Category Archives: Travels with Maria

Blogging from the road.

Exploring the Desert by Helicopter

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We wander through a mill site, fly over an open pit mine, get a hamburger in the middle of nowhere, and see the “land now” light four miles short of home.

It all started over a year ago. I discovered the beauty of the Santa Maria River from the air.

The canyon east of route 93 is unbelievably beautiful, with dramatic rock formations, cacti, and a river with real water in it. Part of the canyon is in the Arrastra Wilderness and I generally avoid it. But most of it is open to the flying public (so to speak) and I occasionally fly through it, following the winding canyon from Alamo Lake to 93.

On my flights, I’ve always noticed the remains of some kind of mining site at the end of a road not far from 93. There was some kind of shack there, what appeared to be a metal tank, and some tailings piles. Among all that was what appeared, from the air, to be a good landing zone. I thought about what a neat place it might be to take passengers or even to set up a base camp for hiking the area over a period of several days. But the road that wound through the desert from 93 to the site made it less than perfect. After all, why take a helicopter to a camp when you can hop in a Jeep and do it for a lot less money?

Time passed. Then, on Thursday, I got a call from a man named Bobby who wanted me to take him and his wife to see some ranch land he owned on the Santa Maria River from the air.

You can probably guess where this is going. The “ranch land” was the mill site I’d seen from the air.

According to Bobby, the site is named Waters Sunset Mine. I spent a good part of this morning — my usual blogging time, in fact — trying to research the site. What I came up with was the Waters/Sunset Mill and Mine, which was purchased by Orex Corporation back in 1999. This kind of jived with what Bobby had told me: that he’d sold the land to a mining company and they’d gone bust so he’d gotten the land back. There was 46 acres of this land, right on the Santa Maria River, and he owned both the land and the corresponding water rights, which he said were now worth more than the land.

It turns out, the road to the mine is not passable, partly because the Santa Maria River, which is running pretty good right now, runs right through it. There’s only one road in. So it’s impossible to get there by wheeled vehicle (unless it’s amphibious). Bobby didn’t want to land there — which is a good thing, since I’m still not legal to land with paying passengers. He just wanted to photograph it from the air. So the job was an aerial photography/survey job rather than a sightseeing tour.

After he shot his pictures and we moved on to another site to photography, we talked about the site. I told him my ideas about using the land. I told him that I’d rather use private land than public land because it’s easier to get permission. He said that he’d give me permission to use the land. I told him that if I used the land for paying customers, I’d pay him a fee per customer I brought there. He liked that idea. I think he saw it as a way to make a few bucks off some otherwise useless land.

That was Friday. This morning — Saturday — Mike and I decided to go check it out from the ground. We called John and Lorna and they were interested in coming along. So at 10:00 AM, I lifted off from Wickenburg in Zero-Mike-Lima with all four seats full for the 41-mile flight to the mill site. We followed 93 most of the way, drifting to the west when we saw the rock formation known as Shiprock. (No, this isn’t the big Shiprock near the Four Corners area. It’s a much smaller, differently-shaped version.)

Landing ZoneWe overflew the site and I set up to land, coming up the canyon from downstream. There were two big, apparently flat areas to choose from. The first choice was not a good one; the landing zone wasn’t flat enough and the helicopter rocked a bit on its skids when I set down. I don’t like that, so I tried another spot. It wasn’t until I set down the fifth time, in another big, clear area that I was satisfied. I shut it down and we got out to explore.

Core SamplesThere isn’t much at the site in the way of ruins. There are some nicely preserved rock foundations and a weird metal shed. There are also hundreds — if not thousands — of core samples that were once neatly piled in wooden boxes alongside a big rock formation. The wood has rotted considerably and the boxes, in some places, have fallen over.

We spent nearly two hours there, walking among the ruins and trying to identify what the things we saw were for. We also spent quite a bit of time along the river. I’d been worried, at first, that we’d be able to hear the traffic on 93. After all, it was only a mile or two upstream. But the sound of the water drowned out any other sounds. Even when we hiked up the road to the top of a hill where the sound of the water was much fainter, there was no car sound. That made me happy. It’s hard to sell a place as “wilderness” when you can hear cars on a highway nearby.

The Santa Maria RiverThe river was beautiful, flowing swiftly over rocks and sand. There were a number of very nice beaches (if that’s the right word) that would have been wonderful for sunning yourself or even swimming. And the sand just below the water’s surface absolutely sparkled with mica — or was that gold? I think I’ll have to bring a gold pan the next time I fly out.

I asked John, Lorna, and Mike if they thought the site would make an interesting day trip for passengers. They all agreed that it would. Then I asked if they thought it would work for overnight camping trips. They said it would be great for camping. Lots of level places to pitch tents, plenty of water nearby, and wonderful, peaceful scenery.

Heck, I’m sold.

We climbed back into the helicopter at about 12:30, now hungry for lunch. I didn’t expect us to be there so long, so we didn’t bring any food. We decided to hit the Wayside Inn near Alamo Lake for some of their excellent hamburgers. But first, we’d swing past Bagdad so I could show John and Lorna the mine there.

