In an unusual turn of events, I was sitting at home watching a movie…as the final, dramatic scenes of “The Scarlet Pimpernel” began playing on the screen the telephone rang. On the other end of the line was a proper-sounding British gentleman. “Ron, Roy Handley here, good day.” Roy is one of our Flight Club reporting members, he is also a former RAF pilot himself. He too is a fan of Lesley Howard but alas, I was watching the ‘80’s version of “Pimpernel” with Anthony Andrews and Jane Seymour. Roy was now working for the International Flight Simulation Investigation and Crash Committee (pronounced “If-Sick”) based in Liverpool. Seems Roy was being sent to investigate an incident, which had occurred in the real world, some years ago. He needed a pilot to fly while he conducted his investigation. “I know that you are the pilot who can get me through a situation such as this” he concluded. How could I refuse that? So while Roy headed off to Heathrow, I headed off to pack my bags.
Early the next morning I made my way back out to where the last FOTM had ended, McMinnville, Oregon. While waiting to board the Pacific Air 738 I contacted a Mr. Linde in Germany for more details on this investigation. Mr. Linde immediately e-mailed me the information you have now all received as well. While the information was all very scientific and not really anything new to me, I was immediately intrigued and anxious to get underway.
Our flight left on time and as we reached our cruising altitude the Captain made her P.A. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Chan. On behalf of myself, and my First Officer, Mr. Monk, we’d like to welcome you aboard Pacific Air flight 738 to Chicago’s Midway Airport.”
I used the seat-back phone to call “The Collector” in Venezuela to try and arrange a flight from Midway to Caldwell, New Jersey. Within 30 minutes he had arranged for a Peruvian pilot named “Brad” to meet me at Midway. I was immediately suspicious of a Peruvian named Brad – seems that a Paulo or Jose’ would be more appropriate.
The rest of the flight was uneventful and Captains Chan and Monk had us down safely at Chicago just before 13:30 local time. [Photo One] I made my way over to the arranged meeting area but Geraldo was nowhere around. I waited for a good 30 minutes, watching a man in blue coveralls bustle around the fuel truck…still no Juan Gomez to be seen. Strolling over to the man (his nametag said TONY) I asked him if he knew about the CRJ200 which was to meet me. Tony spent the next 10 minutes rattling off information about the aircraft type but obviously he knew nothing about Je’sus or my ride to Jersey.
I called Alejandro back and it seems that his pilot had gone to O’Hare by mistake. While I waited for Jorge, Tony offered me a seat in the “lounge”. There in the glass room was a single desk occupied by a hunched man rolling a set of dice. “That’s Bill” Tony explained. “That is Bill’s desk and you’d be well-advised to not sit there. Don’t put your coffee on the desk and don’t ask him what he’s doing or it’ll get ugly.” With that Tony left me, accompanied only by my paperwork, single duffle bag and the sound of dice being rolled across the desk. It seems that Bill was rolling the dice out, recording what numbers came up and then repeating the task. Next to him on the desk were binders of logs, his “data” from weeks, maybe months of research with these dice.
I wandered over to the coffee machine but it looked a bit grimy, so I passed on that offer, snacking instead on the one bag of mixed nuts left over from my morning flight. I looked out the water-stained windows to the aircraft beyond.
Suddenly the sound of dice-rolling stopped. I was almost frozen in fear. Then, Bill spoke. “G’Day Mite! You flyin’ somewores to-die?”
I turned slowly to see Bill staring at me from behind the desk. “Why yes,” I answered. “I’m heading off to the Cape Cod area for the month.”
“Ahhhh yes…” Bill answered reflectively. “I was there in July once. We took Continental Flight 348 from Newark at 10:30 AM. We departed from runway 22L. That MD 82 had 21,000 pounds of fuel on board. We used a 10degree flap setting for departure and made the climbing U-turn up over La Guardia. We had to go missed at Boston the first time because there was only 10 miles visibility, but we still managed to arrive on time at 11:45. ATIS said it was 76 degrees that day.”
“Oh!” was all I could say.
But Bill seemed to be more interested in the fact that he now had a somewhat captive audience. “On Sunday July 8th we left Boston in an A320 which was Air Canada flight 383. That aircraft’s registration was C-FDQQ. We only had 14,000 pound of fuel this time for the short flight to Montreal. Push back was at 11:05 AM and we set Nav1 for 112.70 before departing. It was just 30 minutes later that I was able to pickup the Montreal VOR on 116.30. I was able to hand-fly that one on finals!!”
