I haven’t been blogging regularly for the past week or so. That’s because I’ve been on the move.

Monday, July 28

I spent the morning cleaning out my hangar at Quincy for departure the next day. Then I flew up to Chelan and met my friend Jim. He flew us in his helicopter to Spokane, ID for lunch and then on to Coeur D’Alene, ID where he’s based. He demonstrated a confined space landing by setting down in the parking area of his business property in downtown Coeur D’Alene to offload a bunch of stuff. Then we went to the local airport, fueled up, and picked up his wife for the return flight to Chelan. I got some great photos of combines in action on the dry wheat fields. We landed at Chelan with just enough time to chat with another helicopter pilot before it was time for me to fly back to Quincy.

Tuesday, July 29

I spent much of Tuesday morning preparing to leave Quincy. I had to disassemble my helicopter tow bar and stow its pieces in the back of my truck, then clear out everything else still in the hangar I’d been renting. I also had to drop off my last month’s rent. I bought some cherries and other fresh fruit, too.

I had just enough time for a quick shower before visitors started coming. Louis, who would fly with me later in the day to Seattle, arrived first. Then Teresa, Jim’s wife, arrived with Jim’s pickup. He bought the remaining fuel in my transfer tank — about 50 gallons of 100LL — for $4/gallon. A great deal for both of us, since I wanted the fuel out to lighten up my truck. We pumped the fuel from my transfer tank to Jim’s and Teresa departed.

Then Louis dropped me off at Quincy Airport and drove my truck to Wenatchee. I took my helicopter to Wenatchee to meet him and we flew from there to Seattle’s Boeing Field, on a marginal weather flight I reported in some detail here. After a chat with my mechanic there, Louis and his mom dropped me off at SeaTac. I had a pretty good halibut dinner at Anthony’s before I caught a flight back to Wenatchee. I was back in my camper by 9:30 PM, exhausted.

Wednesday, July 30

Wednesday was the big day. I packed up the camper, stowed Alex the Bird on board the truck in his travel box, hooked up the camper to the truck, and pulled out. I’d been in my campsite for just a few days short of two months.

My destination was Walla Walla, WA, about 150-200 miles away. I chose a route that kept me on back roads. I don’t think I ever saw so much wheat in my life. My chosen route took me past Palouse Falls, so I stopped in and got some photos. It was an interesting place and well worth the stop.

From there, I continued on to Walla Walla, with a stop at a drugstore soda fountain in Dayton for an ice cream sundae. I checked into the Four Seasons RV Park around 5 PM, set up the camper for a two-night stay, and went out to grab some dinner. I wound up at a restaurant called Luscious, where I had an excellent polenta dish and a glass of wine.

This is also the first day I gave my new SPOT Messenger a workout. You can track my progress for this entire trip on my Share page, http://www.tinyurl.com/FindMaria. You’ll have to page back using controls under the Waypoints list to see the track for that day.

Thursday, July 31

There was something about dinner that didn’t agree with me, no matter how tasty it was, because I was up at 3 AM, leaning over the camper’s toilet and choking it all back up. I hate to puke but what they say is true: you do feel better when you’re done. But I wasn’t operating at 100% the next day, which I’d set aside to explore opportunities in Walla Walla.

It’s no secret that I pretty much hate where I live right now. Wickenburg is a dead town, full of ultra conservative retirees who live there only half the year and don’t spend much of their money in town when they’re around. They don’t have an emotional investment in the town and don’t seem to care what happens to it. As a result, new businesses — other than those that cater to the budget-conscious — don’t last more than a year or so. There are few decent restaurants and very few shopping opportunities. If it weren’t for the newly built and then remodeled Safeway Supermarket and a handful of longtime other businesses, I don’t know how I could live there at all. To make matters worse, the Mayor and Council seem more interested in growing the town’s population base for the financial benefit of their families and cronies than building an economic base that includes good-paying jobs that’ll attract young, vibrant people. The Chamber of Commerce pushed for an in-town “bypass” that’s destroying downtown parks and other facilities and adding a “roundabout” that’s sure to cause daily accidents. I love my home and its immediate surroundings and it’s painful to see how they’re destroying whatever was good about the town. There’s nothing else here for us anymore. All of our friends in our age group have already left town. We’re the only ones left.

So I’m exploring possibilities and Walla Walla was high on my list. I spent some time checking out the very pleasant historic downtown area, where it was nice to not be the youngest person on the street. Then I went over to the airport to meet with the airport manager about moving my flying business there. She was extremely helpful and enthusiastic and said a lot of things that made me believe I’d be welcome there. (What a refreshing change that was.) There would certainly be a lot more opportunities in that town than where I’m based now. I also checked out a few wineries — there are dozens in the area! — although I couldn’t do any tasting with my stomach so iffy all day.

By 4 PM, I was exhausted. I went back to the camper to relax and wound up staying in for the rest of the night.

Friday, August 1

On Friday, I needed to get an early start. I was expected in Salt Lake City at 6 PM. I’d be spending the night at the home of my friend and editor, Megg, and her family. Utah (MDST) is 1 hour ahead of Washington (PDST) so I’d already lost an hour. Trouble was, I needed to visit the post office to see if a General Delivery letter (containing a large check) had arrived. So I got as much prepared as possible before 9 AM and drove into town again. The check was there. I stopped at an excellent bakery that had been highly recommended by a Twitter friend and bought a fruit tart to bring to my friend’s place. Then I gassed up the truck.

Back at the camper, I was all ready to hook up the trailer when I realized that I was missing a leverage bar I needed for the hitch. I wasted an hour searching for it, then gave up and went to Home Depot to buy a replacement. That little fiasco cost me another hour. I didn’t get on the road until 10:30 AM.

That meant I had to take highways. I drove down to Pendleton and hopped on I-84 eastbound. And thus started a very long, very grueling day of driving. The trouble is, my 1994 Ford F150 8-cylinder pickup truck, when towing, is no match for hills and mountains. On flat areas (or downhill, of course), I could get it up to 65 MPH. But as soon as I started to climb, my speed deteriorated. Down to 35 MPH. Trucks were passing me.

And the roads through eastern Oregon and southern Idaho are very hilly.

I plowed on, stopping only for fuel and some fast food that I ate while driving. The hours slipped away. I was just entering the Salt Lake basin area when the sun set. It was about 8 PM. After making two wrong turns, I pulled up in front of Megg’s house just after 9 PM. I’d been on the road for more than 10 hours and was exhausted.

Megg fed me and helped me bring Alex the Bird’s cage into her dining room. By 11 PM, I was asleep in her guest room.

Saturday, August 2

We got up early and hit the farmer’s market in downtown Salt Lake City. This was, by far, the best farmer’s market I’d ever been to. Plenty of fresh produce, baked goods, and other items you’d expect to find at such a place, as well as other non-food items that generally dominate most other farmer’s markets in this country these days. Megg had her 5-year-old son, Cooper, along and we joined Megg’s friend and her 5-year-old son for coffee and scones at a shady table in the park. I felt as if I could have spent the whole day there — it was so pleasant.

