A Seattle Day Trip

Planned, executed, and enjoyed.

Wenatchee to Seattle Map
Wenatchee is nearly due east of Seattle. Malaga is under the “c” in Wenatchee on this map. The numbers mark the three passes over the Cascades between Malaga and Seattle: (1) Blewett (Rte 97), (2) Snoqualmie (I-90), and (3) Stevens (Rte 2).

I live in Malaga, WA, a small farming community on the outskirts of Wenatchee on the Columbia River. Although the small city Wenatchee offers just about everything a person needs on a daily basis, some things are only available in big cities. The closest big city is Seattle, 145 road miles away.

As I did when I lived in the Arizona town of Wickenburg — which had far less to offer than Wenatchee — I would often wait until I had multiple big city tasks to complete before planning a trip and getting those things done. Phoenix was closer to Wickenburg and I went there more often. (I actually lived there for a while during the 2011/2012 winter season; I was not very happy, despite the convenience.) Seattle, a three hour drive away, isn’t the kind of place I’d zip off to on a whim or to chase down a needed computer component or decent restaurant meal. (And it certainly isn’t the kind of place I’d want to live — too much cloudy weather!)

But as time went by, I accumulated “excuses” for a day trip to Seattle. I needed to get the battery on my iPhone replaced (under warranty) at an Apple store before November month-end. I wanted to buy cross-country skis without spending the $600+ dollars it would cost me locally for a setup. I was interested in meeting up with some like-minded people in one of the many Meetup groups based in Seattle.

On Saturday morning, a Meetup group notice in my email inbox spurred me to action. One of the groups that interested me was gathering for a weekly hike around Green Lake in Seattle followed by lunch at a local dog-friendly cafe. The hike would be at 11 AM on Sunday. I had nothing else on my calendar for that day. Within minutes, I was planning my day trip.

The Plan

The plan would start at REI’s flagship store on Yale Avenue North, right off I-5. I’d already done some online shopping and found a good deal on cross-country skis, boots, and poles that would save me $200 off what I’d pay locally. (I like to support local businesses with my shopping dollars, but I simply can’t swallow the extra cost these days.) I called the store and had them put the skis on hold for me. The store opened at 10 AM and it would be my first stop.

Next was the hike. That started at 11 and all I needed was the address for the meeting place, the stadium at Green Lake.

I’d finish up with a stop at an Apple Store. A quick search showed me one near the hiking destination, in a place called University Village. I went onto their web page to set up a Genius Bar appointment. I gave some careful consideration to the appointment time. I didn’t want it to be too early, forcing me to cut my time with the meetup folks. But I didn’t want it to be late, forcing me to drive home in the dark with possibly bad weather on the way. Finally, I chose 3:20 PM from the available times.

I then called Apple support and had them pull up the notes on my iPhone case. I wanted to make sure the there was no question about them replacing the faulty battery. I was assured that there would be no problem getting it done while I waited.

I entered all of these items into my calendar as events, making sure I included street addresses. When my calendar synced with my phone and iPad, I’d have them handy throughout the day.

The Drive

There are basically three ways to get to Seattle from Wenatchee.

  • The shortest route (time-wise) takes me north through Wenatchee onto Route 2 west with a turn onto Route 97 south. Route 97 is a relatively narrow, winding mountain road that crosses Blewett Pass at 4,102 feet. The road then descends down to Cle Elum, where I’d turn onto I-90 west. That’s a major freeway that winds up through the mountains and crosses at Snoqualmie Pass at 3,022 feet. After that, the road descends right down into Seattle, just a tiny bit south of center city. This is the route that most mapping apps and GPSes suggest.
  • The shortest route (distance-wise) takes me north through Wenatchee onto Route 2 west and stays on Route 2 through Stevens Pass at 4,061 feet. Route 2 is a winding mountain road and, although it’s a beautiful drive, it seems amazingly long.
  • The longest of the three main routes goes southeast from Wenatchee through Quincy to George where it picks up I-90. From there, it heads west through Ellensburg and Cle Elum, over the mountains at Snoqualmie Pass at 3,022 feet and down into Seattle.

Although I dislike driving on freeways, this was not a pleasure drive. I had a need for speed to make the most of my day in Seattle. In addition, winter weather advisories for the Cascade Mountains made it likely that snow would be falling overnight and possibly on Sunday morning. My experience driving in snow is limited — after all, I lived in Arizona for the past 15 years — and I wasn’t interested in a thrill ride. The way I saw it, the better the road over the mountains, the more likely it would be clear of snow and ice. So I chose the longest of the three ways, adding about 40 miles (but theoretically only 15 minutes) to my one-way drive.

