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.
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?
27 July 2012
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!
26 June 2012
Erica's Questions
I appreciate all comments to this blog. Unlike some bloggers, I do not edit or delete comments, nor even require "blogger approval" before they're posted (unless they're added after a certain period of time - it's a spam filter thing Blogger provides). I do not mind intelligent discourse, even if the writer disagrees with me. I appreciate all comments, good and bad. (The woman blogger I wrote about in the previous post bans *all* comments from me. I guess she only wants her viewpoint heard on her blog. Oh well.) Moving on, I don't feel the need to answer every comment, although I do read them. So if you don't get a response from me, it's safe to say that your comment stands on its own merit and I thank you for it.
My last post brought a response from a woman here in the Brewster area who coincidentally and conveniently asked a question I was going to deal with in this post anyway. Erica wrote:
"I have a question. The last couple of years have been deadly for you guys, especially farther south in Wenatchee, where there are power lines everywhere. It takes we growers' breath away, thinking of your lot's courage and skill, and the dangers of precision flying. So my question is this: are you guys REALLY flying with the passenger pilot sticking his head out the window, as I saw the other morning?!? Avoiding wind machines, power lines and trees is terrifying, so I wouldn't be surprised!
I went down to a neighbor's orchard three days ago, to watch that wonderful old S-55 thunder above the trees. And I took some lousy pictures. But then, I notice the right-hand side window open, and a guy or gal LEANING OUT, motioning to the pilot! This was up Jack Wells Rd., above Chief Joe."
Erica, I don’t want to burst any bubbles, but what we do is not heroic or particularly frightening and doesn’t take an inordinate amount of courage. If it involved those things, I certainly wouldn’t (couldn’t?) do it! In fact, we work really, really hard to make the job as routine as possible. In the end, we are mostly just hovering around in an open field. It’s fairly easy to do, but as you point out it does have its hazards.
Not to give you a complete training program on cherry-drying, but let me hit you with the basics. Cherry-drying is simply a matter of slowly hovering up and down the orchard at an altitude that puts about a 15 mph downward breeze through the trees. More than that can bash the cherries together and damage them (we call it, “making cherry juice”); less than that won’t get them dry.
Before we enter a field, we always, always, always scope out the wire/obstruction situation. I will go so far as to say that every dang field has a powerline running either along one edge or perhaps through it – in rare cases both. But nothing takes us by surprise, believe it or not. A lot of times there will be cherry trees quite near the wires or other obstructions (e.g. roads, houses, pickers quarters, wind machines, etc.) so we figure out in advance how we are going to dry those trees when we get to them.
A lot of times we have an observer who is a commercially-rated helicopter pilot. Contrary to what some people might imagine, we do not take joyriders. We do ask the observer to keep an eye out and warn us if we’re getting close to an obstruction. But as I said, sometimes it’s a necessity to get the job done. Happily, with the S-55 I can usually hover well above the wires. Still, we do need to keep track of their location so we don’t run into them inadvertently.
Wind can blow our downwash around. It is not always directly underneath the helicopter. Sometimes it’s hard to see the exact trees you’re drying without some extra effort. Erica, when you described the pilot leaning out the window, I thought you were talking about me! But I do not dry near the Chief Joseph Dam, which is where you said you were.
During the course of the job, I often do slide my door/window back and lean out to see the effect my downwash is having on the trees. That’s just part of doing a good job for the customer. If I have a copilot, I’ll do that for him when he’s flying and he’ll do the same for me when I’m flying. I do it when I’m alone as well. But I am comfortable and competent hovering in this manner (although I’ll admit that it’s not for everyone).
Some fields are easy and some are harder. Nearly all of the fields I dry for my customer are on flat ground and have no wires running through them. Very easy. There is one little corner of one field where two powerlines come together, but with a little advance planning even it is not that hard to do.
Our boss has repeatedly said that the cherries are not worth dying for. So we’re conservative. We try not to take unnecessary chances. Even so, we pilots sometimes make mistakes. Hey, we’re only human! Last year we lost a pilot who hit a powerline while drying in the town of Manson. He was in the middle of drying the field, and knew the powerline was there, so we are completely at a loss to explain how he could have hit the wire the way he did. But we take lessons from every crash, especially that one, and we redouble our efforts to not let that happen to us.
