Below, I made a post about some pilots who came to work for us up in Washington this past summer, and how some of them didn't work out. I do try to be accurate and fair in my writing, but sometimes it's tough to report on events when you hear things third-hand. The guy I referred to as "Pilot D" replied, giving me his version of what went down.
What does this all mean to you, the reader? Very simply, clear communication is the key to happiness in life. If you enter into an agreement with someone, make damn sure that the terms are fully understood by everyone involved. Get it in writing if possible (an email is okay). Because when things blow up, as they sometimes do, the whole "he said/she said" thing gets mighty old for those of us who are not the original he and she.
Here is "Pilot D's" response, and my response to his response:
Pilot "D" here. Sorry Bob your account is not accurate as it pertains to my relationship with Golden Wings Aviation. To start off, I never mentioned pay once. Not once. I made the mistake to assume that what had been previously agreed upon during phone conversation, was being paid when I got there and getting the required 5 hours for PIC. Things went off the rails on the 3rd day of flying at around 4 hours in the cockpit Davey tells me how, and I quote "Dad was grumpy this morning and wasn't going to start paying me until I was put online as a pilot." Whatever that means. I told him I don't work for free and if they want to keep me you're going to have to pay me. At no time did he express that they were unhappy with my flying. After that I never heard from anyone, not to stay on or even an apology for wasting my time and money getting there. I only spoke with Davey, and negotiated the terms before coming up plain and simple. Now he wants to blame someone else for going back on his word? Its AMATEUR HOUR with those guys. I've invested too much time and money to not be paid for what I do. Any other career that expects that? No. Pilots are there own worst enemy when it comes to pay like we don't deserve to make at least a modest living. Its bullshit.
Pilot D! How happy I am that you responded. See, I've only heard two sides of this fiasco: The Smith's side and what I've heard from Mikey. I had not heard directly from you, and I appreciate that you took the time to give us your input.
But let's get a few things straight.
1) You may have negotiated the terms of employment with Davy (which is also what I heard), but as everyone knows - and I'm sure Mikey told you - it is Senior who writes and signs the checks. To say you were unaware of this, or that Davy can act unilaterally is silly. Everything Davy told you came straight from Dave Senior.
2) You believe that your pay was supposed to start when you got there. For his part, Davy *swears* that he told you on the phone that your pay would start when you got checked-out in the S-55, which it turned out was going to happen on the first day of drying: Tuesday morning (your fourth day at Golden Wings). I've known Davy long enough that I believe him.
3) You may have had that conversation about not working for free on the third day of your training (that would have been Monday). If you had decided to draw your "line in the sand" then (as we suspect) you should have left at that point. But you did not, did you? No.
According to Mark and Danny, the FACT is that you had another confrontation with Davy on *TUESDAY* morning just before going out to dry for real - which would have been your first day of work. Instead you refused to go flying and walked off the job. You told Mark to grab his headset, that he could fly with Davy, and then you went in and packed your stuff, never to be seen again.
3) You're right that pilots should be expected to be paid to fly. The company recognizes that there is quite a bit of expense involved in just getting to Brewster for a part-time summer job. (It cost me nearly $500 in gas/food/lodging just to get home to Florida this week.)
But companies should not be expected to invest a bunch of money in pilots who don't end up checking-out. For instance, Golden Wings paid, fed and housed those other two pilots for an ENTIRE MONTH and neither of them checked-out. I can assure you that won't happen in the future - not with you, me, or anyone else.
(And by the way, Pilot B is still there, living in the Smith's pilot quarters and eating their food.)
The way I see it, you threw away a month or so of work for $450. If that seems like a fair trade to you, so be it. It doesn't to me. The Smiths have a reputation of helping people- not screwing them. (Ask Mikey if he intends to ever repay the 50 gallons of jet fuel that he "borrowed" from them when he was low. Or did he "forget?" What is jet fuel these days, $5.00 per gallon?)
Dave Senior is one of the most generous, kind-hearted men I know. He's treated me wonderfully. He's treated Mark wonderfully. Golden Wings took Mikey in and treated him like one of their own, giving him unrestricted access to their facilities, and inviting him to events (restaurant lunches) and barbecues at the hangar that nobody else got invited to. But I'm sure Mikey will only see the things *he* did for Golden Wings - because in his worldview he only sees the things he does for other people and usually discounts or ignores the things people do for him (like ohhhh, loaning him money repeatedly and let him and his dog live with them rent-free).
I have no doubt...in fact I guarantee!...that Dave Senior would have paid you for your first three days of training. And he probably would have paid to have the brakes on your truck fixed. Yeah, he's like that.
