Category Archives: Travels with Maria

Blogging from the road.

A Trip around the Peninsula, Day 1: Wenatchee to Port Angeles

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We take a road trip around the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state.

After three months contractually bound to the Quincy and Wenatchee areas of Washington, I was finally off contract at the end of August. Mike flew out to Washington and we went on a road trip to the Olympic Peninsula. This series of blog posts is a summary of that trip, with photos.

The start of our five-day vacation.

After fueling our diesel pickup — the only vehicle available to us here — we headed out of Wenatchee on Route 2 toward Stevens Pass. We made a number of stops along the way.

First, Anjou Bakery in Monitor, which makes an outrageously good pear danish. It’s in a funky old building with indoor and outdoor seating. They make coffee drinks, too, but I’ve decided to avoid that on my next trip. Their coffee isn’t very good — at least in my opinion — and it takes far too long for them to prepare it.

Next, Leavenworth. If you’ve ever been to Leavenworth, you’ll know that it’s a manufactured tourist town. They redid the entire town with a Bavarian theme, making it feel almost as if you’re in a Black Forest village somewhere in Germany. (I’ve actually been to Germany’s Black Forest, so I can attest to this.)

For the record, I don’t like Leavenworth. It’s a fake place that exists primarily for tourism. The parking and traffic situation is horrendous. Its multiple shops and restaurants are designed to suck tourists in and relieve them of their money. Little of what they offer is any better than you’d find at any other similarly themed tourist shop or town. I know that all tourist towns are like this and I don’t like any of them. Frankly, I don’t know why so many people go there.

But Leavenworth does have two shops that I love:

  • The Cheesemonger is possibly the best cheese shop I’ve ever been to. Not only do they have an amazing selection of cheeses from around the world, but they are well-staffed with knowledgable and helpful counter people. Cheese tasting is not only allowed but encouraged. This shop is my primary reason for subjecting myself to a trip to Leavenworth.
  • Cured is a smoked meat shop where you can get excellent bacon, sausage, wursts, jerkies, and more. Their buckboard bacon is to die for. If I make a cheese run, I also stop here for meats. Bonus: there’s motorcycle parking right across the street.

On this visit, we also stopped at the Bavarian Bakery on the right as you come into town from Wenatchee. It was recommended by the folks at Cured for bread; they hadn’t received their delivery yet and I like their rolls with the cheese. My grandfather was German and owned a bakery in Cresskill, NJ when I was a kid. For a while, my family lived in an apartment upstairs. So visiting a real German bakery was a treat for me. We bought some plum cake (which my Grandfather also made), pretzels, a coffee cake, and the rolls. I wasn’t terribly impressed with any of it, but it wasn’t bad. I’m just picky.

We loaded up the cooler that we’d brought along and headed out of town on Chumstick Road. That would take us winding through the mountains, though the tiny town of Plain before reaching Lake Wenatchee. At Route 207, we headed northwest, following 207, then Little Wenatchee Road, then National Forest Development Road 65. I’d ridden this route on my motorcycle the week before but had turned back after 10 miles or so because I wasn’t sure whether it was paved the entire distance.

We took a side trip, following a sign that promised a View Point 4 miles up an unpaved road. The road wound up and around through dense forest, finally depositing us at the promised viewpoint. We could see Lake Wenatchee in the light haze.

Another couple was there — a bit older than us and seriously out of shape. They were wrestling with something heavy in a blanket, trying to get it into the back of their pickup. We didn’t snoop until they were gone. Then we followed the short trail they’d come from and discovered a place where people had been cutting stone from the side of the hill. Cutting, like with a stone-cutting saw. The kind of equipment that requires a generator and probably water to cool the blade. I don’t think they had that equipment; they might have been taking a loose rock. It looked like granite to me, but it could have been something else. (What do I know about rocks?) The whole thing was weird; it had taken us 20 minutes to drive the 4 miles; why would anyone lug stone-cutting equipment up there?

We continued along the Forest Road and, sure enough, not far from where I’d turned around on my motorcycle, the pavement ended. We followed the road through the forest, enjoying the views along the way. At one point, a Jeep caught up to us and we pulled aside so it could pass. Otherwise, there wasn’t much in the way of traffic.

