401k in tact, we wanted to go to panama…the country and start this Helicopter tour business…very little to no competition. We wanted to start an exciting business and this seemed the one. We are willing to hire a pilot for us initially and front the startup, then get our license along the way…what do you think? Hold on….let me get my boxing head gear on, and my bullet proof vest, and my sport cup…hold on…there, got my hockey mask on now too…ok Maria…give it to me…dont hold back! Tell me what I dont want to hear, but need to hear…you got any positive advice as well? thanks

It sounds as if I’m discouraging people? By introducing a dose of reality? By pointing out that things aren’t as rosy as you might believe? By explaining that it’s costly to get started? By reminding readers that they have to work hard and pay their dues to succeed?

This comment got under my skin. It made me realize that no matter how much I try to help people by sharing my advice and observations and experience, if what I have to say doesn’t match their preconceived notions, I’m just “shooting them down” and “killing their dreams.” (This comment was especially ridiculous because the author didn’t seem to have any insight into the helicopter tour business he was hoping to start with a partner in another country. WTF?)

Do you think a person with an attitude like that will get far in any field?

Whatever.

Back to the Message that Prompted this Post

Anyway, the message I got the other day (refer to the quoted text at the beginning of this post) made me feel good. Someone was listening, someone was trying to use the information I shared to help make an educated career decision.

Like the person who wrote to me last month, this guy gets it. He understands that you have to work to achieve a goal. He understands that any goal worth achieving has challenges.

This guy has the right attitude. He’ll succeed in anything he sets out to do — even becoming a helicopter pilot, if that’s what he wants.

I’m not going to say that it’s impossible to make $80K as a helicopter pilot. I know pilots who make that much and more. But they worked hard to get ahead in their chosen field. They built hours and skills. They had the right attitude; they made their employers want to invest in their training. They proved themselves worthy of the positions they were put into, year after year.

But what I really want to make people understand is this: The only reason you should pursue any career is because you’re passionate about that work. Do not let earning potential — either real or imagined — make your career choice for you.

I made that mistake when I was starting out in college and beyond. I made great money but I was unhappy for the first 8 years of my working life. Life’s too short to be unhappy.

Wouldn’t you rather make a living wage doing the thing you’re passionate about doing?

So my advice to anyone who’s gotten this far in yet another long-winded blog post is this: pursue a helicopter pilot career only if you’re passionate about flying helicopters. If you put your heart and soul into it and you prove yourself worthy of the job, the money will come.

In the meantime, you’ll be doing what you want to do and every day will be its own reward.

Clive Cussler Doesn’t Know Much about Helicopters

Apparently, even best-selling authors can’t be bothered to do their homework.

Atlantis Found CoverIn my never-ending quest for light reading while I sit around in Wickenburg waiting for my marriage to be terminated, I picked up a copy of Atlantis Found by Clive Cussler from the library. This book features Cussler’s protagonist, Dirk Pitt, a man so outrageously skilled and lucky that he makes James Bond look as inept as Inspector Clouseau.

Hey, I did say I wanted light reading, didn’t I? (And yes, I do realize I was bitching about a supposed Cussler book just the other day.)

But no matter how light reading is, it really bugs me when an author gets something insanely wrong. Take, for example, this passage from the book:

Purchased by Destiny Enterprises from the Messerschmitt-Bolkow Corporation, the Bo 105LS-7 helicopter was designed and built for the Federal German Army primarily for ground support and paramilitary use. The aircraft chasing the Skycar carried a crew of two, and mounted twin engines that gave it a maximum speed of two hundred and eighty miles an hour. For firepower, it relied on a ventral-mounted, swiveling twenty millimeter cannon.

My helicopter pilot brain shouted “How fast?

You see, there’s a little thing called retreating blade stall which normally limits the airspeed of a helicopter. I don’t know of any helicopter capable of going 280 miles per hour. Certainly not one with a single main rotor system.

But hell, I’m not an expert. I’m just a pilot. What do I know?

Bo 105P
German Army BO 105P photo by Joey Quan.

So I looked it up the MBB Bo 105 on Wikipedia. And I scrolled down to the Specifications Section. And I learned the following specs:

  • Never exceed speed: 270 km/h (145 knots, 167 mph)
  • Maximum speed: 242 km/h (131 knots, 150 mph)
  • Cruise speed: 204 km/h (110 knots, 127 mph)

280 miles per hour? How about 150 miles per hour? That’s more reasonable.

