Tag Archives: helicopters

A Helicopter Repair Story

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Including a happy ending.

On Tuesday, I flew out to Robson’s Mining World in Aguila, AZ. I was scheduled to appear there on Saturday for their anniversary celebration and I wanted to make sure my usual landing zone was in good shape.

It was a windy day and I was tossed around a bit on the 8-minute flight from Wickenburg (vs. a 30-minute drive). But the winds were calmer closer to the ground. I circled Robson’s once, then set down on what I thought was a spot closer to the road. Turned out, it was the same spot I’d occupied the year before. It just looked closer to the road from the air. The quartz rocks Mike and John had laid out in a line for me were still there. The idea was to land with the helicopter’s cockpit over the line. That would keep my tail rotor away from the bushes behind us. But since the bushes looked bigger than they had the year before, I positioned the helicopter a little bit closer to the road.

I cooled down the helicopter and shut down the engine. Then I went out to assess the landing zone on foot. I discovered that the quartz line was still quite workable for me. The bushes were farther back than I’d thought on landing. (I always estimate the helicopter’s tail longer than it really is.) So the landing zone was fine. No trimming would be required. That’s good because I don’t like the idea of cutting any desert vegetation unless absolutely necessary.

I put on my jacket — it was still quite cool at 9 AM — and walked through Robson’s front gates. The place looked deserted. I headed toward the restaurant, planning on having a piece of pie for breakfast. The door was locked but as I was starting to turn away, Rosa, who works in the restaurant, hurried out from the kitchen and opened the door. I settled down at a table and she talked me into having a real breakfast of bacon and eggs. She set me up with a small pot of hot tea and went back into the kitchen to prepare my food.

I had a few awkward moments when the teapot’s lid fell into my cup and became stuck there. If I’d been with someone, we would have been laughing hard. But I was alone and laughed at myself more quietly. I had to pour all the tea back into the pot and wait for the lid in the cup to cool and contract a tiny bit before I could get it out.

Rosa brought me a plate of fresh fruit — grapefruit, pineapple, grapes, and oranges — then disappeared back into the kitchen. I busied myself by reading the history of Robson’s and some information about the equipment and vehicles on display. When she brought out my breakfast a while later, I gobbled down the two eggs over medium, three slices of bacon, and two slices of wheat toast with real butter. (Don’t you hate when restaurants use mystery spread on toast?)

The person I was hoping to see there, Rebecca, wasn’t in yet. She lives in Wickenburg and drives out five days a week to manage the place. I saw her drive in just as I was starting the engine for the helicopter at about 9:45. Since the engine was already running and the blades were already turning, I didn’t shut down. I had another stop to make.
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Cows in the Landing Zone

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Yes, cows.

One of Flying M Air’s clients is a local business that has a remote ranch along the Hassayampa River. I occasionally take their VIPs out to the ranch, turning a 45-minute (each way) car ride on washboarded dirt roads into a 6-minute scenic helicopter flight.

The landing zone is near a few of the ranch buildings, on a patch of sparse grass near a road. My approach route takes me along the road past large pens holding horses, cows, and calves.

On all of my previous flights, the cows were in the pens. But today, they were out and about. As I approached my landing zone, I was rather surprised to see a 2-month-old calf standing on the road, obviously mooing its little brains out. The recipient of this mooing was on the other side of the landing zone: a cow that might have been its mother.

Of course, I noted all this as I was coming in for a landing with three passengers on board. I’ve landed there so many times that I don’t normally do any kind of reconnoissance anymore. I know the landing zone very well and, if things aren’t as expected, I know the quick escape route I can use if I need to abort.

I didn’t need to abort. I set down where I usually do while my passengers debated whether they could walk past the cow about 100 feet away. The cow had horns — as all the cows at that ranch do — and they thought it might be a bull. Many people who don’t check an animal’s privates think horns are the indication of animal gender. I saw udders and I knew it was a cow.

While I descended to the ground, my rotor wash blew up a bunch of dried cow patties and dust. It all flew into the air and I wondered about the possibility of one of those smaller cow patties flying up into the tail rotor when it was time to take off.

I throttled down to cool-down RPM (68% on an R44) and let my passengers disembark, reminding them again of the tail rotor. I always park facing where my passengers need to go, so there’s no reason for them to walk behind the helicopter. As I cooled the helicopter down, I watched a cowboy greet them. They walked away to take a tour of the ranch. Routine stuff.

