Driftless | Part 7, Through the Mist

Instrument Fallacy

In training, I like to think that I had a realistic notion of what earning an instrument rating would allow me to do. I saw it as something that expanded my capability to manage weather and increased the likelihood that I would be able to fly where I wanted to when I wanted to. But I knew that it would not allow me to fly in any kind of conditions.

In conversation, I get the sense that some people view the instrument rating as some kind of magic armor rendering the pilot invulnerable. But this is obviously not the case. It does not confer the ability to fly in all weather, nor does it endow an aircraft with more capability than it actually possesses. Thunderstorms and icing are still to be avoided. Minimums (whether legislated or personal) still need to be followed. Weather briefings are still critical. In fact, I would argue that weather briefings are actually more critical for instrument rated pilots and that the decision making is sometimes more challenging. This is because flying in instrument weather conditions (IMC) puts us closer to the ragged edge. Whereas the rules around visual flight are reasonably well defined, the ability to fly in poor weather demands that pilots make risk-based decisions about the extent of terrible weather that they will tolerate.

For example, some pilots refuse to fly single engine airplanes in IMC. Period. This is obviously a risk that I accept. As we saw demonstrated over and over during the Covid-19 pandemic, people are wired with different ideas of what constitutes tolerable risk. On top of that, there are a multitude of interconnected risk factors to weigh in undertaking an instrument flight that include ceiling, visibility, convective weather (thunderstorms), icing potential, turbulence, wind (surface and aloft), terrain (mountains, water, population density), day versus night, route of flight, capability of the aircraft, and proficiency of the pilot. Some of these factors interact more deleteriously than others. Sometimes, individual factors are not concerning, but create an unacceptable risk when they stack up.

Our goal for August 8th was to fly home from Viroqua, WI. The original plan was to fly northeast around Lake Michigan for lunch on Mackinac Island. Nearly a decade passed since The Bear last visited the island and I thought that she would enjoy a return. But an extensive thunderstorm system was consistently forecast to block this path. 

The only other reasonable path available, because I refuse to fly Warrior 481 over the middle of Lake Michigan, was retracing our route around the south side of Chicago and Lake Michigan. There was a risk of thunderstorms there as well, but I expected a less extensive system that could be circumnavigated. I planned for a lunch stop at WACO Kitchen in Battle Creek, MI with further evaluation needed to determine if we could get home that day and, if so, whether the route over Canada would be safe or if we would be forced to fly south of Lake Erie.

While that summarizes the big picture for the day, a more immediate challenge was the 24 mile hop from Viroqua to La Crosse, where we would return our rental car, pack the airplane, and formally begin the flight home. That posed a challenge because the entire region was IFR with low ceilings and poor visibility.

Inside the Ping Pong Ball

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
08 Aug 2022	N21481	Y51 (Viroqua, WI) - LSE (La Crosse, WI)	0.5	2503.8

"Are you sure?" Kristy queried. We were sitting in the Dodge at Viroqua Municipal. A low ceiling was nearly palpable and the visibility highly dependent on which point of the compass one faced. A brisk wind from the northwest flung a light rain nearly sideways.

There were multiple risk factors in evidence.

"If I have to wait, I will," I promised. I stepped out into the light rain and waved as Kristy and The Bear departed for La Crosse in the minivan.

As the rain fell, I removed the pitot cover, cowl plugs, and soaked tie-down straps from the airplane. Handling the cover by myself in a wind is always a challenge because it converts readily into a sail. I uncoupled the downwind straps first, then the upwind set of straps, and pulled the cover forward in a way to minimize flapping against the airplane and its soft Plexiglas windows. During preflight, I was thankful that I chose to fuel-up in Minnesota the day before, one less thing to manage in the moment. The fuel was dry but the oil level was a little low. I added half a quart and, satisfied that the airplane was ready to fly, gratefully climbed into the dry cabin.

