Return to Papillon

I return to Papillon for a visit.

I ran into John Becker, Papillon’s Director of Operations, at a Grand Canyon Overflight meeting in Flagstaff the other day. (Unfortunately, I picked the wrong day of the two-day meeting to attend, but that’s another story.) I always liked John — he’s an upbeat kind of guy that didn’t put on “big boss” airs — even when talking to a lowly pilot like me.

I told John about my new helicopter and how I wanted to show it to him. I asked when he’d be around Papillon. He suggested Friday. So today, I decided to make a Williams run in Zero-Mike-Lima, with a stop at the Grand Canyon Airport on the way.

Okay, so the Grand Canyon Airport isn’t exactly on the way from Howard Mesa to Williams. It’s north of Howard Mesa and Williams is south. But you get the idea.

I left early — I really hate flying when it gets hot and the thermals kick in — and landed at GCN’s transient helipad at about 7:45. That’s before the tours start flying. I walked from there to Papillon’s helipads on the east end of the airport. As soon as I stepped inside, I started seeing people I knew. It was a nice reunion with these folks, full of hand shaking and hugging. I ordered a latte at the coffee counter and even got an employee discount. Upstairs, I visited the break room and checked the list of pilots to see how many of last year’s pilots were still around. I ran into Ron G and Walter. I saw that the Gimp was still with Papillon (they’ll have to fire him to get rid of him, since he’s already been fired by two other employers), and so were a few others, including Tyler, who I really liked.

John was in a meeting, although I did get a few words with him before the meeting started. So I spent some time chatting with Evelyn and Ilse. After a while, I asked them if they thought I could take a flight with someone, maybe Tyler. Evelyn consulted her computer screen and told me that Tyler had a 9:05 flight with two empty seats. They convinced me to go downstairs and ask Rosa if I could get onboard.

Rosa remembered my face, but not my name. When I told her my name, she remembered me very well, mostly because of my June 10 incident. She put me on Tyler’s flight, in the front seat. I paid her $16 for the fuel surcharge and airport fee. I didn’t even know which tour I was going to be on.

They made me watch the video, which I’d seen many times. So it didn’t really matter that they showed it to me in French with two other tourists.

The Grand CanyonTyler was very surprised when I climbed on board beside him. He fiddled with the intercom switches so I could hear the radios, which I really appreciated. It really helped bring back memories of all the flights I’d done. I discovered that I was booked on the shorter North Canyon flight, which goes over to the Dragon Corridor on the west side of the canyon. But since there was a lot of smoke on that side of the canyon due to a controlled burn, we’d be doing an East Canyon tour. Although Papillon doesn’t sell that tour, it is the best one. It starts off like an Imperial Tour, going out over the east side of the canyon, then turns west at the confluence of the Little Colorado River and makes a big loop back to the rim.

TylerThe canyon was hazy but beautiful. I had my camera with me and took a few pictures, including this one of Tyler in flight. (I always wished I’d asked one of my passengers to shoot a picture of me like this, at the controls with the canyon in the background. I’ll e-mail this to Tyler.) When we got back, I kept Tyler company while he shut down. Then I went inside to see if John was finished with his meeting. He wasn’t. I thanked Evelyn and Ilse for the flight and chatted a while with Ilse. Then, as it was getting late, I wrote a note for John on the back of a Flying M Air postcard and left it on his desk. It asked him to give me a call when he had time for a ride in my helicopter.

I walked back to Zero-Mike-Lima and after checking fuel prices — an insane $3.75/gallon! — I started up and headed south to Williams. It had been a nice visit to my old summer job.

I miss flying over the canyon, but I don’t miss it enough to want to do it full time again.

Some Photos

Two photos from my last month at Papillon.

I dumped some photos from my digital camera into my laptop yesterday and found a few I’d forgotten to take. (It’s kind of like the old days, when you’d put film in the camera, take a few photos, then not use the camera for a long time. When you get the pictures developed, you’re surprised by what’s in the envelope.)

