RedBubble Cards

Very impressive.

Let me start off by saying that I’m probably one of the pickiest people on the planet. I’m not easy to satisfy and even more difficult to actually please. I have a reputation as a whiner and a complainer.

But I like to think of myself as a perfectionist. I want things to be perfect — or as close to it as possible. (That’s my story and I’ll stick to it.)

RedBubbleThat said, I just received my first batch of cards from RedBubble. I placed the order about two weeks ago and they arrived in yesterday’s mail from Australia.

And they are beautiful.

Grand Canyon with CloudsThe artwork I chose — photos taken by me and several other RedBubble photographers — was perfectly reproduced on high-quality heavy stock paper. The matte coating applied gave each photo a nice protective finish. The back of each card included a thumbnail view of the image, along with the photographer’s name and the URL of his/her RedBubble portfolio.

These are, by far, the best quality photo greeting cards I have every seen. I am pleased beyond measure. I am, in fact, tickled pink.

Best of all, some of the cards have my own photos on them, so I can show off my work to the people I write to. (Hey, why the hell not?)

If you haven’t checked out RedBubble, you should. Not only is it a great resource for printing your own artwork as cards and wall art and t-shirts, but it’s a great place to shop for high quality art by extremely talented artists.

Could it Be? Monsoon Season?

Heat’s not enough. I want humidity and rain, too.

This morning, when I woke at 5:30 AM to the whistles of my parrot, I was surprised to see that Mike hadn’t opened the French door between our bedroom and the upstairs patio. He always opens it during the night this time of year. That’s the only time it’s cool.

But when I opened it, I realized why: it wasn’t cool. For the first time this season, the outside temperature remained in the 80s overnight. And that’s the first sign of what everyone in Arizona is waiting for this time of year: monsoon season.

A Monsoon? In the Desert?

Sure. I can’t make this stuff up.

Monsoon season in Arizona is marked by a number of meteorological events:

  • Dew point reaches at least 55°F for at least three days in a row. That’s the official indicator of the start of monsoon season in Phoenix. That means it gets humid outside. The “dry heat” isn’t so dry anymore.
  • The winds shift to bring moist air off the Sea of Cortez and Gulf of Mexico in a counterclockwise flow. This is why the storms, when they come to Wickenburg, come from the north or east during monsoon season.
  • My WebCamStorms build just about every afternoon. I can see them coming from my office window. (You can check out the WebCam image here; it’s usually available during daylight hours.) They’re isolated, severe thunderstorms, packed with high wind, lightning, and the occasional microburst.
  • It rains. That’s if we’re lucky. The clouds have lots of moisture, but if the ground is too dry, the rain dries up before it hits the ground, resulting in virga and, often, dust storms. But once monsoon season is underway, we get rain — although never enough of it to quench the thirst of our golf courses and swimming pools.
  • We get flash floods. That’s if we get enough rain all at once. A dry wash runs through our property and, with enough rain, it can turn into a raging river. For about an hour. Then it’s just a wet riverbed that, within 24 hours, turns dry again.

Want more info, you can get it here, here, and here.

And this is what most Arizonans are waiting for.

My Monsoons

I’ve experienced Arizona monsoons in three different places over the years.

Wickenburg
I’ve lived in Wickenburg for ten years now, and although I’ve been wanting to escape, like the snowbirds, in the summertime, I haven’t usually been able to. That means I’ve lived through a good bunch of monsoon seasons.

My office has always faced the mountains to the north (even when it was in a condo I own downtown). I’d be sitting at my desk, working away, occasionally glancing up out the window. I’d see the storm clouds building over the Bradshaw and Weaver Mountains, making their way southwest toward Wickenburg. The sky would get dark out there — while it remained sunny at my house — and lightning would flash. If the storm reached us before sunset, we were in for it. But in too many instances, the storm was just too slow and got to us after the sun set. Then it was a 50-50 chance that we’d get some storm activity — including welcome rain — before the storm dissipated.

Sometimes, the storms moved in more quickly — probably more moisture in the air. In those cases, we’d get a storm in the afternoon. What a treat! I’d stand under the overhang by my front door or on the patio at the condo and listen to the rain fall. Sometimes, if it looked rainy enough to get the washes flowing, I’d jump in my Jeep and head out into the desert, looking for a stream where streams don’t normally appear. I don’t drive through these — mind you — that’s dangerous. I just watch all that flowing water, remembering what it was like to live in a place where flowing water is a lot more common than dry streambeds.

