Never Again: Into the darkness

We had just finished fueling the airplane and tying it down when the storms hit, and they were severe. I called the flight service folks about every hour to check on the latest status; the answer was always “about another hour.” We finally decided to rent a room and spend the night. We would get up early and hopefully complete our flight, as we needed to be at work the next morning.

The alarm woke Carly and me at 3 a.m. I rushed outside to look at the weather.

Here we were in the pitch black at 350 feet, busting in and out of scud.The rain had stopped, and it was totally calm. But man, was it ever dark! There were no stars to be seen so there was a solid overcast up there somewhere, but at what altitude? There were not enough lights on the ground to cause a reflection off the cloud bases, wherever they were. It was simply very dark. To save time I asked Carly to get the weather briefing from flight service while I stowed our gear and preflighted the airplane. When Carly returned, he said everything looked good. There was a solid overcast at 8,000 feet—that’s why we couldn’t see the stars—but it should be clear flying all the way to Miami.

We cranked up, taxied out, and did the runup and final checks. Man, it was dark! The runway lights and a few other lights around the airport were all we could see. Takeoff was routine. Initial climbout was OK until we hit scud at 350 feet. I instinctively leveled off.

Great! Here we were in the pitch black at 350 feet busting in and out of scud. Carly, who was looking at the sectional chart, said there were some tall towers to the south. My mind quickly weighed the alternatives—grope around at 350 feet in and out of scud to find the runway or climb out on instruments. Despite my relatively low instrument time (three hours, 45 minutes) I had felt comfortable during simulated instrument training and I believed this was the better alternative. At this point I was just interested in keeping us alive. I had read enough accident reports about controlled flight into the ground or things sticking up from it. I told Carly I was going on the gauges, asked him to keep watch out the windshield, and climbed. Thank God I really had been trained to trust what my instruments were telling me. Vertigo is not a myth. My body told me the airplane was turning, descending, doing all sorts of things. Only by really concentrating on a good instrument scan could my mind overrule those powerful sensations.

After what seemed like an eternity, we broke out of the clouds at 8,500 feet. Ahead was brilliant clear sky with Jacksonville and the coast in sight.We climbed and climbed and climbed. I had hoped the clouds were just a layer and we would break out on top quickly. No such luck. Three thousand feet, 4,000 feet, 5,000 feet; on and on we climbed. At 6,000 feet it got worse because we busted out of one towering cloud and then plunged right into another. The intermittent brief flashes of bright light and billowing cloud edges were extremely distracting and disorienting. It took all my concentration and willpower to ignore all this and stay focused on the instruments.

After what seemed like an eternity, we broke out of the clouds at 8,500 feet. Ahead of us was brilliant clear sky with Jacksonville and the coast in sight. We leveled off at 9,500 feet. I called Jacksonville Radio to report that we were “with them” VFR level at 9,500. They cheerfully said good morning and gave us the latest Jacksonville info and the forecast to Miami, which was clear skies. The rest of the flight was smooth, pleasant, and uneventful.

So what had happened? Had someone confused cloud bases with cloud tops? I will never know. Carly swore the briefer had said ceiling (cloud bases) at 8,000 feet. That turned out to be close to where the tops were. I have gone over this scenario many times during my subsequent years of flying and always concluded that I had made the right choice. The regret I had was that we did not call Jacksonville Radio and tell them what we were doing. In essence we conducted 45 minutes of illegal flight. But I had my hands full and did not need the further distraction of radio communication.

I remain ever so grateful to my instructors who were wise enough and caring enough to expose me to that concentrated three hours, 45 minutes under the hood. This experience reinforced my faith in my ability to control an airplane using instruments, although I redoubled my efforts to never incur a repeat until I got my instrument rating.

Tom Haack holds commercial single- and multiengine land and flight instructor certificates and instrument ratings.