Northwest Flying Photography Blog

So there I was, at twelve thousand feet and inverted when things started to go wrong…

Well, not really. I’ve been to twelve thousand feet, and I’ve been inverted, but I haven’t done both at the same time. Truth be told, I thought that it was time for some photography content on my photography blog.

Several months ago, I entered a photo contest with I think is a fairly nice photo:

Now I’m not saying that it’s a perfect shot, but it’s got some chops. If the contest was one where there were a set panel of judges that were reviewing the entries and scoring them I probably would not be writing about the outcome. However, this was one o’ them “audience participation” contests, where votes are cast by the general public, making the outcome dependant on the whim of the public and the ability of the photo submitter to generate hits from friends and family. I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with this approach, it’s just…well…I lost to these:

Which are, respectfully, an over processed airshow shot, some sort of demon baby in a cockpit, and an admittedly nice family photo where it, unfortunately, looks like the child is going to sneeze. I jest, truly…sorta.

OK, I will admit to some sour grapes, I came in at just over half the votes on the lowest scoring finalist, and just about one third the votes of the highest. But what really gets me is this. I work with computers. It would have taken me about 3 hours to write a script that sits on that page and just punches that vote button again and again and again. I coulda been a contender.

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But I just might have to pick one of these up:

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I have been known to occasionally mention Pat Robertson in this blog. I admit, I was just looking for an excuse to do so again.

I was not likely to vote for Rudy Giuliani, but yesterday’s announcement that My Good Buddy Pat has endorsed his candidacy for president has certainly sealed the deal. You see, Pat is a nutjob, a raving looney, and a jack ass. None of which makes his endorsement a shiny golden feather to be placed in the cap of a presidential candidate. I’m not really one to devote too much time to presidential politics this early in the race, but I now have narrowed the field a bit in my mind.

I was probably going to vote democrat anyway…maybe.

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Last Saturday I took my son Cyrus up for his first small airplane ride. The Lovely Wife and I decided that there was no need to wait for his first birthday. It was a sunny day and we decided to fly to Friday Harbor for some lunch. As this was also the last time I will be able to be PIC in an aircraft, it was somewhat of a bittersweet event. As always, the flight started at Harvey Field (S43). There were only a few aircraft coming in and out of the pattern, so getting up and on our way didn’t take so to long.

Cyrus had a good time in that he didn’t really care that we were 2,500 feet in the air. He was not really into looking out the window or playing with the yoke. With his being only 11 months old this wasn’t really surprising. Really, until he’s at least 2 years old, these types of things are more for the parents than anything else. Once he’s older I’ll try to save up some money to get current and take him up again when he’s a bit more aware if what is happening.

It did turn out to be a great day for flying. We flew over the Whidbey Navel Air Station and were treated to a P-3 Orion in the landing pattern about 1,500 feet below us. Friday harbor was a bit busier than Harvey, as is normal for a sunny day, but we got in and down with out a problem. We then walked to The Flying Burrito, only to find that it was not open on Saturdays anymore. This meant a bit longer walk into town to find some food. We ended up at Dos Diablos, another Mexican joint in town. It wasn’t as good as The Flying Burrito.

After lunch we headed back to Harvey, again transitioning the Whidbey Class C airspace. There was a Cessna 152 in front of us leaving Friday Harbor, which was kind of nice as I think it was the first time I actually got to pass another aircraft in flight. ‘Course the Baron that zipped by us a few minutes later took away any feelings of superiority.

Once back at Harvey we entered the pattern #2 behind a Cherokee and tied down for 1.4 on the Hobbs.

All things considered, it was a good first flight for Cyrus and last flight for me. Naturally, there is a long list of things that I wish I had done with my pilots license, a flight across the country, my IFR ticket, my tail wheel endorsement, my high-power/complex endorsement, etcetera ad nauseum. But I got to do some of the really important ones. I took my son flying. I shared my passion for flight with my wife and friends. I might even have inspired one or two folks into aviation, I certainly hope so.

I plan to take some duel once a year (fly with an instructor) in order to keep at least some semblance of being a real life pilot guy. I’ll also see what kind of friends I have when I start begging for airplane rides. I got’s ta feed the monkey on my back… The winged one.

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