Under the Weather at Ole Miss
Posted Sun Jul 3 10:22:57 CDT 2022
Who knew summer travel was going to be so weather-bound? I managed 1.4 hours from Starkville, and then as I was approaching Memphis on my way to Little Rock, the clouds started to close in, and landing became the only safe choice.
The morning started well enough. My sleeping arrangements in the recliner sufficiently displeased me around 1 am that I woke up enough to blow up my air mattress, so I could properly stretch out. Not the best sleep, but I was reasonably true to my goal, and was lying down to sleep a bit before 10 last night.
Good to his word, Rusty arrived just before 6 to let the plane out of the hangar, as I finished my packing and prep. We got it pulled out and I thanked him profusely for coming out so early. However, a glance at the weather caused me to delay a bit: there was a huge rainstorm bisecting my path, right over the Mississippi River. The surrounding airports were all showing low clouds, meaning that if I got to that storm and realized I needed to land, I might not be able to. Definitely not the best situation.
Inside the hangar at Starkville
So, I delayed. Lingered over my breakfast, loaded up the weather briefing a few times, and wondered how long I'd have to wait. I eventually called the weather briefer to speak to a person, which turned out to be an excellent choice. I got a briefer who was very into his subject, and I got a little lesson on local weather conditions that was quite helpful. That decided me to launch as soon as I reasonably could, and make whatever progress I could toward Little Rock.
I packed up, double-checked to make sure I didn't leave anything behind, and started out. Actual take-off conditions were more ominous than I'd been expecting, with a low broken layer in my intended direction of travel. It was clear to the northeast, I saw as I got higher, but I was going northwest.
Looking roughly west at the famous Whoopie Overstuffie clouds (a
joke for 1 person)
Off to the west, the incoming storm was clearly visible as a huge stack of tightly-bunched clouds. It reminded me of a mega-scale overstuffed armchair: just pillow after pillow of densely-packed clouds. If it were solid, it would be the most fanastic soft consistency. However, it wasn't solid, and all it was doing was being in my way. So, I headed about 30° further north than I really wanted to, so I wouldn't fly into it.
I didn't capture the map at the point of takeoff, but here's what it looks like right now. Fortunately, that big evil-looking blob southwest of UOX (which is where I am right now) isn't moving, it's just sticking there. The green stragglers around me are actually dissipating, so perhaps there's a chance I can move soon.
Continuing where we left off, I found myself skirting this huge storm to the north, a few miles away from the first smattering of clouds that defined its border. Occasionally a cloud would appear in my path, and I'd shift a little bit right or left. Generally, though, I was on my intended path, aiming for Memphis and hoping to turn west from there to Little Rock.
As I approached the Class B airspace over Memphis, I got a clearance in (which almost never happens in Seattle), so I didn't have to climb up above 10,000 feet, or drop down below 3000 to stay out of it. 10k would have been quite cold, I suspect, and 3000 and below looked pretty cloudy. I couldn't steer south of it, as there was a solid bank of cloudy doom there.
A note on being cold: since I found I was getting a bit chilled at 67° before, and I suspected it would be about the same this morning, I put on my light jacket for this flight. It was quite comfortable, good choice, me.
So, I kept flying toward Memphis. The path forward wasn't looking good, though. Towering cumulus clouds (the kind that turn into thunderstorms) were all around me, and my thus far blessedly clear 4500 foot level started to look pretty grim as well. I tried climbing, as I approached Sardis Lake, just NW of Oxford, to see if I could go over the top of the clouds that were looming just above my path, but as soon as I started to see what awaited me (a solid, solid deck of clouds, 100% definitely a terrible idea to venture over), I turned hastily around, and dropped down to fly under it.
The air warmed and got distinctly more muggy as I descended, but 3500 feet looked like it might be good for a while. It was becoming clear I'd have to land before long, but I wanted to see if I could make it into the Memphis area before I did.
However, I only went another minute or two before it became pretty obvious that I was blocked on all sides by clouds. There was still an opening below and behind me, so I spun a quick 180, and dived for it, before it could close up as well. That probably sounds more dire than it actually was, though the overcast layer I had to fly under to find the nearest airport was pretty low. The Center controller who was helping me out sounded genuinely concerned, and wouldn't let me go until I had positively identified the Oxford airport.
Fortunately, I did find it pretty easily, and made a decent, if too-fast, landing on runway 9. Taxied up to the ramp, and exchanged a quick hello with the ramp guy who came out to throw chocks around my tailwheel. Based on what I'd seen of the weather, I didn't figure I'd be leaving soon, and I didn't see any obvious hangars -- there are plenty of hangars here, but they're all private. I'm getting the impression Ole Miss is something of a richie-rich school, and this seems to be the private airport attached to the university. Anyway, I pulled out the cockpit covers and snapped them down. Hopefully I won't have to find out how waterproof they actually are. I also tied down the plane for the first time on this trip, Just In Case. I'd hate to have it picked up and damaged by high winds.
