Trip Planning
We love our place in Colorado. There’s something about the mountains for me that just feels a little bit like heaven. It’s going to sound strange, then, that we never saw our place without snow in 2024. With all of Mom’s health problems last year—eventually passing away in December—along with weddings for two of our kids and various other commitments, we never made it there from spring through fall. I had this silly idea that 2025 was going to be less busy than 2024. It has been a different kind of busy, but busy nonetheless, and with fall approaching, we hadn’t been back since our last ski trip in March.
I blocked off Labor Day Weekend, and we made plans to spend the weekend in the mountains and hopefully, if the weather cooperated, stop in Phoenix on the way back to California to visit Dad. Phoenix had been experiencing some of the afternoon thunderstorms they’re known for this time of year, including an incredible haboob that you may have seen videos of as it swallowed Sky Harbor Airport.
One week out, I started watching Windy for the trends, and as the week progressed, I was more hopeful that the Phoenix pit stop would work out. I didn’t let Dad know, planning to just surprise him if it happened. He’s really struggling with his memory, and the “might stop by” idea would likely just cause confusion.
Friday morning, we headed to the airport and loaded up the plane. Fullerton (KFUL) to Pagosa Springs (KPSO) is right on the edge of my range if the winds are calm. My personal minimum is to be on the ground with 10 gallons in one tank, which gives me right about 4 hours of flight time. If I’m honest, that’s also about an hour past the range of my backside, but I’ll do it if it means the trip is over without a stop.
With favorable winds but a chance of scattered thunderstorms along the route, I planned for a fuel stop in Williams, AZ (KCMR). If I needed to go around storms, I wanted extra fuel. The flight to Williams was beautiful, with the sun rising in the east and some scattered clouds adding variety to the view after we passed the Hualapai Mountains. There were also a few bumps as we entered some less stable air.
A Sporty Landing in Williams, AZ
Williams is a great fuel stop. It’s right about the halfway point, chopping the trip into around two-hour legs, and sitting at 6,690’, there isn’t much time spent in descent or climbing back up to cruise. Every airport has pluses and minuses, and for Williams, it’s the winds. They are often squirrely, and this flight was no different. The AWOS was reporting 9 gusting 15 (which doesn’t sound too bad) but shifting over 70° from 160 to 230. We were landing on 18, so there was a chance they would either be down the runway or 50° from the right.
Me: “Shifting winds from 160 to 230, winds are like eeeeee,” I said, waving my hand from side to side.
Kathy: “Do you want to go somewhere else for gas?”
Me: “No, that’s fine.”
Kathy: “Just be sporty?”
Me: “Yeah, it’ll be sporty. Be on the rudders.”
We continued the approach from the west, bouncing a little more as we got closer to the ground and the mechanical turbulence came into play. Coming in from the west, we crossed over midfield to enter the pattern on a left downwind and came around to land. Coming down final, I was making constant adjustments with the rudder pedals and yoke. I stayed a little faster than normal to account for the gust factor and for more rudder authority in the event they were more crosswind than headwind.
Kathy really has her “sea legs.” Or is it “air legs” when you’re flying? She knows distractions are a bad deal when landing. The wheels were just about to kiss the ground when a little gust lifted us back up for some more float and adjustments of the yoke before settling down for good. She didn’t make a peep, no gestures with her arms—the only indication that she didn’t “enjoy” it was the momentary grimace I saw when watching video later.
Me: “There we go!”
Kathy: “Rodeo!”
Me: “That was sporty!”
I filled both tanks, we stretched our legs, and we stopped in the FBO to use the restroom. I took advantage of having cell service to take a look at the current radar picture along our route. There were some storms to the south of the route, but nothing that looked like it would be threatening.
The density altitude was 8,700’, giving us a longer ground roll before the Mooney departed the ground. I pushed the nose over, pulled up the gear, let the speed build, lifted flaps, a little more speed, and settled in to about a 400 fpm climb back to 9,500’. We made our way past Humphrey’s Peak, which was shrouded in clouds, and across the Painted Desert and Black Mesa before passing the Chinle Valley and flying right over Ship Rock, its jagged peak jutting up from the valley floor and spines stretching out to the south and west.
The sky slowly transitioned from a scattered layer to full overcast. Eventually, the clouds decided they had more moisture than they could hold, and a very light rain was falling, hopefully cleaning some of the bugs off the leading edges. Visibility was still great at over 10 miles despite the light rain, and we were soon flying up the valley cut by the Piedra River, past the familiar sight of Chimney Rock, and over Pagosa Springs. We landed in light rain and taxied to transient, stepping out into what felt like a little more than the 7-knot winds reported by the AWOS.
We had a great weekend: hiked to Piedra Falls, saw a lot of deer wander through our yard, and even had an appearance by a brown bear across the street. Sunday evening, I was 90% sure the Phoenix stop would work but told my wife I would make the final decision in the morning.
Arizona Bound
Monday morning, I got up and sat down at my computer to review the weather. The forecast on Windy and Aviationweather.gov were both showing the same thing: thunderstorms over the mountains east of Phoenix by midday, moving into the Phoenix area by early evening, and then dissipating later in the evening. This was backed up by the TAF at Mesa Gateway, which lists few clouds at 13,000’ and scattered clouds at 25,000’ for most of the day. There are increased winds of 15 gusting 30 with 5 miles visibility and blowing dust listed from 6-8pm (courtesy of those storms east of the valley), but I figured that if we were airborne for California by 5pm, we’d be in good shape. I have to be at work on Tuesday, so if it comes down to it, we can wait out a storm and fly home later.
