Now, there is no way that the Caravan — or anything short of the space shuttle — is going to outclimb the Sierras, so I was off to a holding fix, climbing, climbing, climbing to 16,000 feet, and then pointing the nose west. Once level at 16,000, I thought to myself, “Single pilot, single engine, unpressurized and on O2, over the Sierras at night in a snowstorm … doesn’t get much better than this. ” Then I noticed my ground speed was all of 95 knots. Normal for the Caravan is around 165 knots. Dang, in my hurry to get on my way, I did not check the winds aloft. Now I’m thinking about fuel because we carry much more than what’s legally required. Doing some quick math and checking the charts I soon saw that, even at 95 knots, I should be over the highest terrain shortly and able to start milking my way down to the lower minimum en route altitudes. If the wind let up just a bit, I’d make it to Lancaster just fine.