Your problem (and Mikey's problem as well) all seem to center around Davy. You guys don't like him? Fine. You want to make him the bad guy here? Hey, if you need to feel good about your decisions and actions, go for it. But by doing so you messed-up big time. You and Mikey both did. Making a pay demand at 6:00 in the morning and then walking off the job was simply unprofessional, man. Call it what you want, but that is what happened and it is what it is.
More than that, you made Mikey look bad too.
No, Golden Wings is not PHI. But calling it "amateur hour" is unfair. On Monday, after that conversation with Davy, you could have come to Danny...or me...or Mark...or even Senior(!) and asked what's up? But no, you just got pissed and decided right then that you weren't going to stay. That much is obvious. Oh well. If the company did not live up to your standards and expectations, what can I say? Perhaps there are other, better, less-amateurish companies that will appreciate your 1,200 hours of flight time and A&P ratings.
I may be wrong, but the way I see it is this: You came up to Brewster with the attitude and assumption that "something" would go wrong...that you were going to get screwed. And, self-fulfilling prophecies being what they are...you did. At least in your mind.
The reason I'm even putting all of this bullshit up on the blog is because I believe in communication, and I believe that there is "more to the story" here. There's another factor...an agenda that I'm missing. Maybe you didn't like flying the S-55. Maybe you just dislike Davy so much that you couldn't see sticking around and working with him. I don't know.
I'm really, really sorry that it worked out the way it did for everyone involved. I was truly looking forward to hanging out with you, having fun, eating some great food and going for some kick-ass motorcycle rides. And in the end, all I can do is wish you luck wherever life takes you next.
Oh, and next time, get it in writing.
Who Am I?
- Bob Barbanes:
- A nobody; a nitwit; a pilot; a motorcyclist; a raconteur; a lover...of life - who loves to laugh, who tries to not take myself (or anything) too seriously...just a normal guy who knows his place in the universe by being in touch with my spiritual side. What more is there?
12 August 2012
03 August 2012
Recommendations
Recommending someone for a job is always risky. What if it doesn’t work out? It can make you look bad. This summer, both my friend Mikey and I recommended a total of four pilots for the job of cherry-drying, and only one of them worked out.
In the first case I’d known “Pilot A” from online helicopter forums for years…literally since the late 1990’s. I knew that he had quite a lot of flight time: 11,000+ hours in fact in both airplanes and helicopters. Although he had not flown since 2008, that should not have been a problem. The guy claimed to be the best pilot this side of Chuck Yeager. I like confidence in a pilot. But there’s a flip side to that: you actually have to be good as well. With this guy’s experience, I assumed that he was, and that he would check out in the S-55 easily.
The other guy, “Pilot B” was Mikey’s very first flight instructor. Mike had spoken to me about him before, and regarded him highly. This guy’s total flight time was relatively low (just under 1,000 hours) but the good news was that all his time was in piston-engine helicopters which are “harder” to fly than turbines. (See, in a piston helicopter the pilot usually has to manipulate the throttle to match the engine r.p.m. to the power demand. In turbines, the engine r.p.m. is governed automatically, reducing the pilot's workload.) The trouble was, “B” hadn’t flown since 2009. Still, Mike assured me that he could do the job with minimal training.
I had also recommended a third pilot, a low-time young guy I sort of knew from Facebook who seemed very well-respected by some heavy-hitters in the “Utility” end of our industry. (Word of mouth, baby!) But initially he was only to function as a copilot this season, not as full PIC.
We all showed up in Brewster, Washington around the first of June. Right off the bat, two of the new potential PIC’s had problems. You expect pilots who haven’t flown in some time to be rusty. But you also expect that they’ll pick it up quickly and get back in the groove. The first guy, “A” not only didn’t get his groove back, but he made our chief flight instructor doubt whether he had as much helicopter flight time as stated on his resume. He was rough. This was not looking good.
Generously, Mikey immediately took his old friend, “B” up in the Bell 206 first so he could get his “sea legs” back before even flying the old Sikorsky. However as with pilot “A” the results were not so good. Even though “B” had never flown a JetRanger before, it is – come on now – one of the easiest helicopters to fly. “B” was more than just rusty. Plus, he was (and is) timid to the point of making us doubt his self-confidence. There’s a fine line that pilots must walk between being overly conservative and too arrogant; this pilot was way too far on the “conservative” side. And yes, there is such a thing.
Granted, in their defense neither “A” nor “B” got much time with us on any given flight. The hops were short. But still, neither of the guys was progressing at any reasonable rate. With such experience levels, they “should” have been doing better. In the helicopters’ defense, they are not incredibly difficult to fly – they’re “old school” in many respects (okay, in every respect) but we’re just hovering, fer cryin’ out loud. They fly like every other piston-engine helicopter. From very early on we had our doubts as to whether either of these guys would check out as PIC (pilot in command). They both made reasonable-sounding excuses for their performance, complaining about this or that.
