Around the patch

My kids called that patch something else: “Look, Mom, a sucker hole!”

“Sucker hole” is pilot jargon that refers to that ever-so-tempting hole in the clouds that could entice you to take off and fly VFR over the top of clouds. It’s legal to do that, but not always safe; hence the term “sucker.” As in, there’s one born every minute. Sucker holes live in the same neighborhood as get-there-itis; if you see one, you’ll likely experience the other.

My son and I were flying from Maryland to North Carolina one hot day in July 2004 when the weather ahead began to look sketchy. There was no ADS-B weather in the cockpit, so a preflight call to flight service for weather information, eyeballs, and a call to Flight Watch en route were my primary weather tools. Cumulus clouds were stacking up, and the haze was getting thicker. I decided to land short of my destination—in Mecklenburg County, Virginia, just north of the Virginia/North Carolina border—and check the weather. The weather resources available at the FBO confirmed my suspicions: Thunderstorms lay ahead, with no easy way to go around them. We decided to stay put for the night in Mecklenburg.

The next day we headed back to the FBO, loaded up the airplane, and began waiting. And waiting. The ceiling was 2,000 feet broken. Not terrible but not great, either. I kept checking the forecast, hoping the conditions would improve. I also telephoned AOPA Editor at Large Tom Horne, who is always willing to help pilots translate weather reports and put that info into perspective (and he still takes my calls).

Another pilot was at the FBO, essentially doing the same thing as me. He’d flown in on a Flight Design CT light sport aircraft. He was en route to New Jersey. LSAs were just starting to hit the scene in 2004, so that was interesting and I took the time to check out his airplane. We chatted about airplanes and compared notes on the weather. I wish I could remember his name.

About 4 p.m. he got up, stretched, and pointed to the sky. “I’m going for it,” he said, indicating a you-know-what in the clouds. He climbed into his airplane, fired up, and took off.

Did he make it to New Jersey? I assume so. If he could maintain VFR and was comfortable with the ceiling and visibility, the federal aviation regulations don’t prohibit flight.

I stayed on the ground and decided to spend a second night in Mecklenburg. My son and I borrowed a car from the FBO and rented a hotel room, and we swam in the hotel pool, ate pizza, and ordered the Starsky & Hutch movie on pay-per-view. We headed back to Maryland the next day. It wasn’t the weekend I’d envisioned, but it was still great fun.

Was I cautious? I had logged about 258 hours at the time, and I was a non-instrument-rated pilot flying a rented Cessna 182 with my 8-year-old son on board. So yes, I was cautious. Non-instrument-rated pilots have been known to misjudge the conditions when attempting to fly VFR over the top, with fatal results if they should lose spatial orientation by accidentally entering clouds. Research indicates pilots get themselves into these situations almost weekly, and it’s why the AOPA Air Safety Institute has launched a safety campaign that runs now through the end of the year and focuses on raising your awareness of this issue so that you will know how to handle it should the situation arise (see “ASI Tips,” p. 13).

Although I still experience a twinge of regret when an abundance of caution turns out not to be necessary, I remind myself of the pilot’s mantra: “It’s better to be on the ground wishing you were flying than in the sky wishing you were on the ground.” Be as cautious as you need to be as you gain experience, and as pilot in command, know your limits and stick to them.