Tag Archives: horses

Labor Day Weekend Greetings from Howard Mesa

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Silence and solitude in the middle of nowhere.

I’m writing this from the picnic table outside our camping shed at Howard Mesa. We’ve got 40 acres on top of a mesa up here, about 35 miles south of the Grand Canyon. It’s pretty much undeveloped land, with five miles of partially maintained dirt road between our slice of Arizona’s high desert and pavement. There’s only one house in sight and, as usual, it’s deserted.

The silence at this time of the morning — 6 AM — is astounding. It’s the kind of silence that makes your ears work overtime trying to hear something. And when there is a sound — like Jack the Dog lapping up his water right now — it’s almost deafening. You can play the radio here with the volume turned down to 1 and still hear it fine.

It’s absolutely beautiful up here. The sun has just risen, casting a golden light over the grassy hills around us. There’s been a lot of rain up here this monsoon season, so the grass is green and lush. Our horses are wandering around, grazing. The whole 40 acres is fenced in, giving them plenty of space, but they like hanging around the shed and are seldom out of view. Later on, we’ll catch them and go for a ride.

It’s also very clear today. Yesterday’s rain must have washed away the dust that sometimes lingers in the air. We can clearly see the mountains out by Seligman to the west and Mount Trumbull on the Arizona Strip nearly 80 miles away.The sun is just to the north of the San Francisco Peaks, leaving them in silhouette. My new windsock, which we put up last time we were here, is hanging limp right now, but I know it’ll be moving later, when the wind picks up.

If you’re reading this, it means that I’ve managed to get my little PowerBook to go online via my Treo’s Internet connection using a Bluetooth connection between the two devices. I always compose blog entries with an offline editor — I prefer ecto — and that’s pretty convenient up here. I finish up the entry, get the Treo online, and then get the PowerBook to use that connection. If you’re reading this, it means I’ve succeeded.

I may not blog much this weekend. It’s my last big break before I need to switch into high gear to finish my Leopard book. After that, Flying M Air’s flying season will be in full swing — I already have much of September and nearly all of October booked. So I plan to enjoy the weekend with a hike, a horseback ride or two, a trip into Flagstaff, and some chores around the shed, preparing it for the winter.

I’ll be sending photos to my TumbleLog throughout the weekend from my Treo. Check it out if you have an interest in seeing what northern Arizona looks like in early September.

And, of course, I’ll be tweeting. You can read yesterday’s tweets here each morning. If you do or don’t like this feature, be sure to track down the poll about it and vote. I’ll be acting on your responses to this poll sometime around the middle of the month, so don’t delay.

[composed on top of a mesa in the middle of nowhere with ecto]

When They Say Flash Flood Warning…

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They’re not kidding!

Okay, so I’ll eat my words.

Wash Flowing at 12:00 PMRight after my last post, when I claimed it would take at least an hour to get the wash flowing, the wash started to flow. It was a trickle at first — as it usually is — but by the time I went down to fetch the horses five minutes after this photo was taken, I had to walk through flowing water to reach them.

Wash FlowingIt was raining like hell at the time and I was wearing gym shorts with a rain jacket. I was dry from the waist up and soaking wet from the waist down. My legs were covered with the junk that had been floating in the water I had to wade through. I took this shot after going back up to the house for my camera. Here’s where the horses had been taking shelter from the rain. All that brownish gunk is floodwater with standing waves.

Wash Flowing at 12:35 PMA half hour after taking the first photo, I snapped this second one. It’s the same view plus a ton of muddy flowing water. The wash is flowing dangerously fast. In fact, anyone stupid enough to walk or drive into it would be swept away — as our garbage pails, neighbor’s fence, and horse feeders were. Those are drawbacks of having occasional waterfront property.

Wash FlowingIt got scary for a while. My neighbor’s horses live about 4 feet above the flood plain. But the water started making its way in. Soon, three of them were standing in about a foot of water. There was no one on that side of the wash to rescue them and I couldn’t cross over. Fortunately, they stayed calm. The water started to recede not long after I realized the danger.

As I type this, my neighbor is trying to rebuild his road with a Bobcat he has just for that purpose. I’m wondering how much fence is blocking the driveway under all that shifted sand and muck. Three Phoenix news helicopters are operating over town, video taping the receding floods. I’m starting to wonder why I’m not out there with them, getting a good view from my own helicopter.

It’s only 2:30 PM…maybe I will take a little flight…

Bradshaw Mountain Back Road Adventure

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An escape from the heat takes my Jeep to the limit.

Since I got my Nikon D80 digital SLR a few months ago, I’ve rekindled my interest in photography. (For most people, it would be the other way around: rekindle interest, then dump huge sums of money on equipment they don’t need. But I have a tendency to go about things bass ackwards.) I’ve been wanting to do a few day trips to interesting places to see what images I can come home with.

And of course, with daily temperatures in the 100s (that’s the 40s for the rest of the world), any outdoor activity would have to be done in higher elevations, where it’s cooler.

So when I suggested a trip up to the Bradshaw Mountains by Jeep and Mike agreed it was a good idea, we didn’t dawdle. Within an hour, I had topo maps for all of Arizona back on my Garmin GPSmap 60c (Alaska had been on it from our recent vacation), ice and food in a cooler, and my camera and a change of clothes in a canvas bag. We were good to go.

The West Slopes of the Bradshaw Mountains

The Bradshaws are a small mountain range south of the town of Prescott, AZ. They start at Granite Mountain, just west of the town and stretch southeast toward Phoenix, ending just north of Lake Pleasant. Most mountains are in the 5000 to 7000 foot range, with plenty of deep valleys and canyons between them.