In the end, cherry-drying by helicopter is not an incredibly challenging job – just one that takes a little understanding and planning to do it right. And in the right helicopter (like the good, ol’ Sikorsky S-55) it is quite a lot of fun!
My last post brought a response from a woman here in the Brewster area who coincidentally and conveniently asked a question I was going to deal with in this post anyway. Erica wrote:
"I have a question. The last couple of years have been deadly for you guys, especially farther south in Wenatchee, where there are power lines everywhere. It takes we growers' breath away, thinking of your lot's courage and skill, and the dangers of precision flying. So my question is this: are you guys REALLY flying with the passenger pilot sticking his head out the window, as I saw the other morning?!? Avoiding wind machines, power lines and trees is terrifying, so I wouldn't be surprised!
I went down to a neighbor's orchard three days ago, to watch that wonderful old S-55 thunder above the trees. And I took some lousy pictures. But then, I notice the right-hand side window open, and a guy or gal LEANING OUT, motioning to the pilot! This was up Jack Wells Rd., above Chief Joe."
Erica, I don’t want to burst any bubbles, but what we do is not heroic or particularly frightening and doesn’t take an inordinate amount of courage. If it involved those things, I certainly wouldn’t (couldn’t?) do it! In fact, we work really, really hard to make the job as routine as possible. In the end, we are mostly just hovering around in an open field. It’s fairly easy to do, but as you point out it does have its hazards.
Not to give you a complete training program on cherry-drying, but let me hit you with the basics. Cherry-drying is simply a matter of slowly hovering up and down the orchard at an altitude that puts about a 15 mph downward breeze through the trees. More than that can bash the cherries together and damage them (we call it, “making cherry juice”); less than that won’t get them dry.
Before we enter a field, we always, always, always scope out the wire/obstruction situation. I will go so far as to say that every dang field has a powerline running either along one edge or perhaps through it – in rare cases both. But nothing takes us by surprise, believe it or not. A lot of times there will be cherry trees quite near the wires or other obstructions (e.g. roads, houses, pickers quarters, wind machines, etc.) so we figure out in advance how we are going to dry those trees when we get to them.
A lot of times we have an observer who is a commercially-rated helicopter pilot. Contrary to what some people might imagine, we do not take joyriders. We do ask the observer to keep an eye out and warn us if we’re getting close to an obstruction. But as I said, sometimes it’s a necessity to get the job done. Happily, with the S-55 I can usually hover well above the wires. Still, we do need to keep track of their location so we don’t run into them inadvertently.
Wind can blow our downwash around. It is not always directly underneath the helicopter. Sometimes it’s hard to see the exact trees you’re drying without some extra effort. Erica, when you described the pilot leaning out the window, I thought you were talking about me! But I do not dry near the Chief Joseph Dam, which is where you said you were.
During the course of the job, I often do slide my door/window back and lean out to see the effect my downwash is having on the trees. That’s just part of doing a good job for the customer. If I have a copilot, I’ll do that for him when he’s flying and he’ll do the same for me when I’m flying. I do it when I’m alone as well. But I am comfortable and competent hovering in this manner (although I’ll admit that it’s not for everyone).
Some fields are easy and some are harder. Nearly all of the fields I dry for my customer are on flat ground and have no wires running through them. Very easy. There is one little corner of one field where two powerlines come together, but with a little advance planning even it is not that hard to do.
Our boss has repeatedly said that the cherries are not worth dying for. So we’re conservative. We try not to take unnecessary chances. Even so, we pilots sometimes make mistakes. Hey, we’re only human! Last year we lost a pilot who hit a powerline while drying in the town of Manson. He was in the middle of drying the field, and knew the powerline was there, so we are completely at a loss to explain how he could have hit the wire the way he did. But we take lessons from every crash, especially that one, and we redouble our efforts to not let that happen to us.
In the end, cherry-drying by helicopter is not an incredibly challenging job – just one that takes a little understanding and planning to do it right. And in the right helicopter (like the good, ol’ Sikorsky S-55) it is quite a lot of fun!
