AOPA Pilot Magazine - February 2011 - 90

have been treated with the rain repellent—or it had simply worn away, as it tends to do over time. We broke out a half-mile from the runway and I clicked off the autopilot and autothrottles. Given the heavy rain, everything was murky. I asked the captain for my wiper on high. It didn’t help much, if at all. The rain was deafening and the runway, coming up at 150 knots, was a blur of bright lights that were distinguishable enough to aim for, but that was it. Luckily, the 737 verbally counts down your radar altimeter height in 10-foot increments below 30 feet, so I could judge our height and when to begin the flare. There were no other clues to judge height through the blurry window. While high-intensity runway lights are needed to find runways in crummy weather, they make it nearly impossible to distinguish height for a proper flare to land, especially in heavy rain or fog. We touched down slightly long and off center to the left—very unprofessional for a pro pilot—and cleared the runway at the planned turnoff. A little rattled, I glanced over at the captain’s windshield to see the water rolling off in nice little beads while mine was completely obscured by a sheet of water. Now I knew why other pilots were making such a big deal about the rain repellent. It obviously was a serious safety issue in this circumstance, and I, too, will join the chorus in favor of rain repellent applications. Lessons learned? First, given the weather, I should have simply selected an autoland approach. After all, the autopilot couldn’t care less about the windshield’s condition. Once on the runway, all we’d have to do is click off the autopilot and autothrottles and keep the centerline lights under the nose. Airline pilots typically like to handle the landing personally, since they are the highlight of the flight. Long-haul pilots, especially, don’t get to land the airplane often and are required to log three per quarter to maintain proficiency. But, this would be one of those cases where it’s best to park your ego and let George do it, if available. In the future, once in the rain, I will take a gander at both windshields to determine if they have been treated rather than finding out in the heat of battle. Foggy bottom Fog can produce similar results on landing. Years ago, I was flying a charAOPA PILOT •

ter flight in a Beech Baron 58 when fog began forming at our destination, Baltimore-Washington International Airport. I had a more-experienced guy in the right seat, which is always a great asset. The weather was advertised as indefinite ceiling with one-half mile visibility and airliners were starting to miss approaches. The RVR on Runway 10 was better than the parallel runways 15L and 15R, and our arrival from the west made us the first in line to give it a try on the new runway setup. We broke out at minimums to the initially welcoming high-intensity lights, but as in the 737 case before, we couldn’t judge our height in the murk illuminated by bright lights. I left some power in as we felt our way to the ground like a seaplane pilot would approach glassy water at night. My co-pilot—having been there, done that—was right on the ball, calling out height above the ground by looking out the side window, just like the radar altimeter in the 737. That human radar altimeter helped immensely, and we touched down smoothly with power. We actually had more trouble finding the appropriate taxiway to clear the runway than we did with the landing. There’s so much to be said for having a good co-pilot when the weather is crummy. Whenever faced with adverse conditions, consider collaring another pilot to fly with you—even if you have to buy him a ticket home. Plan B On a personal skiing trip to Mount Snow, Vermont, in my family’s Baron, I learned a great lesson about when to throw in the towel and pull that Plan B from your back pocket. The airport lies in a valley and generally, if the winter weather isn’t awful, the wind is directly across the runway and turbulence is plentiful. The weather was good this day; therefore, the wind was blowing. A call to unicom to check on the runway conditions came up empty. We overflew the airport and saw the lone attendant on a plow just finishing the removal of the last evening’s snow. That explained the unanswered call to unicom. The fresh powder was enticing to us skiers in the airplane, but the snowbanks on either side of the runway were ominous, and the runway was all white in appearance. After a low pass to get a closer look at the runway, my more-experienced co-pilot and brother, Bill, determined that since none of the runway markings

90 • FEBRUARY

2011

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AOPA Pilot Magazine - February 2011

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of AOPA Pilot Magazine - February 2011