U-Turns

My usual goal is avoid anything to do with aviation on my day off, but I feel compelled to help out today because I’ve learned something important over the years: Everything in aviation is connected - people, planes, airports, weather. Today’s short flight is to ferry an aircraft to a nearby airport for it’s 50-hour oil change and to have some squawks (minor problems) addressed. I haven’t flown this aircraft in a while, but things can change in a heartbeat. I never know when my teaching schedule could make me dependent on this particular plane. Obviously others are flying this plane, otherwise it wouldn’t need an oil change and the best time to wrench on a plane is when the weather prevents it from flying anyway. Unnecessary down time causes everyone to lose and the simple act of ferrying this plane will help the owner, the operator, other instructors, other pilots, and ultimately myself. The way I look at it, aviation is just a really big family.

For the last six weeks the weather has been nothing short of spectacular, better than many summer days. Today the conditions just turned decidedly winter-like with the first of what promises to be a series of cold fronts. The surface winds are out of the Southeast in the vicinity of 15 knots with gusts up to 30 knots, the ceilings and visibility near my house are low with light rain and mist, but the departure and arrival airports are still reporting weather consistent with visual flight rules (VFR). Experience tells me the conditions near my house will eventually spread to the Southeast, engulfing both airports, making them switch to the more complicated and time-consuming instrument flight rules (IFR). It only takes a little imagination to see that if I begin the flight soon, it will be a short, simple affair under VFR. A later departure will make the flight more complicated and time-consuming. I hope for the simple version, but because I know life is complicated I also file an IFR flight plan before leaving the house.

With traffic, I’ll need about 40 minutes to complete the 15 mile drive to the airport. There are a bunch of non-aviation chores to be done on my day off that I’m hoping to do first. And since the ferry flight will be a one way trip, I coordinate a ride back to my car with a friend. Glancing at the time, I do the mental math, consider time to dispatch and preflight the plane, add an extra 30 minutes, and decide on a departure time of noon. On the way, Google maps on my iPhone shows slow freeway traffic. Only after experiencing the slow-and-go firsthand does the cause become clear: Two blocked lanes where CalTrans is sweeping the median. 20 minutes of my 30 minute fudge factor are now gone.

During the dispatch and preflight, I take note of the minor discrepancies other pilots have reported. More delays slowly eat into the remaining 10 minutes of my fudge factor before I have the engine started. Then I discover a minor problem with the number two radio that was previously unreported. Hey, it’s not my fault! As a freight dog friend of mine used to say, “I don’t break ‘em, I just fly ‘em.”

The delays have compounded and the weather is deteriorating rapidly. Low ceilings and rain are creeping in from the Northwest, but the Bay Area is on the Southeast plan and that will help my cause: I’ll be headed directly to my destination right after takeoff. What doesn’t help is that the ground control frequency is busy and the controller seems distracted. I call for taxi and am told to hold my position. I hear two landing bizjets inform the tower they broke out on the approach at 500 feet. The current Automated Terminal Information Service (the airport’s weather report) was reporting an overcast ceiling at 2500 feet. The ATIS obviously need to be updated and that may explain the distracted controller. As I sit and wait, I can see my VFR plans fading rapidly. After another two minutes of waiting I throw in the towel, switch to clearance delivery and request an IFR clearance. I’m glad I filed that IFR flight plan. Calling ground control again with an IFR clearance, I get immediate taxi instructions.

The last card I may be able to play is to depart IFR and hope to remain out of the clouds long enough to see the nearby destination airport. That could allow me to call the field in sight and still proceed visually to the airport. That plan looks doubtful as I hit the clouds at 500 feet after takeoff and aside from brief glimpses of the ground, I can’t see the destination airport.

Looking on the bright side, I’ll get a rare, solo IFR flight in a nice, steam gauge aircraft. A change of pace is always good. The ride gets a bit bumpy, then I break out between cloud layers for a few moments. Further to the East the conditions are still VFR. I can see the Livermore airport for a few minutes before I’m turned back into the clouds toward my destination.

