NY Approach

Adventure to Bolingbrook, IL

With Covid-19 shutting down swaths of the country in March/April/May, the FAA issued a Special Federal Aviation Regulation (SFAR) extending some training time deadlines and the non-enforcement of flying medicals for a period of time.  Since my medical was due to expire at the end of May, the extension definitely helped, but I also needed to plan getting all my required doctor visits, labs, cardiac stress test, etc. done and a visit out to Bolingbrook, IL to see my Aviation Medical Examiner (AME), Dr. Bruce.  

(Of particular note was that the language of the SFAR didn’t call the changing of the medical certificate expirations an “extension” but rather noted that the FAA would “not enforce” an expired medical certificate.  So essentially, if you got into an accident, while the FAA might find other issues to cite you on, they wouldn’t cite you on a violation of flying with an expired medical.  However, the language also required me to clarify and get the okay from my insurance company that they were honoring the FAA’s intent of extension and that I wouldn’t be violating my insurance covenants flying with an expired medical.)

All of my ducks lined up and paperwork out to Dr. Bruce, I scheduled an appointment with him in late June.  My plan was to fly out in one day and then the following morning, do my medical exam and fly home, thereby minimizing my contact/exposure with people as much as possible.  Since it was a solo trip and I wasn’t going to spend time visiting anywhere, I plotted a somewhat boring two leg trip out and just a reverse of the same legs for coming home.  My fuel stop would be Venango Regional in Franklin, PA (KFKL), just a it east of the PA/OH border. The second leg would take me to Bolingbrook’s Clow International Airport in IL, just southwest of Chicago.

The weather the first day was mostly decent, with a threat of thunderstorms across the midwest that I would have to keep an eye out for.  Knowing there was some weather ahead, I filed an Instrument Flight Rules plan.  After a thorough pre-flight (I had flown a couple days before to ensure all the maintenance work on the battery connector had been done correctly), I fired up the engine and copied down my clearance from the tower, which was a fairly straightforward westward flight, first to the Carmel VOR on the Westchester border with CT, then a couple little dog-legs on a Victor Airway to Wilkes-Barre and then as filed the rest of the way to Venango Regional.

After takeoff, the tower switched me over to NY Departure and they sent me direct to the Carmel VOR.  Upon reaching cruising altitude of 8,000’, I trimmed out the airplane and leaned out the engine (to burn the air/gas mixture at it’s most efficient point) and settled back for a quiet flight, listening to some music in the background.  After the first couple of dog-legs, as I approached the TALLI intersection in the Poconos of eastern PA, ATC cleared me direct to Venango.  (It’s not often, especially on the East Coast, that you get cleared direct to your destinatio from that far away, but, with the dearth of airplanes in the air during the Covid crisis, especially early on, there was a lot less traffic for the controllers to have to deal with!)

As I worked my way closer to Venango however, I could see on the weather radar on my multi-function display (MFD) in the panel, which displays XM Satellite weather AND on the weather radar on my iPad via ForeFlight and ADSB weather that there were numerous thunderstorm cells starting to pop up along the route.  With the controller, I figured out a turn towards the north that threaded me between two cells and then a curve back down around to the left/south to skirt another set of growing cells and start setting up for landing in Venango.  By this time, I was in the clouds, so ATC set me up for the ILS 21 approach at Venango.  The instrument approach turned out beautifully and I touched down and then figured out taxiing around some ramp construction going on and found a parking spot next to a shiny silver Cirrus on the newly re-paved ramp.

Donning my mask, I went into the FBO, unpleasantly surprised to see that no one was wearing a mask, including the 4 guys headed out to a twin engine King Air.  So I placed my fuel order, did a quick bathroom break and then ate my snack/lunch tucked in a corner of the spacious pilot lounge.  As soon as the plane was topped off, I was out the door and headed to the airplane, joined by a couple of guys heading to the Cirrus and wearing masks and heading back to Boston.

I picked up my clearance from Youngstown Clearance (they conveniently have a radio placed at Venango) and was soon back in the air, heading west.  I had to do a little bit of dodge to the north to get around a bigger thunderstorm cell forming northeast of Youngstown, but then it was fairly smooth sailing the rest of the flight.

