Travel Insanity

Posted on June 4, 2011 by Maria Langer

Too many miles, too little time.

I’m just recovering from a crazy week with too much travel in too short a time span.

Our flight path, recorded on my iPad with GPSTrack. Can you tell where we did some scud running?

It all started last Saturday, when I flew with two companions from Phoenix, AZ to Wenatchee, WA by helicopter in one day. It was almost 11 hours of flight time with mostly very brief stops for fuel. Although I had very little stick time — one of my companions did almost all the flying — I was still alert and able to fly at a moment’s notice.

It got a little tense when we had to do some scud-running in Oregon that lasted far longer than I like to be spending scud running — as if I like it at all. It never got dangerous, but more than a few times, I began scouting the remote hillsides around us, looking for a place to set down and wait it out. I was very glad when the terrain finally descended, dumping us in an area where we could get back on course.

We spent the night in Wenatchee and I parted company with my travel companions, leaving them to catch an early flight to Seattle while I took care of other things locally.

Sunday was relatively restful. I needed to reposition the helicopter to Quincy, WA, where I’d be spending part of my summer. That was just a 15-minute flight. Then I spent some time socializing at Ferguson Flying Services, where my helicopter is parked in Quincy, and the Colockum Ridge Golf Course, where my RV would be parked soon. Then a friend/client picked me up and drove me the 5 miles to his winery in town, where I spent the afternoon socializing with him, his family, and the folks who came for wine tasting. A nice, mellow afternoon.

But at 4:15, the craziness started again. I got a lift to Wenatchee Airport, where I caught a flight to Seattle with a connecting flight to Phoenix. My husband picked me up there at about 10:30 PM. Overnight at our Phoenix condo.

Monday morning, bright and early, we were on our way back up to Wickenburg. I spent the day finishing up some work on a chapter of my book and then packing. It wasn’t until nearly 9 PM that night that we were done and pulling the RV out of the hangar where it lives most of the year. We left it parked in front for the night.

Welcome to Nevada At 6:45 AM, I was in the driver seat of the truck with Alex the Bird in the seat beside mine. We were starting a 1,295-mile drive from Wickenburg, AZ to Quincy, WA. My goal was to make Jackpot, NV that first day — a distance of 725 miles. I spent most of those miles on Route 93, a two-lane road with speed limits up to 70 miles per hour. There was no traffic and certain stretches of the road were straight and flat as far as the eye could see. We made Jackpot before nightfall. After dinner n the casino, I spent the night in the RV with Alex in comfort — in the casino parking lot.

My Rig, in Jackpot, NV The next morning, I woke at 6:15, which is late for me. Anxious to get on the road, I rushed around making my coffee and Alex’s breakfast and then buttoning up the RV for another day on the road. It wasn’t until after I topped off the fuel tank across the street from the casino that I realized it was an hour earlier; that part of Nevada is on Mountain Daylight Time. So I got a very early start. I left Route 93 behind in Twin Falls, ID, and hopped on I-84. The route was mountainous and the truck sucked diesel at an alarming rate as I struggled to maintain speed up hills. I left the interstate just past Pendleton and got back on smaller, traffic-free back roads to head north. After 10 miles on I-70 and the last five miles through familiar farmland, I rolled into the parking lot at the Colockum Ridge Golf Course RV Park just after 3 PM.

My route, as captured by GPSTrack on my iPhone.

I was fortunate to have had good weather all the way. Towing 13,000 pounds of fifth wheel RV on wet pavement is no fun — as I learned last year. It was just starting to rain when I finished hooking up my utilities at 4 PM.

Do I need to say how exhausted I was? I’d snacked my way from Wickenburg to Quincy, eating only snacks on my low-carb diet: jerky, almonds, and cheese sticks. The only real meal I’d had was at the casino in Jackpot. My digestive system was a mess for the next two days.

And of course, I developed a bad cold, which I think I’m just coming out of now.

But on the bright side of this, I managed to get all my assets in position for the first half of the cherry drying season. I set up my RV office and yesterday I managed to knock off another chapter of the book I’m working on. I’m also in the area early enough to set up helicopter tours and wine tasting trips with the local wineries.

It’s been a rough week, but now I’m settled in. It feels good to be at my home away from home.

Grounded at the Grand Canyon

Posted on March 23, 2011 by Maria Langer

Weather. Again.

This week, I’m on a Southwest Circle Helicopter Adventure with two very nice folks from California. Although this helicopter excursion normally runs 6 days and 5 nights, these folks expanded the trip to add 2 more days at Lake Powell.

The weather was an issue from Day 1, when we departed Phoenix Deer Valley Airport and headed north to Sedona. Although the forecast didn’t seem out of the ordinary — mild temperatures, light winds, clear skies — an odd white haze had settled over the Phoenix area, making visibility poor. It was like flying in Los Angeles. Ick.

Oak Creek Village So instead of giving my guests their Phoenix Tour and heading up the Verde River on Day 1, we took a shorter route to Sedona that overflew Lake Pleasant and stayed within several miles of the I-17 corridor. I figured I’d save the scenic flight for when visibility was better. I also expected visibility to be better in the Sedona area and was very surprised that it was not.

Of course, I watch the weather closely on these trips. Heck, I seldom go for more than a few hours without checking the forecast for the next three days and destinations. That’s how I knew the wind would kick up at the Grand Canyon for Day 2 and likely keep blowing through Day 3.

