This is more of a journey than a story, as it spans 4-weeks and involves a number of significant peak memories, as well as a life-changing event.
But first, it starts out with some good old-fashioned general aviation.
If you want to fly commercially from Salt Lake City, UT to Sheridan, WY.... there are no direct flights. Best-case-scenario, you get up at 4am, fly from SLC to Denver, have an hour layover, then continue on to Sheridan. There is one flight a day, and it leaves at the crack-of-dawn. All in all, it takes about 4-5 hours from door to door and isn’t that much fun. The alternative for me is flying a 59’ Cessna 182B, which is cheaper, is actually faster, and Way more fun!
In calm winds, the flight in the 182 would take about 3 hours (still saving 1-2 hours from the commercial option), but on this day we had tailwinds, meaning the wind was pushing me from behind. And not just a little push, but a 50mph push... giving me a ground speed of nearly 200mph! Most of the flight had a very “wintery” landscape as a large storm had covered the entire mountain-west region in a foot of new snow just a few days prior.
Along the way, I had time to get out my pilots operating handbook and review some of the performance charts. Modern planes have fancy gauges that tell you helpful info like your fuel flow (for example), but in my classic bird, I do it the old fashioned way using a paper chart. It generally works just as good and involves looking up your altitude, manifold pressure, and RPM. The chart gives you... from the range you can fly, and your true airspeed, the number that I’m really interested in.... the gallons per hour you are using.
Indeed it was a classic KAVU day with blue skies as far as the eye could see. It was the kind of cross-country flight where I didn’t have much to worry about. The weather was perfect, the plane was running well, and I was set to arrive early at my destination in Wyoming.
Two and a half hours after departing South Valley Regional Airport in SLC, I made a nice soft field landing at the Sheridan airport.
It was unseasonably warm, which was helping the snow melt and for the first time since last fall, I didn’t have to wear a jacket out on the ramp to keep the cold air out.
For the next week, I was back to flying the “Dash 8”. There's little in common between my little 4-seater Cessna 182, and this 30-seat transport-category aircraft.... besides that they both have wings and both on rubber wheels.
Other then that.... everything about them is different. Slowly, I’m warming up to the Dash 8 and her size and capabilities. Honestly, she is an impressive plane and due to the robust design and strong air frame, many are flown all over the world.
It’s worth noting that I’ve never had to fly in a “uniform” before. Sure.... during smoke-jumper season I wear a flight suit, but I’ve never had to actually tuck my shirt in, or wear white for that matter! It felt kind of funny, but it does look professional.
Although, I would much rather be wearing a KAVU flannel!
After the week of work was over, I checked the weather to see how good it looked to fly home in the 182. It didn't look good..... like 'really' not good. There was zero-percent chance of making it back in my own airplane.
The main reason was icing. My 182 would last 5 minutes flying in ice before falling to the ground like a brick. Commercial airlines have technology, like boots that inflate and deflate on the leading edge of the wings to prevent ice from building up, as well as the ability to fly high enough to be above the bad weather. So, I booked a commercial flight home and enjoyed watching the wings get de-ice fluid sprayed on them, appreciating the technology that would allow me to fly home in weather that my personal airplane could not. I would be back to Sheridan in 3 weeks for more training, and knew I would have another chance to fly the 182 home then. Besides, while home.... I had more important things to think about then flying!
Just under two weeks after getting home, my daughter Gemma Rose Amonson was born!!
Everything during the delivery went smoothly, and Momma is doing great. Our son Walter is adjusting to not getting all the attention at home anymore, and has been very gentle and loving with his new sister. A few days after the delivery, I kissed my family good-bye and returned to Sheridan for training. It was a little sad to leave so soon after Gemma was born, but I was thankful she arrived early and I didn’t miss the delivery.
Such is the difficult life of people who work on the road.
With a celebratory cigar in hand at the local lounge, all necessary work-related training was knocked out and it was a time to head home.
I looked at the weather, and while it looked far from perfect, it looked doable enough to give it a try.
One of the perks of flying your own airplane is you don’t have to go through TSA.... and you can fly with fragile things and not worry about them getting broken.
In this case, my fragile baggage included three fresh pies, a pack of thick cut bacon from a local butcher, and five 6-packs from a local brewery. The night prior to departing, I loaded up the 182, gave the airplane a good pre-flight inspection, and shoveled out the front of the hanger from the snow berm the wind had deposited there over the past few weeks.
The next morning I reviewed the weather and was not exactly happy with what I saw. I had a 24-hour window from Friday afternoon, until Saturday afternoon to squeeze between two storms and make it back to UT.
The weather was what we call 'marginal VFR' (Visual Flight Rules). It means the clouds will be low and the visibility crummy. Good decisions needed to be made during the flight, diverting to different airports along the way if necessary, and perhaps even a precautionary landing to wait out a snow storm.
Five minutes after taking off from Sheridan, I hit a wall of clouds that went all the way to the ground and I had to turn back to the airport. As I looked north (the opposite direction I was trying to go), I saw blue skies off in the distance and figured "what the heck, lets go check it out".
Sure enough, I was able to sneak around the north end of the Big Horn mountains and the weather improved once I got on their west side. As often is the case around mountain ranges, they tend to retain clouds and weather much longer than the flat lands around them.
Most of the flight involved diverting around small snow showers every 20-30 minutes. I would think I was going to have to turn around, but as soon as I flew around the snow I saw better weather ahead. This game of never ending 'aeronautical decision making' continued for five hours (compliments of a head wind and having to fly the wrong direction for 80 miles at the beginning of the flight).
I landed and topped off with fuel in Evanston, WY and prepared for the crux of the flight, crossing the Wasatch Mountains. As I looked west, all I could see was a thick soup of clouds which obscured the tops of the mountain and gave me little confidence I would find a way through.
My plan was to follow the interstate at 1000’ above ground level and see how far I could go. In a pinch, an emergency landing on the highway could be made, and if I didn’t like what I saw ahead at any point, I could turn around and spend the night in Evanston. As luck would have it, the conditions improved and made the mountain crossing and actually had some of the prettiest flying of the whole day.
Before I knew it.... I was looking down on the Salt Lake Valley with the soft, end-of-day light illuminating the city.
I happily made a text book landing at South Valley Regional Airport, taxied to a tie-down spot, and put the plane away. I was happy to inspect my cargo and see that the pies were still intact and none of the beers had exploded.
Landing in a plane that smells like a frat party is generally frowned upon by the FAA, especially when the pilot is the only passenger on board;-)
As I was unpacking the plane and waiting for my ride home, I was filled with a feeling of thankfulness for being able to have such a classic, good old fashioned flying adventure.
It’s sort of like the pilots version of the “open road”; a feeling of complete freedom mixed with three dimensional puzzles to be solved in real-time with the reward of getting to your destination at the end of the day. Had I waited for perfect weather, I never would have been able to leave WY, and it would have been 24 hours or more before making it home. I would never encourage another pilot to get what’s called “get-there-itis”, a sickness that has caused it’s fair share of flying accidents.
However, when flying in challenging conditions, you have to treat it like eating an elephant, one bite at a time.
Neil Amonson
FB
IG
Absolute Flight Training
© 2026 KAVU
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
.jpeg?auto=webp)
/1x.jpeg?auto=webp)
/1x.jpeg?auto=webp)
/1x.jpeg?auto=webp)
/1x.jpeg?auto=webp)
/1x.jpeg?auto=webp)
/1x.jpeg?auto=webp)