(unknown)November 4, 2016, 2:10pm
It was a clear day in North Georgia, so I invited a friend Yad (rhymes with Todd – his parents are Chinese and we joke that he was “Made in America from imported components”) to go flying in another friend’s AA-1A. We arrived at the airport 40 minutes later to find excellent conditions. Calm winds, clear blue skies, and pretty much unlimited visibility. I figured the ultralight guys would be out, but they were nowhere to be found. I got the plane ready, did my pre-flight, and we hopped in. As I taxied out to the runway with the canopy wide open to enjoy the wonderful weather, I kept hearing a weird noise. Kind of a grinding/scraping noise. In a flash, I leaned out the engine to shut it off, and told my buddy to hold down the brakes while I jumped out. I ran to the front of the plane and sure enough, there was the [expletive deleted] tow-bar. I cursed myself for being a moron, then got back in the plane, tucked the tow-bar in its special pocket behind my seat, and re-stared the engine.
A few minutes later we were off to the races, barreling down the runway for an easy take-off and climb out. My buddy and I were chatting away as we headed east and after a few minutes Yad looked down and said, “Is that fog?” I looked down and saw… nothing. Just a smooth blanked of whitish-gray cloud on the ground. It took a few minutes for me to realize what had happened. An inversion layer was holding smoke from some forest fires against the ground. Down at ground level it was about the same as a humid Georgia afternoon (which I have learned is “unlimited visibility” down here). Up in the air, the sunlight reflected off the smoke layer, completely obscuring the ground.
“Dude,” I said, “Time to go back to the barn.” It was too bad really, because the air was so darn smooth! I began my turn back to the west, expecting to see the airport off my left wing. Nothing. No runway, no hangars, no beacon. I could see landmarks (mountains), so I knew I was mostly in the right place, but I could not see the airport. With actual mountains in the area, I could not just fly low and look around.
I became aware of how quiet it was in the cockpit. My idiot buddy had figured out things were not going so well, and had gone uncharacteristically silent. I figured we still had several hours’ worth of fuel, so there was no need to hit the panic button, but I was a little concerned. Finally, I had a good idea. I reached over and turned on the loran (replaced by a GPS a few years ago). It came on, found a coupe transmitters, and figured out where we were. I put in the airport ID and followed the arrow home. Once I got down to pattern altitude I could see the runway again and made a really nice landing – too bad no one saw it.
The take-away here is that if the ultralight guys are not around, it’s time to start asking questions… and also the "remove tow-bar prior to taxi" thing (oddly, NOT on the checklist)
A few minutes later we were off to the races, barreling down the runway for an easy take-off and climb out. My buddy and I were chatting away as we headed east and after a few minutes Yad looked down and said, “Is that fog?” I looked down and saw… nothing. Just a smooth blanked of whitish-gray cloud on the ground. It took a few minutes for me to realize what had happened. An inversion layer was holding smoke from some forest fires against the ground. Down at ground level it was about the same as a humid Georgia afternoon (which I have learned is “unlimited visibility” down here). Up in the air, the sunlight reflected off the smoke layer, completely obscuring the ground.
“Dude,” I said, “Time to go back to the barn.” It was too bad really, because the air was so darn smooth! I began my turn back to the west, expecting to see the airport off my left wing. Nothing. No runway, no hangars, no beacon. I could see landmarks (mountains), so I knew I was mostly in the right place, but I could not see the airport. With actual mountains in the area, I could not just fly low and look around.
I became aware of how quiet it was in the cockpit. My idiot buddy had figured out things were not going so well, and had gone uncharacteristically silent. I figured we still had several hours’ worth of fuel, so there was no need to hit the panic button, but I was a little concerned. Finally, I had a good idea. I reached over and turned on the loran (replaced by a GPS a few years ago). It came on, found a coupe transmitters, and figured out where we were. I put in the airport ID and followed the arrow home. Once I got down to pattern altitude I could see the runway again and made a really nice landing – too bad no one saw it.
The take-away here is that if the ultralight guys are not around, it’s time to start asking questions… and also the "remove tow-bar prior to taxi" thing (oddly, NOT on the checklist)