Bagdad is a mining town about 60 miles northwest of Wickenburg, about 15 miles off route 93. Its main feature is an open pit copper mine and that’s what pretty much supports the whole town. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my camera out when we flew over the mine — it’s quite a site to behold from the air! John and Lorna were suitably impressed. I think they’d been expecting the usual mine shaft that we can often see from the air. But this was a big pit with huge dump trucks hauling ore out, even on a Saturday afternoon. I flew past the leeching ponds and descended down into the canyon. We followed that to Kaiser Canyon, where I pointed out the hot spring far below us, then followed Burro Creek to the Big Sandy Wash and followed that to Alamo Lake.

The lake is high because of all the rain we’d been having. So high, in fact, that the road that runs across its eastern end is under 16 feet of water. (I know that because our waitress told us. She also said she caught a huge bass there the other day.) I headed out toward the Wayside Inn, which is southeast of the lake and, because we had a tailwind, flew past and circled around to land into the wind. I set down on a triangle of land at the crossroads there, right across the road from the campground. I kicked up a bunch of dust, but no one complained. I shut down and we went in for lunch.

(I’m sure I’ve covered the Wayside Inn in another blog post. Let me look it up so you can read about it….ah, here it is.)

At the Wayside InnThe waitress remembered me from the last time I’d been in. “That’s a different helicopter from last time,” she said.

“Yeah, I added water and it grew,” I told her. That had become the joke that all my helicopter friends were using. “I wish it was that easy,” I added.

We ordered lunch, admiring the photos of the fish caught in the nearby lake. Some of the fish were quite large. There were dated Polaroids of dozens of them, held up by the people who’d caught them, on the wall near our table. Each photo included the date and the weight of the fish. The newest photos were only two days old. When the burgers were history, I helped myself to desert: a Schwans ice cream sundae cup. It was exactly the right kind of desert for a meal in the middle of nowhere.

It was about 2:00 PM when we headed home. When I started up, I realized that we were a bit lower on fuel than I thought we were. But as we gained speed, heading straight back to Wickenburg, the GPS told us we’d be there in less than 15 minutes. Surely I had enough fuel to make it back. Although my smaller, aux tank was on E, the main tank showed about 7 or 8 gallons. I remembered how I’d occasionally get both of Three-Niner-Lima’s gauges down to E without the Low Fuel (AKA Land Now) light going on. It certainly looked as if I’d have enough fuel to make it back.

I almost did.

Another Landing ZoneWe were about four miles out of Wickenburg when the Low Fuel light started to flicker. It went on, then off, then on, then off. Then on. According to my gauges, I still had about 1/8 left in the main. But I remembered what they’d taught us in the Robinson Factory Safety Course: trust the light, not your gauges. To me, the light meant “Land Now.” So I landed. On a dirt road. In the desert. At least a mile from pavement.

You have to understand that if I did run out of fuel, there was only one way down and it was the fast way. I much preferred taking my time about the landing, picking a spot when I still had enough fuel to get me there with the engine running. So I landed even when I may have had enough fuel to make it back to Wickenburg. After all, I might not have had enough fuel to make it back and then things could have gotten ugly.

Mike volunteered to walk to 60 and hitch a ride back to the airport. He started walking and I started making phone calls. I got Gus on the phone and told him where the fuel cans were. He wanted to know how far out we were. I didn’t really know how far out we were on 60. I gave him Mike’s cell phone number.

Then I saw a helicopter off in the distance. Could it be? I got in, flicked the master switch, turned on the radio, and put on my headset. I keyed my mike. “Ray? Is that you?”

“Yeah, what’s up, Maria? Where are you?”

“We ran out of gas about four miles short of the airport.”

“Got a fuel light?” he wanted to know.

“Yeah. I’m not taking chances.”

He flew by a few minutes later. Then I asked him to fetch us some fuel from the airport to save Gus a ride. Gus heard me on the radio and he and Ray made arrangements. I turned off the radio and called Mike. It was a good thing I did. True to form, he’d decided to bushwhack through the desert, thinking he’d take a shorter route back to pavement. But rather than bushwhack on a route that went more southbound (correct) he was going more westbound (incorrect). As we later pointed out to him, if he’d stayed on his track, he’d have walked an extra mile or so before reaching the road. Next time, I’m going to give him a compass. I had one under the back seat.

Just add fuelRay landed in a nice grassy area not long after Mike returned. We got the two fuel cans out of the back of his helicopter — he still doesn’t have seats back there — and he took off. Then Mike and John poured the 10.7 gallons of fuel into the helicopter. When I started up and looked at my gauges, I saw that we now had more fuel than when we’d left the Wayside Inn.

We flew back to Wickenburg and I landed at the pumps. Earl, who was on duty there, topped both of them off. We parked outside — I’m flying again tomorrow. Gus came by and made some jokes about me running out of fuel. I realized that I’d be getting ribbed about it for a long time to come.

We all had a great time, though, and I don’t mind the ribbing.

Quartzsite 2005

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I spend a day in Quartzsite, AZ with friends.

I know I’ve mentioned Quartzsite more than a few times on these pages. I can’t remember if I explained what Quartzsite is. So I’ll explain here.

