2004 02 charting a course

THE VINTAGE INSTRUCTOR

Charting a Course Keeping oriented in the digital world DOUG STEWART

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s an ardent supporter of the FAA Wings program of recurrent training, I feel that it is important that I not only give safety seminars and flight training in support of the program, but that I undergo the training myself. I decided therefore to stop in North Carolina (on a flight to Florida) to fly the three hours of training required for the Wings program with Guy Maher, whom I consider the foremost instructor for the Cessna Cardinal. I was flying my 1974 Cardinal RG to Florida (for a Thanksgiving celebration with two of my sons) rather than my PA-12 because I wanted to still be a “vintage” instructor when I reached Florida and not an “antique” instructor.

After a great deal of creative scheduling adjustments, Guy and I were able to come up with a workable plan. I would depart early on a Tuesday morning and get to Salisbury, North Carolina, with sufficient time to complete the training before his prior commitments kicked in later in the afternoon.

Of course this was all dependent upon decent VFR weather in North Carolina. The week prior to Thanksgiving the prog charts were not promising. A cold front was taking its time traveling across the country. On Sunday I was not too expectant of making the stop in North Carolina, and was thus starting to firm up Plan B of a direct flight to Florida on Wednesday. But lo and behold, on Monday the front hurried up. We were getting rain in New England, and it looked as if the flight the next day would be in severe clear, although somewhat bumpy, air.

Arising early Tuesday morning, I got my briefing, which confirmed the previous day’s prediction. It would be CAVU (ceiling and visibility unlimited) all the way with some moderate turbulence, particularly as I paralleled the lee side of the Appalachians. The temperatures reflected the cold front’s passage. It was in the low 20s. Then, in the dawn’s early light, I could see something white all over my car in the yard. Uh oh . . . the Cardinal is tied down and not hangared. When did the rain turn to snow, and how quickly? We might have a problem here, I thought to myself, as I drove to the airport where the Cardinal is based.

Unfortunately the problem was much worse than I 8

FEBRUARY 2004

had thought. As I drove west across the Taconic ridge that separates my home from my airplane, the snow depth got deeper rather than shallower. Arriving at the airport I realized that my Cardinal was covered with 1.5 inches of frozen snow. The kind that doesn’t brush off. The kind that doesn’t bang off. The kind that stays stuck until the temperature raises enough for it to melt.

There was no way this stuff was going to come off unless I could get the airplane in a heated hangar. After an hour and a half of struggling to de-ice the airplane, the owner of the heated hangar at the airport showed up.

Moving the Cardinal into the hangar yielded an ice-free aircraft in less than another half-hour.

But now I was two hours behind schedule. I had planned to fly IFR, even though VFR conditions prevailed. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about any temporary flight restrictions (TFRs), in particular the presidential retreat at Camp David, which I knew lay close to my route. Flying IFR on cross-country flights is the easiest way to pass the burden of airspace incursion on to Air Traffic Control, relieving the pilot of that chore. If I were to fly the IFR routing, it took me west of Camp David, and what with the head winds I would be encountering, it was doubtful that I would get to Guy in time to complete the training before he ran out of time.

There was only one solution . . . GPS direct. My Cardinal is equipped with a panel-mounted Garmin GNS 430 and a yoke-mounted 196. I will typically keep the 430 on the primary navigation page, and the 196 on a page that is split with a moving map and a horizontal situation indicator (HSI). As the engine warmed up I programmed the two GPS units. I scrolled the map just far enough to see that Camp David would indeed be a concern, warning me of the need to be extra careful when I got west of Baltimore. In my operational error of being in a hurry I was also beginning to forge the chain of what could become a bad situation. I was behind

schedule, and fixating on avoiding Camp David.

As I leveled off at 4,500 feet for my southwesterly route, the prediction of slow ground speeds was holding true, but at least the turbulence was nothing more than light chop most of the time, with just an occasional “moderate” bump. The visibility was that wonderful severe clear that often follows a cold front passage. Reaching southeastern Pennsylvania I scrolled my moving map out and saw that I would pass just far enough east of Camp David so as to not violate that Prohibited airspace. Checking my ETA on the GPS showed that I’d barely have time to “drain my sumps” before my appointment with Guy, but at least I would be on time. I had yet to realize that complacency, another one of those operational errors, was at work strengthening the chain.

