Two Kinds of Pressure

Windmills southwest of Childress, TX

There is no traffic at the small airport in the Texas Panhandle. That’s good, since there is no time to spare for flying the traffic pattern. I bank the Zenith CH601 HDS, N314LB, line up for short final, manage a rather smooth touchdown, turn off midfield for the single taxiway, shut down the engine, jump out of the plane, and, right then and there in the tall weeds, find RELIEF. 

The adult human body on average consists of 57% water. It seems that more than half of that liquid is now fertilizing the grass.

Feeling more relaxed again, it’s time to look for gas for the plane. There are some old hangars, a few rusting hulks of cars in the weeds, and a camper with a pickup truck. Not very promising. 

I knock at the door of the camper. After a while, the door cracks open. A man slips out, wearing pants and nothing else. I think, "Probably got him out of bed," and say, "Sorry to bother you." He smiles and responds, "Should be getting up anyway."

We talk about fuel. It exists, but there is no key to get the pump going. Anyway, he is not the FBO, just lives at the airport. His dog Dolly comes out of the camper, waddles into the weeds, and finds relief. I think, "I know how that dog feels."

It gradually becomes clear that there is no FBO at all. The tanks of the airport contain fuel and chemicals for an ag cat operation.

Q: How did I get into this bind? A: By insufficient planning. 

I am on a trip of mostly marginal VFR (MVFR) from Aero Country near Dallas to Albuquerque, with a refueling stop planned in Plainview in the Texas Panhandle. MVFR can either be dangerous or reasonable. Today, the weather along the route is improving, which makes MVFR okay.

When I departed Aero Country, Plainview was IFR and forecast to improve to MVFR by the planned arrival time. But 30 nm out of Plainview, clouds at 400 ft AGL appear. First a few, then scattered, and finally, 15 nm from Plainview, broken. It’s time to turn back and go for an alternate airport. 

There is plenty of fuel left, but there is not much room inside my body to store the converted breakfast fluids. A small airport is close, but it still takes a while to get there, and I arrive at the airport barely in time for relief outside the plane.

The lesson learned is: Plan alternate airports based on fuel consumption as well as liquid production. In short: Plan to keep fuel pressure up and bladder pressure down.

Taking off again, I fly a short hop to Childress north for refueling. Approaching the airport, a plane announces on the CTAF ". . . GPS approach." Since there is no wind, my query "Which runway have you selected?" is appropriate but goes unanswered.

Another smooth landing, and refueling can begin. The lady at the FBO says, "I am temporarily filling in today as FBO and have never refueled a plane." My response is, "Don’t worry, we will figure it out." After a bit of trial and error, the pump starts up and gasoline flows into the tanks. 

She apologizes, "Sorry to hold you up." I say, "There is no need to worry. Life is short as it is, so there is no need to speed it up." She smiles.

A Cirrus SR22 comes in and taxis near the pump. A couple emerges. He is the "GPS approach" pilot. We chat. The plane has everything, including deicing equipment and oxygen. They had planned to go to the Grand Canyon next, but because of the "difficult weather," his words, have decided to go directly back home to San Diego via Tucson. 

He accepts my help pushing his plane to the pump. I am tempted to give advice, such as: 

"Why don’t you forget about IFR flight at the flight levels with oxygen and instead fly 1,000 ft AGL MVFR into the improving weather. West of Santa Rosa there is already clear sky. You will see up close beautiful sandstone canyons bordering mesas with dozens of wind turbines, wide-open grassland, ranches. 

Eroded bowl south of Santa Rosa, NM

"Past Santa Rosa you should begin a climb, reaching 12,500 ft MSL as you cross the Sandia Mountains just east of Albuquerque. That altitude is recommended due to the turbulence by westerly winds across the mountain ridge. On the west side of the mountains, you can fly in smooth air close to mountains, seeing the sloping forests and cliffs in great detail.

Sandia Mountains, looking south

Sandia Mountains, looking north

"If winds from the west are not strong, instead of flying over the Albuquerque Class C space you could dive unter its outer ring, and proceed just west of the mountain from south to north.

Under Albuquerque Class C outer ring, looking north

"This would require precision flying, made easy by GPS navigation.

Sandia Mountain, viewed from Rio Rancho, NM, under Albuquerque Class C outer ring

"You could land at Albuquerque’s Double Eagle Airport, stay overnight in the city, and dine in beautiful Old Town. Next morning, you could get up early to depart at 7 am and commence a stunning 1,000 ft AGL west-bound flight in smooth air along Interstate 40, passing over the Painted Desert and other sand stone formations, a meteor crater, mesas, forests, trains snaking around hills. Shortly before Flagstaff, you would turn northwest to reach the Grand Canyon before noon."

Having learned that advice should be given only when asked for, I don’t say anything. On the other hand, I heed that advice myself. It is a beautiful four hour trip to Albuquerque. 

But then I do not proceed further west. Instead I spend a few days with my daughter Ingrid in Albuquerque, then fly south along the Rio Grande to visit friends Philip and Lynn in Mimbres. We hike up Purgatory Chasm, a famous slot canyon in that stark and beautiful part of New Mexico. The return flight to Aero Country via Pecos takes a total of six hours, which once more proves that the sarcastic saying "With time to spare, go by air" is wrong more often than not.