Cloud buildups over the Gulf of Mexico on the Q-route
The lyrics to Tom Petty’s song “Time to Move On” are:
It’s time to move on, it’s time to get going;
What lies ahead, I have no way of knowing;
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing;
It’s time to move on, time to get going.
In the aviation world, this is known as “Get-there-itis.” It is the antsy feeling of impatience and anxiety when butterflies toss and turn in your gut. You’ve just got to get going, no matter what. Google defines it as “an aviation term for the dangerous mindset where a pilot insists on reaching their destination despite hazardous conditions, often due to pressure or a desire not to be delayed.”
I would define it a little more harshly as “the irrational desire to get to a final destination despite all relevant information suggesting elevated risks could lead to severe consequences and even death.” Get-there-itis occurs at the time in the flight planning process where there is a strong desire to just get to your destination, and rational thought goes by the wayside. You load up the plane and take off without fully considering all the ramifications. Maybe you ignore some weather indications or look the other way at some oil on the ground under the plane. You ignore the information and choose to rationalize that it is normal. Regardless of the circumstance, your mind chooses to ignore relevant facts and make excuses to allow the mission to go forward. It is hard to describe, but the feeling is unmistakable. It is that uneasy feeling at the end of a long trip where the butterflies start, and you just cannot sit still, knowing the destination is at hand.
For pilots, this feeling usually occurs waiting at the FBO, studying flight conditions, the weather (enroute and at the destination), all while trying desperately to leave on time. After all, you and your passengers are already at the airport, bags are all packed, and passengers are anxious to get going. Nothing is as boring as waiting around an FBO looking for something to do while waiting out the weather. As a pilot, you don’t want to disappoint your family or passengers by leaving them stranded on the way to a vacation or on the way home when everybody needs to get back to work and family. You look up at the sky, hoping to see a path forward, and the butterflies start as you weigh the options. Numerous times, I have been in an FBO only to hear another pilot say, “Let’s go, we have a window, and we need to leave now.” I’m not saying that is always a bad indication, but those words imply a sense of urgency that can spell disaster if the conditions are not weighed correctly.
On a trip to the Bahamas in 2021, a group of friends planned on flying three planes into Andros, Bahamas, for a multi-day fishing trip on the island. It was my first international trip to the islands and the second for the other two planes. Each of us had another couple on board, and we all planned to arrive at about the same time and return home the same way. Two of us departed from central Louisiana while the third was leaving from San Antonio, Texas. In the group was a TBM 850, and Cessna 421, and I was flying our Piper Malibu Mirage. Different planes, different capabilities, but all pressurized and long-haulers.
On the way over, the TBM and I flew the Q-routes over the Gulf of Mexico from the Leeville VOR in south Louisiana without any problems. We considered going over land and around the Gulf and flying south down the Florida coast, but a large weather system prevented that route. We landed in Fort Lauderdale for customs and then on to Andros. Unfortunately, our friend from San Antonio could not avoid the system moving south and made the right decision not to try and fly through it. For a day and a half, he tried to rationalize a route that would get him safely to the islands. After all, he had filed his EAPIS paperwork to fly internationally, had the customs and borders sticker, and an appropriate radio license. The “Get-there-itis” was eating away at him as he studied all the relevant weather information for multiple routes. We were on conference with him many times discussing the flight and the pros and cons of moving forward. In the end, he made the right decision to fly commercially and meet us there a little late.
On the way back, the exact opposite happened. The weather getting out of the Bahamas was perfect all the way into Fort Lauderdale. After clearing customs, we studied the enroute weather back to central Louisiana, and a system was moving in across the gulf. There were buildups along the coast and then some out over the gulf. We came to two different conclusions on our routes back, taking into consideration our own minimums and the performances of the two aircraft. The TBM pilot was able to fly back over the Q-routes with his ability to climb out quickly to altitude and outmaneuver a storm moving north to south. The Malibu Mirage did not have the speed or the climbing ability in the summer to get over the storm, so we decided to fly north around the storm along the coast. Headwinds and maneuvering around the storm required a stop in Dothan, Alabama, which was well north of our route, but kept us safe from the storm cells moving north to south. With the stop, we lagged behind the TBM by more than 3 hours getting home. I really wanted to follow him out over the Q-routes, and I had to suppress the desire to keep up with my buddy in the plane ahead. In the end, we made the right decision, had some Frito Pie at the FBO, and discarded the urge to try to take the short route and get home earlier.
