Chilly Weather and Mountain Flying

Just before New Years, I decided to take one of my best friends, Brendan Korb, up into the air. After waking up and looking at nothing but a clear sky, I decided that December 30th would be the best day for such an event.

We arrived at Boeing Field and I began to pre-flight N738EP, showing Korb the various preflight checks we do to ensure that the aircraft is airworthy. After completing the checklist for the 1977 C172, we were ready to get the engine started and to be on our way: scheduled departure time of 1:30pm PST.

I completed the engine start checklist and over-primed the engine, as I had been taught by one of the check instructors for the flying club that I was renting the aircraft from. Turning the ignition switch in 35F degree weather, the propeller began to crank. After about 30 seconds, nothing. My passenger began to look frightened, but this wasn't the first time this had happened to us.

I cranked again, hoping to the good lord above that the propeller would engage so that we could be on our way. After another minute, Nothing.

Luckily, another instructor was nearby and witnessed the failed startup. Jonathan Tann came over and offered to see if he could start the engine. After him trying, no luck. He then began to ask me questions about what my startup procedure was.

"Only the list," I told him. He looked at me like I was crazy. "Only the list?! Did you spin the prop?" He asked me. "No sir," I said.

Tann walked me out to the front of the aircraft and explained to me that in weather from 32-60 degrees, the engine needs a little extra help other than the over-priming. He explained that in order for the propeller to catch in the colder weather, you want to spin the propellor a couple times to lubricate the components of the engine with the oil.

This makes perfect sense: In colder than normal weather, the viscosity of the oil within your aircraft, as it has been sitting on the line all night and morning, is very high. Therefore, the oil will not flow as easily as it will after the engine has been running. If you can heat up your engine with an industrial heater, the oil within the engine will lubricate much more quickly and your engine will startup faster. If there is no heater present, try to lubricate the engine by moving the oil throughout its components.

Korb and I decided to come back in about an hour to retry the startup, as the day was beautiful and we weren't going to pass up the opportunity to fly.

After a quick lunch, we were back at the airport. I re-pre-lighted, this time turning the propellor about 5 times to ensure that it would start up.

After getting in the plane and completing the pre-start checklist, I turned the ignition. Like magic, the propeller caught and the airplane started right up! After a bit of cheering, I began the taxi, making radio calls to KBFI ground at the same time.

After receiving clearance for a Valley Departure, we departed Runway 13L and were on our way.

After climbing up to 10000 feet and staying just below the Seattle's Class Bravo airspace, we leveled off for cruise and headed toward Mount Rainier.

"Can we fly around it?" Asked Korb.

Remembering back to Aviation Meteorology, I recalled that winds going around a mountain or peak can be dangerous news for airplanes. I looked down at the winds aloft I had taken from the Weather Briefing. Winds at 14,000 feet were just above 40 knots from the West. "As long as we don't get to close to the Eastern Face, we should be okay!" I said, beginning a slow ascent to 12,000.

Korb grabbed his camera and began to take some awesome photos of the mountain. Below are photos from each side of the Mountain.

As we passed Little Tahoma and ventured to the East side of the mountain, things began to get bumpy. I paralleled the airplane with the wind and let the wind take us east for a few minutes to get out of the turbulence that the mountain was creating.

Apparently it wasn't enough. As I began a turn to the South, a downdraft from the mountain caught my right wing. The airplane went sideways and into almost a 75 degree angle. Panicking, I set up for spin recovery with my hand on the throttle. A quick correction and ailerons to the left and we were back horizontal again. The downburst had ended as quickly as it began.

But the fun wasn't over. After setting up horizontally, things got bumpier. Fear had come and gone, and there was nothing but sheer terror in my eyes.

I put the airplane at a 45 degree angle to the wind and travelled to the Southeast. After continually looking backwards, we were finally south of the mountain: the air had become a lot smoother. I turned the airplane into the wind and headed back towards the Puget Sound.

After landing, I recalled that I hadn't opened a VFR flight plan. If we had crashed up there, it was likely that we wouldn't have been reported missing for hours, maybe even days. That was to be the last time I would ever fly in the mountains without a flight plan.

As for Mount Rainier: I don't think I'll ever go as close to that mountain as I did that day. That mountain is evil; there's a reason indian tribes have scary stories about that mountain.

--

About a week later, my friend Garrett Hackler invited me to fly him to his college in Ellensburg. We planned on a 2:30pm departure from KBFI. After getting the plane started and fixing a problem with the radios in the cockpit, we were on our way over the cascades.