On very rare occasions, a storm would move in just before dawn. I can’t remember this happening more than a few times, though. One time, it was the morning I was supposed to report back for work at the Grand Canyon, where I was flying helicopter tours. I had planned to take my helicopter up — the 1-1/2 hour flight sure beat the 3-1/2 hour drive. But with a thunderstorm sitting on top of Wickenburg, flying up was not a safe option. So I had to drive. I left two hours earlier than I would have and still got to work an hour late.

If you want to read more about the monsoon in Wickenburg, I recommend Lee Pearson’s excellent article for wickenburg-az.com, “The Monsoon Is Near“. It includes links to video footage he’s made available online.

Grand Canyon
In the summer of 2004, I worked as tour pilot at the Grand Canyon. I flew Long Ranger helicopters over the canyon 10 to 14 times a day on a 7 on/7 off schedule from April through the end of September.

My introduction to monsoon season came on my return from a flight in July. The storms had built up and were moving in toward the airport. I was about 5 miles out when a bolt of lightning came out of the sky less than 1/4 mile from where I was flying and struck the top of a Ponderosa pine tree. The treetop exploded into flames. I got on the radio, on our company frequency, and said, “It’s lightning out here. It just hit a tree about a quarter mile away from me.” The Chief Pilot’s voice came on and said, “Better get used to it.”

When you learn to fly, they teach you the danger of flying near thunderstorms. They advise you to stay at least 20 miles away. 20 miles! So you can imagine my surprise when I realized that the tour company had no qualms about continuing flight in the vicinity of thunderstorms.

And they were right — it didn’t seem to be dangerous at all. The storms were all localized — you could see them coming and usually fly around them if they were in your way. The rule we used was that if you could see through the rain, you could fly through it. Although it occasionally got a little bumpy, there were no serious updrafts or downdrafts. And although we were told that if things ever got too rough during a flight, we could land until the storm passed, I never had to. (Thus passing up my only opportunity to legally land a helicopter inside the Grand Canyon.)

The Grand Canyon with CloudsI do recall one other monsoon-related incident, though. The company I worked for had about ten helicopters on duty to do flights. Because of this, the company was very popular with tour companies, which would bus large groups of foreign tourists to the airport for helicopter flights. These flights were booked years in advance, so the company always knew when they’d need all helicopters to fly for a single group. One of these groups arrived late in the day during August. Nine other pilots and I were sitting out on our helipads, engines running, blades spinning, when the bus pulled up. Moments later, the loaders were bringing groups of five and six Japanese tourists to the helipads and loading us up.

It had been stormy most of the afternoon, with isolated thunderstorms drifting across the canyon. Farther out to the east, a controlled burn was sending low clouds of smoke our way. At the airport, however, the visibility was fine. We were scheduled to do a tour on the west side of the canyon, in the Dragon Corridor. One by one, we took off and headed west, making a long line of ten helicopters, all going the same way.

I was about six back from the front and could see we had a problem about five miles short of the rim. The north end of the Dragon Corridor was completely socked in with low clouds and falling rain. We couldn’t see across the canyon.

The lead helicopter announced on the company frequency that he was going to switch to an east canyon tour. He made a 180° turn. One by one, we all announced the same intentions and followed him. Now we were all heading back to the airport. We got permission from the tower to transition to the east, crossed about 1/2 mile south of the airport, and continued on.

Now we were in the smokey area. It wasn’t bad. Not yet, anyway. We crossed over the canyon and my passengers let out the usual oohs and ahs. And we proceeded to do the east canyon tour, which was reserved for weather situations because it normally ran about 35 minutes (and our passengers paid for a 25 minute tour). Of course, with the initial false start, their tours would be 45 minutes long.

The thing about flying at the Grand Canyon is that you have to stay on established routes. The only time I’d ever done that route was in training four months before, so I really wasn’t too clear on where I was supposed to go. Fortunately, there was a helicopter about 1/2 mile in front of me to follow. Unfortunately, the weather was closing in. It started to rain and visibility got tough. I focused on the other helicopter’s strobe light and followed it back across the canyon to the rim. Then I lost it in the smoke.

I pointed the helicopter in the direction I thought the airport might be and flew as if I knew where I was going. About a mile out, I saw the tower and other landmarks. I was only about a half mile off course. I landed safely, my passengers got out, and I shut down for the day.

I used to ask the Chief Pilot why we flew scenic tours in weather like that. His response: “If they’re willing to pay for it and it’s safe, why not?”

Howard Mesa
Howard Mesa is a mesa north of Williams and south of the Grand Canyon. It stands 300 feet above the Colorado Plateau. Our vacation property, with its camping shed, is at the very top of the mesa, with 360° views stretching out for 50 to 100 miles, depending on sky and dust conditions.

