Beach Bound !

In the spring of 2003, I had the opportunity to take my friend Brian up for a short flight. I always relish opening the skies to a potential aviation enthusiast, paying it forward as my friend Steve Ellis did for me many years ago. After our flight, Brian and I went out for a beer where he promptly decided to begin training to acquire his wings. His excitement was contagious and by the time our mugs were empty, I’d committed to a 12-day general aviation adventure, destination Key West. I was ecstatic to have the privilege of mentoring a close friend and share my passion for the skies. All he needed to do was complete his training.

When the summer of 2004 arrived, we acquired the use of a plane we’d both flown many times. It was a Cessna 172. We decided to depart Lee’s Summit, Missouri before sunrise on a mid-July morning. We wanted to avoid the late afternoon thunderstorms typical of a Southern summer afternoon. Also by leaving early, we could make Panama City, Florida, in time for oysters and a frosty mug of Anheuser Busch’s finest lager.

The sun was rising to beautiful clear blue skies when we departed Lee’s Summit. I gladly flew the first leg of the flight. Cool morning skies and a lack of air traffic make for an inviting and peaceful experience in the cockpit. It gives a pilot time to relax and take in the joy of flight. Life’s troubles seem to slide away when you’re at the controls of an airplane, as nothing but the task at hand really matters.

Our flight took us south over Springfield, Missouri, and then southeast toward a place called Walnut Ridge, Arkansas. We could pick up fuel and take in a short tour of the airport. One of the joys in general aviation is the ability to visit out-of-the-way places you would never otherwise encounter. Walnut Ridge is one of those places. The airport has historical significance dating back to World War II when it was a training field for bomber pilots. Its six interconnecting runways make landing a breeze, even if the winds are uncooperative. After our tour and refueling, we departed, destination Montgomery, Alabama. We’d need another splash of fuel and a weather report before making our final assault on the oysters and lager in Panama City.

We departed Walnut Ridge and headed toward Memphis where we encountered clouds at our altitude of 5,500 feet. Since this was Brian’s first long cross-country flight, he’d never seen 5,500 feet on an altimeter or a cloud layer that would make it necessary for him to make course deviations. It made him nervous. His eyes grew wide when we encountered rain. Since the weather was good for visual flight, I laughed, cracked a joke, and he immediately calmed down.

I watched him while reflecting upon my first cross country flight as a licensed pilot. Brian was smarter than I was. He delayed taking his maiden voyage until he had a more experienced pilot to assist him. On this flight, I had a job. I would be mentoring and providing insight and guidance when critical decisions were made. I relished the opportunity but hoped we wouldn’t encounter any difficulties. If we did, I hoped I was up to the task. We continued navigating through a maze of clouds. Brian enjoyed this leg of the flight, comparing the deviations to playing a video game. He looked at me with a big grin and all I could do was chuckle.

As we approached Montgomery, we checked the airport advisory frequency and called the Montgomery tower. They denied us permission to land due to an inoperable aircraft on the runway. We quickly located an alternate airport in Greenville, Alabama. We could top off our tanks, check weather and be on our way quickly. Greenville was situated perfectly. It allowed us to hit our waypoint (REBBA) and avoid entering the restricted airspace of Eglin Air Force base to the west and the military operations area of Tyndall Air Force base to the east.

With Greenville chosen, Brian began a descent to enter the traffic pattern. We did a quick airport briefing and he began preparations for a turn to the final approach course. His airspeed was fast and altitude high when he turned inbound. I said nothing and gave him time to correct. As we closed the distance, he closed the throttle and waited for the aircraft to sink onto the runway. When it did, the aircraft bounced and became airborne again. With the stall horn blaring, I assisted by pushing the throttle to full power and pushing the nose of the airplane forward in an effort to gain airspeed. I then retracted the flaps and trimmed the plane for climb out. I handed control of the aircraft back to Brian and told him not to worry, the next landing had to be better. We went around the airport for another try and made a nice landing. Upon deplaning, the airport attendant gave us a wry smirk and offered to fill our tanks. We thanked him and went inside. When we approached the plane for our last leg of the flight, the attendant pointed out a damaged tire. Apparently, the hard landing had left one tire lean on tread. It was airworthy but any added abuse might cause a problem. There was no mechanic available so we’d need to make Panama City for service. Our landing would need a gentle touch.

We decided I would fly the last leg of the flight due to the added complexities of the airspace, a control tower airport, and now, a questionable tire. We picked up radar service and hit our waypoint perfectly. During our descent into Panama City, the controller gave us instructions and clearance to land. His inviting Southern drawl and casual attitude made for much needed comic relief as we approached. I turned final and descended toward the runway. Holding the nose of the aircraft off of the ground for as long as possible, I slowed to a crawl and gently touched down. We taxied to the ramp and spoke with the attendant. He had fuel, a mechanic and a tire. We thanked him and told him we’d be back in two days.

Brian was not his usual chipper self. Pilots tend to be hard on themselves when they make a mistake. I know; I’ve made plenty. I didn’t worry much about him as we were headed to a bar, which generally works the stress and fatigue out of a long day of flying. We sat and recapped the day’s events. We agreed that Brian’s misstep most likely would not have resulted in an accident. Yet we agreed it could have seriously damaged the aircraft. Further, he agreed I did the right thing in taking control of the situation. Brian still couldn’t let it go. After a couple of frosty treats, it was evident I needed to launch a nuclear bomb by telling him about my taxiway-landing debacle. That would make his botched landing seem like small peanuts. It worked, and by the time the evening was over the joke was on me. We also decided that a written version of my taxiway-landing incident would be a good learning tool for new pilots.

When we departed Panama City, Brian elected to make an overnight stop in Cocoa Beach, Florida. His flight and landing were flawless; his confidence rebuilt. The next day, we made a non-stop flight to Key West. The view from low altitude is unbelievable in the Florida Keys, driving home the joys of general aviation. Enjoying the Duval crawl after hearing “cleared to land” in the Conch Republic is a marvelous experience. Brian and I were proud, for we had completed a plan 15 months in the making.