The Alvord Desert

September 2008. With my flying buddy, Steve in his Cessna 150. We departed Chehalis at 2:00 pm on a southeasterly heading for our first stop, The Dalles Oregon. Weather didn’t require us to “Fly the Gorge” which is often used to get past/through the Cascade Range when ceilings are low, our best route took us there. The Gorge can be terrible windy, and care must be taken to watch for power lines, but it’s a good alternative. Winds were strong at The Dalles –with gusts to 24, which is often the case, but fortunately right down the runway.

From there we flew southeast along the eastern side of the Oregon Cascades to Burns OR which is fairly close to middle of the state. We flew over lots of beautiful wild country. It was late enough, at Burns, that dinner and a night in the pilot lounge was the prudent choice. We listened to the tale of the hangar destruction courtesy of a huge helicopter rotor. No people damaged, but one close call from flying debris.

We made a dawn takeoff so we’d be over the Steen Mts, landing in the desert early – always a good idea, and especially so in a 150 with 2 people and camping gear. The terrain we flew over was otherworldly and tortured . The Alvord is a flat stretch about 10 miles long and 4 wide, most of it ideal runway – just pick a direction, any direction. We flew along the west side, with no reason to go above 50 feet so we didn’t. Yippee! What fun! Tearing along to the east, checking our proposed landing area for damp spots, holes and debris then turned and landed. Nothing but sand, sage brush and silence. Nothing could our ears pick up but the faint ticking of the cooling engine. Even the wind was still. Within minutes the sound of an approaching engine caught our attention and we turned to see a jeep crossing toward us. We watched them come, stop about 100 yards away, then turn and leave. What was that about? Then it came to me. They were ground pounders camping on the other side who saw us come in low, then disappear . They were just looking to make sure we hadn’t crashed. Darn nice of them. Only people we saw for the next two days!

The Alvord has no amenities at all. If you need it, bring it in or go without. The peace, beauty and quiet of the dessert were worth the basic living conditions. Make sure you’ve got really GOOD tie downs as sometimes the wind comes up hard. September is a great time of year – still good weather and not too hot. (We had upper 80’s low 90’s). . For those of you who haven’t gone – do it. We loved hiking, exploring and having all that space to ourselves.

There is an airport, Denio Junction (E85) about 35 nm south, dirt runway. The fun is that you land and taxi over to the gas station for mogas, supplies , or a meal at the Café. We didn’t visit, so I cannot provide an opinion.

The ELSA

While at a Fly-In, an aircraft unlike any I had seen before landed…on the taxiway. I was impressed with its ability to land and stop quickly. Later I watched it depart and again the ground run was SHORT. This was my introduction to Ultralights. These are now called E-LSA (Experimental Light Sport Aircraft).
This is the Phantom.

Friends started buying these delightful little aircraft. They looked like a lot of fun. Then Jerry bought an upgraded model and Mike decided to buy his old one – we became the owners of a Flightstar. I thought The ELSA was a good name for her – a long one, because she is so small and has to have something big about her.

My first take-off wasn’t bad but once airborne all that open air rushing by and all that unrestricted view had me thinking. “Okay. Now I’m up here and I have to figure out how to control this thing and how to land!” I’m not going to kid you – it was frightening. The controls are very sensitive and wind has a much stronger effect so a lot more careful corrections are needed. At first I was all over the sky – up down, oops! Left right drat! But within a few minutes things settled down and I managed to relax a little. Then it was time to land as Mike was on the ground anxiously awaiting my safe return. The 100’ wide runway looked huge as it loomed ahead. I decided to focus on one side of it and that worked. I touched down very nicely and applied toe breaks. The ELSA does not have toe brakes, those are rudder pedals only! We made a very sudden left turn onto the grass and came to a stop. Huge sigh of relief. First flight a success. Plane and pilot can both be re-used.