White Haze on Coconino Plateau The flight to the Grand Canyon on Day 2 wasn’t anything special — except for that white haze that persisted, even up on the Coconino Plateau. Very odd for Arizona. It wasn’t blowing dust, either — the wind wasn’t strong enough for that. Just an ugly haze.

We got to the Grand Canyon in time for my guests’ helicopter tour with Maverick Helicopters. We then piled into my redneck truck, which lives at the Grand Canyon during the winter months, and went into the park. I set my guests free to enjoy their day at the South Rim and did my job: getting their luggage into their rooms. Then I relaxed in my own room. I’d been at the Grand Canyon so many times when the weather was so much better. I was tired and thought I’d take it easy for the rest of the day.

Of course, I still watched the weather. I wasn’t happy about what I saw for Day 3. Winds 25 gusting as high as 41 would make for a rough flight out of the area. And then there was the 90% chance of precipitation with 100% sky cover. The forecasters said to expect snow flurries with accumulations under 1 inch. This was a far call from the blizzard I’d experienced at Bryce Canyon the month before, so the snow didn’t worry me much. It was the cloud cover. I knew how low clouds could get at Grand Canyon Airport. If they came too low for a safe, VFR departure, we’d be stuck.

One of the drawbacks to scheduling a Southwest Circle excursion is that everything needs to be booked and paid for in advance. Last minute cancellations are not only costly, but they cause nightmares in merely making changes. For example, if we missed a Monument Valley date, we would likely not be able to stay there the next night — the place is booked months in advance. My guests were scheduled to take an Antelope Canyon Tour on Day 3 and a Lake Powell boat ride to Rainbow Bridge on Day 4. Although Antelope Canyon could likely be rescheduled, the boat trip could not. So weather delays cause nightmares for me during a trip. It’s for that reason that I usually can’t relax until we reach Monument Valley, normally on Day 4.

Grand Canyon Dawn Day 3 dawned gray but with plenty of visibility. I even got out and snapped a few photos when the sun poked through some clouds and illuminated one of the rock formations in the canyon near Bright Angel Lodge, where we were staying. I grabbed some coffee, went back to my room, and checked e-mail. An hour later, I peeked out the window and saw that it was snowing.

It was 7 AM. We were scheduled to leave at 9 AM.

Over the next hour, visibility dropped to near zero and the snow came down hard and fast.

After dealing with an almost flat tire on my redneck truck, I called my guests and told them we’d be delaying departure. I got their room checkout time extended to noon.

By 9 AM, it was pretty obvious that we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. I shot this video outside the Bright Angel Lodge, right on the rim of the canyon. (I added the voiceover later that night.) Trouble was, I couldn’t extend our stay at the Canyon and I had all those other activities scheduled.

My Redneck Truck, with Snow I felt bad for my guests. They’d spent a lot of money on this trip and now they were stuck at a scenic place with no scenery and no helicopter flight to get them to their next destination. So I became their driver for the day. After realizing that the truck was not likely to make it to Desert View (on the east end of the park) before the roads were cleared, we stopped at the Visitor Center and the Geology Museum before heading into Tusayan (the tourist town outside the park) for lunch. The plan was for them to see the IMAX movie across the street next.

By 1 PM, the weather seemed to be clearing out. As we ate lunch at a “steakhouse,” I came up with a plan. While they were watching the movie, I’d prep the helicopter for departure. If the visibility held, we could escape to the east and arrive in Page before dark. (I’d already rescheduled their Antelope Canyon tour for Day 5.)

Icy-covered Helicopter But that plan failed miserably. When I got to the airport, I found the helicopter’s right side — the side facing the weather — completely iced over. The main rotor hub, the tail cone, and the tail rotor were all coated with ice. Even the skids looked frozen to the ground. And, of course, there was a good helping of snow in the fan scroll (again!) and even some inside the air intake port. The temperature had dropped by 10°F and it was now below freezing. It would not warm up again that day. The helicopter was officially grounded.

Cloudy Canyon I wound up driving them to Page. The trip should have taken just over 2 hours, but since the weather was clearing enough to see into the canyon, we made several stops along the way. We arrived in Page at 8 PM. I checked them into their room, made sure they were set for the next day’s boat ride, and checked into my room at the Day’s Inn.

Grand Canyon Juniper Now what I needed was a thaw — temperatures above 32°F. I must have called the AWOS number for GCN a dozen times before 10:30 AM on Day 4. Then I climbed into my redneck truck and made the trek down to Grand Canyon Airport. It took 2 and a half hours with just one stop to snap pictures of a very different (from the previous day) view.

The temperature was about 36°F when I arrived at the airport. The sun — my friend! — was playing hide and seek with thick, layered clouds. But the tour operators were all flying — visibility was great! Even the wind was not a factor. Most of the ice on the outside of the helicopter had melted. I just had to resort to my hot water trick to melt all the snow out of the fan scroll. After a good preflight, I started it up. A little rough at first and it took a full 10 minutes to warm up. But then I was ready to go and, after getting clearance from Grand Canyon tower, took off and headed east.

The flight was, for the most part, smooth. I ran the video camera (as you might expect) and captured some good footage over the Little Colorado River Gorge and along the Echo Cliffs. I set down on a helipad at Page Municipal Airport at 3 PM.

Today, the weather is clear with not a cloud in the sky. My guests are just finishing up their Antelope Canyon Tour. Tomorrow, we’ll continue on our way, winding up at Monument Valley in the early afternoon. So far, the forecast looks great.