Old Growth TreeI should mention that much of this was old growth forest. An absolutely huge tree grew close to the road and we got out to take a closer look. Its amazing to me that trees this large exist and that so many of them have been cut down. Actually seeing one is a real treat.

The road we were on ended at Route 2 and we continued through Stevens Pass and down to the west side of the Cascades. That’s when the traffic started up. It was Labor Day afternoon and everyone who had journeyed east for the weekend was heading home. I whipped out my iPad and the Maps app and found some alternate routes that paralleled Route 2. We probably saved about 30 minutes of drive time by taking these longer routes, each of which dumped us back on Route 2 after a pleasant drive through farmland or forest. Then we abandoned Route 2 completely in favor of Routes 522 and 524.

We stopped at Snoqualmie Ice Cream shop in Malby. The ice cream was good, but, in my opinion, not worth the very high price we paid for it. And the girl at the counter who served it had the personality of a wet rag.

Sailboat on Puget Sound with Mount Baker in BackgroundBack on the road, we continued along Route 524 to Edmonds and got on line for the ferry to Kingston. We’d timed it well and didn’t have to wait more than 15 minutes to get on the boat. We went up on deck to check out the view. Mount Baker was clearly visible to the northeast and even Mount Rainier could be seen through the haze to the south. I passed the time photographing sailboats we passed, trying to get Mount Baker in the background.

In Kingston, we didn’t hang around. It was getting late and we were hungry and unsure of where we’d be spending the night. We’d already planned on spending Day 2 in Victoria, BC, so we wanted an overnight stay someplace close to Port Angeles, where we’d pick up the ferry. So we headed that way on Route 104 and then 101.

We detoured to Dungeness. I don’t know what we expected to find there, but we didn’t find any interesting lodging opportunities. We did, however, find the Three Crabs Restaurant right on the bay. If I had to rate this place on service or atmosphere, I’d pan it. It had all the charm of a cheap family restaurant catering to people with low expectations. But the food — well that was a pleasant surprise. I had the best fried oysters ever — and I don’t toss around the word “best” very often at all. That made it worth the visit. (And here’s a tip to restaurant-goers who rate restaurants on Google, Yelp, etc.: don’t order steak in a seafood place.)

We got back on the road and headed toward Port Angeles. By this time, it was getting dark. My maps app suggested the Olympic Lodge and we homed in on it. It was a bit bigger and fancier than we expected. But it was evidently also empty. We went to the desk and they offered us a discounted rate within our price range. We took it. The room was large and comfortable. A fountain at ground level outside our window offered a nice soundtrack to a good night’s sleep.

Our Route:

Silver Falls

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A motorcycle ride and a hike.

I had my 1992 Yamaha Seca II motorcycle shipped up to Washington State so I’d have something other than the pickup truck to ride around in while I’m here. Not only does it get about 50 mpg (compared with the trucks 15 or so mpg), but it’s a hell of a lot more fun to get around in.

When it first arrived, I discovered — without any real surprise — that my motorcycling skills were extremely rusty. I took it for a few short rides to get get the feel for it again. Then I took it to Chelan to visit a friend. And I’ve been riding it a few times a week since then.

But it was yesterday that the rust finally shook off.

Along Entiat Road

I decided that it was high time to take it out on some mildly challenging twisty roads. After consulting a map, I decided on Entiat Road (County Highway 19), which winds up the side of the Entiat River. The road is only about 38 miles long — or at least that’s what I gathered by the “Road Ends 38 miles” sign near where I picked up the road in Entiat on the Columbia River. I figured I’d ride it until either it or the pavement ended.

I left Wenatchee Heights at noon and, after winding my way through the city of Wenatchee and up route 97 toward Chelan, reached the turnoff for Entiat road at about 12:30. It was a typical two-lane road in good condition, smooth with no loose gravel. I was able to open up the bike and get some good practice leaning into the curves at speed. I drove past orchards snuggled into the valley — the apples and pears still hung, ripening, while the cherries had already been picked.

