The perfect approach

It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving about 8-9 years ago. I had flown from
San Diego to Clovis, NM for Turkey Day with my Sister's family. [For this
trip I did a couple hours checkout in a Piper Archer. Before that, the only
plane I had ever flown was a Citabria. My former instructor, now friend,
gave me the get-home-itis speech again and pointed out that I will probably
learn more on this flight than in all of my previous training. I scoffed
at him.]

We arrived at Clovis Muni early. I didn't bother filing a flight plan. The
weather didn't sound great but didn't sound that bad either. I figured I'd
file after I took off. Heck, I was going to have a lot of time. I knew
that they were predicting severe winds for Monday when I left San Diego days
earlier...good thing it's Sunday. Packed in the wife, and departed Clovis.
After getting some altitude I started to file a VFR flight plan. The
response I got back in my headset was something like, "...Your flying where
in a what?! We have severe turbulence being reported by Heavy Aircraft..."
PAUSE Me, "Uh, okay, guess I'll head back to Clovis Muni. Cancel that
request." Then encouragement..."Well, if you are staying that far South,
all of the severe turbulence is being reported North of your course. You'd
probably be fine." Me, "Okay." So I filed my route and flew happily off
into...

Now regarding flight planning. Lets see, I need 30 minutes reserve for this
daylight flight. This Archer can go how far? ...so that means that I can
make it to Show Low for fuel.

Okay, so I'm flying with my wife across NM. It has been a *VERY* bumpy ride
pretty much the whole way! Dutifully, I am checking of my ground land marks
every 20ish NM and comparing times with my flight plan. +5 min, +10 min
+20min +30min. Hmmm...things don't seem to be going according to plan and
well, there goes my 30 minute reserve. [I'm not looking at my old chart
right now so the numbers here aren't accurate but the message is clear,
never mind that there were airports I didn't seem to notice on the chart] I
had better stop somewhere for fuel. Let me see...Alamo Navajo (3N9) is the
closest airport about 60NM behind me. Oh, look Show Low is only about 61NM
in front of me. pause Well obviously I am not going to make Show Low with
this weather, best to turn back and get fuel. I wonder how the heck I'm
going to get fuel at Alamo Navajo? Well, best to land on a runway with
power and worry about fuel later. 180 backtrack. So now I am circling over
Alamo Navajo, except I don't see a runway. 2 or 3 more circles, I still
don't see it...now WHAT? Socorro is only about 17 miles away. Both tanks
are empty.....it is now or never. look at that nice road......another
nice road.....another nice road.....Why did it get so quiet all of a
sudden? ...fuel selector switch...fuel pump....pray pray pray....Okay, if
it stops again we are landing somewhere....another nice road....Angels
singing....there it is!!!!

Now here is the perfect approach...this will be a straight in approach from
11,500 feet. Nose down pointed at the centerline...cross the numbers near
Vne. Half way down the runway...still well...not even close....go around.
Deep breath. Found my head and flew a nice pattern to a landing following
the checklist.

This is only about 20% of the story and I've only shared about 1/3 of the
stupid mistakes I made on this flight as a young pilot. When I got home I
bought my old instructor lunch, told him that he was right, and discussed
every lesson that he taught me that I apparently felt was okay to toss out
the window on this flight.

I learned a lot from that flight....

It was just over 27 years ago - November 9, 1977 to be precise. And I was
feeling precise! I had a brand-new instrument ticket in my pocket, not 24
hours old. Hot ****, I was.

My buddy had the use of a well-equipped 250 Comanche. Full stack of radios,
ILS, ADF, MB - all the bells and whistles of the day except for DME. We were
sitting in the hangar at Renton airport and he wanted to hop over to
Boeing's to see a guy. Ceilings were right down on the deck, so he figured
we'd just drive over.

"No way!", I sez. "We'll just file IFR and run over in the Comanche."
Shouldn't take more than twice the time as driving. So we hauls the bird out
of the hangar and go through all the obligatory drill to get it in the air.
This'll be my first *actual* IFR approach!

We headed South out of Renton and Seattle Approach is just going to vector
us across Seatac, up the Sound and a 180° to the BFI localizer. Piece of
cake. As we come across the outer marker, we're solid IFR, although it's
nice and smooth. Doesn't even look like we're moving. I pull the power back
for descent and, as we cross the glideslope, I call for my pal to drop the
gear to keep us "on the beam". He kind of shrieks at me, "You can't land
here! You're at 2200 feet!" I look over at him and he's got a drop of sweat
on the tip of his nose. Hmmm...

I drop the wheels while trying to explain to him that the drag will give us
just the right rate of descent to stay on the glideslope. I don't think he's
buying it. About that time I realize the MM light is flashing and I haven't
called the tower to report outer marker inbound. Somewhat embarassed, I key
up my stopwatch and call in. Hmmm.. they don't answer. Oops, I drop the
watch and pick up the mike. "THERE you are!", sez the tower with a little
chuckle.

I know we should be crossing Spokane street and we're down to 400' or so.
Should see the lights by now. DH is 213'. I keep the plate handy in case we
have to go around. Never done that for real. My partner is really getting
fidgety. Maybe I should give him somthing to do. "Hey, Karl. Keep your eyes
peeled for the approach strobes up ahead. I'll stay on the gauges, OK?" If
eyes could bore holes through the clouds, Karl's would have done it then.

Everything is going fine except we're running out of altitude and it's still
as thick as grey cotton out there. Suddenly Karl screams (He should do
something about that yelling), "I see the strobes!". A glance down and I can
see the old Georgetown City Hall pass under the wing. Right on target! The
clouds thin out ahead and there's runway 13R - 10,000' of nice, wide
concrete.

We touch down and taxi over to the terminal. I reach up to shut things down
when I notice that they are doing so all by themselves. The rotating beacon
slows, grows dim and then goes out. One by one, the radios turn themselves
off. The nav lights and the panel lights slowly fade to nothing. The only
thing left running is the engine, slowly ticking over. I pull the mixture
out and the plane is silent, the exhaust ticking slightly as it cools.

We leave and go in search of a new battery. Sure glad the alternator didn't
decide to pack up too.

Rich S.

Carl J. Hixon wrote
It's nice that you can admit to and relate these to the group, I'm sure
there are a lot of low time pilots (me included) that can stand to have the
reinforcement of others mistakes.
Thanks
John



This is only about 20% of the story and I've only shared about 1/3 of the
stupid mistakes I made on this flight as a young pilot. When I got home I
bought my old instructor lunch, told him that he was right, and discussed
every lesson that he taught me that I apparently felt was okay to toss out
the window on this flight.

I learned a lot from that flight....