Like many pilots with a decent amount of cross-country experience in the winter, I’ve encountered icing conditions. That mine happened to coincide with a faulty VOR receiver, resulting in the unfortunate situation of not knowing where the airport or nearby mountains were, was just my bad luck.
Thankfully my encounter ended well. We landed safely, drove home, and retrieved the airplane later that week. Not everyone is as fortunate.
The factors that led to my decision to fly that day could be a textbook example of what the FAA calls hazardous attitudes. I was young (read invincible), anxious to get home, and experienced enough to think I could handle whatever was thrown at me. Icing conditions were anticipated along the route, but I thought I’d be able to stay below the clouds if necessary. Yet despite encountering a lower ceiling than forecast only 10 minutes after takeoff and with the sun setting, I continued on.
Soon after entering the clouds on an instrument flight plan, the ice started to build on my Cessna 172. I reacted immediately. I had read that climbing helps sometimes, so I gave it a shot. That just made things worse. With ice building faster, I decided to land and wait it out, which I did—after the VOR failed and considerably more ice had built up. Thankfully I remembered that when iced up, you should approach at a higher airspeed, and everything worked out fine.
What I never did was turn around. With the benefit of hindsight it seems so obvious that I should have cried, “Uncle”; turned around immediately after getting in the clouds; and tried again another day. I don’t know why I didn’t take that option, but I think it has something to do with the mindset of pilots. Although we are supposedly taught a culture of safety, we’re also taught that we’re pilot in command. The master of the ship. The sole responsible party. None of which sounds anything like turning around and “giving up.”
So often, however, that is the right decision—well, other than not going in the first place, that is. The notion of every flight being optional was a foreign concept to me. In a way I’m happy I had the experience, because it was the slap in the face I needed to help me understand the significant consequences of our actions—and how quickly situations can change. It also provided clarity on what a pilot in command really is. Sometimes the PIC’s smartest and most courageous action is to not be a pilot at all that day.
Dan Namowitz describes how an instrument-rated pilot may encounter ice and what to do about it, although his advice is pertinent to all pilots. His story, “Icy Reception,” begins on page 26. For a broader look at when and how icing conditions occur, turn to Jack Williams’ “Weather: Ice Is a Drag” on page 38.
The prospect of ice on the airplane can be scary, but it’s comforting to know that in almost all cases it can be avoided simply by staying out of the clouds and precipitation when the temperature is hovering around freezing, or below. Or you can do like I do now and enjoy the comfort of the indoors on cold and cloudy winter days.
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