 

My route took me right over the top of Cleveland International, with the Lake Erie shoreline and the Cleveland cityscape off to my right, and then westward, south of Toledo.  As I approached South Bend, IN, ATC, anticipating some traffic flows into Chicago, gave me a little bit of a re-routeing, sending me a little bit to the southwest to come in over Joliet and the approach into the pretty little airport at Bolingbrook.  I tied down, put in a fuel request, and then got an Uber to the hotel.  Dinner was sadly just takeout from a restaurant across the parking lot, eaten in my room, but, better safe than sorry!

The next morning, after a quick walk to Starbucks for breakfast, I took an Uber back to the airport and had my appointment with Dr. Bruce.  As always, it was great to see him and catch up a bit, and as always, he was meticulous and thorough in his exam and the almighty paperwork for the FAA.

Luckily, we didn’t linger too long, because thunderstorms were building to the west and north and headed in our direction.  I did a quick check of weather and filed my flight plan, then headed to the airplane and pre-flighted as ominous and darkening clouds were forming northwest of the field.  In the airplane, I quickly got started and then called Chicago Approach on the telephone for my clearance (luckily I can do via the bluetooth in my headset) and got my clearance back to Venango Regional.  I heard a couple rumbles of thunder as a I taxied out but I didn’t see any lightning as yet, and my route to the south east was pure clear daylight.  With no one else flying in the area, I was quickly on the runway and pushed the throttle in as the skies opened and a hard rain started to fall.

As I cleared the ground and started to climb, turning southeast and away from the ugly clouds, I literally outran the rain and broke into crystal clear air. Chicago Approach quickly cleared me up to my assigned altitude of 5,000’ and on course. I snapped an image on my iPad of the Foreflight radar image that showed how nasty some of the weather behind me was getting.

As I worked my way east, I had a smooth flight, somewhat hazy, but nothing too bad.  At South Bend, ATC cleared me direct to a VOR just west of Cleveland and then it was just a matter of again sitting back and enjoying the view.  It was an effortless flight, essentially parallelling I-80 the entire time, off on my left side.  Once more, over the top of Cleveland and on to Youngstown where they started my descent back to Venango.  I closed my flight plan with Youngstown Approach while in the air, just a few miles from Venango, with the runway in sight.  About 1 mile from the airport, I hit a HUGE air bubble out of nowhere and everything on the passenger seat went up in the air and dropped back down again.  For the nearly 2.9 hours leg, not a burble and then I had to end with that.  I had a smooth landing though on Runway 12 and then it was back into the FBO with my mask to request a top-off.  

The last leg of the trip was uneventful as well, just cruising along PA.  As I approached Wilkes-Barre, though, ATC decided to give me a re-route back into Bridgeport, so they sent me northeast to Sullivan County, NY, across to Newburgh, NY, over to Kingston, NY and then back down towards Danbury, CT to arrive at Bridgeport from the north.  There may have been a Trump visit to his golf resort in NJ that was planned, but it shouldn’t have required a re-route that far north!

During Covid, it was a nice trip to get out, even for a night, but very much socially distanced.  Overall, I added about 12 hours flying over the two days and, in my book, I’ll always take that kind of happiness!

Spring 2020 Flying cont’d - In Flight Emergency — Because It’s 2020!

With Covid-19 shutting much of life down, I spent much of March and April also trying to work out how I was going to manage to renew my flight medical, set to expire at the end of May.  So there were doctor visits, lab work and a cardiac stress test to try to figure out. Luckily, reasonable heads at the FAA stepped in and announced a non-enforcement policy/extension time to renew medicals (as well as some variability for certain other training deadlines).  As I got all of those administrative ducks lined up for myself, I also wanted to ensure that I was on top of my instrument flying game, as I’d have to plan a visit out to Bolingbrook, IL to see Dr. Bruce, my Senior Aviation Medical Examiner (and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be flying out there commercially).

So at the beginning of May, I headed out to the airport to do a morning of instrument practice with Milton.  Unfortnately, in just the couple of weeks the plane had been inactive, birds had struck again, this time putting a nest (sans eggs luckily), this time in the tail cone of the airplane (where the rudder and elevator meet, so a lot of connecting wires there, not to mention the electrical wires for the red tail beacon and the white aft position light).  I had to actually unscrew ALL of the numerous screws and remove the tailcone to get access to all the grass debris lodged in there.  Sigh.