What wasn’t routine was the cows. They were all over the place. Cows and calves in every direction. There had to be at least twenty of them.

I shut down, watching the cows and wondering whether they were tall enough to interfere with the tail rotor. Those horns were pretty high up. They were watching me. All of them. Just standing around, with their cow faces looking my way. It was very weird.

I stopped the blades with the rotor brake and got out to survey my position on the landing zone. There was certainly a lot more cow patties than the last time I’d landed there. I’d landed in a patch of short, dry grass, surrounded by dirt. There was a shallow ditch off the front end of the right skid. No big rocks near the skids. Just a bunch of dried cow patties in all sizes. So dry that I could kick them away from the tail rotor area without getting cow poop on my shoes. But not dry enough that I to touch them with my hands.

I looked at the cows and their calves. They were still watching me. The closest one was about 100 feet away. One of them was mooing insistently.

I took out my Hobbs book and caught up with some paperwork. I knew my passengers would be at least 30 minutes. I’d forgotten my iPod at home and figured I’d use the time to catch up with some of the log stuff the FAA required for my Part 135 certificate.

When I looked up, a few of the cows were closer.

This was not good. I put away the book and got out. I made a big show of cleaning the cockpit bubble. The cows watched.

I finished and decided it was time to chase the cows away. I’d told my passengers that I’d start the engine when I saw them coming, but I wasn’t prepared to start the engine when a cow might walk into the tail rotor. I had to get them away.

Unfortunately, persistent “shooing” sounds with waving hands didn’t do the job.

I started walking toward the closest cow. Other cows and calves nearby immediately moved away. One of them stopped periodically to moo at me. But soon most of them were a bit farther off.

Except one. She was an older cow with horns that had the tips sawn off. I got the idea that she was a troublemaker who used her horns one too many times to bully another cow or maybe a horse or cowboy. She seemed fascinated with either me or (more likely) the red helicopter I’d arrived in. When I walked toward her, she walked away. When I stopped, she stopped and looked at me.

It was getting chilly; the wind was picking up. I climbed back into the helicopter and closed the doors on my side.

That’s when the ranch guy showed up. He was driving a blue New Holland tractor with a front-end loader on it. The tractor was pulling a matching blue water tank. He drove noisily down the road and carefully backed the tank into a spot near a horse corral. Two dogs were walking alongside his rig; I realized that two more were riding on the tank trailer. He stopped and a guy rode up on an ATV. I turned my attention to the cows. I think they were getting closer again. The guy with the ATV rode off. The ranch guy disconnected the water trailer and pulled the tractor away. He parked a short distance from me and called to the dogs.

There were four dogs and they all looked to be mutts. Three of them had some border collie or Australian shepherd or heeler in them. The other one looked like it might have some hound in it. But when the ranch guy hollered whatever it is he hollered, the dogs took off toward the closest group of cows.

The next ten minutes was an incredible show. The dogs, listening to a few simple commands from the ranch guy, proceeded to round up groups of 3 to 6 cows and move them toward the horse corrals 50 yards away from my helicopter. The cows didn’t want to be moved. The older ones turned their horns toward the dogs and even kicked at them, but the dogs were always faster and managed to stay safe. They barked and the cows mooed and the calves ran around in a panic. But eventually the pack was moved to the fence near the horse corral. Then the dogs got a short rest before the ranch guy would set them on another group of cows. I watched in amazement until all the cows except one had been moved to the side of the horse corral.

The whole time, the ranch guy just sat in the blue tractor, watching the dogs. Every once in a while, he’d yell out a command that I couldn’t quite hear. When the dogs were finished, they came back to the tractor and just lay down in the dirt. They stayed there for about five minutes. Then the ranch guy issued another command I couldn’t quite catch and motioned to the one cow that was still nearby. The dogs took off after it.

The cow ran into the bushes. The dogs ran after it. “Bring ’em back!” the ranch guy yelled. I saw the cow run back and forth through the bushes. The dogs split up and worked it as a team. Soon, the cow was running back across the clearing. It ran past the front of the helicopter toward the other cows. Finally it was among them. The dogs relaxed.

The ranch guy started the tractor and headed off back up the road. The dogs followed him. He rounded a bend in the road and moved out of sight.

