The Art, Science and Lunacy of Holding Patterns

Art: The human effort to imitate, supplement, alter, or counteract the work of nature.
Science: Skill, esp. reflecting a precise application of facts or principles; proficiency.
Lunacy: Insanity, especially insanity relieved intermittently by periods of clear-mindedness.

If I have a common theme to this learning process it is the challenge of comprehension and retention. First you have to understand a subject and then you have to remember it. A seemingly simple mental process that constantly confounds me.

My wife and co-pilot has commented, "Gary, your problem is that you have this need to know EVERYTHING about a subject you're studying. Just learn what you NEED to know and move on. Otherwise, you will drive yourself crazy."

On one hand, she definitely has a point.

I don't need to know everything there is to know about the engine in my Jeep just to change the oil. I get that, though sometimes, I forget that.

Yet when it comes to the art and science of flight, I have a fear that NOT knowing EVERYTHING will kill me.

I have reviewed the subject of Holding Patterns many times in the past. So, when I approached the subject, once again, I was expecting a speedy review of that which I already knew. Once again, however, the limitations of my feeble brain became obvious.

I think part of the problem of learning any subject on flying is the limitations of any single source of material. I have found that there is no one book, video or learning tool that will teach you all you need to know on any particular subject. Holding patterns is a good example. I have reviewed the FAA Instrument Flight Manual, Rod Machado's Instrument Pilot's Survival Manual, The Instrument Flight Training Manual by Peter Dogan and various online sources dealing with holding patterns. Not one of these sources, by itself, clearly covered everything there is to know about learning holding patterns.

The following summarizes everything I have been able to document to date on the subject. The drawings I created using Autocad.  

Holding Patterns - The Important Stuff

Treat all lines as radials coming out of the fix and write them down
During any parallel entry the first outbound leg is flown on the non-holding side of the course

The outbound turn is begun at the fix

The holding course is the course on which the inbound leg is flown

The inbound leg is one minute long

The outbound leg is adjusted to compensate for the wind so that the inbound leg is one minute long

Abeam is the position opposite the fix where timing of the outbound leg begins

A standard hold is where all turns are to the right

Max holding speeds

• to 6000 msl 200 kts
• 6000 to 14000 230 kts
• 14000 and above 265kts

The zone of ambiguity is the region close to the line that separates the To \ From areas. This is where the flag reads Off

The Cone of Confusion is directly over the station and widens with altitude

Use a 20 - 30 degree intercept angle if you over shoot the course

Say " turn time twist throttle talk " each time you cross the fix or 
turn inbound

Ask yourself which side of the fix you are on - holding or non-holding?

Holding Clearance includes:

• The word "hold"
• A direction to hold from the fix
• The name of the fix
• A course
• Leg length
• The direction of the turns
• Expect Further Clearance time (EFC)

“Hold west of STS VOR on the 300 degree radial, one minute legs, left turns. Expect further clearance at 1800.”

Note that the statement to “hold west” is redundant. There is no other way to hold on the 300 degree radial. It is provided to help the pilot avoid holding on the wrong side of the fix.  

After clearance is received:

• Draw the fix
• Draw the hold course with an arrow pointing to the inbound course
• Draw direction of turn - standard is right hand and is assumed if no direction is mentioned in the clearance
• Indicate the planes location in relation to the fix and visualize the entry. If a teardrop entry is required determine the initial heading

Correct visualization is the key to mastering holds. This can be practiced on MSFS

When orienting from a VOR mentally rotate the aircraft to the desired course on order to correctly interpret he CDI

To determine correct hold entry first turn to the heading to the VOR or fix. Then mentally superimpose the 70 degree line on the heading indicator. For standard (right turns) the 70 degree line is counted from the right side of the HI. For left turns the 70 degree line is counted to the left of the heading (line slopes up from left to right)     Just draw the pattern on the chart and the 70 degree holding line into the pattern.

