AOPA Pilot Magazine - September 2022 - 102

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I recalled reading reports from pilots who had done
this very thing and lived to write about it.
I fervently hoped I could do the same.
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radar, and of course the Stormscope was
still locked up somewhere in Mr. Ryan's
brain and yet to be born. I'd built up my
multiengine time flying VFR, so I was
familiar with the airplane and its systems.
I remember I was happy and proud to file
IFR in the Aztec, and was soon issued a
clearance to my destination airport. With
my nosewheel on the numbers, the throttles
came up smoothly and the fat-winged
and lightly loaded Piper levitated smartly
into the summer sky.
The air was warm and smooth, and
the Aztec climbed quickly, with just the
fuel and me on board. Soon I was closing
the cowl flaps, adjusting the trim
and setting the propellers and mixtures
for cruise at 9,000 feet, just above the
scattered clouds that dotted the landscape
below. For a time we skimmed the
scattered tops, then the clouds began
to thicken and rise, and soon I was on
instruments. I asked for and received
11,000, but by the time I got there, the
clouds were there too. Well, I thought,
this is why you get an instrument rating. I
remained at 11,000 feet and soon the ride
grew choppy, and it started to rain lightly.
I was just starting to think about doing
something else but hadn't yet decided
what that might be, when the rain intensity
increased to moderate, and the clouds
grew darker inside. Washington Center
came alive with requests to divert for
weather, some by airliners, and the rain
intensity increased again to heavy. At this
point I was belatedly attempting to call
center to tell them I would like to divert
too, but didn't know in what direction,
and did they have a suggestion?
By now the frequency was filled with
moaning pilots and static, and the transmissions
that I could fit in didn't seem
to be getting through to center, since
they certainly weren't answering me.
I remember feeling at a loss for what
to do, for without clearance from center,
I felt I could not deviate from my
102
AOPA PILOT / September 2022
flight plan. Just then I flew directly into
a mature thunderstorm.
All my worries about being off my flight
plan and running into another airplane
evaporated. Suddenly I realized I was the
only idiot in this dangerous part of the sky.
The one thing I did right was keep the
wings level and let the altitude take care
of itself. I throttled back and tried to keep
the airspeed reasonable. Other than that, I
just hung on for several of the longest minutes
of my young life and tried not to panic.
I recalled reading reports from pilots who
had done this very thing and lived to write
about it. I fervently hoped I could do the
same. I also remembered a large rock by
the Tygart River just in front of my parent's
home, where as a boy I would sit and
watch the airplanes pass high overhead
and project myself into their cockpits. I
wished I were there right now, watching
this thunderstorm.
Suddenly the clouds around me brightened,
and in an instant I was back in the
clear blue summer sky and smooth air.
The contrast was startling, and I turned
to looked back at the monster that had
just spit me out. It was a brilliant, growing
cumulus, stretching to more than 20,000
feet; something that no pilot in his right
mind would ever enter, but I had. I had
come in the back door, which had looked
benign and inviting to me, and because of
my own ignorance been led down its hallways
to a chamber of horrors.
When I arrived at my destination, I
checked the Aztec for signs of damage, but
missing paint on the nose was all I could
find. I finished my business at the airport
and once again I checked the weather.
It was still calling for a chance of afternoon
thunderstorms, but now there was
a chance that they could form in lines or
clusters. My flight home was VFR, contritely
done by a much wiser and very
humble instrument pilot. Steve Weaver
is a commercial pilot with more than 13,000
hours living in Buckhannon, West Virginia.
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AOPA Pilot Magazine - September 2022

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