Viroqua Municipal's automated weather reporting system read off current conditions in the same voice as the system back at home. I determined that the 500 feet overcast was acceptable. Visibility was officially reported at an unappealing 1.5 miles, but that appeared to be the case only to the northwest with the important caveat that that was the direction I would be flying. In other directions, visibility was largely unlimited. Wind was in the low teens out of the northwest, gusting slightly. 

Filed flight plan from Viroqua, WI to La Crosse, WI.

Earlier that morning, I filed an IFR flight plan from Viroqua to La Crosse via PKRNA, the initial approach fix on the RNAV approach procedure to runway 36 that I expected La Crosse to be using. Because "PK" and "RNA" are both meaningful to me as initials (pharmacokinetics and ribonucleic acid, respectively), I mentally pronounced the fix by its initials rather than trying to turn it into a word. In fact, I couldn't conceive of a way to pronounce it as a word. How awkward.

Given the weather, Minneapolis Center's phone line was busy that morning. I was on hold for nearly 15 minutes as I sat idling in Warrior 481 while rain pelted the windshield. This was actually fortuitous because it gave the defroster time to clear my foggy breath from the windshield. When Minneapolis Center finally responded, I was cleared direct to La Crosse (rather than PKRNA) and released immediately. I hung up the phone, reprogrammed the navigator to skip PKRNA, and taxied onto runway 29 for departure. Now pointed in the direction of the worst visibility, the runway appeared to end just shy of a veil of airborne moisture.

At full throttle, Warrior 481 accelerated down the runway, raindrops becoming streaks along a windscreen that was still a little foggy around the edges. I rotated, broke ground, and established a positive rate of climb visually. Less than a minute later, I was in the clouds. I flipped the radio frequency over to Minneapolis Center and notified them that I was airborne and climbing through the gloom for 3,000 feet.

"Cherokee Four Eight One, good morning, are you direct to 'PAHKERNA' now?"

PAHKERNA! So that's how you pronounce it. It made perfect sense in hindsight.

"Negative, Four Eight One is direct La Crosse per my clearance," I responded.

"Cherokee Four Eight One, would you like to be direct PAHKERNA?"

"Affirmative! Four Eight One."

"Cherokee Four Eight One is cleared direct PAHKERNA. Expect the RNAV 36 approach at La Crosse."

By now, I had engaged HAL. Within three minutes of departing the ground at Viroqua, I was trimmed and level at 3,000 feet with cruise power set and navigating directly to PKRNA. Cruise flight would last exactly nine minutes before establishing on the approach procedure into La Crosse.

In a brief moment of relaxation, I peered beyond the Warrior's windows. I was streaking through clouds so dense that I could barely see my own wingtips, light rain audibly ticking on the windshield. There was nothing to see beyond the Plexiglas other than a dull grayish beige. This is a flight condition that my friend Colin aptly describes as being "inside the ping pong ball".

Prior to PKRNA, I was cleared for the approach procedure and I verified being cleared straight in rather than needing to fly the otherwise mandatory procedure turn (recalling lessons learned in the past). Once established inbound on the approach, I turned due north and descended for the 2500 foot glidepath intercept altitude at CIVMI, the final approach fix positioned roughly five miles south of the runway threshold.

In the descent, still fully engulfed by the clouds, I was aware that I was directly above and flying along the Mississippi River. I knew that I would eventually descend into the river valley with its surprisingly high cliffs on both sides. From within the ping pong ball, this was all far less apparent than it had been the prior evening.

Minneapolis Center bid me a good morning and handed me off to La Crosse Tower. I was promptly cleared to land and asked to report on cloud bases. On reaching the final approach fix, HAL smoothly cycled from an altitude hold at 2500 feet to capturing the 3.00° downward glide path. I added a notch of flaps and pulled the power back to a setting that would yield 90 knots and a 500 feet per minute descent. Warrior 481 pitched downward, hitting the expected airspeed and descent rate while tracking GPS-generated lateral and vertical guidance.