PhotoThis first shot is a group shot one morning before preflight. One of the pilots (Bubbles, I think), had brought a camera and asked if we’d all go down and pose in front of a ship. It turns out that five or more of us had cameras with us so the loader who took the picture was pretty busy. Back row, from left to right: Don (“Gorgeous Don”), Greg (“Clogger”), Walter (“Wheezer”), Scott, me, Tom. Front Row, from left to right: Tyler (“Daisy”), Ann, Chris (“Bubbles”), Ron, Eduardo, Vince. This isn’t everyone, of course. Just the folks that were around that morning. If anyone has a shot of a different crew from this year, please e-mail it to me.

PhotoThis second shot is the instrument panel on a Bell LongRanger. This happens to be Copter 30, but they all looked pretty much alike. I took this picture while I was idling on the ground at the heliport, waiting for passengers. The instruments from top to bottom, left to right are: Oil pressure and temperature, Transmission Oil pressure and temperature, Fuel level, DC Load and Fuel pressure; next row down: Torque, TOT, N1, time (clock); next row down: Airspeed Indicator, N2/Rotor RPM; next row down: Attitude Indicator, Directional Gyro (incorrectly set but I always used the compass, which is not shown in this photo), ball (for trim indication); last row down: altimeter, vertical speed indicator, another ball (for trim indication; I didn’t realize there were two on this ship until just now).

Believe it or not, these are the only two photos I took while working at Papillon. I felt awkward taking pictures of the canyon while I was flying. I thought it would scare my passengers. And although I wanted to take other photos around the heliport and break room, I never got around to it.

My Summer Job is Over

I fulfill my contractual obligation and ask to be taken off the schedule.

The main reason I bailed out was because of my other work. You know. The work that pays enough to live well and afford things like a helicopter. The books.

In September, I flew one week, took the next week off for vacation (covered elsewhere in these blogs), and flew the next week. Somewhere around the middle of that third week, I got a desperate e-mail from my editor. I’d gotten 2/3 of my Excel QuickProject Guide done before I started my three weeks away from home. She had the frightening news that if the book wasn’t printed by November, Barnes and Noble would cancel their order for it. Talk about a wake-up call. Or wake-up e-mail.

So although I really LIKE flying at the canyon, I had to remember where the money was coming from and stop neglecting it. The truth of the matter is, I made more money writing any ONE of the books I finished this summer than I did for the whole summer as a pilot.

What’s odd about THAT (to me, anyway) is that flying a helicopter is a highly skilled task. Sure, anyone can be TAUGHT to do it, but it takes thousands of dollars worth of training to earn the necessary ratings and then at least 1,000 hours of flight time to get a real job doing it. That’s quite an investment in time and money. Contrast that to writing the computer books I write. Yeah, I spend time learning the software and sure, I have to buy hardware and software to outfit my office, but it doesn’t nearly approach the commitment I made when I decided to fly professionally. So I get more bang for the buck (or perhaps I should say buck for the bang?) when I write than when I fly.

But flying is a lot more fun.

The other reason I bailed out is the Jeckle & Hyde personality swap of one of Papillon’s middle managers. I used to think he was a good guy. But we had a little run-in when I thought he was being extremely unfair to me and he reported me to the big boss. The big boss and I had a chat. I explained my position and stuck to it. The big boss didn’t seem to think I was being outrageous. He probably didn’t think the middle boss was being outrageous either, though. Frankly, it was a case of two wrongs not making a right.

But what’s weird about it is the way the middle boss began treating me afterwards. It came to a head on my last day when he tried to pick a fight with me on the flight line. Wow. I don’t need any of THAT. Not for what I was being paid.

I had an exit interview with the big boss. That’s not what he’d call it, I’m sure. That’s a term from my corporate days, when a person had a final meeting with a boss or HR person to discuss things about the job. I told him what I thought about the job and the middle boss and all kinds of things. He listened. That’s all I wanted. He even took a few notes, which is more than I expected. I told him he could call me if he needed me and I thanked him for the opportunity of flying at the canyon. It had been a privilege, one I’ll miss. And then he thanked me, which made me feel really good.

So now I’m back in the real world of deadlines and phone calls and sitting on my butt in front of a computer all day long. I finished the delayed book yesterday, after only two more days of work. My editor is breathing a sigh of relief. I’ll write two articles I owe to InFormIT for their Web site. I’ll take care of all the bills I’ve neglected over the past month. I’ll do my taxes. (Hey, no comments. I do know it’s almost October.) I’ll sell my R22 and apply for a loan for the R44. I’ll start the next book on my schedule and knock it off in record time.