The cows stood in a group near the horse corral. A few of them mooed angrily. One or two scratched their front hooves in the dirt like a bull at a bullfight in the movies.

A few minutes later, three of the dogs returned. They stared at the cows for a few minutes, then lay down in the dirt 50 feet away, watching them.

The cows didn’t move, although the mooing ones never really shut up.

My passengers returned a while later. I didn’t have to worry much about the cows and the tail rotor. The dogs had them under control.

This is one of the few times I didn’t have a camera with me. If I did, I’d have used the movie feature to get video of the dogs in action.

My total flight time was 0.3 hours, but I’ll get paid for 0.5 because of my half-hour minimum. I was on the ground waiting for nearly 50 minutes.

But that’s okay. I had a really good show.

Flying for Bowl Games

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And keeping very busy.

My cell phone started ringing on Saturday and it didn’t stop. By Sunday afternoon, I was booked with a Grand Canyon day trip (from Phoenix Sky Harbor) on Monday, a one-hour Phoenix Tour from Scottsdale on Tuesday morning, and a 1-hour charter from Wickenburg on Wednesday. On Monday afternoon, while I was at the Grand Canyon with my passengers, the Phoenix tour turned into another Grand Canyon Charter. I turned down four Grand Canyon day trips and two Sedona day trips from the Phoenix area for Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday because I was already booked. I couldn’t keep up with the messages that came in while I was airborne on Monday and Tuesday and on Tuesday morning, while at the Grand Canyon, I had to shut my phone off because my battery was nearly dead.

Why all the sudden interest in helicopter day trips and charters?

The bowl game that was held in Glendale on Monday night. Don’t ask me which Bowl game it was — I don’t follow football. I only know who played (Florida Gators and Ohio State) and who won (Florida) because my Monday passengers were Gators fans and my Tuesday passengers were disappointed Ohio fans.

Like so many Phoenix area businesses, I feasted on the influx of big budget tourists, folks who think nothing of dropping $2K for a day’s entertainment. In the case of the Grand Canyon day trips, both parties wanted to get to and see the Grand Canyon but had limited time for the visit. They simply didn’t want to make the 4-hour (each way) car ride from Phoenix. So they hired me to take them by helicopter — 1-1/2 hour from Scottsdale (each way) and 1-3/4 hour from Sky Harbor

Yesterday’s group didn’t have much time to spend at the canyon. We left Sky Harbor at 9 AM and arrived at Grand Canyon Airport barely in time for them to hop on a Papillon helicopter for a canyon overflight. Afterwards, we had an hour before we had to leave the Grand Canyon to get them back to the Phoenix area in time for their pre-game parties. They spent about 3/4 of that in Papillon’s gift shop. We did have time for a quick burger at Susy’s restaurant at Prescott Airport. I think they enjoyed that meal at a typical airport restaurant almost as much as the rest of their day. Of course, they probably enjoyed the game a lot more, since their team won.

Today’s group is just a father and his 10-year-old son who are here from Ohio for the game. They spent Sunday at Sedona and decided to fly with me to Grand Canyon for the day. I set them up with a Papillon tour and they got bumped up and upgraded to fly with Grand Canyon Helicopters (Papillon’s sister company), which flies much nicer equipment (EC130s). Although they were supposed to be on the short tour, they were put on the long tour and they apparently loved every minute of it. (What’s not to like?) We took the Xantera “taxi” to the park and I set them loose in front of El Tovar so they could walk the rim and have lunch on their own.

Now, at 1:30 PM, I’m sitting in the upper lounge (hotel guests only!), trying to produce something for my blog. There’s no wireless Internet here — and that’s a good thing. After all, I ‘m less than 300 feet from the rim of the canyon and shouldn’t even be looking at a computer. I’m meeting my passengers right outside at 3 PM for the return flight. I’ll have them back in Scottsdale by 5 PM and I’ll be shutting down on the ramp in Wickenburg before 6.

Yesterday’s flight was the first time I flew to the Grand Canyon from downtown Phoenix. It isn’t a particularly interesting flight. Not if you do a straight line, anyway. So I take little side trips. The highlight was probably the red rocks tour of Sedona about an hour into the flight. I flew my passengers past the airport and over town, then headed up the canyon where the tour operators there take their passengers. Near the end of the canyon, I pulled up, climbing at about 1,000 feet per minute to get over the edge of the Mongollon Rim. My front seat passenger was nervous, but he did okay. Then more relatively uninteresting stuff to the canyon. On the way back, I took them west of Bill Williams Mountain with a stop in Prescott, then down the east side of the Bradshaws. I showed them the ruins on Indian Mesa on Lake Pleasant before heading into Phoenix.

