Tag Archives: helicopters

People – What are they thinking?

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I try to understand how some people think.

The other day, I was up in Prescott, taking care of some business for Flying M Air. Since it had been three or more years since my last eye exam and my vision was starting to fail again, I made an appointment for an eye exam at the Sears Optical department. (I could go into a long story here about why I don’t get my eyes checked in Wickenburg, but I’ll keep it simple: inconvenient hours, bad service, and/or questionable business practices, depending on which eye care practitioner you visit.)

I arrived early, and while I was waiting, I did a little shopping in the mall. I needed a new purse. I’d been looking for a while, but finally found just the right one at Dillards. (Nothing like that feeling of success when you’re been trying hard to find something and finally hit paydirt.) Outside of Dillards was a kitchen store. I needed a box of those little gas canisters for my whip cream machine. I always forget to buy them when I’m in those stores because they keep them behind the counter. (Apparently, kids inhale the gas to get high, so they commonly steal them from the stores.) I don’t see them so I don’t remember to buy them. I remembered that day and I took care of it then.

The woman behind the counter noticed the Flying M Air logo on my shirt. “Do you fly helicopters?” she asked.

I admitted that I did.

“Do you want to hear a great story about a helicopter?”

“Sure.” I always like hearing great stories.

She then proceeded to tell me about her boss’s father, who had been killed in Buckeye in a gyroplane accident. She managed to mangle the information about the cause of the accident just enough to assure me that she had no idea what she was talking about. The story was not great — nothing good happened in it at all. The guy got himself killed because he apparently lost control of the aircraft. (Stupid pilot tricks.) And the story wasn’t even about helicopters.

I don’t recall how I reacted to the story. I must have said appropriately polite things. But in my mind, I was trying to figure out why she had told me the story at all. That’s what I was still thinking about when I left the store and went to my eye exam.

So why did she tell me the story? And why are some people so consumed by the misfortune of others? Why do people watch news stories that report bad things? What’s with people?

Off-Roading by Helicopter

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I learn that even a helicopter can get stuck in the mud.

The idea was to show Mike’s brother, who is in town this week, a few of the more interesting spots out in the desert. So we took him to one of our favorites, an abandoned house north of Lake Pleasant.

The house sits in a saddle between two mountain peaks and there isn’t much clear, level ground near it. So I usually park on a dirt road that winds past it. That day was no different. I hover-taxied along the road, looking for a level spot to set down. I was quite surprised to see that the road, which was still wet from all the rain we’d been having, appeared to have been used recently by an ATV or some other narrow wheelbase vehicle.

The first place I attempted to set down didn’t seem level enough. The problem, I later discovered, was a CG issue. Mike’s brother is a big boy and having him sit in the front seat was pushing my CG much more forward than I was accustomed to. As a result, the fronts of the skids were touching down long before the backs of the skids. But on that first set down, I wasn’t thinking that. I just figured the LZ wasn’t level. So I picked it back up and moved a bit farther down the road.

I set down in another spot and although it didn’t seem level (probably due to the CG issue again), I put full collective down and we settled into the ground. Unfortunately, I mean that literally. We settled into the ground. The ground on my side was soft and the right skid sunk into it.

I looked out my window at the skid. It was sunk in about 1/2 inch, mostly in the back. It didn’t look too bad. We decided to get out, walk around as we’d originally intended, and deal with the sunken skid when we got back.

I don’t know if it was a bad idea or not. Mike claims the helicopter sunk in a bit more while we were away — perhaps 45 minutes. While we explored the ruins, we picked up discarded pieces of lumber, blackened with age. We each carried some of it back to the helicopter with the idea that we’d somehow lift the skid out of the mud and slip the wood beneath it for support.

I really don’t know what we were thinking. The helicopter weighs 1500 lbs empty and it had about 30 gallons of fuel on board (180 lbs). Although the left skid had settled onto relatively firm ground, the right skid was definitely sunk in. Mike slipped a metal can top under the back of the right skid. Then we had his brother pull down on the tail rotor gearbox to lift the front end of the helicopter out of the mud so we could slip wood pieces under the fronts of the skids.