Quartzsite, you see, is more of a what than a where. Where is easy: it’s on I-10 about 20 miles east of the Colorado River/California Border. What is more difficult. It’s a town with a population that swells from a summertime low of about 1,000 people to a wintertime high of over 100,000 people. Most of those people show up in January. They show up in RVs and motor homes, they fill the campgrounds and the overflow vehicles park on the BLM land out in the desert.

Why do they come? For the swap meets, rock and art shows, and RV show. The whole town fills with vendors selling everything from dental picks to RV toilet systems. There are tools, clothes, RV equipment, blankets, custom license plate frames, hand trucks, scooters, dried fruit — you name it. All spread out in “shows” throughout the town on what are normally dirt lots. By mid-February much of this is gone. By March, most of it is gone. Any by April, Quartzsite has a ghost town appearance. Things don’t start picking up again until November or December. Talk about seasonal economies!

I’d wanted to spend a week out at Quartzsite, giving helicopter rides. But I was too late to arrange for a landing zone. Besides, when I was out there last week, flying over with Nancy and Bill, I wasn’t very impressed by the size of the crowd. It didn’t seem worth the bother.

But yesterday, when I rode into town in the back seat of John and Lorna’s pickup, I got a different picture. What a difference a week makes! Last year I’d guessed that the biggest week in Quartzsite was the week of the RV show. Yesterday confirmed it. There were at least three times as many RVs parked out in the desert as there had been the week before. I have no idea of where all these people came from, but there’s no denying they were there. In numbers.

After inching our way through traffic in town, we found a good parking space on Kuehn Street, which runs parallel to I-10 on the south side of the highway. That became our base for exploring two of the shows: The RV show, which John and Lorna were anxious to explore, and Tyson Wells, a rock and art show across the street.

Before we hit the shows, however, I scoped out a piece of land I was interested in leasing for the following year. I’d seen it from the air and it seemed like a perfect location for basing helicopter rides. It was 20 acres, but I’d only need an acre or two. There was a For Sale or Lease sign on it with a phone number. I called the number and spoke to what I assume must have been a Realtor. He promised to e-mail me information about the property.

The RV show was packed. Walking inside the huge tent, in fact, often reminded me of the old days, when I shuffled with thousands of other commuters through the Port Authority Bus Terminal to the subway escalator in New York. (Days I don’t miss one bit.) Everyone had something to sell, some line to try on you. I especially admired the cookware sales people, with their tiny stages and ten or so audience seats, repeating, over and over, the well-rehearsed lines that expounded the benefits of their products. Imagine doing that hour after hour, day after day, for ten days? I couldn’t.

It soon became apparent that, at 43 years old, I was the youngest person in the crowd. RVers in January in Quartzsite tend to be retired folks who are escaping from some cold climate. Some of these people will show up in Wickenburg for Gold Rush Days, the town’s annual attempt to capture revenue from seasonal tourists. Later, when we went to Tyson Wells and the Main Event, the average age dropped a bit and I didn’t feel like a young whippersnapper anymore.

One thing John, Lorna, and I agreed on: the prices of some of the RV equipment seemed very high. We talked about the average cost of the rigs people were towing or driving. A fifth wheel rig averaged about $75K while a Class A motor home (the kind you drive) probably averaged around $150K. These people obviously had no qualms about spending money to make themselves more comfortable. That’s probably why there were at least eight satellite television receiver booths, ten generator booths, and countless booths for electric massage devices and drug-free pain relief products.

We picked up a smoked turkey leg to bring home for Mike, then went back to the truck to drop off our purchases. I’d bought a five-pack of micro-fiber towels ($20 inside the tent; $5 outside the tent — I bought outside). John and Lorna had bags of product literature that Lorna said they’d probably never look at. Near the truck, John bought a battery-operated, bug-zapping fly swatter and threw that in the truck, too. Then it was on to Tyson Wells for lunch.

There were a bunch of food vendors at Tyson Wells. We looked around and found Smokin’ Willie’s BBQ. The Smokin’ Willies people had spent about a week at Wickenburg Airport, at my invitation, the year before. It was my lame attempt to find some kind of “restaurant” at the airport. They did well while they were there, but they had other gigs (like Quartzsite) where they could do better, so they left. They remembered me well. John, Lorna, and I ate at their booth.

We walked around Tyson Wells for a while. I bought two 16′ telescoping poles that I could use to hang flags at helicopter ride events. (I still had four red, white, and blue flags I’d bought for the airport but had not included in my asset sale.) John and Lorna bought some ocarinas to give as gifts. I inquired at a booth about an engraved key tag. I’d bought one at Quartzsite years ago for Three-Niner-Lima: a classy leather tag with an engraved metal insert. I wanted the same thing for Zero-Mike-Lima. We were directed to the Main Event, which is where I’d gotten the other one made. So we walked back to the truck, pulled out, and got back into the inching traffic to cross the highway and hit the Main Event.

The Main Event is probably the longest-running show in Quartzsite. By that, I mean it seems to be the first to start and the last to end. We got a good parking space on the east end (the parking gods must have been watching over us that day) and got out to walk. We found the engraving booth right away. The guy remembered me. He no longer made the leather/metal key tags, but he had some other designs. I picked one and requested that he engrave N630ML on it. Then I designed a license plate frame for my Honda that said “My Helicopter is Red, Too!” and paid for my purchases. While I was there, the booth guy and his wife told me that the Main Event was now owned by two different people. The show was Main Event East and Main Event West. Interesting.