Milton and I knocked out a good number of approaches that morning, mostly out at Chester, CT, where you can perform a see-saw—come in from the south on the GPS 35 approach, make a low approach (pass) of the runway, and the missed approach takes you straight out and sets you up nicely for the GPS 17 approach from the north.  When you make the low approach and go missed from the GPS 17 approach, you end up perfectly set up for doing the GPS 35 approach all over again.  While it may seem a little boring, it is a timesaver and we varied it up a bit to keep it interesting.  On some approaches we would hand-fly the airplane and on some approaches were did a coupled approach, where the autopilot, linked to the GPS, is flying the approach. With the autopilot I have installed, Gwaihir will actually also fly the glide slope (descent) on an actual approach, so all I have to do is monitor the approach, manage the power, landing gear and flaps.  In a real-life/real world conditions, I would likely fly a coupled approach whenever possible.

Following that flight, Gwaihir went in for its annual inspection, where they again opened up all the inspection ports, took out all the seating and thoroughly checked the airplane over, fixing any little items (and luckily we didn’t have any major items this year!).  The plane came out of annual on the 11th and I did a shakeout flight on the 12th without any issues.  

Given the wear and tear on the alternator belt and the cracked spinner plate, both of which can be signs that something is slightly out of balance on the propeller as it spins, I had asked the mechanics about getting a dynamic balancing done on the propeller.  The specialist was able to come out on the 13th and do that, getting the “wobble” from 0.345 down to 0.001, which is nearly perfect.  Here’s a good article from AOPA on what the process looks like and why it’s important:

https://www.aopa.org/news-and-media/all-news/2018/january/22/propeller-maintenance-balancing

On the 14th, Michiko and I planned a flight out to Block Island for a socially distanced walk around town and just to get out for a little while after being cooped up at home so long.  In fact, this was Michiko’s first flight with me this year!  After doing a careful pre-flight, I flipped the master switch and got the click of a dead battery.  Figuring maybe the annual inspection and the dynamic balancing had just worn the battery a bit, I was able to get a jump start from the line crew.  (There’s a little access door on the left hand side of the engine cowling, well behind the propeller, for an external power cable).  The plane fired up immediately with no issues, so I carefully ran through my pre-flight and pre-takeoff checklists, paying special attention to the electrical items, including the alternator to ensure the battery was showing that it was charging.

The wind was out of the east, so we taxied all the way around to Runway 11 and were cleared for takeoff.  I lined up on the runway, pushed the power in and we were quickly rolling down the runway.  At rotation speed, I eased back on the yoke a little and the plane leapt into the air.  

And as soon as the landing gear left the ground, the entire electrical circuit in the plane died!  The GPS, engine monitor and multi-function display screens went black, the radios and the transponder clicked off.  It was a complete electrical system failure.

The first and only rule of an emergency is fly the airplane.  I knew that the airplane could continue to fly without electrical power.  The engine powers the alternator which fires the spark plugs and the fuel system doesn’t require a fuel pump to feed the engine.  Essentially, the airplane didn’t care at all that the electrical system was down. So I continued climbing straight out along the runway heading and when I reached about 700’, I made a crosswind turn to the right to come back to land on Runway 11–figuring that the control tower guys would catch on that I was now staying in the traffic pattern rather than heading straight out as planned.  

I continued the climb to 1,000’ (pattern altitude at Bridgeport) and Michiko, who had figured out that something wasn’t right (and also because she couldn’t talk to me on the intercom), saw that the panels were all dark.  I reached behind me to my flight bag and grabbed the handheld radio I carry as a backup (because of course I do!), plugged in my headset to it and called the tower to tell them I’d had a complete electrical failure and was returning to land.  Calm as always, they immediately cleared me to land, but then also immediately offered me the option to land on Runway 6 if I wanted to (winds were light)(and it would save me time from having to circle all the way back around to Runway 11), so I took that option and made a normal landing on Runway 6, using the handheld to get the okay to taxi back to Three Wing.  

Overall, if you’re going to have an in flight emergency, that’s exacly the kind to have—the non-event kind.  I flew a mostly normal pattern, made a normal landing and tucked the airplane safely back in its parking spot.  I never broke a sweat and Michiko, though she knew something was wrong, never felt like there was something to be scared about and we had a laugh about it later.