Got jets?Cutter Aviation, my FBO of choice at Sky Harbor, was a complete mob scene when I got there at around 3PM. Jets and other large aircraft were coming in for the game — last-minute folks who hadn’t come days before to enjoy the weekend. My helicopter was an insignificant speck on the ramp among all the jets. They started leading me to parking in a “Follow Me” car, then just drove away, leaving me to set down wherever I wanted to. I found a spot in the corner of their ramp with the Swift FBO jets parked behind me. I was only planning on being there for a few minutes, so I didn’t think it mattered too much where I parked. I escorted my passengers into the terminal there, pocketed a generous tip, said goodbye, and placed my fuel order for 20 gallons. The next guy asked for 1,680 gallons. It took a long time to fuel me, probably because the idiot with the truck was trying to fit it all in one tank. Meanwhile, big planes kept coming in and the FBO person in charge was getting more and more nervous by the minute. There were at least 50 people — pilots, national guard guys, police, limo drivers — you name it — in the Cutter terminal. The place was crazed and I wanted out. It was a pleasure to get clearance from Sky Harbor tower to follow the “river bottom” and head northwest once I’d passed Central Avenue. I logged 4.3 hours yesterday, which is more than I budget for those flights. Not a loss, but certainly not the kind of hourly rate I like to earn. My fault. I charged them my north valley rate; I should have charged for south valley, which is $200 more. The tip helped.

Today, I flew my passengers from Scottsdale, which is a shorter flight. We went past Jerome instead of Sedona on our way up. I’ll overfly Sedona with a Red Rocks tour on the way back. Scottsdale was also full of jets this morning, but I expect most of them to be gone by the time we return. At least I hope so.

It’s been nice visiting the GC these past two days. I got a chance to chat with a few old friends from Papillon yesterday: Tiny, who is now a lead pilot (he started the same season I did in 2004); Mark D, who wasn’t particularly chatty; Chuck R, who seemed embarrassed to see me; Borden, who is also friends with our good friends Elizabeth and Matt; and Evelyn. I was hoping to talk to Brenda about HAI, but she didn’t seem to be in. Today, I ran into Tom (who once rescued Mike and I from Indians — long story) at GC Helicopters, where he’s a pilot.

I had lunch at El Tovar today. It feels good to sit down and relax. Things are pretty quiet here and, if I had more time, I would have attempted a nap. Last night I had trouble staying awake until 8 PM — I was so exhausted. I’ll probably sleep well again tonight.

But the good news is, Flying M Air could shut down for the rest of the month and still be in good financial shape.

As for my blog…it’s being neglected. But I’ll get back to it soon.

On Pipelines and Strip Mines

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Two interesting charters.

One of the best things about flying in a helicopter is that it offers perfect, unobstructed views of things on the ground. That makes it a perfect platform for an otherwise difficult task: pipeline survey.

Arizona (and other states, I assume) is crisscrossed with buried pipelines. Water, petroleum, natural gas. You can see these pipelines on the ground by the signs posted at regular intervals along their length. You can see them from the air by the “scars” their construction has left on the earth.

On Tuesday, I had the pleasure of doing my first pipeline survey job. My client and two companions hired me to pick them up in Tucson and fly them along their pipeline to a point just past Benson, AZ — perhaps 30 miles away by air. The pipeline followed I-10 for a while, then followed the course of a railroad track. The client is preparing to do some work on the line that’ll require digging and drilling. I didn’t ask for details — it’s none of my business — but they were primarily concerned with access for their equipment, especially in two or three riparian areas along the pipeline’s route.

The pipeline has obviously been in place for along while. I could tell by the condition of the earth’s surface above it. There was a scar, but in some places, it was difficult — if not downright impossible — to see. There was lots of vegetation growing over it in some places. In others, where it crossed deep washes, my passengers voiced some surprise that it had not been exposed. It had obviously been placed deep in the ground where the earth protected it.

