Mountain IFR

Of Virgil and ARTCC

Some pilots cling to the past regarding new aircraft equipment with suspicion until it meets “their” approval, not some, in their opinion, asinine PMA, TSO, or STC; reserving their judgment until after they ferret out the pros and cons. These pilots view many of these items as expensive gadgets, another way of gouging money from an airman. Virgil was such a man.

When LORAN came out, Virgil investigated and liked everything he read except the precipitation static problem. He was told the radio would up and quit with no warning when flying in rain or snow, but overall he liked its characteristics. And since he often flew into the Idaho Primitive Area and other out-of-the-way airstrips during good weather, he thought this would solve his navigation problems.

On a day when other pilots preferred to remain grounded, Virgil as obstinate and bull-headed as ever, decided it was time to brave the weather and depart from Johnson Creek, an airstrip south of the South Fork of the Salmon River in western Idaho. He often came here to relax and do a little fishing. He preferred the quiet life of camping, fishing and hunting to the rush and turmoil of city life.

This miserable weather was nothing like the forecast, an occasional afternoon or evening shower. Yesterday had been spent inside reading while torrents of wind-lashed rain poured from black clouds, effectively making him a prisoner of his tent.

The prolonged rains had the potential to turn the grass strip into a quagmire from which he couldn't escape for several days after the sun returned. No, the time had come for him to move on.

While he waited for a hole in sky, he conducted a meticulous preflight of his Cessna 180. Then he stood around the campfire swapping stories with other pilots waiting for a break in the weather. In this isolated section of the country, there are no telephones and no line-of-sight communication by airplane radio. A pilot departs at his own risk.

“You know, Jerry,” Virgil began, “if this out-in-the-boondocks airport had a telephone, I could get a void time clearance and not have to wait around to get out of here.”

“Yeah, but if it had a telephone you wouldn't be coming here.”

“You're right about that. And besides, there's no SID to help avoid obstacles during the climb out to MEA. By the way, did you know obstacle clearance is based on your aircraft being able to climb at 200 feet per nautical mile, crossing the end of the runway at 35 feet AGL, and climbing to 400 feet above airport elevation before turning.”

“No, I can't say that I did. Where did you get all this information?”

“I picked up a copy of “TERPS, Terminal Instrument Procedures Manual, “and have been glancing through it. It makes flying IFR a little scary. If there are obstacles around an airport they figure the slope for these obstacles at 152 feet per nautical mile. That only gives you 48 feet of obstacle clearance per mile at minimum performance. When they get into a situation where obstacles penetrate this slope, they make up elaborate departure maneuvers like those at Missoula, Montana, that require a greater-than-normal climb gradient, like Jackson, Wyoming, or they publish a ceiling and visibility minimum so you can see and avoid the hurdles before entering the clouds.”

At last, the clouds opened a little. Virgil was able to see the top of Golden Gate Hill about three miles north of the airstrip. The other higher mountains were still obscured by clouds, but Virgil thought the “sucker hole” was large enough to climb up and get a clearance from center. If the clouds started to close in, he would let down and land.

“Well, Jerry, this looks like my chance. See you later.”

“Yeah, you take care. And, keep the shiny side up.”

Virgil departed. Pop-up IFR was no problem. The Salt Lake Center controllers accommodate pilots, knowing they are unable to file a flight plan or communicate in any other manner from the ground. So Virgil headed east, direct to Jackson, Wyoming. Of all the things Virgil did with his life, nothing pleased or satisfied him more than flying. Flying at 15,000 feet, enveloped in clouds, his attention wandered between thoughts of maintaining aircraft control and calling Idaho Falls Radio for a weather briefing.

“Idaho Falls Radio, Cessna N7039W, on 122.6.”

“Cessna 39W, Idaho Falls.”

“Good morning, 39W is IFR, Big Creek to Jackson. Do you have time for a weather briefing?”

“39W, do you have the latest advisory for eastern Idaho?”

“That's negative, I've been camping for the last three days.”

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