Page 34 - Volume 16 Number 1

by David MillerIn a FogWe own airplanes to go where we want, when we want. So, when something happens to disrupt our plans it’s not likely to be met with much enthusiasm. Take fog, for example. It can really ruin your day or at least disorder it. Such was the case as I planned to depart in the Mustang on Thanksgiving morning with Patty, our son and daughter-in-law, and two grandkids, to deposit them in Hammond, Louisiana for the holiday. And with the thorough planning I am known for, we would make it back to Dallas in time to join the rest of the family for our feast.Unfortunately, I didn’t plan for fog and neither did the National Weather Service, at least up until about two hours before our planned departure. The previous night’s 10 pm newscast made no mention and my 6 am alarm clock didn’t say anything unusual. A quick glance at the early morning terminal forecast mentioned the possibility of fog, but promised clearing shortly after our scheduled 0800 departure. Prudence required texting our son to advise against departing for the airport with two infants until I could be sure they wouldn’t have to pace back and forth in the hangar.As I drove to Addison (KADS) in the clear, things didn’t look so bad. Perhaps the weather service had just been overly cautious. But, by the time I got to the airplane, the ATIS was reporting indefinite ceiling 100 and visibility of one-quarter. Maybe this was just a localized condition. With my modern technology (a cell phone and Pilot My Cast), I could see that this fog was a much bigger problem. Dallas Love (KDAL), about eight miles away, was reporting indefinite 100 and a viz of one-eighth. DFW had an RVR of 1,400. The frequencies were eerily quiet. I could depart legally but what if I needed a quick return? My options were many, many miles down the road.The skies overhead were thick and eerily silent. Nobody was going anywhere.I recalled a trip years ago when I departed Addison in a Duke in perfectly clear morning skies, on a trip to Wichita Falls, a joint military/civilian field just one hundred miles northwest. It was only a thirty minute flight. I knew something was amiss when I heard the controllers recalling all the T-38 trainers back to the field in a hurry. By the time I got close, I could see the fog. Still flying in perfectly clear skies, I was cleared for the ILS and by the time I got to 200 and 1⁄2 I was still flying in those perfectly clear skies! HaveWith 5,000-plus hours in his logbook, David Miller has been flying for business and pleasure for more than 40 years. Having owned and flown a variety aircraft types, from turboprops to midsize jets, Miller, along with his wife Patty, now own and fly a Citation Mustang. You can contact David at davidmiller1@ sbcglobal.net.you ever been to ILS minimums in perfectly clear skies? Even the short skyline of Wichita Falls was poking through the mist and way above the tops. It was a strange sight. I diverted.But, back to our Thanksgiving morning. I checked in with ground control and made sure they would hold my clearance. No problem, they said. “Do you need minimum takeoff visibility?” they queried. “Well, not exactly,” I said. “But my grandkids do.” And the fog went nowhere. I sat in the cockpit for over an hour imagining that I saw breaks in the overcast and counting the number of trees I could see in the distance. It was lonely out there.By 10 am the ATIS was reporting one mile visibility. Texts went flying. Babies arrived. We taxied out to the active. Almost no one was flying. The departure end of the runway was still shrouded in fog but ten seconds after we punched up through the clouds, we were in the clear.We arrived in Hammond two hours late, unpacked our family, and realized the FBO had closed for Thanksgiving. After a thirty minute wait for the lineman to finish his family dinner, we were off to Dallas.We finished our day with turkey and dressing in Styrofoam containers, under perfectly clear skies.Fly safe.ON FINAL32 • TWIN & TURBINE JANUARY 2012