Let’s hope it stays that way.

Wickenburg to Las Vegas by Helicopter

Posted on March 5, 2011 by Maria Langer

Again.

I couldn’t have asked for better weather. That’s what I was thinking as I preflighted my helicopter early on Wednesday morning.

I’d been hired to take three people from Wickenburg to the Las Vegas area with the primary objective of viewing the new bridge near the Hoover Dam from the air. My client, who had flown with me several times before, was willing to make the four-hour round-trip flight by helicopter — and pay for it — just for a look. To make the trip more worth his while, we’d also land at Boulder City Municipal Airport, where they’d rent a car and drive over to the dam for a tour. After lunch, they’d come back to the airport, climb back on board, and I’d take them for a Vegas Strip tour before returning to Wickenburg.

I’d mounted my GoPro Hero camera on the helicopter’s nose and set it up to shoot 720p video of the flight. I expected the flight up there to yield some good images and, if the camera was mounted properly, some smooth video footage. The camera seems to work best with the light behind the helicopter. On the way back, we’d by flying with the sun in front of us, so I didn’t have high expectations. Still, I brought along a pair of 16GB SD cards and the camera’s charger so I could capture it all. The images throughout this narrative are stills taken from that video.

The Flight Up

A thin, almost lacy layer of high clouds veiled the sky as we headed northwest from Wickenburg just after 8:30 AM. There wasn’t a breath of wind. The helicopter glided over the desert, 500 feet off the ground passing over cacti and other desert vegetation, open range cattle, and the occasional manmade water “tanks,” half of which were dry. Our departure from “civilization” to empty desert was almost immediate. As I often tell people, Wickenburg is on the edge of nowhere; I could just as easily say it’s a five minute flight from nowhere. We passed over a lonely ranch alongside the railroad tracks leading to Parker and beyond, then Route 71, which runs between Aguila and Congress, AZ. Then not a single building for thirty miles, when we reached the Wayside Inn and Alamo Lake.

Alamo Lake, at the confluence of the Big Sandy River, Santa Maria River, and Date Creek. The trickle of water released from the dam is the Bill Williams River, which eventually joins the Colorado River north of Parker, AZ.

I climbed not only to cross the lake within gliding distance of shore but to clear the mountains on the far side. As we crossed the lake, I was surprised by the number of campers parked alongside its shore and the boats tied up nearby. I suspected that a fishing tournament might be either starting or finishing up. The lake is popular with fisherman, which is probably a good thing. It’s so remote — heck, it’s a 90-minute drive from Wickenburg — that it simply doesn’t appeal to the typical powerboat/jetski crowd. They usually prefer Lake Pleasant, only 30 minutes from Phoenix (or Wickenburg), which is larger and far more interesting for boating.

Beyond the lake and the rugged mountains on its opposite shore was yet another stretch of empty desert. But rather than being just a flat expanse, this one was peppered with rock formations left behind by ancient volcanos. There were areas of broken basalt, including flat-topped mesas. In the distance, to our left, we could catch glimpses of the Colorado River. If we’d been in a plane, flying 3,000 feet higher, we’d have a better view of the river and mountains in the distance; at our cruise altitude of 500 to 1000 feet above the desert floor, we could clearly see the details of the rock formations, dry stream beds, and scant vegetation as we flew.

Beyond Alamo
The desert northwest of Alamo Lake is vast and empty.

Forty-five miles from Alamo Lake, we reached Lake Havasu, one of the Colorado River’s many lakes. Formed by Parker Dam far to the south, the lake widens in a broad valley. The founders of Lake Havasu City bought the London Bridge — the real London Bridge from England — and had it installed across a manmade canal as a tourist draw. The town formed nearby. It’s popular for water sports and has a huge influx of visitors during boat races and Spring Break. A friend of mine who lives there complains that the temperatures top 100°F six months out of the year.

Lake Havasu’s surface was mirror calm as we flew over, reflecting not only the graceful arches of London Bridge, but the clouds high above.

I’d chosen our route carefully. Two hours is a long time to spend in a helicopter, especially out over the desert where the terrain can be — and, up to that point had been — very monotonous. I planned the trip to follow the Colorado River, which was quite scenic. From that point on, we’d be over one shore or another or at least nearby. It would give my passengers something interesting to see for the second hour of the flight.

Indeed, the scenery along the river can be breathtaking — especially where the river narrows and passes through mountainous terrain. Topock Gorge is one of those places. Although it’s a short stretch of river and takes only five minutes or so to overfly, it’s dramatic and rugged. During the summer season, when the lake busy, speedboats roar through this area all day long. But that day, the lake was calm and quiet and we were treated to beautiful reflections of the sky and canyon walls.

Topock Gorge is one of the more scenic areas along the Colorado River between Lake Havasu City and Bullhead City.

Past the gorge, the river twists and turns in big arcs to the east and west. Rather than follow its course exactly, we headed almost due north. We passed over I-40 where it crosses the Colorado and the farms and communities built up in the Mohave Valley. This was also desert, but desert made habitable by the river that passed through it. Make no mistake: we were still miles from anything remotely resembling a real city — but at least there were people living here.

The Mohave Valley, near Needles, CA, is full of farms and small communities clustered up near the Colorado River.

