Flight of unexpected treasures
"Good thing we have permission to be here," said my wife, Jean. "Who'd have guessed an airshow would lead us to such a place?"
In some respects the wonders of this trip had begun even before takeoff. Phoenix temperatures hovered around 115 degrees Fahrenheit at the time, so when we were invited to help out at Utah's Heber Valley Airshow, cool visions of pine-covered mountains drew our Flying Carpet northward.
| From left: final approach to the Heber City-Russ McDonald Airport; beyond the field is Deer Creek Reservoir. Vermillion rock formations south of Bryce Canyon, Utah. | |
| From left: A MiG-15 in flight and a P-51 in the foreground. A steam tractor with the pickup truck. | |
The Heber City-Russ McDonald Airport nestles in a cozy valley south of Park City. Approaching from the south over 10,000-foot peaks, we couldn't see the runway until it materialized just a few miles away and thousands of feet beneath us. Circling down over Deer Creek Reservoir, we joined a swarm of airshow arrivals in the landing pattern.
Waiting when we landed were the local volunteers who would lodge us. I'll admit to momentary disappointment when our hosts turned away from trendy Park City toward empty country, but that feeling wouldn't last. Kay and Toney raise horses with their three teenagers on an idyllic mini-ranch ringed by jade pastures and snow-covered mountains.
Enjoying refreshments in the shade of their huge porch, Jean and I felt like family members visiting paradise. It's always interesting to learn the challenges faced by others. Although familiar with water-supply issues in our own desert Southwest, Jean and I had personally experienced them only through home conservation efforts. It was an eye-opener learning of our hosts' 10-year battle to secure water rights for their property.
The airshow the next morning opened like a combustive symphony. While radial engines laid down the rhythm, radio-controlled planes soared soprano and Merlin-powered fighters roared alto; embellishing it all was the percussive crescendo of low-flying jets. Regional fly-ins like Heber Valley are crowded enough to be exciting without distancing visitors from the showplanes and their pilots. I sampled the steaming cockpit of a North American B-25 bomber from World War II and savored the aerial antics of a Korean War-era Lockheed P-80 Shooting Star jet fighter and its ruby-red Mikoyen-Gurevich MiG-15 adversary. It was hot here, even at 5,637 feet. Ninety-degree temperatures expressed better than any chart the snow-sustaining height of nearby mountains.
After the event I was helping Toney to reset crop irrigation sprinklers when he mentioned antique vehicles owned by his neighbor, Dick. I'd met Dick at the airshow and knew that he operated a Cessna 206 out of a private airstrip, but I had heard nothing of the collection.
"Would you like to see it?" asked Toney.
"You bet!" I replied.
After phoning for permission, we picked up Kay and Jean and began wandering Dick's property. Sure enough, the remote ranch was peppered with collectible steam and kerosene tractors, antique autos and trucks, and even old buildings moved from other places. Most were complete and restorable. I could have spent hours exploring all the early machines--even Jean was fascinated--but then Dick showed up with a set of keys.
Leading us past a forest of ominous signs, he casually opened the door to a nondescript metal outbuilding. Inside like buried treasure was a truly astonishing motorcycle collection. Joining rare marques like King Dick and Excelsior Auto-Cycle were dozens of rare Harleys and Indians including precious pre-World War I racing machines in concours condition. I'd never seen anything like it outside of a museum.
Next we visited early storefront buildings complete with circa-1900 electric lighting and original inventory from antique hardware to gasoline-powered washing machines. Just when I thought we'd seen everything, Dick revealed a shed full of beautifully restored cars--between a pair of Packard rumble-seat roadsters and a Ford woody popcorn truck was the robin's-egg-blue 1938 Lincoln Zephyr convertible used in the movie Bugsy.
Crowning the tour was Dick's home--an avid hunter, he had filled literally every room with animal trophies. "Houseguests are sometimes unsettled by all those staring eyes," chuckled his wife, Rita, "especially on late-night visits to the bathroom."
Given its high elevation and deep-valley location, departing Heber City Airport requires planning. Warm summertime temperatures raise questions of whether an airplane can safely get off the runway and escape ground effect--and, if so, whether it can climb adequately to clear surrounding terrain. Accordingly we scheduled our departure for the cool of morning, and to minimize takeoff weight we loaded only enough fuel to safely complete the trip, plus reserve. (We'd refuel at Grand Canyon Airport if required.)
To clear terrain after takeoff, an experienced local pilot recommended a circling climb to the right until high enough to exit the valley. If unable to climb, we would proceed over the reservoir and steer down the narrow canyon toward Provo.
Once safely in the air, Jean recalled how Kay and Toney had warmly welcomed us into their family. My own mind was filled with eye candy: silvery airshow fighters and bombers, cherry-red Indian motorcycles, and Dick's satin-blue Bugsy-mobile.
Noting the cobalt depths of Deer Creek Reservoir far below, I suddenly realized that hours of colorful treasures remained to enjoy before turquoise ribbons of the Colorado River garnished orange-marmalade rock in a Grand Canyon finale.
Greg Brown was the 2000 National Flight Instructor of the Year. His books include Flying Carpet, The Savvy Flight Instructor, The Turbine Pilot's Flight Manual, Job Hunting for Pilots, and You Can Fly! Visit his Web site.
For information on the Heber Valley Aero Museum, see the Web site.
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