An Overnight Hiking Escape, Part II: Flagstaff

The second day of my overnight getaway.

As I blogged earlier in the week, on Sunday I went hiking with a Meetup group in Sedona, AZ. But rather than go home afterward, I decided to spend the night in Flagstaff and do some more hiking among the aspens the next day.

You see, one of my Facebook friends, who is also an aerial photography client, Rebecca Wilks of Skyline Images, posted an update about the fall colors in the Flagstaff area. For those of you unfamiliar with Flagstaff, it sits at about 7,000 feet elevation and has many groves of aspen trees. In September and October, the leaves turn yellow. The result is beauty.

I read her update and was bummed out. This would likely be my last autumn in Arizona and I’d miss the aspens changing. I might never get another opportunity to see them.

But then I thought about it and realized there was no reason to miss them. After all, it isn’t as if I’m working. I’m just hanging out at home, packing at my own pace, waiting for divorce stuff to happen around me. I’d just tack on a day in Flagstaff after my day in Sedona.

Plan made, I called around and found a hotel that accepts pets, the Drury Inn. Not my first choice, but no real complaints. I booked a room and, on Sunday afternoon, I began the short drive up Oak Creek Canyon from Sedona to Flagstaff.

Although it was early enough to do a short hike when I arrived in Flag, I was exhausted, sticky, and stinky from my hot hike in Sedona with the group. I elected to take a nice hot shower, try some of the “happy hour” food they offered at the hotel, and just take it easy. Penny the Tiny Dog didn’t seem to mind. I’d brought along her bed and since she was just as tired as I was, we both relaxed. I had two bloody marys in the lobby and nibbled on some soup and some macaroni and cheese for dinner. By nine, I was asleep.

We got an early start in the morning. The plan was to visit two locations: Lockett Meadow and the Inner Basin Trail on the east side of the San Francisco Peaks and the Kachina Trail near the Snowbowl. After a quick free breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, Penny and I were packed and ready to go by 7 AM.

Lockett Meadow

Locket Meadow MapThe road to Lockett Meadow is not paved. I was driving my Honda S2000, which probably has about 6 inches of clearance on the bottom. (At least it seems that way.) I was a little concerned when I saw the sign that said “Road Not Maintained for Passenger Vehicles,” but when you consider that the road to my house is not maintained at all and is currently in deplorable condition and I drive it every day with the Honda, I was willing to give it a try.

It turned out to be in excellent condition. It climbed up the side of a mountain with no guardrails to stop a skidding car from plunging over the cliff — typical Arizona back road. In the distance I could see Sunset Crater and the Painted Desert beyond it. I kept climbing, reaching an elevation (eventually) of over 8,000 feet.

My HondaLockett Meadow Campground was at the end of the road. So were the aspen groves. I stopped and snapped a few photos, including this shot of my car parked alongside the road.

I drove through the campground. It was about half occupied. I thought about what a great place it would be to stay for a week or two in the mobile mansion. And then I thought about how unlikely that was to happen.

Inner Basin TrailheadIn the back of the campground was the trailhead for the Inner Basin trail. I parked the car among the SUVs in the small lot and got out with Penny to take a look. The trail looked dark and wound into the forest. It didn’t look very inviting. Although Penny was ready to go, it didn’t look like the kind of hike I wanted to take early in the morning. I was more interested in photographing the aspens; there were plenty of subjects back out in the meadow.

But there was one thing at the trailhead I want to share, especially since the first line was so appropriate to my situation. It’s a passage from the Navajo Blessingway:

Today I will walk out; useless burden will leave me.

I will be as I was before; a cool breeze will wash me.
I will have a light body; I will be happy.
Nothing will hinder me.

I walk with beauty before me. I walk with beauty behind me.
I walk with beauty below me. I walk with beauty above me.
I walk with beauty around me.

After thinking about that for a moment, we returned to the car and drove back out to the meadow. I took a few shots and was generally happy with what I got. But as I was driving away from the place, I caught sight of a small pond with a perfectly smooth surface. My brain shouted: reflections!

Aspen ReflectionsI love including reflections in my photographs. This location did not disappoint me. I was able to make a number of photographs that really showed off the view with perfect reflections.