The first hint of breaking out was motion in my peripheral vision. Looking like old footage on black and white film, I had partial contact with the river when looking straight down from the pilot side window. Cloud bases must have been very uniform that morning because one moment I had zero forward visibility and the next, an 8700 foot long runway snapped into crisp existence directly ahead. It was not raining in La Crosse and visibility under the overcast was unlimited. I reported the bases to Tower as 1500 feet, roughly 900 feet above the surface. I used the "nope" button to disconnect HAL and hand flew the Warrior to a much smoother landing at La Crosse than the one I made a week earlier.

Foreflight ground track and altitude profile for flight from Viroqua, WI to La Crosse, WI. The time spent on the ground prior to take off corresponds to when I was on the phone with Minneapolis Center.

I spent nearly the same amount of time on the phone that morning retrieving my clearance from Minneapolis Center as needed to make the entire flight. That was a busy 20 minutes and I was grateful for the assistance provided by the Warrior's capable autopilot.

Decision Time

When I parked on the general aviation ramp next to the commercial terminal, The Bear was already waiting outside the gate with our luggage. National was not open yet and Kristy had put the car keys in a drop box. The fact that they beat me to La Crosse speaks to how long it took me to preflight the airplane in the rain and receive my clearance from Minneapolis Center.

Rather than load the Warrior immediately, I suggested that we go into the terminal and review the weather again. What I found was not promising. As expected, convective weather had already blown up all around Green Bay and the southern shore of Michigan's upper peninsula. Mackinac Island was most definitely a no-go. However, there was also an extensive line of thunderstorms extending on a line from central Iowa to Chicago that completely blocked the southern route around Lake Michigan.

Nope.

I decided that we would stay overnight in La Crosse and head home the following day when the forecast was more favorable. It might be tempting to ask why I even bothered with the hop from Viroqua to La Crosse that morning, but there was nowhere for us to stay near Viroqua now that our time in the rental house had lapsed. Being in La Crosse gave us far more options.

When the National staff arrived for work that morning, we extended the rental car another day and retrieved the keys. Kristy booked a hotel room for the night. I asked the pet sitter to check in on our twenty year old cat one more time. For an overnight stay, I decided to move the Warrior from the spartan general aviation ramp to the Colgan Air Services FBO on the other side of the field. Colgan had fuel for a top off (at, egad, $7.94/gal!) and tie downs available without any parking fees. It seemed like the best choice for the airplane, even if it would mean a small logistical challenge on departure with respect to returning the rental car to the west side of the airport and boarding the Warrior on the east side.

We could deal with that the next day.

Sweepstakes Preview

Despite the fact that Wisconsin boasted tropical temperatures over the previous few days, the windy overcast morning was solidly in the low 60s. I shivered in the wind waiting for Airport Operations to let me back on to the general aviation ramp. From there, it was a quick taxi to the other side of the field.

Once directed to parking by Colgan's line crew, I put the wet cover back on the airplane. At least that would dry it out rather than leaving it wadded up in a moist bundle for the entire flight back to New York.

Another airplane tied down in the same row caught my eye. Every year, the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association (AOPA) acquires an older aircraft for complete restoration with upgrades including a new engine, new paint, new interior, and modern avionics. These projects are always well done and the finished aircraft are highly desirable. AOPA conducts a random drawing among the membership each year to select a lucky pilot to take the sweepstakes airplane home.

Only a couple of weeks before, AOPA unveiled the 2023 sweeps aircraft, a Cessna 170 that was intended to receive bush wheels and a makeover into a capable aircraft for off-airport operations. The 170 was still in its as-received condition and its makeover had yet to begin.

Even without the "AOPA SWEEPS" decal on the tail, I would have recognized it immediately. When I signed the pilot register, I saw that AOPA Pilot editor Kollin Stagnito had arrived in the 170 a day earlier. Kollin and I were both clearly there to wait out the weather. I was delighted to have gotten a peek at the aircraft in its "before" state. Overall, it appeared to be in excellent condition, a good canvas upon which multiple specialists would work their art in the coming year.

