Pilot's Blog

I've had plenty of opportunities to brush up on my instrument skills lately. It has been rainy. It has been foggy and plenty dark.

This morning I departed in darkness, rain and clouds, cleared to Visalia. The weather forecast for Visalia was for fog and visibility of 1/2 mile, not clear enough to make it, but Fresno International was an acceptable alternate with a slightly better forecast.

After breaking out of the rain and getting on top of the cloud layer, things began to brighten up as the day broke. The rest of the way was a mixture of rain showers and clear spots, and as I crossed over Fresno I got a clear view of the airport and most of the city. That was a very good thing. If Visalia was not possible I could easily come back and land at Fresno.

After Fresno the haze on the ground began to thicken. I dialed up the automated weather observation on the radio. Visalia was reporting 1 1/2 miles of visibility, not a lot, but enough to make an attempt.

The controller cleared me for the procedure, and as a lowered into the haze layer my forward visibility was greatly reduced. I tracked my position on the GPS and was lined up with the runway, only 2 miles out, but I couldn't see it. I reached what is called the "decision height" and leveled as I glanced up and down from the instruments to the windshield and back.

Like the light at the end of a tunnel, the runway numbers solidified in my vision, and seconds later I was flaring for the landing. Yes.

Last week I was flying with the family on board over to the North Coast. It was severe clear and smooth, with a hundred miles of visibility. We had climbed to about 8000 feet to clear the coast range mountains, and I was letting out some altitude, still about 25 miles out.

I stole a glance into the passenger cabin, noting that everyone, including my wife, was fast asleep. I brought my gaze back to the front and scanned the area for other aircraft.

I focused my attention on the engine gauges, all looked well. I checked the course, the descent rate, and the altitude. We were at 5500 feet, while the terrain below us was about 2000 feet.

I looked up again, out the front windshield, and saw about 20 targets right in front, closing fast. It was a flock of geese.

There wasn't much I could do. We were doing 170 mph and they were close enough to identify species, so I instinctively hunkered low in my seat.

I had read accounts of birds hitting windscreens and hitting pilots in the head, causing serious injuries and even incapacitating the pilot or the airplane. I quickly wondered what it might do to the propeller or leading edge of the wing if impacted.

Luckily for me the birds made their evasive maneuver just perfectly, and the flock literally opened a door for me to pass through. They all flashed by us in an instant, and once again the sky in front was clear.

I was surprised. The times when I have been worried about bird strikes have been at much lower altitudes. My home airport is adjacent to a wildlife refuge filled with hundreds of thousands of ducks and geese. I expected my first bird strike would be on a rainy approach into home base, not way up in the clear sky out near the coast.

After my heart returned to it's normal pattern, I shot a look back to the passenger cabin. All still sleeping.

I have started a new blog, which is focused on fatherhood. Find it at here.

On a recent trip I crossed over the lake just before the sun came up. I crossed the desolation wilderness area and just over the ridge as the lake in all her glory spread out before me. The winds were calm, and the surface of the lake was a perfect mirror of the mountains beyond. Here and there along the surface, wisps of fog, looking more like silken lace, clung to the water and rocky coves. There were no boats moving, nothing to disturb the quiet beauty. I swept over the pass at Kingsbury Grade, and adjusted my course towards Tonapah.

T

Teddy missed school yesterday with a high fever. We visited the pediatrician that afternoon, and because he is a member of a "high risk" household (i.e. Daisy) they swabbed him and tested for Swine Flu. Positive. Deep breath.

He seems to be weathering it pretty well. His fever has broken and he wants to go outside. No one else in the family has shown symptoms, but I hear it is very contagious. The doctor prescribed an anti-viral medicine for Daisy, a sort of "preemptive strike." Ironically, we were all scheduled to be vaccinated tomorrow.

Last night, after the kids were asleep, I played back the 60 minutes episode I had recorded on DVR from Sunday night. A mistake. They profiled a high school football player, now on life support, one of the 1% or so that for some reason is violently affected by the virus. Will Daisy be in trouble if she gets it?