And next year, I’ll have a different summer job you can read about here.

The Frightened Passenger

A passenger overcomes her fear while over the Grand Canyon.

She was from England, in her mid to late fifties, thin and tall. She had some difficulty with her headset and I helped her out. She didn’t tell me she was nervous. She didn’t have to. I could tell by the way she grasped her seat bottom as we took off.

We were on north traffic in and out of the airport. North traffic, for a North Canyon tour puts me on a zig-zag course over the forest northwest of the airport. The first two turns are sharp turns to the left. I’m allowed to bank up to 30° with passengers on board, and the first turn, at the Moki, needs it. As we turned and the helicopter leaned to the left, my passenger leaned to the right. I was a bit more gradual with the second left, but she leaned all the same.

The passenger clung to her seat bottom, staring straight ahead. I was just starting to wonder if she’d ever let go when she became interested in the view of the canyon, which was coming up on our right. She released her seat and began fiddling with her camera. She snapped off a picture or two and then I was making a turn to the right and she was holding onto her seat for dear life again.

This happened throughout the flight. She’d release the seat to take a few photos, then grab on again as I made a turn or some mild turbulence bumped us around. I’d seen people like her before and I knew she was okay about the flight. I tried to ignore her, since she was a bit distracting. She really broadcasted the helicopter’s minor movements to me — movements I usually had no real control over.

At the end of the 25-minute flight, I came into the airport with one last sharp left turn. I set down at my helipad, throttled down to idle, and turned to thank the passengers.

My frightened passenger was all smiles. “I was so scared!” she shouted to me. “Thank you! Thank you!” And then she hugged me tightly — a difficult task, given that I was strapped into my seat, wearing my headset, and not expecting it. She thanked me a few more times for good measure, saying how wonderful the flight had been. She shook my hand, too. I told her she made my day.

And then she was gone, rejoined with her friends outside the helicopter, telling them how great she thought the flight was.

So if anyone asks why I’ve taken on a job that pays a fraction of what I make in my other job, I can tell them about the frightened passenger and the big hug she gave me when we landed.

Thoughts about My Summer Job

A Mid-season review of my job at the Grand Canyon.

The other day, a fellow helicopter pilot called me to ask about my job at Papillon. His name is Dave and he’s an R22 owner/pilot like me. I’d met him last year (I think) at the airport in Wickenburg when he came through with his helicopter on a flatbed trailer. He calls himself a “scenery collector” and flies around the country taking photos of the scenery — especially interesting geologic formations — from the air. Now he works as the Chief Flight Instructor for a flight school/aerial photography outfit in Florida, but he’s always thinking ahead.

Dave had seen an ad for a job flying A-Stars in Hawaii. He thought that might be a nice job. (Oddly enough, I think so, too.) Trouble is, he has little or no turbine experience and he knows he can’t get a job like that until he gets some.

Dave was in St. George, UT recently and ran into one or two pilots I know. I don’t know if it was Rod, who flies a helicopter for fire contracts for Papillon or Dusty and Craig who work fire contracts with a SEAT. It might have even been Robin, who runs the helicopter flight school in St. George, or his brother Job, who runs the Millionaire FBO there. (I never realized I knew so many people in St. George. I’ve only been there twice.) Anyway whoever it was reminded him about me. He looked me up on my Web site and gave me a call. By some miracle, I was at my desk and answered the phone.

We had a nice chat. He said he called to find out about working for Papillon. He told me about the Hawaii job and brought me up to date on what he was doing. He said he was thinking of applying at Papillon to get some turbine time. What did I think of working there?

So I thought about it. I’d already been thinking about it, on and off, for the whole summer. But this time, I thought about it in a way that I could provide some kind of conclusion or recommendation.

And this is what I told him.

Working at Papillon can get exceeding tedious at times. I’m the low person on the experience ladder, so I haven’t been trained to do anything except the two basic tours we do: the 25-minute tour in the Dragon Corridor and the 50-minute tour in the Zuni and Dragon Corridors. So that’s what I do. All day long. On average, I make 10-14 trips into the canyon a day. Not much variety.

