.
You see, Aircraft Engineers fall into two categories: There are those who happen to live near an airport and who want a decent job and then there are those who want to be in aviation. I fell into the latter and as I thought I wasn’t academic enough to be a pilot, I became an Engineer; which was probably a bit of an odd choice considering my worst subjects at school were maths, physics and metalwork! But with a target to aim for, I studied year after year, becoming a technicianin the Air Force and afterwards in civilian life, gaining all the CAA Engineering qualifications applicable to my trade, finally passing the last one on the 14 th of June 2001. The next day, at the age of almost forty one, I took my first flying lesson at Mid-Anglia School of Flying . By April of the following year, I had a PPL and by the spring of 2003, I had passed the first half of the ATPL written exams. Now was the time to build the flying hours in preparation for a Commercial Licence and for this, I chose to travel to Naples in Florida and spend four glorious weeks of self indulgence.
Flying in Florida
By Richard Martin
From Miami, I took a hire car and headed West, along an impossibly straight road that cuts across the Everglades to Naples on the Gulf Coast. At Miami, I had noticed CB`s beginning to build and as I drove towards the setting sun I could see the biggest, darkest storm clouds ahead. A lone Cessna flew past, heading east as fast as his Lycoming would allow and the sky began a symphony of light and sound. I had entered the Mother of all Storms.
I was tempted to stop and try and video this impressive display of nature, but there are few stopping places in the Everglades. Just as well really.I was surrounded by a swamp full of nasty beasts like a scene from Jurassic Park, so I decided to keep going.
"And so it was that I got acquainted with
Cessna 948 Alpha Charlie"
.
The next morning shone as if nothing had happened and I wondered if this wasto be typical Florida flying weather. I had spent the night in a poor quality hotel, where the phone call home had cost more than the room and now I was keen to get cracking with the flying.
After an awful breakfast and wondering why everyone had told me how good the food in America was, I reported to Naples Air Center. An hour or so later, Iwas making my first radio call for taxi clearance.
A few weeks previous, having spent months preparing the trip and getting a training visa sorted, I received an email from NAC informing me that, due to local insurance reasons, I could no longer go there. After much panic and confusion, it turned out that hours building pilots could still attend. This worked in my favour as I was the only pilot there and as such,
I had the fleet to myself! No need to fight for a booking, I was given my own aircraft for four weeks.What a result! And so it was that I got acquainted with Cessna 948 Alpha Charlie.
It was a requirement by the flight centre that pilots are checked out before being let loose on their own. It was a credit to the quality of my training at Cambridge that I was cleared after only a one hour flight. But, before I could go solo in the USA, I needed a Temporary Airmen`s Certificate and mine was waiting for me in the FAA office in Miami. `Did I need to drive back across the Everglades?` I enquired. `No way! This is America. Lets fly!`
Okay, so here was the situation. I had a PPL with 52 hours total time. I had just flown a one hour check flight and now I was going to fly under IFR rules and do a vectored approach into Miami International Airport in a Cessna 150! Fortunately,
I couldn’t do the flight unsupervised and my check flight instructor would talk me through it. Phew!
Apparently, it is unusual for the weather in Florida to be anything less than perfectly clear, but I seemed to have brought the weather with me andwe took off with the cloud base down to 800 feet. I knew what theweather conditions were because a friendly voice on the phone hadtold me. In America, they employ people to answer the phone and tell pilots whether they should fly or not. No need to decipher the TAFs and METARs. Just pick up the phone and a professional does it foryou. Great!
My Instructor handled the radio and supplied me with heights and headings and wetrudged our way across to Miami. The cloud quickly broke as we wentinland and by the time we reached the East coast, the sky was blue and Miami International could be clearly seen. We switched frequencies to Miami approach and the controller began slotting us into the approach traffic. I could hear pilots from major airline scalling with their `heavy` call signs and here we were being provided the same service as if this is quite normal. I was soon to learn that this was indeed quite normal. In America, all aircraft are considered equal and as I approached on the right hand runway, I could see a 747 overtaking us to land on the left parallel runway. Imagine doing this at Heathrow! No chance.
We taxied intothe Signature FBO (Flight Briefing Office) and were treated asif we had flown in on one of the executive jets that surrounded us.This was also normal behaviour in the States. The staff at the FBOhave no idea who you are and therefore treat you as a VIP. Many agood customer flies around the States in their own light aircraft, sothey can never be sure how important a customer is. Mind you, judgingby the battered state of my well worn training aircraft, they couldhave been forgiven if they dropped their standards just this once.
