McCall Airport (MYL)

From Cascade, we departed North towards the lake, which was once again another good lesson in density altitude. We were off the ground in about 1,100 feet, but we weren’t gaining altitude like I’m used to. We followed the shoreline of Cascade reservoir, with the tamarack resort to our left and the million-dollar houses on our right. It was a pleasant afternoon flight full of birds, fly fishermen and jet skis, and it gave us a much different perspective of the Cascade Valley.

“Jon, that looks like a runway,” I said. (Remember, Jon has never been in a small plane before). “Ron, it is a runway. It has a windsock.” Ahhh. We found the grass-strip of Donnelly (U84), and I sat there thinking to myself, “Wow, those trees are tall—and you land in between two rows of them.” Maybe next time.

After circling my mother-in-law’s house, located just to the south of Mc Call, I checked the Mc Call AWOS (Automated Weather Observation Station). To my horror, we had a 70 degree crosswind at 10 kts gusting to 20 kts. I crossed mid-field, thankful that I’d gone up a couple of times in Boise during nasty, gusty crosswinds. This was different, though. The winds were stronger, we were at a high altitude (Mc Call is 5,000 feet above sea level), and the runway was both narrower and shorter than the huge runways found at BOI. I’m thinking, “I’ll shoot it twice, and if I can’t get it down, we’ll just fly back to Boise—no big deal.”

“Jon, sorry man, you can’t talk. I’ve got to pay attention.” Jon quickly stopped talking and continued to take pictures. “Jon, sorry, no more pictures.” I didn’t want any distractions; I figured I needed to fly a perfect pattern, have perfect power settings, and use a super-controlled approach as I turned base to final. “McCall area traffic, 870 short final 34 McCall.” I snapped as one hand gripped the controls, four fingers of the other hand held the throttle, and my thumb rested on the carb heat just in case I needed a full power go- around. A little bump to the right, a little more rudder pull-back, then back some more, and I landed smooth and on the centerline. “I need a beer!” I thought as the plane slowed to a roll, knowing I’d have to settle for just a burger.

Tip: A short 15-minute walk towards downtown, and you’re at Paradise Burger, home of the best damn Hawaiian burger I’ve ever had. We’re talking lean meat, pineapple, ham and super-sticky teriyaki sauce on a bun made from the local bakery (which also has great sandwiches but is closed on Sundays).