Flying for Life

I had just sat down at the kitchen table with my coffee and was contemplating the day ahead. The sun was still struggling to get over the mountains to the east; it was just after dawn. It’s an unusual time for a text as I hear the familiar ding from my phone. It’s a request for an unscheduled mission to Prescott, Arizona—two boxes of blood needed for a transfusion ASAP. It’s two and a half hours away by car without traffic, or 55 minutes by small plane.

I consider the request and what I had planned for later that day. I check with my partner and make sure she doesn’t need me for anything in particular. ForeFlight confirms it’s solid VFR all day. I check the schedule of the planes I’m a partner in for availability—the 182 is open. The Vitalant Blood Services dispatcher answers my call, and I offer my availability. We discuss how quickly I can be ready and an ETA to give to the receiving hospital. I tell them I can be ready to go within about 90 minutes—maybe less if there is no traffic. They confirm with the hospital that the timing works and say it’s a go. The dispatcher thanks me and wishes me a good flight.

I finish my coffee quickly while getting ready, grab my flight bag, and head out the door. It’s 30 minutes to the hangar on this crisp fall morning in Arizona, and there’s not a cloud in the azure blue sky. I envision a smooth flight ahead.

Usually, the missions I fly are scheduled pickups from blood drives around the state—five or six boxes of freshly drawn blood being sent to the lab in Phoenix. However, the unscheduled missions are more urgent; someone needs the blood now. Today, I’m part of a team to help someone we will never know. A generous person donated their blood. It was delivered and processed at the blood bank, and now I will be delivering it via a 182 to the local airport. Another driver will take the boxes from me for the final leg to the hospital. While it needs to go ASAP, I am mindful not to rush or cut corners. I should operate this flight as safely as any other, but without undue delay.

As I drive along the freeway, I mentally prepare for the flight, prioritizing the order of tasks and considering an alternative route if I can’t get a clearance through the Bravo airspace.

Fortunately, traffic is light, and I get to the hangar earlier than anticipated. I quickly assess the aircraft and determine I can leave within the next 30 minutes. I call the dispatcher again and tell them I can depart earlier, which he confirms with the driver. I perform my usual preflight, then pull the 182 out of the hangar. It starts right up, as if it senses the urgency of the day’s flight, and I taxi to the terminal to meet the driver.

The purple-trimmed Vitalant van pulls up, and we transfer the two boxes to the waiting Skylane. Again, it fires right up, and 15 minutes later my wheels leave the runway and I’m headed for PRC. Here in the Phoenix area, it can be quite busy with VFR traffic, yet today it is rather quiet. The controller grants me a transition through the Bravo airspace with no delay.

These missions narrow my focus, the importance of the flight almost influencing me as an observational check pilot might—correcting deviations sooner, flying as precisely as I can. I make clear and concise radio calls to convey I’m not just out poking around. Out the window, the metropolis slips behind me, and the view transitions to high desert chaparral as I head north. The rugged terrain is bisected by the highway I’m following to the destination. I glide along over the road as it winds up the desert mesa, realizing that if it weren’t for general aviation, this blood might still be down there in the traffic I passed a few miles back.

I think about the person who is receiving the lifesaving supply I carry in the boxes behind me. Are they young or old? What struggle are they in right now? I’ll never know the answers.

A frequency change brings my thoughts back to the tasks at hand. The ATIS confirms the expected VFR conditions for my arrival at the mountain town I’m descending into. I pull into the FBO and am greeted by the line staff. They quickly bring over a golf cart to carry the two boxes into the lobby, where the final delivery driver of this relay awaits. Within minutes of shutdown, the boxes are on their way to the hospital only a few miles away.

The organization that facilitated this mission is Flights For Life, an all-volunteer group of pilots who donate their time and aircraft to move blood around Arizona. If you’re like me and are tired of just getting the ubiquitous $100 hamburger as a reason to go fly, perhaps look into volunteer opportunities in your area. You can take kids on their first flight with EAA Young Eagles, help patients get to medical services with Angel Flight, or give a lift to pets needing to get to their forever homes with Pilots N Paws. There are many others. Find one you think you’d enjoy and give it a try. I think you’ll find it a pleasantly rewarding way to fly, give back to your community, and stay current.

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Chris Schaich

Chris Schaich began flying in 1990 while studying Aviation Flight Operations at San Jose State University. He built early flight time instructing and ferrying aircraft, then joined a regional airline in 1997, flying the Saab 340 and later serving as a Line Check Airman on the Avro RJ85. Since 2005, he has flown for a major U.S. airline, currently as a 737 Captain.

A lifelong warbird enthusiast, Chris has flown aircraft such as the B-17, B-25, DC-3, P-40, and P-51 through his work with the Commemorative Air Force and Palm Springs Air Museum. He also raced at the Reno Air Races, competing in the Biplane and Sport classes and serving as a pace pilot through 2023.

With nearly 21,000 hours in over 80 aircraft, Chris credits writers like Ernest Gann and Richard Collins for inspiring his aviation path—and his goal of flying 360 aircraft one day.

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