Category Archives: Flying

Stories about flying — for pleasure or for hire — and the things I’ve learned.

Buying N7534D

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The saga of my recent aircraft purchase.

By now, regular readers know that I crashed the helicopter I bought brand new in 2005 and have owned for the past 13 years, N630ML. I started looking for a replacement almost immediately. After all, cherry drying season was just a few months away and I needed to make sure I had something to fly.

To Buy or Not to Buy

As I mentioned in another blog post about the aftermath of the crash, I did have a brief period when I considered not replacing the helicopter at all. It would have been nice to just stick that big, fat insurance check into the bank and ease out of my flying career. I could still manage my cherry contracts and, without the cost of a helicopter, would probably net nearly as much money as I would if I flew. To this day, I wonder whether I should have done just that.

But the truth of the matter is, I’m not ready to stop flying. I enjoy exploring the world around me from the air. I enjoy giving passengers an opportunity to see the area from a new perspective. I enjoy giving kids their very first helicopter rides at events. I enjoy landing Santa Claus next to Pybus Public Market in downtown Wenatchee with hundreds of kids and parents looking on. And yes, sometimes I even enjoy cherry drying.

So although I’ve been thinking about retirement for the past few years, I didn’t expect to do so until 2025 at the very earliest. After a lot of thought about it, I still think that’s a good idea. I’ll keep flying until it isn’t fun anymore — or my body tells me to give it up.

Of course, that didn’t mean I needed to buy a helicopter. I could lease one. I did talk to one leasing agent about that with the idea of leasing only half a year. I discovered that leasing companies don’t like short term leases and that if I did lease, I wouldn’t make any money at all. Lease rates and minimums are just too high for organizations that don’t fly at least 25 hours a month. I fly a lot less than that.

The Search Begins

But I’m getting ahead of myself here. I actually started shopping before I started thinking — which is never a good idea.

A few days after the accident, my insurance agent recommended a helicopter broker based in Florida to start my search. If you’ve ever owned a Robinson helicopter I guarantee you’ve gotten at least one postcard mailing from this guy. I’d actually met him once when I was researching operations to do the overhaul on Zero-Mike-Lima; his company had an authorized Robinson service center. I started working with him right away to find a replacement.

I figured that I should replace the helicopter with something just like it. Zero-Mike-Lima was a 2005 R44 Raven II model just a year out of overhaul. I’d insured it for what I thought it was worth: $350K. I had a loan on it to pay for part of that overhaul. I figured that the insurance would pay off the loan and give me enough for a good downpayment on another helicopter in about the same condition. I could get another loan for about the same amount and continue operating as if nothing had happened.

I soon realized that I’d erred in estimating the value of Zero-Mike-Lima — by about $50K. That became apparent when I started looking at what was available via the broker’s listings. Still, I found one in Canada that I really liked, mostly because it was just like Zero-Mike-Lima on the inside. I think it was a year newer. Tan leather with a standard VFR panel, just out of overhaul. They were asking $389K.

I spoke to a bunch of people who know about helicopters. (I was, after all, still at Heli-Expo.) Several said that the Canadian version of the FAA — I think it’s the CAA? — had higher standards than the FAA so the ships were usually in better shape. Others said the Canadian helicopter market was soft and that I should offer 10% less than the asking price. 10% was nearly $40K and I didn’t want to insult anyone. So I offered $360K, keeping in mind that I’d be spending $10K to $20K to get it into the country and registered with the FAA.

I was turned down with no counteroffer.

I exchanged numerous emails and a few phone calls with the broker. What was the best price I could get? Would the seller help me get the ship into the US? Would they pay for import taxes or fees?

The seller remained firm on the price and wouldn’t even transport the helicopter to the border less than 50 miles away.

Now keep in mind that I’ve bought and sold more than a few large ticket item assets in my life: helicopters, condos, apartment buildings, homes, cars. I’ve never bought or sold at the asking price. So when these Canadians stayed firm, I was surprised and more than a little pissed off. Fuck them, I thought in typical native New Yorker style, and I kept looking.

By this time, I was on my way home from Vegas in my truck with my camper and boat behind me. I stopped in Mcminnville, OR, to look at another ship just out of overhaul. It seemed to be in good enough condition and the seller was definitely motivated. But there was something about the ship that I just didn’t like. The inside looked tired. And I definitely did not like the panel, which was set up for instrument training and had an unfamiliar audio setup. The seller was asking $390K and I got hints that he’d accept less. I told him I’d think about it and continued my trip, part of me thinking I should make an offer while the other part had a problem paying that kind of money for something I didn’t really like.

Online Shopping

With no other options coming from the broker, it was time to get serious. I went online to start my search in earnest about two days after I got home from California with my truck and camper. That was about ten days after the accident.

I was still pretty sore and not feeling 100%. I’d been pushing myself hard since the accident, traveling to Las Vegas the very same day, attending Heli-Expo every day the following week, and then driving from Las Vegas to my Washington State home over a period of five days. (I just counted them and can’t believe it took me that long. I would normally do it in two days.)

So on Thursday morning, I sat at my breakfast bar with a cup of coffee and my laptop and started searching for options on the three sites most likely to have listings for what I was looking for:

I found the most listings on Controller. I started making notes and sending email messages. I started thinking and re-thinking my options. Maybe I should get a ship that was a little farther out of overhaul? One that would cost less so I could take out a smaller loan? I started making and getting calls to and from sellers. I was having trouble keeping the options straight in my head.

And that’s when the headaches started.

You see, although I wasn’t knocked unconscious in the accident and I didn’t have any obvious head injuries and I wasn’t diagnosed with a concussion or anything like that, my brain wasn’t quite ready to go back to work. When I described the accident and the bouncing the cockpit had done on the way to its final resting place with me inside it to the local doctor who looked at my leg injuries, she suggested that I may have been concussed. She recommended that I “rest my brain” for a few days.

That was on Thursday afternoon. I took her advice for the rest of that day.

I tried working on the listings again the next day and was fatigued with a headache before 10 AM. Crap. I spent the rest of the day taking it easy.

In fact, I didn’t pick up the search until the following Monday.

Analyzing My Options

By the time I resumed my search, I was feeling a sense of urgency — even though I still had two months to get a helicopter for cherry season. I got back to the listings and started really thinking about what my options were. Fortunately, my brain was ready for the task and the headaches did not return.

