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What's the worst IMC experience you've encountered


M016576

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After the weather discussions, and all the go/no-go threads, I realized I haven't seen a "war story" thread here.... One that discusses the near misses.  If you read accident reports, you know all about the the incidents that end poorly.. But for 1 of those, I bet there are 50 that narrowly averted disaster.  So maybe we can all learn from each other- I'll go first.

In 2005 I was flying a F-18F from NAF Atsugi to go fly in a 2 vs 2 intercept flight out over the ocean in W-599.  The weather was 300-1 1/2 with rain.  Tops at 30k.  Our closest divert showing as a suitable alternate was Iwakuni- they were calling 800-2.  In the airspace during an intercept, I had one of my two generators fall offline.  It reset ok, but I decided based on the weather that I'd RTB anyway (even though the book says you can continue your flight if it resets).  I was hard ifr about 30 miles south of the field at 8000 feet on vectors when I lost both generators simultaneously.  My GPS/INS dumped its position, and all my displays shut off.  The flight control computers were still functioning through a PMG power source, but all I had to navigate with were a peanut gyro, backup airspeed, backup altimeter, and a wet compass.  I cycled both generators and got one back intermittently- enough to power one display and a radio.  I declared an emergency and realized that I didn't have enough fuel to divert anywhere except about a 250nm radius... But every field in that radius was low ifr.  I got No-Gyro vectors to a PAR, which I flew using the standby compass.  I broke out at about 300 feet in the rain, and landed at Atsugi.  On landing rollout, the jet hydroplaned due to the wet runway, blew two tires and I ended up catching the midfield arresting gear shortly before departing the runway.  What did I learn?  Lots... Trust your systems but be ready for the worst.  I didn't really have the option to "bag out" of that flight before I took off, but in understanding the operations officer's pressure to launch jets that day (due to flight hour closeout), versus cancel, I think I would have to define a better alternate game plan or just cancel the flight: again, not my calls to make that day.  Finally, just because you're on the runway, doesn't mean that the emergency or flight is over.  It's not over until the motors are shut down.

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That's quite harrowing. Mine was nerve wracking but nowhere near as close to the edge (I think).

I was at Boeing field outside Seattle about to head back to the east coast. Had a tough go/no go decision for first leg back to KRAP, rapid city SD. (Pretty amazing what our planes will do)

I decided to go and ended up wishing I hadn't as I found myself in worse than forecast over the Rockies, fighting icing in the clouds at 17,000, and thunderstorm line closing in on Rapid City.

Terrain prevented much lower altitudes. And ATC coverage was spotty.

All worked out but I was acutely aware of how few options I had if anything went wrong... I descended out of the clouds with very little TKS fluid left...

My limits are more modest these days!

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

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 My most "intense" experience was several years ago while I was giving some actual instrument dual in a Cessna 172. Some severe unforecast "lake effect" weather (low ceilings, visibilities, and icing conditions) developed while we were on a combination night, instrument "round-robin" XC training flight. The weather was forecast for the entire period to be 4,000' overcast with good visibility beneath, perfect conditions to allow an instrument student to get his first bit of actual.

The “out” part of the trip was totally routine. The "back" part of the trip was another story.  Evidently Ma Nature had forgotten to read the entire weather forecast. We updated the weather after stopping for fuel and everything was as forecast and was in agreement with what we had experienced on the outbound leg.  However, after we had departed, an unforecast winter squall developed and moved across our home airport and every possible alternate for about 100 miles. Ceilings and visibilities were running around 400' and 1/2 to 1 mile in blowing snow. Additionally, there was light to moderate icing in the clouds. 

Initially, I wasn't too concerned, it would be a good experience for the student to see just how quickly things can go "south" on you in spite of all the planning you do. By the time we got to our home airport, the weather had dropped below the minimums for the VOR approach so we decided to go to our alternate which had an ILS. We were starting to pick up a trace of ice, but it was only about 15 minutes to the alternate so I wasn't too concerned. Again, I felt that this could turn out to be some very good experience for the student.

