Back to the Bricks | Part 1, Modernization

Homeward Bound

During the fall of 2025, I began a dialog with Jess, a Professor of Chemistry at the University of Michigan-Flint, my alma mater set at the intersection of the Flint River and the red brick thoroughfare of Saginaw Street. She extended an invitation to visit campus and speak with students about careers in chemistry. It would mark my first return visit since 2015 when I participated in a curriculum advisory committee ("Nature's Power Washer"). Later that fall, I met with faculty again when I returned with Kristy to experience our first University of Michigan football game in The Big House ("Somewhere Over the Rainbow"). For my talk with students, Jess and I agreed on the second week of April and shelved our discussion until 2026.

Though grudgingly, winter finally deferred to spring and I expected good enough weather to fly myself to Flint for the visit. However, it was clear by early 2026 that I would not make that flight to Michigan in the same manner as over the last twenty years and that there were two barriers, surmountable ones, standing in the way.

The Future Is Bright and It Comes with a Touch Screen

I trained for my instrument rating in Warrior 481 behind a trusty Garmin GNS 430W navigator, a capable piece of equipment that I came to understand so well that I taught my instrument examiner something new about its operation during my test. The 430 displays its 1990s roots overtly with a minimally colored moving map display featuring Nintendo Game Boy quality graphics. Still, for a 1970s airplane, installation of the 430W was a massive modernization. At the time I installed it, my friend Garrett flew freight for an outfit based at Oakland County International Airport. “I would give anything for the capability of a 430,” he exclaimed at the time, then regaled me with tales of flying dodgy NDB approaches into other parts of the world.

However, as time went by, the noble 430W accumulated disadvantages versus current technology. Those included diminishing trade-in value, increasing scarcity of components for repairs, and simply being more cumbersome to use than modern navigators. Specifically, 430W users risk repetitive stress injuries from knob twisting during IFR reroutes. (Kidding. Sort of.) For 2026, I decided to futureproof my IFR flying while taking advantage of the 430W's residual monetary value and traded it in for a Garmin GTN 650 Xi. Like the 430W, the 650 integrates radio communications, a VHF navigation receiver, and a moving map GPS into a single box, but does all of this behind a colorful high resolution display doubling as a touch screen interface with a virtual QWERTY keyboard available for data entry.

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
15 Mar 2026	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) - GVQ (Batavia, NY)	0.6	3116.0

I ferried Warrior 481 to the Genesee County Airport (GVQ) on March 15, hitching a ride home with Gilead in Archer Eight Five X-Ray. Unexpected icing between Genesee County and Rochester made the return flight memorable, but with a precautionary diversion to Rochester, all was well.

Thus, making the flight to Flint became a question of whether the avionics work would be completed by my April 8 departure date. Fortunately, the work was portentously completed on April 1 (ha ha!) and I retrieved the airplane on Saturday, April 4 with huge thanks to Kristy for ground support.

1970s Tech Comes to the Rescue

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
04 Apr 2026	N21481	GVQ (Batavia, NY) - SDC (Sodus, NY) - ROC (Rochester, NY) - SDC	2.0	3118.0

As a check of 650 functionality immediately after startup, I tuned the field AWOS (automated weather observation station) and heard a strong, clear broadcast of current weather conditions. Satisfied, I completed my departure preparations and launched skyward.

Spoiler alert: the GTN 650 Xi as installed and operated during the round trip to Flint, MI. Photo from April 11, 2026.

A problem quickly became apparent, however. Every effort to raise Rochester Approach for passage through their Charlie airspace failed. I resorted to "old reliable", the 1970s era King KX-170B radio still in the panel, to achieve two way communication with Rochester. When the new tech fails, it's good to know that stuff from the 70s literally keeps on truckin'.