And, coincidentally, it’s the never exceed speed for my Robinson R44 Raven II — although, admittedly, I don’t have any ventral-mounted, swiveling twenty millimeter cannons.

Come on, guys! Do your homework! I know it’s fiction, but when you discuss the capabilities of an aircraft that actually exists, how about getting it right?

This guy gets it. Do you?

More fodder from my inbox.

Yesterday, I was very pleased to find the following message in my email inbox (emphasis added):

Maria –

I’m not selling anything…and I’m not asking for anything =) I just wanted to drop a heartfelt “Thanks!” for what you’ve written. I’m a career Navy guy… I retire in a year and a half. I finally started my flight training this past Feb. Now that I’m on shore duty and not at sea, I have the time. Fortunately for me, the GI Bill is covering the cost of my flight training. It really is the realization of a lifelong goal. I *almost* had the opportunity to fly in the Navy, but my 31st birthday fell three weeks prior to receiving my BA. When you couple that with a backlog of Student Aviators pushed back in their training due to Hurricane Ivan, it meant… No age waiver approval for me. The Navy wouldn’t let me fly…

I never gave up though and while I had to put my flight training on the back burner when I was out to sea, it’s finally coming together now. It’s a poor choice for a second career, I know. However, there is just something about flying that draws me in and I can’t see myself doing anything else. I’ve perused the various forums throughout the years and despite all the negativity associated with anything related to pilot jobs… I’m still moving forward. I’m a firm believer that what you achieve in this life is directly proportional to what you put in.

So what’s the point? Thanks for posting up your perspective! Your blog is a goldmine of lessons learned and experience gained. I really enjoy reading it. It’s motivating for an “old guy” like me. Yes, I “get” that I should have started this career 20 years ago but it’s water under the bridge now. In any case, at least I’ll have my retirement pay to supplement the low wages :). Ultimately though, being satisfied with what I do rather than how much I make is what matters most. Thanks again for blogging!

Ryan

Now that’s what I call the right attitude.

Here’s a guy approaching retirement age — not quite sure what that is for career Navy guys, but I assume it’s past 40. He knows what his passion is. He knows that it’s not the best career choice if money is important. But money isn’t important to him and he’s going after his dream job, knowing that his retirement pay will supplement his pilot income. You have to have a lot of respect for someone like that.

I know I do. He’s in nearly the same boat I was in back in early 2000 at age 38. I was also fortunate enough to have another income to fall back upon as I worked my way up. I was chasing down a dream. Profits didn’t matter — at least at first while that second income was there for me. What mattered was rising to the challenge and doing something I really wanted to do — something I loved.

But what really struck me were the two sentences I highlighted in bold above.

I’m a firm believer that what you achieve in this life is directly proportional to what you put in.

This is the truth. There are many ways to go through life. One way is to “skate,” doing just as much as you need to glide forward on a satisfactory path. (I was married to a skater, although he didn’t think he was. But if he would have turned off the TV once in a while and spent that time learning and doing the things he needed to achieve his goals, he’d be in a happier place right now. I think we both would be. But that, too, is water under the bridge.)

The other way to go through life is to work hard and smart and to stay focused on your goals, doing whatever you need to do to achieve them. It’s not easy and it can be exhausting. I know this. I think Ryan does, too. But the rewards of all this work are worth all the effort.

The more you put into life, the more you get back from it.

Ultimately though, being satisfied with what I do rather than how much I make is what matters most.

This is another version of the old adage, “Do what you love.” If there was any one piece of advice I could give a young person, this would be it. Remember, if you’re not happy with what you do every day, you will not have happiness in life. Only by following your dreams and doing what matters most to you can you be really happy.

This is something I learned back in 1990, when I left a job I hated to start a freelance career. The way I see it, I wasted 8 years of my life. But what followed (so far) were 23 great years doing work I loved and achieving my goals. Ryan understands this, too.

Being happy at work is far better than making a lot of money at a job you don’t like.

Do you understand these things? When you do and you’re not afraid to let it guide your life, you’ll be on your way to a rich, fulfilling life, too.

Frost Control

I get a job but no experience.

In February, I got my first contract for a frost-control job in the Sacramento Valley of California. It was a 60-day contract and it only recently ended.

