On each and every flight, we make hundreds of decisions. Are we physically fit? How about the airplane? The weather? The list is endless. And we never, ever do everything perfectly.
Perhaps that is what keeps us flying.
On a recent flight, I did a lot of things right. But not everything.
Patty and I were returning home from a lovely adventure to Turks and Caicos hosted by the fine folks at Air Journey. It was my first flight to the islands, so I opted to take along one of their safety pilots. We had a great time. On departure day, we flew the two-hour leg to Florida clearing customs at Ft. Pierce (KFPL). A nonstop return to Dallas was possible but an extensive line of convective activity stretching from east Texas northward made this unlikely.
As we ate lunch at the Ft. Pierce airport, I told Patty that we would stop in Panama City (KECP) to review the weather and fill up with fuel to have the reserves necessary to get home safely.
Score one good decision for me.
Climbing out of ECP, it was obvious that this flight was going to be a challenge. From the picture below, my plan was to deviate to the south of the line of thunderstorms to Waco, Texas and then north to Dallas. In the clear at FL400, we were well on top of everything as shown in the second picture. I planned a diversion option of KCWF to the south with no precipitation in their overcast 4,000-foot forecast.
But airplanes ahead were asking for higher altitudes up to FL420 to clear the line of weather. “Houston center, November three nine six delta mike is requesting wrong way flight level four one zero for weather,” I asked. Another thousand feet might be all I needed to stay in the clear.
Score one for wishful thinking.
The tops increased slowly as we got closer to the frontal activity. The ride was smooth, with no ominous buildups ahead and no dark skies. I was not quite comfortable being so close to the tops but reasoned that we could safely proceed. As we continued, the clouds rose ever so slowly so that the airplane was in the clouds, but I could see the sunshine through the tops.
I squirmed in my seat.
A few seconds later, a flashing red master warning light with the message “Left Windshield Anti-Ice Fail.” In itself, not a serious matter and no ice was visible on the windshield. Then, a few seconds later: “T2 HEATER FAIL”
This one was more serious. High altitude ice crystals were clogging the sensor that controls engine thrust. The Mustang’s FADEC engine controls sensed the ice and automatically reduced engine thrust on both engines. Patty read the checklist for exiting icing conditions. To compound matters, my NEXRAD weather depiction, which I was using to plan my deviation, went blank.
The easiest decision was the next one. “Center, six delta mike would like to change our destination to KCWF.” While I was task-saturated, Patty was rock solid, likely due to her CJP companion simulator training. She handled the checklist while I negotiated with Center for the diversion. Out came the speed brakes and we made a rapid descent and approach to an 800-foot overcast.
My decision to fly over the weather might have worked. But I didn’t plan for everything.
Fly safe.