But we headed out to the Snowbird ski resort area, where we took a hike in Albion Basin. The area had been recommended by photographer and Twitter friend Ann Torrence, who linked to a photo of the place that made it irresistible. The three of us hiked about 2 miles round trip to Cecret Lake (also spelled Secret Lake). I took a lot of photos; this is one of them. The place was amazingly beautiful. Again, I think I could have spent the whole day there. But we didn’t have a whole day. In fact, I was hoping to be back on the road by 1 PM.

The departure time slipped as we went to the Snowbird Ski Resort and took the tram to the top of Hidden Peak. I’m so out of shape I was huffing and puffing at 11,000 feet. We headed back to Salt Lake City where I scrambled to get everything together. It was 3:30 when I said goodbye and hit the road again with Alex.

My goal had been to reach Page, AZ before nightfall. That simply was not going to happen — especially with the way my truck was climbing hills. I wound up in Beaver, UT, where I had dinner at a truck stop before pulling into an RV park for the night. I didn’t unhook the trailer or pop out any of the beds. Instead, I just plugged in the power cord, opened the sofa, and snuggled up in a comforter with a pillow.

Sunday, August 3

I pulled out of the RV park at 6 AM sharp and continued south on I-15 to SR 20 to US 89. It wasn’t until I got to Mt. Carmel Junction that I stopped for breakfast and fuel. I was back in familiar territory — the turn at this junction leads to Zion National Park. After breakfast, I continued down through Kanab, stopping to take a photo of a reflecting pool alongside the road along the way. Then I continued east and was very pleased to see the silhouette of Navajo Mountain off in the distance.

I arrived at the Glen Canyon Dam visitor’s center at 10:30 AM. Mike was already there with his truck and Jack the Dog. We had another breakfast in Page, then went to the airport to chat with the folks I’ll be flying for there, and finally to the campground, where we were told we were “lucky” to get a spot. (There’s more to this story, but I don’t feel like going into it now.) We spent the rest of the day picking up a few things for the camper and then just taking it easy. We had dinner in town, then came back to the trailer and watched a movie on my laptop before falling asleep.

Monday, August 4

We did a lot of chores that morning. We had to button up the camper to move it to another site (which we were “lucky” to get) that was suitable for monthly use. It turns out, the only thing that made it suitable was an electric meter, so if I sucked too much electricity, they could charge me for it. The new site is right near the road, which I’m not happy at all about. But I’m hoping it’ll be close enough to the office to connect to the WiFi network there.

We left Mike’s truck with the trailer and climbed back into my truck with the stuff I wouldn’t need anymore — including Alex’s cage. Then the four of us headed home. We’d gotten about 15 miles south of Page when Mike realized he’d forgotten his cell phone. We went back to fetch it, then bought milk shakes that were way too big (and way too expensive) for the ride. At 2 PM, we were in Flagstaff, where we stopped for a Thai food lunch. We were still full from the damn milk shakes, so we wound up taking most of the food home with us.

We were in Wickenburg by 5:30 PM. I fetched one of my cars from my hangar and came home.

Busy enough for you?

So that’s a whole week and then some, all accounted for here. You can see why I didn’t blog regularly. Hopefully, this long post will make up for it — if you could last through it all.

We hit the road again on Friday morning, when we fly to Seattle to fetch the helicopter and bring it down to Page. I hope to be able to share more stories and photos with readers then.

Until then, remember that you can track my progress for most of my trips these days on my SPOT Share page, http://www.tinyurl.com/FindMaria. Use controls under the waypoints list to scroll back through previous days.

And be sure to check out my photo gallery for larger images of what I’ve shared here: http://www.FlyingMPhotos.com/.

My friend, Jim, is an Idaho-based R44 pilot with a company very similar to mine. He’s a single pilot Part 135 tour and charter operator who sometimes operates over very remote terrain.

Of Flight Plans and Flight Following

One of the challenges we face as charter operators is last-minute route changes requested by paying passengers. For example, suppose the passenger books a flight from Scottsdale to Sedona. I’m required by the FAA to file a flight plan that indicates my route so that if we don’t turn up in Sedona, they’ll know which way we went and can [hopefully] find us. But at times — sometimes after the flight is already under way — the passenger might say something like, “Can you follow the course of the Verde River to Camp Verde?” This is not the most direct route and it’s not likely to be the one I planned. But what do I do? Say no?

[The right answer is yes, say no. That's the answer the FAA wants to hear. But the FAA is not paying by the hour to conduct the flight. The FAA is not going to refer its friends to a friendly, accommodating pilot.]

The problem is, if I deviate from a route and something goes wrong, the search teams may not be looking for us anywhere near where we are. So they might not find us. And sure, I have an ELT (emergency locator transmitter) in my aircraft — even though it is not required by the FAA. But how well do those really work? It certainly didn’t help them find a pilot and his co-worker when they literally disappeared on a flight between Deer Valley in North Phoenix and Sedona nearly two years ago. They’re still missing.

And then there’s Steve Fossett. Or maybe I should have said, where’s Steve Fossett. They must have spent millions by now to find him and he’s still among the missing.

Airplane pilots and pilots flying in the flatlands of the midwest can request something called flight following from the flight service station (FSS). Flight following keeps you on radar so they pretty much always know where you are. The problem with helicopters is that we fly so darn low. Even if I flew up in nose bleed territory at, say, 1500 feet above ground level (AGL), the terrain in the area I fly is too mountainous to keep me on radar. I’d have to fly much higher to stay on radar. And if I’m going to be that high, I may as well fly a plane. So flight following is not a practical solution.

The True Geek’s Solution

Jim also flies in remote and often mountainous areas. And, like me, he’s a true gadget lover — someone who likes to fiddle with electronic toys. (I think he’s lusting for a POV.1 after seeing mine.) He was based in Chelan for cherry drying season and happened to see the SPOT Messenger displayed at the local Radio Shack. He went in and checked it out. Then he did more homework. Then he bought one and told me about it.

The SPOT Satellite Messenger is a personal location device. It’s about the size of my Palm Treo and, as you can see here, bright orange so it’s easy to…well, spot.

My understanding of the unit is that it combines GPS receiver technology with satellite transmitter technology. So you turn it on and it acquires its position via GPS. You can then use one of four different features, depending on the subscription plan you choose:

• The SPOT standard service plan, which costs $99/year, includes the following three features:
  • OK sends a text message or e-mail message to the phone numbers or e-mail addresses you specify. The message, which is customizable, tells the people on the list that you’re checking in OK and provides the GPS coordinates for your position. Those coordinates include a link that, when clicked, displays your position on Google Maps.
  • Help, is similar, but it sends a customizable help message to the people you specify. The idea here is that you need help and have no other way to contact someone who can help you.
  • 911 sends your GPS coordinates to the folks at the GEOS International Emergency Response Center, who, in turn, notify the appropriate emergency authorities. This is for real, life-threatening emergencies. The Response Center folks also contact, by phone, the two people you specify to notify them of the signal.
• The tracking upgrade option, which costs another $49/year, includes live tracking, which, when activated, sends you GPS position every 10 minutes or so to the SPOT folks. This information is visible to anyone who has been given access to a Share page you configure with or without a password.

