I Really Do Fly... Honest

Let's just say that I am busy... really busy.  When presented with the opportunity to fly or write about flying, guess which one wins?  You guessed it - flying.  To date, I have spent 92.2 hours in the Bonanza - 61.4 of them within the past year.  Obviously, I'm not flying as much as I'd prefer. 

I figured I drop by here and talk about the family flight taken back in July.  It is far more interesting than shooting approaches or making a $100 hamburger run, which has been the majority of my flying since this trip. 

I Don't Need No Sleep!

Unlike previous years where our trip where the Banana and the Boy get dropped off at Camp Grandma, a business trip was scheduled right before our flight.  The plan was that I was to get home about 9 pm Saturday night, and we would be off mid-morning on Sunday.   There is a Yiddish expression: "Man makes plans.  G-d laughs."  

My return trip from DCA was quite less than ideal.  Right after arriving at the airport, I watched as a very strong thunderstorm made its way toward the field.  It was a very large system that disrupted pretty much all traffic coming to and from the middle of the East Coast.  As a result of this, my plane was delayed at ORD as they waited for the storm to pass and traffic to normalize.  Ninety minutes or so after we were scheduled to depart, our aircraft lands and taxis to the gate.  Great! 

Or not.  One of the pilots who was to fly us back to ORD timed out, and thus we had to wait on a crew.  Swell.  Two hours later, said crew member arrives and we FINALLY start boarding.  Unfortunately, the ground air conditioner was inoperative and it got pretty steamy in the cabin very quickly.  As we seem to be making final preparations to leave, I hear one of the engines cycling up and down.  This is not good.  Just as I finished sharing this concern with the man sitting next to me, the pilot comes on to announce that they have an engine issue.  The ground crew disconnected the APU before the engine was prepared to accept the load of the generators, which overheated the engine.  Really, Republic (I'll blame them and not United since it was them running the equipment)!?!?!  You do this how many times a day? Fantastic.  

Thirty-five minutes later, and we learn that the issue is resolved and they are awaiting the logbook entries so that they can depart.  "Um, the only thing that I can see happening is that if we are not underway in the next 20 minutes or so, I will time out and will no longer be legal to fly."  Really?  Time now is 10:53 pm Eastern.  

Fortunately, we made it out of there.  After a few more opportunities to practice patience and restraint, I finally got home at 1:30 am.  Sleep... sort of.  

Curse You, "Cold" Front!

I can't really say WHY it was called a cold front.  It would be more accurately described as "only hot as Hell" while the one in front of it was "hotter than Hell."  An "only hot as Hell" front was pushing through, and thus a squall line from north of Milwaukee curving southwest to below St. Louis was working its way through.  I woke up far earlier than I think I needed to and began packing and monitoring the weather situation.  

I really was not amused by what I was seeing, and I really was less impressed with the the thought of driving a total of 13 hours or so this particular day.  As time moved on, it appeared to me that the storm was dissipating over Lake Michigan.  This just might leave us a good enough hole to get through.  I planned to fly over the lake though that hole, over Detroit and Cleveland, and on toward KDUJ.  We'd depart, have a look, and if it it was bad we'd turn back. 

I shared this plan with my wife - something I don't normally do.  However, one can easy see the traps into which I was vulnerable of falling.  I REALLY did not want to drive that long, and if I"m going to go out there and have a look then there is pressure to soldier on into deteriorating and dangerous conditions.  I said, "pay attention, and if I start getting bull headed remind me that I said that I was going back rather than taking a chance."  

A Mostly Nice Trip

After arriving at the airport, speaking with a weather briefer about my plan, and loading up the Bonanza, we took off in the most unusual direction of north.  Typically when going toward Northern Ohio and Pennsylvania, I'd head south to southeast around the lake.  I was also taught that it was a very bad idea to fly a single engine plane over water when one is out of glide distance.  Since I was going to violate that teaching today, I provided a very careful brief about how to get out of the plane in the event that quick egress was required.  A note to self and others: this does more to increase anxiety than anything else. 

As you can see from the picture below, the sky opened up and the trip was conducted almost exclusively in VMC.

The skies open up!