Since then I’ve flown a handful of times. On one flight, a bald eagle approached and paced me just a few feet off my wing for a few heart-racing moments. The ELSA is hard to make consistent take-offs (I’m over correcting). The landings are easy, she likes grass. It’s COLD up there, even though I’ve never gone above 2,000. I always pick a light wind or calm day. Starting her, which is a gut pulling pain, is going to be a lot easier now that I’ve purchased an electric starter. I’ll never be brave enough to fly The ELSA on long trips like one pilot did. This is a great article about Arty and info on her blog.


Me and The ELSA - ready to go!

Southwest Solo

2008. I heard about an airpark in Salome Arizona selling lots cheap. Having become seriously sick and tired of fog, rain and flooding in Washington, a place in the sun sounded mighty good. Several weeks later the plan was in place. I had reserved a room, and arranged for the local dealership to leave a car at the airport in Wickenburg (E25) just a short distance from Salome. A real estate agent was poised to show me several available airpark properties in the general Wickenburg area. Making this trip serve several purposes, I planned a visit to family in Salt Lake and a tourist stop at Bryce Canyon (BCE) on my way south.

Since western Washington weather can be fickle (morning fog) I departed Friday night when it was clear and sunny, making Grant County Regional (GCD) my stop for an overnight in the pilot lounge.


This got me over the Cascades and into good weather from where I made a dawn departure for Salt Lake #2 (U42). This airport has now been, thankfully, renamed to South-Valley Regional which is considerably less confusing. A typical in-pattern call used to be “# 2 Traffic, This is 1234Tango entering the 45 for a left downwind for 34, I’ll be #2 in the downwind, #2.”

The Great Salt Lake and Nephi Valley.

My visit with family was cut short by an unexpected weather change, so I left for Bryce in the afternoon thus suffering a great deal of turbulence. At Bryce the wind was 22 knots gusting to 28, but fortunately right down the runway. Base leg was daunting, landing unexpectedly good. The FBO guy greeted me on the Unicom immediately and came out in the wind to help me secure the plane. I arranged for an overnight at a local spot (Bryce Canyon Pines). They will come and pick you up, just like Ruby’s Inn, but their prices are MUCH lower and the place is peaceful and quiet. Their on-site restaurant offers great home-style meals and delicious pie. Unfortunately I ended up staying 2 nights as wind continued to blow so hard I feared for my planes safety so asked the hotel manager to drive me out to check. Thankfully she was fine, though dancing in the wind and rain, tugging at her tie downs.

Wednesday morning my dawn departure still featured some wind and predicted possible areas of clouds or storms. The air was rough enough that my plan to soar over Bryce Canyon for some photos was reduced to one quick pass. South over the Grand Canyon was breathtaking. VFR flights must stay at 10,500 or 12,500 and cross within specific corridors, but this didn’t prevent me from seeing and photographing some amazing sights. I had to divert more than once on the way to avoid clouds. At one point, slipping between systems, snow appeared. I looked down and saw the fronts of my tires turning white and spent considerable time trying to see if my wings or struts were accumulating ice (white on white – I could not tell!) Here I was over the Grand Canyon with nothing flat anywhere. I must admit that I was seriously concerned. The entire series of events from snow to no-more snow and bright sunshine was just a few minutes, but seemed much longer. Finally south past the Canyon, I made a quick bathroom stop at Seligman (P23) AZ and still wonder if that sudden need had anything to do with snow and fear of ice…probably so!

Wednesday afternoon landed at Wickenburg and called the agent. We agreed to meet at Western Sky Airpark, so I took to the air. Following two drops of a 100 feet, and wind so bad that staying upright was questionable, I decided flying was NOT an option. Truly enjoyed the 50 mile drive to Salome, seeing saguaro cactus for the first time. The airpark didn’t work out (no need to go into details) but I fell in love with Wickenburg. A medium sized town with good basic services, a western feel, and just 45 minute drive out of Phoenix. Unfortunately Arizona didn’t live up to its reputation of sunshine. It rained so hard my stay was again extended due to weather. I’ve lived 57 years in Washington and am familiar with rain, but not Arizona rain. It went from sunshine to streets like rivers in minutes. Gutters overflowed creating waterfalls. I’d never seen anything like it. Not good for flying, but between downpours I explored the town, and surrounding area – enjoying what I found, and vowing to figure out a way to become a “Snowbird.”