The Hassayampa River, which flows through Wickenburg — well, mostly underground, at least — has it source up in those mountains and it cuts a deep canyon not far from where Route 89 winds north from Yarnell to Prescott. I fly over the canyon routinely on my way to Prescott or Sedona from Wickenburg, so I know it well.

On the west side of the Bradshaws, the manzanita-covered slopes fall down toward the dry riverbed and nearby Weaver Mountains. That valley is high desert, with sparse vegetation and few shade trees. Up on top of the Bradshaws is the area most folks refer to as “the pines.” It’s where you can find tall pine trees and, in the winter, snow. The whole area is dotted with abandoned mine sites, connected by a network of unmaintained dirt roads and trails.

It was these mining roads that we wanted to explore.

The Drive

Mike, Jack the Dog, and I set off from Wickenburg at about 10 AM. It was hot — in the 90s — and partly cloudy. The usual monsoon season late morning weather. We headed northwest on Route 93, then north on route 89. We passed through Congress, AZ and climbed the west side of the Weaver Mountains to Yarnell. We made a brief stop for baked goods at Yarnell’s excellent Cornerstone Bakery, then continued on to Peeples Valley, where we stopped for gas. (I like having at least a half tank when we go off-road.)

Baby HorseJust past Peeple’s Valley, we stopped for a while to photograph a herd of semi-wild horses. The horses are owned by the Maughan Ranch folks, who turn them out into a 40- to 80 acre pasture. While out there, the mares and the stallions get together. Eleven months later, there are foals. The foals have never been handled by people and are about as close to wild horses as you can get in a fenced-in area. There were about 40 horses out there when we stopped and at least a dozen of them were babies, not much more than 6 months old.

Mare and BabyI wanted to photograph horses in a natural setting, with desert mountains in the distance. But being the time of day it was — nap-time for a horse — they just stood around half asleep on their feet. The babies were curious about us and one, whose mother actually came up to the fence to say hello and get an ear rub, came close enough to touch. But, in general, it wasn’t the scene I was thinking about for photos. The 20 or so shots I took with various lenses were very disappointing. These shots, however, can give you a pretty good idea of the scene.

Off Pavement Windmills

We climbed back in the Jeep and continue on 89, heading toward Prescott. We passed through the three houses that comprise Kirkland Junction and through the town of Wilhoit. About a quarter mile past the Nowhere Inn bar, we made a right turn onto our first dirt road.

At this point, we were not following a regular map. Although the Prescott National Forest map has all the fire road numbers and is more up-to-date than any other map I know, we were using the topo map I’d fed into my GPS that morning. I had the GPS on and plugged into the Jeep’s cigarette lighter so I didn’t have to worry about running down batteries. I’d cleared a track log and was letting the GPS track exactly where we went. If you have a GPS and can load .GPX files into it, you can download the track log here. You can then retrace our steps with your GPS. But if you must have road numbers, I can pull them off the All Topo Maps software I use to look at my route on a map. According to the software, we turned off on road 72. I admit that I don’t recall seeing a sign.

We’d been on this road from Wilhoit before, so it was familiar. It was a sandy dirt road that wound down a hill to the Hassayampa River, a gentle drop of about 1000 feet in elevation. Along the way were two windmills and the turnoff to a relatively new shooting facility.

I like to photograph windmills. There’s something about windmills that I really like. It could be their devotion to duty, far away from civilization. It could be the way they squeal and creak in the wind, especially when a breeze blows just enough to get them moving. It could be that they’re remnants of the past that continue to serve in this modern day and age. Or it could simply be their utilitarian design: no frills functionality.

So we stopped at each windmill for a few shots.

Orofino WindmillThe first windmill, the Orofino Windmill, was a non-functioning relic. Its blades were badly damaged, the bar from the windmill to the pump was half gone, and its vane was damaged by shotgun fire. It stood nearly motionless, like an aging sentinel for the empty cattle pens and dry water tanks around it. Beyond it, the monsoon season clouds blossomed and drifted in the otherwise blue sky. Just before we left, a breeze blew the vane, rewarding me with a satisfying squeal as the windmill’s head shifted 10° to the left.

Orofino Windmill

Another Orofino Wash WindmillThe next windmill, which was on the right, was in better condition and still functioning. It has no name on my map, but lies at the intersection of our dirt road with a much less-used road. There was a young black cow standing at the concrete water tank when we pulled up, but as soon as we opened the Jeep’s doors, it fled and we didn’t see it again. The windmill spun lazily in the breeze, not making a sound. It was obviously well greased and well cared-for.

Across the River and Up the Wash

A short time later, we dropped into the Hassayampa River basin. The riverbed was completely dry. The area where the road meets the riverbed is filled with huge piles of gravel. According to my map, they’re dredge tailings, probably from an old mine a short distance upstream. There are quite a few of them — obviously enough to put them on a map.

The road turns downstream here — upstream is a narrow, twisting canyon where no road can go. We followed it for a short distance, although our track diverges from the supposed road. Another road that crossed the riverbed branched off to the left and we followed it. Soon, we were in the narrow streambed of Buzzard Roost Wash, climbing up the side of a mountain. My map identifies it as road 9712E, although again, I don’t recall seeing a sign where we turned onto it.

