Crista V. Worthy lives in Hidden Springs, Idaho and is Editor of “The Flyline,” the monthly publication of the Idaho Aviation Association, as well as the Washington Seaplane Pilots Association newsletter. A freelance writer and editor with land and seaplane ratings, she has authored over 1,000 magazine articles, edited several books, and is the author of “Images of Aviation: Idaho Aviation” with 277 photos. The book is available on Amazon or from cristaworthy@hotmail.com.
WORTH THE READ: CRISTA WORTHY GUEST EDITORIAL
Our many RAF supporters have such vast and varied experience, and we’re capturing some of their words of wisdom to share with you. This guest editorial is by Crista Worthy, a pilot, freelance writer, and editor.
Our Aviation Inheritance :
You, and other pilots who support organizations like the Recreational Aviation Foundation (RAF), Idaho Aviation Association (IAA), and Montana Pilots Association (MPA) know these organizations are dedicated to preserving recreational airstrips across the U.S. and in their respective states. But who first built them, and why? And why are they still here? Follow my journey of discovery, summarized below, and your understanding and appreciation of these places will grow.
Based in Santa Monica, Calif., we’d flown our Robertson-STOL-equipped C-210 to 44 states, but never Idaho or the backcountry until August 2001 when I discovered Galen Hanselman’s book, Fly Idaho! On our first trip, we camped at Wilson Bar and swam in the Salmon River. At Johnson Creek, I watched huge Chinook salmon spawn in the shallows. I wept; those fish had overcome giant dams and fought their way 900 miles inland and a mile above sea level, for this, their final act of survival, to perpetuate their line. And at Fish Lake, we spent the day watching cow moose forage in the lake, calves at their sides. These were among the happiest days of my life.
I joined the above organizations, made more trips to Idaho, and, after seeing a spectacular photo of RAF supporter Michael Todd’s silver Skywagon in the Missouri Breaks during a lightning storm, wrote letters in support of the Missouri Breaks airstrips. By the time we moved to Idaho in 2011 I was Managing Editor of Pilot Getaways magazine. I began producing the IAA’s monthly Flyline and became deeply involved with the recreational aviation community.And then Arcadia Publishing asked me to write a book about Idaho’s aviation history.
Wow! In the process of gathering historic photos and stories for my book Images of Aviation: Idaho Aviation , I “met” an amazing array of courageous, hard-working, innovative, and often hilarious characters: the men and women who used aviation as a tool to make their living in the wilderness. You see, we use these airstrips for recreation. But they were built for work.
In 1910, a terrible drought struck the West. Late that summer over 1,000 fires converged into the “Big Burn,” which scorched 3.25 million acres in just 36 hours, destroying towns, wasting 8 billion board feet of timber, and killing some 85 people. The USFS turned to aviation for help. In 1922, WWI veteran Nick Mamer, an Air National Guard pilot out of Spokane, began flying patrols to report forest fires. 100 years ago this year, he landed at Stonebraker Ranch in Idaho’s Chamberlain Basin to make a deal with William Stonebraker, a hunting outfitter. Mamer flew hunters into the ranch for Stonebraker, and commercial backcountry aviation began.
But it didn’t stop there. Mines like the Stibnite in Idaho had to shut down every winter, but once pilots like Mamer and A.A. Bennett figured out how to put skis on airplanes, supplies and people could be ferried in and out year-round. Airstrips were built and new planes like the Zenith, in which Bennett carried everything from mining equipment to a piano and even a cow, were designed.
The USFS built some 5,000 fire lookouts in the 1930s, but they also built airstrips so pilots could fly firefighters into the forest. Mamer taught Bob Johnson and Penn Stohr to fly, and soon Johnson Flying Service out of Missoula had a fleet of sturdy aircraft and skilled pilots who flew in lumber, mail, and literally the kitchen sink so homesteaders could build ranches for themselves and visitors. Those primitive airstrips were lifelines. Bill Gowen made the first-ever landing at Cabin Creek in 1931 to rescue a critically-injured man. An old miner, hiding in the trees, watched the Travel Air 6000 take off from the hastily-cleared field and ran to the backcountry phone, exclaiming, “Slim! It’s all over for that plane! It’s gonna crash! The wings weren’t flapping!” He’d never seen an airplane.
In 1935, the Zimmerly brothers flew 60,000 pounds of freight, trained 20 students, and carried 3,600 passengers. In the 1950s, Jim Larkin rescued 4 prize horses from Morgan Ranch in the winter. Bob Woods regularly flew horses and ponies into Pistol Creek for the little girls who summered there.
This is just a tiny peek into the legacy you have inherited, and that the 1980 Central Idaho Wilderness Act, and subsequently the RAF, IAA, and MPA have preserved. Enjoy!
Missouri River Breaks Storm
Moose, Fish Lake Campsite
Moose Creek Ranger Station, 1938
Zimmerly Brothers with Passengers, 1935
Nick Mamer, Spokane Air National Guard Airplane with William Stonebraker, Stonebraker Ranch, 1925
Photos courtesty of Mike Todd, Crista Worthy, and University of Idaho Library.