That was definitely a bad idea. Although the fronts of the skids sat nicely on wood, the backs of the skids — both of them! — sunk deeper into the mud. Now we had a real problem.

At this point, you might be saying, what’s the problem? It’s a helicopter. Just start it up and take off.

Helicopter skid in mudIt’s not that simple. If one of a helicopter’s skids is stuck in something, it could create a pivot point. Then, when you start to lift off, the skid remains stuck. If you keep going, the entire helicopter could fly over onto its side. This is called dynamic rollover and it’s the cause of more than a few accidents. As far as I was concerned, the skid could be seriously stuck in the mud, creating a pivot point. I was not about to take off until I was sure the skid was clear of mud. So we dug. The ground was very soft and the pieces of wood we’d brought made relatively good digging tools. As we dug, we hammered pieces of wood under the skids, using rocks as hammers. Of course the trick there was to keep those pieces of wood relatively flat so they wouldn’t create pivot points. We worked on it for about an hour. We got very muddy. Our shoes kept sticking in the stuff and, more than once, my foot slipped out of my shoe when I tried to walk. (I hate when that happens.) At one point, I thought I might have to call for help — we just didn’t seem to be making the situation any better. But then we cleared most of the mud aside and I was satisfied that we’d done the best we could do.

Mike’s brother and I got in while Mike stood outside, watching to see if the vibrations of the helicopter’s engine and blades would cause it to sink deeper into the muck. I started up and warmed up the engine. Everything looked good. Mike got in. I told them both to keep quiet so I could concentrate. And then I very carefully pulled up the collective, making sure that I didn’t move laterally in any direction as we got light on the skids.”You’re off the ground back here,” Mike told me.

I’d picked up so smoothly that I hadn’t even felt it. We were airborne, I pulled more pitch and rose two feet off the ground. Then I pushed the cyclic forward and we took off, over the edge of the cliff and into the valley beyond.

Another learning experience. But a messy one.

No Thanks to the Media

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Media coverage of the Hassayampa River flooding turns Wickenburg’s airspace into a danger zone of low-flying aircraft.

Wickenburg was on the news quite a bit this past weekend. It seems that the Phoenix-area news teams heard about the damage on Jack Burden Road and decided to fly up to get some live footage. At various times, each of the Phoenix TV helicopters were in town, beaming images of the new waterfront housing back to the city. It was just the kind of disaster the media likes and they made good use of it.

Of course, it also created a tourist attraction for pilots in the Phoenix area. I nearly had a close encounter with one of them on Sunday.

I’d just departed the airport, heading out toward Lake Pleasant. My normal path takes me over the river near town. My normal altitude is 500 AGL, far below the altitudes most airplanes fly. So imagine my surprise when I saw a single engine airplane slightly below my altitude, flying right up the river toward me.

I took evasive action, veering to the east and climbing. (My usual evasive maneuver to avoid airplanes is to descend, since they’re normally above me, so this was weird.) “Airplane over Wickenburg, are you on frequency?” I asked into the radio.

No answer.

This pissed me off. The guy was less than 5 miles from an operating airport and he wasn’t even on the airport frequency. There were at least two other airplanes in the area — I’d heard both of them on the radio. There was a real danger of one of them meeting up with this idiot in the air.

“Wickenburg traffic, be advised that there is a low-flying airplane over the town, flying up the Hassayampa River. He is not on frequency.”

John, who was working at the FBO, made some comment I didn’t catch. The airplane passed below us, to our right. We continued flying out of town, now avoiding the river and any other aerial tourists it may have attracted.

The only thing I regret is that I didn’t get the jerk’s N-Number. He was close enough to see it, but I was more concerned with getting out of his way than identifying him. Next time will be different.

Wrath of the Hassayampa

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Our normally invisible river shows its ugly side.

