Mountain Flying

During the course of my commercial training it was recommended that I take a mountain flying course. I was told that flying in the Rockies was way different from flying the plains. The person who recommended this to me was my then current flight instructor, and friend, who was valiantly trying to get me a commercial rating. What I didn't know was he was also an outfitter and elk hunting guide on the side. This I learned during the course of instruction while we were bobbing and weaving around hills and into little valleys while he kept a steady eye on the ground looking for elk herds. In spite of his apparent inattention he managed to teach me a whole lot about mountain flying. He used the "after the the fact" teaching method, saying things like "now you see what happens when you do that" or "you won't ever want to do THAT again" or just a simple "jeeeeeeeeeeze!!
Short field take-offs from a short mountain airport are guaranteed to get the juices flowing. Factor in the lodge pole pines at the far end and it is a real joy ride.
One trip in particular stands out in my fuzzy mind.
On a cold, clear, blue Colorado sky type of day we took off in the trusty Cherokee 235 on a cross country Denver - Gunnison - Aspen - Denver. We had planned to fly the valleys and canyons to Gunnison. Going up high and just flying over the divide never once entered into our minds. This was mountain flying. So we were going to stay low (9,000 - 12,000 feet msl roughly 500 feet agl)
It was a beautiful day. I was enjoying the flight. The air was crisp. The aircraft was purring. My instructor was busy with his field glasses. Just right. After a while Jim (my instructor) said "you might want to widen out around this next turn" and he went back to the elk hunt.
This "next turn" was when we were clearing one valley and turning into another. Not wanting to upset Jim and his crusade for the perfect elk herd, I widened my turn sliding out more towards the center of the valley. As I rolled out of my turn I glanced to my left and looked UP. There were dozens of people above me! One guy in particular was looking right at me. He had on mirror sunglasses. I couldn't grasp it at first. People. ABOVE Me.
Jim said "don't be rude...wave to them". So I waved. The guy in the mirrors waved back.
A ski lift! We had flown right by a ski lift. It probably seems natural to some people to fly past people sitting above you but it took me a few minutes to digest it. I moved further out into the valley.
We planned to land at Gunnison, check weather and re-fill the all important coffee thermos.
Gunnison airport sits in a valley at 7700 feet. It is surrounded by high mountains. We decided to land on runway 35. This is their shortest runway but not really a problem. It is a little disquieting though on downwind looking at a sheer wall of granite. I was getting a Little nervous and started to shade my turn to base when Jim told me to wait. I waited. and waited. I turned to Jim and asked if he was going to call the base turn or did he have a death wish. When he finally called for the turn it was almost a snap roll. I swear we were brushing our wingtip up against the cliff. But it worked out OK. There is a 200' offset threshold and Jim wanted me to get a good look at it and not try any crazy stuff like trying to land on the threshold.
We checked the weather. It was holding with just a few cumulus clouds building along the ridges. We filled our Thermos's and started out for Aspen. Just a short hop. Just over the ridge. The temperature had dropped considerably and the outside air temp during our climb out was around -25. As much as I loved the Cherokee 235 I have to admit the heater/defroster leaves a lot to be desired. We actually had to scrape the inside of the windshield. Credit cards are good for this. My feet were extremely cold. the moccasins I usually flew in were not designed for this kind of cold.
As we gained in altitude and turned toward the ridge and Aspen we were managing about 300 feet per minute. Not bad. At around 11,500 we noticed that the cumulus clouds were building at around 500 feet per minute. At around 12,000 we thought we might make it across the ridge. But then when you are sucking 12,000 foot air with very little oxygen in it little things in your brain pop up and say " yea, you can do it, keep going, keep climbing"
Jim put his hand on mine, which was white knuckling the throttle. I looked at his hand and wondered why his fingernails were blue.
He leaned over and yelled into my ear "TURN AROUND, DESCEND"
I did and as we were going back towards Gunnison and loosing altitude he smiled and advised me not to light a cigarette. He leaned back and did something that will always make me wonder about him. He opened the thermos of coffee.
Coffee that we had sealed in a thermos at 7700 feet. Opened at 11,000 feet the coffee had only one place to go. All over. But what we managed to salvage sure did taste good.
We decided to fly the valleys and return to Denver.
When we cleared the foothills and started our approach into Stapleton I seemed rather anti-climactic. I was bone tired. When I set it down on runway 26 it was more of an arrival than a landing. And yet the adrenaline was not quite out of my system. After putting the Cherokee to bed I just sat in my truck and thought about the flight and was very very happy that I was a pilot. I looked upon non pilots as mere mortals. I had been to the Rockies and back. It was a good day.