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Planning
a Routine Flight
Tuesday
March 29, 2005
Last Wednesday I flew the Mooney from
Charleston up to West Virginia. I had some chores at home to
accomplish before flying on up to the Northeast to visit my
Connecticut daughter for Easter.
The trip up from
Charleston was through brilliant blue skies and smooth air. As usual
Dude snoozed in the back seat, only stirring to swap ends, glancing
out the window as he did, as if to confirm that we were on course.
As
we arrived over the mountains of southern West Virginia, a cloud
layer slid under us to hide the rugged landscape. Nearing Buckhannon
I tuned in the ASOS for Upshur Regional Airport and found the
airport advertising a 400-foot overcast and a mile and a half
visibility. A quick check of Clarksburg showed better weather there,
so we continued the twenty or so miles north and took the visual
approach there. On the descent through the cloud layer, clear ice
swept back over the windshield, making me glad the layer was a thin
one. Underneath the clouds, night had fallen and the transition from
day to night was startlingly quick.
On Thursday there was
heavy rain throughout the day as I worked in my home office. Clouds
crowded the mountaintops with temperatures hanging in the mid 40's
and I wondered about the flight north tomorrow.
Friday
dawned with no change in the weather and I called Flight Service for
an early briefing. Bad news. Freezing levels were forecast to be
lower than the minimum enroute altitude across the mountains, so
another plan was in order. A check of airports along my planned
route revealed that a VFR flight to stay out of the icing might be
possible, but I wasn't convinced it was the smart thing to do. I was
undecided. Should I go to the airport to be ready to go if the
weather changed for the better? Once I loaded the truck to start,
but changed my mind after a few minutes of watching the scudding,
broken layers of clouds overhead, obviously much lower than I would
be while crossing the mountains. The air felt like there was ice in
it, and even SMELLED like there was ice in it, if you know what I
mean.
I unloaded the truck. Perhaps I would drive the
miserable ten hours to Connecticut. Another hour of dithering and I
called Flight Service again. Ha! Now there were pilot reports, and
the icing level predictions had been revised upwards, enough for me
to stay out of the freezer at the MEA. I filled IFR for six thousand
feet, even though it was the wrong altitude for the direction, with
a note in remarks that I wanted six thousand to stay below the
freezing level. The truck was repacked and I headed for the airport.
I've
noticed that many times the flights that cause me to worry the most
in advance, are the flights that end up being the most routine.
Almost all of the minutes that I've spent absolutely terrified in an
airplane came unpredicted and unplanned for, while most of the
flights that I've dreaded have been good ones after all. The Friday
flight was one of these, routine in the extreme, but planning it was
exhausting, and arriving in Danbury I felt as If I had flown much
farther than I really had.
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