After a month of feeding, housing and paying them, the owner of the company finally had to let both of them go. “A” left to go home, while “B” stayed on as an unsalaried “copilot” for the experience and the fun. And who knows, maybe he’ll improve enough to be a PIC next season. Now here’s where it gets weird.
We still needed two pilots, so the company asked Mikey to reach out to another friend of his whom we all know. This guy (“Pilot D”) is both a certified mechanic and pilot, and has more than enough experience to do this job. But could he fly? We’d have to find out.
“D” bargained hard for, and got a higher pay rate than a standard first-season cherry-drying pilot; higher than I got my first season. Hey, more power to him. But that higher pay came with a catch: He had to be “shit-hot” on the controls.
“D” showed up on Saturday and began training almost immediately. I was happy to see him here. As I said, I knew him and I liked him. Plus, he brought his motorcycle up with him and I figured we’d be doing some riding on the nice, no-fly days of which we have many.
On Tuesday morning we were called to go dry cherries. “D” showed up at the base and immediately confronted Davy, the son of the owner of the company and the pilot “D” would be flying with that day. (If all went well during that first period, Davy was going to turn “D” loose to fly the machine by himself for the rest of the day.) But before they could even strap-in, “D” demanded to know that he would be getting paid from the day he got there (Saturday, only three days prior). Davy says that he told “D” that was not their deal, but in any case he should take it up with the owner – who happened to be away that day on a trip. “D” drew a line in the sand, saying that he was a professional pilot and that he didn’t fly unless he got paid. With that, he turned around and walked off the job.
We were baffled. Dave Senior, the owner of the company had been around all weekend. We were all at a big steak barbecue at his house on Sunday afternoon, and then he left on a trip late Monday evening. If “D” had an issue or question about his pay, he should have addressed it with Dave Senior while he was there, instead of bringing it up with the son right before they were to go flying. It seemed strange and, well, somewhat unprofessional. But as Mikey likes to say, it is what it is.
On the other hand, I’m happy to report that Pilot “C” turned out to be an exceptionally talented pilot. We gave him some extra training and he checked-out in the S-55 as a PIC with no problemo. He flew the second ship on my contract. (Check out my Facebook page for pictures and videos of him.) But we were still short one pilot…kind of. (Dave Senior would rather have stayed in the office and coordinate than have to go out flying.)
Needless to say, Mikey and I feel terrible. But that’s what happens when you recommend someone for a job. I can’t say I’ll never do it again, but it sure sucks when it doesn’t work out.
In the first case I’d known “Pilot A” from online helicopter forums for years…literally since the late 1990’s. I knew that he had quite a lot of flight time: 11,000+ hours in fact in both airplanes and helicopters. Although he had not flown since 2008, that should not have been a problem. The guy claimed to be the best pilot this side of Chuck Yeager. I like confidence in a pilot. But there’s a flip side to that: you actually have to be good as well. With this guy’s experience, I assumed that he was, and that he would check out in the S-55 easily.
The other guy, “Pilot B” was Mikey’s very first flight instructor. Mike had spoken to me about him before, and regarded him highly. This guy’s total flight time was relatively low (just under 1,000 hours) but the good news was that all his time was in piston-engine helicopters which are “harder” to fly than turbines. (See, in a piston helicopter the pilot usually has to manipulate the throttle to match the engine r.p.m. to the power demand. In turbines, the engine r.p.m. is governed automatically, reducing the pilot's workload.) The trouble was, “B” hadn’t flown since 2009. Still, Mike assured me that he could do the job with minimal training.
I had also recommended a third pilot, a low-time young guy I sort of knew from Facebook who seemed very well-respected by some heavy-hitters in the “Utility” end of our industry. (Word of mouth, baby!) But initially he was only to function as a copilot this season, not as full PIC.
We all showed up in Brewster, Washington around the first of June. Right off the bat, two of the new potential PIC’s had problems. You expect pilots who haven’t flown in some time to be rusty. But you also expect that they’ll pick it up quickly and get back in the groove. The first guy, “A” not only didn’t get his groove back, but he made our chief flight instructor doubt whether he had as much helicopter flight time as stated on his resume. He was rough. This was not looking good.
Generously, Mikey immediately took his old friend, “B” up in the Bell 206 first so he could get his “sea legs” back before even flying the old Sikorsky. However as with pilot “A” the results were not so good. Even though “B” had never flown a JetRanger before, it is – come on now – one of the easiest helicopters to fly. “B” was more than just rusty. Plus, he was (and is) timid to the point of making us doubt his self-confidence. There’s a fine line that pilots must walk between being overly conservative and too arrogant; this pilot was way too far on the “conservative” side. And yes, there is such a thing.