“A house hit the bridge.”I heard this unusual comment while visiting a friend’s booth at the art fair at the library yesterday. It seemed that the Hassayampa River, which has been running for about two months now, had reached flood stage. And as usually happens to flooded rivers, it had altered its course a bit. As a result, its muddy waters had attacked Jack Burden Road, which runs along the east side of the river. A trailer park there was in serious trouble.

Mike and I walked to the bridge to have a look. There were already hundreds of people there. Although the bridge had been closed for a while so the police could determine whether the bridge had been damaged when the house hit it, it was now fully open. Cars moved slowly in both directions and people crowded the upstream side, waiting for the next house to float by.

There was no next house — at least not while we were there. But there was a lot of activity on the far side of the bridge, where Jack Burden Road was. I didn’t remember the houses being so close to the water. And I could swear there had been more trees in the area.

We ran into Ray, who was watching the festivities with his wife. Ray had been flying earlier in the day. For that matter, so had I. I’d gotten a call from a woman named Kathy who told me she needed a helicopter to “rescue” Marshall Trimble, the Arizona State Historian. Mr. Trimble was stranded at the Kay El Bar Ranch, which was cut off from the world by the Hassayampa on one side and Martinez Wash on the other. He was supposed to be the Grand Marshall of the Gold Rush Days parade they had in town that day, but when I got the call, the parade was just about over. (You’d think someone in town would have suggested me a bit sooner.) I told Kathy that Ray was already in the air and that she should call the airport and have them use the radio to talk to him. I was downtown and it would take at least 45 minutes to get back to the airport and launch.

I called her back ten minutes later to make sure she’d reached Ray. She hadn’t. And she seemed very concerned. Mr. Trimble had an engagement in Phoenix that evening and would miss it. So I arranged to have her drive me to the airport — Mike had wandered off on horseback with a friend and his truck keys. She took me in her Miata, which was even dirtier inside than my Jeep, and accompanied me while I pulled Zero-Mike-Lima out of its hangar and onto the ramp. Then she climbed aboard and I started up. While the engine warmed up, she told me stories about her days as a helicopter news reporter. Then we launched and headed northeast for the 2-minute flight to Kay El Bar.

She told me that there was a helipad a half mile west of the ranch. I’ve been flying around Wickenburg for more than four years now and I didn’t remember seeing any helipad near Kay El Bar. She also told me that Mr. Trimble would be riding a horse to the helipad. Okay. We reached the ranch and looked around. There were some people gathered near one side of a house pad — a cleared and level piece of land that is being prepared for construction. Grantham Ranch is a housing development that’s just starting to be built in that area. This particular house pad overlooked the ranch and the river. And, as we began to circle, I saw two horses heading up what would someday be a driveway. I began my descent. A few moments later, I was on the ground and two men — one of them wearing chaps — were coming toward me.

I instructed Kathy to tell them not to walk behind the helicopter. She got out while I sat at the controls with the engine idling. They loaded an overnight bag, soft briefcase, and guitar into the back of the helicopter. Then Mr. Trimble — the man without the chaps — got in and buckled up. The cowboy moved away, I spun up, and after a quick look around, took off.

Hassayampa FloodI could have hurried right back the airport, but since none of us were in any rush, I figured I’d take the opportunity to check out the river. We flew past Kay El Bar, which had water right up to its front lawn, and headed up the river. A number of ranches had some water flowing through their low spots. I watched some cattle cross a stream. But the most dramatic scene was at the narrow slow canyon north of town — the water was squeezing through the slot and had reached a depth of at least 20 feet. There would be no driving through the slot anytime soon.

I turned and headed back down the river. We swung out over where the carnival was, then headed back to the airport. I landed and shut down. I let my two passengers go back to town in the Miata, figuring I’d get a ride back with Mike. I think they had trouble getting the guitar in there. A while later, I was back at the art fair with Mike and Zero-Mike-Lima was in its hangar.

