Thunderstorms in the vicinity

Dad believed the best way to become an old pilot is by hanging out with other pilots, listening to their tales of close calls, near misses, and unique experiences, while learning lessons embedded in their stories. He would say, “You won’t live long enough to learn all those lessons from your own mistakes.”

Well, here’s a story where no obvious mistakes were made, but the lessons learned will shape my future aeronautical decision making.

On September 13, 2021, I scheduled a night checkout in my club’s Cessna 172 (Jersey Aero Club). The instructor was a 2,000-plus hour CFII, airline-bound pilot, with a lot of experience and popular club choice. The area is mostly flat terrain.

Driving to the airport, I noticed light precipitation 40 nautical miles north of the airport. My CFI and I checked multiple METAR reports in the area, the TAFs, and various radar sources. An isolated thunderstorm about 70 miles north-northwest was moving to the east at approximately 30 knots. We would be well away from the projected track of the cell, and agreed to continue the flight as we were flying south to practice landings. The Garmin G500 also provided FIS-B weather radar.

Winds at our airport, Lakewood Airport (N12), and airports 20 miles to the north, were calm. Flying south about 10 nm toward Ocean County Airport (MJX), we noticed a 25-knot crosswind at about 1,500 feet msl. Ocean County AWOS reported calm winds on the ground. This was typical of my previous experience in this area at night.

At Ocean County Airport, we did a touch-and-go on Runway 24 and the crosswind slowly dissipated to nothing by the time we touched down. Turning to the left downwind, we noticed more frequent lightning to the north. The FIS-B weather updated, showing the thunderstorm cell moving farther south than anticipated. We decided to head back to Lakewood Airport while the AWOS still reported calm winds on ground.

The CFI tuned in other airports for wind information. Nothing raised concern. We considered a straight-in to Runway 6, but I preferred a full pattern.

Entering the right downwind for Runway 24, I noticed a 32-knot crosswind at 1,000 feet agl. Abeam the numbers, a little turbulence, a quick jolt. Just before turning there was a bigger bump that gave the airplane a good shake. Turning base and descending, the crosswind led me to be too high. At about 100 feet agl, I decided to go around.

Passing 350 feet agl on the go-around, we had light to moderate turbulence, but nothing very unusual. As we climbed, I held the speed above VY—just in case.

Then it happened—pure windshear.

As a learning experience, I am glad to place this one carefully in my growing catalog of aeronautical knowledge. But I will be happy to avoid similar experiences in the future.The left wing dipped violently about 30 degrees—an uncomfortable experience at 400 feet agl, and nothing I would expect in normal flying. I leveled the wings. For a brief moment, my instructor and I looked at each other then back to the instruments. I could hear my dad’s childhood lessons echoing—“always control the machine first.”

We were still flying a heading of 240, (roughly back toward Ocean County Airport).

Perhaps 5 seconds passed and then it happened—the worst turbulence I had ever experienced.

It felt as though the airplane got hit. Negative G lifted us out of the seat as the airplane dropped about 50 feet. The airplane “caught” itself at 400 feet, and it felt like slamming the runway after a high stall on landing. But it was the wings, not the gear, that stopped us. Our new heading was 195—a 45-degree difference.

I’m not going to try to land here, I thought.

“Let’s go back to MJX—we know it’s smooth there since we just left it,” said the CFI.

It was. We landed, parked in transient parking, and waited for weather updates. Despite it being almost 11 p.m. when we landed, neither of us were in a rush. About an hour passed before we finally headed back to Lakewood Airport.

After landing, I said to my instructor: “I’m glad I had that experience!”

He snapped back, but with a smile, “I’m not!”

I was glad. Not because I wanted to experience it or because it was enjoyable (it wasn’t). But because I gained something without injury to us or damage to the airplane. I gained further assurance that I can keep my head on in unexpected real-life situations, and I received a learning experience resulting in greater respect for thunderstorms.

While debriefing, the CFI said I handled the flying well and he would have done nothing different in that situation. He said he never took control because he did not feel the need to interfere. I consider that to be a great characteristic in a CFI, and it added to my self-confidence.

I learned several lessons:

First, none of our planning that night was wrong, incorrect, or unsafe. But situations can develop unexpectedly.

Second, advisory circular recommendations do not guarantee safety. FAA guidance on recommended distance from thunderstorms is at least 20 miles from severe thunderstorms (AC 00-24C). Our cell was never closer than 35 miles.

Third, although a buffer of 35 miles seemed comfortable then, I may use a self-imposed 40-mile limitation when I’m flying small GA aircraft. Don’t mess around with thunderstorms. If they are moving through the area, pay attention and play it safe.

Fourth, I have a new respect for early warning signs of potential windshear. Turbulence on the downwind after a completely smooth flight with a thunderstorm passing nearby will likely give me pause in the future—not necessarily to turn tail at the first sign of turbulence, but to consider keeping slightly higher speeds or diverting to an airport further away from the storm.

Fifth, a reminder that FIS-B should not be relied upon for real-time updates—the information is delayed. It is a very helpful tool, but a close storm may be changing rapidly and your information may become stale. (In fact, this was discussed in the AOPA Air Safety Institute Accident Case Study: Time Lapse (airsafetyinstitute.org/acs/timelapse).

Hindsight is 20/20, and with it there are a few things I would have done differently. For starters, I would have canceled the checkout and flown another day given the proximity to the thunderstorm and the fact I was remaining local.

Additionally, on our way back to Lakewood Airport, we could have contacted approach and requested a pilot weather report (pirep) for the area since we noticed the directional change on the FIS-B weather. It may not have changed anything, but it’s better to have all the information available.

Finally, I regret not making our own pirep. We were not on approach frequency, and did not think of it, but reporting low-level moderate to severe windshear may have enabled other pilots to make safer decisions for their own flight.

As a learning experience, I am glad to place this one carefully in my growing catalog of aeronautical knowledge. But I will be happy to avoid similar experiences in the future.

Christopher Lyon is an attorney and private pilot living in New York City.