A while later, we were within range of Bullhead City Airport and I called the controller for permission to transition the area along the river. Bullhead City Airport is a real oddity. It was built on the Arizona side of the river to support the casinos in Laughlin, NV. Although it’s well over 100 miles from any international border, it’s an International airport, meaning that you can fly into it from other countries and pass through customs and immigration. It even gets airline traffic; as we flew through the area, a Sun Country 737 was coming in to land. But the airport itself gets very little traffic. This might be because of the natural “wind tunnel” that funnels air up or down the river, resulting in winds that often top 20 knots. But that day, the wind was calm — the first time ever that I’d been there — and other than the jet, we were the only other traffic in the area.

The tall casinos of Laughlin, NV across the river from Bullhead City, AZ. You can see the Bullhead City airport on the far right.

Beyond Laughlin and Bullhead City was the Davis Dam, which forms Lake Mohave. Lake Mohave is another one of the oddities of the desert. Although there are a few marinas and campgrounds along its southern shores, most of the lake is deserted and I seldom see any boat traffic on it. Again, this is likely because of its remote location — although access is easy from the Laughlin area. It seems to me that Lake Mohave would be a great place to become a houseboat hermit.

The Davis Dam is just upriver from Laughlin and Bullhead City.

Lake Mohave seems like the perfect place to get away from it all on a clear, blue lake.

We flew up the eastern shore of the lake and I kept a sharp eye out for wild burros (donkeys). I’d seen them there before. While their trails were easily visible from the air, I didn’t see any animals — or people — at all.

The north end of the lake narrows considerably where the Colorado River winds through a gorge. The rock formations are rugged and starkly beautiful. This isn’t the place you’d want an engine failure — there aren’t many places for an emergency landing. But the landscape draws me to this area each time I fly up the river.

The Colorado River on the north end of Lake Mohave passes through a rugged gorge.

I tuned into the Lake Mead/Hoover Dam tour helicopter frequency and began monitoring communications. I knew that the area around the dam would be full of traffic and wasn’t sure what altitude pilots would be flying at. Routes and procedures are not published; my attempt to get this information from a tour operator failed miserably. (These operators apparently think they own the places they fly over and do what they can to keep everyone else out.)

I reached Willow Beach and made my first call. “Helicopter Six-Three-Zero-Mike-Lima at Willow Beach, heading for the bridge at 2500 feet.”

Some wise-ass tour pilot came on the radio and said “Which bridge? Hoover?”

What an idiotic question. There was only one bridge within 60 air miles. Which bridge did he think? What kind of morons are those tour companies hiring?

“Hoover,” I replied.

“Be advised that there will be four Maverick helicopters over the dam in about two minutes,” he replied. No indication of altitude or any other useful information.

Other pilots were more generous. Although the Papillon Pilots seemed to be crossing the river farther south at 3500 feet, the Maverick pilots were operating near the dam at 3000 feet. I planned to say at 2500 feet, which would keep me out of their way.

The bridge came into view around the same time the Maverick helicopters started appearing overhead. They were flying an odd S-shaped pattern that was obviously designed to give all their passengers a view. I did a three-quarter circle from the right to the left as my passengers leaned forward and then left to see. They got a good look — I was not prepared to loiter and they didn’t seem as if they needed me to. Then I was exiting the area along the road to Boulder City.

Hoover Dam and Bridge
The Hoover Dam and its new bridge are a popular tourist attraction for Las Vegas visitors. They’re amazing from the air.

I wasn’t finished yet, though. Another tour operator does very short tours of the dam and bridge from the Hacienda Hotel just up the road. He was preparing to launch as I flew over. He kindly said he’d wait until I’d passed by, then thanked me for talking on the radio. (Apparently, some pilots don’t — that’s a scary thought.) I thanked him for listening.

Not knowing the approach procedures for Boulder City Airport and anxious to stay out of the way of any other tour traffic, I stayed low as I crossed over the city and headed for the airport. (I was later told I’d likely get in trouble for that, but no one ever called. I guess I lucked out.) There were skydivers falling from the sky near the airport so, to stay clear, I circled around to the east and landed along one of the runways. I was still on edge from mixing with so much other traffic when I set down on one of the helicopter parking spots for the FBO.

Boulder City was built 90 years ago to provide a home for dam construction crews. It’s since grown to a vibrant community — the only one in Nevada that does not allow gambling.

We’d been in the air for 2.2 hours and I was ready for a break.

A Bryce Canyon Photo Shoot

Posted on February 20, 2011 by Maria Langer

It’s all about timing.

I’m at Bryce Canyon with one of my aerial photography clients this weekend. Although we’re here to do some aerial work at Bryce and then at the Grand Canyon (and maybe Sedona), we’re grounded due to weather. Yesterday dumped at least 10 inches of snow in the area, blanketing everything with thick white snow. Last night, it started to clear out. My client and I arranged to meet before dawn and see what we could shoot in the park at sunrise.

We met at 6:30 AM. The moon, waning two days past full, was still up and, at one point, was beautifully framed by the tall, snow-covered pines along the park’s entrance road. We pulled over into a cleared area and my client spent about 20 minutes standing in the snow across the road with his tripod and camera. I took the opportunity to touch base with my husband back in Wickenburg.

The clouds were moving in again when we finally got back on the road. My client didn’t have much hope. I was uncertain. I know how quickly conditions can change up here. I also knew that the temperature/dew point spread at the airport 5 miles away was only 2°C — and that meant possible fog. I was hoping some of that fog might be in the canyon.

Inside the park, only two viewpoints were open: Sunrise Point and Sunset Point. Both look out into the “Amphitheater” area , a roughly C shaped canyon facing southeast. My client and I were glad the other road was closed; it meant our brief aerial photo work the next morning was less likely to bother park visitors.