We’d had lunch there and had been walking around for at least an hour when I heard the comment about the house and we went to the bridge to check it out. I hadn’t noticed anything during my flight, but I admit that I don’t exactly study the ground while I’m flying. When we ran into Ray, I told him that we should go up and see if we could find that house. I was joking at the time, but after a while, it sounded like a good idea. A bit more interesting than the art show and carnival, anyway. So Mike and I went home to get a camera, then headed back to the airport. We pulled Zero-Mike-Lima out again and parked it on the ramp, facing into the wind. The wind was coming from the southwest and was blowing pretty good. The sky was filled with an amazing variety of clouds, from rain-dumping clouds out to the north to big, puffy clouds to the west and southwest. The ceilings were still high enough for safe flight, so I started up, warmed up, and took off.

Don from LifeNet made a radio call when he was six miles out. He was returning from the valley to Wickenburg Airport, where he’d refuel before parking at the hospital. I made a call so he’d know where I was.

“I didn’t know you could fly those in the rain,” he teased me.

“Sure I can,” I replied. “How do you think I get the bugs off the windscreen?”

“Well, I told you what’ll happen if you keep watering it.” His joke was that my R22 had turned into an R44 (which is bigger) because I’d watered it.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I figure that if I fly it in the rain enough, I might be able to turn it into a Sikorsky S92.” An S92 is a very big helicopter.

“There you go!” he laughed.

Missing HouseWe flew over town and circled the area around the bridge. Mike got some excellent photos of the damage on Jack Burden Road — which you really couldn’t see from the ground — and the carnival right across the river. Then we headed up the river so I could show Mike how full the slot canyon was. It was raining up there, so I turned around and headed back down the river, in search of what was left of the house that had gone downstream. We hit a pretty nasty downdraft just past the bridge and since neither of us liked that, I climbed an extra 200 feet. It was a good thing I did, because when we got to the Morristown area, a helicopter flew under us, going up river. I don’t even know if he saw us. I turned around and followed him upriver, keeping some distance between us. At about that time, Don from LifeNet made a call for his departure from the airport. A moment later, I heard him on the radio again, asking the helicopter over town if it was on frequency. Although I expected the helicopter ahead of me to answer, it was Ray who replied. That meant there were four helicopters operating over town at the same time.

It turned out that the helicopter who’d passed me was from Channel 5 TV. Ray told me as I neared downtown and he was heading down the river. Channel 5 wasn’t on the local airport frequency (123.0), but I found them on the helicopter air-to-air frequency (123.025). They were in a high hover just north of the bridge when I flew past to the west. We headed up Martinez Wash, past Scenic Loop and over Ray’s quarry. Then back down the river. Mike took lots of pictures. Ray moved out toward Constellation Road, Channel 5 went back to Phoenix, and we flew south to Morristown again, then west. I flew over the top of Vulture Peak, then down to Vulture Mine, where a lot of dirt bike riders were gathered for some kind of event. Finally, we headed back to the airport.

We hadn’t found the house. Chances are, it had broken into a million pieces when it hit the bridge.

After seeing the river’s fury today, I’m amazed that the Arizona Department of Transportation would even consider adding another bridge and/or a roadway on its banks. Jack Burden Road may not have been built with today’s technology, but it certainly provides a good example of how the power of water can destroy what man builds.

The Governor Needs a Helicopter

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It could save her time and save the taxpayers money.

I got in to Wickenburg Airport yesterday afternoon sometime after 4:00 PM and set down near the pumps. When the blades stopped spinning and I finally got out with my passengers, I noticed a couple of men in suit jackets waiting in the parking area.

Gus came out of the terminal. “See those guys with the suits?” he asked me. “They’re with the FAA and they want to talk to you.”

As usual, Gus’s delivery was deadpan so I couldn’t help but believe him. I looked at the men. They seemed to be looking back at me. “About what?” I asked. I was near the end of my Part 135 certification process and the last thing I wanted was trouble with the FAA. On a Saturday, no less.