We walked around the show and it soon became apparent that the split was quite serious. A big piece of land between the east and west sides had been fenced off and was vacant. This is the same land that had been crammed with vendors the year before. A fence with a gate let people into the west side. There were fewer vendors than I remember and the overall quality of what was offered was a bit lower than the usual low I’d come to expect. Many of the vendors were what I call “garage sale” booths — booths that seem to be selling junk from someone’s garage. But the cactus people were there, along with a few better quality vendors. Among these was the pelt and feather guy (as I call him) from Sedona. I took a moment to call Janet in Colorado and see if she needed any feathers. (Janet is an artist who paints on feathers.) I wound up buying two different kinds of pheasant skins for her. So I got to carry around two dead birds with me for the rest of the day.

We crossed back to the east side and walked around those vendors for a while. We bought some dried fruit and some other odds and ends. Then we went back to the engraving guy and picked up my key tag and license plate frame. Both were perfectly done. I told the engraver that he was an artist and I think that pleased him quite a bit.

We met with John and Lorna’s friends, Steve and Sandy, soon after that. They were camping in BLM land off Dome Rock Road. We chatted at the McDonald’s, eating $1 ice cream sundaes. By the time we went our separate ways, it was about 3:30 PM.

I was beat. I spend too much time sitting on my butt, so when I do a lot of walking, it really wipes me out. But we had one more thing to try to find. Ruben, at Screamers, had asked me to pick up a machete for him. He said you could find them “everywhere” in Quartzsite. I’d been looking all day and hadn’t seen a single one. So on our way out of town, we went to the show he said he’d seen them. I don’t know the name of the show, but it’s on the north side of the highway, at the east intersection with SR 95. The machete was in the first booth we walked into. $4. I bought it. Mission accomplished.

The ride home was long — Quartzsite is about 100 miles west of Wickenburg — but pleasant. For much of the ride, there was a rainbow off to our left, where heavy rain was falling over the Harcuvar Mountains. Centennial Wash would be flowing later in the day. We got back to West Park, where John and Lorna are staying, just after sunset.

It had been a good day and I’d gotten plenty of exercise. I’d need some Ibuprofen to help work out the aches and pains today.

A Trip to Quartzsite

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I have a nice flight to Quartzsite and back with some pilot friends.

Now that I’ve got my new helicopter, lining up paying gigs to fly it is my top priority. I need to take in about $4K a month to cover its fixed costs, like the monthly loan payment, insurance, and the cost of that annual inspection. Owning a helicopter ain’t cheap, which is why I started Flying M Air in the first place. There has to be some revenue coming in. The R22’s costs were about half of this helicopter’s, so I need to earn twice as much money with this helicopter to keep it.

That said, I’m always on the prowl for possible flying gigs. This month is the “big month” in Quartzsite, AZ. A friend of mine, Ivan, said he and his wife did some barnstorming out there one season with a Hiller and did very well. That was years ago, but he seems to think that it can be done again.

For those of you who have never heard of Quartzsite, let me explain. This little desert town is on I-10 about 20 miles east of the Colorado River and Arizona border. It has a year-round population of about 1,000. But when winter comes, the snowbirds begin arriving in their RVs. They descend upon the town, taking up all the campground parking spaces and overflowing into the BLM land around the town. At its peak — the time of the big RV show in January — there are about 100,000 people within a five-mile radius of the center of town, with more on the outskirts.

What brings all these people to an otherwise boring piece of desert on the highway? Swap meets, mostly. The place turns into a giant flea market, with hundreds of vendors selling everything from small tools to RV solar solutions. There are also a few specific shows, like the RV show, the Main Event, and Tyson Wells Extravaganza (or whatever it calls itself). People are shopping all day, looking for great deals and things to buy and do. And a helicopter ride over the area is a real eye-opener to how the town spreads out.

The trouble is the landing zone. Although the town doesn’t seem opposed to landing a helicopter on an empty lot and doing rides — as long as I have a business permit — the owner of that empty lot might not be so accommodating. So I have to locate an appropriate landing zone, track down the owner, and get his permission. If he says no, I have to start the whole process all over again.

Of course, Quartzsite is completely surrounded by BLM land and it is possible to get a permit from BLM. But it takes 6 months — really! — for them to decide whether they’ll let you. And I don’t have six months.

I called Dick Cloud of Cloud’s Jamboree. Mr. Cloud owned a ton of land on the east side of town, on either side of I-10. His Jamboree was held annually for years and years. Then the State decided that Quartzsite needed another exit. They wanted to put it on Mr. Cloud’s land. So they condemned most of it, paid him off (I hope), and built the new exit. He’s left with only 6 acres on the north side and a trailer park on the south side. He moved the Jamboree to the Avi hotel on the Colorado River in the southernmost reaches of Nevada. He said he’d give me the permission I want, but he doesn’t have room for me. There are RV dealers on the six acres and not enough room for me. But he’s trying to buy some of the land back from the state. In the meantime, I asked him about helicopter rides on weekends at the Avi. He’s going to talk to the General Manager there and let me know. I wouldn’t mind spending every weekend on the Colorado River, especially if they set me up with a room and let me bring Alex the Bird.