My client steered us to Sunset Point. Two very large snow throwers were at work in the parking area where only two cars were parked. We parked behind one of them, got our gear together, and headed out to the lookout point.

Although the path had been cleared the day before, about 2 inches of fresh powdery snow lay atop the surface. Below that was a sheet of ice. We both walked carefully. The viewpoint was deserted. The view was…well, interesting, but not perfect. The fog I wanted to see was layered in the canyon and at various other places beyond it. There was enough fog to make it interesting without really obscuring the hoodoos — red, column-like rock formations — that we’d come to see. The trouble was, the light was awful. The sun was up, but it was hidden behind thick clouds. The light was gray and lifeless.

The hiking trail down into the canyon was open — despite thick snow covering the pathway. My client, who was prepared to hike in deep snow, announced he was going down. I had the car keys. The idea was that when I got cold, I’d wait for him in the car. My iPad was in there, so I’d be able to read or check e-mail. He headed down and I walked back to the view point to see how things would change.

Another photographer showed up about five minutes later. We got to talking. He was from the Salt Lake City area and had come down the day before. He couldn’t believe all the snow he was seeing had fallen in just that day. As we chatted, we snapped photos. I had my monopod with me; he was shooting handheld. (My client was lugging a very heavy tripod down the trail with him.) A few minutes later, the man’s family joined us. He and his daughter (I assume) headed down the trail, leaving me up top with his wife and other daughter (I assume). We did a lot of chatting and photo snapping as time went on.

First Light The first hint that things might improve came a while later when the sun started breaking through the clouds. I snapped this photo using the HDR function of my iPhone and then fixed it up a bit more in Photoshop to bring out the shadows. Not too impressive. The light faded again right after that and I started thinking about how warm the car might be. But I decided to stick it out a bit longer.

I was glad I did. A few things happened:

The sun rose higher. Of course, I expected that.
The clouds drifted on a gentle breeze to the west. The effect of that was to make it easier for the sun to poke over the top of the cloud bank.
The fog bank began drifting into the canyon.

The effect of all these changes, which occurred over the course of about an hour, was to make an amazing, constantly changing scene in front of me. I began doing real photography. The three photos shown below are among the best I shot.

Snowy Bryce Dawn 1
D7000, f/10 @ 34 mm, 1/400, ISO 400, No Flash

What I like most about this first shot is the laying of the low clouds among the hoodoos in the canyon. This really helped to separate the rock formations and add an element of three-dimensionality. It was also neat to be above the clouds without having to fly there.

I had two lenses with me: a Nikkor 10-24mm and a Nikkor 16-85mm. Although I prefer the 16-85mm lens — it’s the absolute perfect all-purpose lens — I found that I was shooting most photos with the wider view. With my Nikon D7000’s 1.5x crop factor, this lens, at its widest focal length, is equivalent to a 15mm 35mm camera lens. There’s very little distortion — unlike my 10.5mm fisheye, which is fun but not practical. I liked the way it accentuated the sky in some of the earlier shots I took.

For a while, I switched back and forth — no easy feat when wearing gloves and relying on a jacket pocket for lens storage. Later, as the light continued to change, I wound up sticking with the 16-85mm lens, which also had a polarizer on it. That came in handy when the sun had risen high enough over the cloud bank to bring out some of the colors. I’m a big fan of using polarizing filters when the light is right for them. It really can accentuate the outlines of clouds and the blue of the sky, not to mention the red in the rocks.

Snowy Bryce Dawn 2
D7000, f/10 @ 16 mm, 1/400, ISO 400, No Flash

I’m actually a little annoyed about this photo. When I shoot, I compose in the camera with every intention of using the full frame image. In other words, I shoot photos that don’t need to be cropped. This is very easy if you use zoom lenses, which I do, and take the time to compose properly.

The problem with this image is that when I shot it, I included my monopod head, which was leaning against a fence rail, in the lower-left corner of the picture. It ruined the photo. The only way to “fix” it was to crop it. This was the best I could do. It is not as I intended. I may attempt to remove the monopod head with Photoshop in the future, but I generally don’t like doing things like that. We’ll see.

Bryce Canyon Lone Pine
D7000, f/11 @ 24 mm, 1/500, ISO 400, No Flash

I like to shoot foreground items with interesting backgrounds. This tree, with the fog, clouds, and sky behind it to separate it from the background details, made a great foreground subject. And what could be more interesting in the background than snow-covered red rock hoodoos?

In all, I shot about 50 images over the course of 90 minutes. These were the three I liked most after viewing them on my laptop. I might find other favorites when I get back to my office and have time to look at them again.

I should mention that my camera was outfitted with its Nikon GPS, which worked like a charm to encode location information into each shot. This was the first time I used it. The device is awkward and I’m not sure how often I’ll really want to use it. I might reserve it for tripod-based work.

The fog bank continued to move in and eventually blocked out the sun again. The overlook chilled back down to its pre-sun temperature. Down below, on the trail, my client and the two other people who’d gone down started back up. The dad and his daughter arrived first and the family left together. When I realized my client had stopped for more photos, I decided to head back to the car. He joined me about 20 minutes later.

It had been a nice morning shoot, despite the cold. My client says there’s too much snow on the hoodoos for the aerial shoot we need to do before heading south again. While I agree that there’s a lot, I don’t think there’s too much. The red rocks are still clearly visible and should look great from the air.

