The best way to avoid Flying in IFR conditions? Be loaded for Bear! Louise and I had to go to Minnesota for some family business over the long holiday weekend, and watching the weather the days before, I had everything ready to file and fly IFR both ways – Dual-redundant EFIS all set, GPS database current, pilot(s) current and ready. With the equipment we have in the Val, we’re ready for anything (except thunderstorms and ice…). So of course, the possible low weather forecast for the trip up evaporated the night before, and we launched into an early-morning sky that was a bit hazy, but VFR legal and rapidly clearing to mucky but clear. So much for the trip up (two-hop, VFR, 6:30 on the clock due to headwinds, but split between the two of us, an easy day).
While taking care of business in the Cities, we kept an eye on the return weather. I needed to be back in Houston for a Wednesday meeting, so we figured we’d fly home on Monday unless Tuesday looked absolutely perfect (rare). Our fall-back plan was simple – if we couldn’t’ get out and home either day, I could hop a SWA flight home, and Louise could bring the Val when the weather cleared – she had more work flexibility this week than I did. It’s amazing how much work one can do these days with a laptop and a cell phone! With a low pressure area and a cold front forming up in the mountains and getting ready to move into the plains on Sunday/Monday, we kept an eye on the weather page all weekend. Sunday’s picnic/BBQ was dampened by occasional showers in the vicinity, but by 1900 local, the clearing line was evident to the west, and by sunset it was clear. A line of showers/thundershowers now stretched southwest from central Wisconsin to El Paso.
Monday morning dawned very early in Minnesota (I forget what summertime at high latitudes can be like – light skies at 0500!), and it looked like the line of weather behind the front had died away – mostly. A few light showers showed on the radar in eastern Iowa and north Missouri, and a stubborn pocket of red and orange (thunderstorms) seemed to have the eastern half of Oklahoma in a clench, neither building or receding – and not really moving. Our course takes us right down the seam between Kansas/Missouri and Oklahoma/Arkansas, so this blob was of distinct interest. The METARs were good (VFR) all the way home, and the TAF’s equally optimistic. This didn’t seem to jive with that cold front charted on the maps, but since we were in the clear all way to our fuel stop in eastern Kansas (Fort Scott), I figured we could get that far and then decide if we had to go out west to make an end run around storms. It would have been a long deviation – out to Wichita Falls or so – but this time of year, that would have made more sense than going east if things were building.
First-leg Weather (The Back Seater gets the 396):
The nice thing about flying an RV is that if you’re airborne from Minnesota before 0700, you’re halfway to the Gulf of Mexico by coffee time (0930 or so). That means that we were halfway long before noon, and since summer thunder-dodging is usually an afternoon sport, we could be home before the warm-up rounds began. Louise had the first leg, so while she flew us down to Kansas, I spent my time watching that weather down in Oklahoma. I watched it hard – and it just sat there. I don’t hold much faith in psychic powers, but as I stared it, the dang blob just sat there and got weaker! The front seemed to have pulled up stationary about where it was in the morning, and surprisingly, there was little new activity cooking off in front of it. When we landed for fuel, the direct course line was still showing “clear’ on the METARS, so we wasted little time turning around, and I completed the checklist on the taxi, launching as soon as we reached the runway.
Oklahoma Weather as we stopped for Fuel:
It looked like “Direct PGO” (Rich Mountain VOR) would keep us east of the remaining radar returns until we headed direct to home, so that is what I keyed in to the navigator. Sure enough, the cells around Tulsa and on down south continued to die off – a high thin overcast preventing them from getting that important solar boost. A persistent area of cells down near Paris was my only real concern, but as we cross the ridges of southern Arkansas, the cell indications (on the XM) went away, followed by the lightning strikes, and only some heavy showers remained as we flew by about 30 miles to the east. Take that atmosphere!
Of course, getting cocky too early has its consequences. Crossing the red River put us back in the gulf Coast environmental zone, it’s heat and humidity combining to produce that wonderful soupy haze I have come to hate over the past 30 years. Our course lien passed right over Longview (GGG), and beyond that, I started to see some little pixels of green, then yellow, and quickly orange pop up between there and Lufkin. Looking through the murk ahead, I could see white cauliflowers pocking out of the haze layer, and it was apparent that they were growing pretty fast – in my estimation, much quicker than we were going to be able to climb (even in an RV!). Ceilings along the way were still reported about 4,000’, and we were cruising along at 8.5, facing growing walls of white. There were no returns to the west of course, so I dialed in a heading that put me clear to the right of anything I could see out the window, and kicked the vertical out of Autopilot to head for the deck. No way I wanted to be IFR in those turbulent cumulous with aspirations for greatness! We ducked under the edge of the clouds at the expected 4,000, opened up the vents to get some airflow (warm of course), and dialed back in for home, resigning ourselves to 45 minutes of bumps to end the day. Sure enough, we watched the showers build along our original course line for about 60 miles – it would not have been fun to be there! By the time we cleared the area of showers, we were close enough to the Houston Class B that it made little sense to go back up above the convection layer, so we stayed low and made a stop to pick up fuel before heading home to our airpark.
Another 13 hours on the airplane, but only half of it in my own logbook – the other half going to Louise this time. But it all counts towards the sum total of aeronautical knowledge and the experience of watching the weather once again. Tuesday is showing plenty of Weather up in Minnesota, making me feel good about our decision to dash for home before things got worse. When we crossed the cold front near Joplin in late morning, it was a non-event – not even a wind shift marked the passage. That front seems to have evaporated completely now, and little remains of the forecasted events for the week – replaced by whatever it is that the atmosphere has decided to do instead. Taking advantage of the opportunities you have instead of banking on two-day-out predictions is a good rule this time of year – at least across the central part of this vast continent. Another good lesson in a never-ending class on how to live above the surface of this planet that we call earth – and with two pilots in the plane, the tuition gets split two ways!