Here’s what I came up with:

  • Buy a new one. Well, the prices of R44s have really gone up since I bought mine in 2005 for $346K loaded. A similar ship would cost $550K or more and I’d have to wait months for it. This option was really no option in my situation.
  • Buy a newish one. I figured that if I bought one that was 2012 or later model with low enough hours I could get 6 or more years out of it before having to overhaul it. But I simply couldn’t find any in this category.
  • Buy a recently overhauled one. This is the option I’d been working with: replace my recently overhauled ship with one just like it. The prices ranged from around $390K to $450K. It was doable if I was willing to walk into a big, fat loan. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to.
  • Buy a partially overhauled one. This is where it gets weird and where you really need to know what you’re buying. Robinson helicopters have a required 12-year or 2200 hour (whichever comes first) overhaul to maintain airworthiness. This cost me about $220K at the end of 2016; my ship was almost 12 years old and had about 2050 hours on it. But there’s a loophole for folks who want to save money. If the ship is 12 years old and has a lot less than 2200 hours on it, you can replace the calendar-limited parts in a partial overhaul and leave the hours-limited parts for later replacement. I cannot believe how many ships I found that fell into this category.
  • Buy one that would need overhaul within the next 4 years. There were a handful of ships like this out there and they were cheap. So cheap that I wouldn’t need a loan at all. The benefit of that is that the $30K I paid annually on a loan could go into a savings account for the overhaul.

The partial overhauls looked promising — at first. One of the ones I found was a particularly sharp looking, fully loaded 2006 ship that was selling for only $300K. Is it possible that I could get it and fly it commercially? The short answer is no. I did my research and discovered that the Lycoming engine also has a 12-year overhaul requirement. It would cost about $50K and take at least 2 months to have the engine pulled and overhauled. Although I wouldn’t mind spending the money, I didn’t have the time.

Also in this category were ships with various life-limited parts that are normally replaced in overhaul that had been replaced for various reasons during the life of the ship, leaving it very unclear what still needed to be done and when. My head spun just thinking about these ships.

And then there was the guy who argued with me that the bladder tanks really weren’t required and offered to let me talk to his mechanic for an explanation of why they were actually bad. Needless to say, he didn’t get any traction with a person whose life may have been saved by those tanks.

I found two ships that had been overhauled once and had about 400 hours left until the next overhaul. They were selling for $200K and $220K respectively — I wouldn’t need a loan for either one. One was an instrument training ship, the other wasn’t. One had a hook — another thing I didn’t want or need. I was leaning toward the one in Tennessee and started looking for a good mechanic to go out there with me for a pre-purchase inspection. I was looking at the cost of two round-trip plane tickets to Knoxville, an overnight stay, and an inspection fee: at least $6K total and two full days of my life. And that’s before buying it.

I wasn’t a happy camper.

Enter N7534D

All this time, I’d been texting on and off with Paul, the Director of Maintenance at Quantum.

Quantum did Zero-Mike-Lima’s overhaul in late 2016. I chose them because I think Paul is the best Robinson mechanic on the planet and the price they quoted was fair. I have a lot of respect and admiration for Paul and I know he’d never steer me wrong.

He mentioned offhand that Quantum had a 2005 R44 Raven II for sale. I eventually asked him for details. It sounded just like what I needed; it had (or would have) everything required for Part 135 operations without things I wouldn’t need (like an instrument training panel or hook). I asked for pictures. I swear my heart must have skipped a beat when I saw the interior: it was almost identical to Zero-Mike-Lima.

N630ML
Okay, so it’s a terrible picture. But it’s the only one I have from the day I picked up N630ML at the Robinson factory in Torrance, CA in January 2005.

And here’s where I need to take a step back and be honest with myself and my readers. Understand that after ordering a helicopter to my specifications, flying it brand new from the factory, putting more than 2100 hours of time on it, using it to earn a living, having so many adventures with it, and seeing it through overhaul after 12 years of ownership, I really loved Zero-Mike-Lima. Yes, I had developed a possibly unhealthy bond with a machine. The biggest problem I was having with choosing its replacement was the possibility of ending up with one that was so different it wouldn’t feel like mine.

So when I saw the inside of N7534D, I felt as if I was looking at Zero-Mike-Lima. It would be an easy transition for me.

Of course, the outside was a different story. It was “Ford Deep Impact Blue” — an unfortunate color name given the circumstances of my need to purchase. (It also reminded me of the BMW motorcycle my wasband had crashed in Arizona years before.) But when I fly a helicopter, I don’t see the outside.

The ship had one problem: it had only 216 hours until it needed an overhaul. I’d need to stretch that through two flying seasons to save up for a good downpayment on an overhaul I’d likely need to start in November 2019.

But it also had a lot going for it. It was the first R44 with air conditioning, which was kind of cool (no pun intended) but also meant I could dry cherries without taking off a door for ventilation. It had been owned and operated by Quantum for its entire life. That meant it was always hangared and well maintained by a crew managed by my favorite mechanic. It had been used for training, but apparently not much. It had been on a Part 135 certificate so it had (or would have) all the instruments needed to get it on my certificate. It already had ADS-B Out installed, which would save me at least $3K before the deadline for installation at the end of 2019. And knowing that I needed a radio altimeter by October, Paul offered to pick up the cost of labor on the installation of one, saving me about another $5K.

So for about the same price as the other two ships I was looking at, I could get one that would satisfy the FAA without getting a loan or dealing with a pre-purchase inspection. There would be no worries or doubts or concerns about what I’d bought. It would be a pretty much stress-free purchase. I could just fly down to Arizona with a check and fly home with it.

And that’s pretty much what I did. I didn’t even go down to look at it before committing to purchase it. I just texted and talked with Paul to make sure it had everything I needed/expected. I sent my friend Woody to take a look at it; he reported back that the black stripe made it look “bitchin.” I sent a check for the radio altimeter hardware purchase. I waited for my insurance check and sent it to the bank to pay off the loan, then got the net directly deposited to my savings account. I got a small bridge loan from Bank of Laura Langer, then got a certified check for the purchase price, stuck it in my wallet, and flew First Class down to Phoenix on Alaska Air. That was on Wednesday.