On approach to Sodus, the 650 failed to pull in radio calls from pattern traffic a mere five miles away and conversely, none of them could hear my futile pleas for radio checks. It was the KX-170B to the rescue once more. I managed one successful radio check with the 650, but it was while chief instructor Mike was launching 300 feet away from where I taxied. Even receipt of the on-field AWOS broadcast was weak and scratchy. Something was definitely amiss with the 650.

Nevertheless, I took the Warrior aloft again that day and successfully tracked VORs, flew the ILS-22 at Rochester and two RNAV-28 approaches at Sodus, and executed a perfect hold in lieu of procedure turn (or HILPT) maneuver. The 650 drove HAL, my Garmin autopilot, beautifully. But all voice communications were forced to rely on 50 year old radio tech. That afternoon, I determined that the 650 worked flawlessly in all regards except that transmission and receipt of radio communications were both inexplicably weak. I even crawled behind the rear bulkhead and into Warrior 481's empennage to verify that the communications antenna was actually connected to something. It was.

Buyer's Remorse

I debated for years about making this upgrade and receiving the airplane with a brand new but nonfunctional radio created a deflating sense of buyer's remorse. This was especially true because I had just given up a reliable and fully functional navigator. After thinking on it, I decided that I would fly the trip to Flint with a single functional radio (the really old one), but I was not happy about it. Availability of a handheld radio to monitor a second frequency did little to quell the sour feeling in my stomach about the money I had just spent.

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
06 Apr 2026	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) -GVQ (Batavia, NY) - SDC	1.3	3119.3

Fortunately, a small weather window opened on the morning of Monday, April 6. It was a gusty, unsettled atmosphere to swim through, but perfectly manageable. Despite spending mid morning to early afternoon at the shop, I still managed to get in a full day's worth of work by rising early and staying late. It was a long day.

In Batavia, the troubleshooting process took roughly twenty minutes to deliver a solution. In short, the installers connected the 650 to the wrong pointy bits on the Warrior's fuselage, swapping the communications and navigational antennas. Clearly, the Warrior was content to track a VOR through the comm antenna, but was not at all happy about broadcasting and receiving radio communications through the nav antenna. "Amateur hour," muttered the installer as he worked to make it right. This lack of attention to detail did little to assuage my buyer's remorse, but the first barrier was now removed. I had a fully operational airplane at my disposal for the flight to Flint.

Loss of Preferred Routing

The second barrier to the trip also derived from a decision I made in 2025. In the wake of various health concerns ("Warrior 481 Gets a Useful Load Increase"), I chose to let my Third Class FAA medical lapse and fly on BasicMed instead. While this significantly reduced the paperwork overhead involved in maintaining medical certification, it came with a downside relevant to my planned trip. Though I have flown directly from New York to Michigan via Canada dozens of times over the past 20 years, BasicMed is not recognized outside of US borders. I am now shut out of Canadian airspace.

Going the long way around.

Forgoing the direct route to Flint through Canada meant a more circuitous trek south of Lake Erie by way of Cleveland and Detroit that added 100 miles to the journey. It was also a route that passed through two Bravo airspaces surrounding the aforementioned cities. Past experience suggested that Cleveland is relatively easygoing about their airspace. However, transit through the Detroit Bravo has been a mixed bag over the years and often meant being vectored either around the Bravo entirely or directly over Detroit Metro (KDTW) on a path orthogonal to arrivals and departures. It was not lost on me that passing through the western fringe of the airspace (see graphic above) would put me downrange from Detroit's southwest oriented departure corridor with four parallel runways functionally aimed at me like "Boeing cannons". I was not sure how controllers at either facility would react to my passage through their airspace.

Back in My Day

(Stay off my lawn!)

In the old days, using established airways provided some assurance of acceptable routes through busy airspace. But with the shutdown of numerous ground-based VOR navaids in the Great Lakes region that physically anchored those Victor airway routes, the area has become an airway desert.

IFR low altitude en route chart (L-30) from 20 September 2012.