Frost control work is similar to cherry drying, but the contract — at least my contract — was very different. And this year, it offered no opportunity to fly and very little profit.

The Goal

Almond Trees in Full Bloom
These almond trees in one of my orchards are in full bloom. As you can see, they’re quite beautiful — especially when you see hundreds of acres of them. The contract starts right around this time.

The goal of frost control flying is to grab the warm air above the orchard in thermal inversion situations and suck it down into the trees. My client tells me that you can only do this for about 3 hours before the warm air is depleted.

As the almonds (or walnuts, if you’re doing them) are forming, they’re gelatinous and very susceptible to damage from frost. Each degree below 30° can knock off a significant percentage of the crop. This is serious business — serious enough to have enough helicopters on hand to protect the developing nuts.

My client hired 17 helicopters of various makes and models to protect its orchards this season. I was just one of them, positioned in Woodland, CA.

About the Flying

Like cherry drying, which I’ve done every summer for the past five seasons and hope to do again this summer (if I ever get out of Arizona), frost requires you to fly low-level over trees. But there are a few major differences:

  • Frost control flying is usually done at night. This means flying in the dark, although a flight could last until just after dawn. Let’s face it: cold weather comes at night, with the coldest weather just before dawn. (More on that in a moment.)
  • Frost control flying is usually done higher than cherry drying. My client told me approximately where he wanted me to fly, but also said that I needed to check my outside air temperature (OAT) gauge to make sure I was in the warmer air above the trees. This means anywhere from 20 to 50 feet off the ground.
  • Frost control flying is usually done faster than cherry drying. Again, my client advised me to operate at a speed of about 20 to 30 miles per hour. That’s right at ETL in my ship, which would make for an interesting flight. (I can’t remember any prolonged flying right at ETL.)

And if you’re a helicopter pilot, you probably realize that this altitude and airspeed combination still puts the aircraft right, smack dab in the middle of the deadman’s curve.

Flying in the Dark

But flying in the deadman’s curve doesn’t really bother me. I’m used to it. What does bother me, however, is flying in the dark.

Note that I didn’t say flying at night. I said flying in the dark. There’s a difference.

First of all, you need to understand that these orchards are in farm country. Some of them are huge, stretching across a section (square mile) of land. The only things in the orchard are usually the trees. Trees don’t need lights at night so there aren’t any. So the orchards are naturally dark at night.

When there’s any kind of moon, it really isn’t that dark. In fact, when the trees are in bloom and there’s a moon, you can see the trees from quite a distance up. It’s actually quite beautiful when there’s enough moonlight to see them.

But when there’s no moon — which is basically more than half the month (considering that flight is normally conducted between the hours of 3 AM to 7 AM) — everything is dark. Pitch black dark. And that’s where the real challenge is.

You see, the entire area is criss-crossed with power lines — the big “Bonnevilles” and smaller lines going to homes and shops. If you’re lucky enough to not have wires in your orchards — which I was — you still have to worry about the wires on the way to your orchard. So you’re flying at least 500 feet up to avoid the possibility of hitting wires.

You use a GPS to get to your orchard. When you think you’re right over it, you look down and, if there’s no moon, you don’t see anything except a black hole. You wonder whether the coordinates are for the center of the orchard or one corner. If a corner, which one? And how close are you really to those coordinates? You’re wondering this while you’re flying over the orchard, knowing you have to get way down there, just over the trees that you can’t see, and knowing that if you’re not where you think you might be, you could also be over or near wires you can’t see and you might descend down into them.

Even if you know exactly where you are, you can’t simply descend straight down into the orchard from 500 feet above it. Doing so would put you in serious risk of settling with power. So you have to spiral down into it, making sure that you’re remaining clear of wires that could be in the area. With luck, you’ll see the trees before you hit them.

My Test Runs

Before actually flying a mission, a friend and I went out on a test run with me at the controls. We looked for one of my orchards that I knew had wires along one edge, Bonnevilles nearby, and a huge unlighted windmill less than a mile away. I went to the coordinates and looked down. There was moonlight and I thought I could see a patch of trees. I began my spiraling descent and doubt creeped into my mind. Were those trees? The shape wasn’t right. I realized that I was looking at a small lake near the orchard and couldn’t remember where it was in relation to the orchard. I realized that the windmill was near the lake. Knowing that I wasn’t where I thought I was, I aborted the descent. My friend was with me on that decision.