N7534D
Here I am with Penny, sitting in the pilot seat of N7534D in Hawthorne, NV, on our way home this past Saturday. (Photo by my friend Janet, who came along for that long ride.)

On Thursday, I saw it for the first time, got the warm and fuzzy feeling I was expecting, handed over the check, signed a bunch of papers, and immediately started installing the mounts I’d need for my iPhone and iPad and stowing various other equipment on board. Penny got to sit in the front seat while I worked.

On Friday, I was on my way home. But that’s another story.

Planning the Long Flight Home

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I begin flight planning for the trip from Phoenix, AZ to Malaga, WA with my new helicopter.

I haven’t been blogging much about flying lately, but that’s because I haven’t been doing any lately. It took me about a month to find a good replacement for my old helicopter and, truth be told, I haven’t even gone to see it in person so I don’t have any good stories or photos to share. I’m thinking of discussing the purchase in a separate blog post and if life doesn’t stop hurling distractions at me, I might just get that done. But it’ll be a complete piece — from the start of the search to the pickup of the replacement helicopter — and since that process isn’t complete yet, I can’t very well write about it.

So instead I’ll give you an idea of what’s going through my mind this weekend and week as I plan to fly the replacement helicopter home from the Phoenix area.

Planning a Flight in the American West

The one thing that city folks — and people from areas areas that are normally or densely populated — don’t get is that out west there can be very long distances between points. And since there aren’t as many people here outside the big cities, there can be a whole lot of nothing on a long cross-country flight. Or even on a relatively short one. Heck, when I was first building time in my R22, I once flew solo in a straight line 85 miles east to west just north of the Grand Canyon’s airspace and didn’t cross over a single paved road for the entire distance. Can you do that in New York?

I used to fly between Arizona and Central Washington twice a year. From 2008 to 2013, I lived in Wickenburg, Arizona and spent 7 to 16 weeks every summer in the Wenatchee area of Washington for cherry drying. In May, I’d pack up the helicopter and fly north and in July or August, I’d pack it up again and fly south. I often had a pilot interested in building time in an R44 at the stick to help cover flying costs; once (I think) it was my future wasband, who got the flight time for free on a flight that included a good part of the Oregon coast.

There are basically four good routes — five if you count the California/Oregon coastal route — to get from the Phoenix area of Arizona to Central Washington State. Those routes are determined primarily by terrain, fuel availability, and airspace restrictions.

The Shortest Route

By far, the shortest route is through the middle of Nevada. Going north from Wickenburg (E25), it’s Mesquite, NV (67L), Elko, NV (EKO), Burns, OR (BNO), to Wenatchee, WA (EAT). Note that those legs are pretty long — 2-1/2 or more hours each. But it’s only 891 miles total and I’ve done the whole flight in a single day twice with another pilot on board.

The Shortest Route
Here’s Foreflight with the shortest route plotted in. I added a waypoint to route me around the Grand Canyon’s airspace, which I can’t fly through. There’s a whole lot of nothing on this route.

Pros:

  • Short route; it can be done in less than 10 hours without headwinds.
  • The shortest route is also the cheapest route.
  • Only three fuel stops also speeds up the trip; stopping for fuel takes at least 30 minutes.
  • Between Elko and Burns, there are many herds of wild horses.

Cons:

  • Not many options for fuel if headwinds slow you down. Rerouting along the way could make the trip a lot longer.
  • Flight crosses miles of empty desert with absolutely no sign of civilization. For example, there’s a stretch between Elko and Burns where there are no roads, buildings, or even fence lines for more than 90 minutes of flight time. So if you need to land because of a problem, you’re pretty much screwed.

The Salt Lake City Route

Salt Lake
My GoPro nosecam captured this amazing image of Salt Lake on my last flight southbound through the area in October 2016.

When I flew the late, great Zero-Mike-Lima south to get its overhaul back in 2016, I took what I call the Salt Lake City route. This route follows roads pretty much all the way. Zero-Mike-Lima’s engine was nearly 12 years old and an oil change had uncovered more than the normal amount of metal fragments in the filter. If the engine was going to give me trouble, I wanted to be able to land somewhere close to where I could get help and that meant near a road. An example of this route goes from Wickenburg (E25) to Page, AZ (PGA), Salt Lake City (Skypark), UT (BTF), Burley, ID (BUR), Pendleton, OR (PDT), and Wenatchee (EAT). This comes out to a minimum of 985 miles.

The Salt Lake City Route
This is what I call the Salt Lake City Route, IFR edition. I’ve added waypoints beyond the fuel stops listed here, to guide me around the Grand Canyon’s airspace and keep me over roads for most of the way.

Pros:

  • I can be an IFR (I Follow Roads) pilot. There are very few stretches along this route that can be considered remote.
  • There are corner-cutting opportunities to save time and fuel. For example, if I don’t mind flying over Salt Lake, I can go direct from Salt Lake City to Burley. (I really don’t like flying over water so I’ve only done that once.)
  • There are many potential fuel stops along the way. And many options for short detours to get to them.
  • The first 2 hours of this flight takes me over my old stomping grounds in northeastern Arizona, including the Navajo Reservation and Lake Powell.
  • My friend Megg lives in Salt Lake City and has, more than once, provided overnight accommodations.

Cons:

  • It’s not the shortest route. I don’t think it can be done safely by one pilot in a day.
  • It crosses over a lot of high elevation terrain. In April, that means there’s a real possibility of snow or icing conditions that I can’t fly in. Getting grounded because of weather wastes time and gets expensive.

The Western Nevada Route

Another way to go that successfully avoids the restricted airspace in Nevada is up the east side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains and up into Oregon. In looking at this route, I realized that I’d never done the whole thing. Once I traced the Tonopah (southeast of Hawthorne) to Wickenburg part of this route with my wasband on board when we had to abandon the coastal route, stopped for the night at a friend’s house in Georgetown, CA, and came over Echo Pass near Lake Tahoe. We might have cut through Death Valley along the way. The route I’m looking at now is at least 942 miles: Wickenburg (E25), Jean, NV (0L7), Hawthorne, NV (HTH), Lakeview, OR (LKV), Yakima, WA (YKM), and Wenatchee (EAT).

Western Nevada Route
The western Nevada route is one I’ve never done before, but it looks like it might work out.