We’d been on this road in the past, too. It’s an extremely narrow road — keep your Hummer at home. On much of the road, the vegetation crowded in on us. Branches scratched at the side of the Jeep, giving it plenty more “Arizona pinstriping.” (I had decided, not long after I’d bought the Jeep brand new in 1999, that I wasn’t going to fret about keeping the paint job nice. Good decision.) Because the road was mostly in a stream bed, the erosion was considerable. In a few places, the road was very narrow — better suited for ATVs than Jeeps. But we managed, even in the very tight spots, to keep the Jeep on its wheels.

We made a short stop at what my GPS told me was Buzzard Spring. We got out to look for the spring and, at one point, my GPS told me we were within 16 feet of it. But there wasn’t any water to be found and no large cottonwood trees, which usually betray the presence of year-round water in the Arizona desert. So we got back in the Jeep and kept driving.

Bradshaw Mountain RoadsWe were probably on that road for at least 45 minutes, always climbing. There wasn’t anything interesting along the way, although there were one or two spots where we could get a view back toward the river. After a particularly narrow spot, we emerged at the top of the ridge where the road we were on intersected with another dirt road, labeled 667 on my map. We turned left, then stopped to consult the GPS map. The photo you see here is looking back toward the road we’d come up on (on the right) and the road we were now on (to the left).

Manzanita BarkThe vegetation all around us was mostly holly and manzanita. The manzanita have dark red bark and small leaves. It’s a hard wood and is commonly used for perches in parrot bird cages because even hookbills have a hard time chewing through it. Although the bark is normally very smooth, I did find a bunch of trees with peeled, curling bark. There were also some pines, although I didn’t pay attention to what kind. Probably juniper — they were short like the rest of the bushes.

Following Ridges

We continued northeast along the ridge, making a few exploratory turnoffs but always returning to the “main” road. Up head, we faced another intersection with a choice of three roads. One (road 9708C) was marked as a “trail,” led off to the right, and descended back down into Slate Creek. This was not the direction we wanted to go. Another (road 9405Y) was also marked as a “trail,” descended back down to Buzzard Roost Wash (farther upstream from where we’d been) and then climbed up to another ridge and into the mountains. The continuation of road 667 was marked as an “unpaved road” and continued along the ridge were were on up into the mountains. While either of the ridge roads went where we wanted to go — they actually intersected 5 or more miles up the road — we thought “unpaved road” sounded better than “trail” and decided to stay on 667.

This turned out to be the wrong decision. Although the road started out easy enough, it soon reached a place where it climbed steeply up a hill. Years of erosion and Jeep/ATV traffic had loosened the rock on the road. So we were faced with a 45° upslope filled with gaping holes, huge rocks, and loose gravel. This was the kind of road that they would put on Jeep commercials if people actually drove their Jeeps places like this. But I don’t think the marketing companies want to scare away potential Jeep owners with roads like this.

I didn’t want to try it so I climbed out and Mike took my place at the wheel. He threw it into 4WD Low and attempted the climb. Four times. He churned up gravel with all tires and, on several instances, had at least one wheel a foot or more off the surface of the road. It was not pretty. Not wanting to damage the Jeep beyond the usual scratches and dents, we gave up. He backed up down the hill, found a place to make a U-turn, and we headed back to the intersection.

My only regret is that I didn’t take any photos.

Trails Can Be Roads

We turned onto the road marked as a “trail” on the GPS map. Mike was a little nervous about this. I reminded him that the GPS data was based on topo maps that were 20 or more years old. In that time, trails could become roads and roads could become trails. This turned out to be the right way of looking at it. The road was in pretty good shape — better than the one we’d climbed from the river — and after dipping down into a wash, climbed onto a ridge with lots of scenic views and more than a few turns to old mine sites.

Miner's ShackAlthough the road we were on curved to the left where it would dead-end just past the remains of the Jersey Lily mine, we turned right onto road 97B, which continued climbing up into the mountains. We made a brief stop at the site of the Big Chief Mine. The access road had long been overgrown with bushes and weeds, but we made our way forward on foot for a few hundred feet. Off to the right, on the side of a hill, we spotted the remains of an old wooden shack. The path to reach it was overgrown and we didn’t dare attempt it in shorts.

In general, the mine remains were pretty disappointing. We saw plenty of shafts — most of which were probably at least partially filled in to discourage exploration — but not much in the way of ruins other than the shack. But it wasn’t as if we were actively looking for the mines, either. We’d been on the mountain roads for several hours and weather was moving in. Even as we got back into the Jeep at the Big Chief Mine, thunder was rumbling close overhead — we were at almost 6,000 feet elevation — and raindrops were starting to fall. Mike wanted to get back on roads we could trust before the one we were on got too wet. Dirt roads in the desert sometimes get “snotty” when they’re wet; driving on them can be treacherous.

Lunch Break

Storm Clouds Near PrescottFinally, when it seemed as if we’d reach more well-traveled roads soon, Mike agreed to stop for lunch. It was 1:30 PM. Although it was still raining, we found a spot under a juniper tree where we settled down on the ground and opened the cooler. We don’t picnic with sandwiches, like a lot of people do. We picnic with deli department treats. That day, it was fresh mozzarella “medallions,” thinly sliced prosciutto, marinated whole artichoke hearts, green olives with garlic, and dry salami. Yum. While we ate, we watched the weather all around us. I took this photo of the area to the north; you can see the rain coming down in the vicinity of downtown Prescott, just beyond the hills.

We continued on our way, now driving down the side of the mountain’s arm, descending into a canyon filled with tall pines. We passed where the road we’d wanted to take intersected with ours and continued dropping down toward the Hassayampa River. We spotted the roof of a house, then passed by a chain link fence that protected the home from intruders. Civilization. Not very friendly.