24 June 2012
Faith, Hope, and Bloggery
There is this woman with a blog who owns a helicopter company in Arizona. She operates a Robinson R-44, which is a popular small, economical four-seat ship powered by a Lycoming piston-engine. Every summer this woman flies her helicopter up here to Washington State and dries cherries with it. As we speak, she is located not far south of me.
In her blog, this woman often takes a strident, lecturing, know-it-all approach to her posts. We all know that writers can be very different people in person than they are on paper. In this case, the woman writes very well (and is a great photographer to boot). Nevertheless, I find her “personality” irritating. Unlike, oh, P.J. O’Rourke whom I’d love to meet, I really hope I never bump into this woman blogger in the Wenatchee Walmart.
The very first blogpost I read of hers concerned a conflict she had with a helicopter tour operator at some desolate, uncontrolled airport in the southwest (must’ve been near the Grand Canyon). Apparently the tour operator normally used two of the three front parking spots on the ramp. Instead of parking on the third front spot, this woman parked her helicopter on a spot behind the front three which was closer to the vehicle parking area than the third front spot. This interfered with the rapid approach and departure of the tour guys. They asked her to move, she declined, and it went downhill from there.
I won’t take sides because I obviously was not there. The tour pilots clearly felt that this woman was in their way, impeding the efficient flow of their operation on their airport. Hey, I know how pilots can be. Oh, do I!
But instead of working it out with the pilots themselves or their Chief Pilot, or merely being cooperative and accommodating, this blogger woman mounted her high horse and went straight to the FAA. A lot of us would consider this a pretty chickenshit thing to do. But when you’re a pompous, relatively low-time “expert” in a field, you know better than anyone, by God! And that’s how this woman comes off in her posts.
I should ironically note here that this woman is proudly atheist. In another post, she bragged about browbeating a couple of religious proselytizers (probably Jehovah’s Witnesses) who made the mistake of knocking on her door. It was a middle-aged woman and a young girl. Our blogger says she invited them in and sat them down. Instead of a genuine back-and-forth discussion of faith, she proceeded to ridicule their beliefs and their religion, and openly try to change the mind of the young girl to a belief system that denies God.
As a person of faith, this was extremely offensive to me. You don’t want to believe in God? Go right ahead. But mocking someone because they do have faith is just childish and rude. As I’ve written before, humans have faith in a lot of things, not just a Creator. Without faith, it would be hard to get out of bed every morning. To deny this is silly. Yet atheists do. Alternatively, they want it both ways: They want to have faith in some things, just not a Creator. Yeah. Right.
In all of her writing, this blogger seems very unhappy and, you’ll pardon the term, unChristianlike. She complains a lot. A lot. Almost nothing goes her way. In fact, her blog is one diatribe after another chronicling some transgression someone has committed, or some rude thing she’s said or done to someone. She alluded to the breakup of her marriage. “…I’m going through some big changes right now,” she cryptically noted. (Gee, I wonder why, he thought sarcastically?)
It pains me to read the words of someone whose life is so fucked-up, especially that of a fellow helicopter pilot (and motorcyclist)! I know in my heart that this woman’s life would turn around if she would simply accept the fact that there is a Creator (whom most people call “God”), and realize that this Creator loves her and wants the best for her…a Creator she can call on to help her in times of stress or duress.
She would dispute this, of course, as all atheists do. She would swear that her life is just fine, thank you very much, Mr. Buttinski. “I have my own helicopter company and I’m a (self)published author and…and…” And yet it seems so empty or lacking to the outsider.
Let me ask you readers of this blog something. Does it seem like my life is bad? Does it seem like, in general, things don’t go my way or that bad shit is always happening to me? Wait – I’ll answer that for you: HELL NO! I love my life! I’d like to have more money (wouldn’t we all?) but I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Do I “owe it all” to God? No, but it would be wrong to deny His existence and influence and affect on my life. And anyway, on the other hand maybe I do owe it all to Him. Maybe I owe more to God’s power and good grace than I’m even aware.
And so I continue to read this woman’s blog, hoping that one day she’ll “see the light” as it were and realize that there is “something” bigger than her out there. But right now, she is the biggest thing in her world. That’s a troubling philosophy, I’ll tell you what.
My faith is what sustains me, gives me the strength and courage to face and get through every day. My faith is what gives me hope that things can always get better…better even than they are now! Without faith there can be no hope…without faith hope is merely wishful thinking. This is why I feel so sad for atheists: Without hope, is life really worth living? I think not.