Submitted July 31, 2025
Posted in Guest Editorial, News
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RAF New Hampshire Liaison John Meade coordinated a work party over the June 13-14 weekend at Hawthorne-Feather Airpark, 8B1. The paved 3,260-ft runway lies in a forested valley three miles south of Hillsborough, New Hampshire. Additionally, there is a 2,000 foot adjoining turf landing area to the East of the paved runway. The airpark is privately owned, but is open to the public, and camping is allowed. A group of 11 volunteers showed up to help, including RAF Director Bill Brine. The group helped open up five campsites on the southern end of the airfield, installed a commemorative flagpole, and weed-whacked along drainage ditches and a walking trail. “With volunteers from six different states and great weather, this was a special day, with plenty accomplished,” Meade said. Submitted June 23, 2026
Our many RAF supporters have such vast and varied experience, and we’re capturing some of their words of wisdom to share with you. This guest editorial is by Neil Mortine, a marketing and relations executive, RAF Supporter, and husband of RAF Ohio Liaison Christine Mortine.
Taylor Flat Airstrip, just a stone’s throw from the wild and scenic Green River as it carves through spectacular Utah canyons, is officially reopened. Thanks to a cooperative effort between the RAF and Utah Back Country Pilots (UBCP), Taylor Flat Airstrip, TF9, is one more recreational destination pilots can once again enjoy as the RAF works on Expanding The Map ! In 2023, dialog was initiated with the BLM to reopen the airstrip. Daggett County got involved, and RAF Utah Liaison Wendy Lessig navigated the required NEPA process. Lessig was instrumental in preparing a right of way (ROW) lease agreement application, coordinating between Daggett County, the BLM, and other stakeholders, and gathering information to assist the BLM throughout the required Environmental Assessment. “Thanks to Wendy taking action as the RAF Liaison, and her professional persistence following through the lengthy public review process, Taylor Flat Airstrip will reopen as another unique backcountry destination," RAF President Bill McGlynn said. The RAF and UBCP teamed up May 9 to revitalize the airstrip, which had lain dormant for thirty years. “The work party was a resounding success,” Lessig reports. ”We are grateful for the twenty-five volunteers who hand-picked rocks from the airstrip, and used them to mark the runway corners and threshold. “
Starting this month, we’re sharing messages from our RAF Safety, Education and Etiquette “SEE” committee. We hope you like the way we present these stories, and most importantly, we hope you’re one of those folks willing to sit around the campfire and help your friends become better at this thing we call backcountry aviation. We all see things that might not end well. We don’t intend to call anyone out for what might already be a bad day in someone’s flying life. In the interest of safety, we’re inviting you to be part of the culture starting with, “see something, say something.” The hard part might be how to politely deliver that message, and even more important, how to react if we are on the receiving end of someone’s comment. It takes maturity to accept input, especially at one of those moments when maybe we realize things could have just gotten much worse for us. I know I’ve been in “that place” when some thoughtful input about my flying or behavior has been offered. Part of flying is to always strive to be better; and when we aren’t at our best, try to own our shortcomings, learn from them, and move forward. I think about this often. I worry that if we don’t work at getting this part right, at best we risk losing access due to bad practices or behavior; and at worst we risk people getting hurt or worse. It’s that last piece that keeps me up at night. Of all the joys that doing this work brings us at the RAF, the risk of people getting hurt is what I think about the most. Safety, education, and etiquette are tied. Getting these right means the best outcome. So, get out there this summer. Get some grass stains on your wheels, get some bugs on your windscreen, get better at your craft of flying the airplane, meet some new people, and for sure start to create those special friendships that begin around a campfire under a starlit night. - John McKenna, RAF Chairman Submitted June 16, 2026
By RAF Director Bill Brine and the RAF's Safety, Education, and Etiquette Committee. Too many backcountry accidents happen on the third approach. After two unsuccessful attempts at landing, the pilot is tired, anxious, behind the airplane, and making decisions with a brain that has been running down since the first go-around. The airstrip hasn’t gotten easier. Third time’s NOT a charm. What’s driving this is cultural. Baseball is “three strikes, you’re out.” Could this thinking have joined us in the cockpit? We aren’t playing baseball out here. The backcountry does not give you that third strike. It gives you consequences. Our RAF Code of Conduct calls on each of us to establish personal minimums based on sound aeronautical decision-making — before we need them. Decide your limits at the kitchen table. Write it down. Brief your passengers. Commit to it before you start the engine. That’s when the rule does its job and leads to that hoped-for experience you set out on. Here is one worth considering: two attempts, fly away, head somewhere else . Not because your mission failed, but because you made a sound decision. Flying away is not defeat. Head to your alternate. Land, shut down, and let everyone decompress. Unload gear, leave passengers, go back solo, or call it a day. Those are good outcomes. Submitted June 15, 2026 Photo Credit: Scott Newpower