Granted, in their defense neither “A” nor “B” got much time with us on any given flight. The hops were short. But still, neither of the guys was progressing at any reasonable rate. With such experience levels, they “should” have been doing better. In the helicopters’ defense, they are not incredibly difficult to fly – they’re “old school” in many respects (okay, in every respect) but we’re just hovering, fer cryin’ out loud. They fly like every other piston-engine helicopter. From very early on we had our doubts as to whether either of these guys would check out as PIC (pilot in command). They both made reasonable-sounding excuses for their performance, complaining about this or that.
After a month of feeding, housing and paying them, the owner of the company finally had to let both of them go. “A” left to go home, while “B” stayed on as an unsalaried “copilot” for the experience and the fun. And who knows, maybe he’ll improve enough to be a PIC next season. Now here’s where it gets weird.
We still needed two pilots, so the company asked Mikey to reach out to another friend of his whom we all know. This guy (“Pilot D”) is both a certified mechanic and pilot, and has more than enough experience to do this job. But could he fly? We’d have to find out.
“D” bargained hard for, and got a higher pay rate than a standard first-season cherry-drying pilot; higher than I got my first season. Hey, more power to him. But that higher pay came with a catch: He had to be “shit-hot” on the controls.
“D” showed up on Saturday and began training almost immediately. I was happy to see him here. As I said, I knew him and I liked him. Plus, he brought his motorcycle up with him and I figured we’d be doing some riding on the nice, no-fly days of which we have many.
On Tuesday morning we were called to go dry cherries. “D” showed up at the base and immediately confronted Davy, the son of the owner of the company and the pilot “D” would be flying with that day. (If all went well during that first period, Davy was going to turn “D” loose to fly the machine by himself for the rest of the day.) But before they could even strap-in, “D” demanded to know that he would be getting paid from the day he got there (Saturday, only three days prior). Davy says that he told “D” that was not their deal, but in any case he should take it up with the owner – who happened to be away that day on a trip. “D” drew a line in the sand, saying that he was a professional pilot and that he didn’t fly unless he got paid. With that, he turned around and walked off the job.
We were baffled. Dave Senior, the owner of the company had been around all weekend. We were all at a big steak barbecue at his house on Sunday afternoon, and then he left on a trip late Monday evening. If “D” had an issue or question about his pay, he should have addressed it with Dave Senior while he was there, instead of bringing it up with the son right before they were to go flying. It seemed strange and, well, somewhat unprofessional. But as Mikey likes to say, it is what it is.
On the other hand, I’m happy to report that Pilot “C” turned out to be an exceptionally talented pilot. We gave him some extra training and he checked-out in the S-55 as a PIC with no problemo. He flew the second ship on my contract. (Check out my Facebook page for pictures and videos of him.) But we were still short one pilot…kind of. (Dave Senior would rather have stayed in the office and coordinate than have to go out flying.)
Needless to say, Mikey and I feel terrible. But that’s what happens when you recommend someone for a job. I can’t say I’ll never do it again, but it sure sucks when it doesn’t work out.
27 July 2012
Winding Down
We’re almost done up here in Washington. I can’t believe that it’s almost time to go home. This season sped by. Last year I got up here in the middle of May, only about a week earlier than this year. And the time passed slowly. It seemed that we were always doing fun stuff: going up to Soap Lake, either by land vehicle or helicopter; going tubing down the Methow River; watching the hydroplane races...and of course we hung around the bakery a lot, ate a lot of pizza and drank a lot of wine. (And I rode my motorcycle more last year.) This year we hardly did any of that. Where has the time gone? How does that happen?
This season not only started early, but we’ve flown a lot more this year too. In fact, I flew more just in July of this year than I did all of June, July and August of last year (which was admittedly dry). With the increased flying comes a lot of other tasks concerning the servicing and maintaining of the helicopters and equipment. So there’s been a lot more to do all around.
The contract for my ship was up as of yesterday (same as last year). The second ship will go to the end of the month, perhaps a bit longer. So I’ll stick around and fly with Taylor, the other pilot who is in his first season as a cherry-dryer…if we fly at all, that is. The forecast doesn’t call for much rain between now and the end of the month.
It’s been a very uneventful season, and we are thankful for that. We’ve had no major breakdowns or calamities. Knock on wood though!
I really like it up here. Last year I hung around way past the end of the season, well into the middle of September. This year there is no hurry to get home either, although I am looking forward to riding the motorcycle back. Yet at the same time I’m ambivalent. It’s going to be a hot ride, especially considering the southern route I’m taking home. The longer I stay, the cooler it’ll be. More and more, “September” seems like an attractive departure date.