More Aspen ReflectionsI got back into the car again, now ready to leave. But again, as I was driving off, I caught sight of another place where still water was surrounded by trees. Leaving Penny in the car, I went to investigate and made a few more reflection photos. It was really much more than I had hoped for.

We retraced our route back down the mountain. It dumped us onto Shultz Pass Road. I checked my map. The road, which was unpaved, would take us along the base of the mountain back toward Flagstaff. In my typical explorer fashion, I decided to give it a try.

I didn’t get very far. At the first place where water had crossed the road, large rocks lay in the roadway. I thought I had enough clearance to get over them, but I soon heard (and felt) rocks under the floorboard. Not good. I stopped to take a peek underneath. Sure enough, there were a bunch of rocks beneath the car that I simply would not clear. Recalling how my soon-to-be ex-husband had punctured the oilcan on his Honda years ago, I decided to clear the rocks out from under the car, back up, turn around, and go back the way I’d come.

Fortunately, all this happened about 50 yards from a forest service guy who was parked with his truck in a clearing. When it became clear that I would not be able to reach the rocks without lying in the dirt, he offered me a shovel. I used the handle to pull the rocks out. Then I got in, backed up carefully, and returned the shovel. He probably thought I was nuts for trying the road in the first place. And he was probably right.

Return to Flagstaff

I drove back to Flagstaff on Route 89, which turns into Route 66, and took the turn for Route 180. I was less than 10 miles from the Snowbowl.

Unfortunately, along the way I had begun thinking of a friend of mine — or someone I thought was a friend of mine — who worked in Flagstaff. My last contact with her had been an email message telling her about my marital woes and warning her that the same thing could happen to her. I never got a response. I wondered what she thought of me and wanted very badly to see her and explain.

That was gnawing at me as I drove through Flag. I didn’t know where she worked or even if she was working that day. But I could find out. I could try to see her. I could try to explain.

But I kept driving.

I was about 3 miles short of the Snowbowl turn when my phone rang. It was my friend, Rod. I pulled into a trailhead parking lot and stopped in the shade to talk. And that’s when I fell apart.

You see, I was still hurting badly about my divorce and the way it all went down. My husband’s betrayal was like an open wound. Thinking about this friend in Flagstaff, who is married to my husband’s old roommate, had only made matters worse. When Rod called to check in with me, I broke down crying.

We had a long talk. I cried a lot. He gave me a good pep talk. He told me what everyone else had been telling me for months: that my husband was an idiot and a bum (and other things) and I was so much better off without him. I wasn’t convinced. Not yet. That would come later in the week.

But Rod did convince me that my Flagstaff friend wasn’t a real friend at all. If she was, he argued, she would have called me. No friend would simply ignore me when I was in such obvious emotional distress.

Rod is definitely a real friend.

While I talked, I let Penny out of the car. She wandered off into the woods. I kept an eye on her. There was something on the ground that she found very interesting. I walked over to check it out. It was a skunk skeleton. Skunk skeletons smell just like skunks. So did Penny.

The Kachina Trail

Kachina TrailWhen Rod and I finished talking, I felt better. Penny and I got back into the car and continued to the Snowbowl. We followed the winding road all the way up to the entrance to the ski area. Just to the right was the parking area for the trailhead.

The Kachina Trail is part of the Arizona Trail, a trail system that stretches north/south through Arizona. This was news to me. The only part of the Arizona Trail I’d ever hiked was at the Grand Canyon.

I chatted with some Canadians in the parking lot while I prepped for the hike. Like me, they were here to see the fall colors. Penny and I left them putting on their hiking shoes and hit the trail.

Kachina Trail TrailheadLike the other trail, the Kachina trail led into the woods. But whether it was the time of day — after 10 AM — or just the kind of trail, it seemed a lot brighter and more inviting. But what really surprised me was the elevation — the GPS in my phone reported nearly 9,300 feet. Whoa.

The trail wound into the woods, paralleling the road I’d driven up, which was just out of sight beyond the trees. I could hear vehicles driving up and down, including trucks and loud motorcycles. Not the kind of experience I wanted. But then the trail curved away from the road and it got quiet, with just the sound of the wind in the trees and the birds. The leaves on scattered aspen trees fluttered with a sound like falling water.