Saturday. Finally weather cooperated and I headed NW for home. Past Lake Havasu, stop at Jean (0L7) NV for fuel where a weather check changed my planned route up the east side of the Sierra’s to the southwest instead. The entire Sierra range was clouds and rain and snow. I should note here that this trip took place in late May. I did not expect snow! I followed highway 15 past Barstow, then west to Rosamond, CA (L00) for fuel. Clouds were piled up on the hills to the west, but I took a chance on climbing over the top as the briefer had indicated plenty of holes and good ceilings in the valley past Bakersfield. After flying over the top for an hour and seeing no sign of holes I called the briefer and was told “the only holes I can now see are those back where you came from”. Back to Rosamond. No facilities but a bathroom, and wind so strong that putting up a tent was impossible. I settled in, reading until dark then spending the night in my sleeping bag. High winds had Isabo dancing all night and Cessna 172’s are not comfortable beds, but fortunately I’m able to sleep anywhere.

Sunday. Happy for morning and to be on my way. I flew over the top again, but this time the holes appeared and I was in the clear at Paso Robles (PRB) where I shared the pattern with not one, but two beautiful Stearman bi-planes. Weather check indicated lowering ceilings in central California but the coast was open so I’m off to the northwest past Salinas and then north.

King CityThe coast was beautiful, the flying smooth until just south of San Francisco where ceilings began to lower. I had no problem staying under class B space! Clouds appeared to rise at the entrance to San Francisco Bay so I turned east spotting the Golden Gate Bridge. Wait! Clouds are sitting on top of the bridge, I cannot go under, and over puts me into Class B. Just as I’m about to turn back to my alternate, the clouds slip off to the north and I glide right over the bridge, barely maintaining proper altitude above structures…whew! Here I am flying past San Francisco, taking pictures of Alcatraz and the Bay Bridge. I’d lived here briefly in the early 70’s never dreaming that someday I’d be flying in those skies.

Determined to go north, I found a good opening and made it to Petaluma (O69) where I added fuel and again checked weather ahead. Now the coast is closed in, but I can turn back into the valley where I fly north basically following I-5. Again flying is smooth and I’m seeing new country and spotting airports along the way. It’s not until I pass Redding (RDD) and the Lake Shasta area that clouds and lowering ceilings reappear. I’m familiar with Montague (1O5) so landed there in pouring rain and rapidly diminishing visibility. Safe on the ground, I waited for weather improvement, eventually realizing that I’d be spending the night in their ever so convenient pilot bunkhouse.

A note here on Montague-Yreka airport. It’s a great “old time” airfield. Dave, the airport manager, is warm, welcoming, accommodating and a great guy. Every Saturday morning his wife, Christine, makes fresh homemade cinnamon rolls for any pilots who might be dropping in – and they do! The bunkhouse offers two beds, comfy recliners and TV. There is a bath with shower as well. For a stopover or a weather-in, I cannot recommend this place highly enough. It’s not fancy but you are made to feel like one of the family. I ended up spending three nights there waiting for the Siskiyou Mountains to clear. Dave provided a hangar for Isabo, courtesy car, and even asked me to dinner at his home. Now that is service above and beyond.
















Looking north toward Siskiyou Mts and driving

through, show why no fly!

Wednesday morning I gave in and rented a car, leaving Isabo behind. Disappointing, but having a flying trip end with a rental car is one of the things that VFR pilots need to be willing to do. While my story sounds like I pushed the envelope a few times on this trip, I was very careful to always have an alternate plan, another airport behind or in another direction to which I could deviate. I have established personal minimums and religiously adhere to them. Adventures are not fun if you end up dead.

