Category Archives: Flying

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

A Tale of Two Helicopter Operators

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And why neither got my business.

We were in Glacier National Park last weekend. It was our first visit. Glacier is an amazing place, full of granite mountains, lakes, rivers, and waterfalls. It’s the kind of place that’s perfect to explore by helicopter.

There are two helicopter operators in West Glacier, right outside the park. Here’s our experience with them.

Mom-and-Pop

The first one you come to as you’re driving in from the west is the “mom and pop” operation my friend, Jim, had recommended. Jim operates Big Country Helicopters in Coeur d’Alene, ID and had worked with this particular operator to give one of his clients a helicopter flight over the park. This operator has just one helicopter, a Bell Jet Ranger, which seats 4 passengers. It’s the perfect size helicopter for the location — two couples or a family of four can fly together but it’s likely to be cost-effective enough to take just two passengers. I assumed that like most smaller tour operators, this operator was more likely to offer a personalized tour experience.

Unfortunately, when we stopped in to the office for this operator at about 5:10 PM on a Saturday afternoon, the office was closed. There was no sign on the door with hours or a phone number. There were no brochures to take away. There was nothing. It was as if they weren’t interested in doing any business. Oddly, there were two vehicles and the helicopter parked at the property. But no one was around to help us or even tell us where we might be able to get help.

As they say in Twitterland: #FAIL.

The Big Operator

The other operator in West Glacier flies Bell Long Rangers — the same helicopter I flew at the Grand Canyon back in 2004. These helicopters seat six passengers, but two face backwards. I’ve sat in one of those backwards-facing seats and I can tell you that it sucks. This operator had three helicopters, one of which was parked right alongside the road on a little hill — kind of like a car dealer might show off a car or truck to passersby. There was some activity by one of the helicopters; some park employees in uniform and a pilot in a flight suit scurrying around like they were prepping for a flight. No tourists around, though.

A sign on the door said they were open from 8 AM to 8 PM. We went inside. A woman greeted us before we could get to the counter. The conversation went something like this:

Woman: “Can I help you?”

Me: “We’re interested in a helicopter flight.”

Woman: “Well, we’re done for today. Do you want to book something for tomorrow?”

Me: “Well, can you tell us about the flights? Where do they go?”

Woman: “There’s a half hour flight for $110 per person and a one-hour flight for $220 per person. There’s another couple going out on a 9 AM flight tomorrow. I can book you on that.”

Me: “We’re leaving tomorrow morning. We’ll think about it.”

I didn’t have much to think about. The woman had lost my business by making three mistakes:

  • If your sign says you’re open until 8 PM, don’t tell potential customers that you’re “done for the day” at 5:15 PM.
  • If your customer asks a question, answer it. Don’t answer questions that aren’t asked until after you’ve answered the one that was. I didn’t ask how long the flights were or what they cost. I asked where they went. I expected to see some kind of map of the park with a flight route.
  • Ask your customers what time is convenient for them. Don’t try to put them into a time slot that’s convenient for you.

Her attitude was so typical of the big helicopter operators. They can save it for the tourists who don’t know better. I worked for an operation like that and I won’t subject myself to their type of “service.”

No Helicopter Tour of Glacier National Park

So we didn’t get to see Glacier from the air. That doesn’t mean I won’t. I’ll be checking into the rules and regulations for flying over the park. Maybe next year, on our way to Washington, we’ll take a northern route.

Leaving Wenatchee

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Nine weeks was enough.

On Saturday, we left Wenatchee. I’d been in the area — Quincy and Wenatchee, WA — since June 8 and was really ready to go. But there were a few things that needed doing before we could go.

A Day in Seattle

First I had to meet up with my husband. He’ll be joining me for our return drive to the Phoenix area. He flew up from Phoenix to Seattle on Alaska Airlines with some luggage, his bicycle, and Alex the Dog. His flight was scheduled to arrive at 9:30 AM Thursday, so at 6 AM that morning, I was in the truck, driving west to meet him. We had a nice reunion at baggage claim carousel 14, where Jack was very surprised to see me waiting for him when they rolled in his new travel crate.

SR-71

SR-71 on display at the Museum of Flight in Seattle, WA.

Not to waste a day in Seattle, we had breakfast at 13 Coins near the airport and then headed over to Boeing Field for a visit to the Museum of Flight. We spent a few hours there, enjoying the exhibits. It’s a great aviation museum with something of interest to people of all ages.

Afterward, we went to Mike’s cousin’s house in the northern part of Seattle, not far from the University of Washington. Mike’s cousin Rick and his friend Lisa live in a tall, narrow house on a quiet residential street. We went for dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant, where were were joined by my friend, Tom, who I hadn’t seen in about 15 years. Tom, who lives in Vermont, was in the Seattle area on business and we managed to plan our day in Seattle for the same day Tom had some free time. It was great to see him.

Afterwards, we drove back to Wenatchee along scenic Route 2. Unfortunately, we left too late in the day to see anything; it was dark long before we reached the pass. It was also a bit foggy. I’d love to drive this route on a nice day. I flew it in June with my Twitter friend, @Jodene, and it was incredible.

