Winter Wanderland

Yet for a number of pilots up in the north country, winter offers what they consider some of the best flying of the year. When the runways get covered with snow and the temperatures drop below the freezing mark, they simply exchange their airplane wheels for skis, pack up their engine heating systems, and head out for what they term "the most fun they've ever had flying."

Loren Schiebe, for example, has been ski flying since 1954. In his home state of Minnesota, winter weather can endure for up to six months and temperatures can drop well below zero. Forty years ago, there were also many places in the state that were difficult or impossible to reach by road, especially during the winter, so airplanes equipped with skis often provided the best alternative for reaching remote locations. Schiebe estimates that in the early 1950s, as many as 30 to 40 percent of the airplanes in Minnesota had skis for winter flying. The advent of better roads and snowmobiles has reduced that number over the years, but there are still a number of airplane owners who go ski flying just for the fun of it.

Although he has flown a number of different skiplanes over the years, Schiebe now uses a 1946 Taylorcraft BC-12D for his wintertime adventures. During the milder months, he keeps it at Crystal Airport, in a suburb of Minneapolis. But when the lakes freeze, he outfits it with Federal 1500 skis and moors it right outside his house on a lake west of the metropolitan area.

Schiebe has a close-knit circle of friends who have been flying taildraggers, floatplanes, and skiplanes together for years, and several of them also use the lake by his house as their winter base. Last year, Schiebe's Taylorcraft was joined by Mickey Finn's 1947 Cessna 140 and Roger Sizer's 1948 Stinson 108-3. Bob Eckstein keeps his Piper PA-11 Cub Special in his hangar at Crystal Airport, but he joins Schiebe, Finn, and Sizer for the fly-outs they organize almost every weekend, weather permitting. Eckstein can continue to operate out of an airport because his airplane is equipped with hydraulically operated wheel/skis that are the winter equivalent of amphibious floats.

One of the biggest appeals of ski flying, according to all four pilots, is that it allows them a measure of freedom and flexibility unmatched by any other kind of flying. To a ski pilot, virtually any snow-covered field or frozen lake is a potential landing spot, although lakes are preferable because they are smoother and can be used without obtaining anyone's permission. This means that when winter comes to Minnesota, the land of 10,000 lakes becomes the land of 10,000 ideal landing strips. In addition to simply offering a wide variety of landing spots, many of the lakes are large enough for pilots to land and take off in any direction, making crosswind landings rare, and they frequently provide pilots with a landing area several miles long.

With that kind of freedom, Schiebe and his friends say the fun they can have with their airplanes is almost limitless. They have flown up to the Canadian wilderness in search of the perfect ice fishing spot, and have gone on weekend camping trips to lakeside cabins owned by individual members of the group. Shorter trips often take them to breakfast or lunch at restaurants that, for a change, do not have to be near an airport. And sometimes, they just get in the airplanes and go exploring.

"It's kind of fun to make a day of it," says Eckstein. "I like to fly out and check on my cabin, have lunch, land on a couple of lakes, maybe watch some ice racing, fly around a while, and then head home." (Ice races, for anyone not from the northernmost states, are motorcycle or car races held on a cleared oval ice track on a frozen take.)

There is also a particular kind of beauty to the world on a clear, crisp winter day when the evergreens are flocked with snow, the sky is a brilliant blue, and the sun's reflection off the white ground cover is so bright it's almost blinding. One of the many rewards of ski flying, according to Schiebe, is the chance to experience that beauty from a unique perspective. He remembers one trip to Canada where he practiced slow flight for eight or nine miles down a long lake, below the tops of the trees. "It was absolutely beautiful," he recalls, "and it was absolutely safe."

Skiplanes allow pilots access to remote lakes, where the snow is still pristine and unmarked, and the powder is sometimes so soft that a passenger will not even be aware that the airplane has touched down until it begins to slow to a stop. In addition, snow cover makes it easy to s pot wildlife from the air, and Schiebe has seen deer, moose, and even wolves from his airplane.