Meeting a Pilot

This past Sunday (Jan 10) the pilot and author Richard Bach was scheduled to speak at Out of the Blue Aviation at Arlington (AWO) airport. I’d been looking forward to meeting the man (and getting his signature on a few of his books) so awaking to flyable weather was a bonus. A friend of mine, Dick had volunteered to fly us up in his Red and White RV 6a. I’d not flown with Dick so was looking forward to the trip. While I love to fly my own plane best of all, it’s also good to ride with others to learn about their planes and pick up ideas on piloting from another perspective.

We left Chehalis at 10:30, heading northeast with ceilings at near 4000. Found a low layer south of Gray Air Force Base so Flew over the top until it opened up just as we approached Pierce County – Thun Field (PLU). Air was smooth, visibility more than 10 miles.

We stopped at Crest Field (S36) for a visit with friends and family. I hadn’t been into Crest since early 2004 and Dick used to fly out of this field so I appreciated his advice on spotting and approaching. I’ll be visiting here more often since meeting a lovely couple who lives on the field.

Back on our way north, Dick pointed out mountains he had climbed, and where on Tiger Mountain (near Issaquah) the hang gliders launch. We flew up the Carnation valley passing Harvey (S43) on our left and Monroe (W16) on our right. No one was coming or going at either field. Traffic picked up as we approached Arlington, a flock of 7 RV’s coming in just ahead of us. It always amazes me how often RV’s fly in brightly colored flocks .

There was a big crowd at Out of the Blue, both pilots and writers. I had brought along several books (Jonathan Livingston Seagull, Bi-Plane, The Ferrett Chronicles and A Gift of Wings) so qued up. Just as the author was visible and only 5 or 6 people ahead of me the time had arrived for him to speak.
Mr. Bach is an amazing story teller and I for one, could have listened to him for hours and hours. I do not believe I was alone in this. The crowd of about 150 hung on his every word often nodding in agreement. When asked questions about his barnstorming days or favorite warbird he transported us with him as he relived his adventures .

Unfortunately we had to leave early (3:00 pm) as Dick flies out of a short grass strip and he needed to get home well ahead of dark. With Dicks intervention, I did get two books signed so counted the trip a total success.

Our flight home included some occassional light chop – just enough to keep flying interesting. Dick let me handle the stick which was great fun. Those RV’s sure are responsive!

If you should ever get a chance to meet Richard Bach, take it, he’s a fascinating man. If you haven’t read any of his books – start with “A Gift of Wings”.

Back in the Saddle

When one falls off a horse, the saying goes that you should get right back on. So I rented a plane and hired my CFI, Russ to go up with me, as I wasn’t sure how I would react, post-aborted landing and the death of Isabo. The flight went well. I was back home in the air where I belonged.

For about a month I was very busy filling out paperwork and talking to NTSB , FAA and insurance company. I was mourning the loss of a loved one, and packing up her flight logs to send to the insurance company was saying goodbye all over again. My sleep was riddled with dreams replaying the last flight of me and Isabo.

Eventually it was time to shop for a new plane. I knew what I wanted, but the search still took a lot of time and in this I had a very special friend – Steve Thompson. Steve and I had been friends for several years, and it came as no surprise when he offered to fly me to wherever I might need to go to look at prospective planes. Note. The general rule of thumb is to fly no further than a single tank of fuel to buy a new plane – so I kept my search to WA, OR, CA, ID, and northern UT.

After all the trips and phone calls and email exchanges, I found my new plane – just a 10 minute flight away – at the Olympia (OLM) airport. The minute I saw the plane, I knew he was the one. Negotiations over price and a pre-purchase inspection later, on September 17th 2008 at 10:00 in the morning I agreed to purchase a Cessna 182, to take delivery on Friday the 19th.

Allow me to introduce you, my readers, to Path my beautiful boy.


We've been flying together for over a year now, and I have learned his idiosyncrasies, how he sounds, what he likes. We are becoming one with each other and the air. We've been on one big adventure and I have many more planned.

The Story that Must be Told

I am a murderer. I killed Isabo. My precious Cessna 172 that carried me from student to pilot, on adventures through and into 15 states. Now, well over a year later, the proud owner of a new plane, I still mourn my Isabo.