For example, the above photo is a paper IFR low altitude en route chart (L-30) from 20 September 2012 that shows all the airways (black lines crisscrossing the chart) and VORs (the circled features where those airways converge) between Cleveland (pale blue circle at the lower left) and Dunkirk, NY (upper right corner). For reference, the pale green outline is Lake Erie.

Current IFR low altitude en route chart L-30.

Today, the infrastructure looks very different. Above is a screen capture of the current low altitude IFR en route chart for the same region. The disappearance of airways and the VORs that anchor them is breathtaking. It's not just in the United States, either. Historically, several Victor airways were anchored to the Aylmer VOR in southern Ontario (visible in the 2012 L-30 chart). This station was also removed from service sometime during the last decade. (2018, if memory serves.) While I understand why these changes were made, it is hard not to feel a sense of loss in comparing today's charts against those printed when I was still an instrument student. That was a lot of cheese and someone moved virtually all of it.

IFR low altitude en route chart L-28 from 20 September 2012.

Likewise, the above chart (L-28) from 20 September 2012 shows Detroit (the largest blue area on the right) between Toledo, OH (the blue circle near the bottom of the chart) and Flint, MI (the blue circle at the top of the chart).

Current IFR low altitude en route chart L-28.

In this case, the Detroit area demonstrates the same extensive decommissioning of VORs and airways and also reflects the increase in diameter of the Detroit Bravo implemented in 2014. Interestingly, if one pans eastward looking for remaining Victor airways, their density increases significantly in eastern New York and extends out to the coastal hubs of Boston, NYC, and Philadelphia. But from Rochester west toward Michigan, the Great Lakes region is now functionally a GPS-direct zone for navigation.

Slightly Better than a Dartboard

So...how to choose a route?

In the absence of airway routing through these Bravos, I chose a route based on charted GPS waypoints between Sodus and Flint: GEE (an honest to goodness operational VOR south of Rochester), EDMNN (on the lakeshore north of Cleveland and deep within that Bravo), JERRI (to manage the shape of the lake near Sandusky), and HUUTZ (to line up with Flint). This route would keep my feet dry and avoid restricted areas (R-5502A&B). But it would also carry me through the Cleveland and Detroit airspaces. 

Will controllers allow me to fly that route? Let's file it and see what develops. At least I can talk with them now using whiz-bang 2020s tech instead of relying solely on a King radio fabricated 50 years ago.

A New Perspective

A Chance Encounter

On 27 February 2026, Tom and Alicia flew to Alton Bay under beautiful blue skies. It was their second landing at the only FAA-charted ice runway in the lower 48 states and their first time back since we went together in 2022.

As Tom waited to sign in at Alton Bay's FBO, what has to be the least-fixed fixed base operator ever conceived, a man approached Alicia and presented his card. Depicting an aerial photo of a Cessna Skyhawk, it read:

John Parolin Photography

Portraits | Landscapes | Events

He explained that he had photographed their arrival and that he would be happy to share the photos if Tom and Alicia emailed him. When they did so, what came back were a set of high resolution digital photos worthy of framing.

One of John Parolin's excellent photos of Tom and Alicia's Petrie on final at Alton Bay.

My flight to Alton Bay occurred days before on February 15th, but considering that it was the Winter Carnival, I wondered if John had been photographing arrivals on that day, too. I sent him an email, explained how I obtained his contact information, described my airplane, and provided my arrival time. A few hours later, my inbox was filled with these wonderful photographs of Warrior 481 on short final for Alton Bay.

Photo by John Parolin.

Photo by John Parolin.

Photo by John Parolin.

Photo by John Parolin.

Photo by John Parolin.

Photo by John Parolin.

Aside from cursing those tenacious exhaust stains on the belly, I was enchanted by these photos taken of my airplane from a perspective that I never get.

Thanks, John! Great work!

Idle Time at Alton Bay

Return to the Winter Carnival

Warrior 481 parked on the ice at Alton Bay 15 February 2026.

