Flying the Edge of America
Billings, Montana
We had been grounded by the weather. Our original plan was to leave Yellowstone on Thursday, but we decided it would be wise to extend our stay until Saturday, when better conditions were forecasted. However, if one had to be stuck somewhere, I couldn’t think of a better place than Yellowstone.
Julia with a decorative buffalo in Yellowstone
Back in Oroville, an older gentleman approached me while I was refueling Matilda. He was a pilot, and we began chatting about my trip. Upon learning of my plans to fly to Yellowstone, he warned me about the dangers of the airport there. He recounted a harrowing experience he had taking off one hot summer's day, narrowly missing the trees at the end of the runway by mere inches. He explained that the airport's altitude, combined with the summer heat, results in thin, less-dense air that compromises aircraft performance. His story lingered in my mind as we prepared for our departure.
The intrepid explorer in Yellowstone
Our departure day was sunny and cloudless - ideal for navigating the high mountains surrounding Yellowstone. Although reluctant to leave, the favorable weather meant it was time to continue our adventure. We departed early in the morning to take advantage of the colder, denser air, which provides better lift for Matilda's wings. With flight plans filed and the GPS programmed, we readied ourselves for the challenging takeoff from West Yellowstone Airport, situated nearly 7,000 feet above sea level. Keeping in mind Matilda's sluggish climb above 8,000 feet and the old pilot's cautionary tale, I was filled with concern. Julia, having taken a sedative to ease her flight anxiety, appeared blissfully unaware of my apprehension.
Julia enjoying the hospitality of Billings
I pushed Matilda's throttle forward and held her brakes. Once her engine reached full power, I released the brakes, allowing her to race down the runway. At 80 knots, I gently pulled back on the control yoke, and Matilda lifted effortlessly into the air, clearing the trees with room to spare. My nerves eased as I switched off the electric fuel pump, retracted the flaps, and observed that Matilda's climb was smooth and steady. Finally, with the autopilot engaged, we ascended into the bright blue sky. My worries proved unfounded as Matilda performed a textbook takeoff.
David enjoying Billings
Downtown Billings was eerily quiet, seemingly awaiting an influx of life. Its streets, lined with a few restaurants and sidewalks, felt lonely. The emptiness stirred doubts about my decision to quit my job and embark on this adventure. I imagined a bleak future where I might end up as a faded waitress in a Best Western Motel in a place like Billings. However, my spirits lifted during dinner at Walkers, a surprisingly trendy tapas restaurant. The delightful cuisine provided a refreshing change from the typical fare of burgers, fries, and coleslaw, leaving us feeling grateful and rejuvenated.
Continue the adventure in my next excerpt from Flying the Edge of America.