Pros:

  • Relatively short route.
  • Not completely familiar so I’d get to see new sights.
  • A stop at Hawthorne would mean getting to see Betty, the unofficial airport greeter there.

Cons:

  • Not completely familiar so I’d have to be even more prepared for the unexpected than usual.
  • Fuel stops are limited so monitoring fuel consumption and planning well in advance is vital, especially with headwinds.
  • There’s some remote terrain. Help might not be close in the event of a problem.
  • There’s some high elevation terrain. Winter weather could be an issue in April.
  • With restricted airspace and high mountains on either side of the Nevada portion of the route, there aren’t many opportunities to divert for fuel or overnight accommodations.

    • The Central California Route

    The longest two routes take me through California. The shorter version goes up the Central Valley of California. I basically head west through the Arizona and California deserts, then pop over the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains at Tehachapi and fly up the Central Valley. Then I continue North through Oregon on the East side of the Cascade Mountains. A flight plan might be Wickenburg (E25), Apple Valley, CA (APV), Porterville, CA (PTV), Woodland, CA (O41), Redding, CA (RDD), The Dalles, WA (DLS), and Wenatchee (EAT). That’s a minimum of 1100 miles.

    Central California Route
    The Central California route is long but very familiar. The stops shown here are just an example; there are plenty of options for fuel and overnight stay in the Central Valley.

    Pros:

    • I know this route really well. I can’t tell you (without looking in my log book) how many times I’ve flown either the entire thing or parts of it.
    • There are lots of places in California’s Central Valley for fuel and overnight stops.
    • More than half the route is through heavily populated areas. Plenty of places to get help if needed.
    • There is very little high terrain so winter weather is not likely to be an issue.
    • Weather is nearly always perfect — although it could be windy — in the desert areas.
    • I can stop along the way to pick up the cockpit cover for my old helicopter, which is somewhere in the Sacramento area of California.

    Cons:

    • The route is long. Enough said.
    • There’s a chance that you won’t be able to cross into the Central Valley at Tehachapi because of low clouds on the Central Valley side. The wind seems to funnel the weather south and when the clouds hit the mountains there, they just stop and accumulate. I’ve had this happen to me twice. The options are to wait it out or detour farther west to Grapevine.
    • Just under half the route is through sparsely populated areas.
    • There are limited fuel stops in the desert areas and in Oregon.
    • Did I mention that the route was long?

    The Coastal Route

    Bonneville Dam
    When I fly back from the coast, I usually fly along the Columbia River. Here’s a nosecam shot of the Bonneville Dam. I can’t get my hands on any of my coast photos right now.

    If you’ve never flown in a small aircraft, low and slow up the coast of California and Oregon, you have no idea what you’re missing. When the weather is good, the flight is absolutely amazing. I’m talking about tiny seaside communities, waterfalls plunging off cliffs into the Pacific Ocean, and odd rock formations just off the coast with waves crashing picturesquely against them. If time and money is no object, this is the way to go. A typical route might be Wickenburg (E25), Apple Valley, CA (APV), San Luis Obispo (SBP), Half Moon Bay, CA (HAF), Eureka, CA (EKA), North Bend, OR (OTH), Tillamook, OR (TMK), The Dalles, WA (DLS), and Wenatchee (EAT). Those aren’t all fuel stops; they’re just points along the way where fuel is available. This flight is over 1300 miles long if you follow the coast as closely as possible. It’s a lot longer if you join the coast at a point south of San Luis Obispo — for example, Santa Barbara (SBA) or Long Beach (LGB).

    The Coastal Route
    Got money to spend and time to kill and you don’t mind gambling with Mother Nature? Then do the coastal route. The extra waypoints I plotted in here are just to keep you on the coast as much as possible. You’d have to calculate and pick your fuel stops.

    Pros:

    • The scenery! There’s none better.
    • Lots of fuel stops — if you plan properly.
    • Did I mention the amazing scenery?

    Cons:

    • Weather. The chances of being able to stay on the coast for the entire distance from San Luis Obispo to Tillamook are about as close to zero as you can get without hitting zero. The marine layer is real and it will definitely force you inland for at least part of this route. That means you need to have an infinite number of Plan Bs. And there’s nothing worse than flying out of your way to get to the coast and then having to backtrack because it’s socked in with fog.
    • Possibly flying over water. I hate flying over water.
    • Some of the coastal areas are quite remote. So even if you’re flying over land, if you have a problem and need to land you might not be anywhere near help.
    • You can’t stick to the coast in certain wildlife refuge areas unless you want to climb to 2000 feet. I get nosebleeds up there.
    • The airspace gets a little crazy around San Francisco, especially if you have to come inland.
    • And seriously: 1300 miles for a trip you can do in less than 1000 miles on at least two other routes? A bit extravagant, no?

    Picking a Route

    Those are pretty much the options I’m looking at. I was leaning toward the Central California route until I started looking at the Western Nevada route in more detail. It definitely has possibilities and I shouldn’t write it off just because I haven’t done it before. If it saves me 2 hours of flight time, that’s hundreds of dollars in ferry flight costs. While I don’t think I can do it in a day, it’s definitely feasible.

    In the end, there are just two things that will help me make the decision: the weather forecast and whether I can stop in California to fetch that cockpit cover. And although my flight is scheduled to begin on Friday, April 13 — yeah, I know — it’s still to early to get a reliable forecast. I’ll likely decide by Wednesday or Thursday — and be prepared to change my mind.

    That’s how flight planning goes.

    A Few More Thoughts about my Stupid Pilot Trick

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    A response to some of the comments I’ve been getting, along with an update.

    First of all, I want to thank the over 70 (so far) people who have taken the time to comment on my “Another Stupid Pilot Trick” post. It took me about a week to write it, mostly because I was embarrassed about what I’d allowed to happen to me, and I was feeling more than a little sensitive about that. I almost didn’t leave comments open on the post. But I’m so very glad I did. The outpouring of understanding and good wishes has been amazing. I didn’t get a single nasty or hurtful comment — which is pretty amazing given the percentage of low-life scum we all see bottom feeding on the Internet. You folks rock.

    What’s really weird to me is how many people came to read the post. Apparently, it was picked up on Facebook or somewhere else and went a little viral. For two days in a row, it got more than 10,000 hits. So a lot of the comments I got were from complete strangers, including a lot of pilots.