What can make the work interesting is the weather. Spring brings high winds, sometimes with gusts up to 50 knots before we shut down. That generates turbulence in the canyon when all that wind is rushing over all those weird formations and buttes. Summer brings isolated and scattered thunderstorms, mostly in the afternoon. The challenge is navigating around them without flying into a no-fly zone. Of course, when you get a bit close to one, it’s a bumpy ride. And if you fly under a storm in one of its early stages when you’re out in the canyon, you can expect severe updrafts or downdrafts. Good thing there’s that big ditch under you. And I believe I’ve already gotten a glimpse of what the autumn will bring: low clouds that float below us in the canyon or as ground fog on the north rim. Very pretty, but there will come a day when I have to fly around them, too.

The pay isn’t very good. I won’t get specific, but I will say that I could never survive on that pay. I’m not sure how the rest of the pilots do it. I’m very glad I have another job that I can do on my off weeks to make the money I need to maintain my lifestyle.

And living conditions in Tusayan or Valle are not very pleasant. Imagine sharing a double-wide trailer with three other pilots. Or sharing a fifth-wheel trailer with someone you’ll become very well acquainted with. The closest supermarket is 60 miles away. The closest movie theater (other than IMAX, which plays the same movie all the time) is about 100 miles away. Night life is limited. And everything in the area is extremely overpriced.

Doesn’t sound very good, does it? Well, I’m not finished. There are definite benefits to working at Papillon.

First of all, Papillon is willing to hire piston pilots with as little as 1,000 hours of PIC time. It will train those pilots to fly Bell 206 L-1 C30P Long Ranger helicopters, using a training program that’s very similar to the coveted Bell Transition Course. But rather than take the course in a classroom crammed full of other pilots, Papillon’s training classes are typically 2 to 6 people at a time. And if a pilot needs special attention (as I admit I did for a few things), he’ll get it. The Bell course costs about $6,000 plus living expenses while you’re in Texas for a week. Papillon’s course is free and they pay you while you take it. So there’s a definite benefit to getting transition training with Papillon.

But what’s better than just the training is the extremely challenging conditions you’re thrown into right after you finish. I’m talking about those winds plus flying at high density altitudes (Grand Canyon airport is at 6600 feet) near max gross weight. Only days after learning what torque was, I was battling to keep it under 100% when I took off. And by this time in the summer, it’s common to log 6 or more Hobbs hours a day. Every day. So building time is a definite part of the package.

And, of course, there is the end-of-season bonus that comes when Papillon cuts its pilots loose in October. That makes the pay a little more palatable.

I told all this to Dave. I told him that if he was willing to dedicate an entire summer to Papillon, he’d get the experience he wanted and needed to move on to a turbine helicopter position somewhere else. And, if he didn’t drop out in the middle of the season, he’d earn the respect of Papillon’s management, which could then be depended upon as positive job references.

I think he realized the benefits and the drawbacks. Like me, he doesn’t have to depend on a job like this to survive. He’s still thinking about it, but I have a feeling that unless something else comes along, he’ll be flying at the GC next year.

As for me, one season is enough. I know where I stand with the bosses. They consider me a “Sunday pilot” because I didn’t come to them with a strong background in commercial flying or flight instructing. It doesn’t matter that I have more cross country or solo time than any of their other piston pilot converters. It doesn’t matter that I made solo cross-country trips from Wickenburg to destinations in the Los Angeles area, the western foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and the western side of the Rockies in Colorado. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been doing tours and rides for the past three years when their other pilots were building time by teaching students how to hover. It doesn’t matter that I can perform as well as — or better than, in some cases — any of the other pilots, sitting in a cockpit for 6 hours straight sometimes, conducting tour after tour. No matter what I do or how I perform for the rest of the season, nothing will change that. So the chances of me getting more training and more varied assignments next year are pretty much nil. And I cannot bear the thought of cranking 50 to 80 passengers a day through the canyon every work day next summer.

So what will I do next summer? I’m thinking about barnstorming in my new R44…anyone want to come along for the ride?