Adventure Is Where You Find It

Sunken

   

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
04 Jul 2021	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) - OLE (Olean, NY) - SDC	2.4	2280.7

Swells of green hilltops broke the surface of the fog, forming islands in a vapor sea whose lush vegetation contrasted against the surrounding bleached medium. Spread beneath a striking blue sky, the scene was absolutely beautiful. But frustration accompanied that breathtaking vista because our destination lay below the mist.

Always Have an Out

Even non-critical flying missions like breakfast runs require solid planning and backup strategies. This is one of the reasons why aviation is always so engaging to me. Plan A for early morning on the 4th of July involved flying with several other Williamson Flying Club members to the ADK CAVU Café in the Adirondacks. A forecast for low clouds in eastern New York, spanning from the Adirondacks in the north to metropolitan New York City necessitated a Plan B. Given this forecast, favorites like Sky Acres in southeast New York made for poor alternates. Looking to the southwest where the better forecasts lived, The West Wind was still not serving breakfast due to the labor shortage. But Katy's Fly-In Restaurant adjacent to Great Valley Airport (N56) was also to the southwest and open for breakfast on the holiday. The only trick was that Great Valley is grass-only and it would be Tom's first time landing on grass. He was fine with that, so Great Valley became Plan B.

That morning, we decided that the Adirondack weather matched the forecast a little too well and activated Plan B. We launched in three airplanes and turned southwest to Great Valley.

The sky was glorious. Under a beautiful dome of crisp cerulean blue, the air was still and absent rogue zephyrs. Warrior 481 glided through a smooth, benevolent atmosphere. A low cloud deck developed over Rochester, NY, but did not interfere with the flight in any way and simply added a unique aesthetic to the view below. 

From above, the clouds were strikingly beautiful, especially because they were not in the way of anything. (Foreshadowing.)

Southern Tier 

The Olean airport photographed above valley fog on September 11, 2010

Great Valley is in New York's so-called Southern Tier region, a hilly expanse of terrain paralleling the Pennsylvania border. Past experience has demonstrated that the valleys of the Southern Tier often collect ground fog on cool mornings. And we were bound for Great Valley, a place with geological credibility to live up to its name. Perhaps there should have been a proactive Plan C. Because Great Valley has no weather reporting, we would not know if landing was possible until we arrived. We continued on at risk.

Ed and Brad arrived first over the site in Ed's Archer. As I feared, there would be no landing at Great Valley due to fog and a quick air-to-air contingency planning session took place.

Consistent with past experience, the Cattaraugus County-Olean Airport in Olean reported clear from its hilltop perch. However, there was no facility on the field to accommodate a group of hungry pilots. I suggested that we investigate Bradford, PA, where there was a restaurant on the field, though it was known to have erratic hours. Moments later, Tom chimed in from Two Six Romeo that the diner in Bradford was not open that morning. We agreed to divert to Olean and reconvene on the ground.

Island Harbor

I was surprised at the amount of chatter on Olean's UNICOM frequency. In addition to our three aircraft, three others were making their way to the field at the same time. But we sorted ourselves out with Warrior 481 being the last to land. Olean was kind of busy that morning. For Olean.

The vaguely cruciform outline of the Olean Airport was draped proudly across a hilltop well above the fog.

On short final, the runway seemed to dead end into a sea of low clouds.

"Welcome To the Jungle"

As I clambered out of the Warrior, Tom emerged from the FBO.

"They've offered us a car to go into town."

A car, you say? My eyes narrowed in suspicion. What kind of car? While I have never been stranded by an airport courtesy car, you never quite know what you're going to get.

Where would we go? Out came the smart phones. Clinging to tenuous cellular data sgnal, we digitally trolled Google for suitable local diners. We called a few that were well-regarded, but all were closed for the holiday. With a true sense of adventure, the five of us decided to try our luck in town anyway.