(By the way, in case you think I’m over-reacting to a little weather on my drive over the mountains, consider the fact that WDOT has a whole section of its website dedicated to mountain passes. You can access live webcams, condition information, and restrictions 24/7/365. Indeed, when I was chatting later in the day with various Meetup members, two of them asked me about pass conditions when they heard where I’d driven from.)

I had to take my truck. Cross-country skis would not fit in my Honda S2000 with the top up and top-down driving was not an option with mountain temperatures in the 30s and a real chance of rain or snow. Although the skis might have fit in my Jeep, it’s a soft-top and can’t be secured. I didn’t want those skis disappearing out of my Jeep while I was on my hike or in the Apple Store. So my truck was the obvious choice. It gets decent mileage for a truck (about 15-18 mpg highway) and is comfortable to drive. It also has new all-weather tires.

I packed some emergency gear just in case I got stuck on the road: a blanket, some non-perishable food, some water. I already had tow-straps and emergency reflectors on board. (Note to self: buy flares.) I really didn’t know what to expect and wanted to be prepared.

By 7 AM, on Sunday morning, I was ready to go. The sky was just brightening and the full moon was illuminating the world around me where it broke through the clouds. The weather forecast called for good weather in Wenatchee and I had a few second thoughts about my trip to Seattle. After all, the weather forecast for that area was cloudy with a 40% chance of rain and a high of 50°. Not very pleasant. If I stayed home, I could get some work done in the yard.

Moonlight
I snapped this photo right before I left on my day trip to Seattle.

But I was really looking forward to getting things done in Seattle. So I put Penny’s coat on her and bundled her into the truck. A while later, we were on our way south. I had my phone connected to the truck stereo with MapQuest giving me directions and updated ETA info and Downcast playing podcasts from NPR.

There was weather in the Colockum west of Quincy. I’d been flying in that area just a few days before, on a wildlife survey flight. Low, fog-like clouds engulfed the hills and canyons offering glimpses of fresh snow. I thought about flying over the area later in the week and hoped I’d get the opportunity.

It didn’t start drizzling on us until we were on the freeway heading west, just getting close to Ellensburg. The sky was gray with a low overcast. The windmills appeared out of the gloom, rotating slowly as I passed them.

Snowqualmie Pass
Despite the gray, the thick snow in the pine trees made the scene beautiful.

As we climbed through Cle Elum, I saw the snow level not far above us. Soon there was snow on both sides of the road. The speed limit dropped from 70 to 55. Signs warned about slush on the roadway. Then the speed limit dropped to 45 as we climbed to the pass. The snow was thick on the pine trees and the road was wet with small piles of snow on the shoulders.

It was a non-event, really. The roads were not slippery and there were so few vehicles on the road that the going was easy. Soon we were past the pass and headed down toward sea level. The snow disappeared and even the rain let up a lot. It was a mere drizzle by the time we turned onto I-5 for the last two miles of our trip to Seattle.

REI Flagship Store

REI is a major retailer for outdoor sporting goods for active people — gear for hiking, camping, skiing, paddling, etc. They have locations all over the U.S. I know them from my New Jersey days, but also occasionally visited their Phoenix locations — especially the last year I was in Arizona, when I had become a lot more physically fit and active.

Although REI is not the cheapest source for sporting gear, it is one of the best. They carry good quality equipment at a fair price and have knowledgeable and helpful sales staff. Articles on their website, such as this one about choosing cross-country skis, are extremely helpful when making a purchase decision. They offered a discount on complete ski packages — which I needed — and were having a sale.

My Compact Truck
If it fits in a “compact” spot, it’s a compact vehicle, right?

With some difficulty, I maneuvered my pickup into the underground parking lot beneath the building. It was 10 AM when we arrived and cars were just pulling in. Because I foresaw the possibility of a difficult drive out of the lot once it was full, I backed my truck into a spot with a clear drive out. It wasn’t until after Penny and I left that I realized the spot was marked “Compact.”

I took Penny for a walk around the block. It was then that I realized what a neat facility I was at. Not only did they have a huge rock-climbing wall in the front of the store, but there were mountain bike and hiking trails for testing out equipment. The waterfall was a nice touch, too. Sure did drown out the sound of the nearby freeway, anyway.