Practice intersection holds

Practice intersection holds with a single VOR (two are typically required) (equipment failure)

Inbound leg above 14000 feet is 1.5 minutes.

I created the following diagrams to help me review the various patterns both now and in the future. 

The basic holding pattern and naming conventions:

VOR indications from various points in the holding pattern

The direct entry procedures

The parallel entry procedures

The tear drop entry procedures

 Gary Welch

Approach Briefing - Hi, my name is Gary and I'm a pilot....

I am striving to learn to "brief" or prepare  for an approach while in-flight. On the surface this sounds simple. I can do it very easily while reclining on my couch with my feet up and sipping a cup of tea. I leisurely start to read the entire approach from top to bottom while making notes, or highlighting, as I go along. After a few minutes of concentration, note-taking and review I am quite ready for the approach. Yet accomplishing the same task while listening to air traffic control, staying on course and altitude while some of my aircraft systems are failing... well, I ain't there yet.

Originally, I thought this was something you always did on the ground before the flight. I soon discovered that air traffic control, the weather and other factors will frequently require you to re-plan for a new approach while in the air. Understanding the published approach to an airport is critical to, well, survival. It is, therefore, important to have a clear system for preparing for an approach.

The new FAA "briefing strip" that is published as part of the new instrument approaches goes a long way to simplifying this process. Here's a typical example:

The new strip has not been updated on all approach plates. As I understand it, the new version is only created when a change to an existing procedure is required.  

The new briefing strip attempts to group most of the critical data in a consistent format at the top of the approach plate. As a IFR neophyte I wish they had called it something other than "briefing strip".

In my un-learned opinion, the "briefing strip" should be re-named the "partial briefing strip". The strip has some of the information for the approach briefing but certainly not all of the critical data. To my somewhat limited mentality, the term "briefing strip" just confuses the process of "briefing the approach". Why didn't they call it Bill or George, or anything but "briefing strip"???

Of course the experienced IFR pilot will say, "Well, duhh, of course it doesn't have everything. You have to read the entire approach to understand everything."

I understand that argument so I guess my problem is the confusion of terminology. For the uninitiated student pilot "briefing strip" and "approach briefing" imply similar functions. Yet to properly "brief the approach", you have to do a few more steps than just review the briefing strip.

These steps include:

• Decision height or minimum descent altitude
• Minimum visibility
• Missed approach guidance frequency
• Any special notes or procedures noted on the approach plate
• Review appropriate airspeed and flap configuration
• Consider what you will want to do if you have to "go missed". ie: request another attempt or divert to an alternate.

 As near as I can figure from my research, the following covers all of the information that needs to be reviewed to fully brief the approach.

Approach Briefing

1. Approach runway (on briefing strip)

2.Nav aid frequency (on briefing strip)

3. Approach course (on briefing strip)

4. Glideslope intercept/FAF

5. Decision Altitude / Minimum Descent Altitude

6. Timing

7. Touch down zone elevation (on briefing strip)

8. Runway length (on briefing strip)

9. Landing Distance

10. Airspeed

11. Flap setting

12. Missed Approach Point

13. Missed Approach Procedure (on briefing strip)

14. Where to after the missed approach - another attempt or divert to alternate?

15. Procedure Notes

The 6 "A's" of the Approach

1. ATIS - get it as early as possible. This will tell you if you can expect to fly the full approach or if you will need to circle.
2. Altimeter set - from the ATIS
3. Approach Brief -  
• How long? - approach timing - segments and missed approach time
• How low? - minimums and segments
• Missed approach - always PLAN to go missed
4. Avionics set - Navs and Coms 
5. Airspeed - fixed at final approach fix
6. Align - verify final approach course

I will update this if I learn of additional issues should be noted. Part of briefing the approach is being able to do it fairly quickly. Presumably, after some level of practice, a list such as the above should not be necessary. However, at my stage of learning I find this helpful to summarize the information I need to be aware of.