As I write this four hours after our return, the snow is falling again. Let’s hope it doesn’t add much more to the scenery here.

Today’s Snowy Adventure

Posted on February 19, 2011 by Maria Langer

Comment

A comedy of errors in four acts.

I’m at Bryce Canyon this morning. I flew up here with a client to do an aerial photo shoot. We knew the weather was going to get bad today and made sure we arrived yesterday, before we couldn’t get in at all. Based on the forecast, we figured we’d get the shoot done on Sunday afternoon and Monday morning before heading down to the Grand Canyon to do a shoot there.

The weather was surprisingly good and, if it hadn’t been so windy, we probably would have attempted the shoot on arrival. Instead, we parked the helicopter and I slipped on its blade hail covers, which I’d brought along. We’re not expecting hail, but I figured (correctly, according to two cold-climate pilots I spoke to) that the covers would also keep snow and ice off the blade surfaces. Unfortunately, there was no way to guarantee that snow wouldn’t accumulate on top of the covers. Heavy snow or ice sitting on the covers on the blades could cause them to droop excessively; if that happened, the blade droop stops could be damaged. So I’d have to keep an eye on the situation, possibly by making multiple trips to the airport during the weekend. The airport is 3 or 4 miles from the hotel we’re staying in, Ruby’s Inn. My client rented a car.

After checking in at Ruby’s the weather got better and better. My client went into the park to photograph the hoodoos and stayed there to watch the moon rise. He told me later that he took 20-minute exposures of the hoodoos lighted by just the moon and they look like they were shot in daylight. (I’m looking forward to seeing them.) I elected to stay in my room. I’m recovering from a nasty cold that just about ruined my vacation. It was cold out — probably around 35°F before sunset — and the heater works very well in my room. When I finally turned in for the night around 9 PM, the moon was shining brightly in what looked like a perfectly clear sky.

Hard to believe the weather forecast said 80% chance of snow in less than 2 hours.

Act I: The Snow Begins

Things were different when I woke up at about 3:40 AM. There was probably about 2 inches of snow on the ground and more coming down. Two hours later, when it started to get light, there was at least another 2 inches. Not much wind, either. I started wondering how much 4 inches of snow on 14-foot long helicopter rotor blades weighed.

At about 7 AM, my client showed up outside my door. I saw him through the window; he didn’t want to knock. I opened it. By then, the snow was quite impressive, piled up on everyone’s car. The wind had begun to blow a bit, too.

“Look at all this snow,” he said. “We can’t go to the airport to check the helicopter. The car is just a sedan. No four wheel drive.”

In all honesty, it didn’t look that bad yet. I recall driving 40 miles in snow twice as deep — in a 1987 Toyota MR2. Not exactly an all-terrain vehicle.

I told him I’d call the airport. I did. No one answered. I left a message asking them to peek out the window and report back to me about the rotor blades. But at the rate the snow was falling, I wasn’t willing to wait long for a report. I told my client I’d try again in a half hour. Otherwise, I needed to go.

The snow kept falling. The wind was blowing but didn’t seem to be making a dent in the accumulations on the tops of cars and trucks parked silently in the lot below my window.

Act II: Our Drive to the Airport — and Confrontation with a Jerk

Dressed for Winter At 7:30, after getting no answer at the airport again, I got dressed in my best effort at winter gear. That meant a cotton turtleneck shirt with a cotton long sleeved shirt over that, a pair of nylon/spandex leggings with a pair of denim jeans over that, cotton socks, sneakers (I left from Phoenix where I don’t keep a pair of boots), my wool scarf, my leather jacket (with lamb fleece collar removed so as not to gather snow), ear warmer head band, baseball cap, and wooly gloves. The only pieces of clothing from my suitcase that I wasn’t wearing were my pajamas, the shirt I’d worn the day before, and one extra shirt I’d brought along. I looked ridiculous (see photo; I don’t think putting this photo on Craig’s List would get me in as much trouble as this guy’s photo did) but figured I’d be warm enough.

I went to my client’s door. He was wearing sweatpants, having a cup of coffee. He didn’t look ready to go out. I told him I’d start scraping the snow off the car. He protested quite loudly, but I just went.

Partially Cleared Snow I had a plastic shopping bag with me and I used it to cover one arm. (The goal was to keep as dry as possible.) I then used sweeping motions to get the snow off the car. It didn’t take long. The snow was a bit wet but moved easily. Not very heavy. But there was at least 8 inches of it accumulated. What would that weigh on my blades? I was starting to get very nervous about it.

A plow came through the parking lot leaving the inevitable snow bank behind the car.

My client appeared. He told me he was going to buy an ice scraper. I pointed out that there wasn’t any ice. I asked him to start the engine and use the wiper blades to finish off the front window. I recleared the side and back window; another 1/4 inch of snow had already blanketed them.

While he backed up, I stood at the hood, pushing. He didn’t seem to have much trouble moving it, but made the fatal error of turning the wheel before he’d cleared the snowbank. The back end of the car plowed into it and the car was stuck fast.

I started work on the snowbank. By this time, two other cars had successfully extracted themselves. Two guys hurried over to help us. When the car wouldn’t budge, one asked if he could sit at the wheel. My client stepped out and the other guy got in. With three of us pushing at the hood and the driver’s good “rocking” skills, the car was soon extracted. I asked if we could help them with their car and they assured us that wasn’t necessary. They had four-wheel drive.