Jim went with both plans. When I bought mine on Monday, I did the same.

First Thoughts

I’ve been playing with SPOT on and off since Tuesday morning. In general, I like it and I think it’ll do the job I intend to use it for — flight following on those long cross-country flights.

After configuring message recipients, I started out by sending a few OK messages. Although the marketing material makes it seem as if those messages are instantaneous, they’re not. After pushing the OK button, the unit will try for up to 20 minutes to send your OK location via satellite uplink. It’ll send the message 3 times, but only one message is forwarded to the people on your list. For experimental purposes, I made myself one of those people. I had to wait longer than 20 minutes to receive one or two of the messages. To be fair, part of the reason for that could be my location at the time — flying between Wenatchee and Seattle in mountainous terrain. (I don’t think my cell phone was receiving very well.) The delay is satisfactory, once you realize that it’s not an instant communication.

For obvious reasons, I have not used Help or 911 yet. Let’s hope I never have to.

I did set up tracking. It took several tries to turn it on properly. The unit does not have a screen, so you have to rely on understanding the blinking lights to know what it’s doing — if anything. Twice I thought I was enabling tracking, but discovered that all I did was send OK messages. Once, tracking was on and in trying to turn it on, I really turned it off. In all cases, it was operator error. Evidently, you cannot turn on tracking during the 20-minute period in which an OK message is being sent. Since both features use the same button, it’s pretty easy to do one thing instead of the other if you don’t pay attention to how long you hold down the darn button.

My husband complained that the messages he received did not include the date and time. We later realized that it was because he was not viewing the message on his phone; he was viewing its summary. (My husband is text message challenged.)

The e-mail version of the OK message is handy because of the link it includes. Click it and go right to Google Maps with the position clearly marked. Here are two examples. In the first one, we’re flying just to the east of Snowqualmie Pass over I-90. In the second one, we’re sitting on Pad 6 at Boeing Field in Seattle. These images are at two different magnifications. All GoogleMaps features work — it’s just the location put into GoogleMaps. My personal Messages page on the FindMeSpot.com Web site displays all points with the option of displaying any combination of them on Google Maps. It also enables me to download these points to a GPX or KML format file for use with a GPS receiver or GoogleEarth.

The Share page feature, which is still in beta, was not working when I first tried it. But it’s working now — and quite well! I set up a page that does not require a password so anyone could check in and see where I was when I was traveling with SPOT tracking turned on. Apparently, it only shows the past 24 hours of activity, so it you’re checking it now and there’s nothing going on, it’s because I’m not traveling with SPOT. But here’s what it looks like right now; as you can see, I spent a lot of time exploring Walla Walla, WA today:

A few things about this feature:

• The lines between the points (which, for some reason, are not showing up in the screenshot) do not represent tracks. I was in a truck today and did stay on roads.
• If the unit did not have a clear shot of the sky, the point that should have been recorded wasn’t. This wasn’t a problem today, since I had the unit sitting on the dashboard in the broiling sun — partially to see if heat would affect it. (It didn’t.)
• Clicking a point in the list on the left side “flashes” that point in the display. You can also click other controls to get more information.
• If you leave this page open, it will automatically update. So you can watch new points appear if you’re tracking someone. Way cool.

The URL for this feature is long and impossible to remember, so I created a custom URL using TinyURL: http://www.tinyurl.com/FindMaria. I invite you to try it for yourself.

Overall

My overall opinion is very positive. It will certainly give me peace of mind while flying in some of the remote desert locations I fly in. I think it’s worth the $150 unit cost plus annual subscriptions.

Even if something goes terribly wrong out there, I want to be found.

My next challenge: getting it to send OK messages to my Twitter account. Anyone have any ideas?

Louis and I flew from Wenatchee (EAT) to Seattle’s Boeing Field (BFI) yesterday afternoon. The flight required us to cross the Cascade Mountains. There are two passes to choose from: Snoqualmie, which I-90 goes through and Stevens, which State Route 2 goes through. I’d wanted to take Stevens — I’d already traveled Snoqualmie once and wanted a change — but the decision would not be mine.

It was a weather issue, of course. After weeks of picture-perfect weather here on the east side of the Cascades, a cold front had moved in. Rain clouds were coming over the Cascades. It even drizzled in Quincy.

As I flew out of Quincy Airport for the last time this season, I took a good look at the ridge between Ellensburg and the Columbia River, where all those windmills are lined up. The sky was dark out that way, with thick gray clouds. Although the windmills were clearly visible, I could also see the vertical streaks of falling rain. It looked as if a flight up I-90 was out of the question.

But the picture was worse when I reached the Wenatchee area and could see out toward Stevens pass. The sharp, rocky mountains are closer there and the clouds clung to them like cotton balls rubbed across coarse sandpaper: lots of wisps in an 8 to 10 knot breeze. The clouds were definitely lower; the pass was definitely higher.

It looked as if scud-running would be in my near future.

If you’re not a pilot, or you’re a very new pilot, you might not know the term scud-running as it pertains to aviation (or anything else, for that matter). I define scud-running as flying in variable visibility conditions, when you have steer around low clouds or fog enroute to get to your destination. Scud-running is never a good idea. In fact, it’s usually a bad idea. More than a few pilot have met their end hitting a “granite cloud” while attempting to run the scud.

Helicopters, however, are uniquely suited for scud-running. We normally fly low, so the clouds have to be really low to affect our flight. We can travel at a wide range of speeds, from 0 to (in my case) 115 knots, so we can take our time and really look at what’s around us before committing to a path. And if that path turns bad, we can make a 180° turn to get out of it in a very narrow space. Best of all, if things get really out of hand, we can always land in a field or parking lot and wait out the problem.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not recommending scud running to any pilot. It’s dangerous. I’m just saying that if you’re flying a helicopter and the clouds start to close in, you’re more likely to live to tell about it — if you handle it right — than someone flying a plane.

In Wenatchee, I checked the weather. I used Duats to get conditions in Stampede Pass, which is just south of Snowqualmie pass, and every other place along the way on both routes. There was no information handy for Stevens Pass, but my eyes had told me enough. Stampede pass had ceilings of 6000 feet. That was more than enough for me. Then I checked the radar in motion to see which way the rain I’d spotted near the windmills was going. It was driving northeast. We were north of the rain; it would pass to the south of us if we flew direct to Ellensburg or Cle Elum. It was cloudy and raining on the other side of the cascades, with 4,000 foot ceilings. Wind was light everywhere, so turbulence wouldn’t be an issue.