My plan was to fly directly over I90 for a good 50 miles, and then turn south to meet up with Ellensburg. But not without first calling in to Seattle Radio and opening a flight plan.

We landed just before dark and tied the plane down on Bowers Field's Transient Line. I planned on spending the night with Hackler, while my plane sat outside in the 5 degree weather.

After waking up in the morning and preparing for my first solo flight across the mountains, I got back out to the airplane.

I preflighted quickly, knocking off the frost on top of the wings and hopping in the freezing aircraft, but not before turning the propeller like I had been taught. Knowing that it was going to be a tough start, I needed all the help I could get, so I over-primed the engine, too.

I turned the key. Absolutely nothing. Turned it again. The propeller turned an inch, and then went backwards two inches.

Too cold, I thought to myself. Damn. How was I going to get back to Seattle.

I walked into the nearby FBO and asked them if they had any type of engine heater. It was just my luck: they did. The maintenance crew at the FBO rolled out a humongous industrial heater similar to the one below:

After 30 minutes of waiting for my aircraft to warm up, I checked the oil, which miraculously dripped off of the dipstick, and was back in the cockpit. Turning the key, the engine started up and within the hour, I was back on the ground in Seattle.

The biggest things I learned that week were that in order to ensure that your aircraft is ready for cold weather operation, you should check the oil. If the oil doesn't drip off of the dipstick like warm honey, then you shouldn't attempt to start it. If the oil is close dripping like honey, then turn the propeller a few times, than give the start a shot. If the weather is below 40 and you physically don't want to check the oil: heat it anyway.

Oh, yeah: And always file a flight plan and be in constant communication with ATC while mountain flying. Flight following is a pilot's best friend!

--

Radio frequencies used during these two trips were the following:
KELN: 123.0
ASOS KELN: 118.375
NAV from KELN: 117.9 track 268 until signal lost.
NAV to KSEA: 116.8 track 268 until insight of Seattle.
KBFI: 118.3  121.9(GND)

Flight Following:
West of Pass: Seattle Approach 119.2
East of Pass: Seattle Center 127.05

Beaching 21 Tango

Preflighting a Seaplane is hard work. Imagine only being on one side of a land airplane and having to do the entire preflight checklist by standing on one side.

A Sea pilot has a few more things to check on, too. Not only does he check everything on the normal checklist, but he must also check to make sure that all of the cables that connect the rudders to the tail and pedals are free and untangled. But preflighting isn't the only thing that's weird about these beautiful airplanes.

A Seaplane handles slowly, almost as if it were a boat. After pushing off from the dock, running up to the cabin and starting the engine (away from the dock) the Seaplane begins to sail. It's interesting stuff, really. You expect a quick response when you begin to control the pedals, but instead, you receive a slow and large radius turn on the water. Wind plays even more of a factor, pushing the pilot to get the engine started even more quickly and getting under way sooner than possible.
--
I began my day on Christmas Eve (Dec 24) at home, waking up a little after 9 and getting picked up by Bob, my Sea instructor at 9:30. Eager to get on the water, we headed downtown to Seattle Seaplanes. (SS)

At the Port, or FBO, or what-have-you, we let out the air of the sinking dock at SS and watched N5721T, a Cessna 172 with a constant speed propeller. But not before I went for a swim in the frigid waters of Lake Union; As I was jumping on the sinking dock to untie the floats, I slipped on the wet wood and my left leg went straight into the water. Luckily, SS had an extra pair of pants that I could borrow.

The weather wasn't too bad. BKN deck at 6000, so good enough for Seaplane Flying. We moved the plane over to the passenger dock and began to preflight. After turning the plane by grabbing the tail and moving the plane in a child-like fashion, we were able to preflight both sides of the plane.

Pushing off from the dock and running up the floats and into the cabin, I started the engine with Bob in the right seat. A bit of a cold start, but the plane still started. We began our water taxi into the bay.

After talking for a few minutes and taxiing to the south side of the lake, we began our run-up. A run-up in a Seaplane is quite an unusual thing to experience. The plane has no brakes, so in order to do the run-up, you have to move. In essence, the left seat will complete the run up while the right seat steers and avoids water traffic. And then the pilots will switch and the right seat will check the left.