While the conversation was riveting, I was glad to finally see Pedro taxiing up in the Flight Club’s CRJ. So I headed for the door. Bill started yelling after me, rising up out of his chair.
“Wait Mite. I’m not finished. After that we took a Delta 727 to Cincinnati. It was flight 5290/892. Wait you Dork! Don’t hop away like a Wallaby, READ ME BOOK MITE! READ 'GET REAL', IT’S ALL IN THERE!! GET ME BOOK!!!!!”
At this point I was just glad to climb up into Sergio’s plane, whoever was flying it. Sergio taxied back out to 31C and we finally left Chicago at 15:30. After “El Segundo” up front had the plane cleaned up and heading east I pulled out Hans’ paperwork again to review my instructions. Just then I felt a touch on my shoulder. There was a bearded, middle-aged man wearing a black apron standing in the isle. “G’Day sir. M’names Peter. Con I get you some fine wine?”
Over the left pocket of his apron Peter wore an eschew set of plastic wings, under which was a strip of duct tape. There was a hand-written note on the tape strip, CARRIER CERTIFIED. I looked back into Peter’s smiling face. “No thanks. I don’t really drink.” I answered, turning quickly back to my paperwork.
Peter seemed to immediately sit down in the seat next to me. “A business man such as yourself, with International connections, and you don’t drink?” He was incredulous.
“I don’t believe Donald Trump drinks.” I thought.
Peter seemed to change the topic, crossing his legs in a most awkward fashion. “So,” he asked, “What business ARE you in?” I thought he leaned in a bit closer, my head seemed to spin ‘round.
Suddenly I remembered another Flight Club story about a Flight Attendant named “Ed” and I’m sure my eyes grew wide! I felt like I was dreaming and Peter WAS Ed! “Ummmmm, important business” I tried stammering.
Peter appeared to immediately stand up and straighten the apron down over his hips, “Well!” he seemed to state. “If you need anything, just call me. Anything at all, just let Peter know.” Then I swear he marched off down the isle toward the cockpit.
I stared at the cockpit door for what seemed like five minutes before I was convinced that Peter wasn’t sabotaging my flight. I turned back to the paperwork, which was strewn over my lap, but just then, Julio drove through some turbulence and I was startled back awake. I HAD been dreaming, Peter was still standing there…”Sir?”
“I’m sorry,” I stated, “The question?”
“Wine sir. Would you like a fine Chilean wine?”
“Oh, no thanks.”
Just then Juan Valdez started his descent into Caldwell. [Photo Two]
As we got closer it looked as though Pedro was going to get to practice his IFR skills because in typical east coast fashion, visibility was limited. [Photo Three] Xavier “landed” the CRJ, near the runway and then taxied over to the hangers where I was more than happy to deplane. I sincerely hoped that this FOTM would be getting less weird soon!
***Please note that the following photos have been touched and lightened to allow you to see something other then complete and utter blackness***
I immediately met up with Roy who briefed me on the little Rockwell Commander we’d be using, then we headed out for dinner and to discuss the serious nature of his involvement in this IFSICC project. We returned in time for pre-flights and start-up just after sunset, at about 20:30. As Hans had suggested, we were directed out to runway 22 [Photo Four] where our departure was uneventful. I followed the given directions very carefully which already has me wondering about this whole VFR thing:
VFR is VISUAL flight rules, which tells me that you have to be able to SEE things in order to be visual. Therefore, VISUAL flight rules at NIGHT seem to be oxymoronic. [Photo Five]
Isn’t Hans giving us compass directions? Isn’t a compass an instrument? Isn’t flying a heading part of IFR? What’s up with that? I thought VFR directions sounded like this: “After takeoff turn left over the bridge. Follow the road to the hill on your left and turn right past the radio tower. Fly over the big red barn and along the fence-line to the railroad tracks. Turn left and follow the tracks for about 4.25 minutes until you come to the Home Depot store at your 1 o’clock…” If you are flying VFR at night, then I certainly hope that the barn is surrounded by some PRETTY BIG floodlights! (Either that or there better be a LOT of trains out!)
Hans says, “You’ll cross the coast line near the VOR.” Isn’t that a VOR? Why in the world am I flying to a VOR if I am flying VFR? I will cross the coast when I’m over water, NOT at some stupid VOR!!!