    The blog isn’t the only place I got feedback. I also got some on Twitter and a little on Facebook. I got a few email messages and even one phone call. Everyone was amazingly kind and made me feel good about my friends, acquaintances, and the pilot community.

    Thank you.

    Why “Stupid Pilot Trick”?

    First, an explanation.

    A friend of mine took some offense at the title of the blog post. She said:

    I have to say I don’t like the title of your blog. It made me feel like you were hot dogging or pushing the helicopter to it’s limits.

    Understandable. A lot of pilots use the phrase “stupid pilot tricks” to refer to that kind of behavior.

    But as I explained:

    “Stupid pilot trick” is the phrase I’ve always used to refer to accidents caused by pilot error. I’ve used it in discussing other accidents so I thought it appropriate to use it when discussing mine.

    She seemed satisfied with that. I hope other readers are, too.

    My Recovery

    I’ve had some more time to recover both physically and mentally.

    Windsock
    One of my home projects was to replace my old, faded windsock with a bigger, brighter one. I even installed solar spotlights to illuminate it at night.

    The bruises are almost gone — the one on my right leg, which my doctor says might take several months to disappear, is pretty much the only one left. (I’d include a photo of the way blood under my skin is now pooling on the right side of my right foot, but do we really need to see that? I don’t think so.) I had low-grade, nagging headaches for a while but they’re all gone now. I’d say I’m pretty much back to 100%, and that’s good. It’s springtime and I’ve got a ton of work to do in my garden and a long list of projects around the house to tackle.

    Mentally, things are a bit weird. I think I’m suffering a bit from survivor guilt. You see, about three weeks before my mishap, a friend of mine was in a helicopter crash in eastern Washington state. He’d been doing some animal capture work with two biologists on board his Hughes 369 helicopter. One passenger died and my friend and the other passenger were seriously injured. No one knows what happened because no one can remember. My friend was in a coma for two weeks with a 10% chance of survival. He’s a young guy, though, and he came out of it. They did reconstructive surgery on his arms and legs. His wife recently sent me a photo of him in physical therapy. He’s got a long road ahead of him.

    I didn’t want them to know about my crash mostly because I felt bad that I’d survived with very little injury and he’d very nearly died and will be working on his recovery for months (or more?) to come. But his wife found out — probably through the hoopla over the blog post. They’re okay with it — I mean, why wouldn’t they be? — and I know now that my survivor guilt is idiotic. I’m coming to terms with that slowly.

    The gaps in my memory of the event are also bothersome. I still don’t remember anything from the time the helicopter went through the trees — which was very loud and seemed to take forever — to the time I was on the ground and realized I could get out. Somewhere in there, the helicopter hit the ground at least twice and turned 180 degrees but I don’t remember it at all. And no, I didn’t pass out; I had no head injury other than getting my brain rattled around a bit. I also don’t remember using the fire extinguisher, although I apparently did. And what did I do during the 30 minutes between when I texted another pilot right after getting out of the helicopter and finally calling 911? I remember parts of two telephone conversations I had during that time, but not 30 minutes worth of anything. I’ve never experienced memory gaps like that before and it continues to bug me that that time is missing.

    I should stress that my memory beyond that is fine. My brain is back to functioning at 100% of whatever it was functioning at before the crash.

    Counseling? No Thanks.

    About two weeks after the crash, I got a letter in the mail from an organization that offers support to pilots after crashes. My response was to get angry. Very angry. So angry that I wrote an email to the guy who sent it, berating him for assuming that I needed help.

    Fortunately, I didn’t send it. I grew to realize, with the help of some of my Twitter friends, that some pilots do need help getting past a crash and that the organization would probably be very helpful to them.

    A lot of the comments I got from people about the crash assumed that I was seriously traumatized by it. But am I?

    I don’t feel that I am and I think I know why.

    You see, if you were to make a list of the traumatic things in my life and rank them by how traumatizing they were, this crash would actually appear pretty far down the list. I don’t want to share the list — jeez, why would I want to revisit all the things that have traumatized me throughout my life? — but I will offer one example: the man I lived with for 29 years, who I loved and trusted with my life, cheated on me (with a woman old enough to be my mother!), lied to me (and a judge, under oath), and then tried (and failed) to ruin me financially through a long, drawn-out divorce battle. You don’t think that’s pretty traumatizing? A helicopter crash I walked away from with just scrapes and bruises is nothing compared to that.

    (So yes, my crazy divorce prepared me for a helicopter crash. Thanks, honey!)

    It’s all relative.

    If you remember nothing else from this post, remember this: When you live life, shit happens. The more you live, the more shit happens. I’d rather deal with the shit that’s a byproduct of life than to have no life at all.

    ‘Nuff said.

    Getting Back in the Saddle

    I don’t need counseling. What I need is to fulfill my desire to get back into the cockpit and go flying.

    No, I’m not afraid to fly now — although I admit I have no interest at all in flying at night. (Other than the “Moonlight Dinner Tours” I did in Phoenix between 2005 and 2011, I never really enjoyed flying at night.) Knowing what caused the crash — distracted flying at night — and what I can do to prevent it from happening again — pay attention, idiot! — takes away any fear I might have of flying again. After all, I really am a decent pilot — a “good stick,” I’ve been told. I flew my R44 like most people drive their car — or maybe even better. (Actually, probably better considering the way some people drive.) I’ve learned my lesson and am eager to get back in the cockpit.

    Of course, that means getting another helicopter. I’m working on it. The week after the crash, I put in an offer on a helicopter in Canada, but the guy’s price, which I thought was high, was firm and he wasn’t interested in helping me get it into the U.S. And then there’s all kinds of paperwork to deal with when bringing an aircraft down and I’m simply not interested in dealing with any of that. So I’ve scratched all Canadian helicopters off my list.

    I’ve also rethought my strategy on buying a new helicopter. Rather than getting one in the same condition as the one I lost — jeez, it was just a year out of overhaul! — I figured I’d buy one that needs an overhaul in two to five years and get the overhaul done when the time came. That meant I could buy a helicopter for cash using the insurance proceeds and save up for the overhaul. Without a helicopter loan, saving up would be possible. After all, I did it in 2013-16 after paying for a divorce, buying land, and building a home. (I do make a decent living as a pilot and still earn royalties on some of my writing work.) Then, in overhaul, I could get it fixed up to be more like the one I lost.