All the instrument approaches to my destination are to the West-facing runways. The strong, gusty surface winds dictate a circle to the opposite, East-facing runway once I enter visual conditions. In essence, the entire flight has been a very large U-turn in the sky, followed by another U-turn before landing. This flight is a good illustration of how IFR flights can be much more complicated and time-consuming that a short VFR hop. Southeast, three miles out on the approach I see the destination airport and the slow-moving wall of precipitation closing in from the Northwest.

The tower controller’s instructions are to circle to the South and I’m cleared to land on the East-facing runway. Flying the downwind leg, parallel to the runway, requires about a 20 degree wind correction angle to the left to keep the wind from pushing me over the runway. Though I’m in visual conditions, I’m careful to not descend below the minimum circling altitude until I’m on final approach to the runway. My base turn is just clear of the rainy goo that is about to engulf the airport.

Completing the final U-turn and aligned with runway, the 20 degree wind correction angle is now to the left. Unprompted, the tower controller informs me the surface winds are out of the South, gusting to around 25 knots. Flaps 30 and this will be a good crosswind component. The little gray cells are fully engaged as I focus on the white paint on the runway pavement. The aiming point on the runway appears to move up the windshield and the plane is bounced about. A little wind shear, but my left hand has unconsciously moved the throttle in to increase engine power. A few seconds later, the aiming point is moving down the windshield and I reduce power. This dance continues until the aircraft is right over the runway pavement.

Tracking right over the centerline, the nose is still pointed to the right to compensate for the wind. Slowly move the throttle toward idle, the plane sinks to the pavement, just ease in left rudder to align the nose with the centerline, simultaneously turning the yoke to the right to offset the wind. The right main wheel touches first, lightly, and time seems to stop with the plane balanced on one wheel. Gradually the left main wheel touches down, the nose wheel follows, and it’s time to turn the yoke all the way to the right, retract the flaps and gently start braking.

Taxing clear of the runway, the ground controller clears me to taxi and there’s a moment to reflect. Few things in life as satisfying as a well-executed crosswind landing, but that’s just icing on the cake. I’ve hit the trifecta - a nice solo flight, an instrument approach, and I’ve done my part to keep my aviation community running smoothly. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, but today the shortest distance between two points consisted of two U-turns.

Play Well With Others

I sometimes receive suggestions from readers about topics they'd like to see covered, which was the genesis for this post. If you have a suggestion, you can always email me at freightxdogxtalesxatxgmailzcom - just remove the Xs and replace the Z with a ".".

The FAA (and many instructors) do a good job of explaining what a complicated airspace system we have in the US, but we could do a better job of explaining why different classes of airspace exist. Pilots may be able to identify airspace classes on a chart, correctly describe the altitudes and lateral dimensions, and belch out the visibility and cloud clearance requirements by rote, but an understanding level of knowledge is more elusive. My concern today is simply Class E and G airspace, how VFR and IFR traffic can coexist at non-towered airports, how to make clear position reports whether you are VFR or IFR, and a common sense approach to resolving conflicts.

Why Class E?

All pilots need to remember that Class E airspace defines an area that may be shared by aircraft operating under instrument flight rules (IFR) and aircraft operating under visual flight rules (VFR) without an air traffic controller providing separation. What separates these aircraft is the see-and-avoid concept.

Class E airspace will surround non-towered airports with one or more instrument approach procedures and rural heliports that support emergency medical flight operations. Class E can also exist at airports that don't have continuous control tower operations: The airspace around the airport is Class D when the tower is open, but reverts to either Class E, Class G, or a combination of the two when the tower is closed. The best way to know is to check the Airport/Facility Directory entry for that airport.

IFR aircraft can operate in Class E in instrument meteorological conditions (IMC), in visual meteorological conditions (VMC), or they may be passing in and out of the clouds, so 14 CFR 91.155 requires pilots under VFR to comply with specific flight visibility and cloud clearance requirements. This helps ensure that VFR and IFR aircraft have a fighting chance to see and avoid one another since ATC isn't there to play referee and point out traffic.