In the summer of 2005, I spent about a month at Howard Mesa, preparing our camping shed for its future duties. I lived in our old horse trailer with living quarters, a cramped space that was fine for one person, a dog, and a parrot. Mike came up on weekends to help out and escape Wickenburg’s heat.

Monsoon season atop Howard Mesa is a real treat. The clouds start building at around 11 AM and, because you can see in every direction, you can monitor their progress as they move across the desert. By 1 or 2 PM (at the latest), you can see rain (or virga) falling somewhere. This is where you can really get an idea of the individual storms because you can see them all, individually. I took this shot one afternoon around sunset. The view is out to the northwest. The mountain you see in silhouette is Mount Trumbull on the Arizona strip, 80+ miles away.

Monsoon Rain

The great thing about the monsoon up north is that when the rain comes, the temperature drops at least 20°F. I remember one day doing some work around our place in the morning. The temperature was in the 90s, which is pretty hot for up there. I was wearing a pair of gym shorts and a tank top. I hopped in the truck and drove down to Williams to do some laundry and shopping. While I was there, a storm moved in. In minutes, the temperature dropped down to the 50s. Needless to say, I nearly froze my butt off.

Of course, there’s also hail up there. Some friends of mine were on top Bill Williams Mountain south of Williams one summer day when a storm moved in. The golf ball-sized hail that fell did some serious damage to their car. And the fear of hail like that is what keeps me from leaving my helicopter at Howard Mesa, unprotected in the summertime. Rotor blades cost $48K a pair.

This Year’s Monsoon

Anyway, it looks like this weekend might be the start of the 2007 Monsoon Season here in Arizona. I’m hoping for lots and lots of rain — we really need it. And I’ll try to share some photos throughout the season. Sadly, I think all my old monsoon season photos were lost in my big hard disk crash earlier this year.

Denali

A National Park with a difference.

The second part of our Alaska vacation was a trip to Denali National Park, some 240 miles north of Anchorage. Denali is known primarily as home of Mount McKinley, the tallest mountain in North America, which measures 20,320 feet tall. McKinley (named Denali by the native people) is usually hiding in the clouds, so it’s not often seen by tourists. The park, however, offers many opportunities for seeing wildlife, including grizzly bears, Dall sheep, and caribou.

We took the train from Anchorage to Denali. Although the Alaska Railroad runs perfectly good train cars daily, we upgraded to the McKinley Explorer deluxe dome cars. Each passenger is given an assigned seat on the second floor of the train car, with excellent views in all directions. At mealtime, passengers come down in groups to eat on the first floor of the train car, which is set up as a dining car with waiter service.

Alaska RailroadMike and I soon realized that the best place on the train — weather permitting — was the open area between the train cars. There was generally enough space for two people on each side (right and left) of each car at each end. This place was perfect for shooting photos of the train as it wound around the track or for some of the scenic views we passed.

View from the TrainMike and I had very high expectations about the train ride, primarily because everyone kept telling us how great it was. As a result, we were disappointed. Don’t get me wrong — it’s a really great trip and one you should not pass up if given the opportunity. But it is about seven hours long (each way). Although there are plenty of incredible views, there are also a lot of boring stretches when there’s nothing but trees on both sides of the train. A one-way trip is enough. I wished we’d either flown or driven a rental car one way and taken the train the other way. Fourteen hours on a train (in the span of 3 days) was a bit much for me.

Mt. McKinleyWe did luck out as far as seeing Mount McKinley goes. At one point in the track, the train guide pointed it out in the distance. I managed to snap a few photos. The mountain wasn’t completely visible — there were plenty of white clouds masking various parts of it — but its summit rose up through it all. Magnificent.

On arrival and after settling in at our hotel, we made our way to the Wilderness Access Center for information about the park. That’s when we realized that Denali was very different from all the other National Parks we’d visited over the years. Access was heavily restricted — if you came by car, you could only drive in about 15 miles. To go farther, you’d need a special permit or to be a passenger on a tour bus. That pretty much forced us to do the tour bus thing, despite the fact that we normally like to strike out on our own.

Dall SheepWe signed up (and paid up) for a shuttle to Fish Creek. My understanding of the shuttle was that you could ride it as far as Fish Creek, but get off at any point, hike around for a while, and board another shuttle going in either direction. The reality was that the “shuttle” was a basic tour bus with a driver who stopped for wildlife spottings and took well over 4 hours to go 60 miles. The round trip was supposed to take 8 hours. For us, that’s a lot of time to be stuck on a tour bus.

