Snow

The first two days of a three-day trip have been routine. Clear skies, good visibilities and relatively warm for this time of year around these parts. Heaven.

I've been living out of a hotel, filling in for a vacationing pilot whose normal run begins out in the Dakotas, comes home and finishes back out in the hinterlands.

Two days of being spoiled is enough though and I wake up to a snowstorm on day three.

By departure time that afternoon it has stopped snowing, at least where I am. The storm is moving East though, toward home, which means I will spend my evening chasing the tail-end.

Sure enough my first stop, a mere 30 minutes away, is still getting hammered and so begins my own personal version of Groundhog Day.

Launch, fly an approach through the snow, land, walk around smashing ice off the airplane, launch again, fly an approach through the snow, land, smash ice off the airplane.

I briefly consider flying the ILS into Marshall to shave some time off of the trip but prudence trumps expediency. The ILS approach is almost directly lined up with my route of flight but would mean landing with a 20-knot tailwind. Even though the runway is long, that would be dumb enough on a good day. With a snow-covered runway it could easily wind up with me sliding off the far end, which is a poor way to finish a flight.

Instead I elect to fly over the airport, turn around and fly an approach into the wind. All of this adds time but tonight it's the right thing to do.

By the time I'm down safely in Marshall, my penultimate stop for the night, I'm behind schedule. Not helping matters, while the runways are fairly clear the taxiways are sheets of ice covered with snow.

Creeping along to keep the trusty 310 from sliding into the snowdrifts eats up more time. It's a dance of brakes, aileron deflections and differential power to counteract the howling wind that is conspiring to send me sliding off into the drifts. I have never taxied so slowly in my life nor worked so hard doing so.

The ramp hasn't seen a plow and is covered in snow. I try to avoid the deepest spots and eventually get to my parking spot, shut down, smash ice off the wings, tail, nose, tip tanks and a few other spots then run inside to check that the weather at home is good enough that it is legal for me to depart.

It is, although not by much. Back in the airplane, engines running, I call Flight Service to amend my flight plan with an alternate, required on a night like tonight. This is an exercise that almost never goes well.

Tonight is no exception. The Flight Service briefer who takes my amended flight plan can't issue me a clearance so I hang up and call the dedicated clearance number. Normally I depart VFR and pick up my clearances in the air directly from Minneapolis Center but tonight the weather means that's not an option.

The Flight Service briefer who is supposed to issue me a clearance can't. Turns out he can't find my flight plan, which seems to happen more times than not when we call to amend our canned flight plans with an alternate because of the weather. I give him the vitals as he enters a new flight plan for me then there is more bad news.

An airplane is on an approach to my airport and until it lands I can't leave. This is normal at smaller airports without a control tower. It's strictly a one-in, one-out system and until the inbound aircraft has landed, contacted ATC and cancelled their IFR flight plan nobody gets to leave, at least not under IFR.

As we're talking, an airplane swoops in and lands. Trying to get back a few minutes I let Flight Service know. This doesn't work either.

The briefer asks for the tail number, or at least the aircraft type. I explain that I'm sitting on the ground in a snowstorm, at night and all I know for sure is that somebody just landed. No joy on my outbound clearance then so I hang up and promise to call back in a few minutes.

It's a good system, despite the communication difficulties. I don't want to launch unless the airspace is clear of traffic and the only way to know that for certain is for the aircraft on approach to call and let ATC know they're safely on the ground.

While I'm sitting there my cellphone rings. It is the courier company wondering if they are going to see me that night. “I hope so,” I tell them. “If I wasn't on the phone talking to you I could be picking up my clearance and getting the hell out of there.” The message is received.

Finally, after 30 minutes of sitting on the ground with the engines turning I have a clearance. By now it is not snowing as heavily but the wind is still howling. I tiptoe out through the drifts and across the icy taxiways, line up and launch.

Finally headed home, the flight is more of the same although I am no longer picking up ice. It is busy and I'm number five for the airport.

Another approach and I smile slightly when approach control informs me I'm 20 knots faster than the jet ahead of me in the gloom. I may be late, flying a clapped out piston twin in a snowstorm but at least I'm going faster than the fancy bizjet full of the latest and greatest avionics somewhere ahead of me on the approach. I love this job.

The runway is covered in snow and despite my best effort to slam the airplane down - normal on a contaminated runway to get the wheels through the gunk and onto pavement where they can do some good – I wind up with a greaser. Gotta love the ego-soothing effects of having a nice soft cushion to land on.

I'm an hour late, not good, but I'm home safely. It's just been one of those nights.