I immediately let the maintenance folks know so that they could take a look the next day, Monday.  On Tuesday, the maintenance folks sent me a photo of the culprit.  The main battery connector, a 40-year-old original item, was fried.  That morning, I also had a friendly call from the FAA Flight Standards District Office (FSDO), asking about the incident.  Because of the nature of my immediate return to the airport, they had been notified by the control tower folks as a matter of course.  The FSDO guy then had a quick call with the maintenance head at Three Wing and everyone was happy.

 

Spring 2020 Flying - Cracks, COVID-19 & Birds

In March, the world started to go a bit crazy. At the very beginning of the month, I did a nice solo flight along the CT shoreline, doing some maneuvering flight, including steep turns and stalls.  

A week later, I flew over to Farmingdale to pick up Milton to do some instrument approach practice. As we took off to head northeast to Chester, CT and one of our favorite spots for doing approaches, the alternator light came on, indicating that we’d had an alternator failure and that all of the airplanes electrical systems were now running on the battery.  I recycled the master switch a couple of times (it’s a split rocker switch with a BAT side and an ALT side), but I couldn’t extinguish the light.

Given we possibly had only 30 minutes of battery time available before the radios, GPS and lights started going off, we decided to head straight back to Bridgeport, rather than try to land at Farmingdale, drop Milton off, and then wait in line to take off again back to Bridgeport.  If I was going to have a mechanical issue, I’d rather have it on the ground at Bridgeport where my mechanics could take care of a sick bird.  

We landed without incident at Bridgeport and I tried to help Milton figure out getting home on Long Island.  The folks at Signature were very helpful trying to line up a one way rental car, but at the last second it fell through on availability.  Ultimately Milton ended up having to Uber home...never a happy way to end the flying day.

When the mechanics went in to fix the plane, they found that it wasn’t a failure of the alternator—rather, it was the alternator belt that was slipping off its track and frayed, causing the problem.  That was the good news.  The bad news was that when they took the propeller off to access the belt and alternator, they found a hairline crack in the aft-spinner bulkhead plate. (The propeller assembly (broadly speaking, the spinner) is held onto the airplane by a sandwiching pair of bulkhead plates—a crack of that fast spinning plate could quickly worsen, separate and throw the propeller out of alignment, which can then damage the engine.). Of course, the bulkhead spinner is not a cheap part, nor one that the shop kept handy, so they had to find and ship one in.  They did quick work though, and a week later, I took Gwaihir up on a short shakeout flight along the CT shoreline, staying within gliding distance of the shore.  The plane performed beautifully.

And then the world shut down.  For a couple of months, starting in China with news of a mysterious illness quickly spreading, we’d been hearing more and more about Covid-19 and then its arrival in the US.  After seemingly starting out in the Pacific Northwest, Westchester County and NYC quickly became the epicenter and the Northeast region shut down.  A birthday party in Westport, CT, the next town over from us, at the beginning of March, before Covid was on people’s radar, turned out to be one of the first super-spreader events.

We were just starting to hear about Covid in mid-March when my wife came down with it.  We’re not sure where she contracted it, nor, because she was only symptomatic and not needing hospitalization, could we even get a test at the time.  Luckily her symptoms didn’t worsen too much, though she had some mild difficulty breathing for a few days, which was certainly worrisome.  So we hunkered down with the bit of toilet paper we were able to find and, like everyone else on the East Coast, started to try to wait it out, not leaving the house except for grocery shopping.

After a month of isolation, and as we learned more about what we could do to be safe, I ventured out to the airport to do a solo flight, carefully avoiding everyone and anyone.  However, I found that while all of us humans were hunkered down in our homes not going anywhere, nature had taken the opportunity to remind us of her supremacy.  A pair of Robins had managed to make their nest in the cowl flap (a U-shaped hatch under the engine that allows more air to flow over and cool the engine).    I spent the better part of 40 minutes removing the nest and, unfortunately, breaking some eggs in the process, since I couldn’t see them wedged up in there.  I actually took the two top covers off the engine compartment to ensure that nothing else was inside and borrowed a leaf blower from the line crew to thoroughly flush out any remaining straw debris.  (That kind of dry tinder, in an engine compartment, will catch fire in a heartbeat and cause all sorts of bad days, healthwise or financially!)

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Once the nest was sorted out and the rest of the airplane meticulously pre-flighted for any other feathered friends or rodents or bug nests, I was finally back into the air.  To say that it was exhilerating and refreshing would be an understatement.  The worry and dread and uncertainty of the last month and whatever the future held melted away as I focused on flying, breathing deeply and soaking in the fresh air.  I did some more maneuvering flight along the CT shoreline, just relishing the feel of the airplane going through its paces.    