I was hungry — I hadn’t eaten before leaving — and figured I’d stop for lunch at the first place I found along the road. That first place happened to be about 10 miles up the road at Ardenvoir, a place called Cooper’s Store. It was also the last place; a sign nearby said “No services past this point.” It didn’t look very appealing, but I didn’t have a choice, so I parked the bike and pulled off all my gear: helmet, gloves, denim jacket. A sign outside said “Food voted five stars by Odee.” So, of course, when I went inside I asked who Odee was. Turned out to be the owner’s dog, an aged terrier that came up to sniff my hand when he heard his name.

I had a chili burger. In Arizona, that’s a burger with a green chili on it. At Cooper’s Store, it’s a burger under a heap of chili con carne with chopped onions and shredded cheese. To put a positive spin on it — it’s always nice to stay positive, no? — I can confirm that it was edible. I grabbed a popsicle out of the freezer in the store for dessert, paid up, and went outside. I sat on a bench out front to eat my popsicle. Three vehicles went by. A Jeep stopped at the store and the driver went inside while the passenger looked at me sitting on the bench. I guess there was nothing else to look at. Finished, I geared up and continued on my way.

The road continued up the river, sometimes quite close, past farms and homes and unlikely subdivisions that had never been sold. Many of the homes were for sale. Lots of waterfront property. A beautiful log house, brand new, with a “For Sale” sign on it. A real homesteaded property. An area that had obviously suffered a forest fire only a few years before — the weathered skeletons of burned trees were all that remained with tall grass on otherwise bare hills.

I have no idea how far up the road I was — 20 miles? 30? — when the pavement became rough and a sign informed me that I was entering the Wenatchee National Forest. No more homes along the side of the road. Now it was just tall pines along steep inclines with sharp curves in the bumpy road. I slowed down after being jarred violently going over a bump. A sign mentioned a place called Silver Falls 8 miles farther up and I figured that was as good a destination as any.

The Hike

My Yamaha at Silver FallsThere were National Forest Campgrounds along the side of the river. I passed two before I reached the parking area and campground for Silver Falls. I parked and stripped off my gear, locking it up in my bike’s Givi saddlebags. Looking up, I saw the top of the falls — can you see it in the photo? It didn’t seem that far away.

I checked the information kiosk. There was no information about the hike, although I could clearly see a trail disappearing into the forest across the road. I did see that there was a $5 day use fee. Although it was midweek and I thought I’d only be there a short while, I know how much the parks are struggling. So I filled out the form on an envelope, put a $5 bill in it, and tucked it into the payment slot. Then I grabbed my camera and started the hike.

At Silver FallsI immediately found myself in a deep, somewhat dark pine forest. As my eyes adjusted to the light, my nose picked up the scent of pine and moisture and my ears heard the sound of rushing water. I came upon the creek immediately — a healthy stream of water gushing over rocks between trees. For me — a desert dweller — it was a real treat.

Rustic BridgeThe path was well-maintained, with rustic protective barriers to prevent hikers from accidentally falling into the stream. The bridges were especially rustic looking, sometimes with curved logs making attractive rails. It was surprising to find something so attractively designed on a trail. I began to wonder how much of the trail dated back to the CCC days, when National Forest trail projects were a source of employment during the Great Depression.

I followed the path as it climbed gently upstream, first on one side, then the other. The trail forked at a bridge where I stopped for a rest. A family of three was just coming down the right side of the creek. “It’s worth it,” the Dad assured me.

I continued up the way they’d come down. The trail began to climb. It moved away from the creek and then back to it, offering stunning views of the rushing water. The farther I went, the steeper the trail got. In many places, it was rock steps. I paused at another rest spot. The mist from the falls chilled the otherwise hot air. I could see the main falls above me. When another family joined me, I asked whether the trail went all the way to the top. The Dad told me it did. Remembering the other guy’s assurance, I continued the hike.

At one point, the trail came back to the creek just beneath a large fall. Although the rustic wooden logs made it clear where the trail stopped, I did as many others had likely done and slipped beneath the two rails. I was able to safely get to a spot beneath the waterfall, tucked under a rocky ledge. I experimented with my camera, trying hard to protect it from the mist, until mosquitos found me and I decided to move on.