On the Kachina TrailThe trail was relatively narrow and wound up and down through the forest, between trees and around large rocks. Penny, on her leash, led the way, stopping occasionally to sniff at something. We met a young family with children walking the other way. I kept up a good pace without getting winded, despite the elevation, and was glad again for the health benefits of my recent weight loss.

I didn’t take many photos. Truth is, I was disappointed. The aspens weren’t anywhere near peak along the trail — perhaps because it wound along the south-facing side of the mountain. Although the trail was pleasant enough, it didn’t offer what I was there for. So after hiking about a mile (per my GPS), I decided to turn back.

I met the Canadians on my way back. I told them that the trail was nice, but I was there mostly for photography and wanted more aspens. We chatted briefly again, then went our separate ways.

Aspen Corner

At Aspen CornerOn the way up to the Kachina Trail, I’d passed a place called Aspen Corner. There was a parking area there with paths through an aspen grove. Those trees were at near peak color. I decided to wander around there for a while.

This is what I was here for. Bright yellow leaves against a deep blue sky. (Yes, clouds would have made the photos more interesting, but this is Arizona.) The cool darkness of the forest offered a magnificent contrast to the sun-splashed leaves and white bark.

Self-Portrait in AspensPenny and I wandered around for a while. I asked another photographer to take a photo of usy, but the exposure was so bad you can barely see us. I also tried a self-portrait using the camera’s timer and did a little better — although I’m squinting into the sun so badly that I don’t really look very appealing. Oh, and do you know how difficult it is to prop up a DSLR vertically on a log?

We wandered around for a while and I took a bunch of photos. By then, it was after noon. I was expecting a phone call at 1 PM and needed to be somewhere with a good cell signal. I also wanted to wash the Lockett Meadow dust off my car before I drove home. So we headed back to the car and started the drive back to Flagstaff.

Heading Home

A while later, with gas tank filled, car washed, and a fresh bottle of water for sipping, Penny and I headed back to Wickenburg. I took my phone call along the way, at an exit off I-40 between Flag and Williams. The drive back was nearly 3 hours long on what I consider the fastest route: I-40 to 89 to Iron Springs Road through Skull Valley, Kirkland Junction, and Yarnell.

It was an emotional drive for me. Along the way, I did a lot of thinking…and crying. I just have to work all my woes out of my system. It’s part of the healing process and I know it will take a long time.

The first thing I did when I got home was to give Penny the Skunky Dog a bath.

An Overnight Hiking Escape, Part I: Sedona

Sometimes, it’s just good to get away.

On Sunday, I joined the Phoenix Atheist Meetup Group for another one of their excellent hikes. This one was in Sedona, at the Soldier Pass Trail.

Sedona is not exactly next door to Wickenburg. It’s a good 2-1/4 hour drive if you drive hard on the scenic route that goes through Yarnell, Wilhoit, Prescott,Jerome, and Cottonwood. It had been a long time since my last mountain road drive with my Honda S2000 — in fact it might even have been way back in December when my soon-to-be ex-husband and I drove to Palm Springs for some kind of work-related event he had to attend. I definitely don’t drive that car enough. This hike was a good excuse to take it out on the twisty mountain roads.

(Of course, if the helicopter was in town, I would have just flown up there. From Wickenburg, it’s not even an hour flight. But that was not an option on Sunday.)

I left right around 6:30 AM to meet the group at the trailhead at 9:15 AM. It was just Penny the Tiny Dog and me, top down, speeding through the still-cool desert air. It was a typical cloudless day, and I suspected it would get pretty hot back in Wickenburg — definitely into the 90s. Another excuse to get the hell out of town.

Highway 89 Through MountainsI can’t really express the joy I feel driving a tight-steering sports car with plenty of performance at high speed on otherwise empty mountain roads. Two weeks ago Sunday was the first time I’d driven my car since leaving Arizona in early May. A few trips to Phoenix helped reacquaint me to its feel. But this Sunday, as I sped toward Sedona, we were fully reacquainted. I especially enjoyed the stretch of Highway 89 in the Prescott National Forest between Wilhoit and Prescott. The stretch of Highway 89A between The Yavapai Country Fairgrounds and Jerome would have been even better if I weren’t stuck behind a slow Prius for most of the trip.