Gary

A Rose By Any Other Name - Will Still Confuse the Hell Out of Me

I have issues with the compass rose. It makes me feel stupid. I have no doubt that I am mathematically challenged and this may be the crux of my particular issues with the compass rose.

The compass rose has appeared on charts and maps since the 1300's. The term "rose" comes from the figure's compass points resembling the petals of the well-known flower.

In trying to understand my problem with the compass rose I believed the affliction was a lack of "situational awareness". That is, until I looked up the definition of the term. Wikipedia defines situational awareness as "the perception of environmental elements within a volume of time and space, the comprehension of their meaning, and the projection of their status in the near future." 

Ok, that's generally related, but it doesn't clearly define the issue. In order to solve a problem it helps to define it first.

I think a clearer term would be "directional awareness". I am not always certain where I am in relation to a fix and/or I cannot figure it out quickly enough for IFR flight purposes. I think directional awareness needs to be automatic in order to be a competent instrument pilot. It's almost as important to a VFR pilot as well.   

At first blush the innocent looking compass rose appears simple and logical. Numbers 0 through 359 in equal segments around a circle. The numbers are divided equally, with 90 degrees one quarter of the way to the right, 180 at the bottom and 270 on the left. Or 36 segments at 10 degrees each.

Yet if the compass rose is so simple why does my brain get twisted in a knot while trying to do basic instrument maneuvers?

First off, and the part that kind of pisses me off, is that North is not North. Not where I live anyway (in northern California). North is North East. North is not "up the coast", it's heading is way over to what I used to think was the northeast corner of the state. That would be wrong though. It's the North corner of the state. The coast line is oriented northwest.

Another problem more specific to flying is the changing perspective of the compass rose. On one hand, you have the compass rose of the magnetic compass (or DG). It's easy to comprehend, even for me. It displays the "heading to" direction. Simple, stupid - so what's the problem?

On the other hand, you have the imaginary compass rose that is centered on your next fix. The next fix might be an airport, VOR, airway intersection or grandma's house. 

When flying IFR it is critical for directional awareness to always understand your position "from" your next fix. If you have a moving map GPS, this problem is almost moot. I don't, so I need to come up with a system to maintain this "directional awareness". Probably a good thing to know even if you have a decent GPS.    

In the comfort of my home office I can sit back and slowly do the math for a reciprocal heading.

"Let's see, 44 degrees plus 180 equals, uhhh 224!" .

What's the problem? Ok, but let's try another example looking for the reciprocal heading of 183 degrees.

"Let's see 183 degrees plus 180 degrees equals, uhhh 363."
"No wait, this time you add 200 and subtract 20. So 183 plus 200 equal 383 minus 20 equals, uhh, that's wrong too."       
"Ok, with 183 you just subtract 180 so it's 3 degrees!".

So, now, where am I in relation to the fix? Uhh, let me think...

I thought it might help to create a compass rose that I could study that would clearly show reciprocal headings. After a few iterations I came up the following:

I made multiple copies of the rose and placed one on my bathroom mirror, one behind my monitor in my home office and one behind my monitor at work. The rose has the normal compass headings on the outside circle and the reciprocal headings on the inner circle. Visually it allows an immediate connection to to the reciprocal.

I try to memorize the reciprocal of a heading. It is slow going. The roses have been up for a year and I still don't have all the reciprocals memorized.

I do understand that you can simply look at the aircraft's compass or DG and read the reciprocal directly from there. In my opinion, though, that's not good enough. Also it doesn't solve the whole directional awareness problem.

It's one thing to know the reciprocal heading - and another thing to clearly visualize exactly where you are in relation to the fix.

I started talking about this issue with my wife, and co-pilot, Linda this morning. After some back and forth we figured out that it would help if I started solving the problem by first imaging which quadrant from the fix I was in.

