scout88305
SPONSOR
Northern Minnesota
Several years ago I was learning to fly. Winter quickly approached right on the heels of my first solo and the Champ I was using all of a sudden sprouted skis. My first year of flight consisted of more ski hours than wheel time. I got comfortable with the lakes and judging safe areas to land. Away from the rock hard drifts and debris left by fishermen. I also landed on rivers and fields and grass runways that had no maintenance. I was finding deeper snow all the time and this challenged me to some degree. I got stuck several times and learned to carry an aluminum grain scoop for shoveling and of course snowshoes. I was learning and having a ball. One day with a good 50 hours ski experience under my belt I dropped in over one of the many frozen rice patties in this area. It was a flat light overcast day. Coyotes, fox and other critters frequent this kind of terraign and there is always something happening. This day was to be no different.
I looked things over real well making two passes at different directions. Finally satisfied, I reduced power and glided over a ditch and what appeared to be a pumping station. This was in March after some warm weather. The lakes were thick with ice and the snow was heavy and in the melt stage. After a textbook landing I shut down out in the middle, got out and took a leak. I walked around a little and studied the animal tracks in the snow. I love tracks and the story they tell. Soon my tracks would tell their own story. "What a beautiful day" I thought aloud. Sipping on a cold Dr. Pepper and nibbling on some venision I glanced out across the far tree-line. I remember listening to the tick tick tick of a cooling Continental engine and the croaking call of a hoarse sounding Raven telling me to "beware". I started to reflect on the many freedoms we have like flying small planes to wild places. I was preparing to take a photo but something was terribly wrong causing me to choke on my summer sausage. It seemed to all happen at once. I heard and felt the ice shift causing my eyes to grow big as saucers. I also observed a considerable sagging on the rice patty near the plane. Right then and there I ran in 10 foot strides to the Champ and did one of them Indiana Jones light the fire I'm outta here take-offs. The Black-Sheep squadron would have been proud! I was airborne and combat ready in seconds yet no Japanese Zeros joined me and no arrows or spears rained down upon my beloved Champ; only a lone Raven witnessed the show of this fledgling ski-pilot. I was to find out later after returning to my home field that the rice patty was drained in early winter leaving a hollow shell beneath the ice. I had landed on maybe 6" of ice with a heavy snow load. Warm weather was weakening my placid runway from both sides. The drop to the bottom wasn't life threatening but to a Champ 6 feet would have swallowed us up and caused damage. I now consider rice patties a place to shoot ducks and harvest rice. I seldom have the desire to land on them anymore.
I looked things over real well making two passes at different directions. Finally satisfied, I reduced power and glided over a ditch and what appeared to be a pumping station. This was in March after some warm weather. The lakes were thick with ice and the snow was heavy and in the melt stage. After a textbook landing I shut down out in the middle, got out and took a leak. I walked around a little and studied the animal tracks in the snow. I love tracks and the story they tell. Soon my tracks would tell their own story. "What a beautiful day" I thought aloud. Sipping on a cold Dr. Pepper and nibbling on some venision I glanced out across the far tree-line. I remember listening to the tick tick tick of a cooling Continental engine and the croaking call of a hoarse sounding Raven telling me to "beware". I started to reflect on the many freedoms we have like flying small planes to wild places. I was preparing to take a photo but something was terribly wrong causing me to choke on my summer sausage. It seemed to all happen at once. I heard and felt the ice shift causing my eyes to grow big as saucers. I also observed a considerable sagging on the rice patty near the plane. Right then and there I ran in 10 foot strides to the Champ and did one of them Indiana Jones light the fire I'm outta here take-offs. The Black-Sheep squadron would have been proud! I was airborne and combat ready in seconds yet no Japanese Zeros joined me and no arrows or spears rained down upon my beloved Champ; only a lone Raven witnessed the show of this fledgling ski-pilot. I was to find out later after returning to my home field that the rice patty was drained in early winter leaving a hollow shell beneath the ice. I had landed on maybe 6" of ice with a heavy snow load. Warm weather was weakening my placid runway from both sides. The drop to the bottom wasn't life threatening but to a Champ 6 feet would have swallowed us up and caused damage. I now consider rice patties a place to shoot ducks and harvest rice. I seldom have the desire to land on them anymore.