Trouble in the home stretch
"There's just time to call Flight Watch before we get there," I said as I fished for my camera. "These blue skies are spoiling us-I haven't checked Phoenix weather since we left Colorado Springs." Jean traced dry riverbeds leading to the site while I dialed the radio.
"Severe thunderstorms stretch all the way across Arizona," said the briefer when I reached him, "tops are forecast to 50,000 feet, with gusts to 50 knots, and one-inch hail."
"Wow!" I said, surprised. "That sure developed quickly. What's the extent of the line?"
"It's solid from 100 miles southeast of Winslow all the way into Utah. You can't cross. The only possibility would be to steer south toward the broken end and hope it doesn't fill in before you get there." Jean and I looked at each other, sightseeing now forgotten.
"Can we make it to Gallup?" I asked the briefer.
"That's where the radar echoes begin." With few airports in this part of the country, I wondered how far we could proceed without getting into trouble.
"That line's pretty much solid," confirmed Albuquerque Center when I returned to VFR flight following. "I recommend heading south toward St. Johns, Arizona, on the New Mexico border. So far other aircraft are getting through down there."
"We could land at St. Johns if necessary?"
"Yep. No echoes there, and they report clear below 12,000 feet. The line is stationary just west of there." Still treading blue skies, we steered the Flying Carpet southward.
"Incredible," Jean said. "Clear sailing across a dozen states, only to encounter bad weather in the home stretch. But I suppose we can't complain." Drawn East for a wedding 10 days earlier, we'd hopscotched the Midwest and wrapped up vacation with our son Austin in Colorado Springs.
"What were your favorite parts, Jean?" I asked, noting dark haze forming on the horizon.
"Water skiing at my sister's on the Wisconsin border," she replied, "and staying at the Broadmoor Hotel in Colorado Springs."
"We lucked out with that Parents Weekend special," I said. "Did you see that lightning?" Suddenly our Stormscope brimmed with returns.
"I did-hope we make it home tonight."
"So do I, but think of all the fun we've had over the years at unexpected layovers." I reached for the mic button.
"That line still open on the south end?" I asked the controller.
"Still some holes," he replied cheerfully. "I see another aircraft coming through there from the next sector; stand by for a pilot report." Nervously, we waited.
"Meeting Hannis and Austin in Springfield for the wedding was pretty cool," said Jean, filling the silence. "Too bad they had school and had to fly commercial."
"I did enjoy picking up Hannis at St. Louis International and flying him to Springfield-quite a contrast after Hannibal Municipal Airport where only one other airplane was parked," I said. We had wandered quiet streets in the shadow of Mark Twain, then joined the big boys flying into Lambert.
"That twin Cessna from Phoenix just checked in," interjected the center controller, "passed in the clear between cells with plenty of room to spare. The pilot recommends steering direct for Show Low."
"Great," I said, bearing 10 degrees right. "We'll land at Show Low or Taylor if we don't like the view from there."
"Visiting our old house in Indiana was definitely a highlight," said Jean. "Surprising how little it had changed after 15 years. And drinking that root beer frosty at the drive-in-I'd forgotten how good they taste."
"It was also a pleasure finding people I still knew at Lafayette Aviation, where I used to instruct. I just wish we could have visited more old friends."
"We did make your mother's house in Chicago, and Iowa for that grand reception by your publisher." "We did lots this trip, didn't we? Seemed like an endless vacation."
"You bet. Everything from Lincoln's tomb to an Air Force football game-and Air Force won!"
Lightning now sparkled off our wing, and glistening shafts of rain were visible.
"It's beautiful," said Jean, gesturing out the window. "But surely we can't get through there."
"We won't know until we get farther south. St. Johns is in the clear, and Silver City, New Mexico. But Show Low is our limit unless the way is clear-there's no place to land between there and Phoenix."
"Look, Greg! Over there." A bright corridor now opened through the grim downpour, offering like the parting of the Red Sea clear passage to the other side. Beyond, however, waited gray mist.
"Albuquerque Center," I radioed, "we see the gap. But how does it look beyond here?"
"Just some scattered light rain," he replied, "and a few isolated cells. You should have no trouble on the other side."
Squeezing hands, Jean and I sneaked westward into that sinister gauntlet, but the gap proved a wide one and only the height of our foes made it seem narrow. We snapped photos of rain-splintered sunlight until welcomed by rainbows on the other side. Silver skies suddenly beckoned from the Four Peaks east of Phoenix. Yet to cross, however, was one last veil of rain. It was thin, but clearly defined and crowned by dark clouds. We could not yet celebrate.
"How's it look ahead?" I radioed, noting Show Low Airport out the window.
"Just light precip," came the reply. "You're past the worst of it. But if you don't like what you see, 50 miles south will clear it all."
"That'll be our back-up plan," I said, glad to be well-stocked with fuel. On the verge of retreat, we approached the curtain of rain. It was framed on either end by distant cells and lightning, but the Stormscope showed nothing ahead. Then the showers turned out to be mere lace-barely enough to clean the bugs from our windshield. We burst through into sunshine.
"Good thing we didn't take off any later," said Jean, reflecting on sunstruck cumulus behind us. "We might never have made it home tonight."
"Maybe an evening of adventure awaited us in Show Low."
"We've had enough adventure for one vacation."
I tuned the recorded weather for Falcon Field, almost visible now beyond the craggy Superstition Mountains, and we descended through now-cloudless skies toward home.
Greg Brown was the 2000 National Flight Instructor of the Year. His books include Flying Carpet: The Soul of an Airplane, The Savvy Flight Instructor, The Turbine Pilot's Flight Manual, and Job Hunting for Pilots. Visit his Web site.
Related Articles
