The day prior had been a wild one weatherwise. The bulk of the bad weather had been to the north of us, but a little rogue cell popped up west of Champaign and eventually grew to such monstrous proportions it birthed a funnel cloud. My wife got a nice picture of of the evil little cloud as she was trying to hustle our boys into the basement.
The storm system left plenty of sun in its wake, but threw in a healthy dose of heat, humidity and blustery winds as a parting shot. These kind of conditions, while anything but hard IFR, always make for some of the most challenging training flights. The simmering cockpit, constant jostling from turbulence and crazy wind correction angles can quickly get your head spinning when you're under the hood.
A quick aside for those wondering what "the hood" is -
The hood is an IFR training device that looks a little like an overgrown tennis visor. When worn properly it blocks out any outside visual cues, leaving the pilot in command with nothing but a view of the flight instruments. On bright, sunny days the hood makes it possible to simulate IMC (Instrument Meteorological Conditions), otherwise known as clouds/fog/rain etc. Of course, flying alone while wearing the hood is frowned upon, so you take along a qualified spotter pilot to scope out traffic for you.
Today's flight was a quick one. Straight line distance is just 75 nautical miles and we filed direct. Winds at the surface were gusty and variable from the south. The direction of winds at the filed altitude of 4,000 ft were almost perpendicular to our ground track and about 10 knots stronger. Between the heat and winds, I anticipated a very bumpy ride.
We were given 14L as our departure runway. Winds favored runway 22 but the Institute students (or their instructors rather) were taking advantage of the challenging winds to practice crosswind takeoffs and landings on 14L and 14R . This was in the exact opposite direction we were headed, but the crosswind takeoff practice would do me good too.
As anticipated, the heat and humidity made Eight Delta Fox a tad sluggish on initial climbout. She rallied nicely, though, after I got the flaps up and was soon indicating a respectable 700-800 foot per minute climb. Departure had us climb away from the field on runway heading for quite a while. At least until they were satisfied our turn back toward Peoria wouldn't disturb the swarm of student pilots buzzing around the pattern.
Once on course I turned the autopilot on and started briefing the expected approach. We'd just taken off, but Eight Delta Fox can gobble up 75 miles in nothing flat if the winds are right. The XM weather link on the MFD (Multi-Function Display) indicated winds at Peoria favored runway 22, so I selected the corresponding RNAV (GPS) approach. Once I and my right seater were satisfied we knew what was going to happen on arrival, we spent a little time looking out the windows.
Not far past Bloomington, we were handed off to Peoria Approach and I put on the hood. Sure enough, runway 22 was active and we were told to expect vectors for the approach. As we got closer, the controller cleared us direct to the MAROC initial approach fix. I opted to let the autopilot fly the approach since I rarely do that and I needed the practice punching buttons and turning knobs.
As we descended through 3,000 feet, things started to get bumpy. The autopilot was working hard to stay on course and maintain the programmed rate of descent. A little throttle jockeying was necessary to stabilize airspeed. I was getting a mild case of vertigo too. It's times like these that make it hard to simply go along for the ride and my thumb was hovering over the autopilot disconnect. Still, even with all the gyrations, I have to admit George (the autopilot) was doing a better job than I would have tracking the approach course.
When we made the turn to final at the WEKAR approach fix, the autopilot rolled out with a perfect 20+ degree wind correction angle. Truthfully I could've too since the PFD (Primary Flight Display) has a ground track line that shows my actual direction over the ground vs the heading of the nose, but I doubt I could've held altitude as precisely.
My spotter pilot would occasionally give me an update on the sight picture out the front. He said we had a pretty aggressive wind correction angle. I could see that on the PFD but it's always a little more dramatic when you see it out the windscreen. About two miles from the runway I disconnected the autopilot and raised the hood to take a look. Below me was a carpet of trees slowly rising to meet the approach end of the runway. I'd forgotten KPIA sat atop a hill.
A mile from the threshold I dropped full flaps and began the dance of rudder, stick and throttle that accompanies any gusty crosswind landing. I held a little extra airspeed in case the wind suddenly died down and tried to drop me into the trees. As I crossed the runway threshold that extra speed took its time bleeding off and made me work like a madman to hold centerline while I waited for the plane to quit flying. Thankfully I was rewarded for my efforts with a better than average landing.
After taxiing to the ramp and shutting down, my friend collected his plane and I availed myself of the FBO's facilities and free cookies. Soon we were each back in our respective planes and headed out. I was first in line for takeoff. It wasn't long after I'd made my turn toward Champaign and was climbing through 2,000 feet that I heard my friend, who had just left the runway, check onto the Peoria Departure frequency climbing through the same altitude. Show off.
His plane has a 110hp advantage over mine and he was apparently eager to remind me of that fact. I was still clawing my way through 4,000 when he passed me about 2 miles off my right wing. I watched as he slowly pulled away into the haze. As I passed south of Bloomington, Peoria handed both my friend and I off to Champaign at the same time. He hadn't gotten as far ahead of me as I thought.
Checking in with Champaign I was told to expect the visual for runway 14L. There was a lot of chatter which seemed to indicate the student pilots were still busy honing their skills. The pattern would be just as crowded as I'd left it.
About 4 miles out I started lining up with the runway. I noticed right away that the wind drift was pushing me toward the centerline with little effort of my own. A glance at the wind vector on the PFD indicated winds aloft were directly across my path. Winds at the surface were 190 at 15 knots gusting to 20+.
As the wind pushed me into the centerline of the runway, I started dialing in the wind correction angle to hold it. And I kept dialing. And I kept dialing. Soon I was looking out the left side of the windscreen at the runway. On paper a 50 degree crosswind seemed aggressive but it looked even more so out the front.
I was just about to ask the tower for a wind check when a pilot on the parallel runway did it for me. It appears I wasn't the only one that thought things looked a little hairier than advertised. Tower came back and said winds at that moment were 190 at 18 knots. It really looked like more than that.
As at Peoria, I found myself having to rapidly juggle stick, rudder and throttle to hold glide slope and centerline. As before, my efforts were rewarded with a respectable landing. I sucked up the flaps as soon as the nosewheel touched down. I didn't want a wind gust to get me flying again before I had a chance to slow down.
My friend, whose hangar happens to be next to mine, hadn't been shut down long when I pulled up. He apparently beat me to Champaign by just a few minutes. He hadn't even gotten his hangar door open yet. Guess that 110 hp advantage didn't mean much on such a short trip. I'm sure had we been flying a much greater distance, he would've been buttoned up and sipping tea on his porch by the time I got back.
I can't say this flight was one my favorites, but I did have a sense of accomplishment. I could use more like it.
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