Flight 104

2N8-W91-KAVL-0A7

C172M

6.5 hrs solo; 3 landings

[LEG 1]

"Enroute New Orleans- good VFR weather, longest leg so far... tricky finding W91 among the lakes. Good landing"


Amazingly, my schedule, the weather, and the plane's airworthiness and availability have all come together on this fine September morning. As I prepare 3KK and secure my backpack to the passenger seat so that my flight materials and refreshments will be handy, I feel a little criminal- are they really letting me take this airplane so far, for so long? Should I have made a more formal request? Will someone call me and say "Hey! Wait a minute..."?

I decide to get the hell out of there before that happens, taking off with full tanks into a blue sky peppered with small picturesque clouds at about 8000.

My plan is to break the trip into two days each way, even though I could probably just keep going until dark and probably make it all the way to New Orleans. I don't want to get overly tired, and as I will discover, the weather could force me to divide the trip into two days.

Level at 6500, I head SW for the Robbinsville VOR, my first waypoint. From there I head for the Smyrna VOR near Dover, passing Cross Keys Airport. There's a light headwind, and I make fairly good time to each waypoint, surprising myself with my accuracy in finding them. 3KK has a GPS, but I haven't botherd to learn how to use it except to reference ground speed.

I cross the Potomac River, flying right over the little island midriver that I'd marked on the chart, and soon I'm abeam Patuxent's huge military airfield, about two hours after departing 2N8. I'm using Flight Following, occasionally breaking away to call Flight Watch for weather updates.

Twenty minutes later, I'm over Virginia, passing the point at which I would turn for my alternate at Farmville. The weather looks good ahead, so I press on for the Lynchburg VOR, where I begin my descent.

Smith Mountain Lake scrolls into view, and as I get lower I see that the lake, made by damming a valley, appears not as one lake, as on the chart, but as a cluster of small lakes. Now I wish I'd learned to use the GPS, because I cannot find the airport. I continue south to where the dam is, then double back from there. Soon enough, I spy W91, and approach for a good landing, three hours and forty minutes after departure.

After topping off the tanks with 25 gallons of 100LL, I head to the FBO for a pit stop of my own. It's very quiet here this afternoon, but suddenly I hear excited voices- whooping, laughing- approaching me.

 I look around and don't see anybody...are they in the woods? They sound so close, why can't I see them?
Suddenly I realize they are above me- a group of skydivers, including some first-timers in tandem. They alight nearby with much giggling, and someone says "I wanna do that again!"

The jump plane arrives while I'm inside, then I have the field to myself again as I depart, hoping to make Rome, GA for my last stop of the day.

[LEG 2]

"Forced back from hills SE of Asheville due to lowering clouds & mist- got fuel at AVL, then camped at 0A7"

Climbing this time to 7500, I steer 3KK on a heading to pick up an outbound radial from the Lynchburg VOR, which will put me on Victor Airway 222. Another 30 miles from there, I pass my first visual waypoint: Philpott Reservoir, with a town nearby. I am almost 5 minutes ahead of schedule at my next waypoint, where a railroad line crosses a highway, on a 90 degree bearing from the Mount Airy NDB.
I'm finding that my interest in such multiple-source waypoints is paying off on this trip: I'm keeping on a nearly straight line to to my destination without flying only by dead reckoning for extended periods.

The lush, green landscape below is getting hillier, and I soon notice the scattered layer is looking more like a broken layer, and it's getting lower. By the time I reach Sugarloaf Mountain VOR, not quite two hours after departure, I've advised Raleigh Approach that I'm descending to 7000 to stay in VMC.

The controller is very busy, but acknowledges me. I'm close to Asheville now, which lies nestled in a crook on the eastern edge of the Appalachians, and I can see that the foothills extend across my route to the south. The tops of the hills are shrouded in scud, now. I see a pass ahead, and I can see from the chart that there is a wide valley beyond. But getting closer, I can see only white through the pass.

Over my shoulder and to the east, the sky looks much the same as it did north of here.

"ThreeKiloKilo; Raleigh Approach... how you doing?" It's Raleigh Approach.

"Doing okay; thanks". I am still hopeful that I might continue ahead, somehow.

"You do realize you are heading into lowering clouds near the minimum safe altitude for IFR in this area...?"

"Uh... roger."

It's time to make a decision.

I decide to turn around, climbing as I do so in order to turn south again and see if I might get on top or make my way among the buildups. I consider advising the  Raleigh controller, but he is suddenly very busy talking to several other flights.
 Just as I complete this maneuver and see that I cannot continue along my planned course, Raleigh calls me again:

"ThreeKilokilo, what are you doing?

"Uhhh... I just climbed and turned around to have a better look at the clouds..."

"Okay... but next time you're changing heading more than 30 degrees and climbing or descending more than 500 feet, let me know... I just had to move half a dozen pieces of IFR hardware around you."

I am mortified. Seems I've not been monitoring the Big Picture. There are airplanes in those clouds, flying IFR in and out of Asheville, and at any moment one of them might have popped out near my location.

"Uh... sorry about that..."

"That's okay. What would you like to do now?"

"Uh... I'd like vectors VFR to Asheville."

"Good idea."

He has me descend a bit, then take up a heading that brings me close to the wall of cloud, where I will then follow a highway until I see the airport.
 I know there are numerous tall towers atop big hills in this area, and sure enough, as I pick up the highway into Asheville, in barely-legal VMC, one of them appears in the mist off my right wing. I am below its top, which I cannot see very clearly.

 I suddenly realize that I have been very foolish, but have redeemed myself by asking for help. I also realize I am very lucky.

Soon enough, I'm approaching Asheville, number two to land behind a USAF T-37 Dragonfly, and I can see that visibilty is still quite good to the north and northeast.

I know that there is a small airport just up the road that allows overnight camping, so after refueling at Asheville, checking the weather again, and asking a local just how easy it might be to find the other airport ("Can't miss it- right up the road about 10 miles"), I head off at about 2000 AGL to the east, landing at Hendersonville Airport, where I will spend the night.

The airport manager greets me warmly, and directs me to a large, mostly-vacant shade hangar, where I can tie down 3KK and set up my tent for a total of $10 a night.

After closing my flight plan, securing the plane and setting up camp, I take a little walk past the row of open T-hangars along the runway. Inside one, I spy a man working on his Bowers Fly Baby. He asks me to hold one exhaust manifold for a moment while he fastens it, and we chat about the plane, my flight, flying in general,and the local weather.

He informs me that there will be a little cookout and bluegrass jam at another hangar this evening, and that I'm invited. He also tells me that if I stop at 0A7 again on my way home, I'm welcome to sleep in his hangar if I'm so inclined.

I stop by the other hangar later to have some food, listen to the music, and make my hellos before retiring. One of the other local pilots chuckles when I tell him my tale.

"You should've just turned east- lower terrain and clear skies. I was out that way about the same time.
"But you made a smart choice- there's a lot of aluminum out in those hills," he says, gesturing south.

By the time I crawl into my tent to sleep, I'm still embarrased, but also a little proud- I made it all the way to North Carolina, and lived to tell about it!