The distinct
connection between weather, groundspeed, and mood
By Dick Karl
Robust thunderstorms
shouldered their way across the northeast on Saturday, delaying hundreds
of pilots en route to Oshkosh. One friend of mine took off from Rhode
Island, thought better of it, turned around, and hopped an airliner to
Midway and drove up. Another was still on his way in his Husky two days
after his intended arrival. I set out from Lebanon, New Hampshire, in
our Cheyenne on Sunday morning. The sky was overcast, but all the
significant weather had moved east. At 7,000 feet, I swam out of the
clouds, that liberating feeling of breaking out on top. The sun and the
prospects of EAA AirVenture Oshkosh warmed me into a contemplative
reverie. I’ve made this trip for this reason many times before, and
the annual milestone makes for an enjoyable time to take stock.
How can it be that
something I’d never experienced until a year ago is now something I
can’t live without? In 35 years of IFR flight I got around just fine
without data-linked weather, yet there I was, sitting at flight level
200, absolutely sunk without it. The yellow "activation" sign
on the Avidyne Flight Max EX500 mocked my hopes and diminished my sense
of well-being.
I can’t say enough
about the EX500; it is just a spectacular device. I have come to love
the XM Weather when I have it. It allows for planning hundreds of miles
in advance. It is reassuring in so many ways. I can track NEXRAD radar,
keep an eye on the destination weather, and I can overlay onboard radar
when those areas of thunderstorms are up close and personal. But I’ve
been plagued by the activation thing.
On this trip there was
weather visible ahead, but without the NEXRAD I was at a loss as to
deviate north or south. Montreal control advised deviation to the north
whenever possible around Toronto, but with the winds out of the
southwest at 50-plus knots, that meant I’d be under the thunderstorm’s
anvil. This fact plus those hefty head winds were starting to encroach
on the gestalt of a perfectly good day full of promise. I had some
friends to see and some dinners to enjoy.
Things soon picked up,
though, and I thought about the profound connection between weather,
groundspeed, and mood. I started out doing less than 200 knots over the
ground, floating above a coverlet of cloud, but by the time I got to
Lake Ontario, the undercast had parted. It was a beautiful summer day.
Then, the groundspeed increased to 220 knots, just as DUATS projected.
My sense of satisfaction closely tracked the improving weather and
speed. The weather near Toronto was easily circumnavigated by sight,
though the thunderstorms had shut down Toronto approach. I decided to
let the XM thing go. Why spoil a good flight over something that I didn’t
even have 18 months ago? Besides, I was captivated by the slightly
different and more formal phrases of the Canadian controllers. "You’re
identified at 200," they’d say.
I listened with
appreciation as Toronto approach worked with crews that had been in
holding patterns long enough to bump up against their fuel reserves.
Just as an Air Canada flight declared he had to divert to Hamilton, the
controller said, "Hang on one second. Yep, your hold is canceled,
and you are now cleared direct to the airport." "Thanks very
much," came the obviously grateful reply.
Next up was clear air
over Lake Huron and then more thunderstorms over Michigan. As I
approached the weather I overlaid the onboard radar over the moving map—just
like the "old" days. Minneapolis center couldn’t have been
nicer with the advice that there were several areas of weather along my
route and that other airplanes had deviated. But as I got closer I could
see the rain clearly on the radar, and I could see that the tops were,
in most places, well below me. By Traverse City, it was clear again.
This annual pilgrimage by
us all marks another year. For me it has been a year of satisfactions
and enjoyment. No, I can’t afford a jet and these fuel prices make the
Cheyenne a challenge financially, but seen from the perspective of
20,000 feet on the way to Wisconsin, life is awfully sweet. My thoughts
turned to the pleasures waiting for me on the ground.
I’ll see the Mustang,
my lost love. The new concepts by Cessna, the latest about the Eclipse.
The avionics are all there, waiting. If Garmin is putting the G1000 into
King Airs, can the Cheyenne be next? Hey, I can go by the XM Weather
booth and get this activation thing sorted out. That’s the thing about
Oshkosh. It is impossible to harbor dark thoughts in the presence of so
many great people and the machines that bring them together.