On 15 February 2026, I was one of 131 pilots to land an aircraft on the only FAA-charted ice runway in the lower 48. It was my seventh landing on the ice of Alton Bay over the last decade, undertaken on a beautiful -- almost perfect -- flying day. The festival atmosphere at Alton Bay's Winter Carnival crackled with an energy unlike anything I had ever seen there before. For me personally, it was an undeniably successful excursion and a rejuvenating winter flight across state lines.

It also happens that the whole thing unspooled in a way utterly counter to my best laid plans.

Being Opportunistic

Williamson Flying Club members at Alton Bay, NY in 2025. Photo by Joe's mom!

In 2025, we successfully executed a Williamson Flying Club fly-out to the Alton Bay Ice Runway that included a first ice landing for one of our pilots and first time visits for several others to what is arguably the most popular winter pilot destination in the Northeast. I aspired to do the same in 2026.

Once the ice on Lake Winnipesaukee's Alton Bay achieved its requisite 12-inch minimum thickness,  the runway opened on 31 January 2026 and I went into planning mode. Long range forecast models for ceiling height underscored the frustrating reality of life beneath winter's perma-cloud on the south shore of Lake Ontario, predicting days of obstinate low clouds over Sodus. Time passed. Whenever forecasts showed promise, reality was usually bleak. When forecasts suggested prohibitive ceilings, the day sometimes dawned under a crystalline blue sky, catching me unprepared to make the journey.

Finally, a window of opportunity opened. High pressure was forecast over the Northeast on Sunday, February 15. Ceiling forecasts over Sodus were not consistently ideal, but suggested a plausible chance of escaping the perma-cloud. I pitched an Alton Bay itinerary to the club predicated on an early departure (7:00 am) to ensure parking availability on the ice. Big crowds were expected at Alton Bay on February 15 due to the Winter Carnival. I watched forecasts obsessively for a week. Ultimately, I had more people wanting rides than I had airplane seats available and reprioritized the requests to favor students who had not visited the ice runway previously. Before surrendering to sleep on Saturday night, I read the final TAF issued that evening and slept soundly with confidence that all would go according to plan.

Sunday morning, I awoke at 5:30, showered, dressed, and checked my iPad to verify the weather. Before getting to the weather, I discovered two text messages waiting for my attention.

The first was sent the night before after I had silenced notifications. It was from one of my two passengers backing out of the trip. It was too late (or too early) to extend the opportunity to someone else on the waiting list.

A second message was from Tom and timestamped at 5:00 am that morning. "Are you up?" Uh-oh. Clearly, he did not like something about the weather, so I belatedly reviewed current and forecast conditions. In a turn from the night before, a low ceiling dominated the sky over Rochester and Sodus and it was not forecast to clear until after 10:00 am. Conditions were not looking favorable and Tom decided that he was out.

My second passenger, a new student pilot member, was already en route to the airport. I met him there and gave him a new member orientation tour of the field while stealing glances at the ceiling. By 8:30 that morning, the sky still showed no sign of clearing. Squarely in “no go” territory, we both departed the airport for home. 

Halfway home, the sky broke open, chasms of brilliant blue forming in the dull gray deck as the landscape blushed with warm hues of direct sunlight. It was 9:00 am. I had a preheated, preflighted airplane sitting at the airport, a plan ready to execute, a serious case of winter aeronautical wanderlust, and a beckoning sky. It would be a long day flying to New Hampshire and back and, with such a late start, there was no assurance that I would be able to land at Alton Bay once I arrived. Though I had lost my passengers, I returned to the airport.

Well, I always said that being opportunistic was the key to reaching Alton Bay.

Persistence Pays Off

Date	Aircraft	Route of Flight	Time (hrs)	Total (hrs)
15 Feb 2026	N21481	SDC (Sodus, NY) - B18 (Alton Bay, NH) - LCI (Laconia, NH) - SDC	5.9	3114.1

At the departure end of runway 10.

