30 Below
It is the coldest night of the winter so far. Hopefully it will only be warmer from now on although I doubt it.
Sioux Falls, SD, lies behind me. Ahead is home. In between there is the cold.
My friend the moon is rising. Unlike the spectacularly abstract crimson moon rises of fall this one is a brilliant white and sharply defined. It is also rising well to the south of the last moonrise I observed from my meager altitude and I marvel at what a difference a few months makes.
The heater, freshly serviced that morning and duly noted in the aircraft discrepancy log as “ops check good”, simply cannot keep up with the thick, frigid, 180-knot blast. Tepid air flows through the cabin, heating it only to the point that I can barely see my breath.
The temperature outside is -30 degrees centigrade. -22 degrees Fahrenheit then. Amazingly, it is only 3 degrees colder at 7,000 feet than it was on the ground in Sioux Falls. These are the brutal days of winter in the upper Midwest.
I prepared as best I could. Thermal underwear, thick wool socks, layers of wool and fleece and nylon but I am still cold.
I pull on my hat and wriggle my toes to keep the blood flowing. The hat has the pleasant side-effect of pushing my headphones a little tighter against my ears and reducing the din in the cabin ever so slightly.
It has been 10 weeks since I've sat in an airplane. Surgery, rehab, doctor visits and more rehab are slowly returning my ankle to normal. With my doctor's blessing I can work the left brake again with confidence but there remains a long way to go.
My company held my spot open, no easy task for such a small operation, which made recovering that much easier knowing I had a job waiting for my return.
I still must rely on a thick Velcro-laden boot to walk and clamber into and out of the airplane but once inside my security blanket can be removed, replaced with a normal shoe, so I can work the pedals normally.
I am getting to know the 310 again. 10 weeks ago I could fly it without thinking but 10 weeks is a long time to be away and by my standards I am rusty.
Approaching home I push the nose over to descend and the airspeed builds. There is no hope for the heater now and sub-freezing air fills the cabin.
There is nothing to be done about it except carefully pull the throttles back, reducing the manifold pressure a scant 1 inch every minute to avoid shock-cooling the motors and gently slow down.
The poor engines. The left one barely started leaving for Sioux Falls earlier that evening then nearly quit in cruise as I leaned it to my usual summer fuel flow without thinking. Silly me, I should have known better. In this cold, dense air the engines need more fuel to run properly.
The upside is the airplane performance is fantastic. The engines can easily produce full power while the wings and props bite greedily into the thick air.
The lights of home base beckon. Slowed to approach speed the heater is quickly warming the cabin, much to my relief. My landing is firm as I haven't quite gotten the proper sight picture back, but better than I have a right to expect.
As I shut down the couriers quickly unload my freight. It is a light run, maybe 50 pounds of cargo. Normally I open the cockpit door to exchange pleasantries, but it is simply too cold and I need to conserve every lingering bit of heat to strap on my brace, write down the times and pack my belongings.
The night has gone well, despite the cold. I am a fortunate person.
It is good to be back on the line.
Sioux Falls, SD, lies behind me. Ahead is home. In between there is the cold.
My friend the moon is rising. Unlike the spectacularly abstract crimson moon rises of fall this one is a brilliant white and sharply defined. It is also rising well to the south of the last moonrise I observed from my meager altitude and I marvel at what a difference a few months makes.
The heater, freshly serviced that morning and duly noted in the aircraft discrepancy log as “ops check good”, simply cannot keep up with the thick, frigid, 180-knot blast. Tepid air flows through the cabin, heating it only to the point that I can barely see my breath.
The temperature outside is -30 degrees centigrade. -22 degrees Fahrenheit then. Amazingly, it is only 3 degrees colder at 7,000 feet than it was on the ground in Sioux Falls. These are the brutal days of winter in the upper Midwest.
I prepared as best I could. Thermal underwear, thick wool socks, layers of wool and fleece and nylon but I am still cold.
I pull on my hat and wriggle my toes to keep the blood flowing. The hat has the pleasant side-effect of pushing my headphones a little tighter against my ears and reducing the din in the cabin ever so slightly.
It has been 10 weeks since I've sat in an airplane. Surgery, rehab, doctor visits and more rehab are slowly returning my ankle to normal. With my doctor's blessing I can work the left brake again with confidence but there remains a long way to go.
My company held my spot open, no easy task for such a small operation, which made recovering that much easier knowing I had a job waiting for my return.
I still must rely on a thick Velcro-laden boot to walk and clamber into and out of the airplane but once inside my security blanket can be removed, replaced with a normal shoe, so I can work the pedals normally.
I am getting to know the 310 again. 10 weeks ago I could fly it without thinking but 10 weeks is a long time to be away and by my standards I am rusty.
Approaching home I push the nose over to descend and the airspeed builds. There is no hope for the heater now and sub-freezing air fills the cabin.
There is nothing to be done about it except carefully pull the throttles back, reducing the manifold pressure a scant 1 inch every minute to avoid shock-cooling the motors and gently slow down.
The poor engines. The left one barely started leaving for Sioux Falls earlier that evening then nearly quit in cruise as I leaned it to my usual summer fuel flow without thinking. Silly me, I should have known better. In this cold, dense air the engines need more fuel to run properly.
The upside is the airplane performance is fantastic. The engines can easily produce full power while the wings and props bite greedily into the thick air.
The lights of home base beckon. Slowed to approach speed the heater is quickly warming the cabin, much to my relief. My landing is firm as I haven't quite gotten the proper sight picture back, but better than I have a right to expect.
As I shut down the couriers quickly unload my freight. It is a light run, maybe 50 pounds of cargo. Normally I open the cockpit door to exchange pleasantries, but it is simply too cold and I need to conserve every lingering bit of heat to strap on my brace, write down the times and pack my belongings.
The night has gone well, despite the cold. I am a fortunate person.
It is good to be back on the line.
posted by Will at 12:01 PM
3 Comments:
I'm glad that you are flying again and, as always, I appreciate the details of "real world flying" in your posts.
I just stumbled across this while browsing through the net and its really enjoyable to read. Keep up with the posts. Also you said you fly out of MIC, that wouldnt happen to be N5096C in the background of your pic would it?
Hi Matt,
Nope, that's 6027C, our 182RG, in the background.
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