Moving the Helicopter

The idea was to fly the helicopter back that way the next day. I’d booked tickets for Mike and me on Horizon from Seattle to Wenatchee on Friday’s 4 PM flight. The plan was to spend Friday morning moving the trailer from where it was parked in a Wenatchee Heights orchard back down to Wenatchee, where we’d get one of its tires replaced. Then we’d fly the helicopter to Boeing Field, where one of my mechanics is based. Then we’d catch that 4 PM flight back to Wenatchee, finish packing up, and be out of the area by Saturday morning.

The weather didn’t cooperate. It had been almost rain-free all summer, but it poured like hell on Friday in Wenatchee. The storm came from the north and moved slowly to the southeast. We managed to stay on schedule to fetch the trailer and get its tire changed, but when we were ready to take the helicopter to Seattle, a thick blanket of clouds clogged both mountain passes — Snoqualmie (I-90) and Stevens (Route 2). There would be no flight that day.

It was unfortunate because, as Seinfeld’s Kramer might say: in my mind, I was already gone.

The next day, I was awake at 6 AM. It was a beautiful, clear, sunny morning. If we could get our act together quickly, we could fly to Seattle and catch the 9:55 flight back to Wenatchee. Otherwise, we’d have to wait until 4 PM. After checking the weather as well as I could, I decided to go for it.

We were airborne by 7 AM. I climbed out with a direct-to Cle Elum on my GPS, requiring a 500-800 fpm climb rate for the first 5 minutes of the flight to clear the mountains. As we climbed, we could see the tops of clouds out in the mountains in the distance ahead of us. I was hoping that those cloud tops were for a shallow band of clouds and that there would be room beneath them for us to fly over the highway through Snoqualmie Pass.

We descended over Cle Elem and hooked up with I-90. Soon we were flying under the cloud bank with plenty of space between us and both the ground and the clouds. But as the terrain rose toward the pass, the clouds descended. We passed Easton and things began to get uncertain. Just short of the pass, we realized that the clouds came right down to the ground. There was no safe way through.

I turned around and headed back toward the edge of the cloud bank. There were plenty of tempting holes in the clouds where I could have passed through to fly above them. But I don’t like flying atop a bank of clouds. Eventually, you have to come back down, and if there’s no hole on the other end, you’re stuck up there. I did not want to put myself into that situation.

Mt. Rainier

Mike took this shot as we approached Mt. Rainier. You can see a little bit of the cloud cover around its base.

We reached the edge of the cloud bank and turned to the south. We climbed and were soon above the level of the clouds. Mt. Rainier was poking out of the top of the cloud bank, but there was plenty of clear, cloud-free space around its base. We headed that way. Beneath us, several deep valleys were full of cottony clouds, as if stuffed by some well-meaning giant. Ahead of us, Mt. Rainier rose tall and proud and snow-covered out of the rocky terrain. Grassy slopes of its foothhills glowed bright green with thick grass, speckled with tall pines and granite outcroppings. The views were incredible.

Unfortunately, I was too concerned with our flight path to enjoy the view. I needed to get under the clouds in a valley that sloped downward toward Seattle. I needed to do that without actually flying through any clouds. My first instinct was to find a road, since most roads lead to a pass. But some roads climb, descend, and climb again. Any of the climbs could take the road into the clouds. I soon realized that a mountain stream or river would be better.

We found just the one we needed on the northwest side of Rainier. I descended at 2,000 fpm at the edge of the cloud bank, ducking under it with plenty of room to spare over the riverbed. We followed it closely, winding back and forth, keeping an eye out for wires. Finally, the canyon opened up and we could see homes and towns in front of us. A while later, the skyline came into view on a typically gloomy Seattle day. We touched down at Boeing Field at about 8:45 AM. We’d logged 1.6 hours of Hobbs time on a flight that should have taken 45 minutes.

You can see our entire flight path on the chart here:

Our Flight Path

But the bigger miracle was that we caught a cab to SeaTac and were sitting on the Wenatchee-bound plane less than an hour later. By 10:30 AM, we were on the ground in Wenatchee.

By 3 PM, we were packed up and on the road, headed for Walla Walla. But that’s another part of the story.

Lazy Shopping…For a Helicopter?

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Some people are willing to pay strangers to help them make a huge purchase decision.

A while back, I read a blog post on Pilot Mike’s Weblog titled “Purchase vs. Rent Robinson R22?.” In it, Mike discussed his thoughts about buying an R22 to do his training in.

While I didn’t buy a helicopter to do my primary training, I did buy one for my commercial training. It would have saved me a lot of money if my flight school didn’t charge $75/hour for the CFI to train me. (Yes, they ripped me off. Yes, I know it now and suspected it then. There were extenuating circumstances. I no longer do business with that organization or recommend them to anyone else. I’m not the only one they’ve burned like this. ‘Nuff said.) As it was, I probably saved $25/hour on dual time and $100 hour on solo time. Of course, I used the money save to actually pay for the helicopter and its related expenses, so you can easily argue that I didn’t save anything at all. Still, I wound up with my own helicopter, which I could use as I liked 24/7/356. That’s got to be worth something.