 

Early 2020 Flying

January 2020 didn’t cooperate too much for flying due to weather.  I had a couple short solo flights in the local area, but nothing too exciting.  But even those flights are fulfilling in some way—whether just a chance to relax and clear my head from earthly issues, or views of pretty clouds below over the water or perfect parking jobs......!

In early February, Milton and I planned to do one of the kitten rescue flights down to North Carolina and back. I agreed to pick him up in Farmingdale and then we’d make our way south.  However, on just the hop over to Farmingdale, in what the FAA deemed Visual Flight Rules conditions (visibility of more than 5 miles), I was not a happy camper.  Yes, I could make out the Northport smoke stacks from 6 miles away, but I felt like I was feeling my way through thick air and certainly wasn’t going to be able to spot any other aircraft traffic out there!  When I landed at FRG, Milton and I went for breakfast, hoping the weather and low cloud would clear up....Because of the cold temps, we didn’t want to just file an instrument flight plan and try to fly through icy clouds, so we ultimately postponed the trip until later in the month.  The cat rescue folks were all understanding—always better to be safe than sorry.  I made a “VFR” beeline back to Bridgeport, and sure enough, the weather deteriorated through the day with a mix of ice and rain.  

In mid-February, I learned of the passing of a long-time family friend, Father Randall Blackall.  As far back as I can remember, Fr. Blackall had been a part of our lives, working with my parents in one of their church-related volunteer organizations, as well as celebrating numerous holidays and Catholic sacrament celebrations (baptisms, first confessions, First Communions, Confirmations, etc.) with our family.  He was always fun, quick with a laugh and a good story.  We also spent some time visiting him, and I particularly fondly remember visits while he was pastor of St. Bridget Church in Cornwall, CT.  For a while, he had a georgeous house on a beautiful hilltop that had been donated by parishioners for his use until a parish house was built next to the church itself.

https://www.courant.com/obituaries/hc-obituary-l-randall-blackall-20200216-story.html

 

So to honor him, I did a flight up to NW CT and over St. Bridget and Cornwall Bridge, remembering some of the fun times hanging out with him there.

Later in February, I got to do the postponed kitten rescue flight to North Carolina and back.  Unfortunately, Milton was unavailable, so I flew it solo, but I got a terrificly gorgeous CAVU (ceiling and visibility unlimited) day, with gentle winds, bright sunlight and smooth as silk air.  We had had some winter storms during the week and the previous day, including snow and ice, but this Saturday was the perfect aftermath!

As usual, my route south took me over the top of JFK, with large jets arriving and departing underneath me.  (It never grows old hearing departure instructions to these large jets telling them to watch for the small Cessna above them!). Then it was down the NJ shoreline, across DE and MD and the Patuxent River Naval Air Station (with fighter jets on the tarmac), on past Richmond and down into NC where there was surprisingly (probably moreso for the NC residents!) still snow covering the ground, despite the balmy temps in the 50s!

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The kitten rescue folks were waiting for me at the airport, and kindly fed me a sandwich and chicken soup while I checked weather (gorgeous) for the return flight and looked at the weird fish in the FBO’s fish tank!  They made their goodbyes to the kittens they’d grown attached to, and then it was off to CT to their new homes!

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The return flight was just about the same routing as the morning, and with the same gorgeous conditions.  As I approached Delaware, however, and was speaking with Dover Approach, I could see smudges of black smoke ahead in NJ.  As I got closer, it turned out they were large brush fires burning throughout the area.  Not only could I get occasional whiffs of smoke, but the fires were so large I could also make out the flames from my altitude, which means the flames must have been at least 10-20’ high!  

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Once past the fires, it was smooth sailing again, over the top of JFK and a descent back into Bridgeport.

At the very end of February, I attended a luncheon at The Wings Club, an aviation industry organization that brings together airline, manufacturer, finance, legal, media and other business folks involved in the aerospace industry.  This lecture was the annual “Sight Lecture”, one of the highlights of the year, and was a presentation by Virgin Galactics CEO, George Whitesides, discussing their SpaceShipTwo program.  It was a fascinating lecture and, to top if off, Ben, a friend, fellow R182 pilot and IP lawyer who was sitting at my table won the door prize raffle, a gorgeous model of SpaceShipTwo!

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