 Although this screen shot shows a fairly old radar picture, it was only somewhat more narrow than it is shown on this map.  Also, let's just say that I'm very happy that we were going east.  Behold, most GLORIOUS tailwinds at 9000:

That's like 253 miles per hour!

On a TAS of 160, this ground speed is fantastic.  This means that I made it from DuPage (KDPA) to DuBois (KDUJ) in about 2.5 hours - including flying north to just before Milwaukee's Charlie to KMKG, getting vectored around Detroit, and finally on to our destination.  This was a hit amongst the family.   

What was not so popular was the increasing heat and rather unpleasant up-and down-drafts as we were on approach to DUJ.  My poor son became airsick as my family took the most bumpy ride they have ever had in a small airplane.  Fortunately, there are provisions for such things in the airplane for such occasions.  

Before moving on, I must tell a story on the ground crew at DuBois.  As we were unloading, an airport worker came speeding toward us in his golf cart to ask us about fuel.  I usually take on fuel, and made that request.  "Well, that's what I was coming up here to tell you about.  See, we don't have no fuel and we won't have any for a few more days." 

"Was there a NOTAM?"  (I had not seen one, but it could have gone up after we departed). 

"Naw, our computer that we do that on is down." 

"So, you could call Lockheed." 

This was aggravating.  Fortunately, between the engine analyzer we had installed at annual and my keep meticulous track of time on each tank, I was able to determine that we had plenty of fuel to make it to our final destination.  However, this could have been a real problem as the V-tail Bonanza has a placarded limitation about taking off with less than a certain amount of fuel in each tank. 

My wife and I were in a hurry, and she was also not feeling terribly well after that hot and bumpy approach.  After stretching and taking care of some pilot and passenger comfort, Mrs. Dr. Flying Shrink and I again departed and turned toward Queen City/Allentown (KXLL) to see our friends.  

Can You Hear Me Now?

All was progressing just fine until about I switched over to talk to Harrisburg approach.  Suddenly, I could hear them but they could not hear me very well.  I was yelling just to send a loud enough signal.  Not cool.  We landed at KXLL - much to the relief of Ms. Dr. Flying Shrink and her uneasy stomach - but no one heard me coming in.  It explained why an aircraft took the runway while I was on a mile final. 

We unloaded and were taken to our friends' home, just five minutes before dinner was served and the wine began to flow.  I had taken on what felt like on of the most challenging flights of my flying career, and comfortably lived to tell about it.  Fatigue, some pressure to complete the mission quickly and in the most efficient way possible, weather, sick passengers, and radio problems all affected this flight - and quite honestly, I was pooped.  

The next day, I went out to the field to figure out what was wrong with my radio.  My plane was towed into the shop.  While I was waiting, I updated the GPS database and decided to test those radios ago.  They worked.  I changed to my usual headset, and it worked as well.  WTF?  Let's just say that after flying later in the week to Virginia (KOKV - Winchester Regional) for a few day couple-oriented vacation as well as flying back to KDPA, I learned that the problem had to be an intermittent short in my headset.  We'll see if the warranty will take care of this problem.

The Rest...

As mentioned, Ms. Dr. Flying Shrink and I took the hour flight down to KOKV for a bit of exploration of the Shenandoah Valley.  I expected a relatively straight shot, but instead I was sent almost all the way to Dulles (KIAD).  But it was an otherwise routine flight.  

On the return trip to KDUJ from KOKV, we had very strong thunderstorms moving southeast over Johnstown, so again we had to do some creative avoidance to get to our destination.  The next day, we were back to KDPA with plenty of cloud time and a race against more thunderstorms.  

Reflections

As I mentioned above, I was quite tired when I undertook the flight from KDPA to KDUJ and then on to KXLL.  I was quite aware of the internal and external pressure I felt to take the flight and complete it, but believe I mitigated this by making certain promises to myself and sharing them with my wife - who would talk me out of my tendency to believe everything will work out OK.  My real concern is why I did not really appreciate what it might mean that Harrisburg could not hear me, and thus why I didn't try to do something about it.  I suspect that it had something to do with my increasing fatigue level.  

