Patterns
One of the things about flying out of a non-towered field is it teaches you about the importance of traffic patterns. Most things go right, but a few go wrong.
At Pearland, the main runway is One-Four/Three-Two. The no-wind runway is 14, and it is also the prevailing wind and no-wind runway. Just rebuilt a year or two ago, it is in great shape. It's forty-three hundred and thirteen feet long and seventy-five feet wide. The pattern altitude is at 1044 feet MSL. The pattern direction for both runways is left.
About a week ago, the Cheetah and I lifted off about a hour before sunset. The winds were coming from 040 at about eight knots, so I elected to take off on runway 32. I climbed us up to fifteen hundred feet by the time I hit downwind, and announced over the radio my intention to cut across the southern end of the airport heading east southeast. I did so, holding that altitude to stay below the Class B airspace above me at 2000 feet. The airplane and I gained speed, cutting across the southern end of Friendswood's homes and malls, slicing the slim sliver that was actually Interstate 45, and cruising past the large open campus and squat buildings of Johnson Space Center. We made our way closer to the shoreline and flat water of Galveston Bay; and as we got there, I banked right, reversing course, and descended a couple of hundred feet to be out of the way of other airborne travelers still heading east. Over the radios, I heard Houston Approach assigning a squawk to another single-engine Grumman leaving Galveston's airport and heading for Hobby as I watched my engine oil temperatures respond to a newly mounted oil cooler.
As I approached I-45 for the second time, I could already see the small, open expanse of Pearland's airport just to the right of my nose. I listened to Houston Approach until my GPS showed me about five miles out of the airport when, after a brief listen to Pearland's automated weather broadcast, I switched to the airport's Common Traffic Advisory Frequency of 122.80. I announced my position at “4.5 miles southeast” and stated I was “on a forty-five degree entry to the upwind for runway 32”. The winds were out of 050, with some swings back to 040. A few seconds later, I heard a Cessna pilot call he was “four miles southeast” and setting up for entering left downwind runway 14. My GPS was showing my distance at 3.8,; so, I started a rapid search and almost immediately picked him up at my nine o'clock, about two hundred feet below, and about a quarter mile away. We were both angling for the same spot, so I throttled back a bit to keep him where I could see him. As I did, the Cessna pilot called for the “other aircraft at four miles” and asked if I was landing 32. I confirmed I was because the winds were coming out of zero-four-zero to zero five zero. I then proceeded to try to tell him I had him in sight and he was at my right, nine o clock, uh, left nine o clock, something which really only confused both of us. (The only helpful thing to tell him was that I was at his right four o' clock so he would have known where to look for me, which he never did though I had to be plainly visible. If I'd gotten much closer, my next call would have been, “GUNS!GUNS!GUNS!”)
The Cessna was in a perfect position to simply continue upwind and then cross the field for a left downwind for 32. Instead, he radioed he was departing the pattern to come back in for a left downwind 32, banked right toward me, to which I responded by banking left to cross behind him. As he angled out to the east toward Ellington field's airspace, I simply pulled into a upwind for 32, surveyed the traffic, crossed mid-field (after announcing it on CTAF), and then pulled into a left downwind without a sweat.
The guy was taking the Airman's Information Manual depiction of a traffic pattern a little too seriously.
It's fairly common for me to fly to the east and southeast and return to Pearland from that direction. Like my Cessna friend, when the field was using runway 32, I used to cross a mile or two south of the field, fly a mile or two west, and then turn back for a 45 degree entry into left downwind. I can't tell you how many times doing so put me right in the path of pilots running ultra-long downwinds on 32 or traffic departing Pearland heading east or southeast. It's probably been less than six months since I realized that a 32 upwind entry was much safer, even if uncommon. Flying to the upwind allows me to easily plan a 45 degree entry into the pattern, gives me time while flying upwind to scope out all the downwind traffic, avoids all departing traffic as well as traffic in a “stretched pattern”, and eliminates any potential impact with a 1200 radio tower just south and west of the field. (Of course, the tower is something to consider when on downwind for 32, but that's a whole 'nuther story.) In more cases than not, it also helps me keep my pattern tight, which I like not only so I can glide to a landing if my engine fails but because we have Class B airspace Surface to 10 Thousand two miles to the north.
