As winter grips southern New Jersey, the challenges of operating an airplane at an airport with a grass runway become ever more apparent. I recently captured a photo that encapsulates the struggle of balancing aviation with nature’s unpredictability. Here’s why flying from a grass runway in winter can be tricky.
Unlike paved surfaces, grass can hold onto snow for a long time. In winter, that stubborn layer of snow won’t melt away until the warmer days come along. And while snowplows are great for asphalt, there’s no way to plow a grassy field without damaging the turf. So, snow stays on the runway longer than we’d like, making it a slippery and not-so-inviting landing spot.
Even when the skies are clear, the ground conditions can mess with your flying plans. After a day of snow and thaw, the grass becomes soft and waterlogged. Even though the weather says it’s a perfect day for flying, the soaked earth can make the runway unusable. Meanwhile, you can hear other pilots flying overhead—they’re taking advantage of paved runways that dry out faster than grass—while we’re stuck waiting for drier days.
While modern tech and careful planning can help a bit, dealing with a grass runway in winter is still a challenge for pilots. The lingering snow and waterlogged ground make it a tough environment that tests both people and machines. But each winter brings lessons in patience and the beauty of nature’s resilience. Sometimes, the most memorable moments in aviation come from the struggle against the elements.
Living in Southern New Jersey, I’m fortunate that winters here aren’t as harsh as in New England. However, temperatures still hover in the mid-30s to low 40s during the colder months, which can affect how your airplane operates.
Recently, I noticed my engine temperature maxing out around 150˚F during flights—much lower than the temperatures I’d typically see in summer. That got me wondering: do I need to take action? After seeing posts about pilots covering their cowlings, I started asking questions. The unanimous answer was a resounding yes.
Why Engine Temperature Matters
It’s crucial for your engine to reach and maintain its normal operating temperature for at least 10 minutes during a flight. This ensures that any water in the oil evaporates, preventing it from lingering in the oil tank and engine. If left unchecked, that moisture can lead to corrosion inside the engine, potentially causing costly damage over time.
Some signs of corrosion to watch for include rust on the dipstick (especially on the underside where moisture collects) and rust inside the oil filler tube.
Finding a Solution
If you notice your engine running cooler than it should, consult your mechanic for advice tailored to your airplane. Every plane is different, and what worked for me may not work for you. That said, here’s how I addressed the issue in my Cessna 140—with guidance from my mechanic.
The goal is to limit the amount of cold air entering the cowling and cooling the engine too much. Some pilots fabricate custom cover plates for their air inlets, while others use tape for a quicker fix. I opted for tape since I needed a solution right away, realizing it had been far too long since my engine had run at full temperature.
My Approach
On my Cessna 140, I used good-quality duct tape to cover the air inlets on the cowling, as shown in the photos. You’ll notice the tape on the right is horizontal—this was intentional to avoid blocking the heater air intake (I think) in the bottom left corner.
Additionally, inside the cowling, there’s an opening with a pipe that directs cold air from the front through the baffle and down toward the oil pan. I covered this opening with metal tape to withstand the higher temperatures in that area.
The pipe through baffle that directs air downward toward the oil pan.Metal tape over the hole through the baffle that lets air through to the read compartment.
After making these changes, I saw engine temperatures during my next flight range from 185˚F to 190˚F—right where I wanted them! This was on a day when the outside temperature was about 38˚F.
Monitoring and Adjustments
I plan to keep an eye on the engine temperatures to ensure they don’t climb too high on warmer days. Depending on how the weather shifts, I might need to adjust the setup, but I’m hopeful this solution will hold until spring. Next year I’m going to try to find or fabricate a nicer solution for this problem.
If you’re experiencing similar issues, don’t wait too long to address them. A little preventative action can go a long way in protecting your engine during the winter months.
Update / Adjusting for Warmer Days
A day in the mid-40s came along, so I took the airplane up with the same setup I had previously used. This time, my engine temperatures climbed to 200˚F—right at the bottom of the red zone on my gauge. That was a bit warmer than I wanted, so I made an adjustment.