Class E Depiction

Class E airspace is explicitly depicted in a variety of ways on VFR charts, but it can also be implied. A dotted magenta line encloses areas of Class E airspace starting at the surface and extending up to 18,000 feet. Surface Class E is usually defined around an airport where the FAA definitely doesn't want scud-running VFR aircraft who might pose a hazard to aircraft on an instrument approach.

The magenta vignette encloses areas where Class E starts at 700 feet above ground level (AGL) up to 18,000 feet. It is also found around non-towered airports that have instrument approach procedures or EMS heliports. The shape of the magenta vignette roughly describes the instrument approach final approach course, the missed approach segment, and/or the instrument departure path for that airport. Beneath the 700 foot floor of Class E airspace is Class G, or uncontrolled airspace.

I'm leaving out some of the other ways Class E airspace is depicted and remember that Class G (or uncontrolled) airspace exists underneath the magenta vignette. Adjacent to the magenta dotted line or vignette depiction, Class G exists from the surface up to 1200 feet above ground level and above 1200 feet, Class E up to 18,000 feet is implied. During the daytime, Class G has much laxer requirements for VFR visibility and cloud clearance than Class E and this will figure into the discussion a bit later.

Two Cars in Kansas

Let's get back to IFR and VFR traffic sharing the same airspace. Let's say you are a VFR pilot inbound to Ukiah, California from the Southeast. You were receiving flight following from Oakland Center when, about 12 miles out Oakland Center tells you "radar service terminated, squawk VFR, frequency change approved." You've already listened to the surface weather and know there is a 3,000 foot broken ceiling with 5 miles visibility in haze. The winds are 310 at 12 knots and runway 33 appears to be indicated. The sky is clear in your current location, so you begin a VFR descent to get under the cloud layer ahead. Next, you change frequencies and make your first announcement on the common traffic advisory frequency (CTAF):

Ukiah traffic, Mooney 123, 10 miles Southeast, 4000 feet and descending, planning right traffic runway 33, Ukiah.

Unbeknownst to you, there is a freight aircraft that is also inbound to Ukiah from the Northwest, operating under Part 135, and on an instrument flight plan. A bit later, Oakland Center clears the freight aircraft for an instrument approach and ends with:

Boxhauler 333, radar service terminated, change to advisory frequency approved, report cancellation of IFR on this frequency or with flight service, traffic is a VFR Mooney inbound from the Southeast, good day.

Since you've changed frequency, you don't hear that exchange. You've maneuvered your Mooney under the overcast, you have 5 miles visibility and are 500' below the clouds when you hear:

Ukiah traffic, Boxhauler 333, 8 miles Northwest, 3500, localizer 15 approach, Ukiah.

Get the Flick

You need to quickly assemble a mental picture of your situation: The freight aircraft is inbound to the same airport from the opposite direction, they may still be in the clouds, and they're planning to land on the runway opposite the one you have chosen. They just changed to the common traffic frequency so they did not hear your initial CTAF announcement. What's more, they probably have a faster groundspeed than you. Who has right-of-way? What should you say? How do you work out the opposite runway conflict?

The regulations (14 CFR 91.113) say that whoever gets to the airport first and it at a lower altitude in a position to land has the right of way. What's more that aircraft can land on any runway they want because all runways are active. This is why I recommend avoiding the commonly used phrase "the active" at non-towered airports - all the runways are potentially active.

Some pilots mights say Ukiah is an "uncontrolled airport," but that's a misnomer. It's certainly not in uncontrolled airspace since Class E extends all the way to the surface. More importantly, there is control at all non-towered airports. It's called self-control on the part of the pilots operating there, whether they are VFR or IFR. The keys to working out traffic pattern conflicts are clear communication, common sense, and courteous cooperation.

Where you At?

Clear communication using accepted phraseology is a good first step. Instrument-rated pilots, you can mention the instrument approach you are flying, but it won't be of any use to non-instrument-rated pilots or to pilots who are unfamiliar with the approaches to the airport. Reporting your position using approach fix names is just as meaningless. So whether VFR or IFR, keep it simple:

• The airport name
• Your aircraft model and tail number (or company and flight number)
• Distance and cardinal direction from the airport
• Your intentions.

