The Winslow Loop

Satellite PhotoI check out a few points of interest from the air.

As you may have read in another entry, I am addicted to flying. If I don’t get a “fix” every few days, I get crazed. And here at Howard Mesa, where there’s not much else going on to keep me busy, I get crazed a lot easier than I would elsewhere.

Today I decided to make an early morning breakfast run. The destination was Winslow, which has a restaurant at the airport, but there was no reason to go straight there. (Especially since “straight there” would require me to overfly Mt. Kendricks, which is a bit too tall to fly over comfortably.) So I decided to swing north for the flight out and south for the flight back.

I was ready to leave by about 6:30 AM. Horses fed, masked, and sprayed. Dog confined in screened-in room. Bird in cage. iPod, camera, handheld GPS, and decibel meter on board. I started up, warmed up, and took off. I reset the trip computer and track log in my handheld GPS. I just got the GPS for my birthday. It’s a Garmin GPSMap 60c. A bit of a step up from my old GPSMap 12. I wanted it because it could store more maps than the old one and had WAAS capabilities, which could make it more accurate — something I’ll need if I ever get serious about geocaching. I left the GPS on to track my progress. The idea was to transfer the resulting tracklog to my laptop and use Terrabrowser to superimpose it over either a topo map or satellite photos. (I’m writing an article about doing this for Informit.com, so I don’t want to go into any detail here.) Here are the first pass results of this experiment. The white and black areas are ones I didn’t have satellite images cached for. The red letters are referenced throughout; A is my starting point at Howard Mesa.

Red MountainI headed northeast, right into the sun. Not good. I’d forgotten to put my hat on and the sun was shining right in my face, flickering through the blades. (I hate when that happens.) So I moved my headset down around my neck, put my hat on, and then put my headset back over my ears. Doesn’t sound like a big deal, does it? Well, you try to do it with one hand — your left hand. It was worth the struggle, though. The hat shaded my eyes nicely. I hit route 180 and followed it east, toward Flagstaff. I wanted an aerial view of Red Mountain, which I wrote about in another blog entry a few weeks ago. I had my camera and managed to snap two photos. Here’s one of them. Neither really shows the mountain well, but it’s hard to take pictures left-handed while flying a helicopter right toward a mountainside.

Then I headed on a more northerly track. I wanted to intersect with the Little Colorado River, but didn’t want to fly as far as Cameron. The high desert I flew over was deserted — at least at first. Then I flew into the outskirts of the Navajo reservation and began seeing small ranching settlements beneath me. There were some cows, but mostly sheep. The homes out there were picturesque, with rolling green hills all around and a good view of the San Francisco Peaks, which is one of the Navajo’s sacred mountains. I saw round hogans with doors facing east, livestock pens, and outhouses. Life is simpler out there. Way simpler. I crossed highway 89, which runs from Flagstaff to Page, and got into more rugged terrain. There were fascinating rock formations below me and, every once in a while, another Navajo homestead. Then I spotted the Little Colorado River valley. I reached the river and was very disappointed to find it dry. I turned right (B) and followed it toward Winslow.

Little Colorado RiverThis was my second trip along the Little Colorado River. It isn’t a very exciting flight, but it is mildly interesting. There are a few remains of Navajo homesteads and something that looked like an old mine. The highlight, of course, is usually the Grand Falls of the Little Colorado. But without any water falling over the big cliff, it was extremely disappointing. From that point, I headed pretty much straight toward Winslow cutting across the high desert, 300 feet above the ground at 100 knots.

I landed at the airport (C), shut down, and went into town. All that is covered in another entry I wrote earlier today.

After chatting with two guys who had flown in from Redlands, CA to look at a business in Winslow — I can’t imagine what business in Winslow would be worth flying 450 miles in a Cessna to see — I climbed back on board and started up. While I was waiting to warm up, I used my decibel meter to get a reading on the ambient noise level inside the cockpit. About 100 decibels. Not good. I wanted to get a reading because I want to be able to fly with Jack the Dog and Alex the Bird and I’m worried about damaging their hearing. Alex travels in a lucite box and the sound levels are probably lower inside it, but I can’t imagine them being that much lower. Oddly enough, I checked the sound levels again after taking off, at 100% RPM, and they were pretty much the same. I didn’t expect it to get quieter, of course. But I also didn’t expect it to stay the same.

Meteor CraterI headed west along I-40 for a short while, then spotted the “mountain” formed around Meteor Crater and headed straight toward it. I’d tried to get a summer gig at the Crater and they wanted me, but they also wanted $15 million in insurance, which I cannot get. (I don’t know anyone who can, either.) I like to fly over the crater when I’m in the area. I think it’s the best view; about 400 feet above the rim. I circled it once (D) and took a few pictures, then headed back toward I-40 again. I followed I-40 for a while, then decided to follow the traces of old Route 66. I did that past Twin Arrows, Winona, Flagstaff, Belmont, and Parks. It’s interesting the way the road fades in and out of existence along the way.

