Schrodinger's Weather

Superposition of Reality

Tap-tap...tap-tap...tap-tap...tap-tap...

I cracked an eyelid just enough to peer blurrily at my watch while clicking an orange blob on its face representing a snooze button. I had awakened on a Friday morning at the end of a long and difficult week.

Technically, it was a vacation day. I reserved it for automotive maintenance that I managed to accomplish earlier than planned. I kept the vacation day scheduled because long range forecasts suggested a beautiful flying day and the Warrior had just successfully emerged from annual inspection. But I also had work to do and the last forecast I saw before going to bed was not inspiring. My plan: if the weather was as crummy as forecast, I would just go to work. If the weather was somehow better than forecast, I would fly in the morning and attend to my work in the afternoon.

With eyes closed and still on the edge of sleep, I considered how either good or dismal weather conditions might exist outside at that very moment. Until I actually checked the weather, both possibilities practically coexisted. It was like the absurd "Schrodinger's Cat" thought experiment invented to critique a quirk of quantum mechanics whereby two opposite states can mathematically coexist until observation reduces the system to one state or the other. In his hypothetical, a cat is trapped in a box containing a sealed vial of poison that will be broken open upon a random atomic decay event. Quantum mechanics holds that the cat is simultaneously alive and dead -- because both states are equally probable -- until an observer opens the box and collapses the probability function to a single reality. In this story, the imaginary cat is not a point of view character. At least Pavlov's dog ate better. 

That tapping at my wrist resumed within a few minutes and I reached for an iPad to check weather. Scattered clouds, plenty of sun, and light wind prevailed outside, conditions far superior to the previous night's forecast. In this case, the cat survived; going flying was literally a no-brainer.

Accretion Remnants

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
28 Feb 2025	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) - SDC	2.4	2960.3

Within moments of climbing over scattered clouds drifting above the Williamson Sodus Airport, I was gratified by my choice. After a blur of grey days in early 2025, direct sunlight, a crisp blue sky, and a smoothly running airplane engine were powerful antidotes to our first "real" winter in years. Over the clouds at 5,500 feet, I flew eastbound by hand along Lake Ontario through blissfully calm air.

It had been a cold winter. When The Bear and I were aloft a month prior, we noticed that ice coverage on Lake Ontario was significant. After a week of warm temperatures, that was no longer the case. Instead, the remaining ice had accumulated on the downwind end of the great lake. Resembling a French curve template that might be found on a draftsman's table, the ice formed a massive lobe sinuously projecting into Lake Ontario from its eastern shore.

Over North Sandy Pond near Sandy Creek, NY.

A dirty brown accretion of broken ice floes marked the true Lake Ontario shoreline.

Accumulated ice seemed painted on the lake's surface by hand, exhibiting a naturally occurring variance of color and texture atop the frigid water.

The lake's surface resembled the atmospheric formations of an outer solar system gas giant rendered in cold shades of white and blue, a terrestrial version of Neptune only visible to aviators.

Open water remained at the outflow of North Sandy Pond to Lake Ontario, implying flow.

I continued north toward the frozen opening to Henderson Bay.

Over a frozen Henderson Bay.

The distinctive, bifurcated Stony Island near the mouth of Henderson Bay.

This is one of the reasons that I love where I live. While winter comes with inconveniences, I am not especially bothered by the cold and I get to see the landscape thoroughly transformed from its warmer season state. Each winter's formations are unique and I love surveying them from the air.

Complex ice formations in Henderson Bay.

Seaway Impasse

Reaching the Saint Lawrence Seaway, I found that it too was choked with ice. I followed the frozen river northeast to explore the Thousand Islands.

Clayton, NY.

Washington Island, part of Clayton, NY.

Watch Island.

Rock Island and the Rock Island Lighthouse.

The Thousand Islands Bridge carries I-81 toward Canada.