As we diverted to the alternate the vacuum failure light on the instrument panel illuminated. That was not a good thing! That was precisely not the time that I wanted to have deal with a vacuum failure. The student did a good job of partial panel flying, but after several minutes he started to get vertigo and he began to lose it. At that point, I took the airplane back and was flying "cross panel" partial panel. The winds started to pick up and the ride went from occasional light chop to light to moderate turbulence. The whiskey compass was all but unusable. At that point, I declared an emergency. What had started out a routine training flight with a couple of easily handled "issues" had turned into something altogether different.

As we weighed our options, it became apparent that the weather was going to get worse before it got better and we didn't have much more than the legally required fuel - waiting out the squall line in a holding pattern wasn't an option, besides we had started to pick up a bit more ice. I decided that it would be better to get on the ground as soon as possible - the weather was at minimums for the ILS. I tried flying the first approach, but with the turbulence and the whiskey compass dancing around I couldn't keep on a heading that allowed me to track the localizer. Basically all I had was the electric turn coordinator. I missed that approach and went around for another attempt. This time we had approach vector us to the inner marker and I descended on the glideslope. Just as I was getting ready to go around the runway lights came into view and we were able to land.

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January 29,1993.  The Mooney Salesman for Northern California asked me if I would like to accompany him to Kerrville to take a TLS he had sold a customer back for a repair that needed to be done at the Factory.  Having just bought my airplane a few months earlier, I jumped at any opportunity to fly cross country, especially in a TLS, and with this very good pilot.  He let me fly left seat.  This plane did not have a stormscope and there was no other on board weather such as we all have today.  I questioned him before I flew up to Auburn about filling the O2 tank.  

The plan for this flight was to fly direct to Tucson, then on to Kerrville.  Once in Kerrville we would change planes and fly back in a demonstrator M20J.  This would all be done in one night.  Looking back on this it seems crazy, but at the time....

Anyway, I flew to Auburn in my plane.  When I got there I found out the he hadn't filled the O2.  Today, I would have passed on that flight on that alone.  Since I respected his judgment, I figured he had done a weather briefing.  He hadn't, or if it did it was superficial.  We took off into the darkness on a direct flight to Tucson with no flight plan filed.  Direct flight takes you directly over the worst of the Sierras for an extended period of time, but there was no fear because you couldn't see the ground anyway.  Awhile later it became apparent that we would need to air file due to clouds.  We were in the clouds and pretty soon we started seeing St. Elmos fire arcing across the cowling.   I thought that was interesting in that I had never seen it before.  No sooner had I made that comment than lightning filled the windscreen.  Pow!! we hit a downdraft of 2,000 ft/min.  Then an updraft.  My right seat comrade screamed, "What are you doing?"  I said I was trying to keep the plane under control.  We started climbing.  I thought it was going to be all over for us.  We climbed and climbed and climbed.  Suddenly I started seeing stars appear.  We were at FL 210.  Due to our O2 supply being close to empty, my right seater said I should use it.  We did the ILS into Tucson.  I got out of the plane and suggested to my friend that he continue on to Kerrville--alone--and pick me up on his way back.  He could use the remaining O2 that way.  I was never happier to be on the ground at the Best Western that night.

Well, nearly 10,000 hours and CFI and ATP ratings later, I just shake my head at my ignorance at that time.

 

 

Edited by donkaye
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January 2, 1982.  Mooney M20B.  I had a Commercial certificate and Instrument rating and 800 hours with a lot of cross-country IFR time.  I was plenty current and qualified for the flight.  I had no qualms about punching into the low, low overcast at dusk.  It was a few months after the PATCO controller's strike and the FAA had raided FSS for people, leaving them understaffed.  I was trying to get a void time clearance to depart from a rural airfield.  It took more than an hour to do so because I just couldn't get FSS to answer the phone.  That was the only way to get a clearance on the ground in those days.  This was also in the days before The Weather Channel and Internet weather.  Cockpit weather displays were only a fantasy.   Because of the delay, I took off with a stale weather briefing.  FSS was the only weather game in town and when they gave me the clearance and that was it.  No mention of the Convective Sigmet that now covered the area.

