Hitting the slopes

Later I plunked the strange looking nosewheel “Cub” onto the turf only to be remonstrated by Brad Damm, CubCrafters vice president of sales and marketing. “Oh, no,” he chastened from the back seat. “We’re going to try that again and this time you’re really going to stomp on the brakes.” So away we went around the patch again. This time I all but stood on the brakes as soon as the mains touched. The fat nosegear slammed down, the airframe lurched a little on the grass, and we stopped in probably 200 feet. “That’s more like it,” I heard from behind me. Introduced a couple of years ago after years of development, the nosegear Cub takes off shorter and lands shorter than the tailwheel variant, according to Damm, who predicts that within a couple of years it will outsell all the tailwheel variants from CubCrafters.

My quick intro to NXCub flying was only the start of a remarkable weekend of mountain flying for a small group of pilots exploring the backcountry. It was mostly “backcountry-lite” as many of the places we visited were accessible to most light GA airplanes—and even to the Daher Kodiak turboprop that joined us the next day.

Over the couple of days, I flew or flew in a Cessna 185, an Aviat Husky, and the Kodiak—in addition to the NXCub. We traversed parts of Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana, spotting Old Faithful from the air, Yellowstone Lake, the Tetons, and a big swath of the mountains north of Yellowstone National Park.

Saturday morning a dozen airplanes landed at Nine Quarter Circle Ranch in Gallatin Gateway, Montana, for breakfast. The ranch has numerous cabins and a grass runway, open to guests with prior permission required for landing. The regular guests, none of whom had flown in, stood along the split-rail fence and watched excitedly as one after another of the airplanes plopped onto the runway, which most days is “mowed” by grazing horses. Watch where you step.

From our aerial machines, we saw vistas that only a few generations of humans have ever witnessed, but birds have been seeing for millennia.The ranch hands quickly had a full breakfast in front us.

What was most remarkable about the lineup of airplanes was how diverse they were. We had a Flight Design CTLS light sport airplane, a kitbuilt Glasair Sportsman, a couple of Aviat Huskys, two Kitfoxes with turbocharged Rotax engines that performed remarkably well at high density altitudes, a Cessna 180, three Cessna 185s, a Piper Super Cub, and the Kodiak turboprop.

This unusual collection motored easily among the mountains on the pristine weather days we were afforded, our airplanes proving to be remarkable viewing platforms. In the hands of pilots who knew the area well, we safely flew through passes and canyons oohing and aahing at the wonder of nature and geology. One really does feel insignificant, our time here but a nanosecond in geologic time. From our aerial machines, we saw vistas that only a few generations of humans have ever witnessed, but birds have been seeing for millennia.

Although the temperatures were warmer than usual, the winds were lighter than normal, allowing us plenty of flying opportunities over the extended August weekend. No doubt about it, mountain flying is alluring on days like that. But not all days are like that. Winds, clouds, icing, and, of course, density altitude can make many days not flyable at all. Winds in particular can limit flying many days to only early mornings. By afternoon, turbulence can suck all the fun out of flying in the lee of the ridges.

Every year, pilots lose airplanes and sometimes their lives because they don’t respect the limits of mountain flying.

Be smart if you go. Take a mountain flying course and then fly with someone knowledgeable about the local terrain and weather conditions. Sharing the experience with someone else is half the fun and flying with someone who knows the ropes quells much of the stress of flying among the peaks and valleys.

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