I loaded up my plane with fuel (including the 18 gal. aux. tank), camping gear, and my 200lb friend, and off we went. Leaving from our 300' AGL, 5,002' paved runway in the mid-morning. Our goal was to fly to Kellog, Idaho and get a great steak at the Wolf Lodge, spend the night, do a mine tour, and then head off to J.C. the next afternoon. We dutifully motored our way over the I-90 pass, and then I spied the enticing grass runway of Easton State Airport (ESW)! Having never been there, I decided that we should make a quick stop at Easton, and all was good until it wasn't. We were on short final, at about 25' AGL when I recognized that the wind was changing direction often, and the sock was stiff, but moving to and fro. No problem though, as I have my trusty 180hp Lyc up front! I advance the throttle, reduce the flaps by one notch, and then I experience the first TERROR of my flying career. My frickin' airplane is not climbing like it always does. Shit! I am mid-field, heading toward the trees at the end, and my plane will not climb. I am seriously thinking that I have just made a mistake that is going to kill my friend. What an awful feeling. Remarkably though, I had no thoughts of my own safety, just my friend. Fortunately, I kept the nose down, and fought the intense desire to pull back on the yoke, built some speed and then climbed. We cleared the trees, and SLOWLY gained altitude. I checked the engine instruments, all was fine. What just happened? I had just met density altitude, and she is a bitch.
Easton was only 2,200' field elevation, it was only 88 degrees, and it was gusty. Aah, the stuff they do not teach on the PTS.
It was at that moment that I figured out why the old (cowardly) pilots only flew the mountains in the morning, in lightly loaded airplanes, and then drank beer from noon on. It is because they had met that bitch (density altitude) before.
If I had not elected to land at Easton, I would have been the guy that landed J.C. at 3:30 in the afternoon, with full tanks, 5 gallons of water, camping gear, and my 200lb buddy. I could have been the guy that ended in the trees, getting cut out of the plane by Kevin.
My eye-opener happened the day before my first approach to J.C., and because of that, we got up early, did not top off the tanks, dumped our 5 gallon jug of water, gave away a case of bottled beer, and left some firewood behind. We landed J.C. early, unloaded our camping gear, noticed the free firewood, noticed the fantastic tasting water, and noticed that we were close to McCall for a beer run.
You can read about D.A. and never fully understand it. Once you experience it, realize that it robs you of power, lift and options, you will never forget it.
I admire the guys that show videos of their pooched landings, tell of their tail-up taxi screw ups, discuss their bad planning, and all of the other countless stupid pilot tricks. I learn from them all, and they all shape my flying. I hope to meet Coyote Ugly, Gump, Contact and the others, and go to school on them. Unfortunately, I would rather camp at Mile Hi alone, in solitude, rather than at J.C. with 200 other planes. Not picking a fight, not being a dick, just figuring out where I fit in this community. Some guys fit with the 200 plane crowd, some want solitude.
I would love to fly with Contact some day, and sharpen my skills. I read his stuff, and I don't always get it. I figure that he can keep me from re-inventing the wheel on stuff, but man does his writing style make my head hurt
Zane, thank you for creating this forum for the exchange of ideas and creation of a community. I have flown with a dude from Costa Rica because of your site, I have toured a vacation home at Pacific City, I have pissed away thousands of hours of my work day while scouring your site, and I have learned a bit too.
But by the grace of God go I on the crash at Johnson Creek.
Bob



I totally get the solitude camping thing, I do most of my flying like that. It's simple enough to just not participate in these large events, 161 airplanes was one count.