So this afternoon was perfect VFR, after the storms of yesterday.
Realizing that we wouldn't be able to fly for at least another week, due to
upcoming holiday commitments, it was obvious what needed to be done:
Fly -- right now!

Problem: Two inches of snow had fallen yesterday, on top of heavy rain, and
the then plummeted to 12 above zero. This combination invariably resulted
in a pounded-down layer of hard snow over glare ice -- the perfect scenario
for a "no-brakes" runway condition...

Oh well. I originally trained in Wisconsin, in winter, and learned early-on
how to deal with snow and icy runways. We've flown in the upper MidWest for
ten years, and have simply learned to adapt. With my son home sick in bed
(Flu? Half his school is out with it!) we loaded up my daughter and headed
to the frigid hangar...

Sure enough, the hangar door was frozen to the ground. A firm yank on the
chain broke it free, but the door was heavy with the frozen concoction that
had blown against it, and then frozen solid. Between the weight and the
cold, it was at least twice as heavy to lift as on a hot summer's day!

Then came the fun of pre-flighting in wind chills of -10 degrees. While my
daughter played in the snow (how come they never seem to feel the cold?) I
naturally opted for an "in-hangar" pre-flight -- but it was still damned
cold. Finally, we had to face the fun of pulling Atlas out of his hangar,
onto the packed down ice and snow. This required both of us, since as one
would lose traction, the other could keep pulling...

With our dual cylinder and sump heaters, the engine was as warm as on any
August afternoon, and started on the first blade. We inside were not so
pampered, and shivered in the cold while we tried to minimize our
exhalations, lest they freeze on the windows. Taxiing required more RPMs
than normal, just to roll us across the crusty white stuff...

Arriving at the end of the taxiway, we were greeted by a fellow pilot
working the pattern. The sky was a brilliant azure blue and hot pink, with
the sun already setting on this mid-December day. Sunset is at 4:30 at this
time of year, and the winds were dying down accordingly. Everything
sparkled intensely in the blindingly white, new snow...

Waiting for his arrival in the pattern, I determined that we had plenty of
time for a normal run-up and departure. With my 10-year old daughter as
co-pilot, I asked her to hold the yoke while I ran up to 2000 RPM. We
immediately started sliding, so I knew that the NOTAM for this runway would
read "Braking action: Nil". Exercising the prop, I was amazed at how stiff
the linkage was, but all checks were "in the green", so we rolled out onto
runway 30 for departure.

Turning was "interesting", requiring differential braking to get aligned
with the runway. But then, with a last glance at the sky and the gauges,
it was time to go!

Throttle response was smooth and throaty, as all six cylinders heaved into
action as one. The runway crunched beneath us as the takeoff roll swiftly
accelerated, but directional control was accomplished as much with rudder as
by steering. This was one slick runway!

Atlas fairly leapt off the ground, despite carrying 84 gallons of gas, and
dragging through all that crunchy snow. It felt like we had an extra 100
horsepower, as we climbed out at an impossibly steep deck angle, up and into
the pattern. As I turned crosswind, then downwind, calling out my position
to my fellow pilots, I was astounded to note that I was climbing like a
rocket through 2300 feet -- 1600 feet, AGL -- before hitting downwind!

Needless to say, I pulled the throttle back, trying to minimize shock
cooling as much as possible, and started drifting back down to pattern
altitude! Still, starting that high, it was impossible to lose that much
altitude in a normal pattern, so I extended downwind while scrubbing away as
much excess altitude as possible.

The air was thick and deliciously full of lift -- I just could NOT get Atlas
to come down! Amazingly, the winds aloft were zipping us along at 125
knots, with the throttle at idle, but it was absolutely still air. Banking
smoothly onto base leg, we settled into a stabilized approach that couldn't
have been more solid had we been mounted on rails...

This first one would be a touch and go, and I opted for two notches of
flaps. Knowing that the surface was irregular but mostly cleared of snow, I
concentrated on minimizing any side stresses, aiming deliberately and
carefully down the imaginary center-line, completely obscured as it was...

....ever so gently, the wheels kissed the snow. I immediately applied full
power, and Atlas literally howled at the moon, and all I could see was sky.
Mary, in the back seat, exclaimed that I had cheated, and never touched the
runway -- but Atlas and I knew better...

Up and around again, this time more aware of our increased performance, I
opted to depart the pattern for a brief flight over to my daughter's school,
and our home. Circling slowly in the angled sunlight, we took some great
pictures of her favorite playground....

Then it was back to the pattern, but this time I would do a low approach
down Runway 25. This would give Mary the optimal angle to take pictures of
the Inn with the setting sunlight highlighting the new snow. Down final we
glided, while I applied the proper cross-wind correction to keep us aligned
with the extended centerline, Mary snapping away... Then it was full power,
and off we climbed once again.

Finally, it was time for our fun to end. The cabin was now toasty warm, and
the sun was setting on the horizon like a giant ball of fire. Atlas was
performing flawlessly, the wind was right down the runway at 4 knots, and
all was right with the world. The lights of the city were winking on, and I
clicked the PTT repeatedly in order to fire up the suddenly needed runway
lights.

This one would be full stop, without brakes. Luckily, runway 30 is over
4500 feet long, and the snow would provide a fair amount of directional
control. Down we slid on final, just a smidge slower than normal, utilizing
all three notches of flaps, and touched down ever-so-lightly on the
snow-covered runway. Holding the nosewheel off as long as possible,
maintaining directional control with rudder once again, I was rewarded with
one of those rare, perfect landings. They don't come very often, but this
was one of those landings where you know that there is absolutely no way to
improve upon any single aspect of it -- we had achieved the nirvana of
landings. Even Mary "oooohed" as we smoothly rolled out, easily stopping
before the first intersection -- without brakes.

Some days are better than others. This one made me glad that we don't lock
the hangar door after Halloween, like so many of our hangar neighbors...
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"