My client wound his way through the plowed area of the parking lot and into the main road. He was not a happy camper. But the road didn’t seem slippery, and at our slow speed, we weren’t sliding around at all. The main trouble was seeing the road. Everything was white and the road surface perfectly matched the white snowbanks on either side. Visibility was probably about 1/4 mile. The airport’s weather system was reporting freezing fog and now I knew what that looked like.

When we reached the junction of Highway 12, we stopped. There was no one around us in any direction. From inside the car, it was impossible to see if the road had been plowed at all. So I got out to take a look. It had been plowed, but not recently. It had tire tracks on it. It looked doable.

But before I could begin convincing my client/driver to continue on, a beat up old pickup truck made the turn onto our road. Because we were stopped in the middle of the road, he pulled in on our right side, facing into incoming traffic (if there had been any). He got out and told us we needed to be off the road. The conversation went something like this:

Him: You need to get off the road.
Me: We’re just checking road conditions. We’re going to the airport.
Him: Do you know where that is?
Me: About a mile or two that way. (I pointed into the whiteness of Route 12.)
Him: You need to turn around and go back.
Me: We can’t turn around here.
Him: Then I’ll call a tow truck.
Me: We don’t need a tow truck. We’re not stuck.
Him: Then I’ll call the sheriff.
Me: Why?
Him: You need to get out of the road.
Me: We will. We’re just looking at the road conditions before deciding what to do.
Him: I’ll call the sheriff.
Me: [exasperated and tired of maintaining a pointless conversation with a self-important moron] Go ahead.

Meanwhile, my client was beginning to freak out. He’s not American born and although his English is good, I don’t think he was able to keep up with our rapid-fire exchange. He did, however, hear the word sheriff twice, and he assumed we’d done something serious enough to possibly get arrested.

Him being freaked out wasn’t helping matters. He already was worried about continuing on the road. Now we had this jerk partially blocking our car, talking to someone on his cell phone. I needed to get to the airport. I knew it was possible. I had to convince my client. Finally, all I managed to do was convince him to let me drive. But the jerk was still blocking us. Tooting the horn had no affect.

That’s when I got pissed off.

I got out of the car and walked around to his window. I could tell by his uniform shirt that he worked for a gas station or something. I asked him where he worked and he said he worked for the tow truck operator across from our hotel. (Figures.) I told him I didn’t like his attitude and would be talking to his boss. He held the phone out so whoever was on it could hear me and I repeated loudly at the phone, “Your attitude sucks and I’ll talk to your boss about it.” I started to walk away, but then turned back and said, “Now get the fuck out of our way.” (Once a New Yorker, always a New Yorker.)

As I walked away, he got back out of the truck and started shouting at my back. “Well, I’m also the fire chief in [redacted] and on the EMT team and — ” I didn’t hear the rest. I was already in the car with my door closed. He, of course, didn’t move. Instead, he made a big show of walking behind the car, apparently to get our license plate number, further freaking out my client. I had to carefully make my way around his piece-of-crap truck, avoiding the deep snow bank on my left as well as I could. Then I made the left turn onto Route 12 and headed toward the airport.

The going was easy. But what really surprised me is that the airport road was plowed. The only problem was the snow bank from our road to that one. So we got out, leaving the car in the middle of the deserted road, and worked on it. I discovered that a floor mat, when wielded by two people, works very well as a scraping shovel. I turned the corner and saw a big front-end loader coming toward us. The airport guy was using it to plow the road. We stopped and talked to him. He said there wasn’t much snow at all on the helicopter. Then he told us where we could turn around safely past his house down the road.

We continued to the airport and were very surprised to see that there was hardly any snow on the helicopter at all. The wind was doing all the work for me. All those worries for nothing. We stopped and talked to the airport guy again. He volunteered to keep an eye on the helicopter and clear snow off it needed. He was a good, reliable, friendly guy. I felt all my worries fade away as we said goodbye and headed back to the hotel.

Act III: Black Ice

If you’ve ever driven in fresh snow, you might know that some snow is actually quite easy to drive in. It’s the stuff that’s not too wet and not too dry. It packs under your tires as you drive but doesn’t turn to ice in the process. That’s what we’d been driving on until we got to the airport road.

The airport road, however, was freshly plowed. Maybe it was the sight of that clean black pavement on the road in front of me that gave me the confidence I needed to drive at 20 miles per hour rather than a more conservative 10 or 15. Unfortunately, what I didn’t realize is that I wasn’t looking at pavement. I was looking at the half-inch layer of solid, smooth ice that sat on top of it.

Black ice.

There’s a tiny bend in the airport road before you reach Route 12. It’s so slight, it doesn’t even show up on a map. As I turned the wheel to the left to make this bend, the tires started to skid. My client reacted by saying the appropriate frightened passenger words. I pumped the brakes gently and, for a second, had it under control. Then more skidding and more right seat panic. My brain shut off and my foot pressed the brake down hard. Then it was all over.

In slow motion, the car skidded nose first into the snow bank on the right side of the road.

Shit.

It was stuck good. I couldn’t even get it to move an inch in either direction. The front wheel drive tires were sitting right on some of that black ice and all they could do was spin. We worked on it for a good ten to fifteen minutes, even putting the floor mats behind each tire in case it moved. No joy. And I do mean that literally.