In the brief time between arrival at the Williamson-Sodus Airport and departure from runway 10 (above), the ceiling over the airport dissipated to permit a VFR climb to cruise altitude.

Sodus Bay on the shore of Lake Ontario.

A week earlier, I flew some practice instrument approaches at Rochester with Gilead and we saw that Lake Ontario was iced-over miles out from shore. That was no longer the case.

A closer view of the ice shelf breaking up on Lake Ontario.

Awash in brilliant sunlight and slipping smoothly through calm air, it was hard to conceive of such discouraging weather conditions just ninety minutes earlier. It was a beautiful day to fly! I activated HAL in cruise flight for the first time in many weeks and soaked in the reassuring vibrations imparted by the Warrior as she bore me above a beautiful winter landscape at 7,000 feet. That high pressure weather system was delivering exactly as hoped, if about three hours late. My only disappointment was the lack of company.

Fulton, NY.

X marks the spot of the Oswego County Airport (Fuzzy).

Much like 2025, broken ice floes from Lake Ontario had accreted at the downwind end of the lake to create a massive false shoreline.

Piseco Lake in the southern Adirondacks.

Farther east, an increasingly stippled landscape heralded the rise of the Adirondacks.

PRISON AREA. DO NOT PICK UP HITCHHIKERS.

Frosted peaks in the “Green” Mountains.

After weeks of a weather-imposed short leash to home, I crossed the invisible state boundary into Vermont. Flying far enough to cross a state line in winter seemed like an accomplishment unto itself.

A Well Buttered Ice Runway

"November Four Eight One, a Cessna departing Alton Bay indicated that aircraft are lined up and waiting on the taxiway to park. Squawk VFR, frequency change approved, have a good one.”

I thanked Boston Approach for the advisory, reconfigured my transponder and radio, and maneuvered through a gap in the high terrain west of Alton Bay to enter the pattern.

Alton Bay is a relatively narrow pseudopod of water extending from the amorphous blob of Lake Winnipesaukee. Despite the poor contrast of white on white, the runway and parallel taxi were clearly visible below. From the downwind leg for runway 1, I estimated about 15 aircraft queued on the ice of the parallel taxiway waiting their turn to park. It was the busiest I had ever seen the ice runway and was exactly what I had feared in pushing for an early departure in the first place.

Dark speckles of humanity crowded the ice surrounding the airport. I had never seen so many people at Alton Bay before, including my last Winter Carnival experience in 2019. It was stunning.

A voice on the radio: "What's the parking situation at Alton Bay?"

"Looking better now with some departures," came an anonymous response that may have been one of the volunteers on the ground. Abeam the parking area, I could see open parking spots, but not enough to fit all the aircraft already waiting.

Traffic ahead of me flew a pattern more befitting a 747 than a Cessna bug smasher, so I extended my pattern to accommodate. I arrived over the ephemeral airport in a steep, power off approach to avoid buzzing the parking area. As I neared the surface, I saw many upraised phones among the crowd, held high as though proffered in tribute. In reality, spectators were probably just hoping to see someone biff a landing. Regardless, I momentarily wondered how many people walked away from the Winter Carnival with pictures of my airplane on approach. (In hindsight, I have objective evidence of at least two.)

Closer to the icy surface, the perspective flattened and I gently pulled on the controls... farther... farther... the stall warning sounded... farther... and I was rolling smoothly on the ice without any sensation of surface contact. A single smooth pull and seamless touchdown made for pure physical poetry. I was reminded of Scott's voice on the intercom after my 2019 landing at Alton Bay. "Like butter," he said at the time. A 10/10 landing in front of a crowd is worth celebrating. Sorry to disappoint any spectators looking for a disaster.