With the Run-up completed, I made the proper radio call on 122.8 (Lake Union CTAF) and we began our take off roll. Take-off is similar to a soft-field, except instead of hovering in ground effect, the pilot tries to get the floats "on a plane" in the water to reduce the amount of drag. The Plane, at the correct airspeed, will begin to lift off of the water. At this point, the object is to stay in ground effect until Vx, then pull back and climb.

We crossed over the Ballard Locks and headed over towards the West side of Bainbridge Island at 1300 feet. Upon crossing over the bay, I began a descent and planned a spot to land. Lowering to 1000 feet, I slowed the plane down and added flaps.

On short final, I began to round out. The idea is to create more ground effect and let the plane settle down on the water at a vertical speed of 100 fpm. When the plane touches down, the normal instinct is to let off on the back pressure and let the plane slow down, just as a land plane. In fact, that's exactly what I did. Apparently, not a good idea. The correct way to continue the landing roll is to continue the back pressure until the plane was come to a walking pace.

It seems like everything in Seaplane Flying is back pressure, at least when you're on the ground.

We decided to beach the plane. My first Seaplane Beaching. An interesting concept. I set up for the beaching, coming toward the planned beach at a 45 degree angle. While we were 25 feet out, I put the plane in idle and cut the engine. Hoping out of the plane and standing on the front of the float, the plane came up onto the beach. I hopped onto the rocky beach and pulled the plane in, pushed it out a bit, and turned the plane with the tail facing in.

After beaching, we had a quick photo op and were on our way again.

After a few more touch-and-gos on Lake Union, we called it a day. But not before figuring out how to work the Bendix-King radio.

A lot of pilots have experienced this, but I had never thought to figure it out. On these interesting radios, when turning the large knob, the numbers before the decimal point will move up or down. Therefore, you can move from 123 to 124 to 125. By using the smaller knob, the two numbers to the right of the decimals will change in intervals of 5 hundredths. Therefore, you can get the result of 123.45 to 123.50 to 123.55.

But what if the frequency needed is 127.275? How do you get to that frequency? The answer? Simple. Pull on the little knob until it pops out. Then, turn it. The result will look like 127.27. Interesting, right?

As you can see from the photo below, Com 1's radio is set to 135.17, utilizing this "pull out the smaller knob" idea. You learn something new everyday!

Dinner in Kenmore, Dessert in Westport

After a checkout with a local flight club in a C172, I began doing some flying in and around the greater Puget Sound region. On Sunday the 19th, I packed the plane with my Parents and brother Trevor and took them on a scenic flight around Seattle and up towards the San Juans. A quick landing at Jefferson County Airport (0S9) and a copilot switch and we were headed back towards Boeing Field (KBFI). 

Today, I finished some Christmas shopping and decided to reward myself with a night flight. Where to go? After looking at the Seattle Sectional, Brendan Korb, one of the passengers, and I decided to take a cross country to Ocean Shores. I began all the planning, received the Weather from DUATS, and called in to flight service for a standard briefing. 

To my surprise, Shelton, an airport along the route, reported a Visibility of 3 SM. We planned on flying north of it by 15 miles, but despite telling the briefer that they still reported "VFR Flight not recommended." I told the briefer that I understood the conditions, and hung up.

I checked the latest 5 METARs for Shelton's airport (KSHN). The Visibility and Weather was good up until the past hour. "Must be a couple clouds going through," I thought, "We'll continue with the plan and pay close attention to the ASOS at KSHN." 

Brendan Korb, Frank Volino and I began our Vashion Departure from KBFI. The night was clear below 12000 with a few scattered clouds at 6000. I ascended to 2500 and trimmed the 172 for level flight. After showing Brendan and Frank Steep Turns, Stalls and Slow Flight over Hood Canal, we continued on our way to Ocean Shores. 

After passing Shelton, the ground went Dark. I began to think that we had entered a cloud and so I religiously checked the Sectional for my planned waypoints. Nothing for at least 31 miles. I began to get the feeling that every pilot hates: lost. "Alright, Brendan, I'm gonna show you how to use a VOR," I said to my co-pilot, "Put in this frequency in that radio right there." 

"Okay, now put in this frequency in the one underneath." "Okay." "Alright, now press the Nav 1 button up there, and listen." HIWAS with faint morse code in the background. I matched the morse code and identified the VOR. We repeated for the second VOR. "Center both the needles now." 320 on NAV 1 and 210 on NAV 2. 