Paul
While taking care of business in the Cities, we kept an eye on the return weather. I needed to be back in Houston for a Wednesday meeting, so we figured we’d fly home on Monday unless Tuesday looked absolutely perfect (rare). Our fall-back plan was simple – if we couldn’t’ get out and home either day, I could hop a SWA flight home, and Louise could bring the Val when the weather cleared – she had more work flexibility this week than I did. It’s amazing how much work one can do these days with a laptop and a cell phone! With a low pressure area and a cold front forming up in the mountains and getting ready to move into the plains on Sunday/Monday, we kept an eye on the weather page all weekend. Sunday’s picnic/BBQ was dampened by occasional showers in the vicinity, but by 1900 local, the clearing line was evident to the west, and by sunset it was clear. A line of showers/thundershowers now stretched southwest from central Wisconsin to El Paso.
Monday morning dawned very early in Minnesota (I forget what summertime at high latitudes can be like – light skies at 0500!), and it looked like the line of weather behind the front had died away – mostly. A few light showers showed on the radar in eastern Iowa and north Missouri, and a stubborn pocket of red and orange (thunderstorms) seemed to have the eastern half of Oklahoma in a clench, neither building or receding – and not really moving. Our course takes us right down the seam between Kansas/Missouri and Oklahoma/Arkansas, so this blob was of distinct interest. The METARs were good (VFR) all the way home, and the TAF’s equally optimistic. This didn’t seem to jive with that cold front charted on the maps, but since we were in the clear all way to our fuel stop in eastern Kansas (Fort Scott), I figured we could get that far and then decide if we had to go out west to make an end run around storms. It would have been a long deviation – out to Wichita Falls or so – but this time of year, that would have made more sense than going east if things were building.
First-leg Weather (The Back Seater gets the 396):
The nice thing about flying an RV is that if you’re airborne from Minnesota before 0700, you’re halfway to the Gulf of Mexico by coffee time (0930 or so). That means that we were halfway long before noon, and since summer thunder-dodging is usually an afternoon sport, we could be home before the warm-up rounds began. Louise had the first leg, so while she flew us down to Kansas, I spent my time watching that weather down in Oklahoma. I watched it hard – and it just sat there. I don’t hold much faith in psychic powers, but as I stared it, the dang blob just sat there and got weaker! The front seemed to have pulled up stationary about where it was in the morning, and surprisingly, there was little new activity cooking off in front of it. When we landed for fuel, the direct course line was still showing “clear’ on the METARS, so we wasted little time turning around, and I completed the checklist on the taxi, launching as soon as we reached the runway.
Oklahoma Weather as we stopped for Fuel:
It looked like “Direct PGO” (Rich Mountain VOR) would keep us east of the remaining radar returns until we headed direct to home, so that is what I keyed in to the navigator. Sure enough, the cells around Tulsa and on down south continued to die off – a high thin overcast preventing them from getting that important solar boost. A persistent area of cells down near Paris was my only real concern, but as we cross the ridges of southern Arkansas, the cell indications (on the XM) went away, followed by the lightning strikes, and only some heavy showers remained as we flew by about 30 miles to the east. Take that atmosphere!
Of course, getting cocky too early has its consequences. Crossing the red River put us back in the gulf Coast environmental zone, it’s heat and humidity combining to produce that wonderful soupy haze I have come to hate over the past 30 years. Our course lien passed right over Longview (GGG), and beyond that, I started to see some little pixels of green, then yellow, and quickly orange pop up between there and Lufkin. Looking through the murk ahead, I could see white cauliflowers pocking out of the haze layer, and it was apparent that they were growing pretty fast – in my estimation, much quicker than we were going to be able to climb (even in an RV!). Ceilings along the way were still reported about 4,000’, and we were cruising along at 8.5, facing growing walls of white. There were no returns to the west of course, so I dialed in a heading that put me clear to the right of anything I could see out the window, and kicked the vertical out of Autopilot to head for the deck. No way I wanted to be IFR in those turbulent cumulous with aspirations for greatness! We ducked under the edge of the clouds at the expected 4,000, opened up the vents to get some airflow (warm of course), and dialed back in for home, resigning ourselves to 45 minutes of bumps to end the day. Sure enough, we watched the showers build along our original course line for about 60 miles – it would not have been fun to be there! By the time we cleared the area of showers, we were close enough to the Houston Class B that it made little sense to go back up above the convection layer, so we stayed low and made a stop to pick up fuel before heading home to our airpark.
Another 13 hours on the airplane, but only half of it in my own logbook – the other half going to Louise this time. But it all counts towards the sum total of aeronautical knowledge and the experience of watching the weather once again. Tuesday is showing plenty of Weather up in Minnesota, making me feel good about our decision to dash for home before things got worse. When we crossed the cold front near Joplin in late morning, it was a non-event – not even a wind shift marked the passage. That front seems to have evaporated completely now, and little remains of the forecasted events for the week – replaced by whatever it is that the atmosphere has decided to do instead. Taking advantage of the opportunities you have instead of banking on two-day-out predictions is a good rule this time of year – at least across the central part of this vast continent. Another good lesson in a never-ending class on how to live above the surface of this planet that we call earth – and with two pilots in the plane, the tuition gets split two ways!
Paul
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