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The Reach of Those Who Teach

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  A couple of years ago, I was enjoying a quiet evening at home after a long weekend of teaching at a clinic hosted by one of the national training providers for owners of Beechcraft Bonanzas. As usual, the clientele included a mix of pilots with varied experience levels from folks who had just purchased their first Bonanza to others who had been flying the same model for many years. Everyone hoped to pick up a few new nuggets of knowledge while polishing their skills by flying with our skilled cadre of instructors who specialize in sharing the nuances of all things Beech. The various “type groups” that support specific aircraft breeds perform a valuable role by providing specific training and resources for owners and operators that are usually not available from a local CFI. As I watched the last embers fading from the warm fire beside my chair, contemplating trundling off to bed, my cell phone rang. “Hi Ken, It’s Rob. We flew together last Saturday in my Bonanza. I’m sorry to cal
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    When Push Comes to Shove “What do you mean ‘we’re stuck’?” My buddy Chris looked at me like I’d suddenly decided to try some outrageous joke to start the day. I was standing in the shallow water beside my Cessna 182 amphibious floatplane, which had carried us into the majestic Alaskan backcountry and was now the source of my concern. As I waded through the muddy water, it was becoming obvious that the remote lake near Ketchikan had conspired with the lesser gods of fortune to ruin our day. When I learned to fly floatplanes, it was all happy times and great fun on the lakes of central Texas. We would launch from the paved runway, retract the gear and head out to one of the nearby waterways to practice takeoffs and landings. Our focus was on learning the necessary skills to safely operate the small Piper Super Cub on the usually calm waters of the Highland Lakes. The biggest challenge seemed to be learning to dock the little floatplane without damaging something. Sometimes we wou
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Chasing Rainbows

Chasing Rainbows… Life as an Alaskan Lodge Pilot   “Alaska is trying really hard to kill you all the time.” Explained Chip Feguson as we visited last month in Galveston, Texas. “The challenges and rewards are immense, but it is not for everyone”, he continued. Chip and Amanda Ferguson own Alaska Rainbow Lodge on the Kvichak River located 230 miles southwest of Anchorage where they host anglers from around the world who come for world class rainbow trout fishing, bear watching and incomparable scenery. Most arrive by commercial flights into Anchorage, then catch a chartered King Air to King Salmon where they board one of Chip’s three DeHavilland Beavers for the 30-minute flight to the lodge. I’ve been fortunate to fly Super Cubs and floatplanes in Alaska for adventure and exploration but never as a working pilot, so Chip graciously agreed to spend an afternoon sharing insights about the reality of life as a bush pilot flying the
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Lessons Learned

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  Many years ago, I was fresh out of college with an education degree from the University of Texas which meant I had a head full of disjointed information and little practical experience. In short, I had a lot of lessons to learn. Not finding a teaching job right away, I accepted a position managing the retail sales floor of a busy lumber yard and construction supply company in this rural area of Central Texas. Our customers were a mix of home builders, ranchers, tradespeople, and homeowners who kept our sales staff busy offering advice, filling orders and arranging deliveries. I was a bit full of myself, given that I now had an office, several employees, and a regular paycheck. So, I set about fixing some of the business practices that to me, seemed haphazard and unprofessional. For example, the sales staff would regularly allow customers to charge their purchases on an informal basis by recording the sale on a paper ticket, then holding onto the paperwork until the customer retur
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Sound & Fury

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    “What the hell was that?” I asked. Several years ago, we were climbing out of 8000 feet in my V35B Bonanza returning from a vacation trip to South Texas when there was a loud bang from the rear of the aircraft. A quick look at the panel showed nothing amiss and there was no change to the flight characteristics. I kept waiting for any further indications of problems while my wife, Judy investigated. She quickly solved the mystery when she discovered the ruptured bag of potato chips that had suffered an explosive decompression as the ambient air pressure decreased with altitude. As you might imagine, it took a bit for my heartrate to return to normal. This was not my first encounter with unexpected noises. We tend to associate particular sights with memorable aviation events, but to me, the sounds that accompany these are often richer and more deeply rooted in the recollection. Many years ago, I had landed a job as a Part 135 charter pilot flying a Piper Commanche from our sm
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Flying Into Danger

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  All pilots who have flown very much in dangerous weather, have heard that small voice that begins as a whisper of unease, more felt than heard, scratching softly at our consciousness, becoming ever more urgent. What began as a routine flight along a line of active weather has now become a bruised sky filled with cumulous building faster than we can climb, still sunlit along the summits, shot through with blue-white lightning and trailing skirts of rain, promising destruction if we choose to intrude. Like stepping through a curtain, light becomes darkness as we enter a canyon of storm clouds, cutting off any avenue of escape. Thunder close enough to hear, the smell of ozone and fear. Seemingly only moments before, the sky had been clear, the path certain and the ride benign. Out of nowhere we find ourselves victims of fate beyond our control.   A few years ago, a simple earache that refused to heal leads to a discussion with the doctor that includes words like radiation and chem
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The Kindness of Strangers

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  Lifting off from the Medford, Oregon airport, heading for Bellingham, Washington on the next leg of my journey to Southeast Alaska, I retracted the gear on the Cessna 182 Amphibious floatplane. After the usual “monkey motion” of the retraction sequence, I noticed that only three of the four wheels were showing in the “UP” position as indicated by blue lights on the panel. The left front nosewheel remained down, with its respective green light glowing brightly. Not knowing what might be causing this, I tried recycling the system. Once again, the green light confirmed the same problem. Okay, time for a change of plans. I contacted my buddy Michael via text as I flew north, who researched possible floatplane repair facilities along my route. He called the folks at Northwest Seaplane Maintenance in Renton, Washington who quickly agreed to meet me that afternoon. I notified ATC of the change in destination and planned the route into the Renton area. The 3.5-hour flight was beautiful and u
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