We retreated into the car where I tried to get the airport guy on the phone. He didn’t pick up his cell. I called another number on the airport’s voice mail message system and reached a guy in Las Vegas. He was the airport guy’s boss. He said that he was out on the plow (which I knew) and probably couldn’t hear the phone ring. I told him our predicament. He told me to call 911. I said, “No, this isn’t an emergency. We’re in a warm car with plenty of gas within sight of Route 12. One way or another, we’ll get out without emergency assistance. Let them take care of heart attacks and accidents.” I think he was surprised by my take on 911. I asked him to mention us to the airport guy if he happened to call back.

I thought about calling AAA and realized that they’d likely call the jerk I’d cussed at and he’d likely not come. (Yeah, yeah, save the lectures.)

I started walking back toward the airport while my client yelled at me to stay in the car. I had to slip and fall twice on that damn black ice before heeding his words.

I tried the airport guy a few more times. On the third time, he answered. I told him our predicament. He told me he’d be right out. I told him to take his time. Warm up, have some coffee. We could wait. My client agreed. “Bring a shovel, though,” I added.

He showed up about 15 minutes later with his big front-end loader and turned it around so its back end faced the back end of our car. Then we hunted around for a place to tie onto the car. In the old days, imports — this was a Mazda — had these loops on the front and back of the car to tie them down during the boat ride from Japan. This one didn’t have those. But he found a loop on the frame. Trouble was, his chain wasn’t long enough to reach it.

He climbed back into his rig. By that time it was snowing very hard and the wind was blowing it almost horizontally. When he came back, he told me he’d made some calls and couldn’t get chain long enough to do the job.

“What do you think our options are?” I asked him.

“Well, I called the rental company for you and they said they could send a tow truck for $45.”

I’d already told him about our confrontation with the jerk. “The same tow company that guy I had a fight with works for?”

“I can ask them not to send [redacted jerk’s name],” he promised, grinning at me.

“Then do it,” I said. “I’ll pay $45. Cash if they want it.”

He made the call. I overheard him say, “You have to send [redacted jerk’s name]?” and I said, “I’ll pay $75 if they don’t.” He laughed and said, they’re just pulling your leg.

Call done, he told us to wait in the car. My client had been shoveling snow the whole time. I told the airport guy to go back and we’d be okay. He said he’d stick around just in case [redacted jerk’s name] showed up. I offered to let him wait with us in the car, but he preferred the backhoe.

We got back in the car. My client was really freaked out by the snow accumulation and the prospect of driving back to the hotel. That surprised me because he lived in Chicago and was no stranger to snow. But he told me that at home he had a truck with some sort of special snow driving gear. I didn’t get the details, but it seemed that he was convinced such special equipment was required for driving in the snow.

Whatever.

I just felt like an idiot for skidding into the snow bank and getting stuck. I know nothing had been damaged other than my pride, but I resolved to rent my own car on any future trips to shield my clients from the consequences of my stupidity.

Act IV: The Happy Ending

The tow guys showed up a while later and [redacted jerk’s name] was not among them. One of them asked me if I was the one [redacted jerk’s name] had a fight with. I admitted I was and we all had a good laugh. It took some work to get the car out and all three of the guys helping us nearly fell on their butts because of the damn black ice. Every single time one of them slipped, they’d comment on it. It was really nasty stuff. When the car was out, they said they’d be just as happy if we paid via AAA — in other words, making it a free tow — and urged us to do so. That worked for me.

I told the airport guy that I owed him big time but he insisted we were even. Even? How? I hadn’t done him any favors. At least not yet. I’ll think of something and if I don’t come up with a good one, I’ll leave my friend Ben Franklin on his desk before I fly out on Monday.

My client drove back with me pointing out the road. He was still having trouble seeing it. The tow guys followed us. We went into the gas station where my client took care of paperwork. He told me he would put it on his AAA, but he wound up paying instead, worried that he’d need the tow again later in the day and knowing that AAA doesn’t respond twice in one day. (I’ll put a $45 credit on his bill for this job.) I slipped each of the tow guys $10 in plain sight of [redacted jerk’s name] who appeared outside as we arrived, apparently looking for sunglasses left in their truck. We all ignored him. (In real life, as in online forums, the best policy is usually to ignore the assholes.)

Meanwhile, my jeans were completely soaked and I was starving. My client and I went into Ruby’s for breakfast. While we waited for coffee, he urged me to check out the boots they had available in the adjacent store. I went into the store, but instead of looking at the boots, I found a pair of sweatpants. I used the fitting room to peel off my jeans, surprised that the leggings beneath them were dry. I put on the sweats and went right to the cash register, picking out a pair of socks on the way and carrying my wet pants and newly washed sneakers. “I’m buying these now,” I told the cashier, reaching into the back and pulling the price tag off. We had a good laugh as she rung me up. It was the first time I’d ever spent $16 on a pair of socks, but desperate times require desperate measures. I was back at the table before my coffee was cold and received the scolding delivered by my client because I’d come back without new shoes.

I changed my socks while my client was outside having a smoke and I was at the table waiting for our meals.

Breakfast was typical Ruby’s. I’d like just once to get a good meal with good service there.

My client dropped me off at my room before venturing into the park. Visibility is so low that I think it’ll take quite some time for conditions to improve enough for photography. But that’s what he’s here for.

Me, I’m just along for the ride until it’s time to fly.

And yes, I’ll keep my hands off his rental car.

An Eclectic Mind

Web site and blog for Maria Langer, writer, video producer, jewelry artist, boat captain, and helicopter pilot. Blogging since 2004.

Category Archives: Travels with Maria