Nearing Alexandria Bay, I reached a pair of famous islands. The first was Hub Island (lower left corner of frame). Also known as Just Enough Room Island, it is the smallest inhabited island in the Thousand Islands with "just enough" land to support the footprint of a small house. The other was Heart Island (upper right of frame), home to the magnificent Boldt Castle that we have visited previously.

Even lacking the deciduous foliage that softens the island's features in summer, the main house is nonetheless fanciful and spectacular.

Boldt Castle's powerhouse on the eastern tip of Heart Island.

Boldt Castle on Heart Island, Alexandria Bay, NY.

Wider angle shot of Heart Island looking west-southwest along the St Lawrence.

Against the Wind

On the Lake Ontario shoreline north of North Sandy Pond.

After circling Boldt Castle, I turned back toward home, swapping a tailwind for a headwind. I was in no hurry.

North Sandy Pond.

Lake Ontario shoreline under ice.

North Sandy Pond outlet into Lake Ontario.

Little Sodus Bay near Fair Haven, NY.

Broken ice near Fair Haven, NY.

East Bay on the south shore of Lake Ontario.

Coda

Sunshine, blue sky, and a well-running airplane made for a wonderful day to go aloft and take pictures.  I rewarded myself by managing the type of landing at the Williamson Sodus Airport that I always strive to achieve. In a word, it was all just perfect. And simple. Experiences do not need to be big adventures to soothe the soul. I ended the flight grateful that I made the time to fly.

Groundhog Day at Alton Bay

Tell Phil That I'm Not Interested

For over a century, February 2 -- otherwise known as Groundhog Day -- revolved around the supposed meteorologically oracular talents of a corpulent rodent in the Keystone State. But since 1993 and the debut of the Bill Murray film of the same name, Groundhog Day has come to represent the ultimate do-over and a chance to make things right. (I prefer this positive interpretation over that of "mindless repetition" also sometimes attributed to Groundhog Day.)

Over the last three years, The Bear has expressed great interest in visiting Alton Bay, the only FAA-authorized ice runway in the continental United States. While her passion for aviation is a fraction of mine, she happily seeks out novel flying experiences: her first flight through the clouds, her first landing on grass, her first seaplane landing, or her first flight around Manhattan. I am more than happy to indulge this interest and Alton Bay most certainly ticks the novelty box. Unfortunately, opportunities to get there often come down to the whimsy of weather.

In 2022, Alton Bay did not open the Saturday morning that we anticipated. But it was an excellent flying day, so I took wing with a group of WFC pilots for sushi in Massachusetts instead (Westfield-Barnes Airport, KBAF). Less interested in sushi than landing on a frozen bay, The Bear chose to stay home. While eating our lunch in Massachusetts, Alton Bay opened and our group made the short hop to the ice. The Bear was furious that she missed out. A very brief 2022 season for the ice runway eliminated opportunities to return that year. In 2023 and 2024, ice formation during the warm winter was so anemic that Alton Bay did not open at all. When I organized the 2025 Williamson Flying Club trip the previous week, it was on a Saturday when The Bear could not participate. In compensation, I pledged that I would actively seek out another opportunity to take her.

Groundhog Day

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
02 Feb 2025	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) - B18 (Alton Bay, NH) - SDC	5.4	2957.9

So it was that on Groundhog Day 2025, I found myself back at the controls of Warrior 481 bound for the Alton Bay Ice Runway on the same course and altitude as eight days earlier. Weather conditions were different this time around, but the critical difference was that The Bear was flying right seat with me. I needed far fewer tries to make things right than Bill Murray required back in 1993.

The Bear and me flying to Alton Bay!

"Wakey-Wakey, Eggs and Bakey"

It almost did not happen. 

Alton Bay was closed during the previous week due to a snowstorm and the crew only managed to clear the runway the day before. A NOTAM closing Alton Bay was still active until 7:00 am that morning. Additionally, a promising forecast nonetheless held some risk. I awoke that morning at 5:00 am and checked weather, squinting at ForeFlight on my phone in the dark. I concluded that the risk of being shut out of Sodus by snow on the return flight was too great. I woke The Bear, told her that we would not go that day, and encouraged her to sleep in. I took my own advice and slept until 7:00 am. 

