Always Learning: Sheriff’s office

Two hours earlier I was preflighting my Cessna 140 for a VFR flight from Naples Municipal Airport (APF) in southern Florida to Chicago. The airport was blanketed by a 700-foot ceiling with 5 miles of visibility. Although I was eager to get an early start, I was happy to wait for at least marginal VFR (MVFR) conditions—and a trend of improving weather—before launching northward. Within an hour Naples and inland airports were reporting 1,500-foot ceilings. Coastal airports were still IFR, so I would fly up the middle of Florida on my way to Georgia. I planned to remain flexible and use in-cockpit weather to modify my route as necessary. If the weather proved less favorable than forecast, plan B was to return to Naples. Plan C was to land at the nearest airport.

The flight started out as expected with decent MVFR conditions as I flew east of the Fort Myers Class C airspace. Soon, however, I noticed wispy tendrils of clouds developing below the overcast ceiling. Alert to the possibility of deteriorating conditions, I searched for the nearest airport on my electronic flight bag (EFB). There was a private airport just off the left wing, but it was much larger than I expected. It must have been an abandoned military base with several gigantic hangars and huge expanses of concrete. Noted.

Contrary to the forecast, the ceilings were now slowly lowering, and I was descending to remain beneath the clouds. I started to get an uncomfortable feeling of flying too close to towers below me and was contemplating plan B when I was startled by an obstacle alert on my EFB indicating four 1,520-foot towers at my 11 o’clock. They were taller than the height I was flying and I couldn’t see them yet. That was enough. I executed a one-eighty—only to find the same poor conditions had quickly developed behind me.

I felt increasing urgency to jump to plan C: Get on the ground and wait it out. But where? Aha, that abandoned private airport. As I approached, I could see the runway was easily 400 feet wide. On final I noticed a row of dozens of neatly parked Ford Crown Victoria police cars lining the side of the runway. Then I spotted several police helicopters and even a few Douglas DC–3s parked on the enormous ramp. What was this place? I had a sudden urge to go around for fear of getting in trouble for landing at a restricted airport without permission, but continuing VFR flight in these conditions was a worse option.

After I landed, I sat on the runway with the engine idling, wondering where to park. The police cars were empty (thank goodness!) and the hangars with the DC–3s were several miles away at the other end of the airfield. Nearby was a modern facility with two police helicopters sitting on their pads. As I taxied to the ramp I could see both helicopters had police officers sitting in them. I shut down, climbed out, and sheepishly approached one of the helicopters. “Scud running, huh?” the officer said. As I explained my predicament he said, “Heck, I’m just busting your chops. You did the right thing landing here and you’re welcome to stay until the weather improves. This is the Lee County Sheriff’s Office search and rescue helicopter unit. Our mission is to find pilots like you after they go missing.” I was guilty as charged—and embarrassed for getting myself into this predicament. Embarrassment can result in positive learning experiences, however, as Dennis K. Johnson explains in “Embarrassed? Fuhgeddaboudit,” beginning on page 40.

During a fascinating tour of the search and rescue facility, the officer told me that Buckingham Field (FL59) was a World War II training base and now houses his helicopter unit and a mosquito abatement operation (the DC–3s). It turns out this swampy part of Florida is notorious for producing lower ceilings than surrounding areas in the morning. The weather improved quickly and 45 minutes later I was on my way again. Ten miles north, as the officer had predicted, the ceilings lifted completely and I was basking in the glorious Florida sunshine.

When flying in marginal weather, always have an out—and act on it before it’s too late. If you ever need to land to wait for improved weather, you just might make new friends and interesting memories.