I am reasonably sure that I would not have taken this trip hard IFR - even with our reasonable autopilot - because I was just not up to it.  11.7 hours in the logbook, a new state (Virginia), and a few new experiences (e.g., flying over open water).  Nice.  

Summer Adentures in a "New" Arrow

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L'Dor V'Dor (From Generation to Generation)

On November 26, I had a very interesting and unique opportunity: to take both my father and maternal grandfather for their first flights in a small airplane.  Unfortunately, this had to be done in two separate flights because we all take up more of a share of the weight limitations of the planes I can fly than any of us would like.  On the bright side, I got to fly more... ok, I guess that makes up for it.  Since the plan was to fly along the Chicago shoreline, the clouds just had to be "high enough."  Despite a 3500 foot overcast, the ride was quite smooth. 

"Killer"

Ever since I was a young child, I have called my grandfather "Killer."  The story goes that when I first met him (they lived a long way away), I kept asking him what his name was.  Apparently, I was smart enough to question his answer of "Killer."  However, the playful name has always stuck.  Tuesday morning, Killer and I got in the car and headed for Waukegan (KUGN) to load up in one of Skill Aviation's Skyhawks.  On the drive up, we talked about a number of things - possibly more than he and I have ever sat and discussed.  We talked about his transition to being a widower (I talked about my flight home to bury my grandmother here), his move into a smaller apartment in an assisted living facility, and his experience with small aircraft.  Turns out his last trips in small aircraft included helicopters, large munitions, and Korea.  I explained that I did not expect any anti-aircraft fire on today's flight.  

We arrived at Skill, and after the pre-flight we loaded up 97VA, a G1000-equipped model that would serve as our trusty steed for the day.

"Killer" and the Flying Shrink preparing to depart Waukegan (KUGN)

Getting Killer into this plane was a challenge, but it would have been impossible for him to crawl into the Diamond Star.  Although Killer is pretty stoic overall, even he was having a hard time containing his excitement.  The pre-flight briefing was delivered, and we lit the fires and prepared for departure.
We lifted off of Runway 23 and headed south toward Gary, Indiana (KGYY).  Normally, I would hand fly this trip, but today I used the auto-pilot more than I might have otherwise because I really wanted to show Killer the sites (I'd say it was a 65/35 split).  He had not seen it before, and honestly may not get a chance to see it again.  He is 82 and not in the best of health.  As I would glance over at him, he was still having a hard time containing his smile. 

As we approached Gary, I explained the normal traffic pattern as I expected this to feel quite unusual to him.  After initially being cleared to land on 20 (essentially a right base to final turn coming from the north), the clearance was changed to enter right traffic for 30 for conflicting traffic.  Now, that was a mighty large jet that touched down ahead of me for not receiving a warning about wake turbulence.  However, I made my own correction and all was well.

We taxied back to 30 and I sent a text message to my mother that they should leave "now."  I thought that was pretty unambiguous, but as we shall see it caused confusion.  Lifting off again we were enroute to Chicago Executive (KPWK) as this airfield is the closest to my home.  The plan was that we would land there, have lunch, and then I'd give my second first flight of the day.  As we worked our way in from the shoreline, I continued pointing out landmarks such as my house and things near my home.  "Man, we are awful close to the ground."  Indeed, we were at 1700' MSL, which is just around 1000' AGL.  I explained that the jet traffic into O'Hare does not appreciate us in their way, and that getting too much higher would result in an uncomfortable conversation with the FAA.

Touchdown on 34 at PWK was not exactly a greeser, but it was good enough and got the approval of the passenger.  Perhaps I'm too hard on myself.   As I got into Signature, I sent another message to my mother wondering where they were.  Just leaving?!?!?!?!  Sigh.  I guess we will have a cup of coffee and wait for them.  Killer said several times that he really enjoyed our flight, which of course made me smile. 

Snow what?

