This video helps to illustrate:
When I tell people that I’m very close to getting my pilot’s license, I seem to get either of the following two responses:
1) Wow that is so cool!
2) What are you going to do with it?
I feel like I’ve gotten the second response a lot lately, and I have to try hard not to look at them like they’re the crazy person, which is how they seem to look at me.
What am I going to do with my pilot’s license?!
Some people seem to ask the question because they think it’s suicidal to fly small airplanes.
Sure there are risks. Flying is less forgiving of mistakes than almost anything I can think of. But my decision to finally get my license, after a lifetime of looking at the sky, comes with an understanding that it will mean another lifetime of dedication, practice, training, and retraining.
It comes with an acceptance of the responsibility to be Pilot In Command, to make the right decision, to respond calmly and correctly if/when things go wrong.
What am I going to do with my pilot’s license??!! I’m going to learn everything I can to be the best, safest, most skilled, and oldest pilot that I can be.
Some people seem to ask the question because I am not a wealthy man. One person (very close to me, but doesn’t understand flying at all) said it doesn’t make sense to get my license because I can’t afford to buy an airplane.
I soundly reject that opinion. I reject the possibility that flying is only reserved for rich people. I can’t buy an airplane right away, but I can afford to rent an airplane for an hour or two every week. I can afford to join a flying club. I can think about buying a share of an airplane.
What am I going to do with my pilot’s license?! I’m going to find ways to afford to fly as much as I can. It means so much to me that I don’t care if it’s expensive.
Some people seem to wonder why I would put the time and money in when it doesn’t help my career or my retirement savings account. I think these are the same people that always complain that their “work-life balance” is awful yet never go do something about it. Sure, flying for me will probably just be a hobby. An expensive one. But it’s a hobby I can use to go visit my family in other parts of the country, or see new places from an interesting perspective, or just get away from the frustrations of stop lights and traffic jams. It’s a hobby that’s more challenging, rewarding, and useful than anything else I do.
So, what am I going to do with my pilot’s license? I’M GOING TO FLY!!!
Today the FAA issued a press release detailing at least one of their responses to the recent “sequester” of across-the-board spending cuts dimwittedly implemented by Congress.
In a not-so-surprising move, they decided to close 149 traffic control towers across 38 states, representing about a third of the nation’s 500+ control towers. You can see the full list here. The closures will begin April 7th and will fulfill at least part of the $637 million in cuts required by the sequester.
“We heard from communities across the country about the importance of their towers and these were very tough decisions,” said Transportation Secretary Ray LaHood. “Unfortunately we are faced with a series of difficult choices that we have to make to reach the required cuts under sequestration.”
Indeed, it is estimated that about 2,500 jobs will be lost, and could affect the $200 million in business revenue these airports generate collectively. But that’s actually the less important issue, in my opinion a distant second, to the issue of safety.
“We will work with the airports and the operators to ensure the procedures are in place to maintain the high level of safety at non-towered airports,” FAA Administrator Michael Huerta said.
It is true that there is plenty of flying done every day at non-towered airports around the country. We as pilots are trained to monitor and self-announce our positions and intentions on the common traffic advisory frequency, or CTAF. That system works, but as Richard Collins explains in his very interesting book The Next Hour, “there is no regulation about using this, only a recommendation.” He goes on to cite that “the NTSB has found that midair collisions most often involve recreational flights…flying at or near uncontrolled airports below 1,000 feet above the ground.”
Just last week I encountered a situation at my local uncontrolled airport that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I was out flying in the pattern with other students and instructors, practicing short- and soft-field landings and takeoffs, when an airplane decided to join the pattern in an unconventional manner (taking a shortcut). That wasn’t the only problem–although he was active in stating his intentions to join the pattern for the active runway, 10, he was in fact flying to join the pattern for the opposite runway, 28. It wasn’t until he crossed directly through the downwind leg of the busy traffic pattern, narrowly missing another aircraft, that he realized his mistake.