This video doesn't do justice to the sights we beheld. Flight rules recently adopted forced us to cross at 10,000 feet, which doesn't provide for the best viewing.

Today I climbed a rock formation outside Sedona, Arizona and stood inside a "Vortex." Now I am not very knowledgeable on the subject, but it was told to me that sometimes photography picks up "orbs" of energy that the naked eye can't see. I took this photo several times, but this is the only one that had the diagonal light rays...hmm.

Anyway, Sedona is one of the most beautiful and interesting places I have seen. I had the privilege of flying my 82 year old auntie and some cousins to Sedona for the weekend for a family reunion. The flight included a crossing of a whole lot of desert and also the Grand Canyon.

Daisy's loving Godmother, Corey, resides in the South of France. She finally made her annual visit home this past week and came over to visit with her "miracle child," as she says. Corey is a wonderful photographer and took some beautiful pictures in our yard.
To see the photos, and her entry, click on or paste this address to your browser.

www.willows95988.typepad.com/tongue_cheek/2009/10/a-day-with-daisy.html

Corey's blog is very popular and creative, and she came to me with some ideas. She suggested that there was a need out there for a "Daddy Blog," and that I am just the man for the job.

So, taking her advice, I have launched a new blog, dedicated exclusively to my experiences as a daddy. I will do my best to keep it interesting and creative. If you are interested in joining the feed, please visit my new blog at the following address.

www.daisydaddy.com

I will continue to write "Pilot's Blog," focusing on my piloting adventures. So please join me in my new blogging adventure.

A beautiful autumn Saturday in Chico calls for a dusting off of the tandem bicycle and a ride into town to the farmer's market! Our Trek tandem is set up with a baby seat for one kid, and then we put the other two "chillins" in a tow behind burley trailer. (I should have taken a picture of the set up...it is quite a sight.)

It's about 8 miles into downtown Chico from our house, but the ride is very pleasant along either a bike path or quiet country lanes.

Once at the market, the trailer converts to a double stroller, and the storage compartment has room for tons of produce. We enjoyed a sandwich at the bakery downtown and almost made it back home for naptime.

The family time was fantastic. Sara and I had a rare adult conversation as we pedaled along. The five of us on one bicycle drew many smiles and stares even here in the number one bike town.

My clients just wanted to get home, and they trusted me to get them there. We departed Watsonville about 10 PM and climbed north over the Silicon Valley and the San Francisco Bay. A steady line of commercial jet aircraft could be seen approaching SFO from the south, and the twinkling landscape below was mesmerizing.

As we left the bay area, lights became more sparse, but I could still see and identify all the familiar towns along the way; Vacaville, Fairfield, Dixon, Davis, Woodland, Arbuckle, Williams, Willows, Orland, Red Bluff, and finally Redding.

After Redding, however, everything just went black. The dark, hulking mountains began to rise up underneath us, and although I knew that we had sufficient altitude to clear them, it still raised my awareness just a bit. There were a few lights ahead as we came over the rise, and in the moonlight I could see the hulking mass of Mount Shasta just off to our right, towering 8000 feet above us.

About 5 miles out from the airport at Mt. Shasta, as we descended into the valley, I clicked my mike 5 times on the traffic frequency, and as advertised, the airport runway lit up like a Christmas tree. I was happy for that, because if it didn't, I'd be turning around and heading back. It was a particularly challenging approach, as the slope indicator lights that aid in judging the descent were not working. And on top of that it was very windy and the airplane was being jostled about.

I cast a glance into the passenger compartment, and they were both dosing. I took the approach methodically and it worked out, lucky for me, perfectly.

The frigid mountain night air was just what I needed to jolt me for the hour's flight home. I crept into bed about 1:30 AM, a far cry from my usual 10 PM bedtime.

Daisy enjoys performing with her sister more than brother does!