We stopped for a moment at Scotty Spring where a cement tank was filled with water. I got out to rinse my hands from lunch. We spotted a camera fixed to a tree. Mike says they use them to monitor wildlife at the water source. We waved.

We attempted to drive down road 9403P, which went all the way down to the river. Sometimes there’s water in the river there and I was anxious to see if there were any wading holes. But our way was blocked by two fallen pine trees. Although we probably could have moved them with the towstrap I keep in the Jeep and the Jeep itself, it didn’t seem worth the effort. So we doubled back again to 97B and followed it to where it crossed the river. The crossing was completely dry. I reminded Mike that the last time we’d crossed there, we’d been on horseback and my horse had been afraid to walk in the water.

The End of the Adventure

Click to enlargeFrom there, we followed the road through the community of Ponderosa Park, finally ending up on pavement back on Route 89. We’d been on back roads for about 5 hours, exploring the high desert. The map shown here (click it for a larger view) shows the terrain we covered.) We were tired. I turned left and headed back to Wickenburg.

I didn’t get the pictures I wanted. I was looking for more dramatic scenes, more dramatic landscapes. The 64 photos on my camera’s card were disappointing.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t try a trip like this again.

Four Steps to Get the Most Out of Twitter

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Some tips for taking the “yuk” out.

I first heard about Twitter a few months ago on either the MacBreak Weekly or TWiT (This Week in Tech) podcast. (Both highly recommended, by the way.) I immediately checked it out. At first, I thought it was kind of cool, but then I realized that it was nothing more than a gigantic, worldwide chat room. Everyone talking, few people talking to a specific other person, some people even talking in languages other than English (imagine that!), few people saying anything of interest.

Twitter is a micro blogging tool. If you looked at 100 random blog posts from all over the blogoshere, how many of them do you think you’d like? This is the same. Look at 100 random tweets and you’re likely to find very few that are even worth the time it took to read them.

And they’re only up to 140 character long.

First Impressions

Miraz summed it up in a comment on yesterday’s “Reach Out and Meet Someone” post here:

I’m really interested by your previous post and comments here about Twitter. I’d noticed Twitter and found my first, and strong, reaction was Yuk!

The next time I looked was the other day when I thought I should include it in a book I’m writing for community groups. This time I looked and just felt old.

I see it as a monumental waste of time and a triviality, so I find your comments about feeling more connected to people particularly useful.

I felt exactly the same way. Yet people were talking about it and raving, in many cases. So I figured I was probably missing something and decided to give it a closer look.

You Need to Scrape Away the Bull

The main complaint about Twitter is: who really cares about what all these people are doing? What you had for breakfast isn’t very interesting. What you’re watching on TV isn’t interesting either. And why all the cryptic statements? Are you trying to be cool?

But if you could scrape away all the bull and concentrate on the content that may be of real interest to you, Twitter does have some value. I’ve gotten a glimpse of it. Not enough to convince me that it’s good, but enough to make me think that it might be.

Here’s what I did to reach this point. I recommend these steps to anyone who wants to give Twitter a real try.

Step 1: Create a Twitter Account

I’m not going to explain how to do this. You can go to Twitter and follow the instructions online to do it yourself.

I definitely recommend that you choose an appropriate image for your identity there. Something that gives people an idea of what you’re all about. For a while, mine was the same image I currently use for my Gravatar: my helicopter’s back end with hot air balloons in the background. Pretty but not very real. I’ve since switched it to my standard head shot, which I hope to get redone one of these days. Most Twitter users either use a photo or a cartoon for their images. My advice: don’t use established cartoon characters; one of these days, someone’s going to start suing.

While you’re in your account settings, be sure to create a one-line (they really mean about six-word) bio of yourself. It appears when someone goes to your Twitter page. Set your time zone, enter the full URL for your Web site or blog, and just provide the needed info. If you don’t want to be on the public timeline, there’s a box you can check. I wouldn’t check it unless you’re worried about stalkers or some other crazy thing. After all, there is a slight chance that you might impress someone reading the public timeline (whoever that might be) enough to make a new friend.

Step 2: Download and Install a Tweeting Tool

I cannot over emphasize the importance of this step. Sure, you can keep your Twitter home page open and refresh it once in a while to see what’s new. But there are better ways to get involved with Twitter.

For a while, I used a Dashboard widget to compose and send my tweets. This was convenient; press F12, fill in a form, press Return, and press F12 again to get back to work. This added my tweets to Twitter, but did not display the tweets of my friends.

TwitterificThen I discovered Twitterific. Frankly, I can’t imagine using Twitter without this little application. (Now calm down, folks. You can use the Comments link or form at the bottom of this post to tell me why your favorite Twitter tool is better.) It features a resizable window that captures and displays not only your tweets, but the tweets of all the Twitter users that you follow. There are a variety of notification options with and without sound. And, best of all, there’s a tiny form at the bottom of the window that you can use to enter your own tweets.

Twitterific has just one problem — and it doesn’t affect me at all: it requires Mac OS X 10.4 or later. Yes, it’s a Mac-only application. (I’m relying on the PC folks reading this to use the Comments link or form to tell us what they’re using. Let’s hope they don’t let us down.)

Twitter also works with instant messaging and I’m pretty sure you can use your IM client (iChat, MSN, AOL, etc.) to interact with Twitter. But since this article’s intention isn’t to explain all the different ways you can use Twitter, I’ll let you explore that option on your own.

