Never Again

An original "Never Again" story is published each month on AOPA Online ( www.aopa.org/pilot/never_again/).

Thunderstorms can be dangerous, especially when you fly a light aircraft into them. I was a student pilot who had just soloed after five months of off-and-on instruction in the northernmost portion of New York in the small town of Potsdam. The town is just big enough to support two colleges and a single-strip airport surrounded by lots of Class G airspace. Cold, snow, and flocks of Canada geese are the norm one-half hour from the Canadian border. Thunderstorms materializing from 100-degree heat just don't happen up here.

When my duties as a military recruiter sent me to a professional development school at Fort Jackson, South Carolina, I was determined not to let the summer heat and humidity of the south stop my flight training. Not far from Fort Jackson is Columbia Owens Downtown Airport. It's three miles east of Columbia Metropolitan, three miles south of downtown Columbia, and only 10 minutes from temporary housing on Fort Jackson. After three area orientation flights with a flight instructor I was ready for my first southern solo into Class C airspace.

I took off in a Cessna 150 from Runway 1 on a beautifully hot June day. It was 101 degrees and muggy with scattered clouds at 5,000 feet and very little wind. On my way to 2,500 feet I contacted Columbia Approach and informed them of my intention to head for the training area north of the city. Approach control gave me a transponder code and warned me of "weather" about 10 miles to the northwest but couldn't tell me the strength or content of that weather. I told the controller I would keep my eye on it and proceeded to the training area. After two practice stalls and recoveries this weather was taking up more and more of my windshield and local turbulence was starting to build. Time to go home, I thought. The weather had moved in a southeasterly direction and was directly between Columbia Owens Downtown Airport and me. I contacted Approach and informed them I was terminating the flight and asked for a vector directly back to Owens. The response was to fly a heading of 180 degrees. Being anxious to land I followed the course, which took me straight into the weather mass. It looked like a cloud to me, but it could as easily have been fog or mist or light rain.

When I entered this mass at 3,000 feet I immediately knew I had goofed — I had just entered the outskirts of a thunderstorm. Visibility was only to the propeller, and the noise of the heavy rain on the aircraft was deafening. Instant panic. The storm was creating havoc on the ground, and my instructor was on the phone with Approach informing them I was a student pilot on my first local solo flying around in the storm. Pay attention, stay cool, easy turn, fly the plane. I remembered my instruction manual saying the best way out of a mess is a 180-degree turn. I started using my compass and artificial horizon. Stay calm, watch the turn indicator, stay calm, easy turn. Blue sky! When I exited the storm I was level with good airspeed, but I was 750 feet closer to the ground. The storm had forced me down at a rate of 1,000 to 2,000 feet per minute.

What would have happened if I'd tried to stick it out? I contacted the controller, informed him of the storm's severity, and asked for a vector around it, which he gave me.

At two miles out,"Approach handed me over to Owens unicom. The storm was now east of the airport, creating a 90-degree crosswind on Runway 1. I attempted a normal landing by putting in 20 degrees of flaps and slowing to 65 kt for final. Another mistake. The crosswind was creating the strongest turbulence I had ever experienced. Ten feet above the deck to 30 feet, and then back to 10. I added full power and reduced flaps to 10 degrees — time to get some altitude. The winds were screaming across the runway at 20 kt gusting to 40 kt.

The winds in the pattern were still gusty even with the storm rapidly moving east. On my second approach: no flaps, higher airspeed, right aileron, left rudder. I flew the airplane to a textbook crosswind landing.

My flight instructor was waiting for me on the ramp when I taxied back and shut down the airplane. After he shook my hand for bringing the 150 back in one piece, we went over the chain of events. Thunderstorms in the south can spring up fast in the high heat and humidity. This storm grew from two miles to seven miles across in 20 minutes and was moving at 10 mph. Winds were calm and there wasn't a cloud in the sky 10 minutes after I landed. I actually could have avoided the storm altogether and landed 20 minutes later in calm weather.

The old flight manual was right. A 180-degree turn is the best answer for bad weather conditions. And knowing more about the local weather would have saved me from needing to make that turn.

Michael J. Siptrott is a private pilot with more than 120 hours and is working on his instrument rating. He now owns a Cessna 150.

"Never Again" is presented to enhance safety by providing a forum for pilots to learn from the experiences of others. Manuscripts should be typewritten, double-spaced, and sent to: Editor, AOPA Pilot, 421 Aviation Way, Frederick, Maryland 21701.