AOPA Pilot Magazine - February 2011 - 91

(numbers or centerline) was visible, the runway was likely quite slick. After a short discussion of the gusty crosswind, presumably slick surface, snowbanks, and 2,600-foot runway, the safest call was to hop over the ridge to Bennington’s Morse State Airport where the longer runway was aligned with the wind. It didn’t take long for me to agree with him on this plan. Two $75 cab rides beat wrecking your pride and joy—and seeing your decision-making skills called to light in front of the feds. Blizzard blitz Sometimes you get lucky, as in my flight in a Jetstream 41 turboprop to Philadelphia International Airport one nasty day. My first officer and I were groaning at the ATIS reports of weather at minimums in heavy blowing snow—a blizzard, basically. Braking action was poor, but the winds were right down Runway 9R. We discussed the legalities and options and couldn’t come up with a reason that we shouldn’t continue. Others ahead were getting in and breaking out “right at minimums”—always a suspect term. Given the long runway, and steady wind right down the runway, we forged on. The snow in the landing lights made that powerful image like the scene in Star Wars when the Millennium Falcon accelerates to light speed. Mesmerizing, yes, but during the approach was not the time to soak it in. We did break out at minimums as advertised and this time, the bright runway lights didn’t ruin our height judgment, since the wind-blown snow on the runway provided more than adequate reflection from the J41’s landing lights. And the best part of landing on a snow-covered runway is that the landings can be so smooth that you may not even notice you’ve touched down—like a fluffy pillow. I gently pulled the Garrett engines into beta (zero thrust), which pops the ground spoilers to plant the airplane on the pavement. I was careful not to use any reverse, which would blow the snow forward and obscure visibility. The poor braking action didn’t matter given the 30-knot headwind, and we slowed quickly without any brakes. A round of applause erupted from the 20-plus anxious passengers in the back and, flattered as we were, we couldn’t take all the credit for the result. Were the conditions any different (winds, especially) we may not have landed in Philly at all.

Sunglasses and seatbelts A howling wind right down the runway at both my departure and destination airports made me feel confident in my decision to take my Cessna 172 to the Bay Bridge Airport in Stevensville, Maryland, for something not terribly important, if I recall. As a friend likes to recant a poignant weather briefing he once had, it was a “sunglasses and seatbelts” kind of day. Nobody who wasn’t getting paid to do so was flying that day, and the 50-knot tailwinds from my departure airport to Bay Bridge pushed the Skyhawk there in record time. The winds were blowing about 30 knots gusting to 40 right down Runway 29 and made for one of those elevator arrivals where the groundspeed at touchdown was basically zero. As I turned 90 degrees to the wind to clear the runway, I held the yoke to correctly position the control surfaces to minimize the potential of getting flipped on my back. Then it happened. A gust lifted the right wing up and the airplane balanced on its nose and left main tires for what seemed like an eternity but wasn’t more than a few seconds. I sat frozen on the controls, the airplane at a standstill, as the right wing cycled up and down a few times until the wind gust relented and plopped me back on the ground with a thud. Knowing I was in a precarious position, I gingerly maneuvered the airplane tail to the wind and taxied to the ramp. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in the safety of flight planning that we neglect to consider the safety of ground operations. I didn’t think much beyond the fact that the wind was right down the runway at my departure and destination airport, making for a safe flight to and from—but what about taxiing to the ramp? Thankfully that peanut of a brain in my head has become wiser to the widely varied conditions in which we fly. I’ve learned so much from the many fine pilots I’ve flown with over the years, and much of the experience I’ve gained in 9,000 hours has come from them. If nothing else, these experiences prove the old adage that a good pilot is always learning. Peter A. Bedell of Gaithersburg, Maryland, is a first officer for a major airline who holds type ratings in the Boeing 737, Canadair Regional Jet, and BAe Jetstream 41.
AOPA PILOT • 91 • FEBRUARY 2011

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AOPA Pilot Magazine - February 2011

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