 As we waited for my parents to arrive, I of course took the opportunity to check the weather.  I noticed in flight that things to the northwest did not appear as advertised, and some time with Foreflight confirmed this.  The overcast layer was getting lower, some visibility challenges were occuring that direction, and the snow and associated IFR conditions were expected around 3 pm.  It was going to be after 1 when they got to the airport, and a 2 pm departure was very optimistic.  No lunch for me... a granola bar would have to hold me until returning the plane to KUGN.  By the time my parents arrived, I had determined that my father and I could fly down the shoreline as planned and turn around abeam Soldier Field.  This should get us in well before the expected snow, though I was mentally prepared to fly the ILS 23 approach if things got crazy.  Of course, it was COLD complete with an Icing AIRMET so the clouds were about the last place I wanted to be.  If I had to fly an approach, visibility was going to be my problem.  

The Old Marine

Truth is, I come from a line of Marines.  My father, both my grandfathers and other family members were all Marines.  My uncle went to the Air Force, and we're still not sure how that happened.  You also have to understand that in my family the Navy is part of the Marine Corps and not the other way around.  We just have to let the Navy feel better about itself.  My father, a Vietnam vet who worked on F-4 Phantoms and talks about his "low power" license for run-ups and maintenance checks, really was not excited when I agreed to meet with the Marine recruiter before my senior year of high school.  My ASVAB scores were apparently really high, and the recruiter said that normally he has to look at the different types of jobs available in the Marines and cross out what is not available based on those scores.  But there was only one thing he had to scratch off for me... pilot.  Apparently, one must have perfect vision to fly in the Corps.  He never said so, but I don't think the Old Marine wanted me to go into the military.  He would have supported me, but he never encouraged me in this direction.  Perhaps he knows my penchant for not liking orders. 

The Old Marine had never actually flown in a small aircraft before, but some of his accommodations between the States and Vietnam make the Skyhawk seem luxurious.  

The Old Marine and the Flying Shrink prepare to depart KPWK

 

I explained the weather situation to the Old Marine, and we agreed that it was best to get on with it.  After liftoff, we headed quite directly to the shoreline.  I contacted approach control so that I was already on frequency and set up with a squawk code in case that pop-up IFR clearance was required.  The Old Marine also had questions and we talked about the sites, about flying and other matters.

As we reached Soldier Field, things to my east did not look friendly.  I turned slightly east and then warned the Old Marine that we were going to have a pretty tight turn to avoid overflying buildings and such.  Personally, 30 degrees of bank is not all that much but it seemed prudent to warn him so he didn't worry that we'd go for a swim.

Turned out that the ugly weather never materialized, and we made a nice stable straight-in for 32.  The winds had certainly picked up and were gusty but right down the runway.  As we are about 800' AGL, my father points out that he would not mind having a tree stand about where we were to aid his deer hunting efforts.  I forgot to mention that sterile cockpit thing to him, but said something after I chuckled.  Smooth touchdown and roll out along with a taxi back to Skill rounded out our flying. The Old Marine had a good time as well - a pretty big smile.  I got some grief from the fine folks as Skill for bringing back a different person than the one I left with.

The Old Marine and I were hungry, so we headed to an Irish pub for a late lunch.  Since the flying was over, the Guinness was flowing.  See how that worked? 

First IFR Cross Country: A Wealth of Experience

As you know if you've seen my postings recently, I passed my instrument check ride on July 19.  On July 22, I loaded up the family in our club's Piper Arrow for a bit of vacation in what turned out to be a daunting but gratifying experience.  Our first destination was to be in western Pennsylvania so that the Banana and the Boy could get some time with grandma and grandpa. 

Earning my Keep

As is my custom when I intend to fly, I was nearly obsessively checking the weather for days prior to our departure.  The forecasts for that day called for a nice cloud layer I could punch through as we departed KDPA, and marginal VFR due to precipitation and low ceilings through Ohio and Pennsylvania.  There was a general risk of isolated thunderstorms, but that has been true just about every day in July.  Seemed like it was a good thing I had that instrument ticket after all.  So, off to the airport we went. 

After loading up and all the careful rituals to increase the safety of the flight, we were ready to depart runway 10.  Cleared for takeoff, I started my roll with a bit of excitement as the family was going to get to see some clouds.  Then, the noise: the sound of air as if the window was open.  I knew exactly what this was, so I brought the throttle to idle and announced an aborted takeoff due to an open door.  Despite all my ritual, I forgot to secure the door.  This was not the way to engender confidence in my newly expanded piloting skills.  After securing the door properly and assuring the Banana (who was holding down the right seat) that she would not have fallen out had the door opened, we again departed runway 10. 

