Nearly eight decades after Helen Richey became the first female commercial airline pilot, women account for only 5% of membership in the Air Line Pilots Association, and only about 450 women worldwide have risen to the rank of captain.
Now on with the topic…
Springing
April 20th the first day of Spring. Last month my fellow pilot and friend, Judy said, “We should plan a Fly-Out.” So we did. I posted the proposed date and destination – Elma airport. Just 28 miles from my home airport, this is still a good destination as a short flight is better than none. The field is 2,280 x 30, a lot smaller than the airports most of us are used to. Tucked into trees on three sides, it appears to be even tighter. Not a bad thing – a challenge keeps skills sharp or offers the chance to acquire new skills.
Soon momentum began to build. Pilots indicated their desire to attend, a second then third group picked up on the plan and soon we reported to the owner of the Happy Landings Café that she could expect 15 planes to arrive between 11:00 and Noon.
My friend Judy wanted to be the first so she could take photos of planes arriving, so we landed at 10:30. By 11:00 there was a near constant stream of planes announcing their intention to join us. Elma is a sleepy little airport that shares a communication frequency with several other local airports, and few planes visit. When pilots heard all the traffic at Elma they were curious. Plane to plane conversations likely went like this. “Elma traffic – what’s going on over there?.” “Fly-out. We’re all going in for lunch, why not join us?” “I’ll see you on the ground.”
Weather wasn’t as good as we’d expected, with mixed high overcast and some areas of lower clouds. Air was bumpy and the wind, unfortunately was gusty, hard and a few degrees off runway heading.
Needless to say this made for some interesting, amusing and even scary landings. Arrived Pilots and passengers gathered to “score” those coming in. We might laugh at or deride other pilots for less than stellar landings but we’ve all been there, so it’s in good fun. One guy in a very small, one person, open cockpit bi-plane managed three bounces and proudly accepted “worst landings.” He had a lot of competition, as all but 2-3 planes had trouble with the approach over tall trees and managed a bounce or two. Yes, I did have one small bounce. Final count – 21 planes on the ground. Each carried 2 or 3 passengers. One came down from Canada, one up from Oregon. That is a very respectable turnout for a less than stellar flying day.
It was also a LOT more people than the Café was expecting or prepared for. We filled the place, totally overwhelming them.
It was a successful event, lots of happy people sharing a love of flight and good conversation.
On the way home I flew past a local grass strip to show Judy where it is.
Back in 2004 just after my mountain flying training, I landed here and was feeling quite pleased with my skills, prideful even. Then I learned that the owner kept his DC-3 here! Not a big deal to land a 172 with fuselage about the same size as one of the engines on this bird, but I still felt good. For me, it was a challenge well met.
100 years ago the first woman earned a pilot license - Baroness Raymonde de la Roche in France. A year later Harriet Quimby became the first woman pilot in the US. For those who are wondering Amelia Earhart obtained her license in 1922.
Since that first, women have gradually expanded their numbers and hold steady at a mere 6% of licensed pilots. As of 2009 there were 594,285 pilots in the United States, 36,808 of them women – roughly 6%.
As an aviatrix (I think that is such a cool word) I’m passionate about encouraging everyone to fly, but especially women. A sad thing about male pilots is how often their wives have no interest in or flatly refuse to fly with them. Here they are with this wonderful skill to view the world and explore it as few can, and the person they would most like to share it with stays on the ground.
Of course, I would like more women to become pilots, joining me in this sisterhood. But barring that, I want to help them appreciate the joy of flying. To do this I introduce the concept in a way, as a fellow woman, that often encourages them to try flight, sometimes becoming enthusiastic or at least willing to go more often.
Last December I flew woman and girls all afternoon as a part of a program called Fly it Forward. Some were excited, some fearful but brave, some reluctant but going on a dare from a friend. All came away with something. All left something behind too. I flew home with the remembered sounds of their surprise, joy and laughter the brightness of their smiles, giving me wings.
If you’ve ever thought you might like to fly, don’t put it off… go for it. Events are being held all over the country for Centennial of Women in Flight and Fly it Forward…find one near you. Then write and tell me all about your time in the air! Can't find a flight? Email me and I'll help you.
This young woman is learning about pre-flighting before we go up.
Another blogger I follow recently posted about his “Tribe.” I liked this. A tribe for wanderers; people who join together as family because they choose to do so. Then it came to me – I too belong to a tribe.