We we're so much closer to Aberdeen than I thought we were. In fact, it was a cluster of lights off in the distance. Perfect! I flew the rest by pilotage as the moon lit the bay fairly. I descended to 1500 feet and made a radio call that we were going to over fly the airport at 1500 feet. 

Needless to say, we couldn't find the airport. I clicked the mic 5 times, in hopes that maybe some runway lights would come on. Nothing. I checked the Sectional with the Radio. Hmm. We were on the correct frequency. Why were there no lights? We could see the city, but where was the airport? 

Thinking in the interest of time, I diverted. This time, to Westport Airport (14S). I set up the radios, and hoped to find that the airport had some type of weather system. Nothing. Joy. I made the proper call on, coincidentally, the same frequency, and I entered the pattern and flew right traffic for runway 30. Set up to land and turned base, then final. 

As I descended for the runway, I picked up speed at an unusually high rate. "We were going to miss the runway," I thought. "Go Around," I said, bringing in the flaps. 

I tried again. Same thing. Unusually fast on Final. "Go around."

I decided to take a different approach. I made a call and announced that I was going to exit the pattern and reenter for a straight-in approach to runway 12. After turning the plane around, the air speed was just right. 

As we came up on the Runway at 65 KIAS, I was ready to make a perfect landing with headwind. All of a sudden, the runway had a ledge in front of it. I had never seen such a ledge before. Must have been at least 10 feet. I added power and we jumped into the air another 50 feet, coming back down quickly. Bounced. Alright. Not the best landing, but could have been a lot worse. 

We tied up the plane and walked into town which was closing down for the night. We found a restaurant and bar next to the marina and ordered some oysters. Delicious. 

After finishing our dessert of oysters, we were on our way back to the airport. But not without a little adventure. Brendan decided that we needed to take a short cut to the airport through some thick brush. Little did we know, it was actually a marsh. After stepping shin-deep into water, we were done with that shortcut.

With soggy feet, we headed home.

--

After getting home, I was putting the hours into my logbook. I couldn't remember the identifier for Westport's Airport, so I looked it up in the A/FD. Above it, Ocean Shores. Re-reading the entry for Ocean Shores Municipal to see if they turned the lights off I saw something I had originally overlooked. "MIRL (Medium Intensity Runway Lighting) for RWY 15-33 activate by 122.8." We were on the wrong frequency for the lighting! How stupid!

For now on, I will make sure I check and have the frequency for the runway lights for night flights. That was quite a stupid mistake that could have been avoided had I just read the entire entry.

KCKZ to KGAI 12/11

Fresh out of school with our newly attained Private Pilot's licenses, Phil and I were anxious to get to Maryland where we would have our first un-instructed flight together. Just Phil and I: Flying. We began our planning weeks ago, possibly as early as Halloween. No pilot could have planned the flight to and from Pennridge airport better than we did. But nothing could have prepared us for what we were to encounter on the night of the flight.

Phil and I finalized our plans to rent a Cessna 172S from Montgomery Aviation in Gaithersburg, MD on Friday evening, December 10. We both completed our check-out flight satisfactorily while demonstrating proficiency in Stalls, Slow Flight, Steep Turns, and Pattern Work. The first leg of the plan was set into stone on the schedule as a flight to Pennridge (KCKZ) from Gaithersburg (KGAI) departing at 2:30pm EST. While in Pennridge, we were to meet up with Phil's grandparents and enjoy the rest of the evening until our flight back to KGAI around 8pm.

The flight began as planned and we travelled at an altitude of 3500 feet from KGAI to KCKZ with no problems. As special clearance is needed to fly in and around the DC metro area, I manned the radios as Second In Command as Phil acted as Pilot In Command on the way to KCKZ.

All went well and entirely as planned. I had enough time to get our DC Special Flight Rules Area (SFRA) transponder code and frequency as well as enough time to figure out how to enter flight plans into the new G1000 glass cockpit that we were using. After becoming bored with the straight and level flying, I decided to call up Potomac Approach for Flight Following and Traffic Advisories. The skies were so clear and light of traffic that we remained on Flight Following for the entire hour long journey.

After landing at KCKZ and enjoying a Philly Cheesesteak, we were turned around and ready for our return trek.

After receiving a normal preflight briefing from Flight Service, I started the C172S and had begun my takeoff checklist as Pilot In Command. After executing a takeoff and climb-out, I climbed up to 4500 feet and set the trim for cruise. Phil called up Philadelphia Approach for Flight Following as I had done for him. The night was pretty clear and calm, the air was stable, it looked perfect.