(While I'm talking about “stretched patterns”, somebody tell me why it's so acceptable anymore for there to be so many B-152 pilots!!! These are pilots who fly their Cessna 152's like they were B-52's in the pattern, turning base leg miles away from the field when they are barely in sight and long past making the runway at idle power. My latest encounter with one was with a Cessna 152 with a private pilot student and instructor. The airplane's radio wasn't working worth a crap and it was impossible to tell what they were saying and I would have missed seeing them in the pattern except I knew they were there! Yes, I've heard the argument that modern powerplants are so reliable true engine failures don't happen much anymore, but I don't buy that. I personally missed one by less than five minutes (the next rental pilot suffered it on takeoff after I had taken the airplane back with no symptoms) about two years ago and there have been two or three others at the airfield in the last few years. The “engine failure” argument aside, stringing out your pattern forces everyone else to string out; with only three or four airplanes in the pattern ,a “stretched pattern” can easily cover three,four, or five miles. That's too big an area to expect any pilot to see you in and avoid.)
Approaching the pattern recently a late Thursday evening, I was returning in the Cheetah from a short flight while my wife sat doing some reading back at our tiedown spot. The sky was turning dark as I listened to Pearland’s CTAF for quite a while but heard no one. The winds were calm, so I entered a left downwind for runway 14. The runway lights were already up (That needed to have made me suspicious.). I didn’t see anyone else in the pattern but I called "entering left base" over the radios anyway. As I worked my approach, I noticed a set of red and green lights sliding TOWARD me inside the two rows of runway lights. When I rolled out on final, I realized I had another airplane headed down the runway right into my face!
Immediately, I added power for a go-around, leveling off at about two hundred feet, sidestepping a bit right, and I flew over the opposing Cessna whose landing light came on as I crossed over him. I called the wave off over the radios and then came around the pattern again. The opposing airplane had pulled off the runway and was just sitting there past the hold short line, nose still pointed off the runway. As I went by them and touched down, I glanced right to see if I knew who it was. I did. It was Tap (not his real name to protect the guilty). He owned an old Cessna 150 hangered two spaces west of mine.
I taxied the Cheetah back to her parking space to find Tap and our his co-pilot, our next-door-hangar -mate sitting inside the latter’s camper trailer parked beside his airplane. I knew the two of them had been flying the Cessna and was curious if they’d come out to discuss the incident. Frankly, I just wanted to understand what had happened and not assign blame, but they must have thought otherwise. They stayed in the trailer and never came out. Connie and I both felt like they were hiding.
In talking to Connie, I discovered that they were on their second touch and go after entering the pattern for 32 directly from the south or from a left base. I had reason to believe they were flying no-radio, as I had seen them working on it the night before. That would explain why I never heard any calls from them and they apparently heard none from me. Connie said they had touched down past the mid-point of the runway and added power to go around again but aborted either because they saw me or because they realized they didn’t have enough runway left to get airborne. I suspect it was because they saw me swing onto final with my landing light on. The “very-far-down-the runway” touchdown explained why they didn’t hussle off the runway and continued down the full length of it despite opposing traffic. I still didn’t know why I hadn’t seen them on the downwind side of the runway, but it wouldn’t surprise me to find out they didn’t run a full pattern and hadn’t come all the way up to pattern altitude. Regardless, all I could correct was my own scan; and I vowed to do a better job of scanning the opposing side of the runway for traffic and look both high and low, even if the prevailing winds and runway laid in the other direction.
At Pearland, the main runway is One-Four/Three-Two. The no-wind runway is 14, and it is also the prevailing wind and no-wind runway. Just rebuilt a year or two ago, it is in great shape. It's forty-three hundred and thirteen feet long and seventy-five feet wide. The pattern altitude is at 1044 feet MSL. The pattern direction for both runways is left.