As we began our initial climb to 3000 and switched to departure control, we were stepped up eventually to 7000.  Climbing through the clouds resulted in the sounds of wonder and excitement from the Banana and the Boy that I had been anxiously anticipating.  "This is COOL!" said the Banana.  "Wow!" yelled the Boy.  Mrs. Dr. Flying Shrink was not too sure about all of this, and read her book until we were on top of the cloud layer as trucking along toward Peotone VOR. 

Soon, we were turned eastbound and direct to our first stop: Wood County (1G0) in Bowling Green, Ohio.  It's a nice half-way point, and my previous experience with them was excellent.  Things were getting darker with a bit more rain as we passed over Fort Wayne.  By 30 miles out I had the weather, which was reported as relatively calm winds with five miles visibility and 600 scattered/2500 overcast.  By the time I was handed off to Toledo approach, I had the RNAV 10 approach loaded into the Garmin, the plate open in Foreflight, the radios all tuned, and a full brief completed.  Flying the approach, I broke out of the overcast layer about as advertised, but there remained additional clouds with which I needed to contend.  "Keep Calm and Fly the Approach." 

You see, this was far more excitement than I really wanted for my first real IMC flight as single pilot with my family on board.  It was not dangerous, just a mite unnerving.  At 400 feet from minimums the needles were pegged, but there was a cloud in my way.  I could see the taxiway just to the right of the cloud, but I am not sure that counts as having the runway environment in site.  Fortunately, the cloud was small and by 250 feet above minimums the runway was clearly in site.  Our first leg concluded with a gentle touchdown.

"Good job, Papa" came from the back seat as Mrs. Dr. Shrink expressed her relief.  I confess that this felt pretty good.

After taking on fuel, stretching, and making sure all the bladders had been emptied successfully, we were back in 81898 and preparing to depart.  An update of the weather suggested that we would continue to have marginal VFR weather for the same reasons, and that there were some building cumulonimbus clouds out there.  As I was cleared to depart, clearance delivery told me to climb and maintain 3000 and fly heading 090.  We were soon airborne once again, and we were cleared to 7000... but never turned on course direct to Clearfield-Lawrence Township (KFIG).  I flew this for quite some time, actually.  As I looked at the radar images on the iPad courtesy of that awesome Stratus that I had purchased just a month earlier, I could see that some pretty intense storms had unleashed, and that my heading was going to steer me north of them.  I hesitated to ask questions because I thought perhaps ATC new that I'd need to deviate around this anyway, and were just being proactive. 

As we approached Cleveland, the sky was dark, visibility at 7000 was maybe five miles (but looked like grey nothing with no real horizon), and we had clouds below us that were on the border between scattered and broken.  I could see the ground or the lake quite often, but I also flew over, under and through a lot of clouds.  Just as I was about to start asking questions, the controller asks "Arrow 81898, please confirm that you are direct FIG."  I confirmed this was the plan, but that I had been instructed to fly 090 upon departure and was just preparing to ask him about when that was going to change.  "That's a great question.  I don't know why you were given that, but you are cleared direct Clearfield."  After altering course, I checked the radar picture again and saw that I would be well clear of that storm. 

All was going well, and I was handed off to Youngstown.  I had the approach plate open for Clearfield for the RNAV 12 approach since the winds were fairly calm but favoring 12.  The METAR from Foreflight suggested that ceilings were plenty high for me to circle to 30 if that made more sense, but of course I was going to burn less gas going into 12.  Then, I zoomed out to see the remainder of my flight path.  "Oh, crap."  This was not the most welcomed expression in the cockpit. 

The radar picture showed a small but quite mighty thunderstorm right over top of DuBois, which was directly in our flight path.  There was another cell to the south as well.  I had just gotten the updated picture, so I started reviewing my options.  Clarion County (KAXQ) was about 25 miles away, and would require some aggressive set up.  I wanted to see a refreshed picture before I made a final decision.  While I waited,  I got the weather, selected an approach, set up the radios, and briefed the approach.  I did not like the new picture any more than I liked the old one, and I advised Cleveland Center that I wanted to divert to Clarion due to en-route thunderstorms and that I wanted to fly the RNAV 6 approach. 