In her blog, this woman often takes a strident, lecturing, know-it-all approach to her posts. We all know that writers can be very different people in person than they are on paper. In this case, the woman writes very well (and is a great photographer to boot). Nevertheless, I find her “personality” irritating. Unlike, oh, P.J. O’Rourke whom I’d love to meet, I really hope I never bump into this woman blogger in the Wenatchee Walmart.
The very first blogpost I read of hers concerned a conflict she had with a helicopter tour operator at some desolate, uncontrolled airport in the southwest (must’ve been near the Grand Canyon). Apparently the tour operator normally used two of the three front parking spots on the ramp. Instead of parking on the third front spot, this woman parked her helicopter on a spot behind the front three which was closer to the vehicle parking area than the third front spot. This interfered with the rapid approach and departure of the tour guys. They asked her to move, she declined, and it went downhill from there.
I won’t take sides because I obviously was not there. The tour pilots clearly felt that this woman was in their way, impeding the efficient flow of their operation on their airport. Hey, I know how pilots can be. Oh, do I!
But instead of working it out with the pilots themselves or their Chief Pilot, or merely being cooperative and accommodating, this blogger woman mounted her high horse and went straight to the FAA. A lot of us would consider this a pretty chickenshit thing to do. But when you’re a pompous, relatively low-time “expert” in a field, you know better than anyone, by God! And that’s how this woman comes off in her posts.
I should ironically note here that this woman is proudly atheist. In another post, she bragged about browbeating a couple of religious proselytizers (probably Jehovah’s Witnesses) who made the mistake of knocking on her door. It was a middle-aged woman and a young girl. Our blogger says she invited them in and sat them down. Instead of a genuine back-and-forth discussion of faith, she proceeded to ridicule their beliefs and their religion, and openly try to change the mind of the young girl to a belief system that denies God.
As a person of faith, this was extremely offensive to me. You don’t want to believe in God? Go right ahead. But mocking someone because they do have faith is just childish and rude. As I’ve written before, humans have faith in a lot of things, not just a Creator. Without faith, it would be hard to get out of bed every morning. To deny this is silly. Yet atheists do. Alternatively, they want it both ways: They want to have faith in some things, just not a Creator. Yeah. Right.
In all of her writing, this blogger seems very unhappy and, you’ll pardon the term, unChristianlike. She complains a lot. A lot. Almost nothing goes her way. In fact, her blog is one diatribe after another chronicling some transgression someone has committed, or some rude thing she’s said or done to someone. She alluded to the breakup of her marriage. “…I’m going through some big changes right now,” she cryptically noted. (Gee, I wonder why, he thought sarcastically?)
It pains me to read the words of someone whose life is so fucked-up, especially that of a fellow helicopter pilot (and motorcyclist)! I know in my heart that this woman’s life would turn around if she would simply accept the fact that there is a Creator (whom most people call “God”), and realize that this Creator loves her and wants the best for her…a Creator she can call on to help her in times of stress or duress.
She would dispute this, of course, as all atheists do. She would swear that her life is just fine, thank you very much, Mr. Buttinski. “I have my own helicopter company and I’m a (self)published author and…and…” And yet it seems so empty or lacking to the outsider.
Let me ask you readers of this blog something. Does it seem like my life is bad? Does it seem like, in general, things don’t go my way or that bad shit is always happening to me? Wait – I’ll answer that for you: HELL NO! I love my life! I’d like to have more money (wouldn’t we all?) but I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Do I “owe it all” to God? No, but it would be wrong to deny His existence and influence and affect on my life. And anyway, on the other hand maybe I do owe it all to Him. Maybe I owe more to God’s power and good grace than I’m even aware.
And so I continue to read this woman’s blog, hoping that one day she’ll “see the light” as it were and realize that there is “something” bigger than her out there. But right now, she is the biggest thing in her world. That’s a troubling philosophy, I’ll tell you what.
My faith is what sustains me, gives me the strength and courage to face and get through every day. My faith is what gives me hope that things can always get better…better even than they are now! Without faith there can be no hope…without faith hope is merely wishful thinking. This is why I feel so sad for atheists: Without hope, is life really worth living? I think not.
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