The Rocks

28,000’  Northwest bound.

 We have a quick trip to the mountains to pick up a couple heli-skiers who have had their fill and just want to go home. The two ladies (sisters) have a rather arduous journey ahead of them this cold day in January. They will hop in an A-Star helicopter from a remote camp and fly VFR over to the small 4,000 ft runway tucked far inside the Rocky Mountains where we will meet them with the Beech and shuttle them IFR over to an international airport where they will catch an Airbus that will carry them back to their home country across the pond. 

The weather at destination is not reported, but the helicopter pilots say it’s ‘decent’.  Decent to a fling-wing pilot differs somewhat from a fixed wing pilot, but I decide to launch based on that professional assessment anyways.  As we start out it is an absolutely gorgeous morning – good vis and no bumps. Did someone say coffee? Why yes, I think I will have a cup with my smile today.

Of course as we near destination, the clouds start to gather in the valleys threatening us pilots with actual work (in the form of a full approach procedure). Now there seems to be more stratus than granite so we reluctantly load up the approach and request a clearance to the initial approach waypoint. This airport is served only with a GPS approach, and the minimums are quite high as it sits low in a valley protected on 3 sides by sharp looking mountains reaching to 11,000 ft. We hear some static and then some silence. We repeat our request. Static then silence. Even at this altitude we are out of range of ATC. Then, crisp and clear from a Boeing high overhead comes ‘Hey you in the Beech, Center clears you outta high level controlled airspace in the vicinity of XXXX’. Roger dodger. Thanks for the relay. We’re on our own now.

  As we pass just south of the airport enroute to the initial waypoint, we spot a hole in the undercast. Should we? It is the siren call of shortcutting – drop through the hole and we can avoid a long slow IMC approach... Not gonna happen though. I hear they make those hills out of some pretty hard stuff.  

So we continue on. Descend. Level out. Turn. Descend. Slow down. Approach flap. Level out. Turn. Descend into the stratus. Light to moderate icing. Descend again. We break out of the clouds and we are staring down the barrel of the runway, but thousands of feet too high to make it a straight-in landing, as expected due to the type and location of the approach. Gear down to slow us down. We fly overhead and see the runway is mostly cleared of snow and join the downwind in a continuous descent all the way around until final. Speed checks - flaps all the way down, flick a couple more switches and the landing checklist is complete. Vref and touchdown. Maximum reverse then light braking and we make the taxiway.

The weather in the mountains really does change rapidly. We were on the ground for about 20 minutes, and in that time that hole we passed on our way in infected the air around it and went viral which enabled a nice VFR departure and an even nicer ride home.

Who knows where we’re going to be tomorrow...