Frozen

One of the disadvantages of being an independent instructor is the lack of proper briefing space before a lesson.

In the summer it's not a big deal because it's easy to improvise in the hangar.

In the winter, it's miserable.

If you recall the theories outlined in the Fundamentals of Instructing, a student's physical needs must be met before they can learn.

In practice, that means students can't learn if they're on the verge of hypothermia. Not surprisingly, instructors can't teach if they're freezing to death either.

Today was one of those days. By the time I arrived at 9 a.m. for an instrument lesson my student had the hangar open and the pre-flight completed. The wind was howling and the air temperature was -14C.

I said a quiet "thank you" that he was done with the pre-flight inspection since I make it a point to freeze or bake with my students. I just can't bring myself to sit in a car while my client is outside battling the elements.

I'll probably get over that once I've gotten frostbite once too often, but for now it's a matter of stubborn pride I guess.

We went over the flight in his car, which wasn't optimal but it was better than trying to spend more than a few minutes standing around outside.

I'd gone back and forth about what to do before I left the house in the morning. The forecast was for VFR with occasional MVFR between Crystal and St. Cloud due to restricted visibilities. I wanted to stay out of the clouds to avoid any potential icing but I knew that if we wanted to fly approaches we'd probably have to get close to the bases, perhaps even into them.

I checked the Forecast Icing Potential widget (http://adds.aviationweather.gov/icing/) and it was only showing a small chance of icing along our route. There were no pireps for icing in the area and I reasoned that it was cold enough that any moisture we might find would be in the form of ice crystals.

Plus, the ceilings were broken and the layers fairly thin, maybe 1,000 feet maximum.

Putting all that together I guessed we wouldn't run into any icing and decided to file IFR to St. Cloud and back to Crystal. My plan was to avoid actually flying into the clouds and therefore avoid running afoul of the FAAs interpretation of "Known Icing Conditions," which is basically visible moisture or high humidity and temperatures near or below freezing.

In other words, the FAA says if you fly into a cloud during the winter (at least here in the upper midwest) you've flown into known icing conditions. Since our 172 isn't approved for flight into known icing, well, we need to stay out of the clouds.

I'm on the fence about the FAAs definition of known icing.

For one, icing is one of those deals that need to be avoided in anything from a Cub to a 747. It's bad mojo and especially bad for airplanes. Sure, the big Boeing has plenty of power and excellent de-icing equipment, but I'd bet that any 747 pilot will tell you that if they start picking up ice they're going to do whatever it takes to get out of it, as they should.

Since I plan on dying in bed on my 100th birthday, shot dead by the jealous husband of the nude starlet next to me, I'm not going to mess around with ice in a puny 172.

Anything that keeps people away from taking icing casually is a good thing.

But the reality is the by the FAA definition virtually any IFR flying in the winter can't happen, at least not in anything not approved for flight into known icing, which our 172 most certainly is not.

Experience and judgment gets left out of the FAAs interpretation. Maybe that's a good thing, but I'm not so sure.

So the call that made the most sense was to file IFR, do everything possible to stay out of the clouds and get on with the business of teaching instrument flying.

It worked out just fine and although we wound up going through some clouds while being vectored for the ILS 31, and then again while being vectored back into Crystal, there was no ice to be found.

The trip was beautiful. Above the broken layer the visibilities were unrestricted. Below, they varied between virtually unrestricted and just a few miles in floating ice crystals.



I'm still awed by the sights on hand as you fly a small airplane through canyons of clouds.

My student did a fine job on the ILS while I sat in the right seat slowly freezing to death. Even with the heat on full little more than a tepid flow of air came from the heater, it was just too cold.

By the time we got back to Crystal I was right and truly cold and miserable. We parked, started our cars to get the heaters going then pushed the airplane back into the hangar.

After that we debriefed in the standard independent flight instructor's winter office: A car with the heater on full blast.