The flight consisted of flying along the length of the pipeline, then circling (to the left) around each place where it was crossed by a major wash or river. There were quite a few of these places. My client had placed a GPS with its tracking feature enabled on the floor in the front of the helicopter so it could trace our route on a map. He’s likely to have a curved line with lots of loops on it. The loops are good — they’ll clearly indicate where we investigated potential problem areas for the project. One of the areas was so troublesome that we spent nearly 20 minutes circling it. I still have a clear picture of the wash, access roads, railroad, and nearby ranch in my mind. My client, of course, has photos. He took 90 pictures on our 1.6 hour flight.

The flight was interesting to me because it took me over terrain I hadn’t flown over before. The only other flight I’d done in the Tucson area was my “Border Patrol” flight with a photojournalist back in July. That flight had taken me from Nogales to Tucson on the west side of I-19, with thunderstorms to the east as we closed in on Tucson. This time, I was southeast of Tucson, over the rising desert terrain that leads to Benson and the San Pedro River. Not much to report, although there were some interesting land formations east of the river where the pipeline began its climb into the higher terrain of southeastern Arizona.

The flight ended with 4.2 hours of billable time, which certainly is welcome the same month I pay my annual helicopter insurance bill.

A more common job for me is sightseeing. On Wednesday, I did a custom sightseeing job out of Falcon Field in Mesa, AZ, for three men who wanted to explore the canyons and mines southeast of the Phoenix area. We started with a flight up the Salt River, keeping a respectable altitude to avoid the wilderness area below us. That took us over or near the four Salt River Lakes: Saguaro, Canyon, Apache, and Roosevelt. The first two lakes were full of water, while the second two were below capacity. There were some boats on the water, but not many that midweek day.

From Roosevelt lake, we flew east, high over the Salt River’s winding course, then headed south toward some smoke to check out what turned out to be a controlled burn. We hooked up with US 60 to the east of Globe and followed it west. That took us over the mining towns of Globe and Miami where we had a birdseye view down into a huge, active open strip copper mine. I’ve overflown the open pit mine at Bagdad, AZ many times, but the mine at Miami had to be at least 10 times the size. My passengers had driven past the place just the other day and were very interested in seeing what was hidden from the ground.

We continued along US 60 to Superior, then turned south to get a good look at what my passengers said was the largest strip mine in the world, between Superior and Kearny. It certainly was huge — both deep and wide, surrounded by leech fields and tailings piles. We could see giant dump trucks — and a few normal sized vehicles that provided a sense of scale — driving up and down the ramps to the mine’s bottom.

From there, we headed back, following the course of the Gila River for a short while, then hugging the mountain foothills to avoid an oddly placed Restricted area that appeared on both my chart and GPS. We followed US 60 into Apache Junction, where my passengers pointed out the condo they were staying in and speculated whether it was one of their wives that they saw in the hot tub. Then back into Falcon Field. A total of 1.7 billable hours.

On both flights, I had wonderful, friendly passengers who didn’t make unreasonable requests and seemed pleased with their flights. My helicopter handled very well (as usual) and I enjoyed the flying. But the best part of all — at least for me — was getting out and flying someplace different.

My helicopter is now down in Mesa, AZ, getting it’s annual inspection. I expect it back right before Christmas. Then it’s back to doing the work I like best — taking people for flights around Arizona.

Flying in Snow Showers

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Learning from experience.

We plan to spend Christmas weekend at our “camp” on Howard Mesa. We wanted to check the place out to make sure everything was okay before driving up there. It’s a three-hour drive but only a one-hour flight by helicopter. So, with about 5 hours to spare on Sunday morning before I had to do a presentation for the local writer’s group, we planned to fly up for an hour or two then.

We started checking the weather forecast on Saturday. Howard Mesa is between Williams, AZ, and the Grand Canyon’s South Rim (closer to Williams). The weather for both didn’t look good. Temperatures in the high 20s, high winds, and scattered snow showers. The three weather forecasts we checked (National Weather Service, Intellicast, and Weather.com) each had a different story to tell. NWS was most optimistic. Weather.com was most dire.

When the sun rose on Sunday morning, it illuminated a cloud bank that seemed to be passing over Wickenburg on its way northeast. To the north, the clouds looked low over the Weaver Mountains. But we could still see the top of Antelope Peak. The weather forecasts showed a front moving through. Show showers, winds 20 gusting to 30. But DUATS, a pilot weather service, didn’t paint as bad a picture.

