A Flight To Remember
While I was still a private pilot, I had flown my GF down to Venice Fl for dinner at a place called Sharkies on the Pier and a night on the beach. The dinner was great as always and we headed down to the sand and surf to do a little swimming before heading back to the airport. The sun had gone down but the sky was becoming a little ominous, a dark cloud to the east with some lighting but nothing too concerning as the winds were (at the time) from the West. We headed out and I gave the flight watch a call to get a briefing while walking back to the airfield. The first big red flag that I should have never gotten back to the Skyhawk that night came when the briefer opened up by saying VFR flight strongly not recommended.
So we take off and right off the bat, I know I’ve screwed up. The weather from the gulf had closed in much faster than had been projected and the stuff from the east was still on the move. We now had thunderstorm cells to the east-west and a few popping up to the north as the systems were colliding. The winds were initially smooth but gave us one heck of a tailwind. Crunching the numbers quickly after realizing I wanted the heck out of this sucker hole as fast as possible, I noted that if we could continue north without deviating we could dodge the worst part and then turn right(East) toward Lakeland, my home airport. I was on the radio with Tampa the whole time because if I was going to get tossed around and ultimately thrown back to earth I wanted d*mned sure that the rescue crews would at least be looking in the right direction based on our nav track from Tampa Approach.
The plane was at about a 30-degree bank to the left and a pitch level and 2500 when we got sideswiped by an incredibly strong downdraft. Suddenly we were losing altitude at about a rate of 2 grand or more a minute and the whole plane is getting tossed around like a beer can in a garbage truck. Violent jarring that I was terrified was ripping the wings off. The GF has a death grip on her seat, and I’m so glued to the instruments that I have no other time or energy to waste on anything except flying and trying not to suck the seat cushion up my a** from the extreme pucker factor. We’re in the clear but still losing altitude, I’ve got the throttle firewalled but in the span of a couple of seconds we’ve dropped from 2500 feet to about a nine hundred. The plane gets clear of the downdraft and we level off. I immediately tell approach that we’re changing our destination to Sarasota, my GF’s beauty sleep be d*mned, one side swipe is enough for this evening. I make one of the most textbook-perfect landings at Sarasota (the wheels just rolled on, no squeak, no bounce, just greased on smooth) We spent four hours at the FBO waiting for the weather to clear out. By that point, the radar looked like a Picasso painting, with cells in every direction but South. If we had carried on we would have flown right into one of the strongest thunderstorms that season. It was my absolute solid Never Again moment in my flying career.