Instead of fully covering the inlet hole through the baffle inside the cowling, I reduced the coverage to about half. On my next flight, this brought engine temperatures down to around 165˚F (if I remember correctly), which felt like a much better balance.
Now that temperatures are starting to warm up here in Southern New Jersey, I’m hoping to remove the tape from the front of my plane soon. Looking ahead to next winter, my plan is to fully cover the baffle inlet only when temperatures are in the mid-to-upper 30s or lower. For anything in the 40s, I’ll keep some airflow open to maintain better temperature control.
Managing engine temps in winter is definitely a bit of trial and error, but it’s worth the effort to keep things running smoothly and prevent long-term damage.
I bought a tailwheel airplane—a bouncy little Cessna 140—at the end of August, and flying it has been a journey that’s both exciting and intimidating. I spent a long time debating whether I should go the tailwheel route, and even after the purchase, I had serious second thoughts. I was convinced I’d induce the dreaded ground loop that tailwheel airplanes are known for, and for a while, it felt like I might have made a huge mistake.
Adding to the challenge, I keep my plane at a small grass strip in Southern New Jersey. The strip is very close to my house, which makes it incredibly convenient—I love being able to visit my plane whenever I feel the need or want to. But it also adds a layer of complexity to my training. Grass is said to be more forgiving than pavement, and many recommend it as a better surface for learning. The reduced friction of grass can prevent some of the swerving tendencies that might lead to a dreaded ground loop. However, landing on grass still presents its own challenges, especially when the strips are small compared to practicing at large runways.
Right now, I’m still in the process of getting “transition training” to build confidence and proficiency. My instructor often has me fly from the grass strip where I keep the plane to a local airport with two large paved runways. I’ll admit, the openness of the larger airport feels reassuring. There’s no rush to get the plane down, and I can let things progress naturally. Sometimes, when returning to the grass strip, I catch myself trying to force the landing sooner than I should out of fear of overrunning the end of the runway.
Most of our time is spent at the larger airport practicing multiple landings, simulated engine outs, and crosswind techniques. These sessions have helped me feel more comfortable operating around the bigger airport, but I’m not yet 100% confident when it comes to landing back at the grass strip.
Since purchasing the airplane, there have been a few weeks when I couldn’t fly due to weather and family conflicts. Despite the downtime, I’ve managed to log just over 10 hours in this plane so far. Recently, I achieved a major milestone: I soloed at the big airport! It was both nerve-wracking and exhilarating, a huge step forward in building my confidence as a tailwheel pilot.
Thankfully, I’ve received plenty of encouragement along the way. The previous owner of my plane shared that it took him a while to feel comfortable flying solo and encouraged me to take my time and enjoy the process. “It’s worth it in the end,” he said, and I’m beginning to see what he meant.
Building confidence is a gradual process, but I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And oh man, there’s absolutely nothing like nailing a perfect wheel landing—it’s pure magic.
Hi again! Now that Tincan Flyer is up and running, I wanted to give you a sneak peek into some of the topics I’ll be diving into soon. As a new pilot and first-time airplane owner, I’ve had quite a few unique experiences that I think might resonate with others, especially those who are just starting out in aviation. Here’s a taste of what you can expect:
Aircraft Ownership for Beginners I had no prior experience with aircraft before buying my tincan. I’ll be sharing the ins and outs of what it’s like to own a plane when you’re brand new to the whole world of aviation.
Flying with Little Co-Pilots One of the most exciting parts of owning a plane has been introducing my kids to the world of aviation. I’ll share my experiences of bringing my children along for the ride, how they’ve responded, and the joy of opening up the sky to the next generation.
The Tailwheel Life I chose a tailwheel airplane (the tincan) for my flying adventures, and it has definitely been a learning experience. I’ll be writing about the quirks, benefits, and challenges of tailwheel flying.
The Journey to Aircraft Ownership Buying an airplane is no small feat! I’ll take you through the steps, surprises, and lessons I learned while navigating the aircraft purchasing process.
How Owning a Plane Changes Flying Once you own a plane, your perspective on flying changes in surprising ways. I’ll explore how having your own aircraft opens up new possibilities—and a few unexpected responsibilities.
Stay tuned for these posts and more! I’m excited to share this journey with you all.
