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Every Flight Is A Learning Experiece
by Dale Brown, 2008

ARTICLE ORIGINALLY APPEARED AT TheBigFiveOh.com Blog @ Yahoo.Com, July 26, 2008

My goal has always been to fly once a week and to do instrument work and communicate with air traffic control on each flight. But with work and other responsibilities, it's just not practical. It's like playing a full round of golf: it's almost an all-day thing.

Add high fuel prices on top of the time commitment, and flying for other than pure business is tough. But the Catch-22 is that flying is not as safe as it can be if you don't practice.

It had been almost three weeks since I last flew the Aztec. I had a brief business trip planned in the San Francisco Bay area and decided to fly the Aztec instead of drive. If I drove, it might have turned into an overnight trip, so flying was a good choice. The weather was perfect (still some smoke from the California fires but not as bad as earlier this month).

San Carlos Airport is a small general aviation airport between San Francisco International and San Jose International. It sits on some prime San Francisco Bay real estate and I'm surprised it hasn't been closed down--anything I can do to keep it open, I'll be happy to do.

But San Carlos's runway is only 2,600 feet long, about a third of the length of runways I'm accustomed to using. I checked the performance charts for the Aztec, and they said at a worst-case scenario (80 degrees F, no headwind, max landing weight) the plane will clear a 50-foot obstacle and land in 1,700 feet. On paper, we were good to go.

But on final approach, that runway looked no longer than my driveway! The book suggested 90 MPH over the fence and full flaps, but we still rolled out to the very last taxiway at the end of the runway. My heart was definitely a-pumpin' that landing!

Soon after it was time to depart. Another check of the performance charts: max gross weight (we weren't that heavy, but every pound less is an added margin of safety). 80 degrees F (it wasn't that warm, but every degree cooler is good), no headwind (we had a 10-knot headwind, but again, I plan for worst-case scenarios) and the takeoff distance over a 50-foot obstacle is 1,700 feet. Add some distance "for the wife and kids" and we're still good.

Normal takeoff numbers are good...but what if I lose an engine on takeoff? Will I stop on this short runway in time to avoid splashing down in the tidal marshes?

Back in the books. Worst-case scenario, the book says the accelerate-stop distance is 2,400 feet. That's assuming perfect technique. That assumes that I start at the very end of the runway (you can't), accelerate to rotate speed, lose an engine, recognize it immediately, chop the power, and stand on the brakes.

Even if I executed it perfectly, we only have 200 feet to spare. That's cutting it close.

The performance numbers are computed by a test pilot who flies every day. I haven't flown in 3 weeks. Are those book numbers even valid in my case?

Well, they're the numbers I work with, and they say go for it. There's enough of a fudge factor in there. Besides, as Crazy Horse once said: "Today is a good day to die."

I was taught by my Simcom flight instructor John Rockcastle that you start every takeoff expecting a disaster. You run through the mental checklist, envisioning and anticipating the worst:

Lose an engine before leaving the runway and you chop power and brake hard to a stop; accelerate to takeoff speed but still have the gear down and you crash-land straight ahead unless you can pump the gear up in time; accelerate to blue line with the gear up and you feather the prop of the bad engine, continue the climb, and sort out the problem in the air.

I'm accustomed to repeating the checklist aloud, and I imagine it's a little unnerving for my passengers to listen to it.

Man, the end of that runway comes up fast--but the takeoff went fine.

Now I've got to get out of busy San Francisco, San Jose, and Oakland Class B airspace. My clearance is long: heading to this radial, a vector to another radial, another airway at a certain altitude, change radio frequencies seemingly every 60 seconds. Traffic at San Carlos is light, but the little airport is surrounded by many big airports, and I'm zig-zagging through the sky with airliners and bizjets all around me. My little blue and white Aztec is a bug speck on their windscreen to them.

Just like traveling to the Bay area, the best parts are arriving there...and leaving. It takes a good 20 minutes before the radios quiet down and I can sit back and relax.

The winds at home have shifted so I have to use Minden's "short" runway--which is over twice as long as San Carlos's. The book says landing distance is 2,000 feet. Piece of cake.

Yes, that aroma is the sweat sticking my shirt to the seat. It was a good workout.

My new goal, hammered home once again: I MUST practice if I intend to remain a safe and proficient pilot. Once every three weeks is not acceptable. If I don't practice, I might as well not have a plane. Period.

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