May Grey

Yesterday, I checked off another new airport -- this time in Pasco, Washington. The picture at right is a view of the Columbia River while descending toward the field. Having only seen the airport, I have no idea what Pasco itself is like. Perhaps someday I will be overnight there. This would be my second time to Washington state and I have not yet walked more than 10 feet away from the plane. Someday. . .
Throughout the entire day, the San Francisco bay area was entirely clear. As surprising as this was, it did not hold true for the central coast, where we shot an instrument approach to Santa Maria.


Santa Maria is part of California's wine country and Tripadvisor didn't offer up any things to do in Santa Maria that didn't involve wine, except one thing that was walkable from the airport hotel. That thing was a small aviation museum. I opened the creaking doors to the museum and three elderly gentlemen stopped their conversation and stared at me. This is exactly the scenario I saw playing out. They offered to do a tour, but I told them I'd walk around on my own. I was wearing a t-shirt with a big gold star I purchased in Vietnam, which in hindsight may have been viewed in poor taste as the workers were likely Vietnam vets.

The museum, as expected, was rather small, but one of the buildings was the hangar used in the movie, Rocketeer. I understand that most people probably haven't seen this movie, and you are missing out if you haven't. It is a highly underrated film. Anyway, there were a few aircraft parked outside, but most of the displays were scale aircraft models or other random artifacts that had no explanation. One wall had about 10 ejector seats lined up together. On the floor were a few panes of glass labeled things like, "B-17 side window." If I acquired a piece of glass from a B-17, I wouldn't display it unless I had the airplane to go with it, but to each their own.

Then they had things like this piano with various avionics and instrument gauges placed on it. Why you ask? I have no idea. There wasn't even a sign saying, "Donated by X." Perhaps the creator did not want to be associated with such an abomination. Why would someone create such a monster? For some things, there are simply no answer. Today is another day with five legs, three of them going into San Francisco where there is currently an overcast layer. Hopefully, we are not severely delayed on the last day of the trip. Here's to hoping for clear skies and favorable winds.

Santa Maria and taking the long way home

After deadheading to San Francisco to sit for four hours, we reported for duty to fly a tiny 20 minute leg from SFO to Santa Maria in California's wine country. We overnighted there and I had some time in the morning to explore the surrounding area. Across the street was Waller Park, a vastly superior park to Fresno's Woodward Park in just about every way. First off, it was free. Yes, Fresno charged me to enter their park. There's nothing good about Fresno at all. . .

. . . No!, I will not be swayed with your Tacos merchandise.








Meanwhile, back in Santa Maria, I was enjoying my leisurely stroll around the ponds across the street from our hotel. The weather was very unusual. I often find the winds in Santa Maria to be strong and the temperature to be quite cool. However, it felt more like Hawaii with very high humidity and unstable air. When we first landed, the ground was soaked. Rain? What? In California? This instability would later lead to storms in Southern California on a scale that has not been seen in years. "Interstate 5 closed due to flooding and mudslides!," echoed the news stations. "5 closed! Seek alternate routes!," they said. Very well. The following day when I planned to drive home, I sought alternate routes, taking me deep into the Mojave desert and around the 5 in an attempt to get back to LA. The problem was that while all the news stations were focused on the 5, every other major (and minor) road cutting across the mountains into LA was shut down. This detail was conveniently omitted by the crack journalism efforts of the local media.

Each barricade I encountered, Google Maps attempted to advise me of an alternate route with the false hope that I could somehow get home, but those routes also led to more barricades. Feeling defeated, I backtracked to Fresno, having driven seven hours, and using up a full tank of gas, only to end up where I started. It was one of the most stressful and frustrating days of driving I have ever experienced. Not as stressful, however, as having your car or truck stuck in a raging river of mud and debris and stranded overnight. I am extremely fortunate that I had other options at my disposal. All Fresno to LAX flights were booked up, but I was able to ask for the jumpseat and in the one stroke of luck I had all day, someone didn't show up for their flight and I was allowed to sit in the back with the normal folks. 40 minutes later I was finally home.