How do you know if someone is a pilot?

They will tell you.

As aviators we like to let everyone know, not only our own ability but that of our airplanes. We are proud of our dispatch reliability rate, the utility they afford, the ease of travel, and the time saved not standing in a TSA line. And we would love to tell you all about it in great detail.

And yet, for all that talk, we don’t always communicate very well with our passengers when describing risk. We don’t want to scare the deer. Or show our airplane’s shortcomings. Or our own.

But, yes, our little airplanes really do offer up all that utility. Add a Garmin suite of avionics to the already reliable powerplant/airframe in my highly updated Bonanza, and I can get in and out of places that no commercial airliner could ever attempt.

Part 91 takes away whatever remaining restrictions the majors have in getting off the ground. Technically, we GA pilots can take off in any conditions we like. Sure, we don’t necessarily do it, but we all know that we could if we wanted to badly enough. And that’s simply not a helpful framework for our self-deluding primate brains.

• READ MORE: Misses, Near and Far…

I remember once getting a call some years ago on a Saturday morning from my buddy, Dave. He and a friend had to make a wedding in California’s Bay Area that night. Their commercial flight into KSFO was canceled because of fog. He asked me if I could get them to a nearby airport in the next few hours. A part of my brain lit up at the thought of saving the day. It’s fun being the hero. I tried to remain calm and even had the wherewithal to tell him I had to check the weather first. But my mind was already 87 percent made up. I was getting them to that wedding.

Turns out it wasn’t just fog. There was a well-developed low making a ton of rain along with 70 knot winds at 10,000 feet. We flew right through that storm. While there was no convection, and I wasn’t exactly in over my head, it was not a flight that needed to happen. I had just received my instrument rating a few months earlier and was determined to leverage it to its full potential.

I remember this one moment up at altitude when I realized the weather at our destination was not going to lift above minimums. I told the guys we would not make San Jose and would have to land at Monterey. They were concerned with rental cars and ground transportation, blissfully unaware I had not studied our alternate’s instrument approaches—there are six of them at KMRY. Runway 28 was active, and it required a descent toward mountainous terrain and an approach that takes you right past peaks higher than the aircraft’s path. The surrounding terrain there is the real deal, having taken the life of a well-known CFI who had a CFIT accident in 2021 while departing into IMC.

Our flight ended with a successful landing, but I will always remember walking away from the airplane toward the FBO when Dave asked me if I always sweated this much when flying. “Yes,” I replied. “I’m a ‘schvitzer.’” Better that than explain to him that I exposed them both to a much higher risk without ever giving them the option to make a choice for themselves. Had I called Dave back earlier that morning and explained that our desired destination was at minimums and our alternate had mountainous terrain surrounding it on three sides, he might very well have decided making the wedding wasn’t that important after all. More than 50 percent of marriages end in divorce, anyway. But I never gave him that option. I wanted to make it work—for me, as much as for him. And that’s a problem.

In the end, I didn’t even achieve the hero status that was fueling my decision-making process. The guys were scrambling to find a rental car as they tossed a thank-you over their shoulders as they walked to the FBO. I slowly made my way back to the airplane and just sat there in the left seat for a bit and breathed before filing and heading back to LA.

The best example of this noncommunication was also the worst day of my life: that fateful morning in Telluride, Colorado, where I encountered wind shear on takeoff and almost entered a stall/spin, ending with a gear-up landing. My passenger and I could have left later that day or the next morning. That’s when all the “reasons” start flooding in:

• The hotel room in Santa Fe, New Mexico, is booked.
• The restaurant reservation is made.
• The girl is new to me, and I want to impress her.
• My airplane is perfectly suited to the mission.
• I am a pilot of exceptional, bordering superhuman ability.

In hindsight, those seem patently absurd (the last, also being patently false) with the reality I was then served: a totaled airplane, a scarred pilot and his dog, and a woman who ended up being subjected to a terrifying, near-death experience.

Had I just asked her if she was willing to risk the flight at one of the most notoriously dangerous airports in North America because of mountain wind shear and a climbing density altitude, I can almost guarantee she would have declined. But that dialogue never occurred, because I never opened it.

There are times where we really don’t see the danger coming and, as such, a conversation cannot be had. For that, there is no remedy. But I find the vast majority of the time there is that tingling feeling that originates in your brain then migrates south to the back of your neck, where it surfaces, becoming almost topical—like an itch.

We almost always know. We just don’t always listen, and we often don’t speak.

This column first appeared in the September 2023/Issue 941 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post Pilots Don’t Always Communicate Well When Describing Risk appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Answer: As we start to move into the cold season over the next couple of months, you may begin to see freezing fog (FZFG) appear in a surface observation (METAR) or  terminal aerodrome forecast (TAF). So, let’s get ahead of the game and discuss some high-level details of what freezing fog is all about and whether or not it constitutes known icing conditions. 