This season not only started early, but we’ve flown a lot more this year too. In fact, I flew more just in July of this year than I did all of June, July and August of last year (which was admittedly dry). With the increased flying comes a lot of other tasks concerning the servicing and maintaining of the helicopters and equipment. So there’s been a lot more to do all around.
The contract for my ship was up as of yesterday (same as last year). The second ship will go to the end of the month, perhaps a bit longer. So I’ll stick around and fly with Taylor, the other pilot who is in his first season as a cherry-dryer…if we fly at all, that is. The forecast doesn’t call for much rain between now and the end of the month.
It’s been a very uneventful season, and we are thankful for that. We’ve had no major breakdowns or calamities. Knock on wood though!
I really like it up here. Last year I hung around way past the end of the season, well into the middle of September. This year there is no hurry to get home either, although I am looking forward to riding the motorcycle back. Yet at the same time I’m ambivalent. It’s going to be a hot ride, especially considering the southern route I’m taking home. The longer I stay, the cooler it’ll be. More and more, “September” seems like an attractive departure date.
22 July 2012
More Cherry-Drying Antics
Whoa, it’s been fun! It had rained most of the day on Friday, and we didn’t get started drying until late. Thus, we’d all flown right to sunset…and I mean it was dark-DARK out by the time I got back to our LZ. By the time we got the birds tied down, fueled and oiled it was after eleven. Not having had supper, Taylor and I grabbed a quick bite. We got to bed around midnight, thinking that the cherries were dry and the skies were clearing and there’s no way we’d be flying in the morning. Oh yeah? Saturday morning our farm manager woke me up out of a sound sleep at 6:00 a.m. They were still wet. Heavy dew or something. Whatever.
It was an odd day. Looking north, it was all cloudy and foggy in the tops of the hills. Looking south it was "clear-blue-and 22," just glorious. I was struck by the incongruity of it...how the kind of day you were having depended on which way you were going in the orchard...and mentioned it on the radio. (All of us in the company monitor a “discrete” frequency so we can talk to each other in semi-private.) Danny, who was drying nearby for another customer chimed in, “Well, I guess the day is either half-cloudy or half-sunny…your choice.” To which I replied, “Well I’m a day-half-sunny kind of guy!” {Rimshot} Oh, I crack myself up. Which caused me to spew a whole series of one-liners about cherry-drying, exactly none of which got so much as an “LOL” from any of the other pilots. Not even the "double-mic-click" acknowledgment which is a pilot's way of wordlessly saying, "Okay, I get it, now shut up."
Oh, I’m DRYING these cherries all right! I’m hovering so low that I’m reaching out and shaking the tops of the trees by hand! (See, smaller helicopters have to hover with their skids down in the trees; we don’t hover that low in the…oh nevermind, you had to be there.)
Ah well… Finally I keyed the mic and in my best Rodney Dangerfield voice I said, “I gotta tell ya, tough room!” Meh- I guess they were all pretty spaced from being up so late the night before. But I was psyched and having fun.
The fields we dry up here are all “netted.” That is, the orchard owner covers the entire tract with a huge net to keep the birds out. See here.
Netting makes my job easier. Here’s why. As we dry, we fly down the “lane” between two rows of trees. At the end of the tract, we make a turn, move over four rows and come back the other way. Counting four rows might not seem hard, and it’s not really, but sometimes it’s easy to turn into the third or fifth lane especially if I’m turning to the left. I sit on the right and it’s hard to see out to the left.
With the nets. I simply count over four rows and say to myself, “First row beyond the seam.” And me being me, of course I start singing that old Bobby Darin tune, “Beyond The Sea” which goes:
Somewhere beyond the sea
Somewhere waiting for me
My lover stands on golden sands
And watches the ships
That go sailing
Only my version goes:
First row, beyond the seam
The cherries waiting for me
They got so wet under the net
How happy we’ll be
When we’re drying
But I get tired of singing that song over and over, so I switch to another oldie, this one from a couple of guys called Brewer and Shipley who had a hit in 1971 with a catchy little ditty called, “One Toke Over The Line.”
One toke over the line, sweet Jesus
One toke over the line
Sitting downtown in a railway station
One toke over the line
(No, I have no earthly idea how that song got played on Top-40 radio in 1971, but it did.)
My version goes:
One row over the line, sweet cherries
One row over the line
Flying down the rows in the cherry orchard
One row over the line
I’ll spare you the other lame-ass songs I came up with to pass the time.