All these rewards come at a price, however. Ski flying is, without question, a lot more work than simply rolling the airplane out of a hangar on a sunny summer afternoon. Beautiful wilderness lakes do not offer any airplane services, so ski pilots have to learn to be self-sufficient. Even at Schiebe's lake, the group's members must provide their own fuel and, depending on the length of the flight, sometimes have to carry extra gas with them. Tiedowns have to be drilled into the ice. And just getting the airplanes started on a bitterly cold winter morning can be a tremendous task.

The men have gone flying in temperatures as low as 30 degrees below zero, although they try to avoid weather colder than 10 below. Ski pilots joke about being able to do chin-ups on their propellers on bitterly cold mornings, so engine preheating is essential. If Schiebe, Finn, and Sizer are planning a day trip, they are usually at the take by dawn to start the preheating process.

Schiebe has a small electric heater he can put inside the cowling of his Taylorcraft to warm the engine, but Finn and Sizer rely primarily on propane-powered heaters hooked to lengths of stovepipe that direct the heat inside the cowlings. Preheating takes anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour, depending on how cold it is. Even after the engines are warm, the heating process is not necessarily over for the day. If the group makes a brief stop anywhere, they can keep their engines warm by covering the cowlings with insulated blankets. If they are going to stay anywhere for more than an hour or two, however, they have to bring a propane heater with them to warm the engines up again.

While the engines are being preheated, the men clear any snow, frost, or ice off the wings and tail surfaces. In order to keep the oil temperature warm enough for operation once the airplane is started, they also use tape or metal engine baffles to block the cooling inlets in the cowling. Keeping the air inside the cabin warm, however, is even more of a challenge.

Schiebe carries extra foam pieces for added insulation, and Finn rigged a tube from his cabin heat system up through the ashtray in the Cessna 140's glareshield to help keep the windscreen defrosted, but it is still cold in the airplanes. The group's standard flying gear includes several layers of socks and long underwear, heavy winter boots, Air Force surplus insulated clothing or snowmobile suits, and sometimes face masks. "The hardest part is just getting in the airplane with all this gear on," Finn jokes.

Starting the airplanes also presents some unusual challenges. Eckstein and Schiebe have no electrical systems on their aircraft. Sizer and Finn both have electrical systems with starters, but in very cold weather, it is often necessary to hand-prop all four airplanes. This can be tricky, because skis have no brakes. Eckstein still remembers the time he hand-propped his airplane and then found himself having to run after it and jump aboard while it was moving.

More often, however, the problem is getting the skis to break loose from the snow and ice. The skis get warm from taxiing, and the snow will usually melt and then freeze underneath them when the airplane is parked. For overnights, ski pilots try to park their airplanes on pieces of wood, but on shorter stops, they often need to have someone rock the wings while they push and pull on the yoke and apply almost full power to get the airplane to move from its parking spot.

Ski flying does not require a rating or endorsement above single engine land privileges, but there are some special handling techniques ski pilots have to learn. Taxiing, for example, is more difficult in an airplane with no brakes. Small-radius turns are impossible, and some pilots keep a rope tied to the tail of the aircraft to assist in turning the airplane by hand in tight quarters.

Because deep snow piles up in front of the skis, sometimes making it difficult to get the airplane moving, pilots learn to taxi around in a circle before they stop and then park in their own track. This gives them a clear, packed path they can use to get the airplane moving fast enough to keep from getting bogged down in the deep snow. At a fast enough speed, skiplanes will eventually get "on the step" on top of the snow, just as seaplanes do on the water, reducing the drag on the skis enough that the pilot can taxi through the snow and lift off.

One advantage to the cold temperatures ski pilots realize is that their aircraft performance is enhanced significantly, allowing quick takeoffs and impressive climb rates. On landing, however, they have to carry more power to keep the engine from quitting in the cold temperatures. Finn, for example, never reduces the power on his Cessna 140's Continental C-90 engine below 1,200 rpm until he is ready to touch down.