    With that in mind, there are three candidates I’m considering. The closest is in Phoenix and I’ll likely check it out within the next week or so. I’m hoping we can go for a test flight.

    I will admit one thing here: not long after the accident, when I first started thinking about buying another helicopter, there was a fleeting moment when I considered taking the insurance money, putting it in the bank, and not buying a helicopter at all. I’m a little young for retirement — although I consider myself semi-retired since I only work half the year — but financially, I’m secure enough to call it quits now if I want to. And I could still manage my cherry drying contracts every summer for a little side income. It would be an easy way out of the inconvenient mess I put myself into. But there’s no challenge in easy and I’ve come to believe that I live for challenges.

    And I’m not ready to give up yet.

    On Bravery

    A lot of the people who commented about my blog post or contacted me other ways told me I was brave to tell my story. I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around that.

    You see, I don’t consider telling my story about what happened “brave.” It happened because I was dumb and let it happen. It’s embarrassing, but not something I could (or should) hide.

    Last Photo of N630ML
    This is the last photo of N630ML in one piece. I was one of a team of three frost control pilots. This was shot in the hangar we were based in at Yolo County Airport.

    Like it or not, I have a bit of a public persona. Part of it dates back to my writing days when I did a lot of public appearances. Part of it is because of this blog and my general outspokenness. There was no way in hell that I could crash a helicopter and prevent people from finding out. After all, one day, I’m flying a beautiful red helicopter with my initials in the N-number and a few months later I’m flying something completely different. And it isn’t as if pilots don’t read the NTSB reports. I do.

    And why should I hide it? I did something dumb. If I could admit it and other people hear about it and that prevents them from doing the same dumb thing, I might save lives. Why wouldn’t I do that?

    It’s not bravery that has me writing about this. It’s common sense. It’s caring about the pilot community and the passengers that pilots carry. It’s wanting to use my experience as a teaching moment for others.

    And let’s face it: I’m in my mid 50s, approaching the end of my flying career. I’m self-employed and am not going to lose my job by admitting I did a dumbass thing that could have killed me and totaled my helicopter. I’m not worried about future employment because I’ve already come to terms with this fact: very few employers would consider hiring a middle aged, outspoken and set-in-her-ways woman with only 3700 hours of helicopter flight time for any flying job that would really interest me.

    So what’s so brave? I’ve got nothing to lose by speaking out.

    Dealing with the FAA and NTSB

    Some pilots reading this might want to know what it’s like to deal with the FAA and NTSB after an accident. Let me fill you in.

    First, I have to stress how lucky we all are. First, I survived with very little injury and a decent memory of what happened. I’m not in denial about what happened and why it happened. I’m not interested in hiding the facts. No one other than me was involved in the crash. There was no property damage — other than the trees I “trimmed” on my way to the “landing zone.” (Humor does help.) The crash was never even reported in the local news. The only photos that exist are the ones taken by police — I assume; I haven’t seen any — me, and my friend Sean who was there for the recovery. All this makes it a lot easier for everyone concerned.

    The NTSB was the first to get in touch. Their local guy called while I was still in the hospital. (I was in the hospital for less than 3 hours.) I think he got my number from the police. I gave him a verbal account of what I remembered over the phone. He was very kind and polite. And relieved, it seemed. By simply surviving and telling him exactly what happened I was making his job very easy. In fact, the NTSB didn’t even come out to the accident site. They got a lot of information from the police, I guess. They released the helicopter for recovery within 3 hours of the crash. It was removed by noon the same day.

    The FAA’s Sacramento office got in touch three days later. I was at Heli Expo in Las Vegas by then. I spoke for about 15 minutes on the phone with an inspector, telling him pretty much the same thing I’d told the NTSB. He asked if I’d be interested in doing a presentation at a WINGS safety seminar in my area. Sure, I told him. I want other people to know how easy it is to let complacency kill you. He recommended that I get back in the cockpit and start flying as soon as possible, perhaps with a CFI. (Another one worried about my state of mind.) He asked me to send him a summary of the crash in writing via email and I took down his email address. The next day, I sent him the same stuff I’d sent my insurance company.

    About a week after the crash, an NTSB investigator from Washington called. I gave him the same information. He said he’d send a report I needed to fill out and warned me that I’d have 10 days to complete it and send it back. It got lost in email and was resent and the 10-day clock started when I confirmed receipt. Then I forgot about it. I remembered it six days later and spent about an hour filling it out. It was pretty straightforward, asking for basic information about the aircraft and my logged flight time, as well as a narrative about the crash. There were full pages I was able to skip because there were no other aircraft involved and no other crew members or passengers.

    Along the way I had to tell my Part 135 POI that the helicopter no longer existed. He asked me to write an email officially asking to remove it from my Part 135 certificate. That was a 10-minute job.

    And that’s it, so far. Although the FAA might ask me to do a special check ride with them, no one has asked yet. I don’t think there’s any doubt that I know how to fly safely. I was very forthcoming with the dumb thing I’d done that caused the accident. I do my Part 135 check flight in June anyway and I bet it would take them that long to schedule a special flight.

    So my dealings with the FAA and NTSB have been pretty worry-free and very professional. I’m happy with the way they all actually seemed to care about me and my wellbeing. There were no accusations or unfair finger-pointing. After all, how could there be? I blamed myself because it’s my fault.

    Why Deny the Truth?

    And that’s another weird thing that I’ve realized: too many pilots won’t take blame for accidents that are their fault.

    I know a good example. A few years back a pilot was flying a Schweizer 300 on a cherry contract. He had full fuel and another pilot on board so they were pretty close to max gross weight. He came in over a cherry orchard at high speed and made an aggressive turn that involved coming to a stop and descending. The helicopter went right into the trees. He claimed that the engine lost power but the NTSB, which took the wreckage in for investigation, could find nothing wrong with the engine. Instead, they reported that the accident had been caused by the maneuver he’d used to come in over the orchard: descending at a near stop had likely caused him to settle into his own downwash. Settling with power.

    While it’s true that the pilot may really believe that the engine lost power, it’s more likely that he’s in denial of what really happened and his part in the cause of the accident. After all, when you get into settling with power, pulling pitch just makes it worse. It might seem as if there’s an engine problem. But we’re trained to avoid, recognize, and recover from settling with power and he was a flight instructor so he should understand what happened.

