Normally, water and airplanes get along just fine. Many pilots I know avoid flying in the rain, but it’s impressive how wet a small GA airplane can get (both airborne and on the ground) without a problem…until you find water where you don’t want it.
When AOPA purchased the 1953 Cessna 170B that eventually became your sweepstakes airplane, we relocated it from a hangar in Auburn, Alabama, to the ramp at Atlanta Regional Falcon Field (FFC). The airplane sat on the ramp for a few weeks while we made plans for its restoration. I quickly learned that Atlanta can experience heavy rain in the spring, and during one particularly strong storm the accompanying wind drove the rain deep into the pitot tube and static port. The airspeed indicator, altimeter, and VSI filled with water. Shame on us for not immediately buying and using a pitot tube cover, but who’d have thought the pitot tube and static port could ingest so much water? Thankfully, we were planning to replace all the instruments, anyway.
I will admit to another pitot tube infraction that occurred decades ago when my first airplane, a Cessna 150, sat on the ramp at DeKalb Taylor Municipal Airport (DKB) in Illinois. It was January. The airplane did not have a pitot tube cover (see a trend?) and it snowed overnight. The next morning, I felt compelled to fly in the frigid but clear blue skies that often follow a snowstorm. I brushed the snow off the wings and launched into the sky with no concerns—until I noticed the airspeed indicated zero miles per hour. The snow I had brushed off the wing fell into the pitot tube and froze solid before takeoff. My instructor had never covered any instruments during my training to simulate failed instruments, so I experienced a degree of panic as I flew a way-too-fast pattern and landing for fear of unintentionally stalling.
Now I’m older and (should be) much wiser about things aviation. This year, the AOPA Sweepstakes Cessna 170 sat at the AOPA tent for more than a week during EAA AirVenture in Oshkosh—pitot tube cover firmly affixed. After the show ended it was my turn to fly the airplane back to FFC. I sumped the fuel tanks and gascolator and found no water. Because we had experienced several brief but intense storms during the week and I don’t have a great track record with water getting into places it shouldn’t be, I rocked the wings a few times and checked again.
I took off and headed south. On this warm summer day, the winds aloft were calm down low, but there was a nice tailwind at 7,500 feet—and the air was much cooler. Nearing my cruise altitude, the engine started running rough. The Continental Prime IO-370 engine is fuel injected, so I could rule out carb ice (I don’t have a good track record with that, either). Once level, I still felt an occasional stumble, so I played with different mixture, propeller, and power settings until the engine returned to the smooth purring we’ve all fallen in love with.
The air was perfectly smooth for most of the flight. Only during my third leg while crossing the Appalachian Mountains around Chattanooga did I experience any turbulence. I tucked the airplane into a hangar that AOPA Social Media Marketer Cayla Hunt had secured. Handoff complete.
Several days later Cayla called to tell me she found plenty of water in the fuel. I was incredulous. How could that be? It did explain the roughness I experienced at altitude leaving Wisconsin. I had sumped the fuel at Oshkosh, and then twice more after fueling at Terre Haute Regional Airport (HUF) and Upper Cumberland Regional Airport (SRB)—not a trace of water either time. Was it possible that the water did not get dislodged from its hiding place in the fuel tanks until the airplane got tossed about while crossing the mountains on my final leg? That’s my best guess.
The moral to these stories is vigilance. If we let our guard down, the water will get into places it does not belong. Always use a pitot tube cover when parked outside. Shake the wings more vigorously than we think necessary after the airplane sits in heavy rain. Invest in a cabin cover if the airplane lives on a tie down.
I often camp with my Cessna 140, and a waterproofing trick I employ sometimes elicits questions from nearby campers. My fuel caps are vented with tiny holes on the top of the caps. When I first bought my airplane, I would find a little water in the fuel tanks after it sat in heavy rain. So, I consulted the International Cessna 120-140 Association, and was advised to place empty tuna fish cans—upside down—on top of the fuel caps. They are just the right size to cover the caps and experience shows they successfully keep water at bay. And, if I forget to take them off during preflight, the wind will blow them off during takeoff. Finally, a solution to keep water out that even I can’t mess up.