Whirlybirds | The Friendly Skies

Well,  Jackie and I went flying again.  And, no, it was not in a commercial airliner.  I said to her afterwards, “Do you realize we’ve flown together three times but never in commercial airliner?”  The Good Lord willing, we will finally experience The Friendly Skies together this summer on a trip to New England and Canada. 

In 2013, we flew together for the first time in a 1941 Waco biplane.  We sat side by side in the open cockpit.  Then, a year later, we went up with our friend Jerry in his 1963 Mooney.  Jackie got to sit shotgun, I was relegated to the back seat.  I say back seat, but it was more like the luggage compartment in a Karmann Ghia.  

This time we went up in a helicopter.  A Robinson R-44 Clipper II, manufactured in Torrance, California, in the good old USA.  Again, Jackie rode shotgun, I in the back seat.  I complain, but I really don’t mind.  As long as I can see out the window, I’m happy.  We went up in February in when we visited the USS Yorktown at Patriots Point in Charleston.  We arrived early before boarding the ship, three hours early to be exact.  We saw the sign for Helicopter Rides when we pulled into the parking lot, then saw the chopper sitting on the grass pad.  I did my Eeyore imitation, droning, “They’re probably not flying today.”  Then I went into the gift shop and spent $60.  When I came out of the shop with my Yorktown cap and various other USN souvenirs, Jackie told me, “I talked to the pilot, they’re flying today.”  We walked down to the pad, and the pilot was a very nice young man who told us about the helicopter itself, the length of the rides and the rates.  “You want to go up?” I asked Jackie.  “Sure,” she said, so we walked back up to the gift shop to purchase our tickets.  As we walked back to the pad, adrenaline took over and I began to walk faster and faster.  I wasn’t quite running, but was close.  I’m sure I looked like one of those Olympic Race Walkers powering my way to the finish line, which in this case, was the helipad.  “Slow down, Jimmy, he’s not going to take off without us,” said Jackie.  “I know, but I don’t want anybody to jump ahead of us.”  I was convinced some interloper would push their way to the front of the line, even though there was no one within five hundred yards of us.

We went through the mandatory safety orientation with Young Pilot Rodney (his real name escapes me), then boarded the Clipper II.  As I said, Jackie rode shotgun, but she was in the left front seat.  Young Pilot Rodney flew the bird from the right seat.  I started to ask him if he was sure the chopper wasn’t built in England, but he didn’t seem to have much of a sense of humor.  We sat on the pad and waited for the rotors to get up to speed, then gently lifted off and began our trip around Charleston Harbor.  If you have never ridden in a helicopter, I would highly recommend you do so if ever the opportunity presents itself.  It is, as Young Pilot Rodney put it, “like riding a magic carpet.”  You are literally floating high above the landscape.  The power plant is behind you, the rotors above you and, even though we were wearing earphones, the ride was surprisingly quiet.  

We went out over the Crab Banks and Hog Island.  The Crab Banks are also a seabird sanctuary, and there were hundreds of gulls on the banks.  I didn’t see any hogs on Hog Island, at least not from the air, and I refrained from asking how it got its name.  We flew over Fort Moultrie and the mansions on Sullivan Island, then banked right and headed out across the bay to Fort Sumter.  We visited Fort Sumter the following day, so Young Pilot Rodney gave us a brief history lesson.  At the time of the Confederate attack on the fort, it was four stories high.  He also told us that the initial shots fired on the fort were fired from Fort Johnson, which is on a point about a half mile east from Fort Sumter.  I had always wondered about the cannons used to fire upon the fort and how they could have the firepower to shoot clear across the bay from Charleston and hit their target.  So that answered that question, and we continued on our excursion.  We then turned right and headed over the city, the pink and yellow houses of Old Charleston, Folly Island and the remains of Castle Pinckney.  We then circled around the Ravenel Bridge over the harbor, and Young Pilot Rodney pointed out the remains of a scuttled Confederate ship that was built out of concrete.  Yes, concrete, and apparently it actually did float.  From the ground it just looks like an old concrete barge or dock, but from the air you can clearly see it is the remains of the hull of a ship.  

We then landed, shook Young Pilot Rodney’s hand and thanked him for the ride.  Jackie had never been up in a helicopter before.  I had been up twice, both times in an early Sixties model Bell 47G.  These were the models with the glass bubble cockpit, the true Whirlybirds.  Riding in one of those is REALLY like riding on a magic carpet.  You are sitting two or three abreast in a glass bubble, and can see everything in front, beside and below you.  The first time I rode in one was when I was seven years old, with my father at the old Southeastern Fair.  The main thing I remember about that flight was flying over the old Funtown Amusement Park and seeing the Spinning Teacups ride below us.  I got a card that certified I was a Junior Whirlybird Pilot, and it stayed on the bulletin board in the kitchen of our house until we moved.  Thirty or so years later, in Panama City Beach, my brother in law and I rode the bicycles down to the Daiquiri Shack.  There just happened to be a helipad next door where you could rent rides on a 1963 Bell 47G.  After several daiquiris, we ponied up our fares and climbed aboard for a flight over the beach, banking left at Gulf Highlands Condos where we were staying.  We looked down and saw our wives and kids walking across the parking lot, headed to the beach with towels and coolers.  When we caught up with them later they told us they saw us fly over.  As thrilling as it is seeing things from the air, it’s really cool to see your family.  

The trip around Charleston was a wonderful surprise, and again I reminded myself about how lucky I am that Jackie has no qualms about climbing into a flying machine with me and taking off.  Next on my bucket list is to fly in a Huey.  Riding shotgun, mind you, not being airlifted.  Jackie wants to try skydiving next.  She may have to do that one on her own.  I can’t see bailing out of a perfectly good airplane.  Especially one that is… Still Cruisin’!  J.