Sure, many of the airports whose towers will be closed might seem “sleepy” on most days. But having extra eyes on the sky is never a bad thing. They can help in emergencies, or when the weather gets bad, or when the traffic becomes congested. Let’s take for example the lone tower scheduled to be closed in New Jersey, at Trenton-Mercer Regional (KTTN, the airport shown in the photos in this post). It’s actually the first towered airport I flew to, and they were the first controllers I talked to, nervous as I was. It is not what I would consider a “sleepy” airport. According to the entry on AirNav, KTTN saw more than 200 operations per day in 2010, before Frontier Airlines added scheduled service to several destinations in the Southern US. I cannot imagine how this airport will operate without a control tower: large and small aircraft, intersecting runways, military operations, complex ramp space.
Apparently there is the possibility of a last-minute amendment proposed in Congress to provide more funding for control towers. This seems unlikely to me, and since it has only been pegged at $50 million, may be insufficient anyway. The FAA mentioned that the towns themselves, such as Trenton, could take on the cost of operating the control tower.
Some communities will elect to participate in FAA’s non-federal tower program and assume the cost of continued, on-site air traffic control services at their airport
This may also be somewhat difficult. I’m not sure there are many cities and towns that have room under their financial belts, let alone the aviation saavy, to take on this responsibility.
So it seems as though we as pilots will just have to make due, and after my experience last week, I can’t help but worry more about safety. In a final note about traffic and midair collisions, Richard Collins had this to say after he installed a traffic alert system in his small single-engine airplane (incidentally, based out of KTTN for many years).
The main thing that I learned was that when near an airport, there’s a lot more traffic than I ever saw…
That sure is a scary thought, and with the loss of these control towers, we have many fewer eyes (or radar dishes) that we can count on to help keep enough space between our airplanes.
Another in what will be a long list of airports I simply have to fly to some day. It helps that this one is right next to a very high-quality ski resort. While I wouldn’t mind taking a vacation just to fly to an airport, there might have to be something else for the hypothetical future family to do too. Hopefully the future family will be avid skiers.
This is the same airport used in one of those James Bond films back in the ’90s. At 1800 ft (545 m) in length, 6500 ft (2000 m) in elevation, and with an 18% slope in the middle of the runway, some excellent pilot skills are required to get in and out of here without ending up a pile of wreckage on the side of a mountain.
I’ve been out of town the last few days and the weather has been terrible, so I haven’t flown in more than a week. Even though spring is officially here in just a few days, the weather in New Jersey has been very winter-y. According to long-range forecasts, there may not be an opportunity to go flying at any point in the next 10 days.
I’m so tantalizingly close to the end of my PPL training, yet with this weather, I’m so so far away. In the meantime I’ll just have to keep daydreaming.
This is one of the best moments of a vacation in my mind. You’ve planned for months, paid for the tickets, counted down the days. Waited not-so-patiently for it to get here.
Time seemed to slow down those last few days at work before a vacation. You looked at the clock on the wall and it said quarter-past two in the afternoon. What seemed like hours passed and you looked back at the same clock. Half-past two. Time is standing still, mocking you.
Finally, done with work, you’ve arranged for a colleague to handle things while you’re gone, set up an out-of-the-office email autoreply, and walked out the door into sweet sweet freedom. Suddenly time steps on the gas pedal and starts racing you. There’s not enough minutes to do all the last minute things that have to happen before a big trip. Oh why didn’t you start packing sooner?
But relax: you’re on vacation. The departure day has arrived, you’re all packed, you’ve got your passport and your tickets. You make it through security at the airport. The flight is on-time.
It’s that time between work and vacation. Starting to decompress from the stress and routine and rigor of everyday life and go explore somewhere new. It’s time to escape. And at the gate in front of you, sleek and powerful, buzzing with activity, is the machine that will get you there.
I tend to remember every airplane I’ve flown on for vacations. This was the 777-200 that took us to Italy back in the summer of 2011 (actually, 777 to Frankfurt, Germany then an A321 down to Rome). It was an amazing trip marked by my first up-close encounters with Bernini, Velazquez, and Michaelangelo in Rome and some truly breathtaking natural scenery in Cinque Terre.
I was happy to find that, when it came time to fly my solo “cross-country” flights, I was allowed to choose where I would go.
I decided to pick places that I would actually fly to once I get my license. In my last post I described my flight to Reading, Pennsylvania (KRDG) which has an interesting approach from the east, is a quick 30 minute flight, and has an aviation museum and a restaurant with “good buffalo chicken wings” according to my flight instructor. While I probably will not vacation in Reading, I will certainly make that flight with passengers, as a so called “$100 hamburger” flight.