We arrived in Sedona at about 8:45 AM — early enough for me to take Penny for a walk, get a second cup of coffee, and buy another bottle of water. Well, I thought it was enough time. Apparently, Heart of Sedona Coffee has the world’s slowest barrista. I ordered my coffee, paid, found and used the rest room, came back to retrieve my coffee, and still had to wait 10 minutes for him to finish making it. I wouldn’t mind, but there had been only one person ahead of me when I ordered. WTF? We rushed back to the car and made the short drive to the trailhead, arriving five minutes late and getting the last parking space.

The group was assembling and I wasn’t ready. I was still wearing jeans; it would be hot enough to wear shorts. If I’d been thinking clearly, I would have gotten changed at the coffee shop restroom. Instead, I hid behind a holly bush and got changed there. There comes a point in your life where you really don’t care who sees that you’re wearing panties with little pink flowers on them.

After a group photo and intros, we hit the trail. There were about 10 of us and one other person, Scott, had brought along his two small dogs. It wasn’t long before he let them off leash, so I decided to give Penny a try. She was great, either sticking with the other dogs or other hikers in our group. I didn’t have to worry about her at all. And Scott took really great care of his dogs and Penny, giving them frequent opportunities to drink and nibble on dog kibbles. (I wound up paying for his lunch later on to thank him.)

Soldiers Pass TrailThe Soldier Pass Trail is an easy-to moderate trail that starts at the edge of a subdivision and climbs into the red rocks north of Sedona. It has several interesting features: a sinkhole, several small pools of water, petroglyphs (rock art), and arches. A Jeep trail runs for a short distance in the area, making it possible to access the sinkhole and pools by high clearance vehicle. We stayed off the Jeep road and stuck to the trail.

The trail meandered through red rock and sandy terrain, starting out with just enough shade to keep you cool when you stopped for rests. This group is not a power-hiking group — we each hike at our own pace and can usually find enough other people at that pace to make small subgroups. Occasionally, most of us would wind up together in a shady spot for a rest or to take photos — for example, at the sink hole and later at the pools.

Coffee Pot Rock
A shot of coffee pot rock from the edge of the sinkhole.

The Sphinx

I’m pretty sure this rock formation is called the Sphinx; the sinkhole is in the foreground.

The trail climbed slowly but steadily — never enough to get me really winded. But the temperature was climbing steadily, too, and I’m still not accustomed to Arizona’s insane heat. I was sweating like a pig, so glad I’d changed into that pair of shorts. After a while, the taller vegetation thinned out and the trail was mostly in full sun. At around the same time, it started to get steeper, climbing up toward Brins Mesa. Fortunately, it also started to cloud up and that gave us some relief from the sun. A nice breeze also felt good against my sweaty skin when we paused in scant shade.

Rest Stop at Top of Trail

We stopped in the shade of this tree for about 20 minutes before heading back down the way we’d come.

We never saw the petroglyphs, but we did see the arches from a distance. I recall thinking that it wasn’t worth climbing up to them, but later, when we stopped about 2 miles up the trail, we were already higher than they were. There was a great resting place just short of the Brins Mesa trail, with a tree providing plenty of shade for six or seven of us to take a break. The view back toward town confirmed the fact that we’d climbed about 450 feet in elevation.

One of us, Prescott Jim, decided to go back along the Brins Mesa trail. That would add at least a mile to his return trip. Although I like doing loop trails, it was pretty obvious that the Brins Mesa trail would be almost entirely in full sun. I’d already sweat off a quart of water and wasn’t interested in losing two more the same way. We went alone and still managed to beat all of us back to the trailhead.

Going down was quicker and easier. We made fewer stops. I ran out of water and Scott very kindly gave me a bottle that he’d somehow managed to keep cold.

At the end of the trail, we gathered, rested, and had cold pop or beer. Then we hustled back into the cars and headed out to the Olde Sedona Grill. Although we had to carry the dogs through the restaurant, they were able to join us on the outdoor patio. All three of them were exhausted; Penny went right to sleep beside my chair and the poor waiter almost stepped on her three times while serving.