I put Penny back in the truck and went in to take care of business. There was only one guy in the cross-country ski department and he was waiting on 5 people. He took a moment to pull my skis out of the hold area between helping other people and I tracked down the right length poles and style of boot. Eventually, it was my turn and he fetched the boots in my size. My luck: they didn’t have the boots on display in my size. Instead, they had last year’s model which were comparable but $25 less. They fit perfectly.

I want to take a moment to comment on how different cross-country skis are now compared to when I first began cross-country skiing in the 1980s. Back then, there weren’t many options; the sport wasn’t terribly popular. Nordic skiing hadn’t caught on yet. You’d buy skis strictly on the basis of your height. Boots weren’t boots — they were shoes that didn’t even cover your ankles.

Nowadays, you choose skis based on the type of skiing you want to do and your level of expertise. Sizes are based on the type of skiing, level of expertise, and weight of the skier. Boots are boots — they cover your ankles — and rather than rely strictly on laces, they close up with a combination of laces, zippers, and velcro. (No chance of my feet escaping by accident.) I have no idea how the prices compare; I can only assume they’re more costly. I spent $320 on my complete setup, including tax. But because I went with decent-quality intermediate level skis, I’m certain they’re the last skis I’ll ever need to buy.

Although I’d wanted to spend a little extra time looking at outdoor clothing, I had no time left. I reasoned that I could buy clothes locally and probably save some money if I kept an eye out for sales and closeouts. So I tucked my skis and poles under my arm, grabbed my box of boots, and headed back out to the truck.

Hiking with Strangers at Green Lake

I started hiking with Meetup groups last autumn when I returned to Arizona for my last winter there. I was very fortunate to find the Phoenix Atheist Meetup Group, which does weekly hikes on Sundays. It was a real pleasure to get out with a group of friendly, educated, and intelligent people. I blogged about it last November.

Although I love hiking around the Wenatchee area, I miss the group hikes I enjoyed all last winter in Arizona. So I was very pleased to find that the Seattle Atheists/Agnostics Meetup Group also did hikes, including a weekly Sunday hike around Green Lake.

I should mention here that I prefer hiking in a variety of locations. A 3-mile hike on a paved trail around a lake in a city park didn’t really excite me. I like a longer hike in more varied terrain with lots of new and different things to see and enough challenge to work up a little sweat. What got me interested in going on this hike was meeting new people and hiking in a new place. But if I lived in Seattle, I seriously doubt whether I’d show up for weekly hikes at the same venue.

I used the Maps app on my iPhone to get directions to the park. It was only a few miles away. Penny and I pulled up exactly on time. I parked and locked the truck, put Penny on her leash, and went in search of about a dozen strangers.

I found a likely group of eight or so people standing beside the pathway, chatting. “Is this the Meetup group?” I asked someone.

A man replied. “Yes.”

Remembering one Sunday the previous November when I’d run into three different Meetup Groups meeting in the same place, I asked, “Which one?”

“The godless ones,” he replied with a grin.

I gave him a big thumbs up. “I’m in the right place, then.”

More people came and we introduced ourselves quickly by name. The organizer announced that they wouldn’t be having lunch after the hike because most of the members were going to an exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum afterwards. They we set off on a walk counterclockwise around the remarkably round lake. I fell into place beside two men and we immediately got to chatting about various things.

The pathway was paved with a line down the middle separating the walking path from the biking path. Both were full. So was the gravel path on the inside of the curve. Lots of walkers and bikers and joggers and dogs. Penny was not well behaved and I had to keep her on a short leash. Over-stimulated, one of my companions said and I agreed. She likes to bark and chase other dogs, anyone moving faster than a walk, and bicycles. That accounted for about 75% of the people around us.

The weather held and even improved. Although it was somewhat windy, the wind wasn’t strong enough to be an issue. It put waves on the lake; ducks sleeping on the water with their beaks tucked under their wings bobbed up and down. A sole kayaker, looking odd in a life vest with a sweatshirt under it, paddled around. Overhead, the clouds whizzed by, offering the occasional glimpse of an airliner on final approach to SeaTac.

Later, the hike organizer joined us. The conversation turned to the topics that concern atheists, such as separation of church and state. We shared opinions on Bill O’Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, and Jon Stewart. It was refreshing to talk about these things with like-minded people. Like Arizona, Washington state outside the Seattle area is very conservative and few people I know share my views on these things. I’ve learned not to talk about them until I know where my companions stand. Conservatives in the U.S. tend to be steadfast in their beliefs and will rabidly defend them to the point of offending those who don’t agree. Life’s too short to deal with that crap. That’s why I enjoy the company of a more liberal crowd who can at least debate a topic intelligently with an open mind.