And Twitter does work with text messaging on a cell phone. But if you enable and regularly use that feature, you really need to get a life.

Step 3: Find People to Follow

You don’t want to monitor the public timeline. Trust me: it’s a waste of time. You want to follow the tweets of a select group of people. People that you select.

There are a few ways you can find people to follow:

  • Ask your friends, family members, and work associates if they have Twitter accounts. If they don’t, use the Invite form on your Twitter account to invite them. Be sure to use the extra note field to explain what this is all about. You might want to point them to an article about Twitter (like this one?) or a favorable review. The people you invite should be people that spend a lot of time in front of a computer connected to the Internet, so tweeting will be easy and convenient for them.
  • Track down the Twitter accounts of famous people you want to follow. Believe it or not, Barack Obama has a Twitter account. (I don’t follow him.) So does Stephen Colbert. (I do follow him.) Now, obviously, these people have better things to do with their time than send tweets out into the blogosphere, so their tweets are likely composed by their staff and have some kind of marketing value. Obama’s is strictly campaign stuff. Colbert’s is a bunch of typical Colbert-style one-liners. These are just examples. I’m sure plenty of celebs have Twitter accounts, if you’re into the celeb thing.
  • Check the blogs you follow. Quite a few bloggers have Twitter accounts. If you like the blogger’s blog, then you might like his tweets. I found a number of interesting people to follow this way.

Make these people your “Friends” — that’s Twitter’s term for the people you follow. Doing that is easy; just go to their Twitter timeline and click an Add link under Actions.

If someone makes you a friend, he’ll be listed under your followers. It’s always nice to add them as friends, too. It might give you insight as to why they added you. And you can always “Leave” them if you decide you don’t like their tweets.

Which brings up the next point. Once in a while, you’ll discover that you really don’t like the tweets of one of your “friends.” (I really feel a need to put that in quotes since the people you follow might not be real friends.) Just go to your Twitter page, view your list of friends. and click a Leave link under his name/icon. I did this just the other day when I decided that one of my “friends” was getting a bit too political for my taste. (No, I don’t want to sign your online petition, thank you.) Click of a link and I don’t have to hear from him anymore.

Step 4: Post Tweets

Even if you have no followers, you should make it a habit to post tweets on a somewhat regular basis. I’m not saying you need to do it daily or hourly or weekly or every ten minutes. I’m saying you should do it at least occasionally, when you have something to say.

I tend to tweet when I sit down to start a project or finish one up. This morning, I tweeted about going down to feed my horses and about a new article posted on my site. When this article is finished and posted, I’ll tweet about it and provide a link.

Be particular about the content of your tweets. Try to limit yourself to tweets that people might actually be interested in. Okay, you had eggs for breakfast. But don’t tweet about it unless you fetched those eggs out of a henhouse and the rooster tried to kill you or you cooked them in a microwave, causing them to explode all over the inside and start a fire. Okay, so that’s an exaggeration. But you know what I mean. Something interesting.

You can make all your tweets self-promotional, but I assure you that you’ll have very few followers — unless, of course, you’re famous and people want to read about your latest book, movie, radio show, interview, podcast, etc. I admit that my tweeting about articles as they are released has an element of self-promotion to it, but I’d like to think that some people might want to check out some of what I’m writing about. After all, if you were using Twitter, wouldn’t you be slightly interested in an article about it?

Remember, Twitter limits you to 140 characters per tweet. Don’t feel as if you have to fill them. It automatically converts long URLs to short ones (using tinyurl), so don’t worry about URLs taking up all your characters. Just keep it short and sweet.

As for writing style, Grammar Girl wrote an excellent style guide for tweets, “Grammar Girl’s Strunk & Twite: An Unofficial Twitter Style Guide.” Read it and use it. Please.

The Twitter Virus

I first read the phrase Twitter virus yesterday. At first, I thought it was some kind of real computer virus. But apparently, it refers to a person’s active involvement in Twitter — in other words, tweeting the moments of your day all day every day.

A certain amount of Twitter virus is vital to using Twitter and attracting and keeping followers. But if you’ve got it too bad — like a certain person I follow who tweeted from his cell phone about being stuck in traffic waiting at a railroad crossing this morning — you probably want to take a step back and think hard about your involvement.

While a tool like Twitterific makes participating in Twitter extremely easy, don’t get carried away. The people who follow you don’t need (or probably want) every detail of your life.

Try It

Twitter is also a social networking tool. I participate because I find it interesting to see what other people do and think throughout their day. I leave the Twitterific window open — I have a 20″ monitor, so there’s enough real estate for it — and peek at it once in a while. And then I tweet when I have something to say. It’s pretty effortless and it certainly doesn’t take much out of my day.

Now you know what I do with Twitter and how you can make it a worthwhile experiment. Don’t be shy. Try it. It’s all free and, if you don’t catch the virus, you can quit it at any time.

Phoenix Sky Harbor to Grand Canyon

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I never thought a flight like this would become so routine.

The call came at 9:30 on Friday morning. The voice had a heavy Japanese accent. He wanted to go from Sky Harbor, Phoenix’s busy Class Bravo airport, to Sedona or the Grand Canyon.

“The earliest we can pick you up is 12:00,” I told him. “That’s a little late for the Grand Canyon.”

Flying M Air offers day trips to Sedona and Grand Canyon. The day trip includes roundtrip helicopter transportation following scenic routes, 4 to 5 hours on the ground, ground transportation to Uptown Sedona or into Grand Canyon National Park, and a Sedona red rocks helicopter tour. Grand Canyon is about 45 minutes farther away from Phoenix than Sedona. I’d need to leave either one by about 5:30 PM.