The next flight had me land in Scranton, Pennsylvania at KAVP. As I mentioned, I had been to that airport several times on commercial airlines to visit family. In fact, my entire extended family on my Mom’s side meets every summer in Scranton. The drive is almost 3 hours from my house, while the flight with a moderate headwind is less than an hour. My goal is to never have to drive to Scranton again!
After those flights, I still needed just over an hour of solo cross-country flying to meet the FAA minimum. I decided I would fly to Cape May, New Jersey at the southernmost point of the state.
Cape May is a place I would like to visit: it is one of the more iconic destinations for a romantic weekend getaway in New Jersey.
But the drive is about 2.5 hours, and I haven’t been motivated to make the trip…until I can fly there!
I took a half-day off work and reserved my favorite Cessna 172S for a few hours in the morning. Again I scheduled it the day before the forecast arrival of a winter storm, and I scoured the weather reports and forecasts in the days leading up to the flight. A few days before, the 48 hour forecast seemed promising: light winds throughout New Jersey with visibility greater than 6 miles and ceiling above 12,000 feet. Perfect.
The night before the flight I spent a few hours on the basic flight planning. It almost felt like I was back in school, feverishly cramming for a big test the next day. I plotted the course and decided on checkpoints, calculated distances, alternates, and the sequence of radio frequencies I would likely use to communicate with air traffic control.
I visualized what the descent and approach into Cape May County Airport would look like, and studied the airport diagram. Based on the forecast winds I had a good idea which runway I would be landing on. It is amazing how much it helps to go through a thorough planning routine, even for a short, simple flight. I know I can fly the airplane, but situational awareness is so key that going through a mental rehearsal while I plan a flight helps me stay ahead of the airplane during every phase of the trip. More on situational awareness in a future post…
The next morning I woke up early to that subtle sense of anticipation that soon “I GET TO GO FLYING TODAY!!” Okay…so maybe it’s not so subtle. I should say that I sprang out of bed faster than I ever do when I have to go to work.
I arrived at the airport about an hour before my flight, which left me plenty of time to call Flight Services, obtain a full weather briefing for the flight, file a VFR flight plan, and finish calculating the magnetic heading, the pressure altitude, estimated ground speeds, and time en route based on the current wind conditions.
After a quick meeting with my flight instructor I was comfortable making the “Go” decision, and once it was finalized and I picked up the keys to the airplane my heart rate ticked up just a bit from the sheer excitement. I’m no longer nervous to fly solo, it’s just so so much fun.
The preflight inspection, engine start, taxi, and run-up were all smooth. There was barely a breath of wind as I advanced the throttle and accelerated down the runway and eased the plane off the ground at 61 knots.
As I climbed to 6,500 feet I called the Flight Service Station and opened my flight plan, then contacted McGuire Approach to obtain VFR flight following. I could already see Philadelphia and Atlantic City, and just a few minutes later the entire shape of southern New Jersey came into view. I still had some 70 miles to go but I could already see Cape May. The airspace was quiet on a Friday morning, and the controllers were pleasant. I enjoyed the view as much as I could while I scanned the instruments and maintained course.
With about 10 miles to go I advised the controller that I had the field in sight and she released me to change frequencies and descend at my discretion. During the descent I dialed in the Cape May AWOS for the latest wind information, chose the appropriate runway for landing, and began setting up for the approach. As I descended through 2000 feet there was some light turbulence, but the approach and landing went well.
Then another aircraft called over the common traffic advisory frequency for Cape May that he was taxiing to a different runway–the intersecting runway–from the one on which I had just landed. I was worried–had I made an error in choosing this runway? I rechecked the AWOS. The winds were changing somewhat, but I was sure I made the right choice. Perhaps there is some sort of local preference for that runway–and to be honest, there was a crosswind component for both runways, I could have chosen the other and accepted a slightly stronger crosswind. Just to be safe I decided to takeoff on the same runway as the other airplane, and in taxiing across the field I passed the Wildwood Naval Air Station Aviation Museum. There was a row of old, forlorn-looking military transport aircraft on the ramp.
