We were doing a survey and I was turning around at the end of the valley. I love that hanging glacier and the extreme terrain pictured in this photo. When the wind is calm this sort of flying is the most fun. I have started surveys as early as 0430 a.m. in an attempt to get the calmest air possible. You can tell this is late in the summer because of the condition of the snow covering the ice.
Our home base, at Sheep Mt., is at 2900’ elevation. It is not uncommon for our house to be in the clouds for a few hours in the morning. These are often our best days of flying once the sun gains control of the skies. This photo was taken on my way to 10,000’ for a landing on the glacier hauling supplies. The multiple layers of clouds obscuring various portions of the mountains made for a fun photo.
Zach called me yesterday from Haiti and told me that he was exhausted but things were going well. He will only be down there one more week before heading back to Arizona and then off to the Phillipines. He has been getting more flying than he expected as the word spread and needs were made known. Today Zach flew out and picked up a 2 year old girl that needs heart surgery. He has been doing quite a few medevacs which come with their own challenges because the stakes are high on both ends. He is in good health and the helicopter continues to operate perfectly which is a real blessing. Zach said the locals are fearing the rainy season, and the disease that will spread in the months to come as there are still many bodies still un-recovered and people are living in tents. In many ways the struggles are just beginning for Haiti as the worlds focus moves on to other things. The helicopter belonging to Samaritan Air, that Zach has been flying, will stay in Haiti indefinitely as the needs are still very great. Thank God for the people who are able to be there for the long-haul.
I was flying home with an empty Super Cub when I flew by a mountain top that looked liked a possible landing spot. I had seen the potential several years earlier, but had never taken the time to work out a landing on it. The winds were calm and the air had not yet been disturbed with afternoon thermals so I decided to give it a couple of passes. It was plenty long enough, but I was surprised by how steep it was. It was one of those scenarios where it was too steep to drag downhill or uphill so all I could do was fly by at an angle looking out the side window. This makes it much more difficult to judge length and texture but it can still give you the overall perspective. There was a hump in the middle that I was trying to get a good look at to determine size. After several passes I decided the hump of concern would not be an issue because the steep terrain would decelerate me so quickly that by the time I reached it I would just roll over it. (A “bump” jars the aircraft, a “hump” launches the aircraft)
In the process of checking-out the strip I also detected a very slight tailwind, but since length was not really an issue I decided it was manageable. I flew by the airstrip one last time as I headed out for final approach. As I turned in toward the mountain top with my flaps fully extended I double checked my ground speed and found it acceptable. As I passed the point of no return I could feel the tail wind had increased. I tried to ease off the throttle and pitch the nose up to really slow it down, but could feel the airplane sag out from underneath me, so I came back in with a little bit of power and hit the ground “long and hot” (meaning I landed well beyond where I intended going faster than I desired). I nailed “the hump” and launched back into the air even though I was climbing a significant hill. One wheel came almost 2 feet off the ground, that is a massive bounce, and is unacceptable in this sort of flying. We all botch landings once in awhile, and this was a perfect example. I should have moved-on as soon as I detected the tailwind. These sorts of landings don’t lend the luxury of a, “little tailwind”. I’ve noticed with pilots that nothing is ever their fault. It’s always the, “gust of wind” or “engine problems”. Truth is that gust of wind is still my fault because I should have accounted for the fact that there was adverse wind blowing… and then gone home! This landing was no big deal, and nothing of consequence happened. There were no passengers onboard and I was very light, but I remember this event because it surprised me, and I hate surprises in the pilot seat. An embarrassing bounce.
I took this picture immediately after landing while picking up some bear hunters.
For the last two weeks I have been working on my Super Cub. I did the annual inspection, and welded in a third seat conversion, which was no small job. I replaced all the plexiglass, added a map pocket, replaced all my skat tubing under the dash, and several other minor modifications. So this morning I took a little RTS (return to service) flight and decided to land by this glacier in order to shoot an intro video for my new website (coming very soon). I thought the “Blue Ice” was appropriate for a backdrop. While I was on the ground I could hear the glacier creeping forward. A continuous series of snaps, crackles and pops, encouraging my not to get too close. A beautiful spot, and I thoroughly enjoyed spending a few minutes enjoying another piece of God’s creation.
Short video clip of landing in the gorge.
If I fly direct, from my home base, into the Eastern Chugach this is my view to the South from 7500’. Mt. Thor is the prominent peak in the middle standing 12,251’ tall and ranking as the second highest peak in the Chugach Mt. Range. If you are a mountaineer and would like to attempt this climb I can fly you to the base of the mountain in just 20 minutes. It is a difficult climb and the weather is pretty much always terrible near the top, but after reaching the summit you can ski back to the road. This means it can be a nice cheap option for climbers. Give me a call, we’ll work something out.
Can you see the Super Cub ? The Cub is taking off, but is still on the ground, and rather small. I had just gotten airborne, and winged around to get this picture of Mike taking off. On this particular morning the glacier was so slippery that it took one person dragging and pushing on each wing to maintain control while I turned around. At one point the plane started sliding sideways and my panties got all up in a bundle trying to stop it.
Taking-off of steep, slippery terrain is a potential hazard. You know how taildraggers respond during takeoff. A little rudder dance takes place during each take off and landing in order to maintain directional control. If the plane wanders during the rudder dance, a touch of opposite brake will immediately regain directional control. On mornings as slippery as the one pictured above I might-as-well forget that the plane even has brakes, because they are completely and utterly worthless. I don’t use brakes often on takeoff because of the obvious adverse effects, but it’s nice to know I have the option. Brakes are especially nice with the ever-present downhill, glacial tailwind, because for several seconds the only air flow over the rudder is the air caused by the prop wash. The third and most adverse effect to directional stability are the ribs of ice running diagonally across this particular glacier. Those ribs pull on my bush wheels like asphalt grooves on a motorcycle tire. It is controllable, but you better have your poop-in-a-group before you apply full power. During scenarios like this I generally accelerate rather slowly, sort of like when I was first learning to fly. I just ease the throttle forward so nothing happens too fast, because the consequences of loosing directional control would be … unfortunate. As you can see, the terrain below the strip is less than forgiving. With the momentum earned from a botched take off I could easily make it right out the bottom of this picture. I am not claiming that taking off of steep slippery slopes is difficult, I am just suggesting that your mental “potential hazard” alarm be blaring while you do it. If you still have not located the Super Cub, it is on the left side of the main ice-field, about half way up the glacier, and within a couple hundred feet of the medium sized snow-patch. Look for two black specks … those are the 35” bushwheels :o) I love em’, so many uses.