After settling up the bills, we went our separate ways. While everyone else headed back to Phoenix or Prescott, Penny and I hopped back onto Route 89A for a nice drive up Oak Creek Canyon. We’d be spending the night in Flagstaff for another day of hiking on Monday.

(Continued in Part II)

Early Morning Helicopter Flight: Wenatchee, WA to Hillsboro, OR

There are some things you really wish you could share.

The panic started on Friday. That’s when I checked my helicopter’s log books and realized that instead of 14 flight hours until a required 100-hour maintenance, I had under 5 hours. Once that 5 hours expired, if I flew for hire — even for cherry drying flights conducted under FAR Part 91 — I risked the possibility of having my Part 135 certificate put on hold (or worse) and losing insurance coverage for my helicopter due to my failure to follow the manufacturer’s maintenance schedule.

I did not want that to happen.

I started working the phones. First, I asked my mechanic to come up from Phoenix. I got a “maybe,” which really wasn’t good enough. I talked to a number of other operators about using their mechanics but kept running into a problem with the required drug testing program. Finally, I called the folks at Hillsboro Aviation — which happens to be the dealer that sold me my helicopter back in 2005 — and talked to John. He said that if I could get it in to him when they opened at 8 AM on Tuesday morning, there was a chance that they could have it ready by day’s end.

The weather, of course, was of vital importance. I was in Wenatchee for cherry drying season; if there was any possibility of rain, I could not leave. I did have two other pilots on duty to cover my contracts, though, so unless it rained everywhere at once, they could handle it. And fortunately, the forecast had 0% chance of rain for the upcoming week.

I packed a light bag on Monday night: some spare clothes and toiletries (in case an overnight stay was required), dog food and a dish for Penny the Tiny Dog, and my log books. And on Tuesday morning, at 5:30 AM, I preflighted, packed up the helicopter, set up the GoPro Hero 2 “nosecam,” secured Penny in the front passenger seat so she couldn’t get into the controls, started up, and took off.

Foreflight Route
My direct route, on Foreflight.

My goal was to complete the flight as quickly as possible — that meant a direct route across the Cascade Mountains. My flight path would take me over Mission Ridge, across I-90 west of Ellensburg, and into the Cascades south of Mt. Rainier and north of Mt. Adams. Along the way I’d have to climb to just over 7,000 feet, fly over miles of remote wilderness area, and pass right by Mt. St. Helens. The whole flight was 159 nautical miles (183 statute miles) and would take just over 90 minutes.

I’d flown over the Cascades — or tried to — about a dozen times in the past five years. Weather had almost always been an issue. On several occasions, low clouds in the mountain passes at I-90, Route 2, or Route 12 made it impossible to get through. Other times, I had to do some serious scud-running, darting from one clear area to the next to find my way across. Still other times, I was forced to fly above a cloud layer until I found a “hole” in the clouds where I could slip back underneath on the other side of the mountains. I can only remember one time when scattered clouds were high enough to make the flight as pleasant as it should be.

The weird thing about the Cascades is that you can’t see what the cloud cover is like there until you’re airborne and have cleared the mountains south of Wenatchee. The clouds don’t show up on radar or weather reports unless it’s raining. So you might have a perfectly beautiful day in Washington’s Columbia River basin but the Cascade Mountains could be completely socked in with thick clouds. It’s actually like that more often than not — at least in my experience.

So despite the fact that it was a beautiful day, I was a bit concerned about the weather.

Until I passed over Mission Ridge, just south of Wenatchee. I immediately saw Mt. Rainier and Mt. Adams in the distance. Seeing these two mountains — the whole mountains, not just the tops poking up through clouds — was a very good sign.

Penny immediately curled up on her blanket on the front passenger seat and went to sleep. This really surprised me. It was the first time she’d been in a helicopter and she seemed completely unconcerned about it. I guess that was a good sign, too.

And so began one of the most beautiful flights I’d ever had the pleasure of doing in my helicopter.

Mission Ridge
The top of Mission Ridge and beyond.

