This year (1995) had been rather strange with it's weather. So much rain deep into April, and the San Gabriel Mountains still had their snow caps. Whenever I drove out to the customer site in Industry I could not help making the decision to fly over these peeks and look at the snow. And there was the opportunity now. It would be just a short detour on the way to Vegas to take just this one look that I had planned to take so long.

Vegas is strange. One time you have no problemo to find a nice room, even with Jacuzzi, for a hundred Dollars, another time there is hardly a room free and if so it's two hundred and up. This time was one of the second kind but should I miss out, maybe the last chance this year, to look at the snow caps close up just to save some filthy lucre? No, and beside this the Best Wife of them All needed these couple of extra thousand.

We got out of Burbank without problem, headed over to Agua Dulce and then kept Palmdale far to our left to get closer to the San Gabriel Mountains South of us. I opted not go there all the way, because the wind had started to blow and we were tossed around a bit. From all I knew about mountain flying, the turbulences would be much stronger over the ridges or close to them.

There is the old story about the prophet and the mountain. I remembered it and told myself that if the prophet can't go to the mountain, the mountain has to come to him. So I, the prophet, made him, the mountain, do this by using the telephoto lens. And again I learned that my books on aviation weather had been right by teaching Unstable Air = Good Visibility.

Las Vegas greeted us with a spectacular view of the Luxor hotel. When still at least twenty miles out, no Vegas to be seen, all hiding in a dust cloud. With one exception - one triangle of the Luxor's pyramid shining through the dust like a welcoming beacon. Eventually we got visual contact with the City of Las Vegas and McCarran International and were cleared for runway 19L. Service at Signature in Vegas is impressive, as are their prices by the way. But coming to Vegas we try to imitate the rich people and so we do not care about the ramp fee and high fuel prices and enjoy the amenities of a van guiding us to a tie-down place, help with the tie-down and a cool ride to the signature terminal building.

The stay in Vegas did not quite serve it's purpose. The best wife of them all won a thousand (....quarters), which did not quite make up for the damage at the hotel counter when we paid; once the author was in grave danger of not making it back to California; but otherwise we had an eventless repose.

The next morning started with a tearful good bye to the huge Jacuzzi in our room, trying to find the car rental to return our car and then another ride in the air-conditioned Signature van.

Preflight, clearance, taxi, ready for take-off.

Trusty 08L and I are a good team again. She looks out for me that we reach our destination and I look out for her that she does not overstress herself over the hot desert. We eventually struggle up to 10,500 where we can relax from the big heat and turbulences on the way up.

After it is clear that the rough ride is pretty much over also the best wife of them all relaxes and I already expect the look with this very specific a bit apologizing smile - "May I?"

Shortly thereafter her head falls a little to the side and she is peacefully asleep. I admire and don't understand that. Admiration for this trust and non-understanding on how you can sleep up here. Nothing has to happen even on a long flight, somehow it never gets dull for me. The imagination gets out and plays with the plane like a dog running free in the woods knowing his human friend close by. Sniffing out some yet unknown corners, always returning to make sure the master is still there.

Up there, surrounded by the dearest, Gigi, 08L, and the imaginations, I put the miles behind me. This time we will not miss the snow capped San Gabriel Mountains. Even before crossing the Dagget VOR I can make out the beacon for Big Bear Lake reaching out of the haze into the blue. Angelus Oaks with nearly 11,000 feet.

Once past the VOR I turn to a heading of 210 and set the infrared sight to this beacon to aid us south. Soon I can make out the topology with the Cahun Pass cutting through the San Gabriel mountain range to be the gate into the Los Angeles Basin. These mountains are magnificent. They dare to reach out of the Los Angeles lowlands into the sky, actually comprising the border between desert and cultured lands.

The LA Basin awaits us with it's typical conditions. Apparently IFR, dissolving into 'three miles in haze' when coming close. But this is still some miles away. Coming closer to the Cahun Pass I turn 08L's nose more to the west leading her into the rocky wilderness. Beyond this high border the apparently impenetrable whiteness of the Los Angles 'weather'.

And finally I am here. I even wake up the best wife of them all. Snow in April in Southern California! Not very much later this snow was gone. It had been one of my last chances to see it from up there. While 08L purred along the snow covered slopes I wondered if there were people still skiing. But I could not see any. Respectfully 08L and I saw to it not to come too close to the rocks.

Eventually we crossed the last ridge and a valley opened into the Los Angles Basin. Here I could see what I had expected based on reports I had received from Flight Watch. There was indeed was some visibility on the bottom of the big kettle called lovingly (?) the Basin.

For the rest of the trip I needed all my neat navigation equipment. At least I played with it so as to justify it's existence. I called up Ontario Approach to ask them for help to find my way home and when they handed us off we were as good as home.

Burbank Approach, Cherokee 8308L, over the Rose Bowl, four thousand five hundred, landing Burbank with Information Yankee.

P.S. Once landed we could not go home right away because the best wife of them all needed a photo for her Hobby Kitchen. She wanted to introduce the Big Blender, very useful for bigger chopping task in a roomy kitchen.

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