The morning's forecast calls for freezing fog over much of he area, and the town is already enveloped in fog. I go through it to get some groceries and a layer of ice doesn't form on me, but I don't know if that's because it's not freezing fog or because I'm not an airplane.
After a few hours the fog dissipates and we go flying. A guy tows the airplane out of the hangar for us with a little tractor. It's not one of the old agricultural tractors like on the prairies, but a smaller, newer, utility tractor. It does the job.
As I watch him towing out the airplane I see an enormous raven glide over the hangar. It pauses to perch on a fence, then swoops down out of sight behind the hangar. A moment later another worker yells at the guy on the tractor, "Hey, there's a raven after your lunch!" He runs off to shoo the bird and rescue his lunch. What I couldn't see was that the raven was in the back of his truck. I'm not sure whether it was opening his lunch box--they're certainly crafty enough to do that--or just tearing open shopping bags. I'm certain that birds like that understand the concept of swiping stuff as opposed to finding your own, because they steal from one another all the time and go chasing after the thief, gronking loudly. But do they know that the things in cars and trucks are ours? I bet they do. I think they know perfectly well that lunchboxes are not a naturally occurring phenomenon, and that they will annoy us by taking food from them, just as they annoy wolves by "sharing" their kills too. But that's what they do. My airplane takes 100LL. Ravens take your lunch. Local legend asserts that Raven stole the sun, so a few sandwiches constitute very petty larceny.
The engines are happy with their fresh oil and overnight hangar stay, so we're on our way after conditioning the new brake pads. We crank up the heat in the airplane for the computers in the back, but because some of the electronics are in the rear of the airplane, designed as a cargo compartment, we are sweltering in order to have enough heat back there to keep the computers going. I lay my arm against the cold exterior window and pour some of my drinking water into my bra in an attempt to cool off. It varies between -10 and -15 outside, and apparently it's only 15 degrees at the back, but it's like a sauna in the cockpit.
There is some fog still on the ground west of town. It gradually vanishes during the flight, but it's forecast to come in worse tonight, so we finish our day before dark and put the airplane back in the hangar.
Back at the hotel I'm ready for a delicious fresh salad, but a minor tragedy awaits me. My fridge is too cold. I have all the ingredients for a very very crisp salad. Everything is frozen. The lettuce is delicate crunchy like autumn leaves. I rinse it under the tap and the entire package reduces to a double handful of mush, like cooked spinach. The cucumber is so solid that at first I think it's okay, but it thaws to mush. I don't even think a raven would eat it.
Here's a weird accident report. Anyone familiar with CRJ systems have an idea how this could happen the way the pilot said it did?