March 2003

[flattie45 17]

I had purchased my Cessna 140 on Feb. 28, 2003. Previously I had been renting 152's and 172's and was quite happy to have my own aircraft. My girlfriend (marriage was still three years away) had ridden down to Soldotna with her sister to visit their parents and I was going to pick her up the next day. She had flown with me once before in a 152 and I was more than happy to put some hours on the plane. This was in mid March. Anybody from south-central Alaska remembers the weather we experienced in March of 2003. And guess who is going out flying!

I depart Merrill Field about nine in the morning and have a beautiful flight down. I have lunch with her family and everything is great. In the afternoon we notice the tree tops are moving around pretty good so I decide that we need to get going before it gets any worse. Her father drops us off at the airport. Of course the wind is anything but coming down the center-line. I make one of my ugliest take offs, but we are airborne and headed home. I can see the Anchorage bowl and it is just one giant dust cloud. Damn. It's not super bumpy at this point, just strong winds, making for slow going. Maybe twenty minutes after take off I am starting to think about heading back but I really don't want to land with that crosswind. Kenai's runway is pretty much inline with the wind, so I figure that if nothing else we'll divert there. But first I want to continue on and see if it gets better. It has to, right?

The 140 indicates 100 mph in cruise. At the time I did not have a GPS but we can't have been doing more than 60 mph across the ground. After what seems like forever we approach the southern shore of Turnagain Arm. I prefer to have 3000 ft of altitude crossing the water. As I started to climb it got bumpier and bumpier. Not just light little love pats on the airframe but rather solid feeling hits. I descend and cross the water at about 1800 feet. By now I have tuned in Merrill traffic. An Arctic Tern had departed Girdwood and made an attempt to land. He went around once and headed back to Girdwood, where he said it was not as bad. I didn't feel like flying along the Arm in such conditions, but Girdwood was an option. And I still had Kenai in my back pocket. It sure wouldn't take long to back track with such tailwinds.

We are now over south Anchorage following the Seward highway north and it is turbulent. About the time I approach the Polaris High School reporting point we have trash blowing past us. Trash bags, paper, all sorts of crap and we're at 1000 feet. My left hand is moving the yoke in, out, left, right, whatever it takes to stay somewhat straight and level. Meanwhile, Sarah is sitting there not saying a word. Later on, after getting safely on the ground, she said she looked over at me and I did not look scared and that was good enough for her.

A Piper Navajo was making an approach into Merrill. I paid attention to the radio. Fuck, he had to go around. If a Piper twin was having trouble, what were my chances? Understand I had well under a hundred hours on my license. I've been around small aircraft for as long as I can remember, but that is not the same as PIC. The Navajo is on final again. I hear the controller tell him to exit the runway and I breathe a little easier. Still, the wind is howling and the difference between his plane and mine is more than a few thousand pounds and I'd bet he had at least a hundred hours PIC time.

I talk to the tower and I'm cleared for runway 33 (it's since changed to 34). The wind is better for the ski strip (runway 3). I tell the tower I'm going for runway 03. I'm on wheels but the runway is solid ice. Either way, the airport, any airport, is a beautiful thing.

Not thinking (pretty much par for the course), I touch down standard-style at the approach end of the runway. It was actually a pretty decent landing. Except I have about 1800 feet of icy runway in front of me before there is any sign of dry pavement. Landing was easy. Taxiing is a bitch. It took me fifteen minutes to get off the runway. It seemed like forever. I would slowly advance only to have the wind blow us towards the edge. I'd throttle up, face into the wind and move towards the other side. We ended up making a sawtooth path all the way up the runway. Finally we get off the runway and onto dry pavement. I start taxiing towards my parking spot. At first it's fine as we're pretty much facing into the wind. But I have to turn onto taxiway Quebec. Crosswind. I had not come this far to wreck my plane taxiing around. It was no fun. I'd be going down the taxiway and in an instant a strong gust would turn the plane 90 degrees. Nothing I could do to prevent it. I'd straighten out, make it 80 yards and again find myself looking into the wind. Then I see a wonderful sight. Two guys come running towards us. They bend down and come up with tie-down ropes. They wave me in. I taxi in between them as they tie down the plane. I swear these guys must have had halos and white wings. I shut down the engine. My airspeed indicator is still active. One of the saints gave Sarah a ride to the car. I sat in the plane and manned the controls until she returned. It is odd to have to fly your plane while it is tied down. I should have logged that time as well! When Sarah returns I notice an upside down aircraft. A Taylorcraft had a tie-down come undone and had flipped over. The two guys go over to see what they can do.

I secure the plane as best as possible and we return home. Waiting on the voice-mail is a message from my little brother: "Nathan, if you get this message, DO NOT FLY BACK TO ANCHORAGE! STAY IN SOLDOTNA! REPEAT, DO NOT COME HOME!"

The next day there is enough of a break to get back to my normal tie down, although it is still very windy. The next day I have to return to work. The wind storm lasts for a few days. My father spends most of one night with his car parked in front as a wind break. There were many aircraft damaged in that windstorm, but mine was just fine.

I still think about this flight and shake my head. I used my inferior judgment to put my inferior flying skills to use, to modify a popular expression.

On my boss's wall is a sign that reads:

Good judgment comes from experience

Experience comes from bad judgment

-Nate

[akflyer 1427]

I remember that year... holy hell we had some bad wind storms. Good thing that wind was not coming out of the east or you would have really got the shit kicked out of you flying over the arm!