In simple terms, freezing fog is nothing more than an obstruction to ground visibility.  When surface observing equipment such an ASOS measures the visibility to be less than 7 sm, a reason for what’s causing the decrease in surface visibility must also be included. Besides freezing fog, other common obstructions to visibility include HZ for haze, BR for mist and FG for fog. 

Haze or mist are the most common obstructions to visibility. They are added to the report when the surface visibility is less than 7 sm but greater than one-half of a statute mile. Once the visibility drops to one-half of a statute mile or less, fog becomes the dominant obstruction to visibility and FG is added to the report. In this case, when the temperature is also at or below 0 degrees Celsius, then freezing fog becomes an obstruction to visibility and FZFG is added to the report. 

The important thing to understand is that the software employed by the ASOS makes this determination solely by using the reported surface visibility and temperature independent of any ice accretion or if clouds are actually touching the surface. At times, airports with a trained human observer can override this as was done in this surface observation for Spokane, Washington (KGEG).  

KGEG 271353Z 19008KT 1/4SM -SN BR FEW001 OVC003 M03/M04 A2993   

    RMK AO2 SLP157 SFC VIS 2 VIS NW-N 1 P0000 T10331039

In this case, the reported visibility is one-quarter of statute mile and the temperature is minus-3 degrees Celsius. Both of these conditions meet the criteria for freezing fog. Therefore, if this were an automated report, the obstruction to visibility would have included freezing fog, or FZFG. However, notice in the remarks section, the observer notes that the surface visibility is 2 sm, and visibility to the northwest and north is 1 sm. Effectively the trained observer felt the obstruction was more representative of mist (BR) and not freezing fog.  

Is freezing fog considered known icing conditions? The short answer is no. According to the National Weather Service (NWS) directives, freezing fog is “consisting predominantly of water droplets at temperatures less than or equal to 0 degrees Celsius whether or not the fog is expected to deposit rime ice.” Once again, fog or freezing fog is an obstruction to visibility simply based on the measured surface visibility and temperature. Nevertheless, in a dense radiation fog event, ice may indeed accrete on the airframe while taxiing to depart.    

Similar to surface observations, freezing fog can also appear in a TAF. The same general rules apply. When a forecaster expects the visibility will be at or below one-half of a statute mile and the temperature will be at or below 0 degrees Celsius, they will ordinarily forecast FZFG. Based on the same NWS directives, freezing fog in a terminal forecast by itself is not a forecast for known icing conditions.

It is true that fog consists predominantly of water droplets when the temperature is warmer than 0 degrees Celsius. But to know if freezing fog is an icing hazard is a bit more complex and depends on many factors—not all of them are specifically discussed here. 

Freezing fog is primarily a ground icing issue, not an in-flight icing concern. The two environments have a great deal of differences and may depend where you are departing. For example, if you are flying out of Grand Forks, North Dakota (KGFK), which is landlocked, your chances of getting any significant liquid water content is pretty small, especially for radiation-type fog events that occur at warmer, subfreezing temperatures. In fact, the forecasters at the Grand Forks weather office don’t issue many TAFs with FZFG for that reason. The meteorologist in charge at the NWS Forecast Office in Grand Forks has mentioned to me,“…In our temperature regimes and winter air mass scenarios, we typically don’t have that high of true liquid water droplet concentrations but probably more suspended ice crystals…so we may get a bit of glaze but not a true rime-icing scenario.” 

• READ MORE: Fog: the Malignant Weather Ninja

Many years ago, I asked Dr. Marcia Politovich, an aviation icing expert and a deputy director at the University Corporation for Atmospheric Research in Colorado, weighed in on the topic. 

“It’s not likely that a surface temperature of minus-3 degrees Celsius or above could support mostly or only ice crystals, but history matters,” Politovich said. “Where the crystals came from is important [maybe they formed aloft in very cold air and are falling slowly through a warmer layer near the ground]. The local ice nucleus source might not be as important as what would be in the air, carried from some other location. Also cloud nuclei [for water drops] would also be sourced locally, so if the air is very clean, it’d be hard to produce anything very near the surface.”

Therefore, in a much colder temperature regime, it’s unlikely you’ll experience much in the way of rime since the fog will consist predominantly of ice crystals. If you are departing out of an airport near a large body of water or when the soil has been moistened after a precipitation event (other than snow), it is quite common to have some ice deposit onto the prop and other surfaces of the aircraft when the static air temperature is between 0 degrees and minus-10 degrees Celsius.  

However, if there’s no ice accreted after you finish your preflight and/or if the static air temperature is below minus-10 degrees Celsius, then the likelihood of ice rime on the airframe is minimal while the aircraft is waiting on the ramp or taxiing. Lastly, the most important rule is to never take off if the surfaces of your aircraft are contaminated with ice.