Finn, Sizer, and Schiebe assert that landing on skis is easier than wheels, because the snow and skis are much more forgiving. Once the airplane touches down, however, keeping it straight can sometimes be a challenge, especially in icy conditions. The rudder provides the only directional control, and skis are not immune from skidding on icy surfaces. Fortunately, most lakes allow lots of room for error.

Furthermore, although skiplanes do not have to contend with the boats, jet skis, and swimmers that may get in the way of floatplane pilots in the summer, they do have their own unique set of obstacles to avoid. Instead of jet skis, there are snowmobilers, whose helmets, goggles, and heavy gear prevent them from seeing or hearing an approaching airplane. And instead of boats, there are ice houses-small wooden structures not much bigger than outhouses that many people use to protect themselves from the elements while they go ice fishing.

Although ice houses are at least stationary, they are sometimes so plentiful that a lake can appear from the air to have an entire city built on the middle of its frozen surface. And on days when the temperature reaches a balmy 25 degrees or so above zero, a frozen lake can look like a town picnic, with people barbecuing outside their ice houses, dogs running around, and snowmobilers racing all over the ice.

Not surprisingly, therefore, Schiebe and his friends strongly recommend dragging a potential landing spot first at low altitude to check not only for ice houses and snowmobilers, but also low wires and poor ice conditions. One of the biggest hazards, especially early or late in the season, is slush, which can leave a skiplane unable to take off from the ice again. "You learn to read the snow conditions from the air," Finn explains. "You look for snowmobile tracks or roads on the ice, and if they're dark, it means there's slush there, and you don't land."

If no tracks are available, Eckstein adds, a pilot can do a quick touch and go and fly back over the airplane's tracks to see if slush is present.

An equally great hazard for ski pilots is the possibility of a "whiteout." On gray, overcast days, or in any low-light condition, it can become almost impossible for a pilot to distinguish between the snow and the air above it. One solution is to land next to an ice house or the shoreline to obtain some visual reference points. If pilots know the conditions are conducive to a white-out, they will sometimes even carry evergreen branches with them to toss on the ice to give an area enough depth and definition for a safe landing. If neither of these options is possible, ski pilots recommend the same technique used by floatplane pilots for "glassy water" landings. Set up a shallow, slightly nose-high descent at a constant airspeed, and hold that attitude and speed until the airplane touches down in the snow.

Schiebe and the others also try to avoid flying alone, especially in remote areas where help for an emergency landing could be a long time arriving. But they don't consider that a drawback because one of the reasons they like ski flying is because it gives them something to do as a group during the winter.

Although Schiebe, Finn, Sizer, and Eckstein all fly vintage taildraggers, most general aviation aircraft can be fitted with skis, according to Wipaire, Incorporated, which manufactures not only aircraft ski kits, but also the well-known Wipline floats. For example, the entire line of Cessna single-engine airplanes, from a 150 to a 206, can be put on skis, as well as every Piper airplane from a J-3 Cub up to a PA-32 Cherokee Six. The advantage a taildragger offers is simply more prop clearance in snow or uneven ice conditions.

Skis can be either straightforward "wheel replacement skis," like Schiebe, Finn. and Sizer have, or hydraulic wheel/skis such as those Eckstein uses on his Piper. Wheel replacement skis have the advantage of being cheaper ($3,500 to $7,500 new, or as little as $500 to $1,000 used), but they restrict a pilot to only snow- or ice-covered landing surfaces. Hydraulic wheel/skis allow wheel landings on asphalt runways and ski landings on snow or ice surfaces, but they are heavier and have more parts to maintain. They are also significantly more expensive. Hydraulic wheel/skis cost an average of $14,000 to $15,000 new, according to Wipaire.

To some, paying several hundred or several thousand dollars for equipment that allows you to bundle up in four layers of clothing, trudge out onto a frozen lake at dawn to preheat your engine, and spend the day or weekend flying in sub-zero temperatures might seem a little ludicrous. But to Schiebe, Finn, Sizer, and Eckstein, it's the best investment they've ever made.

Lane E. Wallace, AOPA 896621, is an aviation writer and private pilot who has been flying for more than seven years. She owns a 1946 Cessna 120 and is restoring a 1943 Stearman.