Pilots helping pilots

Marci lives in Texas. Every year or so she likes to make a trip in her Cessna 177 from the Lone Star State to Massachusetts, where she has friends and family. Bob the Shih Tzu is her constant travel companion (see “Dog & Plane,” June 2021 Flight Training).

Learning that my home is dog-friendly, Marci had reached out to me a few years ago through mutual friends to ask if she and Bob could stop over on her way back home to Texas. I was happy to make a new flying friend.

There was no traveling in 2020, but this year Marci emailed to ask if she and Bob could again stay at my home. Marci’s enthusiasm for flying long distances has always inspired me, and I was happy to host her once more. She was to land in Frederick on a Tuesday afternoon in July.

I tracked her airplane on FlightAware and noticed that she seemed not to be making the progress she’d hoped for. Launching from an airport in Massachusetts, she had stopped in Poughkeepsie, New York, and then in Allentown, Pennsylvania—and there she stayed.

“The haze is too thick,” she told me on the phone. “I’m a VFR pilot. I’m afraid to push my luck.”

She’d made the right call. Here in the heat of the summer a pernicious layer of dust, smoke, and other particulates gets trapped by the mountain ranges and can bring visibility to 3 miles on an otherwise VFR day. This year the problem has been exacerbated by smoke from wildfires drifting east from Oregon. Poor visibility can be disastrous for VFR pilots if they lose ground reference. And it’s a subtle hazard, because you don’t expect to go flying on a VFR day and wind up in near-instrument conditions with not an actual cloud in sight.

Marci had flown as far as she felt comfortable, but she didn’t feel she could go farther. And now she was on the ground in Allentown.

The FBO had been calling around trying to find a hotel room for Marci and Bob, but no luck so far. Could I see if there were Ninety-Nines—members of the International Organization of Women Pilots—in the area who might be able to help?

I knew exactly who to call. Lin Caywood, longtime Ninety-Nine, happened to be in her office with a copy of the group’s directory at hand. She found a name in Allentown and gave me the phone number. I placed a call, and a half-hour later student pilot Molly Amsler called me back. Yes, she’d be happy to pick up Marci and Bob and give them a place to stay.

“The haze was really bad today,” Molly told me. “I had my checkride but I was able to get through it.” Student pilot Molly was no longer a student—she’d become a private pilot that same day!

I put Marci and Molly in touch, and I called Lin to let her know that her assistance had been invaluable. Then I put down the phone and marveled at how aviation takes care of its own.

Pilots are a caring bunch of people, eager to help when there’s a call to action. Pilots step up in big and small ways, transporting homeless animals, medical supplies and food and fresh water, toys at Christmas, or patients to distant medical facilities. And they are always ready to help other pilots. It could be something as small as helping to push an airplane in the hangar, or something like giving a ride to another airport, and anything in between. Recently I called on a colleague who’s an A&P to help me figure out why the passenger seatback in my Cessna 182 was reclined too far and couldn’t be reset to its upright position. He came out, checked the hinges, gave the seat a good whack, and presto—no more stuck seat.

I’m so grateful to be a part of a community that cares for people so much. What have you done for your fellow pilot lately?