We did the 3-mile walk — I can’t honestly call it a hike — in almost exactly one hour. Members of the group said their goodbyes to hurry off to the museum. I asked my companions if anyone was interested in getting a bite to eat. Several were. I dropped Penny off in the truck, grabbed my wallet, and joined them for a walk one third of the way back around the lake. I paired up with another man, a retired hospital administrator who was thinking of relocating to Ecuador. We talked about that and my career as a writer. There was a Peet’s Coffee shop just outside the park and we went in for coffee and breakfast pastries.

We hung out for nearly two hours, talking about all kinds of things: flying, women’s roles, navigation, health care, the U.S. budget, war, etc. Everyone with an opinion shared it based on facts. There were no crazy, radical opinions. Even when one of us didn’t disagree, we discussed it calmly, with no temper tantrums.

And they kept me honest. When I mentioned that defense accounted for half the U.S. budget, one of my companions said that couldn’t be right. I used my iPhone to pull up my source for that information on the Washington Post website and he was right. Defense accounted for nearly as much as the top expense item, Social Security, but not half the budget. I should have more accurately said that it was the second highest expense item after social security or that it and social security combined accounted for nearly half the budget. I admitted my error — mature, self-confident people are not afraid (or ashamed) of admitting mistakes — and the discussion continued without prejudice. In this day and age, people are so willing to accept “facts” as they are presented; it was refreshing to be challenged. It told me that the people I was dealing with were smart, informed, and not afraid to get the facts in a conversation.

How could I not like that?

Green Lake
Green Lake? It looks blue to me.

By 2 PM, I was ready to go. We had a 20-minute walk back to the parking lot and I had a 10- or 15-minute drive to the Apple Store. I did not want to miss my appointment. I put my jacket on and said I needed to go. I guess I wasn’t the only one. Everyone else got up to leave, too.

We walked back together, chatting the whole time. By then, the weather had cleared considerably and it had turned into a really beautiful autumn day. I snapped a picture before saying goodbye to my companions and heading back to the truck. I took Penny for a quick walk, used my phone to get directions to the Apple Store, and got back on my way.

Apple Store, University Village

University Village turned out to be a very trendy outdoor shopping center. You know the kind — they spread the stores out in a big area with walkways and streets between them to simulate a town-like atmosphere. It was very pleasant but not very easy to navigate and a nightmare to find parking in when you’re driving something akin to a monster truck.

I did find a parking garage near the Apple Store. It said the clearance was 7 feet and I knew that was okay because the REI parking garage had been 7 feet, too. But in this garage, my radio antenna scraped on every single concrete beam I drove under and I felt myself ducking at more than a few of them. I found an end parking space on the second level and got out, leaving the windows cracked for Penny. She didn’t seem to mind staying behind again — I think she was exhausted from her 3-mile walk spent straining against a 5-foot leash.

The Apple Store was a big open space filled with iPads and iPhones and computers and people. I made my way to the Genius Bar in the back and signed in with an Apple staffer. I was 20 minutes early. He suggested I go grab a cup of coffee — Starbucks was nearby — but I told him I’d rather wait. I figured I’d update my iPad and iPhone apps using the store’s wifi connection. He put me at a table in front of a MacBook Pro and I got to work. I also used the computer to check the weather for my return trip.

Right on time a Genius showed up. We reviewed my issue and he ran a diagnostic on my phone. Sure enough, I now qualified for a warranty battery replacement. He told me it would take 30 to 40 minutes and suggested I come back at 4 PM.

I considered fetching Penny for a walk but decided against it. I felt like having a bite of real food to eat, comfort food, perhaps. The weather had turned gray and drizzly again and with just a danish, an energy bar, and two cups of coffee in my stomach all day, I was ready for something warm. I wandered around the “village” and found a pasta place. I ordered a Mac and Cheese and read a book on my iPad while I ate.

I returned at 4 PM sharp and inquired about my phone. The staffer typed a secret message on her iPod and, a few minutes later, someone handed her my phone. The battery had been replaced at had a 49% charge. I’d charge it on my way home. I used an Apple gift card I had to buy a charging adapter that I needed and left.

Quick and easy.

The Trip Home

Of course, by the time I left, it was after 4 PM. Although I couldn’t see the sunset, it happened right around then. By the time I turned onto I-90 it was starting to get dark.

It was also raining. It rained for most of the drive back, getting darker and darker until it was night. I don’t like driving at night anymore and try to avoid it. But with Washington’s short winter days, it’s not really an option unless you plan to spend much of your time at home. I don’t.

