Talk about snow - - - !
I was out at West Texas airport the other day and overheard a couple of guys talking about the recent snow storm in El Paso. Though snow storms are rare in this part of the country, it is a run-of-the-mill thing in the northern states. Which brings to mind something that happened 20-25 years ago, back when I had more daring, and less common-sense. Although, I can't take all the blame for this incident, greed and ego did overcame my better instincts.
At the time I had just lost my job with a lumber camp in Montana, and having a payment due on my new Cub I was out beating the bush for work. It was late November and we'd already had a couple of snows the week before, but at the moment the ground was almost bare, and the sky was blue. Working my way south I stopped at Butte to check in with a friend. I learned from him that a government conservationist was looking for a pilot to ferry equipment into Yellowstone Park. The job entailed flying a D-18 on skiis, and was expected to last a couple of weeks. I located the guy and reluctantly took the job.
There were two reasons I didn't really want the job, first because we'd be operating in cold-cold high country (snow up the kazoo), and secondly because I would be on salary instead of a flat rate. But, because I was broke and I didn't want to lose my investment in the Cub I agreed to fly the man and his stuff for a couple of weeks, planning to head for warmer climates later. I inspected the Beachcraft which the G-man had leased from a local man, and found it would probably serve our needs, even though the engines were fairly high time. Also, the radios would have made dandy boat anchors since only one would work sporadically. The government man was still tying up loose ends in town but told me to be ready to leave in a couple of hours, so I started sorting and packing equipment into the plane.
The packing and storing took me the better part of two hours and when my new boss said 'Let's go!' I was ready. Except for one thing! When I checked the weather I learned that our destination was expected to become severe blowing snow at any moment. I told the G-man about the weather, expecting him to display reasonable sense (after all he did work for the government, right?), but he was anxious to get on with his work and insisted we go. After he threatened to replace me with 'Someone with guts...' I relented and off we went.
Sure as heck! After about an hour of flying we arrived over the area we were to land and found visibility was down to inches because of a raging snow-storm. I circled a couple of times and told him we were heading back to Butte. But, about that time one of those quirks of nature occurred and a break in the storm showed smoke coming from the chimney of the cabin we were to stay at. Naturally, the idiot boss told the stupid pilot to land. So the stupid pilot landed.
Well. . . Maybe landed isn't the right word here. Struck the ground mightily is a better description. After coming to a rather messy stop the idiot boss and the stupid pilot got out to survey the damage, and to check for broken bones. I was giving serious thoughts of seeing to it that the boss at least had some aches and bruises, but decided that poking him a time or two wasn't the thing to do, just then. It was obvious that only God would ever make the Beachcraft fly again. However; as luck would have it , the plane had landed in deep snow, skidded along several hundred feet and came to rest over the top of a geyser. It wasn't Old Faithful but one of those sputtering-steamy affairs. It's just as well, because of the storm, we couldn't hike to the warmth of the cabin, but instead relied on natural steam heat for a few hours.
The storm quit after a three or four hours, but it was another three before we made it to the cabin.
Needless to say, I spent the rest of the winter there, cooped up with this idiot. The only thing that kept
me from killing him was the fact that I was on salary, having to work hard, gathering firewood, and
hunting to stay alive. Besides! I was on overtime pay. At the end of a three months of this, and being
rescued by forest rangers, I had enough money to pay off what I owed on the Cub, and a few bucks to
spare.