About 5 minutes after being handed off to Harrisburg Approach, we encountered a cloud deck at 4000 feet. Naturally, I descended as Phil pulled up the METAR for the airport nearest us on the G1000: Ceiling was an OVC layer at 4100 feet. Phil called up Approach and let them know we were descending to 3500 to stay within VFR minimums. Approach responded that Altitude was our discretion and to "maintain VFR."

Phil began to pull up weather information on the G1000 trying to get information on adverse conditions. After a second handoff to Potomac Approach and clearing the Susquehanna river, the cloud deck came down to 2700. I descended again to stay within VFR minimums.

The Ceiling kept descending, and along with it, so did we. Eventually, we found ourselves at 2200 feet- a mere 1500 feet above ground. Knowing that we could only descend another 500 feet to stay legal, I had Phil call up Flight Watch to see if we could get inflight information about the weather around the SFRA. Phil tried numerous times, but Flight Watch couldn't be reached, as we were below 5000 feet.

Phil began to pull up the METAR for KGAI: OVC at 2400, calm winds. "That's legal and doable," I told Phil, over the headset, "But it's gonna be close."

"Sounds good," he said, knowing fully that he could take the controls from me at anytime he questioned my decisions. If he were to do that, there would be no hard feelings on my end. Phil took a breath and said, "Whatever you're comfortable with."

Visibility began to rapidly decrease. What was reported as 10SM of visibility, ended up being more realistically 3SM. We began to get more and more concerned with the weather, and so Phil pulled up the Prognostic chart. A mid-latitude cyclone to the South working its way to the Northeast. Fantastic.

I took a quick glance at the G1000 Prog chart, and decided to go for it. "Only 25 minutes of flight left," I told him.

Five minutes passed in what seemed like the worst visibility ever. We looked down, and there were the lights of our last checkpoint before KGAI: Carroll County Airport (KDMW).

"Call up Potomac Approach, let's get our SFRA Clearance," I told Phil, now sweating on the yoke.

Phil entered the Clearance Frequency for our gate, and began the call, "Potomac Approach, N1740C, just south of Carroll County, requesting to open our SFRA Clearance from WOOLY to KGAI."

"N1740C, Potomac Approach, Remain clear of Special Flight Rules Area and squawk 5337."

"Squawk 5337 and remain clear of SFRA, N1740C." I entered the code and pressed 'ident.'

As I looked up, we got the clearance: "40C, Potomac Approach, cleared to Gaithersburg from WOOLY, maintain VFR and remain on transponder code until landed."

"Cleared to Gaithersburg, Maintain VFR, will adhere to SFRA procedures, 40C."

I looked out, turned on the Landing and Taxi lighting and saw nothing but blackness. I made a split second decision: "Phil, call up Approach. We're diverting to Carroll."

"Alright, good plan, PIC," Phil said to me.

"Potomac Approach, N1740C, the weather looks dirt-poor up here. We're gonna divert to Carroll County and remain clear of the SFRA."

"Roger that, 40C, SFRA flight plan cancelled, frequency change approved, maintain VFR, let us know if you need any help."

I had Phil pull up the CTAF for KDMW and I made the proper calls: "Carroll County Traffic, N1740C is gonna be a straight in for runway 34, Carroll."

"Is that it?" I asked Phil.

"Oh, yeah, we're coming up on it quick." Phil said.

I executed a steep, right turn into the downwind and set up for landing. Phil began a second call, "Uh, Carroll Traffic, N1740C is on the downwind for runway 34." Then came base, then Final. And the landing was perfect.

We pulled off the runway, announced clear of the runway, and pulled up to the FBO, which was closing shop for the night.

A guy named Jeff came out to meet us and informed us that they were closing. We told him our diversion and the original plan and he decided to keep the FBO open for us.

Phil made a phone call to one of the flight instructors at Montgomery Aviation and we decided that we would keep the plane there over night. Phil and I were to get a ride home with Jeff while the flight instructor was to fly the plane back to Montgomery Aviation in the morning, for no extra charge.

--

Phil and I executed what is known as good Aeronautical Decision Making as was taught to us through Florida Tech and our Flight Instructors. Had we continued on our route, Phil and I may not be alive today. We owe it to our Flight Instructors and Professor Dunbar for their instruction on diversion. The most important lesson that I can share with others from this ordeal is: It's completely okay to divert. It's better to save a life than to save money on rental expenses.