We agreed on a Sedona day trip. I took down his name and weight, his companion’s name and weight, and his credit card information. I’d charge the card before I flew down to get him and he’d sign the receipt when I saw him. Then I hung up and began the process of planning the flight and doing all the paperwork required by the FAA for charter operations. That includes checking weather, creating and filing flight plans, and calculating a weight and balance for each leg of the flight. I do all of it by computer, using Duats for weather and flight planning and my own R44 Manifest form, built with Excel, for the passenger manifest and weight and balance calculations.

By 10 AM, I was done with the paperwork. I changed into more professional clothes, debating whether I should wear a long sleeved or short sleeved shirt. Fortunately, I went with the long sleeved shirt. I packed some hiking shoes and a T-shirt into my day pack, along with my 12″ PowerBook, punched my passengers credit card info into my terminal, and stuck the resulting charge receipt in my shirt pocket. I was ready to go to the airport by 10:30.

At the airport, I did my preflight in the hangar before pulling the helicopter out onto the ramp for fuel. Both Sky Harbor and Sedona tend to have outrageous fuel prices, so I wanted to top off both tanks in Wickenburg. With only two passengers on board, each weighing less than me, weight would not be a problem. By 11:08, I was lifting off from Wickenburg Airport for my passenger pickup point.

Flying into Sky Harbor

These days, most of my big charters are out of the Phoenix area — usually Deer Valley or Scottsdale Airport. Every once in a while, however, I’ll get a charter out of Sky Harbor. Sky Harbor, which lies just southeast of downtown Phoenix, has three parallel runways, with a row of terminals between the north runway and the middle runway. The general aviation FBOs, Cutter and Swift, are on the southwest corner of the field, requiring me to cross arriving or departing airline traffic for my approach or departure.

Sky Harbor, like many towered airports, has a letter of agreement with helicopter pilots called Sharp Delta. Sharp Delta defines terminology and lays down rules for transponder codes and flight altitudes. It used to include instructions and diagrams for landing on the helipad on top of Terminal 3, but that helipad closed down when they began construction on the new tower. I never landed there. I don’t know if it’ll reopen any time soon, but I hope so. It’ll make things a lot easier for my passengers, who have to get transportation to or from Cutter (my FBO choice) to meet me. Cutter has a free shuttle to the terminals, but it adds a step of complexity for passengers who don’t have their own ground transportation.

At first, flying in and out of Sky Harbor was extremely stressful for me. Let’s face it: I fly in and out of Wickenburg, a non-towered airport. I could fly all day long and not have to talk to a tower or controller. The only time I talk to controllers is when I fly into one of the bigger airports in Class Delta, Charlie, or Bravo airspace. And among pilots, there’s this feeling that the controllers at the big airports full of commercial airliners simply don’t want to be bothered by little, general aviation aircraft. We feel a little like recreational baseball players asking the manager of a professional baseball team if we can join them for practice.

Of course, there’s no reason to feel this way. In this country, general aviation aircraft have just as much right to fly in and out of Class Bravo airports like Sky Harbor, O’Hare, LAX, or even JFK as the big jets do. But since those controllers are generally a bit busier than the ones at smaller towered airports, we need to know what we want and where we’re going before requesting entrance into the airspace, be brief and professional with our requests, and follow instructions exactly as they’re given.

The Sharp Delta agreement makes this easy for helicopter pilots flying in and out of Sky Harbor’s space. And, at this point, I’ve done it so many times that it really is routine.

I fly from Wickenburg down to the Metro Center Mall on I-17 and Dunlap. By that time, I’ve already listened to the ATIS recording for Sky Harbor and have dialed in the altimeter setting, which is vital for helicopter operations down there. I wait for a break in the radio action and key my mike: “Phoenix Tower, helicopter Six-Three-Zero-Mike-Lima at Metro Center, Sharp Delta, landing Cutter.”

Phoenix TAC

My usual route.

The tower usually comes back with something like, “Helicopter Six-Three-Zero-Mike-Lima, squawk 0400. Ident.” This means I should turn my transponder to code 0400 and push the Ident button. The Ident button makes my dot on the controller’s radar stand out among all the other dots so he can see exactly which dot I am.

“Zero-Mike-Lima identing,” I reply as I push the button. I don’t know if ident can be used as a verb, but other pilots do it, too.

I keep flying toward the airport, heading southeast toward Central Avenue, waiting for clearance. The controller might give an instruction or two to a big jet landing or taking off. Then he comes back on the radio. “Helicopter Zero-Mike-Lima, radar contact. Proceed via Sharp Delta. Remain west of Central.”

That’s my clearance. He must say either “proceed via Sharp Delta” or “cleared into the Class Bravo airspace” for me to enter the surface airspace for the airport. Because I’m a helicopter using Sharp Delta, I get the Sharp Delta clearance. An airplane or a helicopter not on Sharp Delta would get the other clearance.

I continue toward Central Avenue, the main north/south avenue running down Phoenix. Most of Phoenix’s tall buildings are lined up along this road. I need to stay west of Central and descend down to about 1800 feet MSL (mean sea level). That’s about 600 feet AGL (above ground level). When I’m lined up a block or two west of Central, I turn south and head toward the buildings.

If I have passengers on board, this is usually pretty exciting for them. I have to stay low because of other air traffic, so I’m not much higher than the building rooftops. These days, I have to watch out for cranes for the few buildings under construction downtown. But it gets better. By the time I cross McDowell, I have to be at 1600 feet MSL — that’s only 400 feet off the ground.