Remember there could also be aircraft operating at a non-towered airport that don't have a radio or there could be an aircraft with a radio that has failed, so keep your eyes peeled for other traffic and expect the unexpected.

Speak Up

When you hear another aircraft make a CTAF announcement and realize there's potential conflict, that's your cue to say something. In our scenario, after you hear the freight aircraft make their announcement, you might say:

Ukiah traffic, Mooney 123 is 4 miles Southeast at 2500, planning right traffic, runway 33, looking for Boxhauler, Ukiah.

You can ask other aircraft if they are still in the clouds, what their ground speed is, or anything else that will provide you with the verbal equivalent of TCAS. If the other aircraft is still in IMC, you could ask them to say their intentions.

Ukiah traffic, Mooney 123, 3 mile forty-five, right traffic 33, the field is VFR, winds favoring runway 33, Boxhauler, say intentions, Ukiah.

Share Your Toys

Pilots at non-towered operations should have the same goal that air traffic controllers have: The safe and orderly flow of traffic. If another aircraft is faster and it's safe to do so, let them go first. Fly a wide downwind, slow down, or maneuver to give them time to land and clear the runway.

Instrument pilots, remember that you don't own the sky just because you are on an instrument flight plan or flying a practice approach. And remember too that not everyone understands instrument procedures and terms.

On the flips side, I've flown a lot of practice approaches with instrument students into non-towered airport and I can sympathize. When I hear someone inbound on an approach and they say they would like to circle in a non-VFR manner or do a straight-in approach, I try to accommodate their request if I can do so safely. Widening my traffic pattern or slowing down might cost me, what, two or three minutes of my time?

VFR pilots remember that you need to be at least 500 feet beneath the clouds in Class E airspace. Practicing touch-and-goes at a non-towered airport when the ceiling is low is risky business: Don't do it. Flying a non-standard 690 foot AGL traffic pattern so that you are just outside of Class E, technically VFR, and legal is also a poor choice.

Safe operations at non-towered airports depend on good radio technique, assembling a mental picture of what is happening, and being cooperative. Adhering to the rules also helps, but rules can't cover every eventuality. There's no replacement for courtesy and common sense. Being sharp and on-the-ball helps, too.

Broken Circle

On January 3, 2009 at 1710 mountain standard time (MST) a Learjet 45, N279AJ, sustained substantial damage when attempting to land during a snowstorm at Telluride Regional Airport (KTEX), Telluride, CO. The airplane was owned by LJ279, LLC, Missoula, MT and operated by Aero Jet Services, Scottsdale, AZ. The CFR 49 Part 91 positioning flight was conducted using instrument flight rules and had departed Scottsdale Airport (KSDL), Scottsdale, AZ at 1503 MST. The pilot occupying the left seat was not injured and the pilot occupying the right seat received minor injuries. Both pilots were able to exit the airplane unassisted.

The circle-to-land maneuver is one of the more risky activities that you may do under instrument flight rules, second only to the contact approach. Many freight operators manage these risks by prohibiting their pilots from executing circle-to-land maneuvers at night and most part 121 operators prohibit circling approaches altogether. To understand why a circling approach is potentially more dangerous than a straight-in approach, you need to understand why these minima exist and the challenges that pilots face when executing the circle-to-land maneuver.

Examine the Circular File
One of several situations that require a circle-to-land maneuver is when an approach procedure's final approach course is more than 30˚ out of alignment with any runway at the airport (15˚ for GPS approaches). In these cases, no straight-in approach minima will be published, the approach name will use a letter (starting from the beginning of the alphabet) instead of a specific runway, and the pilot must adhere to the circling minima. This approach into Hanford, California has a final approach segment that is at a right angle to both runways, so you may have no choice but to enter a modified traffic pattern and circle to land on either runway 32 or 14. If you acquire the necessary visual references early enough, nothing in the regulations prevents you from maneuvering early for a straight-in landing.



