AOPA Pilot Magazine - February 2022 - 71

To the east
On August 10, a preview flight indicated that the prior season's
heavy snowpack had finally melted enough to get adequate photographs.
Just then, a heat wave was forecast, which meant a
few days of high pressure. I was faced with a choice: Do I go
south to the Maritime Alps, where the glaciers surely will be
presenting themselves with the least snow, or do I go east, and
get the worst over with? The glaciers of Austria are, at their farthest,
350 miles from where I keep the Cub, with rugged terrain
and few airports in between. I loaded up the airplane and took
off for Samedan Airport in St. Moritz, Switzerland, the highest
airport in Europe, with a field elevation of 5,600 feet msl. The
next morning, I flew through a rain shower into the Ötztal Alps
of Austria, sandwiched between orographic overcast above and
terrain below, with 30 knots of wind in between. It was an apropos
introduction to a complex project, to get beaten up at 12,000
feet by the rotors. I realized I might have bitten off more than I
could chew: There was much more aerial work involved than I
thought from viewing satellite maps.
I photographed half of what I had in mind before fuel became
a concern, so it was 10,500 feet down to Innsbruck, from freezing
cold to hot summer weather. On the way back up, climbing for 45
minutes, it was evident that my suitcases, full fuel, and the heat
meant I had less range than I was used to. That left plenty of time
to terrorize myself staring at increasing oil temperatures, wondering
if I'd ever get the project done with such climb, fuel, and
range limitations. I could fly two and a half hours, instead of my
typical three, before I needed to be back in the circuit for landing.
So I flew the glaciers in two-and-a-half-hour sessions: 10,000
feet up in the cold, back down in the suffocating heat. The next day
featured the attack of the Höhe Tauern National Park in Austria,
which contains the highest peak in the country, abundant glaciers,
and...a restricted area requiring 2,000 feet agl ground clearance,
which irritatingly placed the aircraft right at the cumulus layer.
With some creative flying over deep alpine valleys, I was able to
exchange the cloud problem for a longer flight path.
The next day, I flew almost two hours back east, swinging
through the Berchtesgaden Alps in Germany before photographing
the easternmost glacier in light rain after a thunderstorm. In
four days, I put 23 hours on the tachometer.
Glacier flying involves flying up and down mountain ranges,
often on both sides, with curved flight paths into and out of
cirques, steep basins created by glacial erosion. It is impossible
to plan a specific flight path, or measure in advance with any
precision how much I will get done. I calculate distance to and
from the glacier fields in question and the airports in use, subtract
the time from my two-and-a-half-hour limit, and leave the
rest as available for wandering around the glaciers. When the
clock runs out of time, I point the nose back to the airport. That
can create some frustrating situations with borders, flight plans,
and controllers, although the hardest part is the simple reality
that 18 gallons is not enough for this kind of endeavor.
AOPA PILOT / February 2022
71
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AOPA Pilot Magazine - February 2022

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