Behind the Waterfall

After that point, the trail swung far from the stream — so far that I could no longer hear the water’s flow. It also leveled out. Perhaps I’d misunderstood the other hiker? Perhaps that spot under the falls was as high up as the trail would go? Perhaps it would continue back along the mountainside, away from the falls?

Purple FlowersBut I stuck with it and was rewarded with a switchback and another climb. A while later, I was back alongside the stream at yet another streamside bench, photographing some beautiful purple flowers just past the peak of bloom.

It was then that I noticed a similar rest area on the other side of the creek. The trail had split and, apparently, the other trail climbed up the other side. Would they meet again at the top, forming a loop? Could there possibly be another bridge? It was too much to hope for. I’d assumed I’d be returning the way I’d come. Now I was starting to wonder.

I continued on my way, up more stairs and another turn away from the creek. After another switchback, I returned to the creek and saw the bridge over a smaller falls. I spent a lot of time up there, relaxing in the shade, snapping photos of the water falling over the rocks. Again and again I wished I’d had a tripod or at least my monopod along with me — the shade was dark in the dense forest.

Bridge at the Top of the Falls

Stairs on the TrailThen I started down the other side of the creek. At first, it was one long flight of stairs after another. Then the trail moved away from the falls in a series of relatively level paths with switchbacks. In some places, the trail emerged from the forest into the sun; not only could I feel the heat on my skin, but I could smell it. Then back into the trees for cooling shade and pine aromas.

Waterfall with RainbowAt one point, the trail came back to the falls just below where I’d walked along the ledge on the other side. The mist and sun worked together to produce a small rainbow. I did the best I could to capture the scene with my camera; I really do need to learn how to photograph waterfalls properly.

A while later, I was back near place where the trail had split. I took my time following the trail back out to the main road. The parking lot was empty except for my motorcycle.

It was 4:30 PM. I’d been there for nearly 2 hours.

I’d gotten my $5 worth of nature — and more.

The Ride Back

Although the road continued farther up the river, I was tired and thirsty. I figured I’d save it for another day — perhaps a day when I could share it with someone. So I geared up and pulled out.

I did take time to check out the three campgrounds I passed on the way back. The first and third were partially occupied and had nice sites looking out over the Entiat River. I’m not sure, but I think I could get the mobile mansion into at least some of the spots if I wanted to. It would be tough, though. The second campground was deserted and I could understand why; the sites were small and unappealing. None of the campgrounds had utilities, although they all had centralized water spigots and outhouses. The single campground host was not around.

I rode more aggressively on the way back. I felt as if I’d regained a lot of the motorcycling skill I’d had back in the 90s when we rode all the time. It felt good to lean deeply into the curves and accelerate through them, especially when I was out of the National Forest and the road conditions were a little better.

I passed Cooper’s Store with only a momentary thought of stopping in. I do wish I’d taken a photo, though. The Odee sign was pretty funny.

The motorcycle started losing power about 5 miles from the end of the road. I was able to switch to the Reserve setting while moving and before the engine quit.

At the junction of Route 97, I turned left toward the town of Entiat. My first concern was fuel; I took 3.6 gallons. Then I pulled up to 97 Brew, one of Washington State’s ubiquitous drive-through coffee stands. I rode up on the shady side and after getting my smoothie, asked if it was okay to stay parked there in the shade until someone else pulled up. No problem. I sucked my smoothie down while reading an article on the Web on my phone.

Then I geared up again and headed south on 97. About 40 minutes later, after winding my way through Wenatchee traffic, I was back in my RV. It was 6 PM.

Travel Insanity

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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

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 NevadaAt 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, NVThe 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

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

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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 VillageSo 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 PlateauThe 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 DawnDay 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 SnowI 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 HelicopterBut 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 CanyonI 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 JuniperNow 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.

Echo CliffsThe 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

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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
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
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
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.

Mohave Valley
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.

Laughlin, NV
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.

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

Lake Mohave
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.

Colorado 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
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.

More about this trip in another post…