Mr. Cloud got some wheels turning in my head, though. The land that had once belonged to him now belonged to the state. If I could get a permit from the state — much easier, I’m told, than BLM — I can set up on some land adjacent to his property. He’d mentioned a lot behind his trailer park, but I wanted more ideas before I made a trip down to the State offices in Phoenix. So that meant a flight out to Quartzsite.

After taking care of some odd jobs around my apartments this morning — including scrubbing a kitchen floor on my hands and knees (but let’s not go there, okay?) — I headed out to the airport. Mike was busy and had other plans, so I figured I’d track down Ivan and his wife and ask them to come along with me. Ivan was there, but he was busy with his Yak. Ivan, who used to fly helicopters, now flies antique airplanes at airshows, etc. The Yak is his plane, but he also flies L-39 jets for an outfit out of Deer Valley. He’d taken his Yak apart about 6 months ago to restore it and was working on it faithfully, every Sunday. This Sunday, his wife wasn’t with him and he was busy cleaning some parts. He said he wanted to come, but had to work on the plane. Besides, his wife’s sister was coming and he had to be home by 4 PM.

Next, I walked around the corner of Ivan’s hangar in search of Ray and Robbie. Their car was there, but only Ray was in the hangar. He was changing the oil on his often-flown and well-pampered Mooney. Robbie was doing things at home. They couldn’t come because he had to finish the oil change and Robbie had some big but unspecified plans for the afternoon.

I was beginning to think it was me, that no one wanted to spend 90 minutes in a helicopter with me.

I called my friend Keri and left a message on her answering machine. Then I drove to Screamers and bought a milk shake. Then I drove back to the airport. Chris, who has the hangar across from me, was just leaving. I went into the hangar, vacuumed Zero-Mike-Lima’s interior, and got the mysterious blood stain off the rear seat. (I’d been pretty upset when I’d seen it, but it came right off the leather with water and a paper towel. Phew!) Keri called back. She had a bad cold and although she wanted to come, she didn’t want to get me sick. I didn’t want to get sick either. Lance, her husband, had just returned from a hunting trip. He’d been up since 2 AM and wouldn’t be good company.

By this time, it was 12:30 and if I wanted to walk around a bit in Quartzsite while I was there, I had better leave soon. So I started hooking up Zero-Mike-Lima to its tow equipment.

I heard a sound behind me and looked up. It was Bill, a former helicopter pilot, whose wife, Nancy, flies an aerobatic Decathalon. He’d come to look at the helicopter. I asked him what he was doing at the airport and he told me that he and Nancy were planning to take a flight out over the desert to see which rivers were flowing and look at some biking trails.”How would you like to come with me to Quartzsite instead?” I asked. “I want to fly out there to look at some landing zones and could use a little company.”It didn’t take a behavioral specialist to realize that he was thrilled at the idea. “When are you going to go?” he asked.”As soon as I get this outside,” I replied.”Nancy’s putting fuel in the plane,” he told me. “I’ll tell her to put it away.” And then he was gone.

Zero Mike Lima at WickenburgI pulled Zero-Mike-Lima out of the hangar, grabbed a water bottle and the emergency kit, closed up the hangar, and towed Zero-Mike-Lima to one of the jet parking spots on the ramp. I had it all disconnected and was taking photos of it when Nancy and Bill showed up, all ready to go.

Ray showed up, too. His Hughes 500D is being painted in Nevada and should be back any day now. He wanted to look at my ship. He peeked into the cockpit and made a comment that told me he was impressed by the interior. (I don’t think people expect to see leather in a helicopter.) Then, obviously realizing that we were on our way out, he wandered back to the terminal.

Bill sat up front and Nancy sat behind him. I started up, giving Bill a narrative of what I was doing. Bill had owned one of the first Rotorways years ago, when he and Nancy lived in Scottsdale and only one airplane was based at the then tiny Scottsdale Airport. He used to fly his helicopter all over the place — even drop Nancy off at work. They’d bought the land that my house currently sits on and built what is now my neighbor’s house. There was (and still is) a landing area there and he routinely landed there with his helicopter. So he seemed pretty interested in what I was telling him.

We flew off to the west. The day was absolutely perfect for flying. Light winds, warm but not hot, clear blue skies. We zipped along at 500 feet above the surface, doing about 110 knots. I didn’t have GPS coordinates for Quartzsite, so I couldn’t punch it into my GPS and get the ETA info. I figured it would take about 45 minutes, though. We had full fuel and none of us were in a hurry. We had some nice conversation, talking about flying and swapping stories about flights. We talked about the things we passed over or near. It was nice having passengers who knew how to position the mike on their headsets so the voice activation feature of the intercom worked flawlessly.

I crossed over Eagle Roost Airpark and the two dirt strips nearby in Aguila. Oddly enough, a plane was just taking off from Eagle Roost — I didn’t think any of those people actually flew. Then Indian Hills in Salome, which was dead as usual. I adjusted course to follow SR-60 and descended after the ridge west of Salome. We flew over the Kofa Cafe, which has gone steadily downhill since it changed ownership two years ago but still seems popular with truckers. Then we passed over one trailer park after another through the valley. We hooked up with I-10, came through a pass, and saw Quartzsite spread out before us.

