On Taylor Chism | HeliOps Magazine

“I’d like to dedicate this piece to my grandfather. A mountain of a man who believed work ethic and honesty were the most valuable currency. To my grandmother, who taught me that being tough is the first step to being brave and that unconditional love and support are what make people do great things. To the rest of my family and friends who have squeezed my shoulder on the bad days and high-fived me on the good ones – I would not be here without all of you.”
– Taylor Chism

To those who know Taylor Chism, a quick look at the way her life has unfolded is not surprising at all; to others, it’s an enviable, intriguing, and sometimes confronting combination of everything outdoorsy, adventurous, and exciting. She possesses the zest of a confident kid who hasn’t yet been taught how to fear, but she’s a frank, steadily spoken young woman with the quiet self-assuredness of one who knows her personal limits.

That comes from experience. “It’s from pushing the envelope, sometimes a little too far. I will admit that when I was younger – I’m 25, so when I was in my late teens – I was constantly trying to find the edge of the envelope… aggressively. Now that I’ve come into higher consequence sports and hobbies, I’m glad I pushed it then because it’s given me a reference for what I am capable of doing but also what could go wrong – and I think that’s a really fine line. I will say that my acceptance of risk is probably higher than the average bear’s!”

Taylor is a helicopter pilot who also owns and flies a beautiful little red and white bush plane. She skydives, rock climbs, dives, and snowboards, fights fires, wanders out into the Alaskan wilderness on solo caribou hunts, and leaps off hovering helicopter skids onto rocky cliff faces to wrestle wild rams for conservation. 

“So there’s this commonality of risk, and people will call me an adrenaline junkie, but it’s not the case. I don’t get a rush out of something being more or less dangerous – it’s not something I go looking for.” 

For Taylor, it is just the ability to experience life. “It’s just human awareness, you know? To witness the mountains from 18,000 feet as you’re jumping out, or fly the heli and see mountain goats running around, or snowboarding with friends – I think it’s a valuable thing.”

Her heli license was a simple evolution of the two careers and passions that Taylor pursued as a youth avoiding college at all costs – wildland firefighting and skiing. “I was staring down the barrel of a second ACL replacement and had to admit that my current occupations as a hotshot and budding ski guide had fast-approaching expiration dates,” she shrugs. “One of the last fires of that season happened to involve a flight in a 205, during which I figured that would be how I’d stay in the industries I enjoyed: I’d learn to fly helis.” 

Taylor earned her wings at Precision Aviation, now known as Pureflight, out of Oregon, flying the Guimbal Cabri. “I found so much enjoyment and passion in all aspects of aviation. I wanted to absorb and breathe in all that I could.” An exceptional instructor makes all the difference, and Taylor gives a nod to her primary, Casey Campbell. “We had a great rapport, and he constantly pushed me to be the best pilot I could be.” Following the completion of her CFII, she also instructed at Pureflight.

Taylor describes her flying career as a ‘rocket sled on rails!’ Fast-paced, enjoyable, and dynamic, the flying jobs she’s fallen into always seem to align with her background. She grew up working in her family’s cherry orchards and made her start in aviation drying cherries in an R44; she loves hunting and working with animals and now provides support through sling loads, surveys, capture work, and predator eradication. 

Sometimes, she comes home covered in sweat and smelling like a campfire after flying a lightning bust all day. “Those days are my favourite – when I’m flying fire.” She relishes the freedom and creativity of decision-making on various dipsites, approach paths, and how she wants to work a fire if other resources aren’t giving direction. “I enjoy what the Huey is capable of, and I feel an intense sense of fulfilment making a difference on those firelines because I personally know how the boots on the ground feel and what they’re looking at.”

This is Taylor’s second season firefighting in the Huey. “The first fire I ever flew was last spring, and I was working with another Huey to contain a fire in south-central Oregon. Later on, I was reminiscing about my old days as a dirt-eating, ground-pounding firefighter and looking over old photos.” In a full-circle moment, she came across a photo of herself calling in a bucket drop eight years before, and the Huey delivering that bucket was the same helicopter she had flown on her first fire as a pilot – that very day. 

Following the fire season, Taylor has about a month off before she moves into capture season as a net gunner and mugger. Again, her background growing up on the ranch involved steer wrestling – bulldogging – and she thought she’d won the occupation lotto when she got to marry her love of flying with good company, all sorts of animals, and a good old-fashioned wrestling match!

“We had one ram netted on a sandy bluff above a substantial 75ft drop this season. I got out of the helicopter and onto the ram and made the mistake of getting my head too close. The net, which was still semi-wrapped around the ram, snagged my helmet. That ram took off like a cat with its tail on fire down towards the drop, unbothered by the fact he was dragging a scrambling and fighting mugger behind him. Just as I thought I was going to go for a free flight off the cliff face, the heli came back around and delivered my good friend in time to catch the ram and I both.”

In winter, Taylor is up before dawn, sipping a coffee as she briefs ranchers for a day of coyote eradication. “We load up and fly low, watching for movement across the sagebrush and pastures as the mountains blush in the distance. Maybe we spot a lone coyote sneaking along a cut bank; maybe we see a group of five leaving a herd of angry heifers who stand defensively between the coyotes and calves. Then, we drop in, gunner out of the door in a harness. I bring the aircraft out of trim, presenting the shot close and low. I watch the coyote’s movements, trying to predict where, when, and if he will cut, all while keeping an eye out for power lines, other obstacles, and my gauges.” It’s an engaging form of flying that delivers meritorious results in the reduction of calf predation and an increase in wild game populations.

Understandably, Taylor has no plans to abandon her well-founded niches, only to develop her skills as a pilot and continue to learn. “The overall philosophy of my life and career is to push yourself – be uncomfortable within reason. Find the line that makes you feel fulfilled. I hope to leave each job proud of the work I’ve done, to push others to question their limiting beliefs, and push myself to be a good pilot, friend, and person.” 

“Don’t get tangled up in the small stuff, and don’t worry too much about the big stuff. Long story long, just make it all count.”

Originally published in HeliOps Magazine Issue #151