The temperature up in the pass was just above freezing. There were a lot more cars and trucks on the road, too. But again, it was a non-event. I descended down toward Ellensburg, ignoring MapQuest’s advice to get on route 97. I’d driven Blewett Pass once at night in dry conditions; there was no way I would do it at night in the rain with the possibility of ice.

I stopped in Ellensburg for fuel and to take Penny for a quick walk. I missed getting a cup of coffee in one of those coffee shacks so ubiquitous in the northwest by about 10 minutes.

The rain had stopped by the time I got back on I-90. The rest of the drive went by in a blur. I made a quick stop at Fred Meyer in East Wenatchee to return a RedBox video and then drove home. It was exactly 8 PM when I unlocked the door and went inside with Penny.

I’d been gone for about 13 hours and had gotten a lot done. I was nearly ready for ski season — I just needed some clothing items — and had gotten my phone repaired. I’d also met a bunch of smart, friendly people on a walk in a new place. It had certainly been worth the drive.

Buying Native Plants

My order is in for spring!

I get a lot of mail here — a lot more mail than I got in Arizona. I’m still trying to figure that out.

Among the mail I got this week was a four-page newsletter from the Cascadia Conservation District. I’m not a member — at least I don’t think so. I think it just went out to everyone.

Quaking Aspen
I shot this photo of quaking aspen trees at my neighbor’s home last month. I ordered 20 bare root stock aspen trees and hope to have my own grove growing next year.

This particular issue had an order form for the 2014 Native Plant Sale. I was thrilled to find bare root stock of native trees at very affordable prices. For example, a bundle of ten 12-inch Quaking Aspen trees was only $15. The same price applied to other trees that interested me: Blue Elderberry (which has edible berries), Red Osier Dogwood (which has red bark in winter), and Woods Rose. And if I wanted Ponderosa Pines — which I do, but not right away — I could get a bundle of 25 trees for $20 or 200 for $120.

There were more options on the order form, but I just chose the ones listed above (except the pines). I chose them primarily because they’re fast growers and they flower at various times of the spring or summer. (My bees will like that.) As for the aspens — well, I just love aspen trees. I mean, who doesn’t? You can download an illustrated brochure of all the plants here.

What’s best about all this, though, is that these are native trees — not something from out of the area brought in to Home Depot or nurseries just because people like them. I think it’s important to landscape with native plants. Not only are they more likely to do better locally, but in this area, they’re likely to need less irrigation or soil supplementation.

The order form requires me to submit my order with at least 50% payment by February 14, 2014. But because I know I’ll forget if I put it aside, I filled it out today and will mail it in when I drive down to town later. Plant pickup will be on April 5, 2014. In the meantime, they’re also offering a “Native Planting 101” Workshop in February, which I’ve already signed up for.

So yes, in April I’ll be digging a lot of little holes. But I’m excited about moving forward with landscaping on my property. This looks like a great way to start.

November Full-Day Time-Lapse

A recent time-lapse from my home in Malaga.

I love time-lapse photography. Although there’s nothing terribly special about this 2-minute compilation, it’s my first effort at a full-day time-lapse movie shot from my new home in Malaga, WA. The view looks northwest, toward East Wenatchee (center) and Wenatchee (left).

The formula: one shot every 10 seconds compiled at 30 frames per second. This was shot on November 3, 2013.

It’s interesting to note that because there are tall cliffs south of my property, in the wintertime, I don’t get direct sunlight on my home until late morning. I suspect that’ll get even later as the days get shorter. In the summer, however, I get nearly a full day of direct sunlight — perfect for gardening!

I Am a View Person

It’s not about how big or fancy or well-furnished my home is — it’s about what’s out the windows.

I’ll admit it: I’m selfish. I’m not interested in living in a showplace bought and decorated to impress my family and friends. I don’t care about how big my home is, how many rooms it has, or what designer furniture and fixtures it contains. I don’t care about Pier 1 nicknacks obtained only to fill empty spaces on tables and walls. I don’t care about aromatherapy candles to make my home smell like cinnamon and spice or vanilla or whatever the current season is.

What I care about is what’s outside the windows. I want a view.

And the better the view, the more windows I want to enjoy it, day or night, from the comfort of my home.

