One of my short local flights last week reminded me that the time of year has a lot to do with what I can expect from wind conditions. It’s winter in the Northeast, and the season brings some pretty reliable presumptions. It’ll be colder, and the days are shorter. In clouds, icing assumes center stage on the risk list, taking over for thunderstorms during the warmer months. But some of the little things also come into play — like wind.
I planned one of my simple ‘get up and into the sky’ flights on a day forecast to be a little less bone chilling. It was sunny and calm that morning, and I was looking forward to a pleasant flight. Even when no trips are scheduled, I like to fly at least once a week, just to keep procedures fresh in my brain, and to remind the muscles in my head, hands and feet where everything is in the cockpit. Flying once a week can be a challenge in winter. In planning this day, I allowed the flight to slip to early afternoon, partly because it would be that much warmer.
After engine start, I tuned the ASOS and found that winds were now at 11 gusting to 22 — but right down the runway, so they posed no serious safety issue. I took off and climbed to about 2,500 feet to remain well below the jet traffic buzzing into and out of several local airports. It was bumpy. Not bone jarring, but not smooth either.
At 3,000, it was a little better, but not much. After some airwork, I resigned myself to the fact that this would not be the relaxing interlude I’d hoped for, but rather a bit of a wrestling match with Mother Nature. As I turned back east to return to the airport, the groundspeed showed a tailwind of about 30 knots. Even on short final, the differential between airspeed and groundspeed was about 25 knots. Under the circumstances, I had broken my rule of always being able to land on the runway without power from anywhere in the pattern. I should have known. Just because the temperature was in the mid-40s didn’t change the prevailing wind speed and direction.
In chatting with a few other pilots that day, we agreed the wind was strong, even for the season. And though 30 or 40 knots at cruising altitudes might seem like a summer breeze to pilots who operate in the Great Plains, we on the East Coast must account for the Appalachians just to the west. They churn up the wind to generate turbulence, and the stronger the winds, the higher you have to fly to hurdle the bumps. As the sun warmed the earth later in the day, rising thermal columns stirred up the lower altitudes even more. One pilot on an IFR flight plan home from the west said he had a smooth ride at 4,000 feet, and a strong tailwind, then hit the bumps on descent to 3,500.
Even if you don’t live in the Northeast, there are regional variations in wind that are affected by seasonal conditions. For example, Wednesday’s map shows a deep low pressure system off the northern California coast drawing strong winds up from the south (see illustration). I’d bet that’s not a condition you’d normally find during the summer.
Summary: For the pleasant ride I was expecting that day, I should have gone out earlier.
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