I remember being in Customs in Fort Lauderdale and thinking, “I can make it over the Q-route.” I could feel the “Get-there-itis” creeping in. We had spent four hard days on the water searching for bone fish, and a few late nights in the bar. The stress of flying friends and wanting to get everyone home was foremost on my mind. I was tired, and I was ready for the trip to be over and to be in my own bed. I remember talking it over and regretting I was taking the safer route while watching my buddy in the TBM climb out over the water on ForeFlight. In the end, however, we both made the right decisions. He knew his plane and his abilities, and I knew the limitations of my plane and abilities. Launching out over the gulf to get home was not in my plans that day. My logbook notes mention that the trip home “took forever because storms were in the way with really bad headwinds. Had to go way north, then to the west to miss the storms. Frito Pie was delicious.”
I think a lot of our flight planning skills are built in early in our training. At that time, we are flying locally or in the traffic pattern, working on our skills. Weather briefing is a lot of looking up at the sky and seeing if there are any clouds. As we get more accomplished and start flying with instruments and in weather, our flight planning becomes more sophisticated and forward-looking over vast portions of the country. But sometimes I think we rationalize back to our early training and forget that the weather where we sit now is not the same as the weather 400 or 800 miles away in a few hours. More importantly, the weather in several days, at the end of the trip, will be different than at present. We need to train to look ahead and prepare for the inevitability that a trip will be delayed. When I take friends or family with me on the plane, one thing they will always hear is that they need to set aside two days in front of the trip and two on the back side. As the weather picture clears in advance of the trip, those days can be narrowed to provide certainty on departure and return times. If the passengers can’t live with a delay, then they need to make other arrangements.
With that in mind, I let my passengers know early what my plan is. In the week before a cross-country trip, I routinely begin looking at weather and flight planning so that I can alert anyone with me about possible contingencies. Weather planning more than five days out can be unreliable at best. But that does not mean it doesn’t have value. Trends can be spotted, and weather systems can be tracked. Then the first question needs to be asked. With the information I have today, (1) can I make the trip safely and (2) get where I need to go without incident on the route I am planning (3) on the day and at the time I want to leave? If the answer is yes, then just keep confirming those parameters have not changed up until the time of the trip, and look forward to a good flight.
If the answer is no, then more considerations need to take place. First, is there an alternate route I can take without the risks? In many high-performance pressurized planes, going 150 to 200 miles out of the way may not actually take up that much time and fuel. Or it might simply require an extra stop, but one that won’t require cancelling the trip. If another route is not an option, then you take what I call a “bonus day” and wait it out until conditions improve and the journey can be made safely. Maybe you get an extra margarita or two with an extra day of vacation. If the alternate route works, perform the same analysis as mentioned above. If your trip is less than five days, it is important to perform the task for the launch and return portions to be sure you know what is happening on the way back, well in advance of getting stranded somewhere in a long-lasting weather system.
This week I am planning our Thanksgiving trip to Dallas to visit our daughter and celebrate my wife’s birthday. From there, we will head to South Texas for the Thanksgiving holiday and return home a week later. I am looking at the weather for all three legs of the trip. For the return trip, that means looking almost two weeks out and may not offer a lot of value – but I am still looking at it.
I started watching the weather early, and it already looked like adjustments needed to be made. The early forecast is showing a strong system moving into the region over Dallas on the day we are supposed to arrive. To prepare, I let everyone know we are either leaving a day early or a day late. I called the hotel and checked availability for the day early, and the cancellation policy if we need to arrive late. The restaurant could not rebook us on such short notice, but we can certainly find a meal in Dallas without a reservation. With everything planned in advance, there is no anxiety to make the trip happen on schedule.
And that right there sums up the singular benefit of general aviation. “Get-there-itis” doesn’t have to be a negative. If you plan well in advance and account for the contingencies, the anxiety about getting to a destination goes away. So, what if you have to spend another day fishing in the Bahamas or getting another excellent meal in Dallas?
