Leg 022

"Stormy night IFR into Barbados"

I recall the sailors warning of a red sky...

I suppose you could say that Wanda and I have been spoiled over the past month with pretty great weather.  Sure, we've seen some rain, but the visibility has always been good, the winds relatively light and the flying nearly all VFR.  Well, tonight is a different story. 

Over the past several days Wanda and I have been ferrying passengers back and forth between Canouan and St. Vincent as a way to fatten our wallet in case we run out of paying jobs along the way.  The flights have been easy - 15 minutes down, drop passengers, 15 minutes to get back, drop passengers, get paid, repeat.  We flew a total of 9 legs, earning $8,683.20 in FSEconomy net profit.  Ready to continue on the tour, I mentioned to the FBO manager my plans to next fly to Barbados.  Hearing this, he asked if I would like to depart tonight with a full load of passengers and a box that needed to get to Barbados before midnight.  (don't ask me why because I don't know). I saw the weather briefing a couple hours ago and had made the decision to fly to Barbados tomorrow due to a nasty storm front moving through the area.  Well aware of the dangers of 'get-there-itis', I also realized that a flight tonight would really test my IFR night skills, which haven't been exercised lately.  While the forecast in Barbados calls for thunder, lightning and rain, the winds are pretty calm, so why not? 

"Sure, I can fly to Barbados tonight" I said. 

Climbing steeply over terrain and twinkling lights

Tonight's plan is simple: I'll fly the runway 9 ILS Z approach to Grantley Adams International Airport in Seawell, Barbados.  If the ride is too bumpy enroute or I cannot find a path through the lightning or the clouds drop below minimums, I'll return to St. Vincent, which is forecast to remain under scattered skies. 

As a token of his appreciation, the Margaritaville Air FBO manager gives me his best price on 100LL, so I top off the tanks to 100 gallons, giving me 4.5 hours of endurance for a flight that will only require 45 minutes.  That should be a more-than-sufficient safety margin.

I greet the passengers on the ramp as dusk paints a red sky (warning).  I tell them that our flight will have two distinct periods of turbulence: the first 10 minutes after departure and the last 15 minutes before arrival.  I ask if any of them want to change their mind and wait until the morning, but nearly in unison they all say "no thanks."  I really wonder what is in Barbados tonight, but I quickly discharge this thought and turn my attention to packing the airplane.

Through the first round of turbulence and poor visibility.  That layer down there was nasty.

As expected, as soon as we are airborne, the windy gusts punch us around pretty aggressively.  The first dose of turbulence in this opening section can be blamed on the steep hillsides that surround E. T. Joshua airport.  I am careful to keep our climb pegged directly on the blue line, trading as much airspeed for altitude as possible before turning to the right toward Barbados.  We get a few moments of relief as we pass the ridges and head over the St. Vincent coastline.

Less than 5 miles later we begin our climb up into the thick overcast layer, which provides a second dose of butt-kicking turbulence until we punch through it at 6,500 feet.  Tonight we'll cruise at 7,500 feet to stay above this nasty layer, but it's never far from my mind that we have to descend back into it about 30 minutes from now.

Wanting to relax a bit while preparing for my IFR arrival, I push shuffle on my playlist and hear "Waiting on the Summer" by VHS Collection.  "How apropos I think, as my eyes glance over the cold rainy layer below us.

The storm scope bears bad news.  There are more X's there than a football playbook.

The sun finally sets as I study the arrival and airport charts for TBPB.  I ensure that my radios and GPS are set, that needles are pointing the correct direction and that seatbelts are all tightly fastened.

Less than 20 miles from my initial approach fix, the storm scope begins to show me the "x's" in a tight formation directly ahead.  The air is still smooth as we begin our descent to 3,000 feet, but I remind the passengers that it might seem hairy for a few minutes.

We enter the storm front and are treated to a 'closer-than-desired' lightning show.  Wanda is never struck by lightning, nor do we hit the turbulence I expected.  We do, however, fly through an intense section of rain that gives me that hyper-speed, Star Wars effect.  I keep my eyes focused in the cockpit, ensuring we are on vertical and lateral course, no matter what is happening around the aircraft.

Half of the flight was so peaceful but half was quite a ride.  Wanda and I are glad to parked for the night.

We ride the crazy light and water show all the way past the outer marker before we finally drop below it and Barbados is there in all her sparkling glory.  I can hear several sighs of relief from the back seat as the twinkling coastline comes in to view.  I hope whatever awaits them in Barbados was worth it.

As for me, the night IFR practice was well worth it.  I am happy with my performance, but even prouder of Wanda's as she punched through some nasty weather without missing a beat.  We make a gentle (welcomed) touchdown on runway 9 and slowly taxi over to the abandoned GA ramp.  It seems most local pilots were smart enough to wait this one out.  As I tuck Wanda in for the night, I feel absolutely drained.  Nighttime IFR flying in bad weather is challenging, but it is important to stay fresh.  I will be crossing the North Atlantic during the winter season, so it will be essential to be on top of my game in the coming months.  For the next couple of days, however, I'll relax here on one of the world's most famous beaches.