This is how we found ourselves in a former police cruiser -- a very well-traveled Ford Explorer -- zipping downhill off the airport plateau into the foggy low country, jamming to "Welcome To the Jungle", and recklessly ignoring TPMS annunciations.

A close friend of mine is from Olean and, instead of helping Tom navigate to the center of town like I was supposed to, I sent her a message describing where we were.

"Why Olean?" came the response. I interpreted her tone to be a mixture of shock and puzzlement.

"Would you believe as a tribute to you?"

"Hardly," she answered.

Our quest was not in vain. We located an available and fully functional Perkins. Didn't all of those close? Evidently not, unless we passed through a time warp while careening down the hillside through fog.

In capturing a moment with our loaner vehicle, Brad and Ed played it straight. Tom and Alicia hammed it up like they were on a promotional poster for yet another cancelled cop drama littering television wasteland.

Due to a "clerical error", double muffins were delivered to our table. While my breakfast was mediocre, my blueberry muffin was delicious. The extra muffins went home in FAA-approved aviation doggie bags. Breakfast discussion covered a lot of ground, but primarily focused on the insanity of how some people portray themselves on dating apps. At times, the dramatic readings paused for the reader to collect themselves.

We had a great time at Perkins.

TLC

As good stewards of our courtesy car, we topped off the fuel tank, added air to the tires to silence the TPMS warnings, and cleaned the windshield. Clearly, we are full service pilots.

"Hello good chap! Care to top off the tank with a bit of petrol while you're at it?"

On the twelve mile drive back to the airport, we played everyone's favorite radio game, "Evangelist or Rock Star?" We were closely divided, but when the "preacher" broke into a live rendition of "10th Avenue Freeze-Out", we had our answer.

As we prepared to depart, Brad made it very clear that he was super excited about being in Olean. In fact, the general consensus was that our unanticipated errand into Olean was a lot of fun. There is something to be said for successfully managing the unexpected, a skill required of all pilots. There is little doubt in my mind that the excursion would have been less fun if everything had gone mundanely to plan.

As I scanned Warrior 481's panel during the run-up, I noted a density altitude of 3800 feet. While most of that was due to Olean's 2135 foot elevation, it was a good reminder that take-off performance would not be what I usually get at Sodus. 

"Plato? Artistotle? Socrates? Morons."

For the flight home, there were more decisions to be made with respect to clouds. Specifically, whether to go above or below the deck that had formed and likely extended to Sodus. Ed and I went high while Tom went low. Sodus was advertising a marginal VFR ceiling, but Ed and I were counting on the fact that Lake Ontario is usually clear of clouds and would allow a path back down. Barring that, I had the back pocket advantage of an instrument rating and Rochester's general willingness to grant pop-up clearances.

Like the outbound flight, the return flight was the kind that bolsters an aviator's soul. Beautiful and smooth and the airplane slipped effortlessly through the sky.

Then the idiocy on Guard began.

As is often the case due to distance limitations, I only overheard one side of the conversation. Unfortunately, it was the moron side. A Delta pilot too far away for me to hear had obviously chastised the low altitude rabble for mewling on the emergency frequency.

Idiot #1: "Well, Delta, you're on Guard, too!"

(Pause)

Idiot #2: "Oh yeah, Delta? You get off frequency."

(Pause)

Idiot #3: "Hey, Delta, do you screw your wife while wearing the hat?"

Egad.

I am not perfect. I sometimes key the push-to-talk button and forget how to use my words. But I usually strive for professionalism. I already suspect that many commercial pilots think of private pilots as uncivilized yahoos. The fact that any of us would so willingly serve up such confirmatory information is maddening to me.

Way Out

True to expectation, the clouds opened up above the lake and I flew an arcing descent over the water to enter the pattern at Sodus on a 45-degree leg to the downwind.

Back on the ground, I reconvened with Ed, Brad, Tom, and Alicia where we confirmed a consensus of a fun morning. 

Sometimes, the best adventures are the unplanned ones, especially when good friends are involved.