The post Is Freezing Fog Considered ‘Known Icing Conditions’? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

I live in the Pacific Northwest, where fog—the lowest of the low clouds—is a nearly daily occurrence, especially in the fall and winter. I live close to the water, and on some days it never lifts. Other days, we get a few hours of flyable sunshine and visibility, and we watch the temperature and dewpoint spread very carefully because fog can sneak up on you ninja-like. And if you are not instrument rated and in an instrument-capable aircraft, instrument current, instrument proficient, and prepared to “go on the gauges,” you may have a really bad day. Know your enemy, as my father used to say.

• READ MORE: When Smoke Gets In Your Skies

What Is Fog?

Per the FAA’s Instrument Flying Handbook, fog is defined as a low cloud, which has its base within 50 feet of the ground, reducing visibility to less than five-eights sm. In order for fog to form, three basic conditions must be met:

• There needs to be condensation nuclei, such as smoke particles, salt, dust, pollen, etc., for the moisture to condense upon. In the Pacific Northwest, we have this in the form of salt from the ocean and smoke from all the wood stoves.

• There must be high water content and a low temperature/dew point spread. Dew point is the temperature the air must be cooled to in order to become saturated. When the air is cooled or moisture is added to it and the temperature and dew point are within 4 degrees Fahrenheit/2 degrees Celsius of each other, fog is likely, as it forms when the temperature and the dew point converge. As the day heats up, the temperature dew point diverges, and the fog ‘burns off.’ In the evening, the process reverses. In  the afternoon, especially in winter, the process reverses usually around 3 p.m. Keep this in mind when you head out on late afternoon flights.

• Fog forms when light surface winds are present as they cause surface friction to create an eddy, causing more air to contact the ground

Fog is basically a cloud at the surface, but like other clouds, there are varieties, and each has certain characteristics. For example, some need wind to form.

To recall the types of fog, use the acronym SURAPIF (Steam, Upslope, Radiation, Advection, Precipitation, Ice, Freezing).

Steam Fog

Steam fog, sometimes known as “sea smoke,” forms when cooler air moves over slightly warmer water. Steam fog is usually not very thick and needs wind to form. It is associated with a shallow layer of unstable air, so you can expect convective turbulence flying through it.

Upslope Fog

Upslope fog forms as moist, stable air is pushed up a hill or other sloping land mass. As the air moves up, it cools, and when the temperature and dew point converge, there is fog. Mountain fog is sometimes mistaken for smoke, which is how the Great Smoky Mountains in North Carolina and Tennessee get their name. Per the Aviation Weather Handbook, this type of fog is most commonly observed in the autumn and spring months and is the densest around sunrise when surface temperatures are often at their lowest.

Radiation Fog

Radiation fog, also known as “ground fog,” forms over low-lying, flat surfaces on clear, calm, humid nights, especially over a wet surface like ground after rain. As the surface cools, the adjacent air also cools to its dew point and fog forms. Radiation fog can vary in depth from a few feet to about 1,000 feet and usually remains in place.

A subset of radiation fog is valley fog, which, as the name suggests, forms in lower-lying areas. It is very thick and is sometimes referred to as “tule fog.” It can form when the air along ridgetops cools after sunset. As the air becomes more dense and heavy, it flows down the slope to the valley floor, where it continues to cool and becomes saturated to form fog.

Radiation and valley fog can drop visibility to near zero and make any kind of transportation hazardous because you can’t see in front of you and lack any depth perception. You may not even want to taxi in that kind of fog. Radiation fog is often a factor in chain-reaction accidents on highways in the winter months.

Advection Fog

Advection fog occurs when a low layer of warm, moist air moves over a cooler surface. This is very common along the West Coast in winter. Advection fog requires wind to form, and an increase in wind speed can make it thicken. It is also tenacious, moving over water and then inland, then back over water for days or even weeks at a time. The horizontal movement of advection fog helps distinguish it from radiation fog.

Precipitation Fog

Precipitation fog forms when rain evaporates as it falls through cold air. When the precipitation stops, the fog disappears. You can notice this when the objects at the end of the runway disappear under fog as it rains then reappear when the rain ends.

Ice Fog

Ice fog forms in polar and arctic regions—and other cold weather locations—when the temperature is minus-10 degrees or below, and the air is too cold for the air to contain supercooled water droplets, so it forms tiny ice crystals.

Freezing Fog

Freezing fog occurs when water droplets freeze on contact to a surface that is below 32 degrees. This means anything the freezing fog touches will become coated with ice—including all aircraft. Sometimes you can watch it form on cold mornings. As the fog rolls in, the aircraft on the ramp will slowly see their windows turn opaque, and their surfaces will appear to sparkle. This process is different from frost forming, which usually involves sublimation.

Respect the Fog

Even with an instrument certificate and an airplane loaded with the latest in technology, fog can quickly become too thick to operate in and destroy visibility. This is why instrument approaches have weather minimums in the form of ceiling and visibility printed on them. Respect the metrics, as sadly every year there are pilots who attempt to land in weather below the minimums and don’t live to tell the story because they misjudged their altitude or distance from terrain because of fog.

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