There's lots more to the story, but here's the punch line:  About 20 minutes into the flight, I flew through a shaft of extremely heavy rain and hail for about 45 seconds.  The rain was so heavy, every crevice in the cockpit exposed to the outside had a fine mist of water coming through it.  The roar of the hail was deafening.  I put my hand up to the windshield because I thought it was coming in.  The engine quit.  I pulled the carb heat to give it an alternate air source and it came right back to life.  The ride was smooth as silk.

Before that encounter, I had been in and out of CB clouds where the updrafts and downdrafts had me about 1,000' either side of my assigned altitude of 4,000'.  The rain was light to moderate.  It was dark by then and if I was outside the CB clouds when the lightning flashed, I could clearly recognize features on the ground as if a giant flash bulb had gone off.  At the bottom of one particularly viscious and turbulent downdraft, I thought, "Is this what it's like before you crash an airplane?"  My wife was on board and my next thought was that her parents would really be pissed.  Then I thought about one of my mentors and I knew what he'd say to me, "Drive on boy!"  In other words, keep flying the airplane!

And that's what I did.  I remember thinking, "If this airplane hits the ground, it's going to be with the wings level."  When it first started getting really rough, I extended the landing gear to help keep speed build up to a minimum in case of upset.  The airplane had no autopilot, not even the PC which came on later models.  I was determined that I was going to get that airplane on the ground.  I truly believe some pilots crash because they just give up when faced with a grim situation.

When I finally got the airplane down is when I got jelly knees.  Every bit of paint on the leading edges of wings and empennage was stripped like it had been sandblasted.  All the oil cooler fins were smashed flat like they had been hit with a ball peen hammer.  The landing light was broken out.  Remember, this was at night.  When the landing light didn't work when I landed, I thought maybe water had shorted it.  The carburetor air filter was smashed and deformed.

Most pilots, by the time they get 1,000 hours or so, have some kind of flight where they are severely tested.  Most make it, some don't.  When it's your turn, "Drive on boy!"

 
Edited by Mooney20
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Wow, really scary stuff!

I feel that my stories are really whimpy by comparison! But I sure am glad that they are!

I guess the worst for me was shooting an approach at my own field and breaking out at minimums but being unable to see it and going missed twice and diverting to another airport. Now mind you this was at my home field and after making it back through so much on a very long xcountry. I was just so close to making it and ATC spoke to me like I was an idiot. But I just did not have the field and made the right decision. If I went below minimums and made it, I would have still regreted making a poor decision. So that's a lesson learned.

Edited by 201er
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 The airplane had no autopilot, not even the PC which came on later models.

Most pilots, by the time they get 1,000 hours or so, have some kind of flight where they are severely tested.  Most make it, some don't.  When it's your turn, "Drive on boy!"

 

The AP is the first thing I disconnect in the face of moderate turbulence.  The AP doesn't have a brain and can't adjust rate of control movement to the intensity of the turbulence.  We can fly our planes much, much better than an AP when things get rough.

Edited by donkaye
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I am down in the desert about 50 miles west of Yuma AZ at KCXL Calexico CA. Many of the trips I make are to KGUP Gallup NM where my mother lives. I make that trip several times a year and most especially at Thanksgiving and Christmas. At the time of this flight my instrument rating was a couple of years old. I stayed current but I had very little time in actual. I had no problem thinking about flying into clouds and descending on an airway (or so I thought) to get back to VFR but I didn't really want to test approaches in mountainous terrain just yet. Also, I had this airplane for a little more than a year so it still felt pretty new to me.