Grizzly BearWe took the 7:30 AM shuttle all the way to Fish Creek, where the driver turned the bus around. Along the way, we spotted some Dall sheep, a grizzly bear, and three caribou (all at one place), along with some other sheep, bears, and caribou. The highlight was spotting a mama grizzly with two cubs. I got some excellent photos of them.

SquirrelWe got off at a McKinley viewpoint on the way back. Mike and I spent about 30 minutes just sitting on the ground, looking toward McKinley. Clouds completely obscured its top. We waited for them to clear, but they never did. I did get a few shots of a squirrel that was obviously far more friendly that it should have been. This is common in National Parks. People feed the wildlife and the wildlife becomes almost tame. The only problems with this is (1) tourists aren’t around all the time, so animals used to being fed don’t eat much off-season and (2) people food (like Cheetos and ham sandwiches) aren’t very good for them. The National Park Service at the Grand Canyon actually has to kill mule deer who scavenge in garbage pails during the winter, eat plastic bags, and get very sick.

Denali ViewWe hiked along the road for about a mile, then flagged down a bus and rode to the next stop. We passed by the mama bear and babies again. We rode along to a rest stop, then got off and hiked a while more. The problem with Denali is that there aren’t any many hiking trails. If you want to hike, you either have to bushwack through the tundra and run the risk of running into a bear or walk along the road, where you can flag down a bus. The road is not paved, so every time a vehicle goes past, the dust gets kicked up. It isn’t terribly pleasant. But the views are great and it’s wonderful to stumble upon some sheep high on a hill or some caribou drinking in a glacial runoff stream without a bus driver having to point it out to you.

CaribouWe learned too late that there’s lodging deep inside the park. If we go back, that’s where we’ll stay. Then we can do short hikes from our room or longer hikes with outfitters based there. That’s probably the best option for us, since we really prefer to avoid the tour bus crowd.

A nice park. My only regret (other than accommodations) is that we didn’t have more time to spend there.

We Need Alaska Tour Advice

What can you recommend?

After talking about it for several years, my husband and I have finally booked a vacation in Alaska. We’re going for two weeks in the beginning of June.

Our Trip

Our 2-week trip will have three parts:

  • Five days on land, starting and ending in Anchorage. We’ll be spending two nights in Anchorage with some friends before taking the train to Denali. We have two nights there in the park before returning to Anchorage.
  • One week on Radiance of the Seas, a Royal Caribbean cruise ship (ironically, the only one we’ve ever been on) with a southbound cruise to Vancouver, BC. The itinerary includes Seward (our starting port), Hubbard Glacier (cruising), Juneau, Skagway, Icy Strait Point, Ketchikan, Inside Passage (cruising), and Vancouver (our ending port).
  • Three days in Seattle, visiting with Mike’s cousin.

What Should We Do Each Day?

I’d like to hear from experienced Alaska travelers (or residents) about the kinds of day trips, activities, and/or tours they recommend — or think we should steer clear of.

Mike and I are relatively active people who prefer activities that require us to get out and move around. We don’t want to sit on a motorcoach (i.e., a bus) for more than 30 minutes and will do it only if there’s no other way to get where we need to go. We don’t like events that are orchestrated, like lumberjack shows and indian village dance revues. We prefer activities that don’t attract a lot of families with small kids or less active participants. While we understand the importance of scheduling, we don’t like tours that rush us around from one place to another or tours that expect you to sit around waiting for an activity to begin.

I want to enjoy one or two or three activities each day and get back to the hotel or boat feeling exhausted and as if I’ve seen more than I can comprehend.

We are on a budget, so we can’t afford to drop $500 per person each day on entertainment. (I’ve seen some of the pricing for package tours and it’s scary.) Although we don’t mind dropping a bunch of money on a really special trip, we can’t do it more than once or maybe twice. And it would have to be very special.

I prefer working with small tour operators rather than the big ones that the cruise ship companies use. They usually offer more personalized service and, because they don’t have to cut in the cruise lines, they’re more affordable. (In Sedona, for example, I always put my passengers on a Jeep with Earth Wisdom instead of Pink Jeep Tours because I don’t like my passengers to feel “processed.” Ditto for Maverick instead of Papillon at the Grand Canyon.) That’s not to say that I won’t work with a bigger tour operator, but I certainly don’t want to be “one of hundreds” on a tour.

Some of the things we’re interested in include:

  • Salmon fishing (if we can bring our catch home)
  • Air tours (helicopter and/or seaplane) if they include ground activities.
  • Whale watching (although I think we’ll get enough of that from the ship).
  • Hiking or biking if not too strenuous. (I’m active but still out of shape.)
  • Nature observation and photography.