Our decent was aggressive and I was flying much faster than usual, but I had done this many times before with my instructor on board.  I instructed Ms. Dr. Flying Shrink to text my mother to let her know that we had to divert and that I would explain on the ground.  I also let her know that everything was fine except for storms.  At the intermediate approach fix, I configured the plane for a 90 knot approach speed - gear down, flaps 1, full RPM and 22 inches, lights, fuel pump.  By the final approach fix, we were ready for our smooth decent and gentle touchdown on a somewhat wet surface. 

Two hours.  We sat around and tried to entertain the kids for two hours while the storms passed and eventually dissipated.  The lone soul at the FBO was a kind man who stayed way past when he was supposed to go home so that we had a dry place to rest while the weather cleared. 

Though the rain continued, the storms were gone and we were high tailing it because another storm was 90 miles away from our route again.  The flight to KFIG from there was uneventful.  I was high on the RNAV 12 approach as it was a series of step-down fixes rather than an LPV, and I underestimated how quickly I had to descend.  No matter.  The Arrow does great with the chop and drop method, and by 1  mile final was on glide path, on airspeed, and stable - with the airport in site.  5.4 in the log book for that day, plenty of actual instrument time, and three approaches.  Not too shabby.

The Next Day

The next day, Mrs. Dr. Flying Shrink and I headed off to Princeton, New Jersey (39N) for a day of rest and alone time before going to meet friends.  The weather was Marginal VFR (like barely) at KFIG, and was better in Princeton.  After snuggling the Banana and the Boy for a few more minutes, we were off and airborne.  It was not long before we were working our way up through the clouds.  We broke out and had a nice clear ride for much of the way.  We had some clouds to fly through that turned out to be somewhat turbulent.  Just as I was entering one of them, I was given a frequency change.  That was some fun multitasking - aviate first, tune radios later.  About 10 minutes later, I was given a route change and needed to copy and program the GPS.  This time, I told the controller to standby because I was in a bumpy cloud.  Autopilot engaged, which reduced the workload a little. 

I was sent to the Solberg VOR, which completely screwed my my approach plans.  Recalling that there was a VOR-A approach from the north into 39N, I pulled it up and to my pleasure found that it originated at this VOR.  Perfect.  I tuned radios, identified the VOR, and briefed the approach so that when I was handed off to New York I would be ready.  I was flying through the clouds, so an approach was required.  I was pleased with how I flew this approach, but was easier than the day before as I broke out 1800 feet above the ground and a few miles from the field.  I did require a go around because I was too high and figured discretion was the better part of valor here. 

Queen City

After a nice day walking around the university area and staying at an Inn located in a house built in the 1760s, we were back to the airport.  A check of the weather showed forecasts that suggested a VFR flight was possible for our travel to Allentown -Queen City (KXLL).  "But I'm instrument rated and CAN file an IFR flight plan, so I will."  I complained bitterly about the route was given, and the goofy change made that my GPS programming skills did not like.  Just as I was questioning the wisdom of the IFR plan, I noticed just how low the cloud layer really was.  It turned out that I had even more cloud time and had to fly an approach into XLL was well.  The bummer about this was that the only approaches into Queen City are from the west. 

Winds were gusty and favoring 33, but there was a note that circling south of runway 7 was not authorized.  "Well, why ever not?"   As I finally broke out of the clouds, I could see why - a sizable hill with towers to the south and west of the field.  "Oh, that."  However, I leveled off at pattern altitude and flew a normal pattern entry and landing on 33.  I suppose that one could argue that this was technically circling, but I argue that ceiling and visibility were such that flying VFR and a normal pattern made complete sense but I needed to fly an approach to get down from above the overcast layer.  At 700 feet AGL, it did not make sense.  