Literal Idle Time

Although the Alton Bay volunteers who plow out the facility will leave a thin crust of snow on the runway for traction whenever possible, the surface on February 15 was mostly glare ice. I came to a near stop before negotiating the 180° turn onto the parallel taxiway. Even then, the Warrior slid a few inches sideways in the turn. Forget Tokyo, this was New Hampshire drift. It was slick. 

Taxiing southbound on the parallel taxiway, I took my place in line with what I estimated to be eight other aircraft. The line had shortened since I was on downwind as multiple departures opened slots in the parking area.

Although it meant that they were backlit by the sun, my place on the taxiway was an excellent vantage point to watch additional arrivals.

Some did full stop landings and joined the line growing behind my tail. Others chose to do a touch and go instead. Those of us on the taxiway were effectively trapped there until we reached its end where the option existed to turn left into parking (once there was room) or turn right and depart the runway.

Some ski equipped planes chose to land and park "off airport" (perhaps an odd phrase to use relative to a facility on a frozen lake). As I waited, a pair of Cessna taildraggers on skis arrived alongside the taxiway with significant chatter between them about the snowmobiles zipping around their intended landing zone. I was reminded of the anxiety that jet skis caused me during my seaplane training.

Time passed and the line slowly advanced as departures opened parking spaces for those of us waiting. At one point, airport manager Jason Leavitt broadcast to inbound aircraft that there were fourteen of us waiting on the taxiway.

As I waited, I received multiple texts from Kristy, Tom, Mark B, and others who did enough FlightAware stalking to discover that I'd made it down to the ice. Cell service was surprisingly poor in the middle of the relatively narrow bay. Ultimately, I idled on the taxiway 45 minutes before reaching parking. Some of the aircraft ahead of me were shutting down while they waited, but I was not enamored with the idea of starting and stopping the engine several times. I ran with the mixture pulled back as far as possible while still keeping the engine idling and hoped that it was enough to avoid fouling the plugs.

Speak Friend and Enter

Eventually, I made my way to the front of the line and was marshalled forward into parking by a series of  orange-vested Alton Bay volunteers that included longtime showrunner Paul LaRochelle.

Marshalled deeper into the parking area, I came spinning nose to spinning nose with a Cessna pulling out of a parking spot. Alton Bay's parking area is a large rectangle with aircraft parked along both long edges with maneuvering space down the middle, but it is a relatively narrow space. I edged my airplane closer to the line of parked aircraft off my right wingtip. With that wingtip being roughly 18 feet from my vantage point in the left seat, the challenging perspective made it difficult to judge how close it truly was to the noses of the parked airplanes. Volunteers walked the wing of the Cessna as it crept forward to ensure clearance with aircraft parked along the other side. Ultimately, it passed me with some significant vertical overlap between our wings. Thank goodness it was a high wing aircraft.

Boots on the Ice

This is why gust locks exist.

With the engine stopped, a volunteer pushed me back into a spot while I steered with the rudder from the pilot seat. On emerging from the Warrior, I was "dusted" by one of a flight of five helicopters that landed immediately behind my airplane. That “dust” was very cold.

Panoramic photo taken from what appears to be a snubby little nose on Warrior 481.

Finally parked, I took a moment to survey my surroundings from my place among the parked airplanes.

I gingerly made my way across the glare ice of the parking area with arrivals still landing and waiting for parking. I brought YakTrax with me in case they were needed, but not knowing where I would wind up in town, I chose not to wear them.

2006 Aviat Husky.

1974 Beech Bonanza.

2022 Diamond DA40.

$100 “Ice” Chili

Panoramic taken from the shore where I enjoyed my chili.

Shibley's at the Pier expected a two hour wait. Considering that it was already 1:30 pm and that my sole meal of the day was a yogurt at 6:00 am, I could not wait that long. Shibley's hostess directed me to a lower deck where they were serving chowder, chili, and beer. As it turned out, they were out of chowder, but I got the last of chili. The beer was still flowing, but off limits to me.

My chili was delicious and really hit the spot. Extra jalapeños were a nice touch.