"Let's see, if I'm on a 055 degree heading to an airport, that would put me in the southwest quadrant from the fix. Ergo, I am southwest of the fix."

Eureka! It was an epiphany. If I could first place myself mentally in the correct quadrant, then I was halfway to directional awareness. Then as I began my reciprocal calculation I knew approximately where the answer would lie.     

To summarize - to determine where you are from a fix you are heading to, first picture what quadrant you are in from the fix - northeast, southeast, southwest or northwest.

Next calculate the reciprocal knowing the answer will lie within that quadrant from the fix.

To do this, if the heading to the fix is between 0 and180 degrees ADD 180 degrees. Or ADD 200 and then SUBTRACT 20.

If the heading to the fix is between 180 degrees and 359 degrees SUBTRACT 180 degrees. Or SUBTRACT 200 degrees and then ADD 20 degrees.

Probably somewhere in my flight training a flight instructor taught me this and I simply forgot it. Or perhaps they should have and didn't. Or perhaps I should have figured this out myself a long time ago.

The one thing I do know that works for me is simply writing down a problem. Once I start putting the words on paper, the problem and the solutions, have a way of crawling out of the darkness of my sub-conscious.

Gary

My Second IFR Approach Flight

My instructor suggested we do two approaches. We would fly the FREES6 departure from Santa Rosa (STS), then direct to Scaggs Island VOR (SGD) for the transition to the Napa Loc 36L approach. We would go missed at Napa, which would bring us back to SGD. Since SGD is one of the transition routes to the STS ILS-32, this would be the beginning of IAP number two.

When I received my instructor’s email explaining the above lesson plan my first reaction was – “say what”? Trying to wrap my head around this plan sent synaptic fireworks off in my brain. I re-read his email in the hope that everything I had already learned would somehow fall into place. I hoped I would have an epiphany where all the complex ramifications would simply reveal themselves to me in a calming light of singing angels.

It didn’t happen. I was gripped with a sinking feeling of self-doubt and angst.

Hell, I have doubts about my ability just to fly the simple departure procedure. How can I even hope to learn everything I will need to know to fly this lesson plan? Even if I do manage to “learn” this on paper and MSFS, there is no way I’ll actually be able to fly it. At least not with foggles on, no moving map GPS and with ATC constantly yapping at me.

“You are too stupid to fly IFR. Quit now, Gary,” said one of the voices in my head.

I decided to begin with the flight plan. I know enough to realize that, although I will be doing only one landing, I will need to file two flight plans. I start up AOPA Internet Flight Planner and create the two flight plans. I include the various intersections, pick appropriate altitudes and print out the Nav logs, charts and flight plans for each flight. Now what?

I decide to review each step of the flight. I print out the current version of the FREES6 departure procedure, the APC Loc 36L approach plate and the STS ILS 32 approach. I try to memorize as much as I can. After 30 minutes I find I can remember the names of the procedures but not much else. I decide a highlighter, identifying the important parts, might help me pick out the information quickly when I need it.

Over the next week I fly all or parts of the plan on MSFS a number of times. Slowly I start to have some understanding of what’s involved. Yet, even with the pause button, I still get behind the plane. As the day for my flight approaches I comfort myself with the thought that, “Actually flying the plane will be much easier than flying the simulator”. Two minutes into the actual flight I realized the fallacy of that concept.

I arrive at the FBO and proudly proclaim to my flight instructor that I have done my homework! I have a ream-and-a-half of print-outs, charts, flight plans, logs, full size approach plates, checklists and a 98 page DUATS weather briefing. It all fits neatly on my 81/2x14 clipboard along with my electronic E6B, post-it holder, tethered pencil and Johnny Quest flashlight. I’m thinking my instructor must be impressed, but for some reason his eyes seem to roll back into his head. Probably a touch of vertigo from his last lesson, I’m thinking.

