when suddenly I realized I was picking up ice.
I knew by the climb of the ship which was not as fast as usual that it was accumulating a weight of ice. Then I saw slush on the windowpane. In addition, ice began to coat my air speed indicator so that it refused to register accurately on the panel before me.
In such a situation one has to get into warmer air, so I went down hoping the ice would melt. I descended until I could see the waves breaking although I could not tell exactly how far I was above them. I kept flying here until fog came down so low that I dared not keep on at such an altitude. Instrument-flying cannot be done safely very near the surface with the equipment we have today.
There was nothing left but to seek a middle ground, that is, to fly under the altitude at which I picked up ice and over the water by a sufficient margin. This would have been much easier to do had I been able to know my height.
Later, I tried going up again with the same result. So I gave up, just plowing through the “soup” and not looking out of the cockpit again until morning came. I depended on the instruments there to tell me the position of the plane in space, as under these conditions human faculties fail. Had I not been equipped with the best I could never have succeeded. The directional gyro, which is freest of all from fluctuations if set every 15 minutes, was a real life-saver.