Here, I hadto pay an $80 handling charge. It was the one and only time I had to pay to land anywhere and at least they supplied a free buffet and drinks, so I couldn’t complain. And, by the time I left, I had the FAA clearance to fly solo in their airspace. Let the fun begin.
The next day,after rejecting my aircraft for failing the mag check, I departedNaples and headed alone down the coast to Everglades City airfield.This runway was to become one of my favourites, as it is built on apeninsular and as such, has water at both thresholds. It’s likelanding on an aircraft carrier! Apparently, many an aircraft has gonearound due to alligators on the runway, but for me, the only dangeris the crosswind. I landed with no problem though.
During my timein Florida, I quickly realised the importance of everything I wastaught at Cambridge. Flying over the Everglades, my navigation neededto be spot on. Landing and taking off from short runways needed theright technique. (Not all runways in the States are a mile long!) Theweather was rarely textbook Florida weather and I frequently flew instrong crosswinds, or poor visibility.
I have often heard of PPL`s who learned to fly in America not being able to dealwith flying in the UK on their return, but my training was such thatI was able to cope with flying in America straight off. Now, as I saton the ground in Everglades City, I needed two techniques from thattraining. It’s a short runway, (with water for a stopway) and thereis a howling crosswind. Only two weeksprevious, a Cessna from the Air Center had gone into the water at theend. The aircraft was a write off, but both the student andinstructor swam away. Fortunately for them, the alligators were on a`man-free` diet at the time.
With bothDigby and Arwyn`s voices still clear in my head, I powered up on thebrakes with the controls into wind and went for it. I needn’t haveworried. The little Cessna, with only me to carry, leapt off theground in half the distance available and I was safely in the air.
A few dayslater however, the same safe departure did not occur. I had leftNaples, having planned a route to Key West. This time though, I had apassenger in the form of an English pilot whose size was bettersuited to the more spacious aircraft types.
I had fuelled the aircraft to full tanks and did not do any kind of weight and balance check. Nevertheless, it took off eventually and we climbed slowly away to the South.
My passenger had declined my offer to get involved with the planning of the route,which I thought was a bit odd. During the flight he fiddled with a hand held GPS and mumbled something about satellite problems. I felt a bit under equipped with just my map, compass and a stopwatch. Ohwell, at least I knew where we were.
As Everglades City approached, I couldn’t resist a touch and go. After all, there are no landing fees. My approach was a bit erratic I must admit. It must have been all that extra weight. Into the flare and I remember Digby telling me that runway behind is of no use. There did seem tobe more runway behind me than I would have liked, but what the heck,we were down. Power up and watch the speed increase – slowly. Eyes up the runway, but not much of it left to look at. Decision time.Keep going. I eased the column back just as water replaced concreteand we climbed painfully slowly. I knew something wasn’t right and as I looked inside the cockpit I saw the carb heat lever still onwarm. Nice one Richard. In Florida, there is no need to use carb heat, but I elected to keep using it to stay in the habit. But here I was, in an overweight aircraft in warm,low density air and I was underpowered! Lesson learned.
As it turned out, we didn’t make it to Key West that day. We flew across the Everglades, dropping down to 500 feet to make the nav a bit more sporting. There isn’t much to navigate across the `Glades and atheight it’s too easy as the coast is always visible. Those who have never flown there are surprised to hear that light aircraft regularly fly over it, but there’s not much to it really. There are only a few landmarks and I was aiming for a water pumping station down South. It turned out to be more of a water pumping garden shed with a single road leading to it. I wondered what on Earth it was for.
We flew outover the turquoise blue water and across the bay to the Keys. Turning right, I headed down the Keys to an airfield called Marathon and decided to land for lunch. As soon as I parked up a man drove out ona golf buggy and welcomed us with ice cold drinks which he pulled out from an ice box and offered us a lift to the office. Once there, a taxi was ordered and we were driven off to a nearby waterside restaurant. What service. I could see I was going to like America.
Sitting at thetable in the open air restaurant, I watched the power boats and jetskis and pondered on my journey. I had just flown myself and mypassenger safely across the Everglades and down the coast of theFlorida Keys. It seemed only a short time ago that I couldn’t evenfly a plane. I felt pretty pleased with myself at that moment.