So, several years ago for the Thanksgiving trip there was forecast scattered clouds with some fairly strong westerly winds. I also noticed a forecast for BLDU in Winslow. For Gallup, the forecast was scattered with the fairly stiff winds but forecast in the same direction as the runway. That happens many times in Gallup that the winds are aligned with the runway. The winds there have never bothered me and have never been out of my comfort zone with regards to ability or proficiency.

The weather in the desert was beautiful, clear and in the 80s and light winds on the ground. Once in the air I got my clearance all the way to Gallup and climbed up to 15000. At altitude I found some of those forecast westerly winds and all was well with the world. As I closed in on Phoenix, I was clearly 3000 or 4000 feet higher than the tops of the scattered layer that was forming. I got a re-route nearing Phoenix that sent me north to the Winslow VOR. Over central Phoenix it was easy to see that the clouds were rising along with the terrain to the north and east. I asked for a climb and was cleared to 17000. At 17000 and now close to these clouds I could see them continuing to grow. Ask again and now I was climbing at full power in the 231 up to FL190. It was only a handful of miles back that the tops were at maybe 12000 max. Then the controller gave me a block between 190 and 210. As I was finally passing this ridge line of clouds at FL195, I could see that they were growing like summer clouds and forming CBs. There was no front that was forecast just the standard winds that come with the changing of the seasons in the high desert. The thought to turn back was definitely running through my mind.

Once past that ridge line of clouds I pointed the nose down so that I did not get caught on top of these building storms and right there in front of me I could clearly see the Winslow VOR and BLDU around it. Now over the high desert in late November and the chilly surface temperatures that come with it, I was diving with the LG deployed so that I could stay out of the next fierce looking cloud and I started to get into some sleet. That is the way that it was for the rest of the trip, diving to stay out of the next cloud while being pelted with sleet.

I did not loose any instruments or have any system failures so I know that does not sound harrowing like some of the other stories. For me, that was the first time that I had been in any weather and entered clouds (briefly) without an instructor on board. It was also the first time that I had been in any precipitation without an instructor on board. Combine those things with the unexpected buildups, seemingly crazy maneuvering that I think I was doing, little actual instrument experience, new to me airplane, and I was plenty stressed.

Takeaways - I think what was happening was that the high winds were being forced aloft by the rising terrain to the north and east of Phoenix. Add a little moisture and changing temperatures from the warm desert to the cooler high desert and I think that is what was generating the weather. The weather report later that night talked about the thunder-snow they had north of Phoenix earlier in the day. One other clue that I now always pay attention to is BLDU. In this case, the forecast for BLDU was in Winslow, more than 100 miles from my destination. If the surface winds are going to be strong enough to pick up so much dirt that it has to be stated in the forecast, then I think there is a good chance that something extra might just be happening in the atmosphere to be wary of.

Dave - only a couple of more posts and I will make it to 100.

Edited by Nemesis
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Back in Sept 1987 I was in Myrtle Beach and going home to Wilm De., The wx looked iffy but being young and dumb it's just rain, so I called wx brief just before departing to make sure it was within my comfort level, as I was rolling out later my friend who dropped us off at Myrtle said lighting was behind me, I at that time thought I could just turn around if I encountered any poor wx., learned not so, I was in hard rain in a few minutes and trying to hold altitude found myself about 30 miles over the ocean asked for vectors back to Myrtle Seymore Johnson said M B just got hit with a level 4 said what are you doing up here I told him I can talk right now so he gave me direct Wilmington De. And altitude with a good luck salutation, rain deafening my wife look scared I was but it as drilled into my head to fly the plane all the way no matter and never give up,sudden silence as we approached Norfolk the hard rain started to ease up, we were being throw between 4000 $ 8000 ft. I called the faa to ask regarding my wx briefing and later was told after reviewing the tapes I received a 12 hour forecast with apologies, the supervisor told me he was no longer in that position...nowadays with all the weather available to us for analysis it's on us, lesson learned recheck, double check, fly the plane and keep your composure. I'm sure we can come up with to many bad encounters ie..runaway trim at night in rain..but one is enough..