At QuartzsiteWe circled the town a few times. Nancy took photos with my Canon digital, which I’d left in the back. Remember, I was looking for landing zones. She took a perfect shot of Mr. Cloud’s property on the east side of town on the north side of the property. The RV sellers hadn’t filled it (yet) and there was a nice gate on the far east side that would offer easy yet restricted access to passenger. I could call Mr. Cloud back and offer to e-mail the photo with my proposed LZ drawn in on it. I also saw some land adjacent to Mr. Cloud’s property on the north side of the highway. I’d try getting a permit for that with the state later in the week.

Quartzsite Landing ZoneI also saw a perfect LZ with a “No Camping” sign in it (yes, I was low enough to read it from the air) and wondered how I could find out who owned it. (It’s not as if lot numbers were printed on the land like on a map.) I liked it because there was some grass on it to keep down the dust and no power lines in sight. it was also on a heavily-trafficked road with plenty of parking on the roadside.

We spotted all three landing strips in town, including the one on the Sectional Charts (now marked with a big X in the middle), the one everyone lands at (which has a slight dogleg in it), and the one the ultralights used which I landed at a few times (which now has palm trees planted near the edge). Bill kept telling us about a rock crushing facility he knew of beside the highway, but none of us could see it. I think it may have closed down since he’d seen it or, perhaps it was further west on the highway.

Since neither Bill nor Nancy were interested in getting out to stretch their legs, we departed the area, heading northeast. Rather than going straight back to Wickenburg the way we’d come, I decided to take them for a trip past Swansea, up the Bill Williams River, and back to Wickenburg via the Wayside Inn and Robson’s. A scenic flight. Let’s face it, the flight path along SR-60 from Wickenburg to I-10 isn’t exactly scenic.

Swansea from the AirI made several course adjustments before I thought I was following the right road to Swansea. I wasn’t. We ended up on the Bill Williams River, west of Swansea. We followed the river east. The river was flowing hard and had done some damage to farmland in the valley. Lots of silt. We came upon Swansea a few minutes later. There were a few Jeeps and ATVs on the roads there. I was very surprised to see that half the old worker’s houses had brand new metal roofs on them. It appeared that BLM was not only taking care of the place but it was restoring it. Swansea is one of my intended destinations from Wickenburg when I get my Part 135 certificate. Of course, I’m only two weeks into the six month application process, so I don’t even know whether they’ll let me land there with paying passengers.

We followed the Bill Williams River to the Alamo Dam and Alamo Lake. The lake was the fullest I’d ever seen it, with plenty of brown water coming in from Burro Creek and the Santa Maria River. We flew over the Wayside Inn, which had an airplane parked nearby, and up the Date Creek wash, which was wet in places but not flowing. Spotting some ATVs on the road, I “buzzed” them from a safe altitude, just to give them something to talk about. Then we headed toward Robson’s, where I repeated part of the tour I’d been doing the day before, crossed north of Forepaugh, where the RC airplane pilots were playing, circled Vulture Peak, and landed at Wickenburg.

I’d put 2.1 hours on the Hobbs meter and had two very satisfied passengers. Bill insisted on paying for the fuel to top off the tanks, but knowing what that would cost, I told him I only needed one tank topped off. He wound up paying for 18.3 gallons, which, at $2.89 per gallon, is more than generous.

As I put Zero-Mike-Lima away, I reflected on how successful the flight had been. I’d found three possible landing zones and had already established the means to get permission for two of them. There was a good chance I’d be in Quartzsite next weekend and I was looking forward to it.

New Year’s Weekend

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How We Celebrated the New Year.

After several painfully boring New Year’s Eves spent in Wickenburg and one relatively interesting one spent in Prescott, we decided we wanted a more memorable New Year’s Eve.

So we left town.

We stuffed the trunk of my Honda S2000 with overnight bags, dress clothes, and two bottles of champagne, wedged ourselves into the passenger seats, buckled up, put the top down, and sped off to the west on Friday morning.

We went to La Jolla, CA, which is just north of San Diego. We booked a room at the Sea Lodge at La Jolla Shores. Our room featured a huge sliding glass door and private balcony that faced the ocean. All day long, we could watch the waves and the people and birds on the beach. We could listen to the rhythm of the ocean waves. We could watch the weather move in and the kayakers move out and the surfers just float around, waiting for the perfect wave.

On New Year’s Eve, we had reservations for the early seating at Nine Ten, the restaurant in La Jolla’s Grand Colonial Hotel. We chose dinner with a wine pairing. (For those of you who don’t know what that means, each course is served with a different wine that has been selected by someone knowledgeable about wines and foods.) Four courses, four wines. The food was exquisite. I had chestnut soup, sea bass, venison, and a chocolate desert. Everything was both beautifully prepared and delicious. It was the kind of meal you’d couldn’t get within 40 miles of Wickenburg. And I enjoyed every bite of it.

After dinner, we changed into regular clothes and went for a walk on the beach. It was a nice night and there were very few people out and about. Then we had some champagne on our balcony and listened to the waves to welcome in the new year.