About a week ago, the Cheetah and I lifted off about a hour before sunset. The winds were coming from 040 at about eight knots, so I elected to take off on runway 32. I climbed us up to fifteen hundred feet by the time I hit downwind, and announced over the radio my intention to cut across the southern end of the airport heading east southeast. I did so, holding that altitude to stay below the Class B airspace above me at 2000 feet. The airplane and I gained speed, cutting across the southern end of Friendswood's homes and malls, slicing the slim sliver that was actually Interstate 45, and cruising past the large open campus and squat buildings of Johnson Space Center. We made our way closer to the shoreline and flat water of Galveston Bay; and as we got there, I banked right, reversing course, and descended a couple of hundred feet to be out of the way of other airborne travelers still heading east. Over the radios, I heard Houston Approach assigning a squawk to another single-engine Grumman leaving Galveston's airport and heading for Hobby as I watched my engine oil temperatures respond to a newly mounted oil cooler.
As I approached I-45 for the second time, I could already see the small, open expanse of Pearland's airport just to the right of my nose. I listened to Houston Approach until my GPS showed me about five miles out of the airport when, after a brief listen to Pearland's automated weather broadcast, I switched to the airport's Common Traffic Advisory Frequency of 122.80. I announced my position at “4.5 miles southeast” and stated I was “on a forty-five degree entry to the upwind for runway 32”. The winds were out of 050, with some swings back to 040. A few seconds later, I heard a Cessna pilot call he was “four miles southeast” and setting up for entering left downwind runway 14. My GPS was showing my distance at 3.8,; so, I started a rapid search and almost immediately picked him up at my nine o'clock, about two hundred feet below, and about a quarter mile away. We were both angling for the same spot, so I throttled back a bit to keep him where I could see him. As I did, the Cessna pilot called for the “other aircraft at four miles” and asked if I was landing 32. I confirmed I was because the winds were coming out of zero-four-zero to zero five zero. I then proceeded to try to tell him I had him in sight and he was at my right, nine o clock, uh, left nine o clock, something which really only confused both of us. (The only helpful thing to tell him was that I was at his right four o' clock so he would have known where to look for me, which he never did though I had to be plainly visible. If I'd gotten much closer, my next call would have been, “GUNS!GUNS!GUNS!”)
The Cessna was in a perfect position to simply continue upwind and then cross the field for a left downwind for 32. Instead, he radioed he was departing the pattern to come back in for a left downwind 32, banked right toward me, to which I responded by banking left to cross behind him. As he angled out to the east toward Ellington field's airspace, I simply pulled into a upwind for 32, surveyed the traffic, crossed mid-field (after announcing it on CTAF), and then pulled into a left downwind without a sweat.
The guy was taking the Airman's Information Manual depiction of a traffic pattern a little too seriously.
It's fairly common for me to fly to the east and southeast and return to Pearland from that direction. Like my Cessna friend, when the field was using runway 32, I used to cross a mile or two south of the field, fly a mile or two west, and then turn back for a 45 degree entry into left downwind. I can't tell you how many times doing so put me right in the path of pilots running ultra-long downwinds on 32 or traffic departing Pearland heading east or southeast. It's probably been less than six months since I realized that a 32 upwind entry was much safer, even if uncommon. Flying to the upwind allows me to easily plan a 45 degree entry into the pattern, gives me time while flying upwind to scope out all the downwind traffic, avoids all departing traffic as well as traffic in a “stretched pattern”, and eliminates any potential impact with a 1200 radio tower just south and west of the field. (Of course, the tower is something to consider when on downwind for 32, but that's a whole 'nuther story.) In more cases than not, it also helps me keep my pattern tight, which I like not only so I can glide to a landing if my engine fails but because we have Class B airspace Surface to 10 Thousand two miles to the north.