    I’ve met this pilot and years after the accident he was still defiant, claiming the NTSB had gotten it wrong. As if the NTSB, which exists to investigate transportation related crashes, doesn’t know what it’s doing.

    Now suppose I was in denial about my part in this accident. Suppose I claimed that the helicopter had lost power in flight and I’d found myself flying into trees. All of a sudden, the case isn’t cut-and-dry. The NTSB would have to take possession of the wreckage and perform all kinds of tests on the engine to see if it had lost power and why that might have happened — all on the taxpayer’s dime. (And yes, I’m a taxpayer and I care about how the government spends our money. Don’t get me started on $30K dining room sets, please.) Robinson would get involved. Reports would be delayed, I’d be questioned over and over. All this would still be going on now — and likely for months.

    At what benefit?

    Isn’t it better when a pilot honestly reports what happened and takes blame when he/she is to blame?

    As far as I’m concerned, this chapter in my life is nearly closed; I’m already moving forward with the things I need to do to replace the helicopter and continue my work. That wouldn’t be possible if I didn’t recognize and admit what really happened and work with the authorities to help them quickly get the facts they need to complete their investigation.

    On my Well-written Account

    A few folks have commented about how “well-written” my blog post about the accident was. I appreciate the praise but, in all honesty, this one makes me giggle.

    While lots of people know me as a helicopter pilot, what they may not know is that I became a helicopter pilot and bought a helicopter by building up a 20+ year career as a writer. Yeah — I wrote for a living. A good living. I think that says something about my writing skills. Somebody who can’t write can’t earn enough money as a writer to pay for helicopter flight training and buy a helicopter.

    I wrote boring stuff. Books about how to use computers. Step-by-step instructions with lots of screenshots and captions and sometimes even callouts. I wrote it all and I often even did the layout. I wrote for numerous publishers, some of which you may have heard of: Peachpit Press, McGraw-Hill, Macmillan, Brady, Sybex, Microsoft Press, etc, etc. Some of the later books, which I’ve self-published, are about more interesting topics. If you’re interested in numbers, the count so far is 86 books.

    I also write for magazines, both print and online. I wrote for computer magazines in the old days (pre 2012) and now write for aviation magazines. The most recent issue of Vertical included an essay I wrote, right near the beginning.

    I started this blog in 2003 as an outlet to write stuff I found interesting — mostly stuff from my life, including my flying life. I use it to record and save information I want to share or consult later, like recipes. I use it to vent when something pisses me off or heap praise when something makes me happy.

    I’ve also been working on a book about my first ten years as a helicopter pilot. It’s about halfway done. If I get a little more motivated to work on it, I hope to have it finished by this summer. (And yes, I know I’ve been promising that for a while now.) Will it include this accident? No. I’ll save that for Book II, which will cover the next 10 years.

    So to those of you who think my accident account was well written, thanks. It better be.

    That’s All for Now

    And that’s pretty much everything on my mind in response to the comments I’ve gotten on my accident blog post, in email, and by phone. Once again, I want to thank all of the folks who took the time to reach out. You really made me feel good.

    It also brings the situation up to date as far as my plans for a new helicopter and dealing with the authorities. I’m sure some of you were curious. This should satisfy that curiosity.

    Any new comments or questions? Use the comments link for this post and I’ll try my best to address them — hopefully individually this time.

    Another Stupid Pilot Trick

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    An accident fueled by complacency with a very lucky pilot.

    It was still dark when the pilot lifted off from the small county airport at 5 AM on Saturday, February 24, destined for the 1,100-acre almond orchard she and the other two pilots on contract were responsible for protecting on a frost control contract. The horizon was barely visible as she climbed to 300 feet, per her altimeter.

    On the ground, she had already loaded the moving map image that outlined the orchard and she knew which section of it she was supposed to cover. But as she headed to the orchard about a mile away, the moving map wasn’t indicating her position, making it impossible for her to determine where she was in relation to it.

    She checked her altitude again, then reached forward to tap-tap-tap on the iPad’s screen — as she had hundreds of times since the iPad had become her FAA-approved electronic flight bag six or seven years before. The usual routine was tap-tap-tap and then look up to confirm all was okay before another tap-tap-tap. But this time, when she looked up that first time, she saw a row of tall trees right in front of her.

    “Oh, shit,” she thought. “This is it.”

    She’s not sure whether she pulled back on the cyclic in a vain attempt to avoid the trees, but she knew it wouldn’t matter anyway. Collision was impossible to avoid. Oddly, it happened so quickly that she didn’t even have time to be afraid.

    She may have closed her eyes as she went through the trees because she doesn’t remember seeing anything. But she heard the racket as the helicopter’s 16-foot blades, moving at roughly 400 RPM, impacted branches as they pushed through the trees. The tail rotor, skids, and horizontal stabilizers were ripped off but the helicopter’s fuselage kept moving. The pilot didn’t feel the impacts as the helicopter struck the ground once or twice in an open field on its way to its final resting place about 100 yards away from the trees, facing the direction from which it had come.

    On realizing that she was on the ground and still alive, the pilot fumbled for her seatbelt and got it open. She climbed out of the wreckage.

    Text Message

    The next few minutes are hazy to her. She saw the fire back behind the engine. She was worried that the other pilots, who had departed after her, might see it and think she was hurt so she texted one of them. That was at 5:04 AM.

    Then she found the fire extinguisher. While she has no memory of using it — in fact, she thought later that it was broken — she may have pulled the pin and used it to try to extinguish the flames. (According to the police, someone did and she was the only one there.)

    She may have still had it in her hand when the phone started ringing at 5:17 AM. It was the pilot she had texted. She told him what happened, assured him that she was okay, and told him to keep flying.

    The engine fire got a little bigger. She decided it would be a good idea to move away.

    Still not thinking clearly, she called her insurance agent, who is also a friend of hers. It was 5:23 AM and she was on the phone with him for 9 minutes, although she doesn’t remember talking that long. She does remember feeling the pain in her right leg around that time and looking down to see the huge swollen bruise forming. She started wondering if maybe she had broken her leg and decided to sit down. He asked if she’d called 911 and she said she hadn’t. The thought hadn’t occurred to her.

