The Many Faces of Sedona

 by

Gerry Niskern

        “We’re going to circle around and come in from the south.” Our pilot’s voice crackled through my earphones. “OK, guys, get ready to land on the USS Sedona. That’s what we call our landing strip. It’s just slightly longer than an aircraft carrier.” The red Waco plane carrying us landed smoothly.

        Earlier that morning, my husband and I checked in at the Bi- plane hanger located at the Sedona airport.  We had been promising ourselves we would take a ride in the Waco open cockpit plane for the past few years.   We had noticed the plane with its sturdy engine chugging away overhead many times on our trips to Oak Creek Canyon and the Red Rock country.  

        We stood watching a middle aged man checking the red double- winged plane. Our apprehension vanished when we realized he was leaving no detail untouched. Beckoning us forward, he instructed Ken how to step on the wing here, grab the handhold there, step into the plane backwards, kneel on the seat and pivot around and sit down. I was next. Same instructions. Now I understood why the lady on the phone asked for our total combined weight. We were in for a very chummy fit.

        After helping with our safety harness, helmets and earphones, the efficient man walked away …and the young blond kid in tan shorts and red sweat shirt who we had seen drinking coffee in the hanger, strolled out and climbed into the pilots seat behind us! “Welcome aboard, guys. I’m Eric, your pilot. We’re about ready to go,” his voice came through the earphones. “I’m double checking everything. Then we’ll be on our way.”

        As we taxied out onto the runway we heard, “Whiskey Charlie, Whiskey Charlie, taxing from center to 03”…his voice crackled again, “Sedona, your transmissions are very weak, absolutely unreadable….we looked at each other wondering how to cancel the flight! Too late…a second  later, “ OK, guys, we’re good for go…Sedona, Whisky Charlie’s rolling.”

        Our plane gained speed and as it cleared the runway we were suddenly looking straight down at the houses of West Sedona. I found myself in a wonderful, new world. An indescribable sense of freedom filled my soul. I’ve flown on airliners for years, but THIS WAS FLYING.

        “We’ll be chugging along at about 5,800 feet,” Eric, our pilot informed us. “If it’s too bumpy, we’ll alter a little. I’ll be pointing out some local landmarks.”

        The cerulean blue sky served as a canvas for our changing landscape. The solid red Waco rode the bucking wind and tamed gust after gust. We dipped into hidden valleys, ventured up beside shrill orange cliffs where steep canyons walls slashed wide paths into their sides.

        I had to remind myself to breathe. We weren’t breaking the sound barrier; we were breaking the beauty barrier. We skimmed by fractured remnants of endless strata. Their horizontal patterns curved and swirled to form timeless sculptures. Cascades of rock fragments had bounced and tumbled to their base.

        Our pilot pointed out Lee’s mountain, Broken Arrow, Munds Mountain, Mount Wilson and Bell Rock, the formation that attracts thousands each year, who come to get “the feeling”.

        Eric indicated the location of Cathedral rock. Right below was our favorite spot, Red Rock Crossing. We camped there for years with our children; sometimes we were the only inhabitants at the crossing. Memories of romantic moonlight swims, with toddlers safely sleeping in our tent, crossed my mind. 

        Too soon, it was time to head back. The Waco wound it’s way up north and then down over Snebly Hill road. Its seventeen-mile length was a garland against the mountain where stands of green pines tucked into violet canyons were decorated with red oak and sumac.

        “The wind’s pushing us around a little, but we are going to give it a shot here folks,” our pilot called. Then…”Whisky Charlie, 403 for landing, Sedona We’re coming in.”

        There were just two questions to be answered. I asked, “When can we go again?” and back home, one of our concerned offspring inquired, “So what’s next, bungy jumping?”