CHAPTER 1
YOU SEE THE AIRPORTDON'T YOU CAPTAIN?
Puerto Vallarta provided lots offun and entertaining momentswhile there, and some times whileleaving. Our favorite trip was scheduledto depart Puerto Vallarta at 0900. Thefirst stop on our way back to Phoenixwas Mazatlan, just 35 minutes up thebeautiful coast in our fast bright yellowDC-9 jet. Yes "Bright Yellow". The ownerwas of course "Howard Hughes" and thePresident was "Russell Stevenson". Moreon Hughes Airwest later.
The good thing about flying in Mexico,then was, no airspeed restrictions atany altitude, other than around theairports. We enjoyed zooming up the coastat 3000'msl. The air was so smooth thatmorning and the visibility was unlimited.Our airspeed indicator showed 330 kts.The coastline just rushed by.
Captain Merle and I had flown thistrip many times and were very familiarwith this route, the approach and theairport. Mazatlan airport had a singleEast West runway. Arriving from the Southwe normally made a right turn, South ofthe airport for a left downwind approachto the West runway.
Capt. Merle and I were not up latethe night before and was well rested.The weather was clear with no trafficen-route. This was truly, "A Lovely DayFor An Airplane Ride". Capt. Merle wasflying this first leg of our return tripto Phoenix. He had such a great touchwith the controls of our airplane. Hisattitude was relaxed and confident. Itwas a pleasure for the entire crew to beflying with him.
So, there we were, zooming up the coastat 0925. Mazatlan airport was coming intoview 25 miles ahead. I give the tower acall. They reported no other traffic inthe area and cleared us to land to theWest as expected.
It was a quiet Mexico morning. Therewas no conversation in the cockpit or onthe radio. The DC-9 was quite, I was quietand Capt. Merle was quiet. All was good.
I glanced over at my Captain, a verycapable 30,000+ hour pilot. An Ex-NavalAviator who retired as a full commanderfrom the Naval Reserve. He was not usingthe autopilot to fly this leg. Both ofthose experienced hands are on the yokeand his eagle eyes are looking straightahead at the airport. A minute or sopasses before I glance over again. Iam anticipating his reduction in cruisepower and calling for me to do the"Decent Check List".
No command yet. I guess he is going toshow me something new on this approach.
I just wait in anticipation.
We are crossing the water at 7 milesper minute. Airport now just under 15miles away.
His eyes are still looking straightahead, his hands on the yoke, the coursestill very steady and the altitude righton. But, we are really closing on thatairport fast.
He had not said a word for the last 15minutes and I didn't want to talk, justto talk, so I just waited.
Another minute flew by. Now we weregetting very close, my guess under 8miles, and we were still at cruise power.
The DC-9 is so aerodynamically cleanit takes time and distance to slow downand turn, even with the speed brakes.
I could wait no longer. I would haveto hope for another time for the lesson Iwas being taught. I said, "Merle, you seethe airport don't you?"
He jerked up from his stare to say,"Airport". He now saw Mazatlan Airport.It was just a couple of miles away andsaid, "Holy @#$*".
With that, he pulled back on thethrottles to idle, extended the speedbrakes and made a steep right turn as weapproached the center of the airport. Aswe slid over top of the airport to enterfrom the North side, we heard this loudlaughing coming from the galley which waslocated just behind the cockpit.
I quickly called the tower and advisedthat we would be making a right downwindapproach. They said, "Royer, clearedto land". I know I heard that MexicanController laughing at the "GringoPeeloootos".
After we smoothly landed and weretaxiing to the terminal gate, both girlscame into the cockpit still laughing.They had been standing in the galleywhen Capt. Merle started the simultaneousDecent, Approach and Landing phase of theflight. Vangie and Ruth both were drivento their knees by the g's of the turn andrapid deceleration of the jet.
The great flight attendants they were,really showed when both passed it offto the passengers as a routine Mexicanapproach.
I thanked Capt. Merle for showing methat approach. It was the first and onlytime I had seen that approach done on ourairline. He did ask me not to demo it toanyone, including him.
This is the first time I have mentionedit since then.
Merle and I along with 4 or 5 otherpilots belonged to a golf club in Phoenixcalled "Indian Bend". He was a goodgolfer and I got to see him hole outhis second shot on a par 4 hole from 230Yards. I still remember that from over 45years ago.
Just how did I get here? Well let metell you my story.
CHAPTER 2
PILOT TRAINING, "WHERE ITSTARTS"
I am convinced that pilots, by theirvery nature or by their early upbringing, are a different breed.I am not sure what that breed is exactly,but I think the ones I expound on here,INCLUDING MYSELF, will give you thepicture.
Certainly, many of the rare birds Iam writing about today grew up the sameway, with great curiosity. I was alwayslooking to do things that were a moreexciting than those that were availableto me. The search for that excitement wasalways present. I really didn't want tohurt myself or anyone else. I just wantedto explore fun and exciting things.
The first age I remember beinginterested in flying was when I was 6 or7 years old. We lived in a two story homewith a big screened porch in the backin Glendale, Ohio. The porch roof wasslopped just slightly with trees growingby it. What fun it was, running up thestairs, taking out the hall window screenat the top of the stairs and climbingout on the porch roof. The top of theroof led to early flying opportunities.It had to have been 15 feet from roof totera-firma.
A large tree was close to the porchroof and mature enough to have bigbranches. That beautiful tree providedopportunities for me to sail. The onlyproblem I had was that the tree was notright up against the porch. The nearestbranch was about 5 or 6 feet away. Thefirst flying I did was diving out tocatch onto the tree's branches and let myweight gently take me down close enoughto the ground where I could drop at areasonable rate to the soft grass below.It was really a kick. The fear abouthurting myself was just not there.
My mother, bless her heart, was soafraid I would really get hurt. I wasthen, as through my life, not in completedisregard for my safety. The fun andexcitement was worth the measured risk.Even had I missed the limb, it would nothave hurt too much, maybe just scuffedmyself up a little.
I would have gotten away with thatcaper a little longer than I did, but thebranch was so far from the porch I couldnot get back on the roof from the tree.Jumping again meant I had to go back intothe house, up the stairs and out thescreened window onto the porch roof. Igot caught after too many great jumps onone day! I should have known they wouldfigure out that I was just going up thestairs, but never coming back down.
I expanded from that tree to divinginto hay stacks at my grandmother's farmin Kentucky. What fun it was to swan divefrom the rafters and land on your chest inthe hay. The rest of the kids that did jumpjust landed on their rears. Actual divingwas so much more fun than just jumping. Ihad to really be careful diving. I almosthurt my back...
