Jay Honeck
December 6th 07, 03:21 PM
That was the NOTAM for all of our local airports yesterday. With the
winds gusting to 20 knots, at a 60 degree crosswind, the thought of
landing on ice-covered runways sounded like...fun!
But then, we live in the Upper Midwest, so we're a bit odd that way...
;-)
Off to the airport we went -- only to find that our recent ice storm
(and subsequent snow plowing) had created an ice dam 6" thick by four
feet wide, the full length of our hangar door. There was NO movement
at all, and my snow shovel just caromed off when I hit the ice -- the
door might as well have been welded shut.
Defeated, we ended up doing other, more expensive things (like Xmas
shopping, for one) throughout the day, but returned to the airport to
try to download my engine data into my new laptop. (Alas, Vista
doesn't get along with my old serial-to-USB adaptor, so no joy getting
the JPI to talk to my PCs.) As usual, we stopped by our A&Ps hangar
to shoot the breeze, and I mentioned the problem with our hangar door.
Our A&P is a man of many decades experience, and a master
homebuilder. I wasn't surprised when he produced his own specially-
made "ice chopper" -- a 5' tall, 3" thick iron bar sharpened to a
point. He showed me the proper angle of attack to use, and told me to
return it when I could.
Back at our hangar, I went at it. The bar weighs over 20 pounds, so
it comes down with enough force to make you worry about the underlying
pavement. Within a few seconds I was breaking out huge pieces of 6"
thick ice, being extremely careful not to spear a toe with an errant
blow.
20 pounds doesn't sound like much, but lift it and drop it a few
hundred times, and you won't need to hit the gym. Once busted out,
the ice bergs then had to be shoveled to either side -- so the whole
process took close to an hour. Meanwhile, Mary wisely left to pick up
our daughter from school.
When Mary returned, she found an open hangar door and one exhausted
husband. However, it was pushing sunset, and the winds had died down
considerably -- so we leapt at the chance for some "fun on the ice"
before it got dark.
Taxiing on ice is always interesting. A tricycle is unstable to begin
with, but even more so on ice -- so nothing is done without advance
planning. We trundled out to Rwy 30, squinting into the sun that was
reflecting off Iowa City's brand, new ramp -- which now looked for all
the world like an Olympic-class skating rink.
We found a dry spot to do our run-up, and then trundled onto the
runway for departure. The left side of the runway had been plowed
before everything froze up, so we restricted our takeoff roll to that
side, and had no difficulties.
Climbing out in the cold air, lightly loaded, is always a joy. We
took off behind a C-150 with two on board and, despite giving him a 45
second head-start, we quickly overtook them in the climb. Compared
to summer, December flying is like riding a rocket ship!
Working to keep my turns crisp and 90 degrees, I rolled out on final
approach, careful to assess the crosswind. The only real danger of
landing on ice is that recovery from any side stress is doubtful, so
proper crosswind technique is a must. Both Mary and I have botched
this in the past, and were most grateful for the VERY wide runways in
Iowa City...
On short final I noticed an interesting phenomenon: All the painted
parts of the runway were solidly iced-over, while the unpainted parts
were mostly dry. Considering that Iowa City's runways are concrete,
not asphalt, I found this surprising -- you wouldn't think the slight
difference in color between the two would matter so much -- but I was
happy that the bright sun had sublimated some of the ice.
Giving up on my color analysis in the flare, I gratefully settled onto
a mostly-dry piece of pavement, with no side stress and a satisfying
ooze of the oleo gear. Nothing like a greaser to make a day
complete!
Smoothly applying power, careful to counter the torque and P factor
whilst still in contact with the ice, we smoothly arced back into the
sky. Is there any greater feeling than when the wheels break contact,
and you are suddenly released from all those earthbound limitations?
One more landing and then I pulled onto the ramp to trade places. One
advantage of having a small wife, is that we have learned how to
switch pilots without opening the door -- very handy when it's cold
out! Just lock the hand brake, slide the seats all the way back, I
slide under while she slides over. The headphones can be a mess (and
don't forget to put the Johnson bar flap handle down, or you're in for
a surprise!), but it sure saves time.
Two more circuits of the field, and we were carefully taxiing back to
our hangar. Pushing Atlas in over the remnants of our ice dam was a
real chore -- but is there any better way to view a winter sunset?