    She hung up and called 911. That was at 5:34 AM. She told the woman who answered that she had been in a helicopter crash and that she was okay but might have a broken leg. She said there was a fire but it didn’t look bad. The 911 dispatcher asked for her position and she was able to use Google Maps on her phone to provide cross streets. The dispatcher said she’d send the police and fire truck and EMS helicopter. The pilot, now sitting on the ground as the sky was brightening, begged her not to send a helicopter. She didn’t need it and she wasn’t going to pay for it. She must have said that a dozen times.

    The 911 operator kept the pilot talking on the phone until emergency services arrived. “Let me know when they’re right next to you,” she said.

    That happened 22 minutes after making the call. There was an ambulance and maybe a fire truck and a police car. Two medics came up to her. A while later, they were helping her into the back of a pickup truck’s crew cab for the short ride across the field to the ambulance. At her request, someone fetched her iPad from the wreckage, along with her purse. She didn’t realize it, but the fire was already out.

    In the ambulance, the medics wanted to start an IV. She told them not to. She said she wasn’t hurt that badly.

    In the hospital emergency room, they wanted to cut off her pants. She wouldn’t let them. Instead, she got undressed, wondering how she’d gotten grass stains all over her pants, and slipped into the hospital gown they provided.

    They started an IV. They dressed a cut on one leg. The bruise there was huge and swelling bad.

    They sent her to pee in a cup to make sure there wasn’t any blood in her urine. She was surprised they didn’t want to do a drug test.

    The adrenaline that had been running through her veins started to wear off and she found herself shaking. They put a warm blanket around her.

    People called on her phone. The other pilot she’d been flying with. Her insurance agent friend. The NTSB. Another pilot who didn’t know about the crash but was looking for a landing light to replace one that had gone out on his helicopter that morning. She talked to them all before 7:30 AM, grateful that the emergency room staff had let her keep her phone.

    They took her to get her leg X-rayed. They did her spine, too, even though she didn’t feel any pain there. Around then, she noticed her right hand scraped up and swelling. In the days to come, she’d notice other bruises and scrapes in other places.

    A doctor came to tell her that there were no broken bones. He pressed down on various places to see if there was pain in her abdomen. There wasn’t. Just her leg, really. He offered her a pain killer. She told him that most prescription painkillers didn’t work for her so she’d still with ibuprofen. A nurse came with a 600 mg dose.

    The doctor offered her an overnight stay for observation. She declined. She checked out of the hospital at 8:29, just three and a half hours after the accident.

    Cockpit
    When I climbed out of the cockpit, I didn’t realize it was lying on its side. I’m still not sure if I came through the door or the windscreen.

    The pilot she’d been working with, took her to see the wreckage. By that time, it was fully daylight out. She was surprised the helicopter was lying on its side; she thought it had been upright. She was also surprised by how beat up it was.

    And that’s when she started to realize that she might be the luckiest person on the planet that morning.

    Wondering why I know so much about this crash? By this point, it should be pretty obvious.

    I was the pilot.

    Yes, I crashed Zero-Mike-Lima last Saturday morning at around 5 AM. I crashed it because I was stupid and allowed myself to be distracted while flying at night. The fact that I’m alive to tell people about it amazes me every single day. In fact, when I was in the hospital I developed a notion, fed by a life of reading science fiction, that I had actually died and the “afterlife” was just a continuation of real life.

    But I’m here and I’m embarrassed.

    Wreckage
    Can you say “totaled”?

    Throughout this blog, you’ll find posts where I analyze various helicopter crashes. The vast majority of crashes are due to pilot error and my crash is no different. I’ve got about 3700 hours in helicopters, including more than 2200 hours in the one I crashed — hell, I owned it for 13 years! — and I still made a stupid mistake that destroyed the helicopter and could have taken my life.

    I’m really not in the mood to analyze what happened now. Hell, it took me a week to write this. It’s actually pretty straightforward: I allowed myself to get distracted while flying at night relatively close to the ground. Duh. You can’t perform a much stupider pilot trick than that.

    Various people at Robinson Helicopter saw the photos — I was at Heli Expo this past week — and pretty much agree that the bladder tanks, which I whined about back in 2012, probably saved my life. So there’s that crow to eat, too.

    There is some good news in all this — other than the fact that I’m alive, no one else was hurt, and there was no property damage (other than those trees): the helicopter was fully insured and I’m already shopping for its replacement. In fact, I put an offer on a nearly identical helicopter just yesterday. So I’ll be back in business soon enough.

    And you can bet your ass that I won’t be on a frost control contract next year or ever again.

    —

    I debated leaving comments open for this post. I’m not sure if I want to address them given how I feel about what happened. But I’ll give it a try.

    If you want to tell me how stupid and/or lucky I am, fine, but do it gently. I already know. Read the Comments Policy if you’re not sure whether what you have to say will be approved. If the comments section turns into a “let’s beat up on Maria” party, I’ll shut it down.

    Postcards: Heli Expo Fly In

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    I’m at Heli Expo in Las Vegas this week. I arrived on Saturday evening after a week on a frost control contract in the Sacramento area. My RV and truck (and boat) were waiting for me, stored at the Sam’s Town KOA (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it) and I moved right back in.

    A friend of mine who works for HAI was responsible for guiding in the helicopters that would be on display at the show. They fly in over the course of three days on a tightly controlled schedule and flight path. They land in the back parking lot of the convention center, shut down, and get wheeled into the building. It’s a time-consuming process where safety is high priority. My friend invited me in to watch the show on Sunday, when the last six helicopters were due in. I jumped at the chance.

    I used the opportunity to broadcast some of the landings with Periscope. One of these was featured on the Periscope home page and soon had thousands of live viewers. You can find it here. I’ll be the first to admit that it isn’t riveting videography, mostly because of the delay between landings. But enough folks seemed to like it.

    When my phone’s battery got low, I cut the broadcast and switched to still photos. Here are two of them.

    Helicopter landing at Heli Expo 2018 in Las Vegas.

    Helicopter landing at Heli Expo in Las Vegas.

    I’ll be posting additional photos of helicopters on the show floor here and on Twitter. And if all goes well, I’ll broadcast the first departing flights on Thursday afternoon — with a full battery and backup. Follow me on Periscope and turn notifications on to tune in. I’m mlanger there.