We reluctantly said goodbye to our Colorado home and took off heading southwest toward Gallup, NM. Above the Chuska Mountains to the west, there were already some clouds developing with some good vertical movement. Pointing toward them, I told my wife, “Those baby clouds are going to grow into thunderstorms later this morning.” Over 70 miles to the southeast, I could see the towering clouds of a massive thunderstorm over the White Mountains, but those were moving to the northwest and not a factor for our flight or the Phoenix area later in the day.
The mountains east of the Salt River Lakes gave us one last section of bumps as a goodbye before we began our descent down the canyon and entered a left base for runway 12C at Mesa Gateway. After following the lineman’s directions to a tie-down and shutting down, he came up and asked us our plans. I told him we’re just there for the afternoon and plan to leave by 5pm. He took our fuel order and said he’ll chock all three tires, and if something pops up, he’ll make sure we’re tied down. I’m not too worried—three different sources told me we should be good if we’re in the air by 5pm…
One of my sisters was waiting for us, and we made the drive over to Dad’s house, where he was very surprised to see us. The afternoon was great, just sitting around visiting. I periodically checked the radar picture on my phone, and everything still looked clear in the valley. I knew if we were on our way at 4pm, we could arrive, pre-flight, and be in the air by 5pm. A little after 3pm and again at 3:30, I checked the time for an Uber. Both times, it was about 10 minutes for a pickup.
I briefly considered leaving at 3:30pm—after all, Dad probably wouldn’t remember what time we left, and he had been dozing off and on—but I just couldn’t get myself to commit to leaving. Last November, when I gave Mom a hug as we left, I didn’t know it would be the last time I would see her, and even if I was just watching him nap, I wanted that extra 30 minutes. At 3:45pm, I pulled up the Uber app again, which was now showing 20 minutes to pick up. I checked Lyft, and it was the same time frame but a little less expensive, so I scheduled it.
Probably not good when the FBO calls you
Just then, my phone rang—it was the FBO. I haven’t had the FBO call me before, and my mind started racing as I answered the call.
FBO: “Hi, Mr. Brown?”
Me: “Hey, how are you?”
FBO: “Good, are you still planning to leave at 1700?”(I thought, “That’s an odd phone call to make.”)Me: “Yes, we’re heading to the airport in a few minutes.”
FBO: “Ok, well there’s some storms popped up coming our way, and I wanted to know if we needed to tie you down.”
Me: “Thanks, we’ll be there soon.”
FBO: “Ok, we’ll keep an eye on it and tie you down if it gets closer.”
I hung up the phone and pulled up the radar picture. Sure enough, in less than an hour, it went from clear to a line of cells heading straight for the airport. I watched the time lapse repeatedly, trying to judge the speed while at the same time trying to will the Lyft ride to get here faster. I took a picture with Dad, we said our goodbyes, and he walked us out to the street as the ride pulled up.
There really aren’t any hills in the valley, and you can see storms approaching from a distance—and I didn’t like what I saw. It’s only about a 15-minute ride to the airport, and I’m watching the clouds rolling toward us along with a wall of dust that is kicking up. Time to make the call.
FBO: “Gateway Aviation, can I help you?”
Me: “Yeah, it’s Richard with 1015E. We’re not going to get out in front of this—will you please tie it down?”
FBO: “We already have someone out there tying it down.”
Me: “Thanks, see you in a few minutes.”
We got to the airport and walked our stuff out to the plane before heading back in to wait it out. I pulled my ballcap a little tighter on my head as the winds kicked up and watched as the commercial airliners and control tower 2,500’ away started disappearing in the approaching dust. Inside the restaurant, we watched the rain pelting the window and a Cessna Citation landing on 12R—the last plane to get in before the storm hit. It taxied up in front of the FBO, and everyone got out and headed for the door as the rain became a little heavier.
I watched the weather outside the window and on my phone as I enjoyed a brat and some fries while my wife had some fish and chips. I made a mental note to get the fish and chips next time. Less than an hour later, it had blown through, and there’s a big break before the next cells arrive. If we take off and head southeast for about 20-30 miles before turning west, we can go around the storm that just blew through.
Sneaking out between storms
Not wanting to miss our window, I headed out to the plane to pre-flight while my wife settled the bill. Passing through the lobby, I saw the pilot of the Citation.
“You guys barely snuck in ahead of that,” I said.
He replied, “I don’t think we were ahead of it—I had full rudder in.”
I’m finishing up pre-flight and ready to climb in as my wife walks up to the plane. As we fly over the desert, I can see just how much rain the storm dumped south of the airport. What hit the airport was mild in comparison—everything was saturated. Off our right wing is the storm that just passed, the occasional bolt of lightning making an appearance. We’re at 5,500’, and looking level at the wall of dust, I’m amazed at how high it goes.
The storm is moving to the northwest, and as we pass the southern edge of it, we start turning west into the sun and California. The flight is smooth, and we eventually climb up to cooler air at 10,500’ for the remainder of the flight. We’re still about 80 miles east of the Banning Pass when we watch the sun set twice. First, it disappears completely behind a cloud layer before reappearing below it and finally dropping below the horizon. The things we get to see when we’re flying are amazing. Just another amazing weekend trip made possible by our Mooney Time Machine.