I crossed Mission Ridge, which was glowing almost orange in the first light of day and headed southwest along the straight line my GPS indicated to Hillsboro, OR. I drank in the scenery spread out before me: the windmill-studded valley around Ellensburg, the rolling pine forests cut with stream and river beds, the snowcapped granite ridges. At one point, I had Mt. Rainier off my right shoulder, Mt. Adams and Mt. Hood to my left, and Mt. St. Helens right in front of me. I felt like a tiny speck suspended in the air, the only person in the world able to see just what I was seeing. I felt small but all-seeing at the same time.

When I first caught sight of a fog-filled valley at the base of Mt. Rainier I began to realize that weather might still be an issue. Soon, I was flying from one pine-covered ridge to the next, over what looked like a sea of white foam. No VFR pilot likes to lose sight of the ground and I admit that I flew with some fear. An engine failure would leave me nowhere safe to land — if I tried to land in one of the valleys, I’d likely hit the ground before I saw it through the fog.

But the beauty of what was around me somehow made it okay. I thought to myself, if this is my time to go, what better place and way to end my life? Doing what I love — flying through amazing scenery — what else could anyone ask for? And then all the fear was gone and I was left once again to enjoy my surroundings.

Cascades Ridge
Flying across this ridge was the highlight of my flight.

I also felt more than a bit of sadness. There’s no way I can describe the amazing beauty of the remote wilderness that was around me for more than half of that flight. And yet there I was, enjoying it alone, unable to share it with anyone. Although I think my soon-to-be ex-husband would have enjoyed the flight, he was not with me and never would be again. I felt a surge of loneliness that I’ve never felt before. It ached to experience such an incredible flight alone, unable to share it firsthand with someone else who might appreciate it as much as I did.

I can’t begin to say how glad I am that the GoPro was rigged up and running for the whole flight. At least I have some video to share.

Mountain Lake
Yale Lake near Cougar, WA, just southeast of Mt. St. Helens.

As I descended down the southeast slope of Mt. St. Helens, leaving the Cascades behind me, I crossed over a small lake with a scattering of clouds at my level. As I glided through them and back into civilization, I felt as if the magical part of the flight was over. Indeed, the rest of the flight was rather routine, passing over rolling hills, farmland, highways, and rivers. A marine layer hung low over the Portland area and I squeezed under it, called the tower at Hillsboro Airport, and landed on the ramp at my destination. It was about 7:30 AM.

Penny at the Beach
Penny at the beach. She seems to like sand almost as much as grass.

The folks at Hillsboro Aviation were great. Although they didn’t finish up that day, the helicopter was ready to go at 9:30 AM the next morning. Penny and I had spent the night in Rockaway Beach, where Penny got to run through the sand and tease the other beach walkers with her antics.

We left Hillsboro at around 11 AM on Wednesday. It was a cloudless day — even the valley fog was gone. But the harsh midday light washed away much of the beauty of the scenery; the GoPro video from the return flight isn’t much to look at. We were back on the ground at our base in Wenatchee Heights before 1 PM, ready for another 100 hours of flight.

Taking a Stand Against the Full Body Backscatter X-Ray

Stand up for our rights. You can make a difference.

Yesterday, when I went through security at Seattle-Tacoma Airport (SEA) for a flight to Wenatchee Pangborn Airport (EAT), I was one of four people in a five-minute period who opted for a pat-down rather than subject my body to the highly controversial full body scanner or backscatter x-ray machine.

BackscatterWikipedia image. (No, it’s not me. Sheesh.)

Because we had to wait while the TSA called screeners for each of us, we discussed why we’d made the decision. The four of us agreed that the use of backscatter x-ray technology for security screening was a violation of our privacy and constitutional rights. This “virtual strip search” is not only ineffective for revealing hazardous materials carried by determined terrorists, but it raises additional health concerns. Two of us were certain that the machine was hazardous — more on that in a moment — I’m not convinced either way.

All four of us had decided to make a stand against the use of the equipment by forcing the TSA to conduct a pat-down each time we were asked to go through the machine. This inconveniences the TSA far more than it inconveniences us. It only adds about 10 minutes to your screening time, but it forces the TSA to shuffle around staff, thus slowing down the whole security line. If enough people do this on a regular basis, the TSA will be forced to increase its staff to handle screening needs during busy times — or simply cease using the machines. After all, the normal metal detectors are still there and are used when the backscatter x-ray machines are down for maintenance. Why is it that they’re good enough at, say 5:10 to 5:30 PM one day but not good enough five minutes before or after that? It’s all bullshit, if you ask me.