I decided to take Snowqualmie Pass.

We started up and I took off on a steep, 1,000 foot per minute climb from Wenatchee Airport. We had to cross the river and then cross the high ridge on the other side. To our left, the rainclouds were moving east. To our right, the low clouds were stuck on mountain peaks. The ridge was clear; the clouds were at least 1,000 feet above it. I aimed slightly to the south of the GPS’s direct-to Ellensburg, pointing the helicopter at the friendliest piece of sky.

I gave Louis the controls when we reached the ridge. He continued the climb, but adjusted our route to intercept with Ellensburg. We climbed closer to the clouds. I thought for a while about how I use a GPS for en route navigation — as a sort of general guide. Louis was putting us on the GPS track. Whatever.

We topped the ridge and the land dropped down toward Ellensburg on the other side. We stayed pretty high. Didn’t seem any reason to descend to a 500-foot cruise altitude when we’d just have to climb again. I set Cle Elum as the next go to waypoint in the GPS. Louis adjusted course to head west.

Ahead of us, the mountains closed in. I-90 threaded its way through them in one narrow valley after another. Although we still had at least 2,000 feet of cloudless sky right above us, the clouds dropped up ahead. The entrance to the mountainous area looked shrouded in a white haze. It didn’t look good.

I dialed in the Stampede Pass ASOS. It assured us that the ceilings were 1700 feet. Plenty of space for us. But we weren’t going through Stampede Pass. We were going through Snowqualmie Pass. They were very close, but would they have the same conditions?

We continued on. I paid close attention to the high-tension power lines that ran along the side of the road. If we had to descend and turn, I wanted to make sure I knew exactly where those wires were.

The road climbed into the mountains. We stayed at pretty much the same altitude until we were about 500 feet above the road. Then we climbed with it. We slipped into the white haze, which turned out to be a light mist. Tiny raindrops covered the helicopter’s cockpit bubble. Visibility was still okay, but there wasn’t enough moisture to bead up and run off the window, so we had to look through all those little droplets. Still, so far, so good.

We passed the two little airports at Cle Elum and I punched the next airport into the GPS: Easton State. If I have to make a precautionary landing, I like to do it at an airport, so I like to keep an airport dialed into the GPS. Sure, we could land in a big parking lot or field, but that’s a good way to get unwanted attention in these little towns.

Meanwhile, the clouds continued to come down. My internal alarm systems came to life when we started flying between low-hanging wisps of clouds. The last time I’d done that, I’d flown into one I hadn’t seen. That produced about 2 seconds of terror before I made a descending 180° turn to get out. I didn’t want to be there again. I told Louis, who was still flying, about my experience.

We passed Easton State. The next airport was Bandera, on the other side of the pass. I punched it in. We were now flying in a deep canyon, about 400 feet over a lake and I-90. The wires were not an issue anymore. At the west end of the lake, the highway made a sharp turn to the left into what looked like a cloud bank.

I listened to the Stampede Pass ASOS again. Now the ceilings were 1400 feet — still not bad. We weren’t far from there. We continued to the end of the lake, where we could see into the next canyon. Visibility was still okay, so we went in. This was the narrowest part of the canyon with very little room to maneuver. The clouds stayed high enough. The misty rainfall continued. We were okay, but I knew it could turn bad at any time.

Then we were through the pass and the road started to descend. The clouds went down with it. So did we. We’d made it through the pass but I still wasn’t sure whether we’d have a clear enough shot out of the mountains. We could never see more than a few miles ahead of us because of the mist and the twisty turns of the canyon.

But by the time we passed Bandera, it was obvious that we wouldn’t have to turn back or land. As the road continued to descend, the clouds stayed put. I tuned in the ATIS for Boeing Field and heard 10 miles visibility with 4000 foot ceilings. We landed there about 20 minutes later.

Here’s our entire route, laid out on a sectional chart;

I wouldn’t call this experience scud running, but it was about as close as you could get. I don’t think too many airplanes would have made this flight successfully without getting into the clouds — granite or otherwise. Although something small and slow like a Piper Cub could have handled the altitude and airspeed, the uncertainty of what lay ahead, coupled with the extremely narrow spaces that would make it impossible for an airplane to turn around, would make this a very dangerous flight for any plane.

I’ve been in worse weather situations than this one, but I don’t think I entered into this one lightly. The entire time we were in the mountains with low clouds, I kept thinking about escape routes, landing zones, obstacles to turning, and what could happen if we let it. In Arizona, I don’t get much practice flying weather. While I think that what we experienced yesterday was marginal VFR at best, other pilots more accustomed to weather flying might think I was taking the whole thing too seriously.

But it’s when you let your guard down that Mother Nature sometimes steps forward to slap you in the face.

For my first Airport Codes meme entry, I thought I’d cover one that’s relatively fresh in my mind: San Luis Obispo (SBP).

SBP was a fuel and lunch stop on a flight from Wickenburg, AZ (E25) to Boeing Field (BFI) in Seattle, WA in May 2008. I was flying with Louis, a CFI who wanted to build time in an R44. Or maybe I should say Louis was flying with me, since he was acting as PIC.

Our arrangement was for Louis to fly and me to handle radio communications. We’d come in from the east, passing over Grapevine and climbing up trough the wide valley west of there. About 30 miles out, we broke away from the road and made a beeline to the airport.

I tuned in the radio, listened to the ATIS recording, and waited until we were closer to make my call. The female controller was issuing instructions to other aircraft. The airport wasn’t very busy for a late Saturday morning, but the radio was full of sound. The controller was chatty, which is extremely unusual for a controller of either gender. Either she liked to give instructions or she assumed the pilots were dumb enough to need as much information as she could provide. When I made the call about seven miles out, I made myself a target for her communications.

Oddly enough, I happen to have video for this flight. I had the POV.1 camera on the nose of the helicopter and although I didn’t realize it, it had been turned on since just past Grapevine. So you can see and hear the landing — including the chatty controller — for yourself.

In reviewing this video, I really think the controller had a bit too much to say. When a controller talks too much, he or she makes it difficult for pilots to make contact with the tower. Imagine, for a moment, that you were inbound to SBP and needed to establish communication with this Class Delta tower. There aren’t too many opportunities to talk during the 6 or so minutes from the time I first called in to the time we landed. This makes it tough, especially for new pilots who may already struggle with communications.

Anyway, we landed in the No Parking zone as instructed, cooled down, and shut down. Then we went up to the terminal area where there was a restaurant. After being completely ignored for about 10 minutes, we finally got an apologetic waiter. Lunch was good.

While we sat there, four airliners came or went. Let’s see if I can remember…American, US Air, United, and Delta? All of them were turboprops except United, which came in with a small jet.

After lunch, we went down to the ramp. Our choices for fuel were full serve, right where we were parked (A on the diagram below), or self-serve, on the other side of the airport (B on the diagram below). Self serve was 50¢/gallon cheaper. I made the wrong decision: I decided to air taxi to the other side of the airport and fill up at self serve.