We tried my other orchard, which had a more regular shape. I got into position over it and began my descent. I could see the flowers on the trees in the moonlight. But when I got within 100 feet of them, my landing light flashed on wires where I didn’t think there were any. Was I over the right orchard? If I wasn’t, I had no idea where wires could be. Again, I aborted the descent.

I was seriously concerned about my ability to get the job done. My friend was even worse, suggesting that it wasn’t possible without lighting from the ground. When I pointed out that other pilots had been doing it for years, he couldn’t argue.

Trail Tracker for iPad
One of my orchards consisted of four separate irregularly shaped fields. There were wires along the northeast side, running to the house. Note the ponds to the south; the windmill is southwest of the orchard, out of the image.

The next day, I downloaded an app called Trail Tracker for my iPad. This app creates a track log as you travel. I drove out to each of the orchards, turned the app on, and drove around the entire orchard. This created a blue track line that surrounded the orchard.

Later that day, I hopped into the helicopter with the iPad mounted in it stand. I then flew out to the orchards, one at a time, with the tracking software displaying the orchard’s outline. A GPS marker indicated my position on the map, although there was a bit of a time lag. I was able to see on the iPad where I was in relation to the orchard.

The next night, we went out again. This time, my friend flew his helicopter and I was a passenger. We flew out to my odd-shaped orchard first and were able to successfully descend down over the trees while knowing exactly where we were in the dark. While we were in flight, I also noted nearby lights that would give me visual references at night — the farmhouse on the east side was a good source of light and there was another at a shop up the road to the orchard (not shown in this image). We also flew all the way up to Williams to check out my friend’s orchards. We were able to find them and descend over the trees. He made a note of lights in the area, too.

So by approaching it with more information, we were able to get a bit more comfortable about the task we’d be called to perform.

But did I like it? Hell no! As I told another friend after I returned home the next day, this would be some of the most dangerous flying I’d ever do. I was not looking forward to it at all.

About My Contract

Unfortunately, my frost control contract was very different from a cherry drying contract. Although the helicopter was required to be onsite for the duration of the contract, I was not. I could go on with the day-to-day living of my life with two exceptions:

  • I couldn’t fly my helicopter because it was positioned in California. This made it impossible to accept flying jobs anywhere else. And since I didn’t advertise my availability where the helicopter was based in California, I didn’t book any flying work for the duration of the contract.
  • I could be called at any time to get on active standby. Once called, I’d pretty much have to drop everything and head out to California to prep the helicopter and wait until I was launched.

Because I wasn’t required to be with the helicopter, the standby money was considerably less than I’d get with a cherry drying contract. Like 25% of that amount. Ouch. I actually couldn’t afford to stay with the helicopter. My living expenses would be too high.

The contract did, however, provide additional revenue when I was called out and when I was on active standby. I was called out for two consecutive days. The callout and standby fees easily covered the cost of hopping on a Southwest Airlines flight from Phoenix to Sacramento and hanging around for two days.

But the temperatures never got low enough to launch me. I was there with the helicopter, the helicopter was fueled and ready to fly, but I didn’t need to fly.

That was early in the contract. I wasn’t called out again.

Later, my client told me that it was the warmest spring he’d ever been through.

Devore Aviation Lights
Devore Aviation’s Forward Facing Recognition Floodlight System consists of LED lights mounted on the two front skid legs. The lights and installation were very costly, but I might get some use out of them during cherry season.

In all, it was a break-even gig for me. The standby money covered the cost of getting special lights installed on the helicopter and repositioning the helicopter to California and back to base. The callout and standby fees covered my living expenses for the few days I was in Woodland with the helicopter.

Would I Do It Again?

In all honesty, I’m not sure I’d do this again.

I certainly would not do it again with the same contract in place. I’d much prefer a contract more similar to a cherry drying contract with higher standby fees, even if the contract required me to stay in Woodland for the entire contract term. Woodland is a nice little farm town very close to Sacramento and not far from Sonoma Valley; I think I’d really enjoy spending two months there — especially with the days free to do what I like.

But it really all depends upon the demand for my services in the Wenatchee area, where I’ll be living as soon as I can get out of Arizona. While cherry drying season doesn’t usually start for me until June, I might be able to get other flying work if I were in Washington with the aircraft before then.

It’s a decision I’ll have to make next year.