Our pilot was an aerial photographer based in southwestern Ontario who was on a job that would take him to the Thousand Islands region bordering Ontario and upstate New York. On the way he stopped in Peterborough, Ontario for fuel where he consulted with flight services to examine a line of thunderstorms that had been pelting Ottawa to the northeast throughout the day. The storms were heading southwest in a path that would eventually cross our pilots route. It was anticipated that the storms wouldn’t be near the Thousand Islands area for about two and a half hours which would leave better than a one hour buffer for our pilot. Or so he thought.

A short time later, airborne and on his way to his destination our pilot began to observe a daunting wall approaching from his left… quickly. The storm had picked up strength, and evidently speed, and was closing in fast. Within minutes, with the storm starting to surround him, our pilot was looking for a place to land when he was faced with a decision. Allow the storm to force him south over Lake Ontario or fly headlong into the darkness of the angry weather. Not wanting to be placed in a position to have to ditch, our pilot chose the latter deeming it the lesser of two evils.

Within minutes the clouds engulfed the Cessna 172. In a blink, daylight became darkness. Surprisingly, there was relatively little turbulence, but what was terrifying were the bolts of lightning that more than a few times illuminated the darkness.

Our pilot contacted the tower at nearby Canadian Forces Base Trenton and identified himself as being about 10 miles away, within a storm cloud, and requesting vectors and permission to land. His Cessna wasn’t equipped with a transponder but the controller did confirm that she had him identified on primary radar at 12 miles to the northeast and provided a DF steer to the base.

Now on his way to safety, our pilot wondered if while checking her radar the controller might have been thinking “You’re the only idiot out there on my radar.” Nevertheless, our pilot followed the controller’s directions, located the field, and made an uneventful landing. Safely on the ground, the reality of the situation struck him as he contemplated his recent experience.

Not very long afterwards a military C-130 Hercules arrived from Gander, Newfoundland. In conversation with our pilot, the crew commented on the ferocity of the storm. “That’s got to be the worst we’ve ever been in” said the crewmember.

The lesson here is that despite obtaining a preflight briefing and attempting to plan his flight to accommodate predicted weather trends, our pilot learned to expect the unexpected. The weather was extremely unstable that day, even worse than usual, so forecasts at that point should merely be considered a descent guess rather than prophecy. A window of an hour ahead of the weather proved to be insufficient. In hindsight, our pilot thinks that staying put in Peterborough would have been the best bet. Failing that, ensuring that you’re always left with an out (or three) gives you your best shot at being able to tell the story yourself rather than having one written about you.  

Fly safe(r).

Anthony Nalli is the Director of Canadian Development, General Aviation Collision Avoidance and President of SciDac Corporation/PCAS.ca. PCAS.ca is dedicated to the implementation of affordable collision avoidance devices in General Aviation with a mission to eliminate mid-air collisions and dramatically reduce close calls. Anthony can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it , 1-888-PCAS-123 (GTA: 416-225-9266), and www.PCAS.ca