"Aviate, navigate, communicate"

Flying Safety, July, 2002 by Daniel Hayenga

I am your typical military pilot--I joined the military not to become a general, but to become a pilot. And like any professional pilot, I learn from my mistakes and try to learn from the mistakes of others. There are a few times in my career that I can say I learned something that will carry me the rest of my life. But my biggest lessons came when I wasn't flying for Uncle Sam.

In the month before Thanksgiving 2000, I went to San Antonio, Texas, to get a single-engine rating added to my civilian license. This included a few flights in a Cessna 172 and a quick checkride. Then, for insurance reasons, I did an instrument checkout in a simulator. Now, I have about 2000 hours; 750 in a KC-135, 900 as a T-38 instructor and ten in a Cessna 172. I was ready for a cross-country.

My trip was planned from San Antonio to the northeast corner of Arkansas, with a fuel stop in Texarkana, Ark., on Thanksgiving Day. The forecast called for ceilings 800-1000 feet with the tops at 6000 MSL, increasing to approximately 8000 MSL on our route, and no hazards forecast. I planned to climb to 9000 feet and cruise the whole way with no problems. My stopover had marginal VFR in the forecast, so I expected my final vectors to be in the clear. Even with my limited experience, I was not worried about VOR approaches with ceilings that high.

The first hour and a half went as planned. The family was asleep and I was getting to enjoy my one true passion outside my family-flying. But as we flew to within 100 miles of Texarkana, I saw a building cumulus directly in our line at 20,000-ish feet and climbing. Now using good CRM, I started asking Houston Center and Flight Service if they were painting any weather in our line. The most they were showing was light rain showers. To complicate things, the sloping cloud deck beneath us was higher than expected. About 30 miles before we hit the cumulus, we went IMC. Lesson 1.

I continued to ask in vain for information from Flight Service and Center. Center asked if I could take a higher altitude in an attempt to get VMC, but after looking at my outside air temperature (34[degrees] F) and the droplets of rain on the windshield, I decided against it.

Decision Time: Do I go through the "light rain," or do I divert? One look at my precious cargo, and my decision was made.

I started to revert to habit patterns from military flying, which would both save me and cause me problems. I looked at the chart and found my nearest suitable alternate where I knew I could get lodging and fuel was Dallas Love, and I requested a vector direct. I started the turn with the airplane trimmed and looked down to pick up an approach plate. When I looked up, I had overturned the heading by 60 degrees. Lesson 2.

Now for some added stress: We were getting bounced around pretty good. My one-year-old son was crying and not looking so good. My daughter, four years old, was getting antsy and complaining about feeling sick. My wife was alternately paranoid about the turbulence and my children throwing up, and telling me in no uncertain terms that she was not enjoying this "great idea" of mine.

For the next hour, I was trying to put this little airplane on the ground safely. When we finally arrived at Dallas, the weather was 500 feet and one mile visibility. I did my first ILS in a non-military plane that has an instrument crosscheck like a T-37, and had a rough time of it. If the airplane didn't move so slowly, I don't think I would have made it on the first try. Lesson 3.

When we landed, it was raining hard. I pulled into the closest FBO and quickly worked to get the family unloaded and into a warm, dry building. Then when I was finished with them, I took care of myself. I told them I had to go to the bathroom and excused myself. I stood in the bathroom for ten minutes trying to calm myself down. I was literally shaking and had to wash my face a couple of times to stop sweating. That was without a doubt the worst flight of my life, and all because I got target fixation. I was flying into challenging weather in an unfamiliar airplane...and I was carrying my children, who were just going to see their grandparents.

Like I said earlier, the lessons I learned on that flight will last a lifetime, and I am pretty sure I can take them anywhere.

The first has to do with my expectation of changing weather on a flight. The typical sortie in a T-38 is around one hour. My flight that day was going to be over three hours. A lot can change with the weather in three hours. I found out that the amended forecast (after I took off) called for light to moderate rain showers along my route, which covered Arkansas and Louisiana, with tops around 25,000 feet. We were seeing the beginnings of that build-up. Checking the weather more often while airborne will make your trip a smoother one. I have become a firm believer in "go ugly early;" it means you land with more gas and more options.

The second lesson is that habit patterns from one airplane don't always transfer to another. When I looked down to pick up that chart, my internal clock was based on T-38 time. The turn rate in a 172 is significantly faster than I am used to for a 30-degree turn. Re-hack the internal clock in a new airplane. Perform tasks not directly related with aviating when you are stable in level flight. The order is "aviate, navigate, communicate" for a reason.