(While I'm talking about “stretched patterns”, somebody tell me why it's so acceptable anymore for there to be so many B-152 pilots!!! These are pilots who fly their Cessna 152's like they were B-52's in the pattern, turning base leg miles away from the field when they are barely in sight and long past making the runway at idle power. My latest encounter with one was with a Cessna 152 with a private pilot student and instructor. The airplane's radio wasn't working worth a crap and it was impossible to tell what they were saying and I would have missed seeing them in the pattern except I knew they were there! Yes, I've heard the argument that modern powerplants are so reliable true engine failures don't happen much anymore, but I don't buy that. I personally missed one by less than five minutes (the next rental pilot suffered it on takeoff after I had taken the airplane back with no symptoms) about two years ago and there have been two or three others at the airfield in the last few years. The “engine failure” argument aside, stringing out your pattern forces everyone else to string out; with only three or four airplanes in the pattern ,a “stretched pattern” can easily cover three,four, or five miles. That's too big an area to expect any pilot to see you in and avoid.)
Approaching the pattern recently a late Thursday evening, I was returning in the Cheetah from a short flight while my wife sat doing some reading back at our tiedown spot. The sky was turning dark as I listened to Pearland’s CTAF for quite a while but heard no one. The winds were calm, so I entered a left downwind for runway 14. The runway lights were already up (That needed to have made me suspicious.). I didn’t see anyone else in the pattern but I called "entering left base" over the radios anyway. As I worked my approach, I noticed a set of red and green lights sliding TOWARD me inside the two rows of runway lights. When I rolled out on final, I realized I had another airplane headed down the runway right into my face!
Immediately, I added power for a go-around, leveling off at about two hundred feet, sidestepping a bit right, and I flew over the opposing Cessna whose landing light came on as I crossed over him. I called the wave off over the radios and then came around the pattern again. The opposing airplane had pulled off the runway and was just sitting there past the hold short line, nose still pointed off the runway. As I went by them and touched down, I glanced right to see if I knew who it was. I did. It was Tap (not his real name to protect the guilty). He owned an old Cessna 150 hangered two spaces west of mine.
I taxied the Cheetah back to her parking space to find Tap and our his co-pilot, our next-door-hangar -mate sitting inside the latter’s camper trailer parked beside his airplane. I knew the two of them had been flying the Cessna and was curious if they’d come out to discuss the incident. Frankly, I just wanted to understand what had happened and not assign blame, but they must have thought otherwise. They stayed in the trailer and never came out. Connie and I both felt like they were hiding.
In talking to Connie, I discovered that they were on their second touch and go after entering the pattern for 32 directly from the south or from a left base. I had reason to believe they were flying no-radio, as I had seen them working on it the night before. That would explain why I never heard any calls from them and they apparently heard none from me. Connie said they had touched down past the mid-point of the runway and added power to go around again but aborted either because they saw me or because they realized they didn’t have enough runway left to get airborne. I suspect it was because they saw me swing onto final with my landing light on. The “very-far-down-the runway” touchdown explained why they didn’t hussle off the runway and continued down the full length of it despite opposing traffic. I still didn’t know why I hadn’t seen them on the downwind side of the runway, but it wouldn’t surprise me to find out they didn’t run a full pattern and hadn’t come all the way up to pattern altitude. Regardless, all I could correct was my own scan; and I vowed to do a better job of scanning the opposing side of the runway for traffic and look both high and low, even if the prevailing winds and runway laid in the other direction.
posted by Andy Foster at 8:12 PM
1 Comments:
I'm a low time pilot who has done most of my flying in a rural area. I have always had significant apprehension about doing any flying at uncontrolled airports in or near large metropolitan areas. It just seems like a dangerous prospect. In theory the rules seem fine, but in practice no one really follows them. This is dangerous even if everyone does their best to scan the environment perfectly and everyone has radios that work. It seems perilous when you add in the factors you mention in your post. There was an accident that occured during my training that did nothing to ease my fear. Here is a link to the synopsis: http://www.ntsb.gov/ntsb/brief.asp?ev_id=20030826X01396&key=2
My fear may be overblown, because midair collisions seem to be a very rare cause of general aviation accidents but I just can't muster the courage to fly into uncontrolled airspace with a lot of traffic around. I would be interested to hear your comments about this.
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