Word came over the radio that we were having a barbecue at the airport in the afternoon. So after I got done drying I rolled the Sportster out and rode it the twenty or so miles down. The company gave me a pickup truck to drive this year...and...I have to admit I haven't been riding as much as I'd like. But man, I’ll tell you, I love that bike! I think I love riding motorcycles almost as much as I love flying – and that’s saying something. We all hung out, ate some great steaks, and talked flying and motorcycles for the whole afternoon. We laughed and made a ton of jokes (many at my expense, which I do not mind). Such good fellowship. Such good people I work with! It was one of the best days I’ve had since coming up here this season, and that’s saying something!
I love my life :)
It was an odd day. Looking north, it was all cloudy and foggy in the tops of the hills. Looking south it was "clear-blue-and 22," just glorious. I was struck by the incongruity of it...how the kind of day you were having depended on which way you were going in the orchard...and mentioned it on the radio. (All of us in the company monitor a “discrete” frequency so we can talk to each other in semi-private.) Danny, who was drying nearby for another customer chimed in, “Well, I guess the day is either half-cloudy or half-sunny…your choice.” To which I replied, “Well I’m a day-half-sunny kind of guy!” {Rimshot} Oh, I crack myself up. Which caused me to spew a whole series of one-liners about cherry-drying, exactly none of which got so much as an “LOL” from any of the other pilots. Not even the "double-mic-click" acknowledgment which is a pilot's way of wordlessly saying, "Okay, I get it, now shut up."
Oh, I’m DRYING these cherries all right! I’m hovering so low that I’m reaching out and shaking the tops of the trees by hand! (See, smaller helicopters have to hover with their skids down in the trees; we don’t hover that low in the…oh nevermind, you had to be there.)
Ah well… Finally I keyed the mic and in my best Rodney Dangerfield voice I said, “I gotta tell ya, tough room!” Meh- I guess they were all pretty spaced from being up so late the night before. But I was psyched and having fun.
The fields we dry up here are all “netted.” That is, the orchard owner covers the entire tract with a huge net to keep the birds out. See here.
Here's a screen-grab from my GoPro camera. (Click on it to make it bigger.) That's me drying one our netted tracts. See how the netting is broken up by those big parallel seams? Read on...
Netting makes my job easier. Here’s why. As we dry, we fly down the “lane” between two rows of trees. At the end of the tract, we make a turn, move over four rows and come back the other way. Counting four rows might not seem hard, and it’s not really, but sometimes it’s easy to turn into the third or fifth lane especially if I’m turning to the left. I sit on the right and it’s hard to see out to the left.
With the nets. I simply count over four rows and say to myself, “First row beyond the seam.” And me being me, of course I start singing that old Bobby Darin tune, “Beyond The Sea” which goes:
Somewhere beyond the sea
Somewhere waiting for me
My lover stands on golden sands
And watches the ships
That go sailing
Only my version goes:
First row, beyond the seam
The cherries waiting for me
They got so wet under the net
How happy we’ll be
When we’re drying
But I get tired of singing that song over and over, so I switch to another oldie, this one from a couple of guys called Brewer and Shipley who had a hit in 1971 with a catchy little ditty called, “One Toke Over The Line.”
One toke over the line, sweet Jesus
One toke over the line
Sitting downtown in a railway station
One toke over the line
(No, I have no earthly idea how that song got played on Top-40 radio in 1971, but it did.)
My version goes:
One row over the line, sweet cherries
One row over the line
Flying down the rows in the cherry orchard
One row over the line
I’ll spare you the other lame-ass songs I came up with to pass the time.
Word came over the radio that we were having a barbecue at the airport in the afternoon. So after I got done drying I rolled the Sportster out and rode it the twenty or so miles down. The company gave me a pickup truck to drive this year...and...I have to admit I haven't been riding as much as I'd like. But man, I’ll tell you, I love that bike! I think I love riding motorcycles almost as much as I love flying – and that’s saying something. We all hung out, ate some great steaks, and talked flying and motorcycles for the whole afternoon. We laughed and made a ton of jokes (many at my expense, which I do not mind). Such good fellowship. Such good people I work with! It was one of the best days I’ve had since coming up here this season, and that’s saying something!
I love my life :)
19 July 2012
Mister Know It All
There is always music playing in my head. Either I'm listening to it externally (e.g. radio, iPod, etc.) or I'm just thinking of a song. Often, if I'm alone in the aircraft or car, I'll be singing as well. What would we do without music in our lives?
One of my favorite songs of all time is the one from Stevie Wonder above, from 1973.
* * *
Aviation insurance companies usually want to see a certain amount of flight time accrued in a specific aircraft type before they will cover a pilot. Their reasoning is that pilots with little relative experience are a greater risk. Thus, we often have what is called “make and model” time minimums. And even then, although I have, like, a bazillion hours in the Bell 206B, our insurance company in Alabama still requires me to have annual Recurrent Training in that specific model.