The crowd was the largest I had ever seen at Alton Bay. This was a very different experience from my first weekday landing there in 2015 when there was no one to be seen. In addition to snowmobiles, ATVs, and even air boats, horse-drawn wagons circled the airport boundary.

Warrior 481 parked on the ice with a lone admirer.

A helicopter departing Alton Bay, "dusting" Warrior 481 again.

This year's ice sculpture was, fittingly, an airplane!

A 1987 Lake LA-250 Renegade taxiing for departure.

As in past years, access between the ice and the mainland was via Alton Bay's boat ramp.

A Not-So-Fixed Fixed Base Operator

Facility changes for 2026 included the introduction of an FBO trailer where pilots check in, receive their 2026 certificates and ice chips (this year's chip features the likenesses of Paul and Jason, the public faces of the volunteer group), and purchase swag. I bought a new blue hat to replace my favorite one from 2015 that is starting to fray from use. Another focus in 2026, as evident from the signage, was a concerted effort to keep non-pilots out of the parking area.

Plane Spotting

I was challenged by a volunteer as I passed the FBO and confirmed that I was, indeed, a pilot. Once inside the protected perimeter of the airport, I proceeded to draw my camera out of my coat to take pictures like a tourist.

1973 Cessna 180.

1973 Cessna 180.

2024 Rans S-21.

1975 Grumman American AA-5B Tiger.

1975 Grumman American AA-5B Tiger.

1968 Mooney M20C.

2013 Carbon Cub.

1955 PA-18-105 Super Cub.

2016 Carbon Cub.

2016 Carbon Cub.

2015 Aviat Husky.

2025 Carbon Cub and a 1979 Spam Can.

2025 Carbon Cub. I loved the look of this airplane.

Time to go!

In Praise of the Prime Mover

Paul LaRochelle standing ready to marshal traffic.

Although Alton Bay’s ice runway traces its roots back to the 1960s, it fell out of use during the ‘80s. Paul LaRochelle revived the airport in 2009 in partnership with the New Hampshire Department of Transportation. Over the years, the size of the volunteer operation has grown with the ice runway’s popularity. In 2021, Jason Leavitt took over as airport manager, but Paul remains a prime mover of the operation and the pair are the public faces of the novel and beloved facility.

I made a point to thank Paul for all of his hard work over the years. "We've had up to fourteen airplanes waiting to get in to parking today!" he remarked. I told him that I was one of them. "Oh, I'm really sorry," he answered.

"No need to apologize! It's been a great day and you folks are doing a wonderful job. I'm just happy to be here at all," I replied, alluding to my weather challenges that morning. He had no idea about the winter perma-cloud faced by Rochester area pilots and there was no need to burden him with climatological grievances.

I peered upward one last time at an arriving aircraft before climbing aboard Warrior 481. Having learned from my encounter with the Cessna that morning, I was sure to get the nod from a volunteer before creeping out of my parking spot.

The High Road to Laconia

High terrain surrounds the ice runway, but flying northward over Lake Winnipesaukee keeps aircraft over low terrain until reaching a suitable altitude to turn on course. Usually, I follow the lake north and west to Laconia for fuel. Today, however, the central portion of the lake was affected by a temporary flight restriction (TFR) for unmanned rocket launches. Instead, I departed the airport environment with a westward turn over the same saddle point in the terrain through which I arrived.

Laconia Airport (foreground), Lake Winnipesaukee (background), and snowcapped Mount Washington (way in the background).

Lake Winnipesaukee.

Score! Another greaser landing at Laconia.

Waiting for fuel at Sky Bright. No salt on the ramp this year.

To File or Not to File?

Last year on the return from Alton Bay with the club, we encountered a snow squall near Syracuse. With visibility dropping rapidly, I requested and received a pop-up IFR clearance from Syracuse. While this is a great back pocket tool for pilots, using it feels like an admission of poor planning. On the other hand, filing IFR in the winter can set a pilot up for icing problems if ATC assigns an altitude in the clouds. I have learned this the hard way in a couple of instances.

