Lesson #31

My hard drive was mostly recovered. No worries.

Lesson 31 was my first solo flight out of the pattern. I flew to Gary (GYY) with Alex. I left Midway on runway 22R and was vectored north. I flew a 1,800 feet. Alex later commented on this because I was cleared to 2,000ft and he wants to see me fly at the maximum cleared altitude because “altitude = options” in an emergency. Anyway, I was happy to be at 1,800ft today because I was heading north for a freaky long time and was beginning to sweat busting Bravo’s airspace. Being at 1,800ft put me under the Bravo airspace until the final inner circle, should it come to that.

I was going to ask Alex to switch the GPS out of “hide positional information from David” mode so that I could determine how close I was to Bravo’s airspace. I was also thinking about the radio call I would use to notify Midway’s tower to verify that they hadn’t forgotten me—or to tell them that I was breaking from my assigned route to avoid Bravo’s airspace, into which I had not been cleared no matter what heading the tower had given me. I was getting concerned, too, because downtown Chicago was getting closer and closer to being due east of me, and I was mentally measuring whether I would be clear of the 2,000ft on a side rule if I was cleared to turn “on course”.

Just as I was going to take matters into my own hands and make Alex show me my position on the GPS, I was vectored on course, due East, 090. Sheesh. I ended up flying just south of Soldier Field—closer to over it than to the side of it. I was happy to see that there was no game in progress, or I’d have needed to query Alex as to whether the applicable NOTAM required 1,000ft or 2,000ft clearance. At any rate, I later used Google Earth to measure the distance from my flight route to the skyscrapers and found that I was about 4,000ft from the nearest one.

As I passed down town (and what a view), I relaxed enough to appreciate the view. I pointed out to Alex the building in which I work. I wondered if any of my co-workers were looking out the south windows at that moment. I waved, just in case.

When I got over Lake Michigan, I requested a frequency change. The frequency suddenly got very busy and I listened for a frequency change approval amongst the chatter. As I got over Lake Michigan, I turned south without the tower’s knowledge. I was out of their airspace, after all, and thus they were only providing flight following at that point. While I listened for tower to get around to giving me a frequency change, Alex pointed out a twin engine plane that was heading right at me at my altitude. I scooted to the right and the other plane climbed and scooted to its right and we passed without incident. While I was concentrating on that, I recognized that the tower was talking to me. It wasn’t a “frequency change approved” message, either. What? Oh! The controller was reporting that I had traffic. I confirmed traffic in sight and asked if my frequency change had been approved. It had, I just missed it.

I then flipped to COM2 where I have Gary’s automated weather broadcast tuned in. After getting the information, I toggled over to Gary’s tower and made my call. This would be the only time today, out of four calls to Gary’s tower for clearance, that I would remember to state what information I have. It was that kind of day.

I landed without incident, taxied to Gary Jet Center and dropped off Alex. I then wandered over to the taxiway. This was my first mistake: I should have called tower right there and gotten a departure clearance. I’d get it later. I stopped short of the taxiway and had to make a calculation: Gary doesn’t have the hold lines separating its parking area from its taxiway, so I wondered if I needed permission to taxi. Better safe than sorry. I made the call. Good, because it turns out I needed to. The controller—who exercised admirable patience with be throughout the day—took care of the departure clearance at that time as well. I taxied to position holding short of the runway, made my “ready for departure” call, and was then cleared for takeoff on 30. I took off, headed south a ways, and—guessing when I was far enough—called for a frequency change. I then flew down to the Crown Point, Indiana area. I was at 3,000ft, over 2,000ft AGL, so I performed my clearing turns, didn’t see anybody, and started my slow flight maneuvers. I practiced turns at minimum controllable airspeed (I hate that stall horn!) and power-off stall recoveries. I then tried steep turns. I wasn’t able to hold altitude in the turns. I need more work on these.

I then started back to Gary. Except… where was it, exactly? I knew I could get close—I mean there is this really big lake serving as a landmark—but without knowing exactly where I was or what landmarks to use to know how far away I was, I wasn’t sure when I should make the call for clearance. Additionally, I would be approaching from the east, so the setting sun would be right in my eyes. I wouldn’t be able to see the airport until I was on top of it. So I don’t know precisely where I am on the sectional, I don’t know the landmarks to tell me when to call for clearance, and I can’t see the airport because of the sun.

Just to be clear: my concern was not about finding the airport—I knew I could do that. Instead, my concern was entirely based on a paranoia of not busting anybody’s airspace.

Here were my options, as I conceived of them in the plane:

1. Pilotage. I can circle where I am while I look at the chart and figure out my exact position. I have low expectations of finding it, though. I glanced at my sectional, but all of the landmarks with are smoke stacks—and anyone who’s familiar with Chicagoland is now laughing at the thought of picking out a particular group of smoke stack in the Gary skyscape.


2. ADF. When I was in the GAT II at Palwaukee Flyers, there was an NDB somewhere around Gary. Of course, the airports and navaid database the simulator had was old: it had 18-36 at Lansing (IGQ) as a grass strip, which is no longer the case. Looking at my sectional, I didn’t an NDB around Gary anywhere. And that wouldn’t give me range, really, either, which is what I need for the airspace clearance.