This past weekend a gathering was held in Puyallup WA. The Northwest Aviation Conference. Two days of everything aviation, except flying, as grey winter skies with snow showers grounded sensible folks. But if you cannot fly, then talking about, learning about, and buying equipment for flying is a decent substitute.
I'd driven to the home of a friend, Judy, who lives on an airstrip near the conference. Her hospitality made it possible to attend both days of the event. In a large building on the Fairgrounds, comfortably out of the weather, were booths offering services, equipment, parts, and wonderful wonderful (expensive) toys. I drooled happily over custom panels, plane covers, and glass panels. Groups were there to sign-up new members and tell about their programs. I talked to the Ninety-Nines, Angel Flight and the Recreation Aviation Foundation.
Both days a wide selection of seminars offered, so many that I had to pick and choose which I wanted to attend most. Below is a video shown at a series of five seminars offered by Lori MacNichol, owner of McCall Mountain/Canyon Flying. This tiny blonde woman probably knows more about flying the back country of Idaho than anyone. She promotes her beloved Idaho and trains pilots to visit these strips so they come back alive. Think I’m exaggerating? Take a look at this video.
Who wants to come along?
The high point of the weekend was socializing with old friends and making new ones. Sat night there was a dinner at a local eatery with the Pacific Northwest Flying Forum. This is a great bunch of pilots that meet online to discuss, learn and share.
My Tribe are a wonderful bunch of Type A personalities!
Day One of a three-day weekend and a miracle. Blue skies. Wind is 14 gusting to 22 at 9 degrees off runway heading. Pretty gusty on the ground, wind trying to tear the hangar doors right out of my hand. Good thing Gordon was along to help corral the doors. I’d noted Mount St Helens standing out boldly in the clear from my home so had invited Gordon and his wife Irene to visit the mountain. With gusty winds we wouldn’t be able to get close, but that’s okay, going to say hello anyhow.
Just as I finished my run-up at the end of 34, in came a 172 that was clearly working to stay ahead of the winds. Crabbed and making several adjustments. This told me the flight would offer some challenges and I put it in my mind to be aware that my lady passenger was new to small aircraft flying. I need not have been concerned. Irene took to flying like she’d done it all her life.
It was my intention to fly down to, and then past the mountain, remaining alert for wind shear or downdrafts and staying well away from her glistening sides. But as we approached, flying over the foothills at 6,500 - no bounce. Glass smooth.
I ventured closer, right toward her open throat. At 4 miles from her broken rim, I cautiously turned east to test her mood and found perfectly smooth air – glass it remained. I turned and flew straight into her caldera, then right over the venting dome and across to the other side. Still the air is glass. Never before have I found there to be no winds, drafts, turbulence anywhere over or around this mountain. Never in 7 years of visits. Today was one in hundreds and I took full advantage, passing over and around in every direction and height. Path and I played with Saint Helen. Down into the Caldera, right through the steam venting from her building dome, then up and over a low point in the jagged rim with edges soaring above us on each side. With every turn Gordon, Irene or I called attention to new eye-popping views. Mt. Adams to the east, Hood to the south. Expanses of snow marked with tracks of snow mobiles. A snow clad waterfall fed by steam melted snow. Spirit Lake and Mt Rainier to the North.
Then I spotted, on her south flank, what appeared to be a string of rocks, perhaps the spine of a ridge poking through the snow. But wait! I know this mountain and no such a ridge exists. I fly closer and slower and then I see.
“Look! It’s a string of hikers climbing the mountain!” “Look. There, at the top edge of the rim, see a whole crowd of them.” Another first – I’d seen snowmobilers buzzing up this side and right up to the rim, but never hikers. We just had to go around and come back past them several times to be sure we got a good photo. Finally after nearly an hour of discovery, I turned Path away and we flew down to the valley floor following the path of the mud flows as I pointed out still standing blasted trees and the re-routed Toutle River.
some of the photos we took were good, but I would have dearly loved to have a real photographer with us on this flight.
I discovered this product a few years ago from a magazine that mysteriously arrived in the mailbox. Being female, I had to wander through its pages. Spotted this item called Cab Commander and immediately realized it was exactly what I needed to organize my cockpit. Most of my flights, especially cross country, I’m alone. All those bits and pieces and charts are hard to corral, particularly if bouncy out.
Introducing the Cockpit Commander (my renaming)
Hanging on the co-pilot seat, everything I need is at my fingertips. Backup GPS, hand-held radio, pen, highlighter, spare batteries, laptop, cell phone, sectional charts (all folded and in order of need). When I’m flying with a co-pilot I simply hang it behind either seat – still accessible. It’s well worth the $35.00 price tag. Go to Duluth Trading if you’re interested.