One by one we were taken away for our pat-downs. Soon, it was just me and a man left chatting. He said he always gets the pat-down and is convinced that the machine is dangerous. I told him that I always ask for a private screening. This doubly inconveniences the TSA because it requires not only a private space, but two TSA screeners of the same gender: one to conduct the pat-down and another to observe — so you can’t cry foul, I suppose.

In addition, because they can’t separate you from your luggage, they must carry all your luggage and bins into the screening room with them. If you have a lot of stuff — think laptop, coat, belt, purse, briefcase, carryon bag, etc. — that could take more than one trip. You’re not allowed to touch it once you opt out so they’re forced to carry it for you to the screening room. One time, I had three of them tied up carrying my stuff around.

The man I was speaking to obviously liked the idea as much as I did and he opted for a private screening, too.

While a lot has been said about the obtrusiveness of pat-downs, having gone through it three times now, I can assure women that it isn’t a big deal. I didn’t feel violated or uncomfortable at any time. It’s just another woman wearing gloves patting you down. I’ve had seamstresses get more friendly when fitting me for a gown.

I try to make the situation more tolerable by chatting up the TSA women, teasing them gently, making sure they understand that I’m just opting for the pat-down to “get my money’s worth” out of the screening process. Occasionally, I’ll get one that admits the process isn’t effective or doesn’t make sense, but most times they’ll stop short of actually saying so. Yesterday, one of the women actually admitted that she thinks the backscatter x-ray machine is dangerous. Not only will she avoid it, but she’s told her mother not to go through it. Good to know that the TSA can’t even convince it’s own people about the safety and security of the system.

I usually mention the Israeli airport security system as an alternative method of screening. Often, they are familiar with it. Yesterday, one of the women said that they couldn’t use that system “because we’re not allowed to profile.” We both agreed that profiling should be allowed — at least to a certain extent. But rather than the kind of racial profiling Sheriff Joe uses to harass Hispanic people in the Phoenix area, airport profiling should look for signs of nervousness or other indicators that might suggest a person has something to hide. This is psychological profiling that requires extensive training and dedicated screeners. Unfortunately, members of the U.S. government would rather spend our tax dollars on sophisticated machines manufactured by their friends than useful training for TSA and other security agents.

As usual, yesterday’s pat-down was a non-event. I made my statement and was very pleased to see that I wasn’t the only one doing so. My only question is this: Why are most people acting like sheep, walking through a machine that displays nude images of them to strangers while dosing them with radiation?

The GOP and its propaganda arms (think Fox News and Rush Limbaugh) are constantly talking about government intrusion in our lives and violations of our constitutional rights, yet I don’t see any of them complaining about this complete disregard for privacy and Fourth Amendment rights. Why not?

Don’t they see that every time they introduce a measure like this, they’re subjecting us to more government intrusion and violating more of our rights?

I’m an American and I value my rights. Because of this, I arrive at the airport an extra 15 minutes early and do my part to protest the use of this ineffective, unnecessary, and possibly harmful intrusion of my privacy and violation of my rights.

If you care about your rights, you’ll do the same.

Feeling Overwhelmed?

Join the club.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed. It isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. But it is bothersome — an uncomfortable feeling that makes me question everything about my life.

I’ve made some serious personal decisions recently that are likely to rock my world over the coming months. This is a stressful situation that’s not made any easier by the lack of support by friends and family members. I’m going it alone — as I so often do — and it’s weighing heavily on my mind.

But the feeling of being overwhelmed is primarily due to my workload. As a freelancer, I work when there’s work to do. When there isn’t work to do, I’m usually waiting for or looking for more work. Sometimes I need to make work. Other times, work appears unexpectedly — even when I don’t want it or have time for it. But I have to do it all — to turn down work is to possibly miss out on future work.

Such is the life of a freelancer.

