The First Leg to Idaho

After abandoning our ambitious plans to go to Alaska this summer due to the COVID-19, Jeff Shapiro and I decided on the next best thing—Idaho. From Colorado, the first leg was to Stevensville Airport in the Bitterroot Valley of Montana to meet Shapiro. After a typically late start, I was wheels-up by mid-morning. The Husky was loaded down with gear and fuel, but still climbed impressively in the near-three-digit heat. A monsoonal pulse of moisture from the southwest was already over-developing into early thunderstorms over the peaks of the Front Range. I cruise climbed north of Rocky Mountain National Park over Cameron Pass flying slalom through the peaks over the pass. The air was dynamic, a 100-mile XC day in the hang glider, thanks to pre-frontal instability and a healthy dose of moisture. I “dolphin flew” climbing in free lift and speeding up when I hit sink, surfing the up-wind side of the Never Summer Mountains until I topped out at 12,500 feet. The Husky will normally climb well into the mid-teens, but loaded down with high ambient outside air temps I couldn’t get much higher. 

The flatlands of Central Wyoming may have well have been Iraq. Thousand feet altitude gains and losses were the norm in moderate to occasional severe turbulence—that’s what I get for flying across Wyoming in the heat of a mid-summer’s day. I finally found some relief in the shadow of the Wind River Range as I had out-flown the building storms behind me. A glance over my shoulder revealed dark cumulonimbus clouds where there were blue skies just an hour earlier. Heading north towards Yellowstone National Park the high desert gave way to lush alpine forests framed by the Teton Mountains in the distance to the west. The air was smooth, but now I was over “tiger country,” where a forced landing would result in days or even weeks of survival if not for my GPS Spot locator. A pilot in a single engine airplane can’t help but listen to the engine just a little more closely when over open water or tiger country…

Tiger Country

The Teton Mountains

Soon tiger country gave way to the forests and lakes the Yellowstone Caldera, along with the occasional road. My route to West Yellowstone Airport took me right over Old Faithful, but unfortunately, the geyser wasn’t spouting at the time. After a fuel and bathroom stop at KWYS, I hopped one mountain pass to a grass strip called Henry’s Lake and couldn’t help but drop down for a touch a go. The runway has a steep hill on one end and the blue-water lake of its namesake on the other. I flew a tight pattern, turning base over the road, while locking eyes with one concerned RV driver in the process. After dragging the mains in the grass, I departed straight-out over the lake.



Henry's Lake Airstrip

Flying the Rivers and Valleys into the Bitterroot



Dinner--Cold Pizza

From there I stayed low, flying the rivers and valleys as the world turned to a lush green below. A crew meal of cold pizza and sparkling soda made a fine dinner as I put a wingtip into Idaho south of the Bitterroot Mountains. As I crested the pass into the bottom of the valley, the sun skimmed the peaks of the Bitterroots to the west. I made Stevensville (32S) just before dark. It was just under eight hours in the saddle, my longest day yet in the Husky. Shapiro met me as I stumbled out of the Husky and we excitedly anticipated the next day’s adventure—the backcountry of Idaho.


Landed in Stevenville