The Long Journey Home

Sunday morning, we got up and KXLL was solid IFR.  That was not a surprise to me but I wanted to see things open up a bit before taking off.  Always study those alternative minimums.  Winds were favoring departure on 15, which was not authorized.  It would have to be runway 7, but there was a specific departure procedure about which I took notes so as to remember - there were those nasty towers out there, remember?  

I decided I wanted to climb out at best angle, which took some getting used to and monitoring.  I got a bit slow, which raised my pulse considerably.  Reduce the pitch angle, man.  It was solid IFR for quite awhile until we broke out above the overcast layer.  An approach to DuBois might not have been needed had I been able to get down to the MEA.  Flying the approach to 25, the tail was skimming the bottom of the clouds by the intermediate fix.  

We picked up the kids and had some lunch before departing to Wood County.  I figured out why it is so important to cancel your IFR flight plan.  I sat for 10 minutes with the engine running while I waited to depart because there was a flight out there that should have landed but had not cancelled.  I called for this aircraft on the CTAF, but no joy.  However, it was the United commuter that I had seen land and taxi to the terminal building.  Sigh...  

We were finally off, and things were pretty bumpy.  Things were calm at 5000 and the controller allowed us to stay there, but eventually we were moved down to 4000.  It was a trade off as the clouds were a bit turbulent and we were not going to get above them comfortably.  Things were a bit turbulent at 4000 as well. 

A visual approach into Wood County and a smooth landing.  We had to wait a bit as the fuel pumps were a happening place with some folks on the field and some transient traffic flying a Cub or Cub-a-like aircraft to Oshkosh.  They ended up departing ahead of us.  Now, that had me worried because that thing motors along at about 80 knots and I would hit 130.  Since it had no transponder, I knew that ATC was not going to see them.  I tried to raise them on the radio (they had a portable) but that did not happen.  I watched like a hawk for about 15 miles, and was then satisfied that I was now past them.  

The flight to KDPA was relatively uneventful, but I can say that I was VERY happy to touch down on 28.  It had been about 614 nautical miles and just over 7 hours flight time.  We had some nasty head winds that gave us a ground speed of about 100 knots on a TAS of 130.   My longest day and distance of flying to date.

Important lessons taken away from these flights

1.  The experience of being dumped on an approach or executing them in a rapid-fire succession is very good practice, but it is not how I found myself operating on any of these flights.  I took my time, set things up as early as possible, and briefed approaches twice as I usually had that luxury. 

2.  If something seems strange from the controller or an instruction that results in you getting back on course is not forthcoming, ask questions.

3.  It is hard to sit here after diverting and second guessing my decision, but I think that a review of my decision making is in order.  First, it was a perfectly reasonable and acceptable decision to land and sort it out on the ground, even though that meant sitting around for over two hours.  Few people have died from making the very conservative decision.  However, I wish I had discussed my situation with the controller or had a conversation with Flight Watch before diverting.  My thought process was that I had storms in my way. diversion south was out, and under no circumstances could I justify trying to thread that needle with ADS-B weather.  But I might have been able to go north, and even perhaps go far enough east to fly an approach to 30 and circle if an approach to 12 was not an option.  If it was good enough to circle going into 12, then it was probably good enough to circle from 30.  While I might have gotten confirmation that my decision was the right one, I might have had another option that I did not consider.

4.  I have this idea that I should just fly through clouds because I'm a rated and current pilot on an instrument flight plan.  While true, some clouds are fun and others... not so much.  It really is ok to request a deviation.

5.  Things just take longer than you plan them to.  

6.  I want to use the autopilot less.  I found myself using it quite a bit particularly in the clouds to add a margin of safety.  I can't say that this is bad, but I want to keep my skills sharp and sharpening.  I try to use the autopilot only when I need to reduce my workload as I prepare for an approach.   

7.  Communicating with my family is helpful.  I received feedback that I get a very intense look on my face at certain points: landing, flying an approach, or in the clouds.  It's hard for my family to know if I am just needing this much focus (yes!) or if something is wrong.  I suppose that means "managing anxiety" comes with being pilot in command. 

On a final note, with this flight I crossed over 100 hours for the year.  I was stoked about that because I already met my yearly goal, and it was only the end of July.  Good thing... December is coming.