The story is a common one. Pilot error and overconfidence. My daughter Candace and I had been camping at Grand Coulee Dam (3W7) and our planned trip home included a stop at Lake Wenatchee State (27W). We landed at 11:00, ate lunch, took a few photos and prepared for departure. The runway is dirt, gravel and some grass, 2,573 feet. Elevation 1936. All well within the capabilities of my plane.

But it was at this point that the chain of events started gaining links. One. Its now Noon. Two. temp is upper 80’s. Three. Candace is nervous about non-paved field (this is actually an early link that was forged on arrival as I didn’t stop to think that she had never been with me when landing at a non-paved field so landing and taxi to parking was upsetting to her, thus causing me spend too much time assuring her.) Four. I did not walk the field to pick a take-off direction, just noted a limp sock. Five. I did not practice sterile cockpit so babbled constantly during taxi and take-off roll explaining and reassuring my daughter, when my attention should have been solely on piloting. Six. On takeoff roll our speed was not what I would have liked on the rough ground and I could have aborted then, but kept thinking Isabo would gain speed. Seven. I pulled her up into ground effect at 55 knots and we began to climb – a good two thirds of the runway behind us.

Just before we reached field end I realized our climb out was not going to result in enough height to make it over the trees which now loomed like tall mountains ahead. “Shit. We’re not going to make it.” I made the decision to abort the takeoff, pulled power and literally threw the plane onto the ground which resulted in a lot of loud sound and ended with our hanging upside down from our seatbelts.

We were safely on the ground, completely uninjured. Isabo would never fly again.
Date of her purchase: Sunday July 20th, 2003 at Noon. Time of death: Sunday July 20th, 2008 12:30 pm Exactly five years and just minutes apart.

Those of you who have been in any kind of crash know what is like – the feeling of unreality, the what I should have done differently tape replaying. I still second guess myself, and I believe that is good.

New flying policies are in place. One. No conversation with pilot during pre-flight inspection or run up. Two. Sterile cockpit (no talking at all) during take-off’s and landings. To make sure no backsliding happens I look at photos and have included this story in my Blog as a reminder to myself and maybe to others, that Overconfidence is BAD.

Grey Eagles

Some of you may be familiar with the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) and their Young Eagle program. This program is where pilots volunteer their time, skill and aircraft to introduce young people (ages 8-17) to the wonder of flight. I embraced this program and have now flown over 100 missions. That doesn’t include those I’ve taken up who didn’t meet EAA standards for YE flights. As much fun as it is to share aviation with the young, I discovered quite by accident that older folks are as much, or even more fun.

My first senior citizen passengers were two dear ladies (both over 80) who joined me at Hoquiam field. I happened to be there to promote an event at Chehalis airport planned to honor Rosie the Riveters. I announced that any Rosie who wished to fly; I’d be honored to take. These two stood up as if bravely volunteering for combat. “That would be us. We will go.”

As I do with all first-timers, I explained about planes and what to expect and watched amazed as these two climbed into my 172 as if doing so all their lives. (For those who don’t know, climbing into a plane takes a bit of coordination, and physical ability) As we lifted off they bombarded me with excited questions. “Why are we going toward the ocean when we want to fly over town? Is it safe to fly over water? Oh, my. How high are we?” What a treat is was to comfort and educate these ladies who were ecstatic over every bit of knowledge and changing view. That was 2005.

Last Fall I started my Grey Eagle program with Grant, who at 91 also qualified as my oldest passenger.
As you can see by that smile, Grant enjoyed the flight.

Grey Eagles. I’d like to say that the name is mine, but I borrowed it (with permission) from the man who makes sure my plane remains in the air, Wally.
It is my intention to fulfill the wishes or dreams of people over 70 who have never flown, or did long ago and want to relive those good memories. It is my plan to approach retirement and senior centers, starting this Spring, to present my program. We’ll see how it is received.

In case you’re wondering, why – it’s because I truly do believe that my purpose is to share my passion for flight with as many people as possible. Every time I fly someone’s grandmother or grandfather it’s an honorarium to mine who added so much to my life.