Options
My wife Lisa and I were hoping to be in the Sunshine State on a Sunday evening so that I could attend a meeting with my sister on Monday. This was not our first time making this trip, but two things needed to come together. First, N42PG needed to come out of its annual on time. Some minor issues were discovered while the work was going on, and a one-week turnaround turned into two. Fortunately, the work needed was straightforward, and delays were minimized. The airplane was in my hangar on a Friday, and I took a test flight on Saturday that went well. The second part of the equation was the weather.
There was a possibility of some rain and even snow crossing our planned ground track. The best way to tackle this trip has always been to head almost due south for a landing just south of the big airport in Atlanta. This gets us south of the traffic chaos with virtually no risk of long re-routes while getting the longer of the two legs out of the way. Dublin, Georgia, also has a convenient self-serve fuel station that is available after hours.
The forecast was getting a bit more dubious as the week went on, and we had two alternatives. The first was an airline flight, but that left us with little flexibility in getting back. The second was to possibly head east, maybe even all the way to the coast, before turning south, adding substantial travel time. The return trip, however, was promising several days of clear weather, and I wanted the flexibility of setting our own schedule versus an airline ride. I went to bed the night before our departure cautiously optimistic.
I set an early alarm and got up to check the forecast. If we could be wheels up by our planned time of 8:30 a.m., we’d have pretty clear skies all the way south. Every minute later than that, we ran the risk of the weather having more say than I’d like. It wasn’t the instrument conditions that concerned me so much as the possibility of ice. Over the Smokies, I’d have to climb to at least 8,000 feet to ensure terrain clearance and radar coverage. According to the forecast, we’d only be a few thousand feet below the freezing levels, but 8,000 feet msl would not be 8,000 agl. There were reports of several layers, but such pireps are often inconsistent or incomplete. It wasn’t enough to justify a great deal of confidence. However, going east was still an option. Worst case, we’d go to Savannah or Jacksonville for a fuel stop. The skies were clear, and the weather was moving pretty much at the forecasted speed. We decided to go for it.
A high overcast on the drive to the airport was the front end of the weather we’d be getting at home in a day or two. I’d had the preheater turned on the evening before, and the engine was ready to go when we got to the hangar. Lisa and I did our practiced routine of getting the airplane out of the hangar and the car in. True to form, the engine caught on the third blade, and it was time to call for our clearance.
Cincinnati cleared us as filed, and we were airborne only a few minutes behind schedule. One good thing about cold air and a turbocharged engine is that the climb to altitude is quick. We were level at 7,000 feet in no time, and the ride was smooth. I also had a look at what was in front of us: we’d be fine until we got to the edge of the Smokies, and then we would be in instrument meteorological conditions. On the radio, higher traffic descending first for Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International (CVG) and then for Louisville was calling out some turbulence and light icing. An hour after takeoff, we began to get some nibbles of chop. A few minutes later, we were in IMC, first clouds and then some rain. To my left, off to the east and south, I could see nothing but clear air. That was still an option. The clouds where we were remained mostly raggedy, with little definition. The rain was persistent, and the chop was getting worse, but by no means unbearable. I pulled the power back a bit to keep it as comfortable as possible. In the back seat, Lisa was either asleep or pretending to be. I let her be. Atlanta was working quite a bit of traffic above me, and their reports were great real-time information. I got permission to deviate left (east) of course, and was able to pick my way around some buildups and stay in the clear as much as possible. The inevitable climb to 9,000 came just as the underlayers were beginning to break up. Using the ADS-B weather on ForeFlight, I was able to steer clear of the heaviest rain, but some of the lighter stuff still found its way into 2PG. I put the Rosen visors up to redirect the water off of me and focused my attention on getting out of the weather.
Twenty-six years of airline flying has spoiled me with two tools I wish I could afford: on-board weather radar and true known-icing capabilities, especially wing and engine anti-ice. I didn’t need anti-icing, but I still wish I had it.
Atlanta Center and Approach gave me carte blanche to deviate as needed, and I did, using the autopilot to pick my way clear of the weather as much as possible. After about an hour of pretty solid IMC—still no ice—the rain stopped (both inside and out) and the clouds began to break up. The sun popped out and began to warm the cabin. The outside air temperature jumped up a few degrees. A few minutes later, we were in VMC, direct to the destination and back in smooth air. I eased the throttle back up to pick up some speed. Lisa was still asleep.
Three hours after takeoff, and only 10 minutes later than planned, we touched down on Runway 2 and headed inside.
The flight to St. Petersburg was as smooth as the first one was bumpy. Behind us, the rain had started at home, along with some flurries. We had plans to spend at least a few days, if not more. When a friend of mine in Ft. Myers confirmed his availability, we flew down there for a day of lunch and comradeship. The cold front that had just pushed through the Gulf made for an uncomfortably bumpy 30-minute flight down to FMY, but the return flight to SPG after sundown was smooth and absolutely beautiful, the winds having finally calmed down and left us alone. We spent an extra full day in St. Pete enjoying time with my sister and some friends, and finally made plans to head on back.
The ride home was everything the one down was not. In fact, we could have made the return nonstop, but neither of us could last that long. Atlanta gave us a few minor route changes, but nothing that was really even noticeable. We decided to try out Knoxville Downtown Island airport (DKX) for the refueling stop, and it is now on our list of places to return to. From there to home was an hour. We arrived as we left, under a high overcast, but it was much colder than when we’d left. The Gulf Coast was great while it lasted.
On that short flight back, I reflected on the trip. We had options. We could have played it ultra-safe and airlined our way down. But we didn’t, because there was somewhere to go, an out, even if we had to turn back home. The point of having a traveling airplane is to travel. We could have come home a day earlier or stayed a few more days. Getting a full day in Ft. Myers with a buddy I don’t see often was a great dividend. I could have even left the airplane in Florida if the weather at home collapsed and returned for it later. Convenient? No. But an option? Yes.
As I put 2PG back in the hangar, it was almost as if there was a sense of…mutual pride. I’d trusted the airplane, my experience, and the tools at my disposal, and in exchange, I had been rewarded with the performance I had come to expect—155 TAS—and an assurance that in exchange for doing my part and taking care of my bird, my bird had been happy to take care of me. As always, I patted the spinner as I left the hangar, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say that the airplane winked at me.
