Tag Archives: river

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.

Rain on the Parade

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It looks like Gold Rush Days will be washed out (again).

From the national weather service:

THE FLASH FLOOD WATCH WILL BE IN EFFECT FOR MARICOPA… SOUTHERN GILA… NORTHERN PINAL… YUMA AND LA PAZ COUNTIES IN ARIZONA FROM 5 AM MST TODAY THROUGH 5 AM SATURDAY. CITIES… TOWNS… AND LOCATIONS IN THE WATCH INCLUDE THE GREATER PHOENIX METROPOLITAN AREA… WICKENBURG… SALT RIVER RECREATIONAL LAKES… GLOBE… MIAMI… YUMA… PARKER… QUARTZSITE… WENDEN… GILA BEND… AND CASA GRANDE.

(Okay, so I made Wickenburg bold. We wouldn’t get that much attention from the NWS.)

Of course, the weather forecast calls for rain all day Saturday, too.

The town seems to have terrible luck when it comes to Gold Rush Days. More often than not, the weather is foul — either rainy or cold. I don’t remember last year being bad, but then again, I didn’t join in on the Gold Rush Days activities last year. (Many locals don’t.)

The good thing about the rain is that we need it. Arizona always needs rain. Even when there are flash flood warnings, we need rain. There just isn’t enough water in Arizona and, with the explosive growth of the southwest, there never will be. Every time we get a weather report that suggests an inch or more of rain — like we have today — I’m thrilled. It adds more time to the clock. I’m talking, of course, about the clock that’s ticking down the hours until Arizona doesn’t have enough water for its people and golf courses.

Another good thing — for Wickenburg — is that the river will keep flowing. It’s been at it for about two months now and I’m enjoying every minute of it. I usually see it from the air as I do tours in my helicopter. The other day, I took a couple up to photograph their land alongside the Hassayampa. After about 10 minutes of circling at 500 feet, we headed up river. Not only is the desert beautifully green, but many of the side canyons were still flowing with tiny streams of water. And it hadn’t rained in days! I can’t wait to fly again on Sunday to see what this storm does to the canyons.

Public Opinion

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I realize that public opinion doesn’t really matter.

I run a Web site called wickenburg-az.com. Its primary purpose is to provide information about Wickenburg, including things to do and see and businesses that operate here in town. I built the Web site because there was no non-commercial Web site about the town. Basically, if you wanted your business on the Web, you had to cough up big bucks to get it on one of the commercial sites in town — sites that weren’t even updated on a regular basis. I didn’t think that was fair. I also didn’t think any of those sites provided useful information for residents or visitors.

Over the years, the site has become quite a forum for voicing opinions about the way things are going here in town. I admit that I started it. Then John started adding his two cents and since what he submitted was well-written and well-reasoned out, I couldn’t help but publish it online. Along the way, a handful of other people submitted articles and I published them. I felt that these opinion pieces helped round out the site.

Recently, I’ve gotten quite a few opinion pieces from people I’ve never heard from before. I’ve been publishing most of them. Others are a bit over the top, even for me. What amazes me, however, is how many people have written to say they agree with much of what appears on the site — even though these opinions aren’t what’s reflected in the local newspaper or among local politicians.

In other words, the town’s government is pushing one way on many issues and the newspaper is rubber-stamping their decisions. In the meantime, many people don’t agree with or even like what’s going on.

This has me a bit baffled. My understanding is that in a democracy, when the people vote, they are choosing the elected officials that stand the same way they do on most issues. When they vote on a proposition, they’re telling their elected officials that they either want it to pass or they don’t. It seems to make sense that the elected officials would do the things that their constituents expect them to, based on popular opinion. It also seems to make sense that if a proposition fails, it would simply fade away into obscurity — not be put up for another vote when a different collection of people were around to vote on it.

Sadly, that’s not the way democracy works in Wickenburg. Majority public opinion seems to have little or no bearing on what actually happens in town. Elected officials do whatever they want to, for whatever reasons strike their fancy. I still haven’t decided if they’re motivated by greed — money under the table and other reward promises — or stupidity — being led around by the nose by smooth-talking developers.

The bypass issue is a perfect example. This has been going on for years. The route 93 and 60 corridor has become a major thoroughfare for traffic between Phoenix and Las Vegas and will be part of the Canamex highway that will link NAFTA members Canada and Mexico. As a result, there is a huge amount of truck traffic going right through town.

ADOT brought consultants into town on a regular basis to meet with the public and gain their opinions on the dozen or so options. The public clearly favored an out-of-town bypass that would keep all those trucks south and west of town. Yet the local government and chamber of commerce favored a route that would put the traffic right through town. (I guess it was important to them for McDonald’s and Circle-K to keep selling burgers, coffee, and gas to the drive-through crowd.)

As a result, the “interim bypass” was developed. This monstrosity would put four lanes of traffic along the riverbed near the existing bridge — it isn’t clear yet whether they’ll build another bridge, too — and route that traffic right past the Community Center and Coffinger Park, through a neighborhood and a ranch (thus displacing dozens of people and destroying the values of the remaining homes), and deposit it back on 93 right where a local developer is attempting to build a high-priced housing development. (It will be interesting to see how many people will pay $800K+ for a house overlooking 4 lanes of truck traffic.) Along the way, this crazy plan calls for two “roundabouts” — the old-style traffic circles that are being dismantled throughout the east — so that our “winter visitors” (most of whom are in the 65+ age bracket) can merge with the trucks on their way to and from Wal-Mart in Surprise. (It might be a good idea to move the ambulance base to that intersection, since that’s where it’ll be spending a lot of time.)