In the plane my instructor coaches me on how to request our IFR clearance from the ground controller. He advises me to be ready to copy the clearance. No problem. Since I filed the flight plan, I already know what the clearance is going to be, right?

“34777 I have your clearance,” says ground control.

“Go ahead”, I say calmly waiting for the familiar words to flow into my headset.

“34777 is cleared to Napa via hjjkjlk;k, then tnfkgfke, sdfsd;lk, squawk fdk;fskd;f.”

“What did he say? Did you get any of that?” I ask my CFII.

“Yep”

“But it’s not what I filed for. I haven’t studied that. I don’t even know what he was talking about,” I whine.

“Welcome to IFR,” says CFII.

“Did he say right turn-out on departure?”

“Yep”

“But that’s not a departure procedure or an low altitude route. How does he know I won’t hit a mountain or something else?” I ask, thoroughly confused.

“Because it’s CAVU and I don’t have foggles on,” explains the CFII like I’m some kind of idiot. Not an idiot-savant, just a plain old idiot.

We were radar vectored all the way to the localizer at Napa. This possibility had never even crossed my mind.

From the moment we left the runway at STS I had absolutely no idea where I was. I was following the controller’s headings and altitude changes which seemed to come every thirty seconds. The mountain of paperwork, charts and paraphernalia I had carried on my clipboard became a serious distraction. There was too much stuff and I couldn’t find what I needed when I needed it.

I tried to glance at my three-inch diameter, circa 1990, Apollo GPS to figure out where I was.

“I’m lost,” I declare to my CFII after the radio is silent for a few moments.

“Look at your GPS,” he says.

“I am, but I don’t have enough time to look at it, think about what it’s telling me and still fly the plane,” I say.

When we intercepted the localizer I still couldn’t grasp where I was and what I was supposed to be doing next. My instructor calmly spoon-fed me what I needed to know.

I think that’s when I realized how much I still had to learn. I also realized the only real way to learn this was sitting in the pilot’s seat and trying to do it. I think this realization helped calm me down and I decided I would just do the best I could and let my flight instructor help with the rest.

When we reached 360 feet on the final approach to 36L at Napa, my instructor told me to take off the foggles. The runway was in front of me and I could have made a normal landing. However, I felt no real elation since I knew that I had never really been in control of the approach. I was flying the plane without any sense of situational awareness.

We called “missed approach” and began the turn to the Scaggs Island VOR. I had flown this transition route many times on flight simulator. I couldn’t use the same excuses I had for the radar-vectored Napa approach. I knew where I was now and where I was going.

Unfortunately, that didn’t help me very much. I still felt like I was a mile behind the plane. I didn’t do too badly on the ILS. I was able to keep both of the needles from getting too far off center. The foggles came off at decision height and I was able to make a fairly normal landing.

After the flight my flight instructor spend some time suggesting how I could minimize and simplify my cockpit organization. He gave me some words of encouragement as well. I felt he had bailed me out when I needed it, kept quiet when I didn’t and never got annoyed with my performance.

In retrospect I learned a lot from the flight. I learned there is no substitute for actually flying IFR. I learned I need to practice the basics of instrument flight. I learned that an IFR flight is not something you can just plan in advance like a VFR flight. Somehow you have to have a general plan but still have the overall situational awareness to deal with the enroute changes from ATC. I learned I need to practice reading the GPS and picturing my location in relation to the waypoint.

I have a very long way to go….

Gary

"Wrong" Way Takeoff

Technically there is no "wrong" direction to take off at a non-towered airport. A pilot has the legal right to take off upwind, downwind and even against the flow of traffic in the pattern.

Still - I was trying to land at Lampson Field (1O2) yesterday. This small airport was extremely busy, for some unknown reason, when Linda and I arrived.

There were two aircraft practicing manoeuvers just a few miles from the pattern (why not move a little farther away??), two in the pattern doing touch and go's - and us entering on a 45. The frequency was even more congested because of 3 other airports with the same frequency all coming in loud and clear.

