Resist temptation

I’m following a friend in a 200-horsepower Aviat Husky a couple of miles ahead. The weather is inbound from the west, a poorly defined system running southwest to northeast. We’re headed to Glacier National Park, about 200 miles northeast, but the clouds along our route are hanging too low over the Bitterroots to squeeze between them and the peaks. My Super Cub isn’t IFR certified, and we’d likely encounter icing in the clouds anyway.

Silence on the radio while my friend and I study our satellite weather graphics, independently assessing options as we edge closer to the ominous gray ahead. The Husky pilot reports seeing lighter skies to the west and what looks like an alley working north. Painting them on ADS-B, I watch them start the left turn. Their plan, if they need more vertical room, is to turn left and escape down the South Fork Salmon Valley until they can work west and north.

I study the weather graphics on my iPad, then look outside and to the west, where the Husky is headed. I don’t see the lighter skies and I cannot visualize the plan. I’ve got a few minutes to make my decision, so I decide to continue north and keep assessing. I’ve learned to use all the time available to me, constantly reassessing and always keeping a “bailout” available. A bailout direction is the area that’s open, available, and the direction I will go if I’m surprised or options run out. When flying in low IFR, near forecast icing, or in a region of thunderstorms, I always plan a bailout direction, and if I don’t have one, that’s a no-go decision for me.

The Husky is 30 percent faster than my Super Cub and has more climb power and a better avionics stack. All of that gives my friend more options. After a few more minutes, with gray clouds drooping toward me, I advise the Husky pilot I have a different plan. I’m turning east to make a run for the Bitterroot Valley. If I can get ahead of the system and make the valley, I’ll gain another 4,000 feet or so of vertical room and drop down for a comfortable cruise. If not, I’ll continue east to Butte or turn all the way south to Salmon. Complicating the problem is my limited fuel, resulting from a couple days exploring the backcountry. The Bitterroot Valley has several good diversion stops with fuel.

I head northeast toward the valley, but have to keep checking east as the clouds creep left to right on my windscreen and the Bitterroots rise. Every few minutes, another check to the east, which puts me deeper into the Bitterroots and pointed farther south of the Bitterroot Valley. If I keep check-turning, my course will run southeast, and the weather will wall me off from the valley. In a few minutes it will be decision time again. I can either make the valley or not, and if not, based on fuel either turn all the way south to Salmon or climb when possible and catch more tailwind to make Butte.

Running east-southeast just approaching the front side of the system and directly south of the valley, I see the west fork of the Bitterroot River and realize I’ve possibly got room to make it, then follow it north to where it opens into the Bitterroot Valley. After a bit, I pass overhead West Fork lodge, then into the Bitterroot Valley and begin a comforting descent down to a relaxed cruise. The weather catches me and drifts overhead just below the peaks, but I’m now several thousand feet below. A light rain falls, but visibility remains decent, so I let nature rinse the backcountry dust off the Super Cub and hopscotch my way past diversion options all the way up to Missoula.

After fueling and reassessing weather, I made a scenic run up the valley and along the side of Flathead Lake into Glacier Park International (GPI). After a while, the Husky crew taxied in. They didn’t find the weather alley and had to run west and drop into Idaho County, where they refueled, waited, and eventually got an opening, finding a route north then east over to Glacier Park.

We made separate decisions that day in changing and dynamic conditions that felt right for each of us, flying our own airplanes dealing with our own proficiency and skill. Decades of flying with mentors and watching skilled pilots reveal confidence through the independence of their own decisions taught me the invaluable lesson of resisting temptation to follow the crowd and fly my own airplane.

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