However, while we snoozed, a new TAF (terminal aerodrome forecast) issued for Rochester that pushed the weather out a few hours. As expected, the NOTAM closing the ice runway did expire and no new notification replaced it. In a fit of strategic whiplash, I woke The Bear for the second time that morning and told her that we could still make it if she could be ready to go in 20 minutes. She agreed enthusiastically (impressive for a sleepy teenager) with the stipulation that I make breakfast while she got ready. We had a deal.

At the airport, there was ice and snow to remove from in front of the hangar door, fuel to add to the Warrior now resting on three fully inflated tires (the left main had a new tube), and then there was the moment when I slipped on ice while pulling the airplane from the hangar and landed flat on my back. Somehow, I avoided knocking the wind out of myself or hitting my head on the slick pavement. My abs absolutely ached the next day and I suspect that I reflexively, abruptly curled up while falling and that probably saved my head.

To put it mildly, we had some delays in getting under way. 

We departed Sodus at 8:30 am, an hour and a half later than our original plan. Fortunately, the extra time granted by the revised forecast amounted to three hours such that our new window of opportunity was still wider than I originally assessed despite the delay.

Camera at the Ready

We passed from Syracuse, through multiple sectors of Boston Center, and ultimately to Boston Approach once within the boundaries of New Hampshire. Same course, same altitude, same frequency handoffs as the week prior.

Photo by The Bear.

Weather conditions on Groundhog Day were better than the week prior, characterized by a high ceiling and no thin screen of clouds hiding the ground from view. Despite sameness in many dimensions, the flight was nonetheless a completely different experience due to the welcome presence of my daughter.

Photo by The Bear.

The Bear peered downward past the wing and studied the newsprint winter vista laid out below, her camera held at the ready. "I haven't flown in winter for a long time," she stated. It rang true, though I did not remember how long it had been.

Photo by The Bear.

"What do you think this is?" she asked, turning her camera around so that I could see the displayed raw image.

"Landfill," I suggested, knowing that the answer would disappoint her.

Photo by The Bear.

She was particularly proud of capturing this singular tree, its shadow crown starkly visible against the snow like a reflection. The Bear is developing a really good eye for photography.

Photo by The Bear.

Foothills of the Adirondack Mountains.

Lake George in Upstate NY.

Sixth Landing at Alton Bay

Mountains near Alton Bay with Lake Winnipesaukee just behind them.

Just like a week prior, I navigated the terrain northwest of Alton Bay to enter the pattern on a 45-degree angle. Radio chatter was continuous and I worried for a moment that parking would be full.

"There it is!" I pointed to the ice runway as we cleared terrain hiding it. At first glance, the parking area appeared quite full and my heart momentarily sank. Still, landing aircraft were not being turned away.

Photo by The Bear.

A closer look showed that there were indeed spaces available. The Bear wielded her trusty Nikon like a pro and captured our approach and landing.

Photo by The Bear.

On my first visit to Alton Bay in 2015, the runway and parking areas were not nearly so crisply defined as what we saw through our windscreen. Back then, the runway showed some curvature and the parking area was oddly trapezoidal. In 2025, the entire Alton Bay Ice Runway facility looked as though it had been laid out on a draftsman's table.

Photo by The Bear.

As we crossed over the parking area, I made a perfunctory radio call. "Alton Bay traffic, Cherokee Four Eight One, short final, 1, Alton Bay."

The pilot of a Cessna Skylane still on the runway responded plaintively. "I am clearing as fast as I can." I realized in the moment that he must have mistaken my position report as a prompt to hurry up.

"No worries, we have plenty of room," I responded in as assuring a tone as possible.

Photo by The Bear.

The Skylane was on the verge of clearing the runway as we prepared to touch down on the surface of the frozen lake.

Moments before touch down. Photo by The Bear.