It all started back in my college days with my dorm room on the 14th (top) floor of one of Hofstra’s six “towers.” It faced east, with windows that covered one wall. It was only 8 x 12 in size but with a high ceiling that allowed a friend to build me a loft for sleeping. I spent a lot of time looking out those windows, at the other towers nearby and the flat expanse of Nassau County in Long Island. If I’d been on the opposite side of the building, I would have had an unobstructed view of the Manhattan skyline less than 30 miles away.

Later, I lived on the third floor of a row house in Bayside, NY. The big windows and patio overlooked that overlooked Littleneck Bay. It wasn’t the best view, but it was something. Even the constant swoosh swoosh swoosh of cars on the Cross Island Parkway 100 feet below couldn’t detract from it.

Still later, when I moved from the east coast to Wickenburg, Arizona, I was sold on my home primarily because of the view. It looked out to the northeast where I could see the Weaver Mountains beyond a nearby ridge. It also looked out to the southwest, where I could see the top of Vulture Peak. The views were not perfect but they were nice. I especially liked to watch the Weaver Mountains turn almost copper-colored as the sun set.

Looking for an escape from Wickenburg’s oppressive summer heat, I looked at land at Howard Mesa Ranch, a development of 10- and 40-acre lots between Williams and the Grand Canyon. The lot that hooked me was on the very top of the mesa, with amazing 360° views. Although I could see the snow-capped San Francisco Peaks to the east, it was the expansive view to the west that captured my heart. I wanted so badly to build a small home up there with big windows to take in those views, but it was not to be.

Jack the Dog at Howard Mesa
My dog, Jack, looking out over my favorite view at Howard Mesa. The view to the west was expansive — I could often see mountains on the Arizona Strip more than 80 miles away.

In 2012, at the start of my fifth consecutive summer in the Wenatchee area of Washington, I started thinking of a summer homesite in the area. I often visited Malaga Springs Winery on Cathedral Rock Road; it had excellent views out toward the Columbia River. A friend owned land out there and, on a whim, I called to ask who his Realtor was and whether he knew of any lots that were available nearby. Coincidentally, he and his wife had just decided to sell their lot. They’d decided that they were a bit too old to start building their dream home.

Of course, I was immediately sold on the lot. The views were amazing — far better than Wickenburg or even Howard Mesa. Spread out before me were orchards and sagebrush-covered hills, basalt cliffs, and the Columbia River snaking through the broad Wenatchee Valley. I blogged about buying it here.

My New Home
Here’s a shot of the west end of my 10-acre lot, taken from the hillside on the south border of my land. My mobile mansion looks tiny here, no?

But it wasn’t until I moved here — in my RV until my home can be built in the spring — that I realized just how amazing the views were. Every moment of the day, every change of the light or clouds, every day of the year — the view changes. Don’t believe me? Here are three shots from this week, all shot from the front door of my RV.

Cloud View
The sky isn’t always this dramatic, but it was yesterday afternoon. One of my Facebook friends said it looked like the mothership was about to descend.

View at Night
Believe it or not, it wasn’t until I moved here that I was here at night. The nighttime view absolutely floored me. Best of all, I’m still far enough from Wenatchee to have dark skies overhead.

First Light
I shot this photo this morning, not long after sunrise. Yes, that’s snow on the mountains in the distance. Although some of that snow is relatively fresh, there’s snow up there year-round.

My Bad View
My “bad” view isn’t too shabby, either.

Wondering what the view looks like in other directions? Well, the photo here shows my “bad” view — the basalt cliffs on the south side of my property. My first home will be built on this patch of land, leaving the area where my RV is currently parked available for a larger home if I need (or want) one. (Local zoning allows two residences on lots of this size, as long as one of them is 1200 square feet or smaller.)

And you can bet my home will have lots of big windows looking out over the big views I’m showing off here.

In any case, I love the views and I love to share them with my friends and family. So don’t think I’m bragging when I keep posting photos on Facebook and Twitter and this blog. I’m constantly amazed by what I’m seeing and I want you to be amazed, too.

I’m a view person. Are you?

The Joy of Flying with an Experienced Professional Videographer

Makes me wonder why I bother with the amateurs.

I had a great flight yesterday. A flight that should stand as a shining example of the kind of flying I love to do with the kind of professionals I like to work with. Let me tell you about it.

But first — because I can’t keep a short story short — some background.

Dealing with Amateurs

I feel the pain of professional photographers — folks who have invested thousands of dollars and years of their lives accumulating quality photography equipment, learning their craft, and practicing until they know how to make every shot count. These people are now competing with amateurs who buy DSLR cameras and call themselves “photographers.” These people use the “shotgun approach” to photography — they shoot dozens of images with the hopes that one or two of them will satisfy their client. They undercut the professionals in pricing because they simply don’t have as much invested in the business and, indeed, some might even have other jobs to support them. The professionals are losing jobs — and their livelihoods — because the amateurs are taking away their clients.