On Saturday, New Year’s Day, we drove into San Diego. We spent some time walking around the popular Gaslight Quarter, which reeked of beer from the previous night’s celebrations. Most shops and restaurants were closed; we got there too early. We walked a total of about 20 blocks and saw three Starbucks coffee shops. In all three instances, the Starbucks had been placed near an existing coffee shop. I realized that Starbucks is trying to put all the other coffee shops out of business. This was a revelation to me. We went into one of those little coffee shops for some latte. It was quaint and had lots of character — much nicer than the cookie-cutter design of a Starbucks. And the person who took my order actually made my coffee — imagine that! I wondered how long the place would survive with Starbucks right across the street. So I decided then and there that I would no longer buy coffee (or anything else) in a Starbucks. I’d like to see some little coffee shop put a Starbucks shop out of business and I’ll do my part to help make it happen.

We drove over the big bridge to Coronado Island. We walked around the east side of the island for a while, admiring the view of San Diego, then headed west to the Coronado Hotel. I got an excellent parking spot on the street near the hotel entrance, saving the $5 per hour parking fee I’d have to pay to park on the hotel’s parking lot. We walked around the hotel for a while and I bought a gift for Lorna who, with John, was housesitting for us. The Coronado Hotel is a wonderful historic landmark that is magnificently maintained. We had lunch outdoors in the sunshine: sea bass prepared two different ways. Then a long walk around the town in search of just the right desert. We found a coffee/pastry shop (with a Starbucks right next door — the nerve!) but didn’t find just the right bit of chocolate to satisfy my after-lunch craving. We left town heading south on the long causeway that ends just three miles north of the Mexican border, then headed back north.

Our last stop for the day was Cabrillo National Monument, where the original Point Loma lighthouse stands on a hill overlooking the San Diego Bay. Magnificent views all around. I took lots of pictures and used the movie feature of my camera to create a panoramic movie of the bay and city beyond.

By this time, it was late afternoon and the warm sunshine we’d been enjoying all day was fading behind thin clouds on the horizon. We headed back to La Jolla Shores for a rest before dinner. We had dinner in La Jolla, at a place called Roppongi. The restaurant featured “Asian fusion” food. We ordered five different tapas dishes, all excellent, and a sake sampler. More food you can’t get at home.

On Sunday, we checked out early and headed back down to San Diego’s Balboa Park. Many people know the park as the home of the San Diego Zoo, but the park also features many museums. We visited the Air and Space Museum there, which was surprisingly good. There were many airplanes and spacecraft on display, including the Apollo 9 Space Capsule and an actual GPS satellite. Exhibits were arranged historically, with early aviation exhibits near the entrance of the building and space exhibits near the exit. The building is round, so you walk in a circle to see all of the exhibits. A courtyard in the middle of the building has a glass ceiling and, since the building is in the flight path for San Diego Airport, jets fly right over the roof just a few thousand feet up. It reminded Mike of growing up in Flushing, NY, in the flight path for La Guardia.

Lunch was at Ole Madrid, a restaurant in the Gaslight Quarter that was supposed to offer Sunday Brunch. They called it brunch, but it wasn’t the buffet style meal we expected. Instead, we ordered tapas from a menu. Everything was good.

We left the city soon after that and headed east on I-8. We made one stop: in the town of Alpine where there’s an Indian Casino and large outlet mall. The mall was beautifully designed and landscaped with lots of statues, fountains, and vegetation. It was a pleasure to walk through it. After picking up a few things we can’t get in Wickenburg, we hit the road again. The day was cloudy and we drove with the top up to keep warm. (We’d had the top down all weekend long.) After coming through the mountains on I-8, we turned off, following the road toward Mexicali. The drive along the border was mildly interesting — certainly more interesting than the drive along I-8. We joined up with I-8 just west of the sand dunes and followed that to Yuma. Then 95 to Quartzsite, I-10 to SR 60, and SR 60 to Wickenburg. We got in just after 8 PM.

It had been a nice trip away, made possible, in part, by our friends John and Lorna, who stayed at our house and watched the menagerie (Alex the Bird, Jack the Dog, Jake and Cherokee (horses), and the chickens).

Now it’s back to reality in Wickenburg.

A Trip to California

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I take a trip to California with my family to see Zero-Mike-Lima.

I’d been wanting to see my helicopter being built. And I’d been wanting to get a look at the recently expanded Robinson Helicopter factory in Torrance, CA. And I needed an interesting outing to take my sister, brother, and sister-in-law on. So I made a few phone calls and got an appointment for a factory tour.

I wanted to fly us all out there and make it a day trip, but it would have cost $200 per person and I wasn’t willing to dump $800 on airfare. So on Monday morning, we packed overnight bags and hopped in Mike’s new Honda Accord. Road trip!Torrance is about 350 miles from Wickenburg. MapQuest, which I consulted before the trip, said it would take about six hours. But I had some side trips planned for along the way.

The first was a brief stop at Quartzsite, AZ, where I hoped to do some helicopter rides in January. I needed to find a good landing zone that was highly visible and safe. I thought that the area near the first Quartzsite exit (coming from the east) would work. Sure enough, it had the right layout for an operation. But I had a strong feeling it would be occupied in January when I wanted to use it. We stopped for lunch at a McDonald’s drive-thru and I made a quick trip into the nearby truck stop to buy a map of California. (Yes, I’d actually left the house on a 350-mile road trip without a map.) Then we hit the road again.