In a perfect world, this would not have been a bad decision. In a perfect world, we would have started up, got immediate clearance to cross the runway, landed in front of the pump, shut down, fueled, started back up, and got immediate clearance to depart to the northwest.

But there was no perfect world at SBP that day. As we prepared to reposition, a flight of three or four Howards called in on approach. The controller, now a man, was having trouble keeping track of them, probably because they called in individually and they were all Howards. (Eventually, he just told half of them to stay clear of Class Delta.) With the other traffic part of the equation, the controller was overwhelmed. He wouldn’t clear us to cross the runway. So we sat there, spinning and sweating, waiting for the clearance. When we finally got it, I scooted us across. I was hot and cranky. I fueled up quickly and we climbed back aboard. I started up and we waited again. I called the tower three times and was ignored on the first two. On the third, the controller said, “Helicopter Zero-Mike-Lima, I hear you. Stand by.” Nasty.

By the time we left, I’d burned enough fuel to eat up any savings in fuel price. Lesson learned at SBP.

Read other posts in this series:

• Airport Codes: A Meme for Pilot Bloggers
• more to come…

The other day, one of my editors told me that the book I’m currently writing will be laid out in India. As a matter of fact, last year’s edition of the same book was also laid out in India.

She went on to tell me that the production department for the company had been downsized from 168 people to less than 20, with the majority of those jobs going to India.

What followed was a discussion of what the company could possibly be saving by making such a change. Sure, the Indian workforce is probably making a lot less per hour. And there’s a huge reduction in other payroll costs for things like vacation pay and health care and employer taxes.

But don’t they consider the cost to the U.S. Economy of putting 148+ people out of work? People who may not get jobs? People who may contribute to the home mortgage crisis by failing to pay their mortgages? Who may need to burden the country by requiring economic assistance to live and get healthcare? People who are a lot less likely to spend disposable income on things like books simply because they don’t have disposable income?

148 people, you say. That’s nothing. How is that going to affect the U.S. economy?

Well, it’s not just one company shipping jobs overseas. It’s hundreds or thousands of them. That equates to thousands of people out of work, many of whom may become unable to afford the goods or services offered by the companies that let them go.

How ironic. By acting in such an idiotic, short-sighted way, these companies are actually reducing their customer base. So while their costs are lower, their sales are likely to be lower, too. Net effect? Zero change in the bottom line!

When I was a kid, we called that “cutting off your nose to spite your face.” Wikipedia has this to say about this particular phrase: “Cutting off the nose to spite the face is an expression used to describe a needlessly self-destructive overreaction to a problem.” Although it usually refers to an act of revenge, I think it could apply to this situation, too.

How can companies reduce their bottom line without shipping jobs overseas? It’s pretty simple: use freelancers.

One of my other publishers has a very small in-house production staff. But it also utilizes a number of freelance production people all over the U.S. When the in-house staff is busy putting books together, it turns to its freelancers and assigns books to them. They get the job done right in a timely manner. They have to — if they don’t do the job satisfactorily, there’s another freelancer waiting in line behind them to do that job or the next one.

Freelancers might get a higher wage than in-house people, and they surely get a higher hourly wage than overseas workers, but they only get paid when they work. So you’re not paying them to hang around the office during slow spells, when there’s no work to do. And, if you pay by the job, rather than by the hour, you only pay for the work done — not time hanging around the water cooler or spending a few extra minutes at lunch.

Employers don’t have to pay taxes for contract labor like freelancers. They also don’t have to offer benefits like vacation time or healthcare. There’s no need to send them for training or to maintain a big human resources department to keep track of them.

And since many freelancers work from their homes, they’re not commuting to and from work. That means they don’t contribute to traffic, pollution, or greenhouse gases.

And since they do work and they do get paid, they have disposable income to buy consumer goods and services. (I’ve been freelance for 18 years now and I can assure you that I’m quite a consumer of goods.)

So my question is this: why don’t more companies explore the possibilities of using freelancers instead of shipping jobs overseas?

Comments? Use the Comments link or form below to share your thoughts.

Related Posts:

As the following post list illustrates, I’ve been writing about this issue on and off for some time now. I used to use the word outsourcing to refer to sending jobs overseas. I later learned that was really called offshoring. But if you do read any of these, understand when I say outsourcing, I mean sending jobs overseas — not just sending jobs out of company.

• Outsourcing Blues
• Just Say No to Outsourcing
• Outsourcing, Continued
• Outsourcing — or “Offshoring” — Revisited (Again)

I came to Washington State in the beginning of June to start a pair of cherry drying contracts. I was fortunate enough to get a third contract wedged in between the first two, giving me almost seven solid weeks of work.

Well, “work” is not quite an accurate term. I was on standby for all three contracts, but only flew 5.2 hours on two days during one contract.

Thank heaven I was getting standby pay. Without it, I would have taken a heavy loss this summer. But with it, and thanks to the availability of a pilot willing to share ferry costs on both 10+ hour flights between Washington and Arizona, I’ll stay in the black.

My third contract officially ends on Monday, July 28 at nightfall. Unless the weather looks threatening, they’ll likely cut me loose a few hours earlier. It doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving until Tuesday.

But in the meantime, I figured it might be a good idea to drive my orchards, just to see if there was still fruit on the trees. I was in Wenatchee today, so I drove past the one near Wenatchee Airport. There are two cherry orchards across the street from each other. I’m not sure which one is mine. (Heck, it’s hard to tell from the ground when all the photos I have are from the air!) One of them still had plenty of cherries, the other had none. I continued on to Quincy and visited two of my three orchards there. Both were heavy with cherries. One of them is likely to be picked soon — fruit boxes had been laid out neatly in the rows between the trees.

As long as there’s fruit on the trees, there’s a slight chance they’ll ask me to stay on. Although I don’t mind staying an extra day or two, I really don’t want to stay longer than that. I feel done with this place, if you know what I mean.

My trip home will be completed in multiple steps:

• Tuesday: Fly the helicopter from Quincy to Seattle. Then take Horizon back to Wenatchee and drive back to Quincy. I hope to get all that done on Tuesday, but might have to take an early morning flight on Wednesday to get back to Quincy.
• Wednesday: Drive the trailer to Walla Walla. That Washington town consistently comes up as a top choice when I go through the quiz on the Find Your Spot Web site. I was there in 2006 during my Midlife Crisis Road Trip and I liked what I saw. But I was only there long enough to do my laundry and visit a downtown independent bookstore. This time, I’ll stay two nights and check it out.
• Friday: Drive the trailer from Walla Walla to Salt Lake City. I’ll be staying with the family of one of my editors, Megg. She’s going to take me hiking on Saturday.
• Saturday: Drive the trailer from Salt Lake City to Page, AZ. If I get a late start from SLC, I’ll spend the night on the road and get in sometime on Sunday.
• Monday: Fly in Mike’s plane from Page, AZ to Wickenburg. I need to get Alex the Bird home.
• Friday: Fly with Mike on US Air from Phoenix to Seattle.
• Saturday-Sunday: Fly with Mike and another pilot from Seattle to Page, AZ. I’m hoping to spend the night in the Reading area, where a buddy of mine is on a fire contract. I think we’d all get a lot out of seeing how a fire operation works.

