|
Your donation will be appreciated
|
|
We at IMC Club International, Inc. have been supporting our efforts as a goodwill gesture from our own resources. With the increased interest in our organization has come a variety of increased expenses. If you feel we are supplying a valuable tool to keep pilots safe in instrument conditions then please give generously. Your donation will be rewarded with our deepest appreciation and dedication to keeping these valuable resources available for years to come.
Since we are a 501(c)(3) Non-Profit organization, all your contributions are tax deductible.
|
|
|
 |
Mountain Flying: a trip to Arizona, part 2
|
By Peter Conant - The storm had blown through the night before and by next morning I was considering whether to file IFR for the short flight from Bowie to Tucson. My host was quite sure a VFR trip through the mountain pass would be no problem at all: "Just follow the highway and you'll have good cloud clearance all the way over." Perhaps it was because I did not want to offend this gentleman who had shown us such hospitality that I was temporarily sidetracked from my own natural caution. After all, he knew the country better than I ever would and I reasoned I could always turn around and land if need be. Such are the thoughts that occupy the minds of fools and trusting pilots.
Chuck and my fellow traveler Jim, the King Air pilot, sat in Chuck's pickup at the departure end of the west-facing runway as I did my run-up, ran the checklist and taxied onto the red gravel and clay strip. I could see them both at the far end, waiting for me to fly right over them and continue westbound to Dragoon Pass. The takeoff was uneventful, the winds were light and visibility was greater than fifty miles. I climbed over the desert toward the pass, noticing Cochise Airport on my right and a depression to my left known as a "non-perennial lake", the symbol for which shows up on the Sectional Chart as a dotted grid within dashed lines. Something one does not see back east.
Approaching the pass, the terrain rose but the cloud bases at 5,300 feet MSL did not. I realized I was now flying into the narrow end of a funnel and that soon I would have to decide whether to turn around, descend to avoid the clouds, or punch up through the clouds to VFR conditions without a clearance. The latter did not seem to be a terribly good idea, since the mountains on either side of the pass were charted as peaks a few thousand feet above the terrain. It was then I noticed that the cars coming toward me all had their lights on, even though it was ten thirty in the morning. And as I realized that the fog and cloud layer went right down to the surface, I lost sight of the ground. I had flown into a cloud at only five hundred feet AGL.
I don't think I panicked since I was prepared for this, but suddenly my options were very clear. I was not going to descend and I was not going to turn around in the blind. So I punched up through the cloud layer in a shallow ascending left turn to clear what the chart was showing as a low ridge off the my right. Mixture rich, propeller full forward, throttle fire-walled, rate of climb over 1,500 feet per minute at sixty knots.
I popped out on top at around 7,300 feet. I could see three mountain peaks poking through the undercast; one to my right, one to my left and one straight ahead. Fortunately, all were at least ten miles away. After collecting myself and mentally thanking all my instrument instructors for a job well done, I contacted Tucson approach and filed for the ILS to runway 11 left. A welcome end to some pretty stupid flight planning on my part. Getting local knowledge is fine, but as Ronald Reagan used to say, "Trust but verify." The ILS led me over a ridge where the step-down fixes were less than one thousand feet above the peaks and I watched them very carefully as I descended in and out of clouds. As the morning METAR had told me, the bases were 2,700 above the ground. Davis Monthan Air Force was to my left as I slid down the glideslope to a soft landing.
The family gathering I had come here to be part of was delightful with Mexican food done right, a mariachi band for the occasion, and conversations with my wife's cousins and relatives I had not seen for years. My wife's plane had been delayed in Phoenix due to the storm the day before which had stranded me in Bowie. But now here we all were, safe and happy.
After marveling at how much we all needed to protect ourselves from the Arizona sun in February and looking with amazement at the lush, well irrigated golf courses surrounding our "hacienda" it was time to depart. My first leg would be to Dalhart, Texas up on the panhandle. The weather was calling for moderate turbulence over the mountains to the east and I filed for eleven thousand feet. It was good VFR with some gusty surface winds, while the winds aloft would be right on my back as I headed east. The pilot briefing "room" at the FBO was only a desk and a phone located along a corridor leading out to the ramp. Every time I tried to listen to what Flight Service was telling me, the door to the ramp would open with jet noise and wind slamming down the corridor. It was late morning and I couldn't wait to get going. Having gotten some questionable local information on the way into Tucson I was not eager to check my plans with the local pilots. Another big mistake.
Moderate turbulence in the east does not bother me a great deal although it can be uncomfortable, but never a safety factor. But in the desert southwest, flying after noontime can subject a pilot to very enthusiastic thermal updrafts along with a turbulent wind over the mountain tops. I knew this but was counting on the forecast for the moderate turbulence to be no worse than what I was used to. And that proved to be a ridiculous assumption.
After departing Tucson and climbing toward the first range of mountains the turbulence increased dramatically. At ten thousand feet I was having trouble holding the Bonanza in a constant climb and asked departure for twelve thousand to try and get above the roiling air. Crossing the range and looking down at the desert floor ahead was very unnerving. Here I was, over two miles in the air, watching dust devils spiral up to over six thousand feet above ground level. I wondered, if I had to put the big bird down somewhere, if I could even control it. And then the real fun started.
Flying downwind in heavy air in the lee of a mountain range puts tremendous pressure on the elevators: the downward forces are destabilizing and make holding altitude a real chore. I asked for a block altitude from twelve to thirteen thousand and climbed a little higher for some relief, but now I was up in the oxygen altitudes and knew I did not want to stay there for very long. It felt like a tractor trailer was tailgating me and bumping me, letting me know it had no intention of making this easy. After the first hour there was some diminishing of the howling winds, but all the way into Dalhart the bumps and upsets were a handful. When the literature tells us that winging over the desert in the afternoon is potentially an unflyable condition, you had better believe it.
What's to be learned from all this? Local terrain conditions and the local knowledge to be gotten from fellow aviators is ALWAYS useful. I should not have let my experience at Bowie foil my determination to get all relevant information for the particulars of a desert flight over mountains in the southwest. I do a lot of cross country flying and am humbled by the beauty and majesty of our country. For me, flying into unknown landscapes borders on a spiritual experience. And now I am further humbled by how much I realize I don't know about other climates and topography. Would I have flown in Alaska or over the wilds of northern Canada without checking with the locals for tips and stories? Never. Why I thought this was unnecessary in one of the most inhospitable but stunning landscapes I have ever visited is still a mystery. Good judgment resulting from bad experience is the best teacher, but I will never again put myself in a dicey situation without diligently working to first discover all the potential problems. Which is why, gentle reader, I write about this stuff. New! To comment on this article please click HERE | |
Mastering the Art of Instrument Navigation
IMC Club International Inc.
125 Access Road
Norwood, Massachusetts 02062
|
|
