PLANE TALK

Dark and Stormy Landing

Are you ready for it?

LAURAN PAINE JR., EAA 582274

Let’s talk about an approach and landing in a way you won’t read about in the training manuals: the dark and stormy, bumpy and gusty, icy and wet one to the short crosswind runway. You can fly a desktop procedure trainer all day, and you still won’t be ready for the dark and stormy night approach.

You know what else? Probably 95 percent of you got your instrument rating (me included) without ever flying the nasty weather approach. Hey, at the fixed base operator, if the weather was on the lousy side, you rescheduled and flew another day. The instrument rating does, however, imply increased utility. When you get it, you’re supposed to be ready for the crummy weather approach. So let’s talk about it, and if you haven’t flown one, take heed. If you have—and many of you have—take note of the mental aspect of the approach. It is insight into the pilot mind. The bottom line is to get through the darn thing, to anticipate what it’s going to be like, and to minimize surprises because, that way, you’ll do a better job.

I remember one in particular, when even the birds weren’t flying. Put yourself in the pilot seat of an airliner. Just as you get to the end of the runway, ready for takeoff, ground control calls and says, “XYZ is down to single runway operation. We’ve been asked to delay your departure for 45 minutes.”

In the cockpit, eyes open wide and jaws drop as you ask, “Forty-five minutes, confirm?”

Ground responds apologetically, “Yes, sir.”

Great! Pull over at the end of the runway, shut down one engine to conserve fuel, cross-feed so as not to get a fuel imbalance, give the flight attendants the news, and then sit and stare out the window and watch all the other airplanes take off. This is the last leg at the end of a four-day trip and you just want to get home.

While waiting, you review the approach at destination,

knowing it’s going to be a doozie. It’s a LOC DME (localizer/ distance measuring equipment) approach with several step-downs to the short crosswind runway. It’s 600 overcast, 2 miles visibility with rain, and the winds are 180 degrees to 210 degrees at 37, gusting to 45. Been there, done that, and it ain’t pretty.

It’s 600 overcast, 2 miles visibility with

rain, and the winds are 180 degrees to

210 degrees at 37, gusting to 45. Been

there, done that, and it ain’t pretty.

The 45 minutes pass and you are cleared for takeoff. It is one of those short shuttle flights, about an hour and a half. As soon as the mains come off the ground, the bumps begin. Next thing you know you are on a vector to intercept the localizer at XYZ. It’s so bumpy that the autopilot trips off, so you grab hold and fly. That’s probably the best thing to do on this approach anyway; it’s better to be concentrating on flying than programming. It gives you a better feel for what’s going on with your airplane.

You’re on the localizer. First thing you notice…it’s hard to hold your heading. You put it on 200 degrees, and next thing you know it’s on 205 degrees. You think, “Am I that bad?” Probably not—it’s the dang gusts and bumps. One wing-rock is usually worth about 2 to 3 degrees of heading change, so it takes extra effort to keep the heading where you want it. Actually, to average the heading where you want it. You pad the airspeed a bit and think you’re pretty smart for doing that. It’s bouncing around plus or minus 15 knots anyway.