So, one of the t&g's announces he's departing the pattern and another is turning crosswind for downwind and I'm turning downwind - and I hear another take-off call.

Only I had a serious "perception" problem at this first call because it didn't register that this guy was planning on taking the runway opposite to the three aircraft now in the pattern.

So, I do my pre-landing checklist and start my turn to base - and my wife says - there's a guy taking off on "ten" (not "one zero"). I'm concentrating on the descent and at first I don't get what she's saying - because I've been trained to ignore distractions at this phase of the flight.

"What?", I ask?

"There's a guy taking off on ten".

Another second or two guys by while I try to figure out what she means? "Ten?", "What?".

"There's a guy taking off in the opposite direction right towards us", she says quite calmly. And yes, she is an awesome co-pilot!

I never saw him but I immediately turned away and flew out over the lake.

Yes, the "wrong way" pilot had a legal right to take off on the runway opposite of the flow of traffic. Likewise, I have a right to call him a ___hole for doing it. There was no reason to do this other than his own convenience. He saved maybe two minutes of flight time. Yet, he most definitely created a safety hazard for the other aircraft in the pattern.

At the same time, I made a serious mistake that almost almost became a link in an accident chain. I did not listen carefully and comprehend the departing pilots radio call. I heard what I expected to hear and not what he was actually saying.

So here's what I learned from this:

- I must listen carefully to every radio call (yeah, I know its painfully obvious). The point is NOT to listen for what you expect to hear - listen very carefully to what is actually being said. (Also obvious, but I'm trying to reinforce and remember this experience, ok?)

- I explained to my wife and awesome co-pilot that it would help me in the future if she would call out runways as "one zero" and not "ten". For whatever reason the "ten" didn't immediately click in my brain but I think the "one-zero" would have.

- no matter how busy the pattern is, always assume some ___hole is going to exercise his right to take off in the opposite direction.

Even after twenty years, every flight is a learning experience.

My First Instrument Approach

I was nervous, excited and certain of failure.

It’s just not possible that I could takeoff, immediately put foggles on, fly around for an hour using only basic steam gauges and then end up lined up with the runway at two hundred feet above the ground. Somewhere along the way I was going to get thoroughly confused, mentally over-loaded and totally frustrated.

Eighteen months ago I received my King Instrument Rating Knowledge Test CD Course in the mail. I was determined to plow right through it so that I could begin my instrument flight training.

It was June of 2008 and I figured it would take two months to study and take the test. Surely, I’d be practicing instrument approaches by August?

One delay seemed to lead to another.

A crashed computer lost my place in the King Course right before I was to get the sign-off. This required me to start the whole program over. Are you kidding me? Apparently not, and I spend the next two months re-doing the CD course.

I pass the written IR exam by October 2008.

Finally, I’m going to start my instrument flight training! I’ll be doing instrument approaches like a pro in no time!

I had two lessons of basic instrument maneuvers when the vacuum pump on my Cessna Cardinal decided to take a dump. Are you kidding me?

This happens about a month before the plane was due for an engine over-haul. Four months and a billion dollars latter, I’m ready to start training again, right?

Nope – you see, dear Gary, there’s this thing called the “break-in period”. The fairy godmother of Lycoming engines requires special treatment of its newborn baby for the first 30 hours of flight. Ergo – no flight training. Let’s see, 30 hours divided by 5 hours per month equals – are you kidding me?

Finally, yesterday, 18 months after the journey began, I am going to do my first instrument approach.

“We’ll fly the FREES 6 departure, do some holds, then direct to Point Reyes where we’ll do the transition to the ILS 32 at Santa Rosa,” says my flight instructor.

“Ok,” I say. I’m thinking I’ll be lucky to remember to close the cowl flaps. Then the what? And then the what? Are you kidding me?