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The dumbest stunts that I got away with while "learning to fly" were really not IMC experiences. (Taking off from AUW zero/zero, getting caught on top at night at the end of a long xcountry before being instrument rated, running out of fuel @ 5500' VFR cross country.) I hope I learned from those poor decisions in the first few hundred of 3100 TT. I've landed my first M20E @ HKY, MDW, IAD and many more at night in 200&1/2 in rain and fog but the only serious IFR scare was over eastern KY returning from Chicago to NC at night. IMC on a moonless night, no Stormscope or other on board weather. ATC advised that they were painting scattered cells and the controller was providing heading advice to keep me clear of same. I don't know whether he got busy or it was a cell he was not painting on his old radar (which in the '70s was set up to screen out weather in favor of xponder targets) but I suddenly found myself in what was mess. Severe turbulence, VSI pegged in both directions, wings banking suddenly in excess of 60 degrees, lightning, heavy precip. I usually keep the seat belt cinched tight but the big Jepp binders on the co-pilot seat were bouncing around. It's been more that 30 years and I can't say whether it went of for 5 or 30 minutes but with one hand on the yoke and the other on the throttle I tried to hold maneuvering speed and wings level. It was all I could do. When the controller helpfully pointed out my +3000'+ altitude excursions I thanked him and I assured him I would returned to assigned (probably 9 or 11,000) when able. I bought the Stormscope I had been thinking about immediately after that flight. And I became an even bigger fan of Al Mooney as well. I was confident that if I could keeping flying that the plane would hold together. 

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I'd love to get the full story on this one. Dead stick or off field? Was this in a Mooney?

Well Ross, I do not intend to provide details on all my sins... but this one might be useful to some other poor slob and it's been 45 years so the statue of limitation must have run out by now. I had 150 hours (most of it in an M20E) when I rented a M20G at Dr. Bill's home field, Charlotte Wilgrove, to make a trip to Columbus GA. I should have had plenty of fuel and to spare so I did not fill up in Columbus for the return flight. I had run one tank to the empty line on the gauge and was nearing home when the other tank coughed dry while indicating over 1/3 tank. I immediately switched backed to the "empty tank" and the (carburated) engine came to life. I grabbed the sectional off my passenger's lap, estimated where we were (we'd been just gabbing - it was CAVU) and told Earl to look for a runway just south of a crossing interstate. Newberry SC was practically right under us. I spiraled down but I was not through screwing up. I came in so high to stay safe that about midfield I decided I had to go around! I held my breath and the engine kept running. Taxied in and put 50.2 in the 52 gallon tanks. 50.2 is a number I will never forget and I doubt I've ever landed an airplane with less than 12 gallons on board since. I checked log book #1: 11/8/70, remark: "refueled @ KEOE!".

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The AP is the first thing I disconnect in the face of moderate turbulence.  The AP doesn't have a brain and can't adjust rate of control movement to the intensity of the turbulence.  We can fly our planes much, much better than an AP when things get rough.

You're right, no question.  But autoflight outside of the CB clouds, would have been nice.

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I don't have any harrowing stories to tell, but one time, did get myself in a box I wish I didn't. I don't have any other pilot to blame on board, just my wife (girlfriend at the time, and she still married me)

We were coming back from KCLW to I69 (Sporty's), planning a stop at KDKX (Downtown Knoxville) for a pit stop and a bite. Wx was predicted VFR at KDKX for our arrival, and some mild IFR enroute. It turned out to be quite a bit worse. Gust front while landing direct xwind 25G40, but really no options other than to land as TS completely closed us in. I said outloud about 200' AGL "this might not work"....We landed and literally had to fly the plane until engine off at the FBO when Alice told me what I said outloud. She said she just put her trust in me and relaxed. I am sorry I put her thru this bit of anguish. The skys really opened up before we stopped.

Going missed would have put me in a TS, lesson learned. Give these guys (TS) more berth. My options were few this time and I remind myself of it before each IFR flight I take now. (Along with a whole host of other "experiences")

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Learning lessons is part of gaining experience so here goes.........

