It has been so long since Houston has had steady precipitation that we?ve almost forgotten what a rainy day is like. Oh sure, there have been then usual occasional gully-washers, but they can drown one neighborhood and leave the next one over parched. But the first cool front of fall had drifted to a stop over the coast and pumped moisture over the area for the most of the day, starting out with lightning and thunder but lessoning to drizzly rain, scattered areas of thicker showers, and broken, thin layers of cloud. The visibilities weren?t bad, and because the layers were broken, one reporting station was showing overcast at 1,500 while the one a few miles away was broken at 6,000. ?Confused? was the best way to describe the evening sky, but the weather at home wasn?t bad as I finished up a little supper and walked out to the hangar.
The very lightest rain could be heard on the metal roof, but I couldn?t feel it as I stood on the ramp, and the top of the 1200 foot tower several miles away was clearly visible, so it was VFR. I had gone six days without flying, and that was enough. The Valkyrie was second in line for the door, as Mikey was staged up front for Louise?s morning commute, which didn?t happen due to the aforementioned thunder and lightning ? but it wasn?t hard to push them both out and do a little shuffling of the deck. It looked to be getting dark early, so I suspected thicker clouds to the far west, hiding the evening sun. But overhead and slightly north I could see glints of what almost passed for blue, so I figured it was safe to at least take a turn around the patch. A short back-taxi and a quick liftoff revealed excellent visibilities, and a thin broken deck from about 1500? to maybe 2200?, with long, large breaks of maybe twenty by five miles all over. It was sort of a broken overcast, if you will.
The air was smooth, and the XM was showing large areas of green, with a little yellow here and there ? some patches of clear of course. The green wasn?t much more than an occasional small drop on the windshield, and the yellows represented gentle airplane washes. Keeping my eye on the large hole I?d climbed through, I set out over a nice, flat field of white, the next layer at least five thousand feet above. There was no traffic on the CTAF ? it was not a day that someone would willingly drive to the airport to get their airplane out. Bbut if it?s in the backyard, it?s easy to go have a look. The very light rain continued to hiss along the canopy, hardly reducing visibility at all, but slowly easing the grip of a few bug streaks on the windshield. It is amazing what you can hear when you have a fresh set of ear buds in the Halo ? the engine noise disappears, and the air coming in the vents is audible but not overwhelming.
This was a flight just to see what was there, but a few wingovers and a couple of gentle rolls felt good ? sort of like a little stretching after getting out of bed. I played around above the bottom layer for a few minutes, looking for a nice ?rinse cycle? to complete the airplane cleaning before heading home. Rainy days are not all created equal, and this would have been beautiful weather in which to practice IFR safely ? dropping through layers with a little shower now and again to make it real, all the while with good clear air under an easy ceiling. Yet it was just as nice to be VFR, cool for a change under the big bubble canopy without the brutal sun of summer beating down to scorch the air.
With twenty minutes on the clock, the yellow began to overtake the green on the XM as I looked to the southwest, so it was time to head home. My big wide hole was still where I?d left it, Polly Ranch hiding just under the edge of the layer, winds calm, and the atmosphere quiet. Landing to the west, I let the Val roll out a little long rather than play with the brakes on a damp runway, and as I pushed her back into the hangar, I noticed just a few new drops of rain on the canopy. The hiss on the canopy was replaced by a hiss on the hangar roof as I slipped over to the workbench for an hour of metal work on the latest project. Tomorrow would be hot and humid ? the cold front couldn?t win this early in the season. But the evening was nice, and RV?ating was at its best, building and flying with the promise of the coming autumn.
Paul
The very lightest rain could be heard on the metal roof, but I couldn?t feel it as I stood on the ramp, and the top of the 1200 foot tower several miles away was clearly visible, so it was VFR. I had gone six days without flying, and that was enough. The Valkyrie was second in line for the door, as Mikey was staged up front for Louise?s morning commute, which didn?t happen due to the aforementioned thunder and lightning ? but it wasn?t hard to push them both out and do a little shuffling of the deck. It looked to be getting dark early, so I suspected thicker clouds to the far west, hiding the evening sun. But overhead and slightly north I could see glints of what almost passed for blue, so I figured it was safe to at least take a turn around the patch. A short back-taxi and a quick liftoff revealed excellent visibilities, and a thin broken deck from about 1500? to maybe 2200?, with long, large breaks of maybe twenty by five miles all over. It was sort of a broken overcast, if you will.
The air was smooth, and the XM was showing large areas of green, with a little yellow here and there ? some patches of clear of course. The green wasn?t much more than an occasional small drop on the windshield, and the yellows represented gentle airplane washes. Keeping my eye on the large hole I?d climbed through, I set out over a nice, flat field of white, the next layer at least five thousand feet above. There was no traffic on the CTAF ? it was not a day that someone would willingly drive to the airport to get their airplane out. Bbut if it?s in the backyard, it?s easy to go have a look. The very light rain continued to hiss along the canopy, hardly reducing visibility at all, but slowly easing the grip of a few bug streaks on the windshield. It is amazing what you can hear when you have a fresh set of ear buds in the Halo ? the engine noise disappears, and the air coming in the vents is audible but not overwhelming.
This was a flight just to see what was there, but a few wingovers and a couple of gentle rolls felt good ? sort of like a little stretching after getting out of bed. I played around above the bottom layer for a few minutes, looking for a nice ?rinse cycle? to complete the airplane cleaning before heading home. Rainy days are not all created equal, and this would have been beautiful weather in which to practice IFR safely ? dropping through layers with a little shower now and again to make it real, all the while with good clear air under an easy ceiling. Yet it was just as nice to be VFR, cool for a change under the big bubble canopy without the brutal sun of summer beating down to scorch the air.
With twenty minutes on the clock, the yellow began to overtake the green on the XM as I looked to the southwest, so it was time to head home. My big wide hole was still where I?d left it, Polly Ranch hiding just under the edge of the layer, winds calm, and the atmosphere quiet. Landing to the west, I let the Val roll out a little long rather than play with the brakes on a damp runway, and as I pushed her back into the hangar, I noticed just a few new drops of rain on the canopy. The hiss on the canopy was replaced by a hiss on the hangar roof as I slipped over to the workbench for an hour of metal work on the latest project. Tomorrow would be hot and humid ? the cold front couldn?t win this early in the season. But the evening was nice, and RV?ating was at its best, building and flying with the promise of the coming autumn.
Paul