So, that's the story of how I got here. The skies are looking lighter out the window here, though it's not looking much more friendly to aviating. The clouds are still quite low, though they've changed from being overcast to being broken.
I did run this flight at 2200 RPM, to fill in the gap in my fuel consumption chart, though I haven't taken on any fuel yet, so I still only have partial data. I was pleased to find that if I let the plane fly slightly yawed (slightly less right rudder than would put it in strictly the best flying condition), the wire that was vibrating so much calmed right down, and if I snuck up on it, I could get within about a degree of perfectly level, which is close enough. I'm guessing this trick will work on other flight regiemes as well, since I discovered it yesterday at 2300 RPM. That means that for those times I can stomach the speed of a mere Norbert plus 5 MPH, I can burn a similar amount of fuel. It is still wild to me that this plane is more efficient. It's got to be the motor, because the airframe is hugely more inefficient.
It's nice to feel like I'm getting more used to the plane. The noise is less troublesome (though still objectively bad, as I'm sure this is causing damage to my hearing), the seating position seems pretty good, and it's nice to feel like I'm getting closer to good landings. I'm happy with how clear the radio is, for all that it's a very noisy environment, and happy that my own radio calls are received clearly enough to be understood.
One of the things that I've been doing is recording a time-lapse of each flight. I hope to eventually link all of them to their respective day entry, but for now, I thought you'd enjoy seeing my flight from Starkville, MS to University-Oxford, MS, this morning from about 8 am to about 9:30 am CDT.
Click here for the MP4 video file (that should start playing in any modern browser). Note that there's no sound. This view is almost exactly my eyeline height, though obviously it's offset to the left a little bit, so it doesn't block my view. It's a good view to show how little you can actually see on the ground. There's a lot of airplane in the way.
That evening...
At Oxford, I ended up borrowing the crew car to go into town. First, I had to go out to the plane for something, and had a good hard stare down the runway: that sky sure looked open. I must have stood there staring at the open-looking sky for five minutes, debating with myself, before I went back inside to call a briefer and see if I was seeing a very large sucker-hole (a sucker-hole is a hole in the clouds that various activities believe will be big enough for whatever they need to do: fly through it, see a star through it, go sailing during it, etc.). It was, in fact, a very large sucker-hole. The weather just beyond the range of vision was much worse, said the briefer. Wait, he advised, check the weather at the turn of 2 pm, see if things were improving or getting worse. The forecast was for more storm not less, though that didn't seem to be developing that quickly, but time would tell.
In any case, I went into town. Oxford is an almost frighteningly well-tended town. Every single lawn was meticulously mowed and watered. All the buildings were perfect. I found myself driving the tired old minivan with great care, as it felt like if I did anything wrong, I would be pulled over and disappeared for the great crime of exceeding the speed limit by 1 MPH. However, I made it to the supermarket without invoking the unnatural wrath of the constabulary, and picked up some food for the next day or two. I even wagered my future gastro-intestinal health on some supermarket sushi, which actually looked pretty good (and tasted pretty good too, though the GI wager hasn't had time to resolve itself quite yet).
When I got back to the airport, I checked the weather, and things had indeed improved. I looked up at the sky, and thought of my mental test from yesterday: would I go flying in this if it were for fun? I had a new dimension I needed to add to the test. Looking at this sky, no, I probably wouldn't go up at home, but on the other hand, it was a perfectly safe looking situation, and just because I'm a very fair-weather flying at home doesn't mean I'm incapable of making more finely-parsed weather decisions now. So, although I like the dummy test from yet, it's a too-blunt instrument to be completely guided by.
For, indeed, I would not have launched into that sky at home. But at home, I definitely would have launched if I were away from my home field and needed to return. There's get-there-itis, and then there's dangeorus get-there-itis. The trick is knowing the difference.
So, I decided to launch. I thought I'd try out flying with the front cockpit covered, an idea I'd had a while ago as a way to make the plane more comfortable/warmer for cold months. The front cover for this plane has battens in it, so I figured it was probably intended to be flying-strength. The only way to know the answer to the question was to do it, and if things went south, return to the ground to fix it.
As I lifted off, I was keeping an eye on the front cover. It was drumming up and down a fair amount, and I didn't much like the look of it. Then one of the snaps came loose, and that was enough for me. I banked sharply to return to the Oxford runway, where I quickly stowed the cover, and smeared a bit more sunscreen on my face, since it'd been a while.
Then I was off toward Hazen field (6M0), where there was improbably cheap gas listed on Airnav. I swear I looked at the listing multiple times, and saw that it was updated on June 30th, so it seemed like a good bet that they just had a good deal or a loss leader or something.