I know things are not going to go well when I’m cleared for takeoff, push my mic button, open my mouth – and absolutely nothing comes out. Bloody hell, I’m not even on the runway and I’m already experiencing mental vapor lock. Are you kidding me?

“34777 cleared for take-off,” says my flight instructor, bailing me out. That didn’t really just happen, did it? I’m not some rookie; I’ve been flying for twenty years for Pete’s sake!

Somehow I manage to get the Cardinal off the ground without scraping a wing. Like the true professional that I am, at 600 feet I call out, “Post take-off checklist, positive rate, gauges in the green, flaps up, cowl flaps closed.”

That ought to impress my CFII, I’m thinking.

“Do you always close the cowl flaps during the climb?” Mr. Knowitall asks.
“Uh, no. Cowl flaps open,” I call out lamely.

I managed to find the FREES 6 intersection and arrived at the, approximately correct, altitude of 3500 feet. The wind was gusting and we were bouncing around quite a bit. I wouldn’t be maintaining plus or minus 100 feet today. I tried to focus on just the instruments I needed for each maneuver, but it wasn’t easy. I kept wanting to look at ALL the instruments and the added scan time was causing the course and altitude to drift. Still I felt in reasonable, if not precise, control.

“Brain function? Check!”. So far, I thought, but we still had a long way to go.

We did three holds at FREES which I was not prepared for. I had practiced the departure procedure and the ILS 32 approach on MS Flight Simulator many times and felt I had a grasp of them. Holding patterns, not so much. With lots of prompting from my CFII, I managed to complete three somewhat respectable circuits of the holding pattern.

“Cardinal 34777, proceed direct Point Reyes, maintain 3500,” says the CFII.
“Direct Point Reyes, maintain three thousand five hundred, 34777,” I say in my best Chuck Yeager voice.

A few minutes later we reach PYE and make the turn to 010. It is now 16.4 nautical miles to LUSEE, the initial approach fix. Now I’m getting excited! After all these months I am finally going to fly an instrument approach!

“Deep breaths,” I tell myself.
“Cardinal 34777, say altitude,” pipes up Mr. Knowitall.
Crap! I’m 200 feet high.
“Descending to three thousand five hundred, 34777,” says I. At least I didn’t say “thirty-five hundred”. I’m wondering if the FAA check ride dude gives bonus points for correct phraseology?

It took about twelve hours to intersect the localizer at LUSEE. Finally, the needle starts to twitch. Or did it? Then it twitches again. Then – yep, it’s actually moving!

As the needle centers I – turn to 321 degrees and remember the five T’s. Time (nothing to time here), Twist (and promptly forgot to set NAV 2 for the missed approach), Throttle (what was that setting again?) and Talk (“Holy crap, I’m on a localizer!).

My instructor cancels flight following and calls the tower for me. I totally could have done this myself – ok, I couldn’t. Isn’t there something in the FARS about not having to talk on the radio when on an ILS in a red Cardinal?

The next few minutes were somewhat of a blur. The ILS needles were like one of those computer screen games where you try to click on something but no matter how quick you are, it constantly moves away. Everywhere I went, the needles went somewhere else.

“Jeezus, what’s that noise?“ I yell.
“That would be the outer marker,” says CFII.
“Oh, yeah, I knew that. Just testing you,” I say. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t buying it.
“Fly the needles,” says CFII
“500 for 322”, I say. Then I realize how close we are to the ground and I can’t see a thing. I hope I don’t crash on my first instrument approach.
“400 for 322”
“322”
“Take off the foggles,” says the CFII.

And right there is the runway!

Ok, IF you define “right there” as being twenty-five yards to the right with the runway threshold passing under the wingtip. It was the first time I have ever needed all five thousand feet of runway 32.

I landed so long the tower says, “34777 make a 180 on the runway back to the last turn-off.”

I park the plane after a 3½ hour flight. I then check Hobbs meter and it reads – 1.0.

Are you kidding me?

Gary