I’m not a fan of flying in small aircraft around steep peaks. I dislike the idea that during sudden changes in weather the pilot may loose his ability to judge distance, or that mechanical failure in a helicopter doesn’t offer reassuring hope of gliding toward an emergency landing.
A visit to Kauai offers compelling incentive to overcome such distrust. No where is the aerial view quite so spectacular and in general there is no better method for witnessing the stunning views than in one of the highly maneuverable high-flying wasps that buzz over Kauai‘s skies like so many seabirds. Yet, the very element that forged Kauai’s deeply gorged cliffs and canyons - the 500 inches of annual rainfall - can likely cause your flight to be washed out and possibly dangerous.
There were a number of "incidents" in recent years when helicopter companies headed out in inclement weather or competed with one another as to which could fly the closest to natural features. Guidelines were put into place and limitations now state that copters must stay clear of mountains by at least 500 feet. As for when to cancel a flight, that remains discretionary.
If we we had paid in advance for a flight, we would fly come rain or come shine. So, I stalled on the idea during those first few rainy and questionable days in Kauai and decided I’d take the tour the day of our departure - providing the weather was conducive and we could grab a flight without committing any cash in advance. We’d be at the airport then, anyway, and wouldn’t loose any island time.
What seemed like plenty of time was cut short when we learned that we needed to check in 40 minutes prior to scheduled flight time. It didn’t seem reasonable as we mainly spent the time getting to know our "flight mates" in the Helicopter office and watching the Chicago-Greenbay game on TV. Maybe this approach helps de-jangle nerves or something.
After a weigh-in to determine who will sit where in the copter and safety briefing that basically said don‘t walk into the rear rotor, we were herded to the landing pad and boarded the craft one by one. It was a tight fit! Luckily I had the rear window or I might have been a bit claustrophobic. Before I had time to think about it, we were lifting off, floating over the broad open valley of Kauai on our flight over the spectacular Waimea Canyon, Na Pali coast cliffs and the North Shore.
Waiting had been wise. We were gifted that day with a perfectly dazzling, rare morning. Even the top of the volcano, almost always shrouded by clouds and rain, gleamed. The canyon, a rainbow of colors, revealed nature’s masterstrokes, and waterfalls materialized from every crevice, pumping from the heavy rains earlier. We gasped, we sighed, and when the music in our earphones played a coordinated crescendo as we flew over the top of Mt. Wai`ale`ale, we silently wept.