I typically fly with the moving map on my GPS set to a 20- to 35mile scale, but because I wanted to see my proximity to the Prohibited airspace, I had zoomed in to 10 miles. I should know, of all people (since I teach in my GPS seminars about the “trap” of airspace incursion), that when operating a moving map on a GPS one needs to be especially vigilant to the airspace that lies just ahead beyond the limits of the picture on the screen.

As a dark curved line indicating the “Mode C veil” around the Washington Class B airspace started to move down the map from the top of the screen, I thought to myself that Potomac Approach, with whom I was getting advisories at the time, should soon be clearing me into the Class B. “Yikes…You idiot!

The D.C. ADIZ!” I silently screamed at myself. In my fixation on Camp David, in my being in a hurry and wanting to take the shortest line, in my complacency, I had completely forgotten about the rest of the route.

Had I continued in a straight line I would have busted directly into the air defense identification zone (ADIZ) as I overflew just west of Dulles. I had completely forgotten that the airspace around Washington, D.C., after September 11 was now an ADIZ. It required a special VFR flight plan to enter the airspace.

I could just see the story now: “Pilot escorted out of ADIZ by military aircraft is not just an ordinary pilot, but a Master Instructor and Designated Examiner.” How would I ever explain…and would it be a suspension, or worse yet a revocation? I’m too old to consider starting a new career.

Thanks to the marvel of modern technology I was able to place the cursor on my moving map at the apex of the curve of the line depicting the Mode C veil, push the “direct to” button on the GPS, and get instant navigation information to aid in not penetrating the ADIZ. Then using the depiction of the arc of the veil on the moving map (and confirming the information with the

chart in my lap!) I circumnavigated the arc until I could fly in a straight line on to my destination, arriving there with just minutes to spare before my appointment.

There were many lessons to be learned on this flight!

Perhaps the most important one is that we should never be in a hurry. The minute we get behind schedule, it becomes too easy to overlook or disregard important bits of information. There is a reason for the saying: “Time to spare…go by air.” If we can’t accept that mentality, then we are setting the stage for disaster. We should never allow an appointment, or an expected time of arrival to dictate the flight. We have to have the flexibility in our planning to allow us to either cancel the appointment we are trying to make, or cancel the flight.

Another lesson has to do with the “traps” that reliance on GPS navigation have for us. Although I teach a seminar on these many traps, I almost fell into one of them myself. When we zoom in on the map scale, there is often little, or no, warning of airspace incursion.

Furthermore, if we are operating with some of the older units, the redraw of the map might be so slow as to allow us to penetrate that airspace before the moving map indicates it. Certainly backing up our usage of the GPS map with a chart in our lap will aid in avoiding that trap. But if that chart does not have a course line drawn on it (as mine did not, due to my being in a hurry), the trap is still wide open.

On this flight I had been requesting and receiving flight following from air traffic control. But we must remember that ATC’s primary responsibility is to provide separation for IFR aircraft. Their assistance to VFR aircraft is only on an “available” basis. Therefore we cannot rely on ATC to keep us from penetrating specialuse airspace, even TFRs…even the D.C. ADIZ. Would Potomac Approach have warned me of my impending violation? I’m not so sure it would have.

So when planning any flight, do not let an ETA force you to rush your planning, or for that matter embark on, or continue the flight. Always have a Plan B, and be sure that plan is thoroughly thought out as well. Do not put your sole reliance for navigation in that little GPS clamped to your yoke (or that big one mounted in the panel, for that matter). Always carry charts, with your course line drawn on them. Request flight following whenever possible, but do not count on ATC to keep you clear of special-use airspace. That is why you got a thorough briefing prior to the flight. That is why you have a chart in your lap. Doing these things will help you transition from being a good pilot to being a great pilot. As you can see, I’m still working at it myself.

Read more about Doug’s work at www.dsflight.com.

In my operational error of being in a hurry I was also beginning to forge the chain of what could become a bad situation.

Vintage Airplane

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