The simple logbook entry read “installed rectifier in alternator test circuit, flight tested OK.” We’d had a problem with our alternator-out light that was corrected on a Monday prior to a flight planned for Saturday. The briefer was right; we arrived at our hangar at Lee Gilmer Memorial (GVL) in Gainesville, Georgia, with less than a quarter-mile visibility and vertical visibility of 100 feet. We listened to the ASOS [Automated Surface Observation System] on our portable navcom, the CD player in the truck, and replaced out-of-date charts lapsed since we last visited Hangar DD13. After a while, the ASOS reported 1¾ miles and vertical visibility of 300 feet. OK for an instrument departure but not for the 400-feet-agl requirement for the LOC 05. We were hoping to make my stepson’s sixth-grade football game in Memphis, Tennessee. We were patient; we had plenty of time. Because conditions were now improving, we preflighted SkyFlys, our F33A Bonanza, and taxied to Runway 05 for a run-up and departure clearance. The “we” I refer to are my wife and I. She’s a commercial, multiengine, instrument-rated pilot; I’m a private multiengine pilot, instrument-rated with a lot of Baron hours. It was my turn for the left seat; she had the radios. The checklist run-up was perfect, and we briefed the instrument departure, got our clearance and release, and launched.
Departing into conditions like these is what instrument pilots train for. Executing them, breaking out on top of a thin layer at 3,000 feet into the CAVU above with the billowy blanket below is to die for — literally, maybe. We’re sharing this experience because we did everything right and were ready for emergencies, or so we thought, before launching. Every item on the checklist checked. All the gauges read as they should, no rush, lots of time, a gorgeous view on top. Ever been there?