I wondered about the stories those planes could tell, and was kind of melancholy seeing how most of them were gutted of essential parts, and are now nothing more than giant paper-weights and bird nests.
The takeoff was smooth and as I climbed up to 5,500 feet I contacted the same controller at Atlantic City. A few minutes later after I leveled off at cruising altitude I heard her give a traffic advisory to a Coast Guard aircraft, and I could tell she was talking about my airplane. I looked out the windshield and just then a Coast Guard Gulfstream IV jet came into view, just 1,000 feet above me passing to the east as I was flying north. That’s the closest I’ve been to another airplane while flying, and such a cool one at that!
The flight home was smooth and uneventful, and as I said “good-day” to New York Approach after he released me from radar service, I decided to practice a short-field landing back at Princeton…
Well, the cross-country flight was extremely fun, and I can’t wait to make the same flight with a passenger (think: romantic weekend getaway…+FLYING!!!). One important thing I learned, however, is that I need more practice on short-field landings!
Thanks for reading, until next time.
The weather so far in the new year has been, shall we say, disagreeable with VFR flight.
I’ve learned to expect it from New Jersey: this part of North America seems to be shaped to collect some pretty nasty weather. Nor’easters race up from the Carolinas and always seem to collide with a low pressure system moving in from the West-Northwest. The whole mess sits off of Long Island or Massachusetts and spins all kinds of wind and rain and snow and sleet at the coasts. Add a blocking ridge over Greenland and we’re stuck in the soup for days, or weeks it seems sometimes.
Recently some weather outlets have begun naming the winter storms, so the whole region is worked up into a frenzy for a week while we wait for storms with names like “Nemo” and “Q” and on and on.
Anyway, back to flying. There was, in fact, some flying to be had. I completed all of my solo cross-country requirements in the last 2 months. My strategy has been to wait for the “calm before the storm” and it has worked quite nicely.
My first solo flight of more than 50 nautical miles (“cross-country”) was from Princeton (39N) to Reading, PA (KRDG) and back. It was thrilling… exhilarating…almost beyond words, despite being a relatively short flight between relatively un-exciting airports.
Most of the enjoyment came from the satisfaction I felt to accomplish all of the planning, pre-flight, air traffic communications, en-route, and terminal phases of the flight. It was the first time I felt a sense of being a real pilot, and it was so addictive.
A few weeks later, the day before winter storm Nemo arrived, I flew my “long” cross-country, which required multiple stops. For this trip, I flew from 39N to Scranton/Wilkes-Barre, PA (KAVP) then to KRDG, and back home. I chose KAVP because it was a longer leg than I had flown previously, and because I have flown to that airport on commercial airlines many times in the past to visit relatives. I was ecstatic as I flew down over the ridge on a long right base leg to Runway 4.
No time to waste (due to the high expense of airplane rental), I taxied back and departed to the Northeast, then was vectored to my final course to the South to avoid the arrival corridor. This was the most challenging part of the trip since I was required to make a right turn after take-off, remain clear of the ski slope on the ridge to the East of the airport, and then follow the controller’s vector request.
The flight down to Reading was mostly unremarkable, despite being over some lovely, snow-covered terrain. It was a very cold, calm morning just before that massive snowstorm hit the region. The ceiling was overcast at about 12,000 with the high clouds before a frontal system, so there was almost no glare to speak of. At times a few rays of sunlight would break through and highlight the winter landscape below. I couldn’t have been happier.
The landing at Reading was smooth, and before I knew it I was back in the air heading East for Princeton. Reading Departure handed me off to Allentown Approach, then Philadelphia Approach, during which time I received a traffic advisory for a Dash-8 crossing my path. Besides this exchange, there was very little traffic and the radio was mostly quiet. There was nobody in the pattern once I got back to Princeton; it was nice having the place to myself, typically the field is buzzing with students and helicopter traffic.
It turns out there was a police helicopter idling on the ramp, and as I pulled up, shut-down, and walked back to the office, the Governor of the State of New Jersey, Chris Christie, got out of a black SUV and jogged over to the chopper. It was a strange crossing of paths.
These two flights gave me about 4 hours of solo cross-country flight, and I need a minimum of 5 hours. In the next few days I’ll write another update and tell you about my flight down to Cape May at the southern point of New Jersey. Thanks for reading!