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.

Blue Lights at Night

It was a crystal clear October 2000 morning. I was eager to get started on my first cross-country flight since earning my private pilot certificate. After all, I had acquired it with only 41.5 hours of flight time; therefore, I must be good - right? Joining me on this flight was my mother. She too was excited to see me use what I had worked so hard to earn. We were anxious to get going, as we were headed to my niece’s first birthday party, which was that evening in Louisville, Kentucky.

We arrived at the airport in Lee’s Summit, Missouri to find that the plane we had reserved, N5164L, was late returning from a trip the previous day. Their tardiness meant our departure would be delayed. We had to depart Lee’s Summit before 1:00pm to avoid a night approach into Louisville and to arrive on time for the party. We were just about to give up when we were informed that the plane was indeed back and ready for us. It was 12:30pm.

We began rushing to keep our departure on schedule. In my haste, I forgot to latch the door before takeoff, the first link in a negative chain of events on my maiden voyage. Since I had planned a fuel stop to meet reserve requirements anyway, I decided to stay in the air with the unlatched door until I reached Columbia, Missouri. I could top off the tanks in Columbia, latch the door, and we’d be on our way with no time lost. But I soon realized how poorly equipped the airplane was. Although I had flown this plane before, I now noticed it had only one navigational aid, and while the ancient radio hadn’t concerned me before (after all it worked!), it’s handheld microphone was a problem. The unlatched door caused so much wind noise, I could barely hear the air traffic controllers. Barely off the ground, I could feel my stress level rising. We picked up radar service with Kansas City Center. They handled our flight until turning us over to the Columbia tower. We topped off the tanks, latched the door, and were off in no time.

As soon as we were airborne I noticed the heading indicator was not functioning. The compass was oscillating, and I was getting confused as to my direction of flight. I contacted the tower and they radar vectored me back to Columbia so I could set the plane down and diagnose the problem. I found the setting knob gear did not fully disengage from the compass card after adjusting it prior to takeoff. Once properly adjusted, we were on our way.

The clock was ticking and it was evident we were getting close to arriving in Louisville at night. The pressure was rising. I contacted Columbia Departure for flight following, and they handed me back over to the Kansas City Center, which then handed me over to St. Louis Approach. St. Louis Approach began vectoring me south of the Class B airspace, adding more time to our flight. We flew for quite some time before I decided to inquire as to when they might turn me east again. To my dismay, they apologized for not turning me sooner. At this time my flight plan was no longer valid. I began trying to fly direct to Louisville. However, the wind was blowing us south, which left me unsure of my location. I noticed a power plant just north of my position, so I decided to utilize dead reckoning navigation. I also decided to set the airplane down, check the weather, and prepare for a night approach into Louisville’s Bowman Field. We were in Centralia, Illinois. It was late in the day and no one was available to pump gas. I had to call for assistance. They arrived quickly, but it cost me 30 minutes. Weather conditions remained satisfactory for visual flight so I was confident I could handle the situation. We departed and were back in touch with Kansas City Center around sunset. At this point, I began turning on all of the cockpit lights and discovered that only a few worked. In my haste, I had not completed the night portion of my pre-flight check. Fortunately I had a flashlight, but with no red lens for it. I began briefing my mother about how to hold the flashlight without shining it in my eyes. She was happy and relaxed. If she had concerns, she wasn’t letting me know. Her baby boy was doing fine.

After sunset, it was nearly impossible to dead reckon navigate. Before long I was off course again. Kansas City Center then handed me over to Indianapolis Center, who later handed me off to Evansville Approach. I asked if they could assist me with my on-course heading. They complied with a radar vector and informed me of my location. I couldn’t find my location on the map. Their laughter in the background was unnerving, driving home the realization that I was in way over my head. I was scared.

Evansville handed me back over to Indianapolis Center. A short time later, I was handed over to Louisville Approach. I began to see city lights off in the distance. It was a relief knowing the conclusion of this voyage was imminent.

I began my descent, and Approach handed me over to Standiford Field. I tuned in the frequency on the only radio I had, called Standiford and got no response. I repeated this call two or three times. Still no answer. Fortunately I remembered the previous approach frequency and called them back. The controller expertly sensed the stress in my voice. After all, I was in unfamiliar territory, almost on top of Standiford Field, my destination of Bowman Field was only four miles away, and I didn’t even have it in sight. Bowman Field looked like all of the other lights in the city. My approach controller agreed to stay with me until I had the airport in sight. He radar vectored me over Bowman Field and told me to look out the left window. I looked, and to my relief, there it was! He immediately handed me off to Bowman Tower.

Bowman Tower instructed me to enter a right downwind for Runway 32. I did this and was beginning to feel a little better. I turned inbound for my final approach and was set up perfectly for a landing on the beautiful “blue” lights below. I froze in horror as I saw a bright headlight on the “runway” pointing directly at me. I immediately brought this to the controller’s attention. He asked me if I was lined up on Runway 32 or the taxiway. My heart sank. I was descending on final, in the landing configuration when the light in front of me suddenly turned onto the active runway and departed. The controller then cleared me to land on Runway 32 or the taxiway. I had very little time to make a decision. With a safe landing assured, and a clearance to land on the taxiway, I elected to use the taxiway. After landing, he cleared me to taxi onto the active “runway” and continue to the ramp where our party was awaiting our arrival.


I am grateful for the controllers in Louisville. I was in over my head all day, and they helped me to the airport and down onto the taxiway for a safe conclusion to the flight. But I’ll bet they would say it was all in a day’s work.

After making so many mistakes, I’m also grateful the chain of events didn’t drag my mother and me into the ground. Considering my lack of experience, I never should have taken her on that flight. To this day, she’s only said how well I flew the plane. I don’t think she ever knew how scared I was, especially when I landed on the taxiway. She may have never known because of the poor radios. We had headsets, but I don’t think hers was working well enough to hear the controllers. She certainly couldn’t hear what was being said into the handheld microphone, and I don’t think she knew I landed on the taxiway.

Any new rating is truly a license to learn and experience should be gained with a more experienced pilot before risking the lives of friends and family. I’ve taken many wonderful cross-country flights since that day and logged many hours of flight time. My confidence has recovered from this first flight, but I’ll never forget it. I now have my commercial pilot’s license, but this story is always worth revisiting. I will not allow myself to repeat the mistakes of the past.