Up here in Washington, we're not carrying passengers or cargo, so our insurance company feels that as long as a pilot has 1,000 hours total time he is good-to-go with no make-and-model minimum for the S-55. Obviously, I've got the 1,000 hours - and then some.
Nevertheless, my Sikorsky S-55 make-and-model time is very low, and I must be aware of the increased risk at which I'm operating. Last year, I flew a total of 18.5 hours in it. At the end of the season I was feeling pretty comfortable in the ship, but not what you’d call super-proficient. (Hey, a man’s gotta know his limitations.) After all, we’re just hovering around; there’s little opportunity to get out and “see what she’ll do”…explore the edges of the flight envelope. Not only that, but these things are so rare that I'm not inclined to go out and play around and maybe prang one.
This year, the season is not completely over yet and I already have an additional 25 hours in the S-55. And it is only now that I am beginning to feel competent. But I know I am still far from being a master of it. Every so often, while ferrying between orchards the aircraft will do something and I’ll cock an eyebrow and go, “What’s going on?” Every aircraft has its own idiosyncrasies; it takes time to learn them. And learning, I am. This helicopter teaches me things every time I go up.
Learning new stuff: That’s one of the eternally fun and interesting aspects of flying. As long as I’ve been in this career, as many things as I've done, as many hours as I have amassed...there is still something more to learn. I'm no Misstra Know It All.
11 July 2012
Changing The Weather
Above, you see Accuweather’s extended forecast for Omak, Washington (the nearest big town to me). You’ll notice that of the 25 days depicted (including today) there is *no* rain in the forecast. The only day that looks less-than-sunny is July 18th.
The contract Taylor and I are on goes through the middle of August. It looks like we might be done, flying-wise. However, all extended forecasts are just a guess, and the various weather service providers have been notoriously bad about forecasting for this area. Still, I don’t see much rain headed our way in any case.
I’ve been mulling over different routes to take back home. As hot as it’s been so far, I’m not sure I want to plunge southward right away. I may want to stay north, or find a way to go down through the Rockies so I can stay in higher elevations where there ostensibly would be cooler temperatures. Or maybe it'll cool off some by the middle of August.
One potential route takes me down through Yellowstone and the Tetons, all of which I’ve always wanted to see. So I think I’ll go that way down to Denver, then kind of wind my way down to Amarillo and then eastbound to Ft. Worth, Texas and beyond. That route works out to be about 2,725 miles. At 600 miles per day, it’ll take five days to get home. But there is no hurry; I’m allowing for seven.
I’m really not sure what my plans are upon returning to Pensacola. Since the first of the year I’d been flying again for my old boss (the job I quit to come up here to Washington last year). The guy he hired to replace me did not work out. But I didn’t want the job when I quit before, did not really want it back, and I don’t really want it now. One of the guys up here asked me how much money it would take for me to want it? I replied that I didn’t think there was enough money on the planet. But you know…if the boss threw a whole barrelful of cash at me (and maybe a company car) I might be inclined to stay. Or maybe not. In any case, I just don’t think that’s going to happen.
Like the extended weather forecast, things have a way of changing.
27 June 2012
Blowing Those Cherries But Not Drying Them
...Then the rain came.
Normally Tuesday would have been a no-fly day for me back in my real life. From sunrise it had been raining, and the visibility was very poor all morning. The tops of the surrounding hills were obscured by clouds. I mean it was scuzzy. But around 1 p.m. Joel, our farm manager showed up at the RV and said go fly anyway. And so I did. See, in this job we don’t really “fly.” We just hover. And as long as I can see the fields I can dry. Luckily it never gets as zero/zero foggy as it does in other parts of the country. Like Brewton, Alabama.
Normally we wait until the rain has pretty much stopped before we go out drying. But Monday was rainy and Tuesday was a wet, wet day. In fact, it has rained just about every day of the last week. The weatherguessers have been guessing wrong – and they really got it wrong this time. It didn’t look like it would ever stop.
In the Brewster area (Okanogan Valley) we are literally in the shadow of the Cascade Mountains. It’s strange. Weather systems approaching from the west usually rain themselves out before reaching us. But for the last week a low has been parked down off the coast of Oregon. The counterclockwise flow around it sent moisture up our way, circumventing our usual weather blocker. All of the rain that fell on me came in from the southeast.
If cherries stay wet they absorb water through the stem and can split open. And it had been raining steadily. So out I went, to blow off what water had accumulated on them even though more was coming.