To get to Key West should be a simple matter of continuing down the Keys to the end, but since 9/11 the US military are a bit jumpy about aircraft flying over their air bases. The marines have an airfield between Marathon and Key West and as such, they route aircraft out to sea and dogleg around them. The danger with this scenario is that the sea and the sky in that part of the world are exactly the same shade of blue and with hazy visibility it is impossible to separate the two.Add to this the fact that the water is so clear that the exact surface of the water is difficult to make out unless it has a boat on it and there is a potential for disaster. I felt on this occasion that I lacked the experience to deal with the conditions and made the decision to return to Naples.
I would return to Key West a week or so later when the visibility was better and it waswell worth the visit, if only to sample the delights of Key Lime Pie!
The following week I had made arrangements with Arwyn Jones to meet up with him as he stopped over on one of his British Airways flights. We had arranged to meet at Opa Locka airfield, which is a huge parallel runway airport next to Miami. I thought I had better familiarise myself with the area and headed off across to the East coast.
The easiest navigation would have been to follow the road across the Everglades and then head to the field. I decided that was too straightforward and set course direct. Unfortunately I drifted too far south andended up being a nuisance to the controllers as I closed in on Miami International. Fortunately they are very tolerable and used to such occurrences and politely offered me a radar vector, which I gladly accepted.
As it turned out, my planned meet with Arwyn didn’t happen due to another whopping great storm causing him to divert his 747. What a shame. Itwould have been great fun to have flown in Florida with one of my PPL instructors.
The next couple of weeks were spent getting acquainted with all the local airfields and enjoying practicing circuits in the knowledge that itdidn’t cost a cent to land. On one occasion, I returned to Naples to find the circuit was packed with aircraft. In America, air traffic controllers play by a different set of rules to their British counterparts. Radio transmissions are fast and blunt as aircraft are juggled into position and it is not uncommon to have aircraft on both a left and right hand circuit pattern at the same time. This was the situation that greeted me this day.
I was fed into the circuit and given clearance to land while still downwind! This amazed me at the time, especially as I was told I was number four,cleared to land! How on earth can I be cleared to land with three other aircraft ahead of me?
As I reached the base turn, I was asked if I was visual with a Cessna on finals. I looked down and saw a Cessna flying in over the numbers and replied that I was. `Good` said the controller, `You are clear to land after him`.
Now, I knew how busy the situation was, so I decided to do an early base turn andsideslip the aircraft in to get myself out of his hair as quickly aspossible. No sooner had I done so, than an aircraft called up to announce that I had cut in front of him. He was the number one to land and not the aircraft I saw landing!
As soon as I landed I was asked to phone the tower, which I dutifully did. But I was in no mood for a ticking off as I felt that they were insane to give clearances while the runway was still occupied. Fortunately, the controller saw my point and backed off. After this incident, the tower recognised my voice and I always got good service.
By the third week, I was getting a bit bored with local flying and had visited every airfield for miles around. Fortunately for me, another British pilot had arrived and he already possessed an FAA commercial licence with an instrument rating. That meant he could legally fly across to the Bahamas and I was asked if I would like to share fly. I jumped at the chance and so, after filing the flight plan, we took off in a PA28 and headed east, climbing to 8500 feet for the sixty mile crossing.
We decided to track the ADF at an island called Walkers Cay (pronounced key)at the north of the Bahamas chain of islands. It wasn’t long over water before we could spot the island in the distance. Visibility was excellent and at that height we barely needed our navigation instruments. We began a cruise descent and eventually flew over the island at 500 feet.
Remaining at this low height, we skimmed over the beautiful islands and turquoise seas, looking with envy at the luxury houses below. Over water, we could clearly see sharks swimming. It was one of those incredible flights that make all the expense of flying worthwhile.
Later, welanded at Marsh Harbour, flying over the shattered remains of a twin engined aircraft that had recently crashed with a pop star on board,killing everyone.
That afternoon, having enjoyed a meal at yet another waterside restaurant,we went snorkelling amongst the coral and I picked up a piece of driftwood from the sea bed. It now sits on my unit in the living room as a reminder of a perfect day.
The following day was April 4 th ; my wife’s birthday. This time it was my turn to take the left seat and I was thrilled to fly low as we had done the day before. We left Marsh Harbour and flew to North Eleuthra. My companion had planned this trip and knew where he wanted to go. We went by boat from the airfield across to Harbour Island,which had a gorgeous pink sand beach. I felt a twinge of guilt for being in such a lovely place on my wife’s birthday, so I gave her a birthday message on the video camera, before settling down to, (you guessed it), yet another waterside restaurant meal. Life can be so tough sometimes.
Twenty Four hours is not nearly long enough to spend in the Bahamas, so it waswith some reluctance that we set course for home. My companion had todo the over water leg of the journey IFR, but once we had arrived back in the USA and were cleared by customs, I flew the aircraft back to Naples. Tired, but very pleased.