I still have four chapters of a book revision to finish. I goofed off in Wenatchee most of today, but I expect to finish up over the weekend. There’s another book right after it, but I’ll get that started when I get back to Wickenburg and finish it when I settle down in Page.

I took these photos a few weeks ago. Mike and I were taking a drive and passed by the Brewster, WA airport. I couldn’t believe how many helicopters were parked on the ramp. We pulled in, parked the truck, and got out for a closer look. I had my junky little Nikon CoolPix with me, but it did a fine job, as you can see.

This is the ship I’d most like to fly. It’s a Sikorsky and I think it’s an S55. It has a radial engine and, a few days later, I had the pleasure of watching it start up and fly away while I was waiting on the ramp in my helicopter for my dispatcher to send me to an orchard.

This ship is in pristine condition, with seating for 7 on the lower level. What an excellent air-taxi ship this would make. Imagine flying into Scottsdale with this one? It would sure turn a few heads.

This is another Sikorsky. Not quite as pretty, but also used for agricultural work. They dry cherries with these. I saw this one in flight, hovering about 50 feet over an orchard. I think there’s so much downwash that they can just hover in one place and dry the whole orchard. (Which is a good thing, because they cost a fortune to fly.)

Were you looking for a Huey? How about this one?

This pretty blue Huey is also being used for agricultural work, although I didn’t see it in flight.

Here’s another helicopter you don’t see every day: a Hiller. This is one of two Hillers that supposedly came down from Canada to dry cherries.

Here’s the other Hiller in an artsy head-on shot. I love the old helicopters with the big glass bubbles — but I sure wouldn’t want to fly one in the Arizona sun. A buddy of mine in Arizona has one and I think he’s nuts.

And here’s the pair of them, parked side by side.

There was a JetRanger there, too, but I didn’t take pictures of it. After all, you can see a JetRanger anywhere.

As cherry drying season is winding down to an end, most of these helicopters might be gone. I know the Sikorskys are based there. If you’re in the area, why not see for yourself? You can find them at Brewster Airport in Brewster, WA.

Now Read This: If do you stop by for a visit, remember to keep your hands and other body parts off the helicopters. They’re not toys and they’re not for you or your kids to climb on. It’s a Federal offense to mess with any aircraft — really! Remember that airport property is for authorized personnel; if you’re asked to leave, please do.

And if you like looking at aviation-related photos, I hope you’ll check out my Aviation photo gallery.

This afternoon, while slowly steaming in my camper with the air conditioner on full-blast, I took a moment to connect to the Internet, check my e-mail, and check up on my Twitter friends. One of them, Highway 89 Project photographer Ann Torrence, had linked to a blog post she’d just updated, “Collection of Airport Codes.” In it, she wrote about her dislike of flying and provided a table of codes for the airports she’s been to.

It’s interesting to me because the average person doesn’t pay much attention to the three- or four-character airport codes that are part of a pilot’s life. For each airport listed — and she listed airports all around the world — she included a very brief comment about her experience there.

While I’m not nearly as well-travelled as Ann, I’m pretty sure that I’ve been to more airports. In many cases, however, I was the pilot in command when I landed at the airport. I have my own story for each of the airports I’ve landed at. So I decided that it might make a good theme for future blog posts about flying.

This, in turn, triggered an idea for a meme — something that other pilots who blog could write about, too. What are the airports that you’ve landed at? Pick one and write about it. You can write about why you went there, what you were flying, or what it was like. You can write about the perfect weather or nasty crosswind or unreasonably hot temperatures. You can write about the coffee in the FBO, the courtesy car, or the line guy — or lack thereof. You can write about the people you were with and what they thought when you made that perfect landing — or two, or three. (Just teasing my airplane friends.)

If you pick up this meme and spread it, please do use the Comment link or form below to post a comment with the URL for the blog post you created. Be sure to say a little bit about the post when commenting to prevent my spam protection software from thinking it’s just spam and deleting it. (It tends to delete comments that contain only links, especially if there’s more than one link.) As long as the link points to a post in this meme as described here, it’ll stay. You can copy any part of this post to spread a description of the meme, as long as you link back to this post so others who follow it will add their links to the comments here.

In the meantime, I’ll start writing my own posts about some of the airports I’ve landed at. I’ll try to keep it interesting.

I hope those of you who have blogs will join the fun. Because, as we all know, an airport is far more than the three- or four-character code that represents it on charts, publications, and GPSes. I want to read your stories.

I guess you can say I’m an Obama supporter. After all, I’d rather see him in the Oval Office than McCain. Like so many other people, I think McCain (1) is too old and (2) will give us yet another 4 years of Bush-like decision making. And although I may be part of the higher-income group that won’t benefit from Obama’s economic plan, I really think it’s time to stop letting the ultra-rich ride the U.S. economy without paying their fair share.

When it was Obama vs. Hillary, I couldn’t decide. I’m not registered as a Democrat, so I couldn’t vote in the primaries. I had to let others decide. I don’t even know which one Arizona chose. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the final result. When Hillary dropped out, I felt relief — not because I preferred Obama, but because I (like most other Americans) was sick of the media coverage on the race.

But since then, I have yet to be convinced that Obama is a better candidate than Hillary. (Or that Hillary would be better than Obama, for that matter.)

And no, I don’t subscribe to any of the bullshit satirized on the New Yorker cover. Although I found the illustration distasteful, I certainly do understand the concept of satire. Unfortunately, much of middle America doesn’t and is likely to find the illustration confirmation of their misguided beliefs.

On the pro side, I believe Obama does represent hope and change. He’s young, he gets people excited, and he does not represent the same political establishment we’ve been looking at for years. I believe he does have the country’s well-being at the top of his list of interests.

But on the con side, I think Obama lacks the experience necessary to get things done in our government. I think he’ll have to waste a lot of time and effort getting his ball rolling in the establishment he’s so obviously not a part of. If he wins, he’ll have a struggle ahead of him to succeed in his goals.

McCain sometimes applies the word “naive” to Obama; I don’t think that’s too far from the truth. But I also think that Obama has the intelligence and drive to rise above that.

Still, Obama’s rise in our government has me troubled. He’s come a long way in a short time and doesn’t have much to show for it. After all, when you’re sprinting to the finish line, you can’t stop much along the way to get things done. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.

But what makes me hopeful for a President Obama this week is the reception he’s getting in Europe. The Europeans evidently love him. That alone is a point in his favor.

