I’ve been flying for more than 40 years, but let there be no doubt that I still have a lot to learn, and I’ve spent the past year or so on one of the most enjoyable learning journeys of my career.
Since buying my Aviat Husky, I’ve had the pleasure of learning to fly differently. The tandem seating yields incredible views, but also a different sight picture for landings compared to other aircraft I’ve flown. The tailwheel configuration means I’ve had to master a new set of handling characteristics for taxi, takeoff, and landing. And the airplane’s special abilities on short and soft fields have led me to explore backcountry flying in a way I had never really imagined before.
Not too long ago I had a chance to put all that I’ve learned about this new-to-me kind of flying to work on a beautiful spring day near Billings, Montana. I had been traveling nonstop for about three weeks, and I was excited to have the chance to do a little flying just for the fun of it.
I borrowed a friend’s Aviat Husky A-1B and met experienced backcountry pilot Jeanne McPherson. What a learning experience she had in store for me! Jeanne runs Mountain Airdance, where she focuses on helping pilots build and improve their backcountry flying skills.
When you’re prepping for a flight in this kind of environment, you need to pay special attention to things like the condition of your brake lines and tires for those landings on very short strips, miles from anywhere. You also want to be absolutely certain you know your key speeds and how density altitude will affect your aircraft’s performance.
After a thorough review of all that and more, Jeanne took me up to try my hand at canyon flying. It’s quite an experience, and one you definitely want to try only with an experienced instructor on board.
Winds were light as we flew into the first canyon near Red Lodge, Montana. We kept close to the right side to make sure we could always turn around and fly toward lower terrain if necessary.
We also made sure we always had an exit strategy as we headed deeper into the canyon. We were rewarded with a beautiful view of sheer, rocky cliffs before we turned around and moved along the other side of the canyon.
This kind of flying is intense, so our lunch break was a welcome opportunity to relax as we talked over what we had accomplished and what was coming next—practicing precision landings on remote grass strips.
I’ve come to enjoy the language associated with this kind of flying. We discussed flying low before landing to chase off any animals, and how to look for the rise and drop of the strip. We also talked about how to figure out what the wind is doing when there’s no windsock—and no one nearby. And, of course, we talked about the obstacles we would need to clear on final approach and how and where we would turn the airplane around for takeoff.
This is just a different kind of experience than our 5,200-foot runway at Frederick Municipal Airport in Maryland provides.
With every hour of practice my skills at this type of flying improve. And it’s always nice to remember that no matter how many hours you’ve got in the left seat, there’s always something new to learn. Getting out and having those new experiences—and meeting the wonderful people along the way—is a big part of what keeps flying fresh and exciting for me, even after all these years.
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