As a pilot providing aerial photography flights, I see this a lot. I get calls from photographers and videographers looking for a platform to get their aerial shots. If they don’t balk at my prices, they usually come in with a set time limit to minimize their flying costs. I can understand this — to a certain extent, anyway. Then they arrive for the shoot and immediately begin to show just how amateurish and unprofessional they are by:

  • Bringing the wrong equipment. I’m talking about consumer quality cameras and lenses, telephoto and long zoom lenses, DSLRs for video, and bulky camera bags full of equipment they will not need and likely cannot access anyway during the flight.
  • Ignoring my advice for seating. If they’re serious about getting good shots of a specific target, they should sit behind the pilot. That’s the only way the pilot can see what they see.
  • Bringing two photographers with two different missions. Usually it’s a still photographer brought along on a video flight. That simply isn’t going to be as cost effective as they think if they take my advice and put the primary photographer behind me.
  • Failing to communicate what they want or expect. I can’t fly the way they need me to if they don’t tell me what they want. They have a microphone next to their mouths. They need to use it. Without specific instructions, I can only assume that what I’m doing is what they want. They have no right to complain later if it isn’t.
  • Making unreasonable demands. I’m talking about expecting to fill all seats in the helicopter when the extra weight would seriously affect performance. (I no longer do photo/video flights with more than two passengers on board. Period.) I’m talking about expecting the pilot to fly at top speed from target to target and then stop “on a dime” if a good shot comes into view along the way. I’m talking about expecting the pilot to hover low-level, fly close to obstacles such as wires, and perform other maneuvers that simply aren’t safe.
  • Talking down to the pilot. I’ve seen this too many times. Amateurs with a bankroll have expensive equipment, no clue how to use it, and an attitude that makes me want to kick them in the teeth. They know it all — or think they do — and they feel a need to correct me every chance they get. I take guys like this just once, give them what they ask for, and never take them again. I don’t want clients like this.

I can think of at least two posts I’ve written that talk about the problems with specific amateurs: “Flying The 2010 Parker 425” and “Tips for Aerial Photographers.” You can get a better idea of the kind of crap I have to deal with by reading those.

Dealing with Professionals

But that’s not what this post is about. This post is about working with a seasoned professional who has lots of experience with aerial photography.

I started to get an idea of the level of professionalism I’d face before I even met the photographer. It was 7 AM and I needed to meet the client in Ephrata, WA at 8 AM. I was prepping the helicopter for the 20-minute flight. I wasn’t sure whether we’d have a single base of operations or if we’d be moving around. I needed to know whether I should remove doors before heading out.

The videographer, I’d been told, would be using a Tyler Minigyro. I’ve had experience with these before. They’re relatively flexible gyro-stabilized mounts that the videographer holds during flight. Because I wouldn’t be using my Moitek Mount, which needs to be installed in a specific seat, the videographer had three seats to choose from. Which door should I remove?

I called the client, coincidentally named Tyler. He was with the videographer. He asked the videographer what he thought. I heard his response through the phone: “The best seat is behind the pilot so she can see what I see.”

Rigged For Photo Flight
Here’s my helicopter yesterday morning, rigged for the photo flight with both back doors removed.

That was the exact right answer. “I like this guy already,” I told my client. I wound up removing both back doors in case lighting conditions made the videographer want to change seats. As it turned out, I didn’t need to do that and probably shouldn’t have — it caused additional wind to enter the aircraft during point-to-point travel. In all honesty, I probably could have left the doors on until meeting the client — and then stowed them in the client’s SUV.

Jim
Here’s Jim, the videographer, almost ready to fly.

After picking up one client in Ephrata and flying down to Desert Aire in Mattawa, I met the other clients, including the videographer. The videographer was a burly bearded guy named Jim who was friendly and good-natured. He’d flown quite a bit with a pilot friend of mine in Idaho. He had a huge array of professional equipment, including the rented Tyler Minigyro, two enormous battery packs, an older RED camera with external hard disk, two lenses, a half dozen camera batteries, and a video monitor for the front seat observer. While this may seem like a lot of equipment, he only carried what he needed onboard; there were no extraneous camera bags and loose items.