How on earth can you fly over water (at night) without using a VOR? In order to get from Groton to the island I will most certainly need a VOR. And if I have a VOR dialed up, am I still VFR? Furthermore, if I have a VOR dialed up, I can fly TO that VOR and be at the airport. What is the difficulty here? I’m thinking that the whole conspiracy theory is sounding better and better all the time. Now, if it’s noon and you can SEE the island off shore, that’s VFR!
How will I ever know when I get to Groton? Is there a big mall to look for, maybe a fuel tank farm or a 100 ft tall Christmas tree with lights? I decide instead to head to Newport Rhode Island, a rather sizable chunk out of the landscape there at the harbor. Besides, I had friends who used to live in Jamestown and we spent a summer sailing out to Block Island and Martha’s Vineyard, so I kinda know the area. (Follow the beach to the harbor, cross Jamestown island, follow the BIG bridge into town, airport is on the left.) So this is exactly what we do. Actually, it seems that visibility is dropping already so I cruise along at 2,500 feet until we cross Newport. At this point the MVY VOR is 32 miles at 122 degrees. As I turn to follow the now-centered VOR needle I wonder if JFK Jr. had any other information, any alternates ready to go? Does he know that 32 miles on a heading of 302 will get him to Newport? I guess we really don’t know all this but I did not bring any other info along either – trying to be realistic. If I can’t land I just planned on turning north or northwest until I found something. Well, here at Newport it seems I have found something so…now I know.
So here we are with no Otto, no GPS, no ILS, one alternate and one VOR. Roy and I just bop along through the darkness, keeping the blue side of the horizon indicator on the top. Eventually the needle swings around, indicating that we are over MVY. [Photo Six] The time is 21:53:53, I hit the stopwatch. “Tick…tick…tick…” okay, good enough. I turn to 060, accidentally gaining some altitude there. I drop in one notch of flaps and retrim like crazy. “Hummm, Dee-dee…laaaah-te-dahhhh, mummmmmmmm…” Okay, seven miles out, I turn left to 270, dropping in quite a miserable fashion down to 1,500 feet. The needle hasn’t quite centered up yet so I have to do a fair amount of fishing around to find it (guess it’s good I took a long seven-mile final huh?) “Wasn’t the airport at 700 feet?” I ask Roy. He only shrugs. So we muck around until the needle centers up better…1,200 feet now…more flaps…more trim…drop the gears... Are those lights? Check the gauges…slow down…more flaps…LOOK! I can see the runway rabbit lights ahead and it looks like we are WAY too high, so I throw in a little slip (which I got to practice a lot in Tony’s August FOTM) I’m too fast so I raise the nose and drop in the last of the flaps…still high…little slip…oooops, too slow…little throttle…level the wings…float and flare…holding steady…still floating…maybe I was still fast huh?…hooooldingggg…drop the nose…SQUEEK! Well, that was anticlimactic.
At this point I saved the situation and slewed back to Newport. Immediately after take-off I turned to 122 degrees and got rid of the panel view (I wanted to maximize my outside views!) Somewhere near dawn and short of reaching Morocco I ran out of gas…never did see an island. But maybe that’s because it was DARK!?!?!?
If I have learned one thing from this FOTM it is this:
THERE SHOULD BE NO SUCH THING AS VFR AFTER DARK!
THIRTY MINUTES AFTER SUNRISE UNTIL
THIRY MINUTES BEFORE SUNSET, ONLY!
Okay, so I did it, BIG DEAL! I’m sitting in my own living room, without distractions, without any somato-sensory input confusing things, without the stress of lives being on the line. Who cares if I can muddle through this drill, real people die in situations like this. This should not be taken lightly! Hans, I think this was a great and educational FOTM. An excellent study for those starting out or for the VFR-only pilots out there. This was a great job, even if I did survive, doesn’t mean I didn’t learn something. I think next time I could stand to keep my eyes down even a bit more than I did on the first try. Thank you for a job well done.
Addendums: So after landing at 22:03 I taxied to the buildings by 22:06, dropped off one passenger (Roy) and departed again at 22:30 continuing on to Hyannis without incident.
Then, I contacted another Reporting Member who has connections to the United Nations (He shall remain nameless but, you know who you are, sir. Thank you!), I reset the situation again to daylight hours and we set off from Newport, again heading 122 degrees, no other instruments. Although we could not see the island when we left Newport, we were able to hold that heading until land appeared [Photo Seven] and then, in short order, the airport. [Photo Eight] This again proves my point that VFR should be in daylight hours only.