“It must be about you running out of fuel in the desert,” he said.

Technically, I hadn’t run out of fuel. I still had 1/8 tank. But I’d gotten a Low Fuel light four miles short of Wickenburg and had made a precautionary landing on a dirt road in the desert about two miles from pavement. I’d been stranded with Mike and two friends for about 30 minutes when my friend Ray delivered 10.7 gallons of 100LL and took off in his Hughes 500D to continue roaming the desert or chasing cows or doing whatever it is that he does when he’s burning JetA.

“There’s nothing wrong with making a precautionary landing,” I said defensively.

Gus laughed. “They’re not for you,” he said. “They’re for the governor. She’s flying in to Wickenburg.”

As he spoke, a few more suits showed up. The parking lot was nearly full. I remembered a trip to local radio station KBSZ-AM the day before. Rebecca from Robson’s had been there and she was all excited that the governor was going to pay them a visit. I never got a chance to ask why the governor was going to travel out to a mining museum/tourist attraction tucked into the mountains north of Aguila.

“This late?” I asked.

“Yeah. She’s due to arrive any minute now. She’s going out to Robson’s and then to something at the museum. She’s leaving here at 7:10.”

I looked at my watch. It was nearly 4:30 PM. Robson’s was at least 35 minutes away by car. “She’s going all the way out to Robson’s and back and then to the museum in less than three hours? What’s she coming in?”

“A King Air.”

A King Air is a big twin. “From Phoenix?” I asked with some disbelief.

“I think so.”

“That’s a bit of overkill, don’t you think?”

He pretty much agreed with me.

“So she’s going to fly in a King Air from Phoenix to Wickenburg, then hop in a car and drive all the way out to Robson’s?”

“I believe that’s the plan.”

“I should take her to Robson’s in my helicopter,” I said. “It’s a ten minute flight from here and I can land right by Robson’s gate. It’ll save her two long car rides. Suggest it to them, will you?”

He said he would. I parked the helicopter, wasted another half hour around the airport, and went to Safeway to do some grocery shopping. As we went into the store, the governor’s King Air flew overhead on its way to the airport. It was nearly 5:00 PM. That meant the governor would tackle the two half-hour car rides, Robson’s visit, and museum visit in just over two hours. Not likely. I had a sneaking suspicion that Rebecca would not see the governor that evening.

Of course, if the governor had a helicopter, it could save her plenty of time and save the taxpayers lots of money. The helicopter would have to be one like mine — not a fancy turbine job — because it’s relatively inexpensive to operate (compared to King Airs and Turbine helicopters), comfortable, and reliable.

Here’s how it could work. Any time the governor had to travel to a destination within 100 miles of her office, she could arrange for transportation by helicopter. The helicopter could pick her and two companions up at any designated landing zone — even a parking lot near her office in Phoenix — thus saving her the amount of time it takes to travel from her office to Sky Harbor, Deer Valley, Scottsdale, or wherever she normally departs from. No delays waiting for air traffic control, either. Then the helicopter could take her right to her destination and land in an appropriate landing zone there. No need to land at a suitable airport that might be 10 or 20 or 30 miles away from the final destination. More time saved. The helicopter cruises at 130 MPH, which isn’t as fast as a King Air, but much faster than a car. It could get to destinations within 100 miles in less than an hour. And while she was in flight, she’d be within 1000 feet of the ground, so she could actually see what she was flying over. Maybe it would give her a good look at the urban sprawl the Phoenix area suffers from or a glimpse of off-the-grid life out in the desert.

Now some people might say that the governor’s arrival and departure by helicopter might be too showy and a good example of how government spends taxpayer money. But I will argue that this mode of transportation, especially for distances under 100 miles, is far more cost effective than a King Air. And I think everyone would agree that the governor’s time would be much better spent en route to her destination than sitting in traffic and dealing with airport delays.

As for me? I’m no fool. I’ll take the helicopter where I’m going whenever I can. And it isn’t because I don’t have a King Air.