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"
winds gusting to 20 knots, at a 60 degree crosswind, the thought of
landing on ice-covered runways sounded like...fun!
But then, we live in the Upper Midwest, so we're a bit odd that way...
;-)
Off to the airport we went -- only to find that our recent ice storm
(and subsequent snow plowing) had created an ice dam 6" thick by four
feet wide, the full length of our hangar door. There was NO movement
at all, and my snow shovel just caromed off when I hit the ice -- the
door might as well have been welded shut.
Defeated, we ended up doing other, more expensive things (like Xmas
shopping, for one) throughout the day, but returned to the airport to
try to download my engine data into my new laptop. (Alas, Vista
doesn't get along with my old serial-to-USB adaptor, so no joy getting
the JPI to talk to my PCs.) As usual, we stopped by our A&Ps hangar
to shoot the breeze, and I mentioned the problem with our hangar door.
Our A&P is a man of many decades experience, and a master
homebuilder. I wasn't surprised when he produced his own specially-
made "ice chopper" -- a 5' tall, 3" thick iron bar sharpened to a
point. He showed me the proper angle of attack to use, and told me to
return it when I could.
Back at our hangar, I went at it. The bar weighs over 20 pounds, so
it comes down with enough force to make you worry about the underlying
pavement. Within a few seconds I was breaking out huge pieces of 6"
thick ice, being extremely careful not to spear a toe with an errant
blow.
20 pounds doesn't sound like much, but lift it and drop it a few
hundred times, and you won't need to hit the gym. Once busted out,
the ice bergs then had to be shoveled to either side -- so the whole
process took close to an hour. Meanwhile, Mary wisely left to pick up
our daughter from school.
When Mary returned, she found an open hangar door and one exhausted
husband. However, it was pushing sunset, and the winds had died down
considerably -- so we leapt at the chance for some "fun on the ice"
before it got dark.
Taxiing on ice is always interesting. A tricycle is unstable to begin
with, but even more so on ice -- so nothing is done without advance
planning. We trundled out to Rwy 30, squinting into the sun that was
reflecting off Iowa City's brand, new ramp -- which now looked for all
the world like an Olympic-class skating rink.
We found a dry spot to do our run-up, and then trundled onto the
runway for departure. The left side of the runway had been plowed
before everything froze up, so we restricted our takeoff roll to that
side, and had no difficulties.
Climbing out in the cold air, lightly loaded, is always a joy. We
took off behind a C-150 with two on board and, despite giving him a 45
second head-start, we quickly overtook them in the climb. Compared
to summer, December flying is like riding a rocket ship!
Working to keep my turns crisp and 90 degrees, I rolled out on final
approach, careful to assess the crosswind. The only real danger of
landing on ice is that recovery from any side stress is doubtful, so
proper crosswind technique is a must. Both Mary and I have botched
this in the past, and were most grateful for the VERY wide runways in
Iowa City...
On short final I noticed an interesting phenomenon: All the painted
parts of the runway were solidly iced-over, while the unpainted parts
were mostly dry. Considering that Iowa City's runways are concrete,
not asphalt, I found this surprising -- you wouldn't think the slight
difference in color between the two would matter so much -- but I was
happy that the bright sun had sublimated some of the ice.
Giving up on my color analysis in the flare, I gratefully settled onto
a mostly-dry piece of pavement, with no side stress and a satisfying
ooze of the oleo gear. Nothing like a greaser to make a day
complete!
Smoothly applying power, careful to counter the torque and P factor
whilst still in contact with the ice, we smoothly arced back into the
sky. Is there any greater feeling than when the wheels break contact,
and you are suddenly released from all those earthbound limitations?
One more landing and then I pulled onto the ramp to trade places. One
advantage of having a small wife, is that we have learned how to
switch pilots without opening the door -- very handy when it's cold
out! Just lock the hand brake, slide the seats all the way back, I
slide under while she slides over. The headphones can be a mess (and
don't forget to put the Johnson bar flap handle down, or you're in for
a surprise!), but it sure saves time.
Two more circuits of the field, and we were carefully taxiing back to
our hangar. Pushing Atlas in over the remnants of our ice dam was a
real chore -- but is there any better way to view a winter sunset?
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"