Right now, I’m working on four content creation (writing, video, etc.) projects:

  • Book CoverFinishing up a special iBooks 2 interactive edition of my iBooks Author book. This requires me to record and edit dozens of screencast videos and completely re-layout the book in iBooks Author. The good news: I might be able to finish up today. That is, if Alex the Bird can keep quiet and the landscapers don’t spend much time blowing leaves outside my window. And the neighbor’s dog doesn’t bark nonstop for an hour. Again.
  • Lynda LogoPrepare scripts for a revision of my Twitter Essential Training course on Lynda.com. We’ll be recording this course soon and I want to be fully prepared before I fly out to Lynda to record. And my new producer, wants to see the scripts, too.
  • An aerial photography book. I began writing this last year and have put it aside repeatedly because I need artwork and photos that I can’t produce on my own. I suspect it’ll have to wait until this summer to finish up.
  • A book of helicopter pilot stories. I’m collecting these stories from other pilots and plan to compile them in a book for release later this spring. As I get more and more bogged down with other things, however, the self-imposed deadline keeps slipping. I suspect this will be finished up when I get to Washington, too.

Of course, with Mac OS X Mountain Lion announced, I know what I’ll be doing first when I get to Washington: Revising my Mac OS X Lion book for the new version of the OS. Oh, yeah — and then there’s the videos and Websites I’ve been asked to create for a handful of winemakers up there.

It’s not just writing work and the occasional helicopter flight that’s stacked up before me. It’s all the paperwork that goes with it.

I have two separate businesses, each with their own bank accounts and accounting records. I don’t have an accountant — hell, I am an accountant; my BBA is in accounting. To hire an accountant would be silly, since I could do that work myself and save a bunch of money. So I do. Or I try to. Often, it just stacks up, waiting for me to get to. I haven’t balanced a bank account in several months. And I’m only partially switched from Quicken (since it no longer works in the current version of Mac OS) to iBank (which I really don’t like). It’ll take days to sort out the accounting mess I face when I get around to it.

And then comes tax time. What a freaking nightmare that is.

And then my annual migration back to Washington. That’s a logistics issue. Find someone to fly up to Washington with me to help cover the flight costs. Do the flight. Catch a commercial flight back to Arizona. Pack the RV, get the truck ready. (Did I mention that I might have to buy a new truck this year, too? And take delivery before the end of April?) Make the 1200-mile drive to the Wenatchee area. Retrieve the helicopter from wherever I left it in Washington. Get my contracts set up for summer work.

Of course, that’s if there is summer work. My clients never want to sign up until after the last frost. There’s a chance I might get to Washington with the helicopter and a frost will wipe out the cherry crop. No need for my services then. Ready to fly but no clients. How do you think this possibility affects my stress levels?

On the flip side, there might be too much work for me to take on by myself. Then I have to scramble and find people who are willing to put their life on hold for 3-6 weeks and wait around for the rain in Washington. I’ve already started collecting possible candidate phone numbers. None of them are happy that they’ll have to wait until May to know whether there might be work for them.

Before I leave Arizona, however, I do have to pack up everything I own that’s in our Phoenix condo in case it’s rented or sold while I’m gone. That’s a whole office full of stuff, as well as clothes and other personal effects. Hell, I haven’t had enough time to unpack the boxes that brought some of this stuff here.

And I did mention that I have to travel to Lynda.com for a week to record a course, right?

And there is the possibility of a very big client needing to fly with me in late March or early April, before I go to Washington. Unfortunately, they can’t pin down a date. Once they do, if I’m not available, I’ll lose that job — and it’s not the kind of job I want to lose.

Along the way, I need to start seriously considering where I’m going to live and what I’m going to do when my work in Washington is done this year. I’ve been wanting to relocate for years. I’m sick of Wickenburg’s small-mindedness and the bullshit politics and greed that have ruined the town. Phoenix is no gem, either — except on February days like yesterday when the temperature hovers in the high 70s and there’s not a cloud in the sky. The personal decisions I’ve made recently give me a good opportunity to make the change. Unfortunately, I don’t know where I want to live. I’m leaning toward Oregon — perhaps in the Portland area — but who knows?

So with all this on my plate and on my mind is it any wonder that I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed?

But this is typical in my life — and in the life of most hardworking freelancers and business owners. Things don’t get done by themselves. And if things aren’t done, I start feeling it in the bank account. I don’t know about you, but I like to pay my bills on time and eat.

Guess I’d better get back to work.