EZFlap wrote:What is it about this part of the world that is different from Nevada and the Sierras, such that you would be ill-advised to take off at 2PM?
Probably the best way to visualize the difference is to look at the Sierras on the back (east) side, the side that goes from the floor up to 14k feet without any foothills. Now take an exact copy of that and mirror it and do it so the space at the bottom between these two facing back sides is only wide enough for a river and a 50' wide strip right next to the river.
Now take a giant axe and cut some vees into this and intersect other back to back Sierras. And make them all look similar but some of them be essentially box canyons, so if you make a wrong turn you can't climb out.
Imagine flying right at the tops of the mountains and looking down 4,000 feet to this little thin strip of river, and even thinner piece of grass you want to land on, with nothing else you can emergency land on if something should go wrong. You somehow have to descend to the canyon floor, fly an approach/pattern that is very non-standard and very unique to every strip. In the Cessna 185 you slow up 70mph to fly your approach. Your wing tip is within 10 to 15 feet of treetops and granite for two reasons; the first so you have enough room to make you 180 degree canyon turn (base to final), and the other to leave enough room for the airplane coming around the blind bend to pass by.
It's early morning, the air is cool and smooth, as you make your final canyon turn, loosing sight of your intended landing spot while seeing the ground rush of the mountain on the other side. As you roll wings level and locate you final approach fix and make the last minute dog leg on final your wheels touch and the world is good.
But you woke up late, decided to do some last minute shopping at Cabelas and before you realize it's 3:00 in the afternoon. It's 90 to 100 degrees so these 4,000 foot deep, very narrow canyons, have created their own winds, thermals, and moderate turbulence.
As you drop into this 4,000 foot descent your getting tossed. You continue down to the bottom. The winds are high, gusty, and variable. You have no choice but to fly your pattern and approach at 85mph. You're not comfortable in the turbulence flying 10 to 15 feet from solid granite, so you move away from the rock, maybe 50 feet away. Now you've reduced the room you have for your 180 degree turn. But you are also 15 miles per hour faster so you can't turn as tight. Do you have enough room to make the turn? Maybe. Maybe not. But on this strip you are landing you are committed, it's not a one way strip but if you don't make the turn and are forced to continue on you might not have enough power to climb out, and the canyon narrows even more so once past the 180 degree turn point you have no further options to turn around, you must climb.
You decide to go for it. Your passengers have gotten quiet, they are sure they are going to die. Your mouth gets dry but your hands sweat, all the while the plane is being tossed every which way. You roll out on final and you've never seen anything prettier. But you've still got to land and get stopped. You 15 mph hot, so you eat up a lot of the runway in float. You finally touch down, get hard on the brakes and manage to get her stopped just short of the end of the runway. Your passengers, white as sheets, manage to get out of the plane, fall to the ground and kiss the earth.
Welcome to Idaho summertime, afternoon, backcountry flying. And I'm not making any of this up.