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We leveled off at 5,500 in
a blue sky, dotted with white clouds. I contacted Kansas City Center for
flight following to Quincy, Illinois. Vicki thumbed through a magazine about
Log Homes and where to build them. She’s planning our retirement.
With a strong tail wind
producing a ground speed of 115 knots we made excellent time to Quincy. Our
descent was smooth until we passed over the Mississippi River. On the downwind
for runway 21, the ride was again smooth, all the way to the ground.
We taxied to Curtis
Aviation and parked the airplane. One Hundred LL was $2.64 a gallon, a little
high, but the service was excellent. Inside, Vicki went to the pilot’s lounge
to make us each an egg salad sandwich and pour a glass of lemonade, while I
checked the radar screen and called Flight Service.
On the screen there was a line of storms, stretching northwest of Chicago
toward the southeast. The line looked to be 60 to 70 miles long. Flight
Service said they were unpredictable at this point. Earlier, a line of storms
developed in the same area and then fell apart. My next scheduled stop was
Kankakee, 25 miles south of Chicago.
“There’s a NOTAM for Kankakee,” the briefer said. “A landing reservation is
required.”
There was a NASCAR race in Chicago and Kankakee expected the overflow from
Chicago’s Midway. I called for a reservation.
I went back to the pilot’s lounge. The Chicago NASCAR race was on TV. “How
does it look?” Vicki asked. She handed me a sandwich.
“Thunder storms developing north of our route,” I said. “They could give us
trouble.”
Leaving Quincy I contacted Kansas City Center for flight following and was
soon handed off to Peoria, as sky conditions began to change. We flew into
mild turbulence at 5,500, as the wispy clouds we had encountered earlier, grew
larger. Halfway to Kankakee we were handed off to Chicago Center. To the
northeast of us a distant line of cumulus clouds were building. They had a
pinkish hue. I requested a frequency change to contact Flight Watch. “Change
approved,” Chicago said. “Report back.”
I asked Flight Watch about the line of storms I had seen earlier on the screen
at Quincy. The briefer said the storms were well developed and tracking
southeast, with hail, and winds in excess of 40 knots. I gave him my position
and ground speed and asked if he thought we could get to Kankakee ahead of the
storms. “I’d advise against it,” he said. “You’re close to Pontiac. Maybe ten
miles. The identifier is Poppa November Tango.”
Back on frequency I waited for a break in the dialogue. Chicago Center was
advising other aircraft to divert to Pontiac. In all there were 6 aircraft
diverted to the Pontiac Municipal Airport. I informed the controller of my
intentions and he terminated flight following.
My wife was unfazed by the turn of events. She understood that summer flying
meant navigating around summer storms. Stay in touch with Flight Watch and you
won’t fly into any surprises.
Out of the 6 aircraft diverted to Pontiac we were the closest to the airport
but as the only 152 in the crowd we were also the slowest and the last to
land. No surprise there.
Vicki collected her things as I tied down the airplane. To the distant north a
wall of dark clouds, with veins of lightening, moved toward us. To the south
and west there was sunshine.
Inside the terminal building there was free coffee, snacks and soda pop to
purchase, and a stack of newspapers. Vicki picked out a current issue of the
Wall Street Journal and sat down at one of the tables. Along the wall there
were a half dozen computers logged onto the weather service. Several pilots
were gathered around one computer, discussing and pointing to the red and
yellow cells moving across the screen.
Our delay lasted two hours. As the leading edge of storms passed through
Kankakee a trailing line of cells had developed. Vicki was busy with the Wall
Street Journal. For her the weather did not exist. She had her pocket
calculator out and was jotting down figures. I married a financial planner;
she married a pilot. I won that one.
Outside, the weather had finally cleared. I untied the airplane and purchased
fuel. Vicki came across the tarmac with a folded newspaper and a notebook
under her arm.
“That’s our line of flight,” I pointed. “Just north of that rainbow.”
I contacted Chicago Center and requested flight following to Coldwater,
Michigan. The sun was behind us now. The afternoon light softened. We passed
ten miles north of the Kankakee airport. It was hard to imagine violent
weather over such a pastoral sight.
As the city of
Chicago came into view from 5,500 so did the dark clouds and veins of
lightening east of the city and over Lake Michigan. To the east and southeast
of us there was hazy sunshine. Chicago Center handed us off to South Bend. Our
line of flight was east, northeast. The dark curtains of rain and occasional
lightening seemed to follow off our left wing. Flight Watch advised we fly 090
for 7 miles and then resume navigation.
At Coldwater, Memorial airport the wind was 240 at 9 under broken skies of
orange. The fuel was self serve at $1.99 a gallon. We both needed to use the
bathroom but the FBO office was locked. We taxied to the end of runway 21 and
across an empty field to the Airport Restaurant.
Leaving Coldwater we leveled off at 3,500, beneath broken clouds, with a
ground speed of 110 knots. The sun was setting on a horizon of treetops. The
GPS screen switched to night mode.
We flew past the
lights of Lansing and on toward Flint. A helicopter crossed our light of
flight, 1000 feet below us. I did not receive a “traffic advisory” from
approach and thought maybe I was off frequency. I asked for a radio check. A
young woman replied, “46212, read you loud and clear.” Vicki looked at me, as
if to say, “Let it go.”
GPS had us 8 miles from our waypoint of Caro, Michigan. The night was pitch
black. The populated areas were well to the south of us. I keyed the mike 5
times and the runway lit up like pinball machine. Strobe lights marked the
approach of runway 26. We turned base. The wind was 240 at 15 knots. As we
descended to 500 feet we flew into strong turbulence. We touched down on one
wheel.
We taxied to the FBO, tied down and removed our bags. From across the tarmac
my sister and brother-in-law drove up. My brother-in-law, a pilot and owner of
a Cessna 140, said he had been worried about us. “Been watching the Weather
Channel since this morning,” he said. “There were storms all along your route.
All day.”
“I use Flight
Following and Flight Watch,” I said. “Stay in touch with them and you can
navigate around the storms.”
My sister put her arm
around me. “It’s good to see you,” she said. “Both of you. We’ve missed you.”
Nicholas Wener
Lee's Summit, MO
N46212
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