Wow,
The first week, and change, is done and I’m alive (much to my surprise). I started training on Monday, Memorial day, in Las Vegas with Maverick Helicopters. The first 2 days were AVSTAR computer training. 12 hours a day of staring at a computer screen going over general aviation stuff, part 135 rules and operation stuff for the Astar and EC130. All the pilots have to do it once a year and we all agree that we’d rather pass a kidney stone that do AVSTAR. Monday we did ground school with the flight training manual for the EC130. A 200 page cure for insomnia with rote facts and limitations that I was supposed to have committed to memory after the first pass. To make matters even more fun, a guy from the FAA came by to evaluate my instructor as we were doing this. I knew a friend of his who flew with him in Viet Nam which helped create a more relaxing tone. He was a nice guy and all FAA guys love to gossip and shoot the shit but it still added another level of anxiety.
Thursday morning I had to take my drug test. One of the other pilots said the thing he hated most was going in there in the morning and not being able to piss cause that was the first thing you did after you woke up. To avoid that I drank a liter and a half of water on my way to work at 6:30am. They sent me to a testing facility but warned me that it was usually crowded and if it was go to this other one on the other side of town. The place was packed and when I got to the other place at 7am I discovered that it didn’t open till 8am. By 7:15 I started doing a little peepee dance. I didn’t get in there till 8:30, writhing in pain with my back teeth floating. After the test (and feeling MUCH better) we finished the EC130 ground school and started flying. The first half hour I was terrible. Getting used to a clockwise turning rotor, adjusting to the opposite pedal input and not over correcting was a bitch. It wasn’t till we started doing autorotations that it started to come together. He had confessed to me that until then he wasn’t sure if I was gonna cut it. After a few more hour of flying I passed my part 135 checkide and we finished at around 7:30pm. He then told me to be at the South Rim in Arizona (a 5 ½ hour drive from Vegas) at 7am. When I got back to where I was staying I called him and told him there was not way I was going to make it there and be functional at 7am. He understood a told me to get there when I could. Plus the guys at the place I was staying were making BBQ ribs and all I wanted to when I got home after that day was eat ribs and drink whiskey.
At 5:30am Friday morn I set out and drove to the South Rim and rolled in to the airport around 11am. As soon as I got there we started doing ground school on the Astar, another 200 page tome. After going over the differences between the 130 and the Astar we flew the Astar for a few hours. We went over the route mandated by the FAA for flying over the Grand Canyon and flew that twice. I finally finished at around 8pm and when home to where I was to stay. The Shiteau. A 3 bedroom double wide trailer in the middle of the desert housing a mechanic and 3 other pilots on duty.
Saturday morning we flew the routes in the 130 and by 11:30 we started taking up customers. Even though there were still dual controls in the Astar I was still nervous. There’s a portion of the flight where you head for the North Rim and you have to climb from 7500 feet to 9000 feet to get over the cliff. So with a full heli we’re headed toward the canyon wall, I’m pulling max power, slowing down to 60kts and this bitch doesn’t want to climb. That freaked the shit out of me. He could tell I was squirming in my seat and told me to hug the wall and there would be an updraft there to use. And with much relief (and needing a change of shorts) we climbed over the rim. The fourth tour with passengers he sat in the back and I had all the controls. He also told me to narrate the tour. I told him he must be kidding. So I pulled out a few facts I remembered him saying and BS the rest. At 7:30pm I went home to the Shiteau and drank more whiskey.
By Sunday morning I was overwhelmed, exhausted and terrified and they threw me to the wolves. I did 7 tours and had 2 kids throw up in my helicopter. Monday went better but I got mildly superstitious on Tuesday being that it was 6.6.06. A tourist told me they saw a California Condor earlier that morning. They said it had white under there wings. The third tour I went out with a group of Brits. About a mile short of the rim 3 birds flew up in front of me. They had white under their wings and I felt a thud in my rotors. The passengers were startled but weren’t sure if I hit it or not and asked what that bird was. I said it was a crow. They asked if it was still a crow and I told them we just missed it. Meanwhile I’m thinking ‘holy shit I just killed a condor’ and what’s more, should I even keep flying. As I felt no vibrations or change in flight control I continued. When I landed I inspected the blades. Yup, blood all over the rotor. Turns out it was a Turkey Vulture and not a condor. Sorry bird, but something had to go on that day and I glad it wasn’t me.
Wednesday I had my video recorder go down and a door open light come in flight so that wasn’t so bad. Thursday I got caught in a lightning and hail storm and had to set it down in a field with a group of Australians. There were 3 other helis sitting in the same field so it wasn’t so bad and the aussies were just fine with it. After work I went back the Shitea and pack and headed back to LA at 8:30 pm. I stopped in Kingsman and crashed in a hotel for the night and drove the rest of the way on Friday morning. I got home and drank some more whiskey.
So what did learn these past days? The GC is big. It’s amazing what you can absorb when your life depends on it. There is not such thing as an atheist pilot who flys in the GC. I like whiskey.