Somewhere halfway through Phoenix, the controller calls me again. “Helicopter Zero-Mike-Lima, contact tower on one-one-eight-point-seven.”

I acknowledge and press a button on my cyclic to change to the south tower frequency, which I’ve already put in my radio’s standby. “Phoenix tower, helicopter Zero-Mike-Lima is with you on one-one-eight-point-seven.”

“Helicopter Zero-Mike-Lima, proceed south across the river bottom for landing Cutter.”

I acknowledge. At this point, we’ve crossed the extended centerline for the airport’s north runway, which is less than 5 miles to the east. Commercial airliners are either taking off or landing over us, depending on the wind, which will determine runways in use. I’m always worried about wake turbulence, but it’s really not a problem because we’re so far below.

I cross the extended centerline for the other two runways and approach the bed of the Salt River. It’s usually pretty dry — dams upriver have trapped all the water in five lakes. I’m only about 300 to 400 feet off the ground here and need to keep an eye out for the power lines running along the river. Once across, I turn left and head in toward the airport. I make my approach to the west of Swift, follow the road that runs between the taxiway and the FBOs, and come in to Cutter. They’ve usually heard me on the radio and have a “Follow Me” car to guide me to parking. I follow the car in until it stops and a man jumps out. He uses hand signals that tell me to move up a bit more and then to set down.

That’s all there is to it.

Well, I should mention here that I’m seldom the only helicopter in the area. One of the medevac companies is based at Swift and has two or three helicopters going in and out of there. I also pass a few hospitals with rooftop helipads. And if there’s traffic or an accident or a fire or an arrest going on, there’s usually at least one or two news helicopters moving around. So although I don’t have to worry about other airplanes, the helicopter traffic can be pretty intense.

That’s how it went on Friday. I shut down the helicopter and hitched a ride in a golf cart to the terminal. My passengers were waiting for me: two Japanese men. My contact was probably in his 30s and his companion was possibly in his late 50s. After making sure they both spoke English, I gave them the passenger briefing.

“Can we go to the Grand Canyon instead?” my contact wanted to know. “We really want to see the Grand Canyon.”

I didn’t really want to fly to the Grand Canyon, but there was no reason I couldn’t. Changing the flight plan would be easy enough and I’d already checked the weather for the whole area. I warned him that we wouldn’t have much time on the ground and that we needed to leave by 5:30. I didn’t want to cross any mountains in the dark with passengers on board.

So I did what I needed to do and we departed for the Grand Canyon instead of Sedona.

To the Grand Canyon

I won’t bore you with the details of leaving Sky Harbor. It’s basically the same but backwards. South departure, west until I’m west of Central, then north low-level over the river bottom. They cut me loose when I’m clear to the north.

My two passengers enjoyed the flight through Phoenix, even though they were both seated on the side opposite the best views. (They’d get the good view on the way back.) They both had cameras and were using up pixels with still and video images. We crossed through the west side of Deer Valley’s airspace — with permission, of course — and headed north. I pointed out various things — the Ben Avery shooting range, Lake Pleasant in the distance, the Del Webb Anthem development, Black Canyon City. Once away from the outskirts of Phoenix, I pointed out open range cattle, ponds, roads, and mountains. We saw some wild horses grazing near some cattle in the high desert past Cordes Junction.

I took them along the east side of Mingus Mountain and showed them the ghost town of Jerome and its open pit copper mine. Sedona was to the east; I told them we’d pass over that on the way back. We climbed steadily, now on a straight line path to Grand Canyon airport, and reached an altitude of over 8,000 feet just east of Bill Williams Mountain. From there, it was a slow descent down to about 7,000 feet. Our path took us right over our place at Howard Mesa, which I pointed out for my passengers, and right over Valle. I called into Grand Canyon tower, and got clearance to land at the transient helipads.

At the Grand Canyon

Once inside the terminal, I asked my passengers if they wanted to go right into the park or take a helicopter overflight. I’m not allowed to fly over at a comfortable altitude, so if my passengers want to overfly, I set them up with Grand Canyon Helicopters or Maverick Helicopters. Both companies fly EC 130 helicopters — the Ecostar — which are much nicer than the old Bell Long Rangers I used to fly for Papillon. I prefer Maverick these days (for mostly personal reasons that I’d prefer not to go into here).

“What do you recommend?” my passenger asked.

“Well, if money is not a concern, I definitely recommend the helicopter flight,” I told him. And that was no lie. Everyone who can should experience a flight over the east side of the Grand Canyon. It’s the longer, more costly tour, but if you don’t mind spending the money, it’s worth every penny.

“Okay,” he said simply.

I didn’t have Maverick’s number on me, so called Grand Canyon Helicopter. A long tour was leaving in 20 minutes. I booked it for two passengers and we walked over to Grand Canyon Helicopter’s terminal.

The helicopter returned from the previous tour and they switched pilots. The woman pilot who climbed on board was the tiny Japanese woman who’d been flying for Grand Canyon Helicopters when I was a pilot a Papillon. I told my passengers what her name was and that they should greet her in Japanese.

Grand Canyon HelicoptersThen they got their safety briefing and were loaded aboard. I took a photo of them taking off. Then I hiked over to Maverick to meet the Chief Pilot there. I had 45 minutes to kill and planned to make the most of it.