This one is mine, sitting on a spare seat in the hangar. Couldn’t get a clear photo with it in the plane.
The only thing that could have made this past weekend any better was if I’d won the lottery too!
Saturday I started out walking and just kept going, uphill and down and up again achieving a whole new record, seven miles!
Sunday I took two Grey Eagles up. Meet Jean and Gordon. (That's me in the middle. Nick, the Airport dog saying hello) Jean had not flown in a small plane before, but knew she would like it – and she did. Gordon had quite a bit of experience in GA planes including flights while he worked oil and mining around the country, but it had been awhile and he was thrilled to see his local area from the air.
We left Chehalis Airport (CLS) departing runway 16. Followed I-5 south to fly a circle over Gordon’s home, then turned SE for a look at Mt St Helens. There was a cloud layer just above the foothills, so I flew up a valley between two ridges and into open air over Johnston Ridge which lies directly north of Helens and took the brunt of her eruption. This is where the visitor observation and interpretative center sits and we noted that roads to it were buried in snow. The mountain itself showed in tantalizing glimpses as we flew across her face. I would have loved to get a picture of the caldera through a cloud window, but there was just enough turbulence to make photo taking an unwise choice.
Both passengers had many questions about planes and piloting and places I’d flown to. They were especially impressed with the freedom that GA pilots enjoy. Gordon liked the idea of “no speed limit”. He regaled us with tales of other flights and sights seen as we turned east and descended out of the hills into the valley leading to White Pass. Over the small town of Randle, we turned back west and overflew Rife and Mayfield Lakes on our way back home. Seniors are my favorite passengers; it was rewarding to get to know them and share a lovely hour of sightseeing.
Path is back in his hangar. I hurried to the airport on Tuesday to make what I call a shakedown flight. I always do this following an annual, to make sure everything is just right. It felt so good to be back in the air, where I belong. One of the reasons that repairs on that Turn Coordinator were so expensive is because it has a connection to the auto pilot. I was told the auto pilot didn’t work when I bought the plane, but it didn’t matter to me as I prefer hand-flying anyway. Apparently this failing coordinator was the problem. I now have an operational auto pilot – bonus! I expect to continue doing most of my flying without mechanical help, but just once in a while it might be useful. After making five touch n go’s and seeing what it was like to act like a passenger while the plane flew itself, I made my final landing (which was near perfect) and put 45 minutes in my log book. All was well with plane and pilot. Good weather predicted for next day, ready for a real flight.
Wednesday morning started out with heavy fog – ¼ mile visibility on the ground. Just to the north – clear, blue and sunshine; same to the south. Frustrating and so typical. Then between 10:30 and 10:50 poof! – fog gone – It’s Mother Nature’s magic trick. I filled out paperwork for an hour’s vacation and thought about to where I would fly when 4:00 came around.
I’ve flown around every bit of Mt Rainier on many flights, yet the pull she exerts is strong. I announced my intention to depart the runway with a turnout to the east and as soon as we were high enough– there she was. Brilliant white in the lowering sun, sharply outlined against blue blue sky. “Here I come Lady Tahoma, will you welcome me today?”
Mount Tahoma was her original name, and a glacier and small peak on her southeast side still retain these names in the form of Tahoma Glacier and Little Tahoma. The welcome I was inquiring about is my own way of describing flight conditions near mountains. Sometimes wind and air are smooth and soft and the mountain seems to say “Welcome. Come and fly as close as you wish.” On those days my plane skims her ridges, soaring softly over her glaciers so closely I can see blue ice. Her massive bulk fills my windows completely. Other times as we climb up to her feet, as a gnat to an elephant, she sternly rebuffs our overture with a slap of wind and turbulence. At those times, I turn quickly away and admire her from a distance. This was one of those times, I had to be content with a cautious circumnavigation that still provided me with some sights so beautiful, incredible, lovely that I need another language to use that has more superlatives to accurately describe. These photos can only hint at what it feels like to pilot your plane past this Lady with the setting sun glowing behind her. Now this last shot is something I'd not seen before. It's the shadow of Mt Rainier reflecting on the haze to the east!
It was a successful event, lots of happy people sharing a love of flight and good conversation.
On the way home I flew past a local grass strip to show Judy where it is.
Not a big deal to land a 172 with fuselage about the same size as one of the engines on this bird, but I still felt good. For me, it was a challenge well met.