I made a comment on the blog post back in late May 2009 with some of this information. In it, I mentioned my old R22, which is for sale again. I also subscribed to the comment so I could be notified if there were any follow-up comments. (This is a great thing to do if you’re interested in a topic and want to stay involved.) Yesterday, I got an e-mail message from the blog with the contents of the first follow-up comment:

My brother is buying a R22…
I would like to contact Maria

Since the comment included the e-mail address of the commenter, I replied directly to it. After all, there’s no reason why our personal conversation should appear on Mike’s blog. So I wrote:

I should probably start out by clarifying — I’m not selling my old R22. I don’t own it. The guy who bought it from me is selling it. It’s listed on Trade-a-Plane.

If there’s anything else you have question about, let me know. Just keep in mind that I haven’t owned or flown an R22 since 2004, so I might not be able to answer your questions.

He replied quickly in an e-mail I received on my BlackBerry while out for a bike ride. Apparently, he had more than just a question:

Thank you so much for replying.
I have 0 (zero) knowledge about it, and my brother is going to ask me to buy a new one probably next week. I would like to pay for a trusted help/advise OUTSIDE dealers or any other info from a seller.

There is so much wrong with his statement that I don’t even know where to start.

First of all, he must be a good brother to simply buy a helicopter when his brother asks him to. I know what my helicopters cost and I know what even the least expensive ones are going for on Trade-A-Plane. He’s not going to touch anything worth flying for less than $75K. A “new” one — if he really means new — will cost $200,000 or more.

Second, who the hell spends that kind of money without doing their homework? And no, hiring someone to do the homework for you isn’t the same as doing it yourself.

Third, he doesn’t even know me! I could be some Internet con artist, trying to pass myself off as a helicopter expert to lure people like him to an inventory controlled by me or an associate.

Fourth, what makes him think I want to be part of his purchase decision…and possibly be held liable if he buys a lemon? By taking money to give him advice, I’m setting myself up for liability if things don’t go right. I don’t want any part of that.

So I wrote back from my BlackBerry:

I’m sorry. I can’t help you.

This morning, from my computer, I added:

I also want to add that anyone who has zero knowledge about an aircraft should not be buying it. Do your homework, don’t pay someone you don’t even know to do it for you.

I haven’t heard back from him. And that’s got me wondering….maybe he was trying to scam me? Maybe the next step was to ask me for my bank information so he could wire me payment before I started consulting with him?

Or maybe he’s just an idiot who is too damn lazy to do his own research.

Airplanes and Helicopters Don’t Mix

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Accidents happen.

As the New York Times reports in  “Tourist Helicopter and Small Plane Collide Over Hudson River“:

A small private plane carrying three people and a New York tourist helicopter carrying six collided in midair and plunged into the Hudson River off the West Side of Manhattan just after noon on Saturday. At least two people were confirmed dead, the authorities said, and a search was on for the others.

One of the reasons helicopters tend to fly lower than airplanes is to do something that’s drummed into our heads: avoid the flow of fixed wing traffic. This accident is tragic on so many levels, but it would not have occurred if the plane was flying at the altitude it should have been at.

Indeed, this isn’t the first time an airplane and helicopter have collided. On June 18, 1986, a DeHaviland DHC-6 collided with a Bell 206B helicopter over the Grand Canyon, killing 25 people. Both aircraft were conducting tours over the canyon. As a result of this accident, tour routes were established with separate altitudes for airplanes (8,000 feet MSL) and helicopters (7,500 feet MSL) over the Grand Canyon.

There’s some talk that the airplane in the New York City accident today might have been in some distress and perhaps it was losing altitude. Hopefully, investigators will gather information about how it happened. I can understand how the helicopter pilot may not have seen the airplane at his altitude, especially if he had just taken off and was still at low level, just climbing out. A helicopter pilot doesn’t expect to see airplanes at low level. But that’s no excuse to see and avoid other traffic.

On Words: Helicopter or Chopper?

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I fly a helicopter, not a chopper.

When people find out I’m involved with helicopters, they often make comments about choppers. I often get the feeling they’re doing it to make themselves sound knowledgeable or cool. Like they’re in on the industry slang.

But when I hear the word chopper, I think of a ridiculously proportioned, terribly uncomfortable, likely loud motorcycle. Something from Easy Rider. I don’t think of anything that flies.

I don’t use the words helicopter and chopper interchangeably. I fly helicopters. I might see a chopper parked in front of a biker bar or tattoo parlor. I wouldn’t ride one, though. I have two motorcycles I occasionally ride.

I’ve been told that folks who live in San Francisco hate to hear their city referred to as Frisco. I don’t know if it’s true, but I suspect my feelings about the word chopper are similar.

Are you a helicopter pilot or someone who works with helicopters? If so, please do leave a comment letting us know which you prefer. I have to admit that I don’t know any helicopter pilots who call their rides choppers — unless they have two wheels and a kickstand. If you’re one who does, speak up!