I did not expect to encounter weather on the way home, but I did not anticipate it in 2025, either. I decided to err on the side of being prepared and filed a quick instrument flight plan direct from Laconia to Sodus while waiting to use the fuel pump.

Stratton Mountain Resort, Stratton Mountain, VT.

Off Laconia, I contacted Boston Approach for my instrument clearance.

“Cherokee Four Eight One, that’s going to be a full route clearance. Advise ready to copy.” 

Foolishly, I was unprepared for that and scrambled for something to write on. After a few seconds of clumsy cockpit chaos, I took a deep breath and responded with my most deeply resonant, unhurried captain’s voice.

“Cherokee Four Eight One is ready to copy.” See? I got this.

“Cherokee Four Eight One is cleared to the Sierra Delta Charlie airport via direct Cambridge, Charlie Alpha Mike, Tango 316, LAMMS, Lima Alpha Mike Mike Sierra, Tango 608, WOZEE, Whiskey Oscar Zulu Echo Echo…”

I still keep to the advice given to me by my instrument instructor Tom about copying clearances: don’t think, write. But I definitely processed WOZEE and my heart fell. That fix is located over Buffalo. Boston was clearing me to fly past Sodus to Buffalo, then double back to Sodus. That would add at least an extra hour of unnecessary flight time.

Green Mountains of Vermont.

I read the clearance back impeccably, entered it into ForeFlight to determine the individual fixes along each T-route, then set about programming those individual fixes into the GNS 430W. There was little point in arguing with Boston Approach about the routing and I decided to wait for an opportunity with a different facility before reaching Syracuse.

Once the route was entered, I realized that it was likely my last full route clearance workout with the GNS 430W. A replacement navigator is scheduled for install in early March. And no, that ancient KX-170B nav/com isn't going anywhere.

From there, all was smooth sailing home. Upon switching to a Boston Center controller that seemed like he had less to do, I requested direct to Sodus after LAMMS (east of Syracuse) and this was granted. ETA numbers came back into a reasonable range and I would touch down just ten minutes before sunset.

Not the new blue hat.

Still smiling. It was a great day! Thanks to Paul LaRochelle, Jason Leavitt, and the entire volunteer group who invest so much of time and talent into manifesting the most transient airport in the lower 48!

From Gray to Glorious

Despite a dreary start to the day, when clouds once again moved to cover the sky, they did so as dramatic accents rather than impediments. The difference is all in the altitude.

Syracuse Hancock International Airport.

Evening sun over Onondaga Lake and the Syracuse Hancock International Airport.

Bedtime for Little Pipers

With another smooth landing back at Sodus, I was happily three for three. I helped another member push Five Five Whiskey back into a hangar from the icy ramp before taking care of my own airplane.

Standing water on the apron was actively returning to the solid phase when it was time to put the Warrior to bed, but YakTrax ensured solid footing.

A crimson sky was a final gift from a near perfect winter flying day. It did not compensate for the slow clearing of the morning ceiling that spoiled everyone else’s plans, but I always appreciate the little gifts that nature grants.

In the end, the timing was perfect. Ray retrieved Warrior 481 for her 2026 annual inspection the next morning, thus ending any ability to fly to the ice runway for the likely remainder of the season. 

Did It Really Happen?

In the age of social media, does something need to be posted publicly in order for it to have actually happened? It sometimes seems that way. Fortunately, I received a pointer to the images below from a sharp-eyed Mark B who spotted photos of me landing at Alton Bay from a New Hampshire Facebook group. Per the rhetorical question I pondered about how many people had photos of my airplane landing at Alton Bay, the answer is obviously "at least one".

Photo by "Mike N Lisa".

Photo by "Mike N Lisa". Time to wash the belly again!