Earlier in the morning I had seen our “Marine1” ship going up the valley toward the town of Omak where it was raining more heavily. Around noon the pilot stopped in for fuel. “I don’t know why we’re out there,” Dave said. “The cherries were just as wet behind me as they were ahead of me." He shrugged, "Oh well, it’s good revenue.” Then he climbed back into the bird to go again. Hey, if the farmers want to pay to have us go out and burn gas, it's okay by us!
Indeed, it was good revenue. Everybody in the company flew a lot on Tuesday. It was very unusual, according to the old-timers who’ve been around longer than me. The fields I have right now (around 100 acres) take about an hour to dry. Usually I just do them once and am done. Tuesday I flew 3.8. It was fun.
I’m finally “back in the groove” with the S-55 which admittedly I was not when I got here. In aviation we place a lot of emphasis on currency in make and model. And during my first few flights in the old beast I was really rusty. Not scary-rusty, just not up to my own standards. If Mikey had been flying with me I would have been embarrassed at my clumsiness.
Anyway, now it’s Wednesday and it’s…finally!...bright and clear. There were a few clouds right after sunrise but they dissipated completely by the time we all got together and went out to Smallwood Farms for a liesurely breakfast/safety meeting over which we debriefed each other on yesterday.
We used to have certain acronyms for weather. "W0X0F," for instance (wocks-off) comes from the bad old days when our aviation weather reports were just a bunch of confusing symbols inherited from ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. It means, Ceiling Zero, Visibility Zero due to Fog. Or, “CAVU:” Ceiling And Visibility Unlimited. I say the National Weather Service ought to have another acronym for days like this: NACITS: Not A Cloud In The Sky). So far they have not taken my suggestion.
Normally Tuesday would have been a no-fly day for me back in my real life. From sunrise it had been raining, and the visibility was very poor all morning. The tops of the surrounding hills were obscured by clouds. I mean it was scuzzy. But around 1 p.m. Joel, our farm manager showed up at the RV and said go fly anyway. And so I did. See, in this job we don’t really “fly.” We just hover. And as long as I can see the fields I can dry. Luckily it never gets as zero/zero foggy as it does in other parts of the country. Like Brewton, Alabama.
Normally we wait until the rain has pretty much stopped before we go out drying. But Monday was rainy and Tuesday was a wet, wet day. In fact, it has rained just about every day of the last week. The weatherguessers have been guessing wrong – and they really got it wrong this time. It didn’t look like it would ever stop.
In the Brewster area (Okanogan Valley) we are literally in the shadow of the Cascade Mountains. It’s strange. Weather systems approaching from the west usually rain themselves out before reaching us. But for the last week a low has been parked down off the coast of Oregon. The counterclockwise flow around it sent moisture up our way, circumventing our usual weather blocker. All of the rain that fell on me came in from the southeast.
If cherries stay wet they absorb water through the stem and can split open. And it had been raining steadily. So out I went, to blow off what water had accumulated on them even though more was coming.
Earlier in the morning I had seen our “Marine1” ship going up the valley toward the town of Omak where it was raining more heavily. Around noon the pilot stopped in for fuel. “I don’t know why we’re out there,” Dave said. “The cherries were just as wet behind me as they were ahead of me." He shrugged, "Oh well, it’s good revenue.” Then he climbed back into the bird to go again. Hey, if the farmers want to pay to have us go out and burn gas, it's okay by us!
Here's Marine1 getting ready to take off again to go cherry-...well...blowing
Indeed, it was good revenue. Everybody in the company flew a lot on Tuesday. It was very unusual, according to the old-timers who’ve been around longer than me. The fields I have right now (around 100 acres) take about an hour to dry. Usually I just do them once and am done. Tuesday I flew 3.8. It was fun.
I’m finally “back in the groove” with the S-55 which admittedly I was not when I got here. In aviation we place a lot of emphasis on currency in make and model. And during my first few flights in the old beast I was really rusty. Not scary-rusty, just not up to my own standards. If Mikey had been flying with me I would have been embarrassed at my clumsiness.
Anyway, now it’s Wednesday and it’s…finally!...bright and clear. There were a few clouds right after sunrise but they dissipated completely by the time we all got together and went out to Smallwood Farms for a liesurely breakfast/safety meeting over which we debriefed each other on yesterday.
We used to have certain acronyms for weather. "W0X0F," for instance (wocks-off) comes from the bad old days when our aviation weather reports were just a bunch of confusing symbols inherited from ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. It means, Ceiling Zero, Visibility Zero due to Fog. Or, “CAVU:” Ceiling And Visibility Unlimited. I say the National Weather Service ought to have another acronym for days like this: NACITS: Not A Cloud In The Sky). So far they have not taken my suggestion.
And here's my bird, 955 the following morning. What a difference a day makes!
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