If You Have Suggestions, Please Help!

Although I can wade through a pile of tourist literature both in brochures and on the Web, I was hoping for activities that the average tourist doesn’t participate in. That means I need suggestions.

What have you done on an Alaska vacation? What do you think we might like? Don’t keep it a secret! Use the Comment link or form to share it with us. I need your help!

Flying "Into" the Grand Canyon

A dialog about the idiosyncrasies of flying helicopters in certain parts of Arizona.

I just spent the last 30 minutes or so cleaning up my e-mail in box. I have the nasty habit of not filing or discarding messages as quickly as they come in, so there were over 300 messages to wade through. I’d read all of them and flagged some. I wound up deleting about 1/3 of them, filing another 1/3 of them, and leaving the rest for another day.

Among the e-mail messages I found was a dialog between me and another pilot, Robert Mark of JetWhine. He’d e-mailed me to ask a question and although I normally don’t answer questions sent to me by e-mail — I prefer using the Comments feature on this site so the exchange of information can involve and possibly benefit others — I did answer his. Although I’d like to get the exchange out of my e-mail in box, I want to share it with readers, since I think it has some interesting information.

So here’s the exchange. I’ve mixed Robert’s questions with my answers to make the exchange easier to follow.

Robert:

As a helicopter pilot out west, I wondered if you might be familiar with this Grand Canyon topic.

Do you know if it is correct that tour copters operated through the tribal reservation run to different standards than those that are based elsewhere?

The Chicago Tribune ran a story about the Canyon Sunday and claimed the tribal-operated copters can dip well below the edge of the cayone on a tour where others can not.

It sounded pretty odd to me.

Me:

Helicopters operating on tribal lands with appropriate permits can actually LAND at the bottom of the canyon. This, of course, is on tribal land belonging to the Hualapai and Havasupai tribes in the western part of the canyon — not in the main National Park area.

Please send me a link to that article if it is online. I’d like to read it.

Robert:

Just happen to have that link to the Tribune handy.

So then as a tribal copter, do their pilots train to different standards if they only fly there?

Me:

No, they’re not owned by the tribes. They’re owned/operated by other companies, like Papillon and Maverick, both of which operate in Vegas and at the Grand Canyon.

I worked for Papillon at the Grand Canyon. Training for GCW (Grand Canyon West) consists of spending a day or so with another pilot, learning the route and getting the feel for the density altitude situation. It’s hotter than hell down there in midsummer. Anyone can do it, but they don’t normally train women because of limited housing out there. That’s one reason why I never learned.

Don’t think it’s a big deal. It’s not. Each flight is about 6 minutes long and you’re doing ups and downs all day. The canyon isn’t as deep there as elsewhere in the park. And it isn’t as if you’re cruising up and down the canyon all day. You’re not. Just ups and downs on a preset route. Tedious stuff. Flying the South Rim is far more rewarding.

Thanks for the article link. I’ve flown out there in my old R22. The article describes the place pretty well. It’s unfortunate that many Vegas tourists think GCW is “The Grand Canyon.” It’s just a tiny part of it — and not even the good part.

Robert:

Sorry, but I’m kind of dumb on Native American issues.

Me:

Don’t feel bad. A lot of people are.

The reservations are self-governing bodies within the U.S. In a way, they’re like they’re own countries. They make their own rules, but do have to answer to the U.S. government for some things.

Robert:

So these are regular helicopter tour operators that ALL get a special exemption to do whatever this writer was talking about then? And that comes from FAA or is FAA essentially not involved because it is tribal land?

Me:

Yes, the helicopter operators get permits from the tribes. When I say operators, I mean the companies, not the pilots. They pay a fee to the tribes that’s based on operations (takeoffs/landings), facilities (like landing zones next to the river), and other stuff. Theoretically, my company could apply for (and get and pay for) a permit to do the same thing Papillon is doing. But since GCW is a 2-hour flight from where I’m based, I haven’t tried.

Closing Note:

Since the opening of the Skywalk at Grand Canyon West, I’ve gotten a number of calls from people interested in flying out there. It’s a two-hour flight from the Phoenix area and I’d have to charge about $2K round trip (for up to 3 people; not per person). But the alternative is a 5-1/2 hour (each way) drive. For folks with money to spend, I can turn a two-day excursion to the middle of nowhere into a pleasant day trip. Still, I don’t expect many takers. Not many people are willing to blow $2K+ on a single day of fun.