The Langer KidsAbout an hour later, we passed through Chiriaco Summit, which is the highest point between Blythe, CA and Palm Springs, CA. Five minutes later, we turned on the exit for Joshua Tree National Park. This would be my third visit to Joshua Tree and, like all the other visits, it would be a visit where I just have a few hours to drive through. But one of these days, I need to come to Joshua Tree and spend some real time. It’s a great park, with mountains, valleys, two different deserts (Colorado and Mojave), and lots of vegetation. On Monday, it also had snow — quite a bit of snow, in fact, especially on the northern side of the park. We drove through the park, making a few stops here and there. Norb, my brother, and Missy, his wife, did a little hike to a dam. My sister, Laura, and I would have gone with them, but we were wearing the wrong shoes for a trip through the snow. So we hung out in the car and listened to the XM radio.

We exited the park on the north side, then drove down the west side, back to I-10. By this time, it was late in the day and the sun was sinking low in the horizon. Sun glare was a real pain in the neck for about 20 minutes. Then, with the sun behind the mountains, we emerged at I-10 near Palm Springs and the windmills. The windmills impressed my passengers quite a bit. I was more impressed by the high-rise casino hotel that had sprung up between Palm Springs and Banning.

We took I-10 to 60 to 91 to the 605. My companions were introduced to Los Angeles area traffic, which was as bad as usual. We wound up on the Pacific Coast Highway near Long Beach and, after driving through a few bad neighborhoods, made our way to downtown Long Beach. The Renaissance Hotel there looked very inviting after so many hours of driving and traffic, so we pulled in and got two rooms. Then, after a quick meal at the brewery across the street, we turned in for the night.

I was exhausted, but not too exhausted to sleep past 3 AM local time. I spent two hours lying in the dark, trying to get back to sleep, before my roommate, Laura, woke up. Then I busied myself with the previous day’s USA Today while I lounged in bed. Laura and I went down for breakfast an hour before my brother and his wife were due to appear. By the time we were eating, I’d already been awake five hours.

FishWe checked out, stowed our luggage in the car, and walked down to the Aquarium of the Pacific, which was just opening for the day at 9 AM. I’m rather fond of fish — I have a 55-gallon fish tank in my living room — and I think aquariums are very interesting. But this one went beyond that. The highlights: the jellyfish displays, the shark-petting tanks, and the lorikeet feeding aviary. We spent two hours there and enjoyed every minute of it.

After a brief stop at the Queen Mary — which I personally don’t think is worth $20+ to tour — we hit the road for Torrance. Our tour was set for 1 PM. We arrived 20 minutes early and Milly Donahue, who is in charge of dealer/factory relations, met us in the lobby. She took us for a quick walk-through both factory buildings. Robinson Helicopter Company has owned a 360,000 square foot factory on the southwest corner of Torrance Airport for quite some time now. This year, they added a 315,000 square foot building right beside it. They moved the machining equipment from the old building to the new building and bought a bunch of new machining equipment to help fill the space — and to help them fill orders for helicopters. Robinson makes almost every single part in the helicopter (other than the engine, which is Lycoming) and they’re all made on the premises. My personal highlight for the walk-through came only moments after stepping out onto the factory floor. The helicopters are built on a series of assembly lines. The serial number for each helicopter is plainly written on the back wall of the cabin. 10603, which is my helicopter’s serial number, was the second R44 cabin frame I laid eyes on. I was actually looking at my helicopter before it hit the assembly line!Milly let my companions take my picture standing beside what was essentially Zero-Mike-Lima’s skeleton. Then we did the walk-through, returning to the lobby just before 1 PM.

The tour, which was led by Milly’s assistant, Vanessa, was more comprehensive, although it didn’t go into the new factory building. We were accompanied by four Asian men, of which only one spoke English, and a man who turned out to be from Prescott, AZ, who was thinking of buying a helicopter. Vanessa led us around the factory, stopping to explain many of the assembly areas. That’s when I realized that the assembly line had shifted up one space, leaving an empty space at the end. The last helicopter on the line was 10602. We walked around the factory and into the finishing area. We also stepped into the old delivery room, which was being used by a maintenance class to work on helicopters. Ed Taylor, my mechanic, was there, working on the cyclic control for an R44 with two other mechanics. I stopped and said hello, then left him alone to learn. When the tour was over, we passed by the end of the assembly line again. The last spot wasn’t empty anymore. What would be N630ML was sitting in its place on the line.

N630ML Under ConstructionI ask you: what are the chances of visiting a factory the very day that the item you’ve purchased goes onto the assembly line?

We climbed back into the Honda, feeling good about the tour. After a quick stop at a fast food place (can’t remember the name of the place, but its logo has a smiling star), we hit the highways (and traffic) for the ride home. It was about 2:40 PM. Los Angeles has the worst traffic in the world. It took us a good two hours to clear it. We stopped at the new casino between Banning and Palm Springs for a bathroom break and gas. Norb drove the rest of the way home. We got home at 9:15 PM local time and went right to sleep, exhausted.