After prepping most of the equipment, Jim told me he liked to start each shoot with a meeting to cover the expectations. Another sign of a professional. We chatted for a while about the targets we’d be shooting — mostly dams and recreational areas along the Columbia River — and the kinds of shots he was looking for. I told him what I needed from him — clear communication of what he wanted — and told him that I’d do what I could to get him in position for all of his shots. I assured him that the helicopter’s performance with just three people on board and 3/4 tanks fuel would be sufficient for most maneuvers.

We wound up taking off the front passenger door for the other client, who wanted to get some still images. (Of course.) Fortunately, for the duration of the flight I was not asked to put him into position to get his shots; he just shot what he wanted when he could get the right composition.

We lifted off and got to work around 9 AM, leaving Tyler behind to shoot on the ground. We immediately encountered some problems with the camera. First it was dropping frames and then it was locking up. Jim switched a battery in flight and we were able to get to work. His instructions to me were clear and easy to follow. I could tell that he’d flown with a lot of pilots before by the way he phrased his requests: “If you think it’s safe, can we…” It was obvious that he understood the limitations of helicopters and the potential danger of certain maneuvers. That comes from a lot of flying. (I’ve only had two other clients who clearly understood limitations: one had been a passenger in a helicopter for more hours than I’ve flown as a pilot and the other one is an airplane pilot.)

It wasn’t long before we ware working smoothly together, almost as if we’d worked together for a long time. He’d ask for maneuvers and I’d do my best to deliver them. He and the front seat passenger would ooh and aah when they saw a particularly nice shot in the viewfinder or monitor. He’d tell me when I was doing something right and when I wasn’t doing it quite the way he wanted. Communication was excellent — I don’t think I’ve ever worked with a better communicator.

The helicopter performed remarkably well, especially that morning when the temperatures were still cool. All flight sequences, including sideways “crabbing” flights at speeds up to 30 knots, were amazingly smooth. This was, in part, due to the fact that there was hardly a breath of wind. I couldn’t have asked for better flying conditions that morning, although I wish it was about 15 degrees cooler that afternoon.

We worked our way up the Columbia River, shooting the dams, boats on the river, cultural and recreational sites, bridges, cliffs, communities, and more. We refueled at Ellensburg and kept flying, always moving upriver. Time flew by. By the time we reached the Rock Island Dam just downriver from Wenatchee and Malaga, I was starting to feel fatigued and I think Jim was, too. After a quick stop at Quincy Airport to meet Tyler to swap out batteries, we got onto our last leg of the flight which took us to Euphrata and Moses Lake. We shot agricultural and industrial sites along the way.

Unseasonably Warm
It’s been unseasonably warm this September in central Washington state.

By the time we landed at Moses Lake, I felt done — as in “stick a fork in me” done. The OAT gauge registered 101°F on the ramp. I was the only one with a door on the helicopter and was sweating up a storm by the time we touched down. Thank heaven for the folks at Million Aire; the girl who greeted us with a cart handed each of us an icy cold bottle of water that I really needed.

747
Jeez Louise! That’s a big plane!

By the time Tyler arrived and was escorted with the SUV out to the ramp, we’d unloaded most of the equipment from the helicopter. A Boeing 747 rolled in on the taxiway behind me and parked beside me; I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to a 747 on a ramp. (The damn thing is huge!) My clients stowed their equipment in the SUV and I fastened the door. I also let the FBO top off both tanks with fuel. Then my passenger and I were on our way back to Ephrata and, 15 minutes later, I was on my way home.

I got home around 4 PM. I’d spent 7.0 hours flying.

What Made this Great

I think it’s safe to say that this was one of the best aerial video gigs I’ve done in a long time. A few things made it so good:

  • The experience and professionalism of the videographer. He knew his stuff, he knew what worked, he never asked for anything I couldn’t or wouldn’t deliver. He was reasonable and extremely communicative. He was a real pleasure to work with.
  • The targets. The flight itself took us over some really nice scenery so point-to-point flying was a pleasure. The targets were interesting to see from the air and, in some cases, a bit challenging to shoot because of obstacles such as wires and cliff faces.
  • The length of the flight. It was refreshing to fly with someone who was more interested in getting the shot than minimizing flight time. More than once, we’d redo a shot just to make sure we got what the client needed. We also approached targets from a variety of angles and altitudes. This meant that we were in the air a long time. And I’ll be honest with you: I’d rather do one 7-hour video flight with no pressure to finish within a certain time than seven 1-hour video flights that must be done within an hour.

I really liked this client and hope I get more work with them in the future. And I hope they feel the same about me.

I suspect they might.