3. VOR. I could fly to the Chicago Heights VOR (CGT) and fly to Gary from there. But I don’t know how far it is from the VOR to the airfield and still wouldn’t know when to call for clearance.


4. GPS. If only I could get the GPS units to show me my position!!! It’s not cheating—I can find the airport without it—I just don’t wanna bust airspace. It’s not really cheating…


5. Dead reckoning. Use Lake Michigan as a guide to align myself N-S, but knowing that I’m a good distance east, make the clearance call far away just for good measure, and follow the lake shore to the airport. Not a bad plan, really.

With those options, I chose #5. I did my best to make #4 work first, though. I dialed knobs and pushed buttons, but I just was not familiar enough with the Garmin 530/430 to get it into navigation mode. So, dead reckoning it was.

I have given this situation a lot more thought in the days that followed, and here are some things I’ve noted.

• Foremost, I got fixated on the GPS. I didn’t give enough thought to the other options. This is really ridiculous of me. The situation was entirely salvageable without GPS and I had a mental block that wouldn’t let me see it clearly. In my defense, the NavComs were in modes that I didn’t understand and I didn’t expect I could use the VOR or ADF features on them, either. My fiddling with the units was focused on GPS because I just guessed that it would be easier to throw the units into the standard GPS map mode than to reach the VOR screens.


• Pilotage. I gave up on this too quickly. There was a lot more I could have done to figure out where I was. There are several interstate highways that cut through the area. In fact, I was flying next to one for a bit. I should have worked out my position from that. It wouldn’t have taken long.


• VOR. This was actually a really good idea, but I gave up on it too soon.
  
  
  
  • Why on earth do I actually need to know the distance from the VOR to Gary? I could have eyeballed the map to see that the VOR is approximately 8 miles from the airport—close enough to call for clearance while staying well clear of the airspace. Additionally, I would have known my exact position and I could have reported my position as being “at the Chicago Heights VOR”, thus saving myself from needing to figure out how far I was when I announced my position in getting the clearance.
  
  
  • Thinking through this a little more, I would have passed by my old stomping grounds, Lansing (IGQ) on my way to the VOR. I could have turned to Gary from there and announced my position as being above Lansing.
  
  
  • Final trick: I could have triangulated my position from two VORs. If I could have tuned in the VORs (I’m not very comfortable with the Garmin 530/430 NavComs yet) and gotten my radials. Heck, all of the VORs around here have DME, so I really only needed to tune in one, if I knew how to display the DME information.
  
  
  
  


• GPS. I really do need to learn how to use the Garmin 530/430 NavComs in my plane. Not just the GPS, either. I need to get very comfortable dialing in VORs and using the units to relieve cockpit workload. To this end, I’ve ordered the VFLITE Interactive Garmin GNS 430/530. I played with the online demo and was very happy with it—I learned several significant things in just the first lesson. The software should arrive on Wednesday or Thursday and I’ll let you know how I like it.


• Dead reckoning. I could have done better on this just by following the interstate highways north and then west. I could have eyeballed on the sectional how far east I was of the air field and looked for some obvious road crossings to delineate Gary’s airspace.

One of my big take-aways is that sectional is deceptive in the following regard: roads and bodies of water are much more identifiable from altitude than they appear on the sectional; likewise, airports are not as prominent in real life as they appear on the sectional.

So I flew up to Lake Michigan, listening to Gary’s automated weather briefing and writing down the information. I then called the tower, announced my approximate position (apparently I was off: I was asked to ident). I was cleared for a straight-in final to runway 30. Except that requires me to know where the airport is. Dag nabit. So I follow the shore line west and start to get really nervous after a while because there is no airport. I’m looking right into the sun, so if the airport isn’t where I expected it, there’s a good chance I missed it. And then I started thinking that the airport isn’t right against the lake shore, it’s a bit more inland. So I had been looking in the wrong place. That doesn’t bode well. Now I’m starting to panic because I’ve clearly busted my “straight in” clearance and I still don’t know where the airport it. That sun was really getting annoying. Had I gone too far? Wouldn’t I know if I’d gone too far? Wouldn’t the tower tell me? Wouldn’t I notice the large artificial peninsula that juts into the lake?

Suddenly the airport appeared on my left. I made a quick 90 degree left turn to place myself on a right base for 30. I called tower because I was supposed to let him know when I was on a 2 mile final. I told him the truth: I lost the airport in the sun and I was on right base for 30. He cleared me to land.

I landed and tower asked me where I was heading. Errrr. Where was I heading?! Oh, gawd—I’m going to blunder again with this controller. What was the name of the FBO? The name slipped through my mind once, but slithered away too quickly for me to grasp it. So how’s this for a ridiculous sight: I’m facing away from the tower, but flailing my arms wildly, pointing off my might right and keying the microphone stating “the one way over there!” Ugh. What a day.

I taxied, picked up Alex, headed west, practiced steep turns, then flew back to Midway.

The sole highlight of my day was Alex telling me—before I dropped him off to go solo’ing—that if it were up to him, he’d certify me right now. Nice to hear. But lessons like this one remind me that I have a long way to go in some areas. A real ego check.