I figured it was worth a try.

We got off the ground at 8:45 AM with full tanks of fuel and a few odds and ends we wanted to store in our shed. The winds at Wickenburg were light, out of the southwest. We climbed over the Weavers about 500 feet below the cloud bottoms. Ahead, the sky was dark with clouds that hung low. But visibility was good and we could see our next mountain landmark — Granite Mountain, west of Prescott. And we had a whopping 25-knot tailwind. So we kept going.

By the time we reached Granite Mountain, the sky ahead was completely overcast. We could see the Mongollon Rim and Mingus Mountain to the east. But to the north, the top of Bill Williams Mountain was obscured and the clouds seemed to be drifting downward. To the west, it looked like rain was falling. But to the east of Bill Williams, the clouds were higher and the way seemed clear. We could detour that way. So we kept going.

By the time we’d climbed the rim and were approaching the southeast side of Bill Williams Mountain, there were showers ahead of us. But they weren’t rain showers. They were snow showers. We flew into them and tiny pellets of snow pelted the cockpit bubble and mast. There was a dusting of snow in the forest beneath us. When I looked out at the fairing for the helicopter leg closest to my door, I saw tiny bits of white ice accumulating on the leading edge. Not a good thing. If ice were accumulating there, could it be accumulating on my rotor blades.

I have no experience with icing conditions, but I know icing is not a good thing. Yet the engine was running fine, my power setting was low, and the blades were behaving nicely. No loss of lift. We seemed okay. So we kept going.

Ahead of us, to the east of Williams, AZ, there were scattered snow showers all over the place. The sky and ground was a mix of dark and light. Occasionally, we’d catch a glimpse of blue sky through the speeding clouds a few hundred feet overhead. When the snow stopped, the ice on the skid leg fairing disappeared. When it started again, more ice appeared. We moved from tiny spots of sunlight to the deep, cool shade of low clouds. According to the AWOS, the visibility at Williams airport was 3 miles. We could see farther, but only in certain directions. Things were looking dicey, but according to the GPS, we were only 6 minutes away. Sheesh. How could I turn back? I could still see where I was going and there were plenty of places to make a precautionary landing if I needed to. So we kept going.

The worst of the snow showers appeared to be between us and Howard Mesa. We were less than 10 miles away and couldn’t see it. We started flying between snow showers, real scud running. I wish I had a GPS to track our path. We probably drew a line like a drunken sailor.

The six minutes turned out to be 10. The showers parted and we saw Howard Mesa before us. Then our neighbor’s house. Then our shed. I put on the brakes as I passed our windsock. It was hanging straight out. I turned into the wind and came in for a landing as a fresh show shower pelleted us.

It felt good to be on the ground.

We spent about two hours there, checking things out. It was a good thing, because some pipes were broken and we’ll need to bring tools and parts up with us for Christmas weekend to fix them. But at least we know what to expect.

While we worked, the weather blew around and past us. The wind had to be blowing at least 20 knots. Snow came and went. Some of the hard little crystals accumulated on the ground around the shed. I wanted to wait until things cleared up a bit before departing, but the weather wasn’t cooperating. It was a constantly changing scene, with snow showers and sun, with visibility ranging from a mile to five miles.

Finally, we could wait no more. We climbed back into the helicopter — which had remained ice-free — and I started it up. The weather around us must have changed 10 times while the engine warmed up. I kept changing my mind about which way we’d fly after takeoff. Finally, we were ready to go. I picked up and the wind hurried us through ETL. I departed to the west, which had the best visibility.

Now we were flying into the wind, around one snow shower after another. The scud running lasted almost until we reached Granite Mountain. Our path took us farther to the west than we usually flew, west of Ash Fork, Paulden, and Chino Valley. Visibility never got really bad — certainly not enough to make me worry. It was just an inconvenience. It took us an extra 30 minutes to get home.

It was my third experience with scud running — we really don’t get much bad weather here in Arizona — and when it was over, I felt okay. I never felt worried or as if I were out of control. There were always several options for getting to a safe haven, whether it was a clear place out of my way or a precautionary landing in a field. I think Mike and I learned a lot from the experience.

Back in Wickenburg, the wind was light. Big fluffy clouds floated by in a blue sky. No indication of the stormy skies less than 100 miles to the north.