The following week, I decided to fly further afield and planned a trip to New Orleans. I began by flying to the north of Florida and landed at another `aircraft carrier` type of runway known as Cedar Key. This must be the shortest runway in America and needed a full flap landing with positive braking.
I had plannedto spend the night here, but quickly decided that this was Deep South yokel country. The tourists don’t visit this part of Florida.
I walked into the nearby town for something to eat and noticed a lot of patriotic flags flying. The invasion of Iraq had just begun and at that time,only two or three American marines had been killed. I learned that one of the unfortunate young men came from this tiny fishing village in the far reaches of the Florida outback. The community were clearly in mourning and I felt out of place and decided to leave them to it.
I flew inland to a larger airfield with some decent facilities and parked up for the night. I was trying to save money and slept in the aircraft. If anyone tries to tell you that sleeping in a Cessna 150 is comfortable, then you are being lied to. It’s dreadful! Although the seats will lie almost flat, you have to sleep with your head towards the tail. This means that you are lying slightly downhill and you will wake up with numb feet and a pounding headache. Add to that the fact that it is sweltering hot and that opening the windows invites every bug for miles around for dinner and you can imagine how bad it is. I was sure that the lads back at Naples were probably having a good laugh at this idiot who took their advice.
The following day I noticed that the airfield was suddenly filling up with aircraft landing in a hurry and I walked in to the FBO to find a large group of pilots huddled around the weather briefing computer. Something was happening. Sure enough, the news was that bad weather was inbound across the pan handle. I phoned the weather briefer and was told not to progress to New Orleans. I would get there if I went, but I would end up stuck for five days. I needed to keep up a daily flying hours rate and couldn’t risk it. I would return to Naples.
But the weather was already worsening in this part of Florida. I had to get out now and head south to the better weather. I took off in lowering cloud and headed south west to the coast. Florida is flat, but is bristling with tall radio masts which dictate the MSA. I couldn’t get high enough and knew I was at risk flying this low. My chart showed that this area was clear of masts and thankfully, I knew whereI was. But the pressure was on.
I began to think of aborting and returning to the field, but thankfully the cloud base began to lift as I approached the coast and I breathed a sigh of relief. Soon, I was back to blue skies and tension free flying. I now faced a very long and boring flight back down the coastto Naples.
My last few days in Florida were spent practising strong crosswind landings as the tail of the New Orleans storm whipped through. I imagined Trevor having a fit at the thought of someone flying his aeroplanes in these conditions, but NAC thought nothing of it. They were probably hoping to get a favourable insurance claim. Nevertheless, I would taxi outwith the palm trees billowing and go up and practise. After experiencing one or two full aileron deflection corrections though, I decided to take a day off from flying.
My final cross country navigation exercise was a bit of a disappointment, but a goodl earning experience. I had spent the last three weeks flying to andf rom concrete runways and had got into the habit of looking for them.On this occasion I headed for an airfield called Homestead, which is in the south east of Florida.
I had been in radio contact with a Miami controller as I crossed the `Glades and had informed him of my destination. As usual, crossing a wilderness without any ground references caused me some problems and as the calculated time passed I scanned the area for a concrete runway.Nothing could be seen.
`Nine FourEight Alpha Charlie, confirm your destination is Homestead` Asked my controller. I confirmed that it was and again I was offered a radar vector. How annoying. I had flown almost ninety hours over the last few weeks and felt confident that this last trip would be abreeze, but I simply couldn’t see this damned runway.
`Nine Four Eight Alpha Charlie, can you see Homestead now? It’s straight ahead of you`. But I could not see a single patch of concrete.
As I was about to key the transmit button I looked down to my left and saw a single black runway pass beneath my wing. Black! I had learned another lesson and this time it was Human Factors. A person will only see what they expect to see. I had just flown over the only black runway in Florida, but I wasn’t looking for a black runway and I simply couldn’t see it until I noticed the numbers on the threshold. And even then, it took a second to register!
Later that day, I taxied into Naples Air Center for the last time, glad that I hadn’t broken anything or caused any kind of incident. I had flown ninety hours in four weeks, dealing with controlled airspace and congested circuit patterns. I had navigated my way across the Everglades and up and down the length of Florida. I had landed on International airport runways that dwarfed my tiny plane and runways that were barely long enough to stop in. I had flown in a country that embraces aviation in a way we can only envy. And I had enjoyed every minute of it .
and has flown 1000 hours