I HAVE AN EVER-CHANGING BUCKET LIST OF THINGS to do in aviation. One of the most memorable I've checked off was my first flight into a private field. My parents had bought some land in a development located in the Sierra Nevada, known as Swansboro Country. It has a small 3,100-foot runway at just under 2,600 feet in elevation nestled in the foothills and near a chain of fishing ponds. Having just crested 200 hours while working on my instrument rating, I was excited to fly my flying club's Cessna 182 to take my family on adventures. So, when Swansboro's volunteer fire department was holding a midsummer fundraising picnic, I decided to fly my parents there for the event. While the club's rules didn't require a mountain checkout for the flight, I read up on everything I could regarding operating in mountainous terrain. On the day of the flight, that mid-July morning, I felt prepared: I got my weather briefing, did weight and balance calculations, ran performance numbers, and verified everything I could.
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