I am happy to report that it was another soft landing on the ice. Nobody wants to be responsible for breaking the ice runway.

Photo by The Bear.

As we coasted to taxi speed on the runway, we passed the Skylane taxiing in for the ramp on the parallel taxiway.

Photo by The Bear.

An orange "bob house" caught The Bear's eye. Growing up in Michigan, I would have called this an "ice fishing shanty" or just a "shanty". I still distinctly remember being roughly five years old when a shanty on our lake caught fire and how the charred enclosure spent the remainder of the season half submerged and trapped in the ice.

Photo by The Bear.

An RV that was behind us in the pattern touched down as we taxied toward the parking area.

Photo by The Bear.

Alton Bay's floating bandstand is the only permanent, year-round feature on the surface of Alton Bay. We were directed to parking about halfway down the west side of the parking apron and a volunteer helped The Bear and I reposition the Warrior properly in a parking spot.

Mission Accomplished!

It is no small task getting to Alton Bay from Sodus, but we managed it. For me, it was my first time visiting the ice runway twice in the same season. As I reflected on the weather uncertainty, the early wake up, the fall on the ice that morning, and the long ride, I wondered if the experience had been worth it for The Bear.

"Are you glad you came?" I asked her.

"Definitely!" she answered.

We met another volunteer at the red "swag tent" who offered me another ice chip. I mentioned that I already had one from the previous week and she asked, "Did you do the landing both times?" When I answered in the affirmative she handed me with the chip. I passed it on to The Bear as a souvenir of her first landing on the ice. The volunteer also presented me with a certificate and, because I did not get one a week earlier, she amended it to include both dates of landing. 

"Oh, you were here on the 25th!" she noted. "That was our second day open this year and we set a record that day." (164 airplanes.) I later learned that 70 airplanes landed on the frozen bay the day The Bear and I were there.

I also offered to buy The Bear a hat. She chose a blue one, just like mine.

Good Timing

We exited to the shore at 11:00 am as Shibley's at the Pier was opening for the day. It was perfect timing and we were among the first seated for lunch.

As we enjoyed our lunch, we sat on the same side of the table so that we could watch the comings and goings of aircraft to Alton Bay through the windows. At one point, we were watching an RV on final approach when a green and white Citabria swooped into view from above the restaurant in a steep, descending turn and appeared to cut off the RV. A gasp went through the restaurant as the Citabria seemed about to collide with the RV and the two aircraft landed quite close to each other in the same part of the runway. Was this a planned maneuver between the pilots? Was it "air rage" or recklessness? I have no idea. As the aircraft taxied in to parking, I envisioned a fist fight breaking out once the pilots emerged from their respective rides, but do not actually know what happened.

The Bear very predictably ordered a hot chocolate with whipped cream as part of her lunch. It, and our sandwiches were excellent. Taking a long standing behavioral cue from Kristy, The Bear asked for a box for her leftovers, then forgot it when we left.

Airplane Spotting

A Bonanza taxies to the parking area.

A Super Decathlon and Warrior 481.

A Citabria and Maule on amphibious floats.

The owner of the amphibious Maule (seen in the background getting a picture of his bird on the ice) commented that he was the only one there who could claim to have landed in the same spot on Alton Bay in both the winter and summer. He certainly had a point. Such a cool airplane!

Alton Bay's floating bandstand about 100 feet south of the runway threshold.

A 1956 Cessna 182.

"That is a Super Viking," I said to The Bear as the vintage Bellanca taxied past. "Its wings are entirely made of wood and it's fast."

"Wood?" responded The Bear with the kind of doubt that only a teenager can summon.

The Viking launched from the ice as an Alton Bay volunteer -- I think it was Paul -- watched.

The Bear was utterly fascinated by the surface. While I grew up walking across frozen lakes in the winter, being on the ice was a unique experience for The Bear.

"Hey, that was going to be my shot!" she complained as I took this picture.

"Mark found the cracks disconcerting last week," I responded, completely dodging her accusation.