I was back at Grand Canyon Helicopters when my passengers’ flight landed. They were all smiles as they got out. I called for transportation into the park and was told it would be 20 minutes. As we waited, the Japanese pilot came into the terminal and spent some time chatting with us. She’s 115 pounds of skilled and experienced turbine helicopter pilot — a dream come true for any helicopter operator. This is her fifth year at the Canyon. They call her their “secret weapon.” When the van pulled up, she bowed politely to my passengers, saying something to them in Japanese. I think they really liked getting a reminder of home so far away.

We took the van into the park and were let off at El Tovar. It was 3:20 PM. I told my passengers to meet me back there at 5 PM. It wasn’t nearly as much time as I like my passengers to have, but our late start had really limited our time. I left them to wander the historic buildings and rim trail on their own and went to find myself something to eat. I hadn’t eaten a thing all day and was starved.

What’s weird about this particular trip to the Canyon is that I don’t think I spent more than 5 minutes looking into the canyon from the Rim. I didn’t take a single picture. This is why the word routine comes to mind. It’s almost as if the Grand Canyon had ceased being a special place. A visit like this was routine. It was something I’d do again and again. If I didn’t spend much time taking in the view this trip, I could do it on my next trip. I think that’s what was going on in the back of my mind.

The time went by quickly. I had lunch, browsed around Hopi House, and took a seat on El Tovar’s porch to wait for my passengers. I was lucky that it was a nice day — I didn’t have a jacket. Several people told me it had snowed the day before and there had been snow on the ground just that morning. But by the time we got there, all the snow was gone and it was a very pleasant day. Not even very windy, which is unusual for the spring. But as the sun descended, it got cool out on the porch. I was glad when my passengers showed up just on time.

I called for the van and was told it would take 20 minutes. That’s the big drawback to taking people to the Canyon — ground transportation. I’d rent a car if there was a car there to rent. But there isn’t, so we’re at the mercy of the Grand Canyon Transportation desk. The fare isn’t bad — $5 per person, kids under 12 free — but the service is painfully slow, especially during the off season. It’s about a 15-minute drive from Grand Canyon Village to the Airport in Tusayan, but between the wait and the slow drivers, it stretches out to 30 to 45 minutes. That’s time taken away from my passengers’ day at the canyon.

Back to Sky Harbor via Sedona

We were in the helicopter and ready to leave the Grand Canyon Airport at 5:45 PM. At that time of day, the airport was dead. Tour operators have a curfew and cannot fly over the canyon past 5 PM this time of year; that changes to 6 PM in May. So there wasn’t anyone around. Fortunately, the terminal was still unlocked with people working at the Grand Canyon Airlines desk when we arrived so we had access to the ramp.

I’d put in a fuel order before we left earlier, so both tanks were topped off. We warmed up and I took off to the south. I set the GPS with a Sedona GoTo and the direct path took us southeast, past Red Butte, east of Howard Mesa. We saw a huge herd of antelope — at least 50 to 100 of them! — in an open meadow about 10 miles north of I-40. It was the same meadow I’d seen antelope before.

We climbed with the gently rising terrain. The forest ended abruptly and I followed a canyon east and then south, descending at 1000 feet per minute into the Sedona area. The low-lying sun cast a beautiful reddish light on Sedona’s already red rocks. The view was breathtaking. My passengers captured it all with their cameras.

We flew through Oak Creek Village, then turned toward I-17. I started to climb. There was one more mountain range I needed to cross. Although a direct to Sky Harbor would have put us on a course far from I-17, I prefer flying a bit closer to civilization, especially late in the day.

At one point, I looked down and saw a single antelope running beneath us, obviously frightened by the sound of the helicopter above him.

We watched the sun set behind the Bradshaw Mountains as we came up on Black Canyon City. There was still plenty of light as we came up on Deer Valley Airport. I transitioned through the west end of their airspace and continued on.

Sky Harbor was considerably busier when I tuned in and made my call. But my approach was the same as usual. My passengers took more pictures and video as we passed downtown Phoenix just over rooftop level, then crossed the departure end of the runways and made our approach to Cutter. It was just after 7 PM when we touched down.

We said our goodbyes in Cutter’s terminal, where I got my passenger’s mailing address in Japan so I could send him a receipt for the additional amount I’d have to charge him for the longer flight. They called a cab for their hotel and I paid the landing and ramp fee Cutter sometimes charges me. (I don’t mind paying the $17 fee because my passengers nearly always use their free shuttle and I rarely take on any fuel.) Then I hurried out to the ramp for the last leg of my flight, back to Wickenburg.

Flying Home

It was dark by the time I was ready to leave Sky Harbor. This was the first time I’d depart Sky Harbor at night. Of course, just because the sky was dark doesn’t mean the ground was dark. It was very bright, well lighted by all kinds of colored lights.

I launched to the south just seconds before a medivac launched from Swift. We were both told to squawk 0400 and Ident. I never caught sight of the helicopter behind me, but he had me in sight. Together, we flew west to Central. Then he headed up Central Avenue and I headed direct to Wickenburg. The north tower cut us both loose together as we exited their space.

The flight to Wickenburg was easy. I simply followed the bright white line drawn on the ground for me by traffic heading southeast on Grand Avenue. The road goes from Phoenix to Wickenburg and is the most direct route. At night, it’s lit up by traffic and very easy to follow. When I got closer to Wickenburg, the red taillights heading to Las Vegas far outnumbered the white headlights heading toward Phoenix. After all, it was Friday night.

I set down at the airport in Wickenburg and gave the helicopter a nice, long cool down. I’d flown 4.1 hours that day and was glad to be home.