On September 11, 2001, America was the victim of a horrific act of terrorism. We suddenly had the good will and support of most of the world. The Bush administration, through its independent actions and attitudes, has squandered all that goodwill. This cannot be argued. Not only does most of the world now look down on us, but we’re actually hated in many parts of the world.

While many Americans are convinced that we’re better than anyone else and have some kind of God-given right to do whatever we want to do, I believe America is part of a global community. We need to be a team player. We need to work with our allies for the good of the world.

I believe that Obama understands that, too. But what’s more important is that the rest of the world might see Obama as a team player in the global political scene. Because no matter how low Bush’s opinion ratings are here in the U.S., I’m willing to bet they’re a lot lower overseas.

Comments? Please do share them. Use the Comments link or form below. Just keep it civil, okay?

Washington state is widely known for its cheap, reliable electric power. One reason it’s cheap is because it’s hydroelectric — the Columbia and other rivers in Washington have been dammed up with numerous hydroelectric plants, many of them built as part of the New Deal in the 1930s. (An interesting side note here: we visited the Grand Coulee Dam and learned on the tour that power wasn’t one of the reasons the dam was originally built. The two primary reasons were irrigation and flood control. I really ought to write about that tour in another post.)

Anyway, Washington is also on the leading edge of renewable power generation from wind generators or windmills. Puget Sound Energy (PSE) has two facilities, one of which is on a series of ridges in Kittitas County, 18 miles east of Ellensburg. This Wild Horse Wind Facility is clearly visible from my camp just south of Quincy, about 20 air miles away. It’s also open to the public for tours. So on Saturday afternoon, feeling a dire need to get away from the book project I’m working on, I headed out to see the place close up.

It’s easy to get to. From I-90, take the exit for Vantage, which is on the west side of the Columbia River. After stopping for a burger at Blustery’s, head up the old Vantage Highway. You’ll get to the turn for Wild Horse about 12 miles up the road. It’s hard to miss — the road is clearly marked and you can see lots of windmills from the main road.

Follow the entrance road about three miles as it winds up a hill. You’ll pass a bunch of windmills along the way — the road actually passes quite close to a few of them. Eventually, you’ll see the Visitor Center at the top of the site. Behind it are a few windmills that, when seen with the building in front, look absolutely enormous.

When I arrived, an all-girls camp group was there. The girls were in their early teens. I managed to latch on to one of their tours, which included a walk up eight or so steps into the tower at the bottom of one of the windmills. Afterward, I wandered around a bit, got technical information about the facility, and took plenty of photos.

Want some stats? The facility is on a 9,000 acre site overlooking the Columbia River Basin. It was started up in December 2006 with 127 wind turbines. Each turbine is capable of producing up to 1.8 megawatts of power in 31 mph winds, for a total of 229 megawatts. The turbines start generating power at 9 mph of wind and are programmed to feather their blades and basically shut down when winds exceed 56 mph to avoid damage. Since the site is usually pretty windy, the facility does a pretty good job generating power.

Each turbine sits atop a 221-foot tall tower. (See the flight of steps at the very bottom of the tower in this photo? It has about 8 steps. That should give you an idea of scale.) The foundations go down 25 to 32 feet and each have 120 anchor bolts around the 13-foot wide tower base. The bolts are huge, as you might imagine.

The turbines, which are manufactured in Denmark, generate power at 690 volts. A transformer inside the turbine housing, steps up the power to 34.5 kilovolts. These turbines are atop the tower (of course) and are about the size of a typical RV or motorhome. They’re reached from a ladder inside the tower.

The blades are also huge. There was one on display outside the visitor center and I snapped a photo with my fisheye lens (which explains the distortion) of the girls gathered around it. Each of a windmill’s three blades is 129 feet long, 11.6 wide near the hub, and 1.6 feed wide at the tip. They’re made of composite materials, are hollow, and weigh 7 tons each. When you figure the length of the rotor blade into the total maximum height of the windmill, you get 351 feet.

It’s no wonder I can see them from 20 miles away.

We all know that the environmentalists are concerned about windmills and their impact on birds and bats. I asked about this. I was told that the facility averages 2 dead birds per turbine per year. I think more are killed being hit by cars. The folks at Wild Horse take the situation seriously and collect and bag all birds found. Bats are not an issue there.

For me, the most amazing part of visiting the windmills was the sound they made as they were spinning. I used my CoolPix camera to record a video. There’s a bit of wind noise, but you should be able to clearly hear the sound, should you decide to play the video.

After my tour in the Visitor Center vicinity, I hopped on the truck and followed the dirt road around the facility. I was out to take photos and I got a few interesting ones.

If you’re in the area, I recommend a visit to the Wild Horse Wind Facility. Try calling 888-225-5773 if you need more info; I can’t seem to find the official Web site for the facility.

And if there’s a wind or other alternative energy facility open to the public for tours in your area, make it a point to visit with your kids. It’s a great way to learn about energy options.

On Saturday, on my way back from Ellensburg, I stopped off in George to buy a quart of milk. George is 5 miles south of my camper, and despite the fact that I’d driven past the town a half dozen times, I’d never stopped there.

The cleanest looking place in town to buy milk was the 76 gas station. I pulled in and parked. That’s when I spotted the bronze bust of George Washington. Moments later, I realized I was in George, Washington. (Duh-uh.) And then I realized that the 76 (as in 1776) sign was right behind George’s head.

So I took the photo.

Am I the only one who thinks this whole thing is funny?

Sorry about sharing so much photography lately, but I’m going through my photos and adding the best ones — or at least the ones I like best — to my Photo Gallery. Along the way, it seems logical to write something about them.

I made these about a month ago, during a nighttime photo shoot around the Colockum (formerly Quincy Valley) Golf Course. I thought I’d put them online already, but I can’t seem to find them. So here they are: the three best from that shoot.

Quincy Valley Golf

The Quincy Valley Golf Course and RV Park was built a number of years ago by a now semi-retired man named Chuck. It started out with nine holes, built on a farm field. Chuck later added another nine holes and developed some extra land as RV lots in an “adults only” community. (The small RV park near the pro shop is where I’m parked for the season.) According to Chuck, who now handle the RV park irrigation and landscaping, the golf course was well-maintained and featured ponds and landscaping. For various reasons, he sold it to a man who was a golf-lover. Over the course of not very many years, the man drove the facility into the ground. He went bankrupt and eventually sold out to the Port of Quincy. When I arrived in June, they were busy fixing the place back up. They’ve done a nice job in only a few months and I think the Colockum Golf Course — it’s new name — has a good future here.

But this sign, which is lighted at night, remains to remind us of the golf course’s past. It’s a great old-style sign that may not be in the best condition, but still calls out to passersby on busy state route 281 as they drive between Quincy, five miles north, and George, five miles south. My favorite part? The silhouetted golfer is wearing knickers. During the day, the sign is rather nondescript and not very interesting.

