Thu, 12 Sep 2024
The new Forest Service pilot looked again at the grass airstrip, 2,000 feet below. Tucked in tight between the river and two parallel ridges, it looked right-sized for the Piper Cub parked there. For 20,000 pounds of a lumbering DC3, however, the mountain airport on his left looked anything but useable.
He glanced right, checking the instructor for any clue —a raised eyebrow, a forward lean—anything that said he’d take over now. The veteran pilot fiddled with his watchband. The student swallowed, understanding the message.