"Yeah, actually, I wasn't going to say anything, but..." The Bear trailed off meaningfully.

A 1993 Cessna 205.

Photo by The Bear.

Shortly after noon, we decided to head home. I still had concerns about wind and weather back in Sodus and, once The Bear had her fill of the Alton Bay experience, I saw no reason to dawdle.

An Encounter with Polecat 2

Photo by The Bear.

We launched from Alton Bay at 12:17 pm, climbing northward over the vast icefield that was Lake Winnipesaukee.

Blurry shot of a labyrinth in the Path of Life Garden, Windsor, VT.

Famous ski resort in Killington, VT.

As we crossed back into New York, our Boston Center controller was also working "Polecat 2". With a callsign like that, I assumed that Polecat 2 must be military and this was confirmed for me when the other pilot indicated his destination was the CHUGS MOA (military operations area) that we had just passed beneath.

A very tiny Polecat 2 zipping by. Photo by The Bear.

Then Boston Center turned his attention to us. "Cherokee Four Eight One, traffic, 11:00, one thousand feet below, F-15." A target moved across my traffic display at 450 knots (518 miles per hour).

"I see it!" called out The Bear, pointing toward an Adirondack ridge ahead where a small, fast-moving dot zipped across our path. Good eye! We do not encounter in-flight fighter planes often in our travels, let alone pick them up visually. Based on the Polecat callsign, I believe that this F-15 was based at the Westfield-Barnes Air National Guard facility that we frequent for sushi.(F-15s and sushi...now that is a combination.)

Photo by The Bear.

"Any Way the Wind Blows..."

An approaching cold front from the west was forecast to bring wind, turbulence, and snow with it that afternoon. While the snow was delayed until after our return home, we encountered occasional, moderate turbulence and a powerful headwind once we passed Syracuse. I slowed the Warrior down to better manage the turbulence and this, combined with the headwind, dropped our ground speed as low as 73 knots. The last thirty minutes of the ride home were a slog.

Ice on Sodus Bay. Photo by The Bear.

Forecasts indicated that the wind at Sodus would be out of the southeast at ten knots gusting to the mid-teens. Despite the fact that the runway was a solid sheet of ice, I decided that morning that the wind would be manageable. As we bumped along near Syracuse against a westerly wind, uplinked weather claimed that the wind at Sodus was actually out of the north-northeast at ten knots gusting nearly to 20 knots. But this was not the case by the time we landed.

In the descent, wind direction rotated counterclockwise until it became a direct southerly crosswind. We settled to the ice covered runway in a significant side slip right at the edge of available rudder authority, touching down on and holding centerline (what little I could see of it) while bleeding off the excess speed I carried during landing to ensure control authority. Braking was less effective there than at Alton Bay and, with full aileron into the wind and backpressure on the controls, we coasted to walking speed in the final tenth of the runway. For anyone who ever wondered if landing on the Alton Bay Ice Runway is difficult, it had nothing on the landing at Sodus that afternoon. But we had a good outcome and I was pleased with my performance.

Transitional

As an aviator, I am always thrilled by the prospect of landing on the ice of Alton Bay and experiencing a surface seasonally transformed. But for me, today's flight was less about the ice and more about The Bear. I delighted in her enthusiasm about experiencing the ice runway, about her keen scrutiny of the landscape passing beneath our wings en route, and by her enthusiastic sharing of raw images just captured with her camera as we sat side by side in the Warrior. Most of all, I enjoyed sharing the adventure with her.

Much like the seasonal ice runway, this phase of our lives will soon transition to something new and different. College acceptances are already rolling in and high school graduation is just four months away. I am very excited for her in this coming phase. After all, I regard college as where I became who I truly am. All of the places she applied are wonderfully well suited to her and I came away from every visit saying, "I wish that I could go here!" I genuinely look forward to seeing her come into her own in the coming years. But I know that I will also miss having her at home. The way I see it, the fact that she enthusiastically devoted an entire day for an adventure with her Dad is a true gift.