Night Tractor

The golf course is in the middle of farmland. All around are fields growing wheat, feed corn, potatoes, alfalfa, and other crops. There are all kinds of farm vehicles all over the place.

This tractor is parked in front of a metal building not far from the Quincy Golf sign. It’s illuminated by a single tungsten light fixture over the door to the metal building behind the camera. The camera picks up the greenish hue of the night, emphasizing the green of the tractor. The photo was taken not long after sunset, when there was still a bit of light in the sky.

I like the photo because the tractor makes me think of a sleeping monster — powerful, yet peaceful at rest.

Stop

The golf course and its RV park are on the corner of a busy intersection. State route 281 runs north/south between Quincy and George. Road 5, also known as White Trail Road, is a sort of Quincy bypass, that runs east/west and then north/south, west of Quincy. Because it bypasses the traffic light (and minor traffic) in town, its popular with truckers traveling between I-90, five miles south, and Wenatchee, 35 miles northwest.

There’s no traffic light on the corner. Instead, Road 5 has a stop sign. To make that sign extra visible at night, it has a pair of blinking red lights on it. This time exposure was long enough to catch both lights on, illuminating the sign. This must be enough — in the nearly two months I’ve been here, there hasn’t been an accident at the corner yet.

If you like these photos, I hope you’ll check out my After Dark photo gallery.

I’ve been taking photos of the moon for years — since I first developed an interest in photography.

I remember one of my first experiments. I was in my late teens, away at college. My dorm room was on the top (14th) floor of one of the university’s six dorm towers. My room faced east. At moonrise one night, I set up my camera and tripod and took several long exposures of the rising disc. I developed the film — remember that stuff? — and was very disappointed with the results. The moon wasn’t round. It was oval. And there were no features. Why? Because my long exposure was too long and the moon moved during the shot.

Time passed. I stopped dating a photographer, graduated from college, and got on with my life. Photography wasn’t very important to me. Photographing the moon was, in my mind, something I simply couldn’t do.

More time passed. Enter digital cameras. They’ve done more for photo experimentation than any other development (pun intended). I could try all kinds of things and see results immediately (on a tiny screen) or almost immediately (on a 24-in high resolution computer monitor. How does a change in shutter speed, aperture, focal length, or lens filter affect my image? Try it and see! (The trick, of course, is to pay attention and remember what it is you’re trying. Remembering is not one of my strengths.)

So I tried shooting the moon again. I shot some photos of a lunar eclipse this past February. They weren’t bad. In fact, some of the folks who saw them liked them a lot. But I wasn’t satisfied. Not enough detail. Not clear enough.

Last month I tried again. It was my first full moon in Quincy. I was camped out at the Quincy Golf Course, which has an “RV park” connected to it. (The quotes are because there are only 5 full hookup sites, a bunch of partial hookup sites, and no other RV parklike facilities.) I brought my tripod out to take some photos of various things in night lighting. I got a bunch of good photos — check my Photo Gallery to see a few of them — but my shots of the moon were not among them. I liked these two the best. In the first, I lined up the moon with the Quincy Golf sign. The moon looks like a big golf ball. In the second, I shot the moon when it was still quite low. My camera angle included the road (State Route 281), which is heavily trafficked. The lines are the lights of cars and trucks whizzing by during the relatively long exposure.

The other day, I tried again just after moonrise. I used my 70-300mm lens, dialed in to 300mm with image stabilization on. I put it on a tripod. And then a shot a bunch of photos, examining each one after I shot it. I realized that the moon was too bright. And then my brain kicked in. What makes a photo too bright? Too much light; overexposure. What do you do if a photo is overexposed? Reduce the amount of light coming in. How do you reduce the light coming in? Two ways: close down the lens or increase the shutter speed.

Or, on my camera, just set exposure compensation to underexpose the photo.

So I set the exposure compensation to the minus side of the meter. At first, I set it 1/3 stop. I took a shot. No appreciable difference. A full stop. Better. Two stops. Much better; I could now see some detail on the moon’s face. Three stops, now beyond what the meter can show. Great. With each change, the camera increased the shutter speed. So I was actually killing two birds with one stone: I was decreasing the amount of light that came into the camera to avoid washout of the moon’s surface and increasing the shutter speed to shorten up my exposure, thus preventing blur from the moon’s movement.

Want to see the differences over time? Here are six shots. The first was taken without exposure compensation at 9:03 PM. The others were taken with various amounts of exposure compensation from 9:10 PM through 9:11 PM, about 12 seconds apart.

Aperture: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/40 second
Exposure Bias: 0

Aperture: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/60 second
Exposure Bias: -1

Aperture: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/80 second
Exposure Bias: -1

Aperture: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/120 second
Exposure Bias: -2

Aperture: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/200 second
Exposure Bias: -2.67

Aperture: f5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/250 second
Exposure Bias: -2.67

None of these images have been retouched. All I did was bring them into Photoshop, crop them to a 600 pixel square, and then reduce the resolution to 72 dpi.

But with a tiny bit of sharpening in Photoshop, at a higher resolution, the final photo doesn’t look bad at all:

What do you think? Have you used any special techniques to shoot the moon or other objects at night? Use the Comments link or form at the bottom of this post to share your secrets.

On Saturday, I treated myself to an afternoon outing. My intended destination was the Wild Horse Wind Facility in Kittitas County. But I made a few stops along the way. One of them was the Interpretive Center for the Ginkgo Petrified Forest State Park near Vantage, WA, on the Columbia River.

I’m familiar with petrified wood. Arizona is home of the Petrified Forest National Monument (on I-40, east of Winslow) and I’ve been there a few times. But this forest was different. In Arizona, the wood was petrified as it became part of sedimentary rock. Here, the wood was encased in lava. But the results are similar: wood that’s been turned to rock.

I’ll admit I did the lazy tourist routine. I didn’t take a hike on the 3 miles of trails. It was hot and the trails were hilly. And I did have another destination. Instead, I stopped at the Interpretive Center about a mile north of Vantage. The small building offered sweeping views of the Columbia River from a cliffside perch, as well as many samples of polished petrified wood, scientific exhibits for all ages, and a small movie theater with visitor’s choice of informational movies about the area.

After studying the various displays, I went outside. There we numerous petrified logs between the building and the parking area. I had my good camera with me and tried to get some shots of the textures of these logs. Here’s one of them. What I find most interesting about petrified wood is the colors. While I’m sure there’s a good chemical and geological explanation for all the colors, it would probably be lost on me. I don’t really care how they got the colors. I just like the colors.

Around the side of the building is a display, behind an iron fence, of some petroglyphs that were rescued from floodwaters when the Wanapum dam was completed downriver in 1963. But to understand why the rocks these drawing appear on look so uniform, I need to discuss the geology of the area a bit.

The entire area sits on layers of basalt from repeated lava flows in prehistoric times. With each flow, the land rose. Then, 15,000 to 13,000 years ago, a huge lake, Glacial Lake Missoula, formed in what is now Montana. It broke through the “