The trip to get there felt pretty routine. I returned to 2200 RPM to round out the fuel efficiency test. I was definitely able to get that landing wire to stop vibrating by flying a little differently, and practiced doing that.
Landing at Hazen, it looked like a working airstrip: tanks and filling equipment spoke of its agricultural use patterns. But there at the end of the ramp was the fuel pump, so I rolled up. After dragging out the grounding wire, I finally registered that something about the pump was weird. There was a piece of white paper taped over its display. I got closer, and realized that it said, very very faintly, Out of Order. Arg.
I saw that there was a pilot's lounge advertised off to the side, and I needed to use the bathroom, so I headed over. Inside was a dated room with a couple leather sofas, but the AC was cranked up, and it felt pretty nice. I took a moment to look up other fuel sources, and the next airport 5 miles away (Carlisle, 4M3) had a decent if not amazing price, so I got back in the plane and headed over. I only registered 0.2 hours for that flight, the two airports are so close together.
Fortunately Carlisle had a working pump, and I tanked up Mabel? Florence? Something like that, the name is still percolating. I also saw that the oil was getting low. The reading was confused, seeming to show the engine was down to 3 quarts? Or 4? That shouldn't have been possible: the plane wasn't covered in oil from a leak, and it seemed very improbable that it would have burned up that fast, given the previous rate of consumption of about .1 quart per hour. It was at about 5.4 quarts from the previous flight, and had been dropping very consistently. Fortunately, the oil level should be well settled when next I check it.
The next leg, from Carlisle to North Little Rock (ORK), went quickly, and before long I was descending into the traffic pattern. It was late, 7 pm by the time I shut down the engine, and it sure didn't look like there was anywhere to find a hangar for the night. So, I pulled out the tiedown ropes, and prepared to leave the plane out to the tender mercies of the weather.
I'd been communicating with my friend this whole time -- Amelia and I know each other from Twitter, where we're both part of the surprisingly friendly and lovely tabletop roleplaying game communinity (I think of Twitter as generally being a cesspool of trolls and people dunking on each other for microfame, which this little corner is almost completely free from). Little Rock seemed like a sufficiently small diversion from my contemplated path that it would be worth trying to meet up in person. Plus, she's got a cool aviation name (thinking of Amelia Earhart, in this case).
She was awaiting me at the airport, and I wandered through the little flight office slash pilot's lounge area to find her walking toward me across the parking lot. We said hi, and I brought her back to the plane, where we had the slightly awkward conversation of two people who've been communicating in 280 character snippets for the last year.
She was duly impressed by the plane, and I slowly unpacked all the stuff from the plane prepartory to going off to find a hotel. I decided that, since tomorrow is the 4th of July, it would be pointless to try traveling with any expectation of finding a hangar at the end of the day. I'd been striving to get to Little Rock for long enough that it feels like a nice reward to stay for a day, anyway. Not sitting in that tailbone-bending seat will be a good change.
As we were talking, a gent came up to say hi, and I asked him if he knew of anywhere I could get hangar space for a couple days. He said, "Well, actually..." and offered that he had space available, but, he warned ominously, it would be eight dollars a night. I just paid $25 for one night at Starkville, so this sounded like a sweet deal to me. I loaded all my stuff into Amelia's car (having a moment realizing that I was very trustingly putting all my proverbial eggs into one basket, with a person I'd never met before -- online friendships are an odd mix of very close and very incomplete), and taxied the plane down to Jack's hangar (where, again, I'm trusting my plane to a complete stranger; this trip is doing wonders for my general trust in humans, so often eroded by the never-ending wave of hatred and dissent in the news).
And so I went off with Amelia and we had a good conversation over dinner, hitting a variety of topics we have in common. It was really nice to talk with her in person, and we have tenative and fairly vague plans to meet up in the afternoon tomorrow, since I'm spending the day here.
Now, I find myself in another hotel. It would be unremarkable, except that I managed to leave my phone charging cable in the plane. I don't have a car, unless I want to take a taxi out there, which seems silly for a USB-C cable that should be findable at any convenience store.
Speaking of power cables, I noticed that the "power outlet" circuit breaker in the plane was tripped. Not sure what's up with that. I reset it, but I'll have to keep an eye on it. I just noticed a moment ago that the tablet (on which I'm doing all this writing) isn't charging well either, apparently needing pressure on the cable to maintain a connection. Power issues all around. Hopefully this doesn't develop into a bigger problem.
I'll leave off here, since it's already past midnight, and I was feeling like I just wanted to fall over by 10:30. I can deal with everything else in the morning, after I've had a decent night's sleep and a complementary breakfast.
Copyright © 2022 by Ian Johnston.