Grand Canyon RailroadWhen I got close to Williams, I caught sight of the black smoke spit out by the Grand Canyon Railroad’s steam engine. I caught up with it just short of Howard Mesa and managed to take a halfway decent photo of it from the air. (Remember, I’m doing this left-handed, and, in this case, through the passenger side window, while flying a helicopter. So cut me some slack.) Back at Howard Mesa, I followed the state road up to my property. I flew low and slow, trying to check out the road work they’d been doing. They were still working on it. I probably gave the road grader guy a mini heart attack when I passed him 50 feet off the deck about 100 feet to his left at 60 knots. (He’ll have something to tell his wife tonight.) I set down on my pad and shut down. I’d logged 2.1 Hobbs hours and had gotten a good fix.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering about point E on the photo map, that’s the Grand Canyon. I didn’t fly over it, but doesn’t it look cool from space?

Standin’ on a Corner

A trip to Winslow, AZ.

inslow, AZ is a small town on Route 66 (and I-40), about 55 miles east of Flagstaff. It was immortalized in two songs I know of: Route 66 (the old jazz song) and Take It Easy by the Eagles. The Eagles song is the one most folks know about:”I was standin’ on a cornerIn Winslow, Arizona…”Winslow is also home of one of the few remaining transcontinental airports, Winslow-Lindbergh (INW). That’s where I flew into Winslow this morning, looking for breakfast.

I ordered 15 gallons of fuel (at $3.15/gallon from the truck) and got the keys to the courtesy car, a Reliant station wagon. I was told that if it didn’t start up right away, I should give it a lot of gas. It didn’t, so I did. It roared to life, I backed out of the parking spot in front of the airport restaurant (which was closed), and slipped through the automatic gate, on my way to town.

I was going to La Posada for breakfast. Some friends of mine had spent the night at this historic hotel a few weeks before and had nice things to say about it. They had some not-so-nice things to say about it, too. I decided to check it out for myself.

It was about a two-mile drive from the airport to downtown Winslow. La Posada was right there, alongside the railroad tracks. It had once been a Fred Harvey establishment, built specifically for train passengers. That’s why it was right next to the tracks. It doubled as a train station in those days and even had a big platform. Back then, the trains were mainly passenger trains that ran on a specific schedule. Nowadays, the trains are mostly freight trains that run any time of the day or night. That’s what my friends had complained of: train noise during the night. After living for 11 years alongside a Conrail train track in northern New Jersey, staying in the hotel should be a lot like going home.

La PosadaThe hotel wasn’t very impressive from the outside. But step inside and WOW. The restoration work was incredible. Although I didn’t much care for the weird paintings that adorned the walls — paintings that probably have architect and designer Mary Jane Colter spinning in her grave — the place was beautiful.

I made a beeline for the restaurant; I’d been up for 2-1/2 hours and hadn’t eaten a thing so I was starved. The menu was short but full of interesting things. I settled on poached eggs served over a bed of fresh cooked spinach and polenta, topped with Monterey Jack cheese and corn salsa. Excellent! And the latte that accompanied it was big and hot. It was the best breakfast I’d had in a long while. Reminded me why I like to travel. Just can’t get food like that anywhere near home.
La PosadaAfterwards, I explored the place, checking out the various public rooms on the main floor. I had my camera with me and snapped about a dozen photos so I could show Mike what the place was like. Beautifully decorated, beautifully restored. There was a garden in a courtyard out front and a lawn with covered patio in back facing the tracks. It was easy to imagine what staying at this place had been like years ago. I grabbed a brochure, noted the moderate room rates, and decided to talk Mike into making the trip for a weekend stay sometime in the future.

I hopped back into the airport courtesy car and headed back to the airport. But before I left town, I took a quick drive around. I wanted to see the “Standin’ on a Corner” statute the town had erected as a tourist attraction. I’d read that it was right in the center of town, at a park by an intersection. Since Route 66 consists of two one-way streets in Winslow (like it does in Williams), I had to head east before I could head west and then east again. Along the way, I saw far too many empty storefronts with For Rent signs on them. But the saddest thing I saw was the statue: its small park was surrounded by a chain link fence with No Trespassing signs on it. Sure, you could see the statue of the young man with the guitar, but you can’t stand next to it to get your picture taken.

Winslow seemed pretty dead to me, even deader than Wickenburg.

I couldn’t understand it. Winslow has a lot to attract tourists: Route 66, La Posada, and an historic airport. Mention in a popular song and the resulting man-made tourist attraction. I’m sure there are billboards on the freeway reminding people that it’s there.

But there was no one strolling the streets. Even La Posada had seemed pretty empty. And the airport — well, that was a sad statement, too. A big place with multiple runways and a few big hangars. But only a half-dozen planes on the ramp. Heck, the restaurant wasn’t even open.

You’d think that someone could do something to draw people into town, even if they just came through on their way somewhere else. The town is close to Meteor Crater, the Painted Desert, the Petrified Forest, and the Navajo Nation. I-40 goes right through it.

But people on a freeway don’t want to stop when they have someplace more interesting to go — something Wickenburg will learn when the town gets a freeway right through it.

I’ll be back to Winslow, though. There was another dish on La Posada’s breakfast menu that I’d like to try. And freight trains at night don’t bother me at all.