I was returning to my home field on a long xcountry above a solid deck of clouds. Ceilings were reported at 1600, well above the minimums so the VOR approach should have been a non issue.

I was flying a very well equipped Archer that had been an instrument trainer in it's previous life, dual com's KN53 and a state of the art KNS80 RNAV as primary navigation. This was way before GPS and moving maps in the cockpit. Anyway I set up for the approach and expect to descend through a layer of clouds and breakout well above minimums to continue the approach VFR for landing.

As I was vectored to the final approach course and cleared for the approach I watched the needle on the CDI but it never came alive, being pegged full scale. As I continued the heading intently watching for the needle to move, the controller calls me with "N12345, were are you going?" and he calls missed and give a new heading to come around for another try. I am puzzled, he is puzzled querying me as to why I didn't join the final approach course. Second try ends up just like the first. Now, the controller is getting upset and questions me about my IFR rating, I am really getting stresses and cannot understand what is happening. I am convinced his radar is somehow goofy and he is flying me in the wrong direction. On the third try, by some miracle I fly into an open pocket of cloudless sky and see the ground, down I go, into the clear and cancel with ATC. Uneventful to a landing.

The issue had me really shook up and questioning all kinds of things. I was convinced that ATC was somehow all messed up. 

On my next flight as I was programming the KNS80 with my waypoints I realize the MODE setting was on RNAV rather than VOR. KNS80 RNAVs were sophisticated electronic marvels of their day. You could program any waypoint in space (just like GPS) by setting the VOR freq, radial and distance (from the VOR). The problem was these setting didn't clear themselves and when you changed MODE to RNAV it would apply whatever radial and distance that had been previously set. I had been trying to fly directly to the VOR on the approach. The MODE should have been set on VOR instead of RNAV and that caused the CDI to look for some spot miles away and that is why it would not center.

 

Lucky for me I blundered into the cloudless hole or I would probably still be circling the approach with a controller old and gray trying to get me lined up on the proper course.

 

Edited by Cruiser
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a very well equipped Archer that had been an instrument trainer in it's previous life, dual com's KN53 and a state of the art KNS80 RNAV as primary navigation. This was way before GPS and moving maps in the cockpit. Anyway I set up for the approach and expect to descend through a layer of clouds and breakout well above minimums to continue the approach VFR for landing.

 

When I returned to flying 4 years ago after a 20 year hiatus I bought a plane with a KNS80. I had had Narco DME and RNAV in my 1st Mooney and loved what they allowed us to do. I hated the fancy KNS80. It and concern for getting sevice for the Narco HSI were the motivation to upgrade my panel. 

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I feel like a total wuss compared to you guys...but on the other hand, I've never soiled my undies nor had to repaint the leading edges of my wings. Since I seldom fly myself "if I have to get there" I tend to be conservative.  Plus, with all the weather on board these days (and my pilot tenure is short enough that I've always had NEXRAD) it's much easier to stay out of the bad stuff.  But there was a trip coming home earlier this summer from Huntsville (see my photo of the Atlas V rocket in that recent thread) that taught me some lessons.  There was a t-storm buildup that was slowly working its way from northwest Georgia toward Atlanta, but I calculated that if I stayed north and then east of it it would blow through and conditions on the backside would be fine.  But once in the air and talking to ATC, they suggested if I flew down the west side of it I could then cut across the city and get into PDK that way.  So I said "okay," and they were right...but just barely.  As I finally made my turn eastward and started screaming in over Dobbins AFB, I was flying through the edges of some heavy precip and gusts (although still in VMC) and when I got to PDK the wind was announced 340 degrees 15G25, and they were still landing on the 21s!  Based on my request they switched the runways for everyone and I was able to circle and land on 3R, and got to the hangar right as the sky started to empty.

