Just a Thin Layer

Compounding concerns on a short flight home

- URS W.SEILER

It must have been about two years after I received my private pilot license in Switzerland.

At 28 years of age, I was happily married with two healthy boys, aged 2 and 4, and a promising banking career lying ahead. The world and future looked bright, and I was going to take the opportunity to fly when I could.

The reason for the next trip was to visit a refinery—situated near the Italian border—that belonged to the bank. I visited the plant regularly to coordinate the bank’s activities with the factory and normally took the car, which made for a round trip of approximately six hours. This time—and considering the beautiful weather—I decided to take the airplane instead.

With barely 150 hours in my logbook, I felt that I should invite my former flying instructor, who had a total of approximately 20,000 hours, to accompany me to south Switzerland, which required a crossing of the Alps.

It was the most beautiful October day when we left relatively early in the morning from our military airport in the alpine upland in a Cessna FR172 Reims Rocket. The 172, however, was not IFR-equipped and didn’t have an autopilot.

The flight down was uneventful and beautiful. There was no wind, and my gorgeous country lay at my disposal as far as the eye could see.

I had a busy and successful day and met with my instructor at around 4 p.m. at Lugano Airport. Working all day and meeting after meeting did not give me time to think about the return flight—or prepare with any flight planning at all.

Because the weather was so beautiful on both sides of the Alps when we left, I do not remember if we even checked the weather.