A Portentous Repast

The staff at Colgan Air was very friendly and welcoming. They attended to my requested fuel top-off immediately and provided service with a smile. But I did feel out of step with the rest of the clientele. The lobby contained a number of white-shirted, epaulette-clad corporate pilot types and at least one very wealthy looking family whose members were apparently cover models for Beautiful People and Spoiled Equestriennes Magazine. I was the only one in the lobby attired in cargo shorts and a T-shirt with words on it.

I discretely walked around them to the door. This was not a challenge, I was beneath everyone's notice. Outside, I climbed into the familiar Dodge minivan and gave voice to my inner hobbit.

"Second breakfast, anyone?"

Within a few minutes, we were enjoying a second breakfast at a nearby Panera Bread. As we finished, Kristy and The Bear were researching things to do in La Crosse. They did not find much. I engaged in the usually-masochistic activity of second guessing my weather decision. The weather in upper Michigan was still atrocious. Unbelievably, the line of storms from Iowa to Chicago was breaking up. Weather was still present, but massive gaps now appeared in what was previously a solid line of convection. Observing this, I did a full weather briefing and came to the same conclusion.

Strategic Whiplash

"We could totally get to Michigan today." We would still need to carefully negotiate the weather near Chicago and the leg from Michigan to New York was very much in question for that afternoon. But we could at least get back into familiar territory and, if we had to stop due to weather, we would be more than halfway home.

This plan was embraced by everyone. Fortunately, we were still within the free cancellation period for the hotel room because Kristy had inadvertently booked it for the following night. That would have been an unpleasant surprise had we arrived to claim our room that day. We were also still within the time remaining on the original rental car reservation and could return the car without being charged for the extra day.

With breakfast finished and IFR flight plan to Battle Creek, MI filed, we made our way back to La Crosse Regional Airport. The weather was already lifting over the Mississippi River valley and the leaden gray overcast was yielding to hints of blue sky above. As Kristy and The Bear waited in the Dodge, I re-entered Colgan and held the door for the well-heeled family I had observed earlier. 

As I waited for them, the husband shouted to his wife, "Good luck, Becky!" I noticed for the first time that his collared shirt was embroidered with "Rebecca for Governor". (So I was not the only one with words on his shirt after all.) I was holding the door for Rebecca Kleefisch, former lieutenant governor under Scott Walker. She would be defeated in the Republican gubernatorial primary the following day.

Colgan Air provided the keys to a Chevy Cruze courtesy car and I followed my family in the Dodge back to the commercial terminal. We cancelled the extra day, turned in the keys, and returned to Colgan Air in the Cruze, making it the second time on the same vacation that we had used a courtesy car to hop from side of a commercial airport to the other.

The Colgan Air ramp at La Crosse Regional Airport.

Now nicely dry, I removed the cabin cover from the Warrior under a ceiling that was rapidly breaking up.

The 2023 AOPA Sweepstakes airplane preparing to launch from La Crosse, WI.

Kollin Stagnito was just a few minutes ahead of us in the Cessna 170, no doubt bound for one of the many companies that would work their magic on the AOPA sweeps airplane. I was disappointed that I did not have an opportunity to greet him.

Know When To Hold 'Em, Know When To Fold 'Em

By 12:30, Warrior 481's prop was turning on the Colgan ramp and we were ready to fly toward home, still fully cognizant that many more decisions were coming. The day had become a study in where to draw the line, from the low weather flight from Viroqua to La Crosse that morning, to picking our way through weather en route to Battle Creek, to deciding where to go from there. I am grateful for the ability to go places in weather conditions that would prohibit VFR flight and recognize that it is a privilege best not abused. That morning's run through the clouds was right on the edge of my comfort zone, but I was willing to do it with careful thought. I was unwilling to penetrate a line of storms to get home, however. Now that significant gaps had opened in the weather, the risk equation had changed and it was worth a second look.

As Kenny Rogers sang, "You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away and know when to run." I bet he would have made a decent instrument pilot.