Sure enough, 10 minutes later the storm had cleared and conditions were great. So if I had listened to myself rather than ATC's weather routing, I would never have had any excitement. But I guess I might not have learned as much, either. Funny how that works.

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Coming back from an AOPA convention in Palm Springs to Phoenix departed knowing that that the wx was going downhill rapidly in Phoenix.  This is a one hour flight so figured that with the latest wx before departure, we had a good shot at getting back before it really got bad.  So about halfway back, checked in with Flightwatch to learn that there were t-storms all over Phoenix with winds gusting to 60 in some places.  Given that the view ahead looked pretty bad...and the stormscope was lighting up...decided to divert north along the Colorado River to Bullhead City.  Already we were in and out of IMC (mostly buildups) but could see that it was really dark well to the north.  Called up the tower from about 50 miles south to check their wx and seemed like we'd be ok if we got there asap....and we did.  Spent the night in Laughlin, NV (across the river) since the wx in Phoenix wasn't going to improve soon enough.

The real story begins the next morning.  Forecast was for some clouds over the route but clear in Phoenix.  Very typical after a storm passes through the desert.  Well what wasn't forecast so well was the icing.  It was supposed to be AoA 15k so figured we'd be good lower with 11k being right for direction of the flight (MEA was 10k).  Wrong.  Got into the clouds just east of EED VOR...and all was good for 10 minutes or so and then wham - a coating of ice.  And it got worse rapidly (like in a minute)...airspeed dropped by about 35 kts, defrost wouldn't clear the windshield, and nothing but mountains all around.  Probably had about an inch or so of ice...but (thankfully) it wasn't getting worse.  Oh yea, no FIKI.  Droned along thinking that soon we'd get lower and into warmer air...  (What I should have done is turning around immediately at the start of the icing or diverting to KPRC...but didn't.)

Well once we made the turn to Phoenix and started getting lower, the ice melted rapidly.  Phew.

Lesson learned, don't mess with ice...turn around immediately and go back where there was no ice.  Climbing probably wouldn't have helped since tops were well above.  And lower wasn't an option. 

 

 

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The one that still gets my heart racing is the time I nearly lost it over the Laurentians. I was enroute from Ottawa to Goose Bay, flying in the clear at 15,000 through a thick deck over the Gulf of St. Lawrence when my wife texted me to make a stop in Sept-Iles to pick up a passenger. "No problem-o" I replied, and obtained a clearance from ATC for the approach into CYZV, which was 3M and OVC010 at the time. I switched off the ALT hold mode on the autopilot, and initiated a 500/min descent down through a thick stratus deck that will be very familiar to East Coast fliers - thick as soup and full of ice, but no turbulence.

Somewhere around 11,000 I experienced an intense feeling of spatial disorientation. I did my scan, trusting that my instruments would set me straight, only to discover  that there was about a 30º and widening difference in roll indications between my vacuum driven KI-256 flight director and my standby electric AI. As I puzzled this, my airspeed was edging up into the yellow, my altitude indicator started to unwind, and the VSI began a precipitous drop...

I uncoupled the autopilot, and felt the controls unload significantly. At some level, I grasped that the vacuum had failed, that the KI-256 was precessing, and that the autopilot was just doing its best to keep up as it put us into a spiral dive. But in real life, I was far to focused on trying to get airspeed under control (now well into the red) so that I could roll back level and try to pull out of the dive.

The VSI was pegged at -2000 FPM, the altimeter was unwinding like a broken clock, and I could hear the wind roaring over the now idling engine and over ATCs repeated calls to "SAY ALTITUDE" as I plummeted towards the mountains below. It felt like a lifetime, but I finally rolled level and brought my descent under control, still in IMC, at about 2000' - well below the MSA. I swore profoundly in both official languages, and informed ATC that I would not be stopping in Sept-Isles after all, as I didn't think that I could manage an approach. 

My wife met me at the airport in Goose a few hours later. She told me that she'd been following my progress on Flightaware, and thought that my descent looked a "little funny".

Yeah, it certainly was.

 

 

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