All this is completely against the majority public opinion. People who live in Wickenburg year-round care about the town and its atmosphere. We don’t want highways in the riverbed where exhaust fumes will settle and noise will destroy the quality of life and whatever downtown ambiance we still have.

We also don’t want high-density housing, especially when there aren’t enough high-paying jobs to fill those homes with year-round residents. We don’t want an economy that centers around winter visitors who don’t even like to spend their money in town. We don’t want two Dollar Stores or two check cashing places or a pawn shop. We want businesses that will provide good jobs and the goods and services we need.

But in Wickenburg, public opinion doesn’t matter.

A Birthday Flight

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I take a 90-year-old woman, her 88-year-old brother, and her son on a helicopter tour.

I’ve been getting a lot of calls lately from people in Scottsdale, interested in helicopter tours. There’s a charter company down there named Westcor Aviation (associated with the Westcor malls and other real estate ventures) and my very first flight instructor, Paul, works for them as a pilot. They occasionally get calls from people who want to charter a helicopter and get “sticker shock” when they hear the rate: $1,500 per hour. So when asked to recommend other operators in the area, Westcor has begun recommending me, along with the others.

Doing flights out of Scottsdale isn’t exactly good for me. I ask $495 per hour for flights originating in the valley, with a one-hour minimum. But I don’t charge people for the amount of time it takes me to get from Wickenburg to the valley and back again. So I don’t really make much money on these flights. But they’re good experience and they do help pay for the helicopter. And they give me an excuse to fly.

I did one of these flights on Sunday. I’d gotten a call during the week and made arrangements with someone named Brad to fly his grandmother on a tour of the area for her 90th birthday. He’d fill the other two seats, too, and he’d make sure the total weight was below 650 for the three passengers. I just had to meet him at Scottsdale Airport at 10:00 AM.

This worked out well for Mike and I. Mike had gotten Greyhawk Members Club tickets to see the FBR US Open in Scottsdale, which wasn’t far from the airport. The tickets got us entrance to the event as well as entrance to hospitality tents scattered around the course. We could eat and watch the golfing from comfortable, shaded seats — all for free. We figured we’d head over to the course when my flight was finished.

We arrived at Scottsdale Airport about 40 minutes early and got a great parking spot right out in front of the terminal. We went into the restaurant for some weak coffee and a bite to eat and I spent some time reviewing the Phoenix Terminal Area Chart to see where I could take them. At 9:50, I headed out to the lobby to wait for my passengers. There were three young people there and one of them approached me. It was Brad.

I looked at him and his two companions. “I thought you said it was for your grandmother.”

“She’s on her way,” he said.

I tried to review the route I’d planned with him, hoping it would meet his approval. He didn’t seem to care. “She wants to see the Superstition Mountains,” he said.

I wanted to take her up the Salt River, which would take us near the Superstitions but not over them. I didn’t want to fly over or around the Superstitions. It’s rocky, dangerous terrain and I didn’t think it would make for an interesting or comfortable one-hour flight, given the wind conditions and the descending clouds out that way.

“She doesn’t know she’s doing this,” he added.

A while later, his grandmother arrived. With about twenty other people. She was a petite 90-year-old woman. They escorted her up to the window where she could see Zero-Mike-Lima parked on the ramp. “That’s your birthday present,” someone told her.

She was thrilled. They quickly sorted out who would be flying with her: her brother, who I can accurately describe as a little old man, and her son, who was considerably larger. I don’t think their total weight even reached 500 pounds. I escorted them outside to the security door and told them that only one person could accompany us through the gate to take photos. Out at the helicopter, I gave them the safety briefing. I put the birthday girl in the front, her brother behind her, and her son behind me. As I warmed up Zero-Mike-Lima, my passenger’s entourage watched from behind the glass partition.

We departed to the southwest to remain west of Runway 21. Although the controller told me he’d call my turn to the east, he was so busy with other traffic that I was clear of his airspace before he had a chance to. I passed north of Camelback, then headed east toward the Salt River. I skirted the north edge of Falcon Field’s airspace, then continued up the Salt River Canyon.

The desert was absolutely beautiful. I’d never seen it so green. And all the lakes we flew over — Saguaro, Canyon, Apache — were completely filled with water. The sunlight through the low clouds made a patchwork of shade over the entire scene, illuminating some hillsides and rock formations and shadowing others. The Superstitions were clearly visible, just below the clouds, to the south of us, so my passengers got to see what they wanted to, and so much more.

About 0.6 hours out, I made the turn to come back, using my GPS to give me a more direct route. The goal was to make the flight exactly 1.0 hours. Soon we were heading toward Fountain Hills. I looked at the clock on my instrument panel. It was nearly 11 AM. Is it possible that I’d overfly Fountain Hills just as they turned on the fountain? It was. We were still about three miles out when the water started to rise. It was an added bonus for my passengers to see it from the air.

We approached Scottsdale Airport from the west. Fortunately, the controller wasn’t nearly as busy as he’d been when we left and we had no trouble approaching the airport, crossing the runway, and landing right where we’d begun.

My passengers were very pleased with the flight. I was too.

And when the woman’s daughter handed me a check, a little voice in the back of my head reminded me, “And they pay you to do great stuff like this, too.”