The NDB or GPS-A approach to Lakeport terminates at the NDB (which has been out of service for almost as long as I can remember) and the pilot must fly visually to the airport, provided they have the necessary visibility and high enough cloud ceiling. It is important to realize that if you begin flying a visual segment like this, then lose visual references and decide to execute the missed approach, it's likely you won't have the normal 40:1 obstruction clearance that you would if you began the missed approach at the missed approach point. Anytime you elect to fly the missed approach, you best climb like a striped monkey (i.e. at your aircraft's best rate of climb) until you reach a safe altitude.



Many pilots don't know or never learned that circling minima will also be provided when the descent gradient from the final approach fix to the runway threshold exceeds 400 feet per nautical mile, even when the final approach course is aligned with the runway. The reason is simple: You may arrive at the missed approach point, visually acquire the runway, yet be too hight to execute a landing using normal maneuvers. This is exactly what happened to the accident flight crew.

One of my favorite examples is the Gillespie LOC-D approach. The localizer is aligned with the runway, but no straight-in minima are published due to terrain and obstructions.


Finally, circling minima are often published in addition to straight-in minima. The circling minima, which are usually higher, allow the pilot to descend on the approach and, once they have the necessary visual references and are at or above the circling minima, maneuver to land on a different runway. This can be advantageous if the surface winds are favoring a different runway for which there is no instrument approach.

The Telluride LOC/DME RWY 9 approach has both straight-in and circling minima, but unlike most approaches, the straight-in minima and the circling minima are the same. I don't know if this is the approach that the accident flight crew was flying, but it likely was because the localizer offers the lowest minima of any of the approaches into that airport.



Manage the Risks
NACO instrument approach charts provide an inset map that shows the airport runway layout, relevant obstructions, and the final approach course relative to the runways. If you are using Jepp charts, you'll need to have the airport diagram out and at the ready, but that diagram won't show the approach course relative to the runways.

On reason the circle-to-land maneuver is more risky is that the pilot must transition from flying on instruments to flying by visual references and then begin maneuvering in a modified traffic pattern fashion. Throw in poor visibility, high surface winds, or night conditions and you've got yourself a real handful. Often the circling MDA is lower than the normal VFR traffic pattern and the obstruction clearance while circling in the protected area is a mere 300 feet, which means it can be really easy to run into something. The size of protected area for circling depends on the aircraft's approach speed, and generally speaking, the larger the aircraft, the faster the approach speed.

• Category A is for aircraft flying at 90 knots or less
• B: 91 - 120 knots
• C: 121 to-140 knots
• D: 141 - 166 knots
• E: 167 knots and above

The diagram shows an idealized runway environment. Many instrument approaches contain a notice that the circling is not allowed in certain areas around the airport, due to obstructions. And some approaches specify that circling is not authorized at night. The Telluride approach is a good example of both. But of greater interest is that the approach speed of a Lear 45 may have required category C minima, which are not authorized on this approach.

In a statement provided by the Pilot-In-Command (PIC), upon arrival to KTEX the weather was reported to be below minimums; the crew elected to hold over the Cones VOR and wait to see if weather conditions would improve. The crew was given instructions, by air traffic control, to hold as published and to expect further clearance (EFC) at 1630. When the weather improved to a visibility of 4 miles and a ceiling of 2300 feet, the PIC requested a descent and approach to KTEX. At approximately 4 miles from the airport, the pilot acquired the airport environment but was not in position to land, so he called for a missed approach back to Cones VOR.

If your destination airport is reporting conditions below minima, you are not prohibited under part 91 from attempting the approach. The accident aircraft was reportedly being repositioned under part 91, but the crew elected to adhere to part 135 and 121 requirements of not beginning the approach unless landing minima were being reported at the surface. They even waited until the weather improved to considerably better than the circling minima and they had a plan B, too. But things went South from there.

The pilot then requested a second attempt to land stating that "if we did not land, we would like to be sequenced to into KMTJ" Montrose Regional Airport Montrose, CO, their alternate airport. On the second approach, both crew members stated that they had acquired the runway environment; however, they were still too high for a visual approach. The crew elected to do a 360-degree, right, descending turn, in order to get in a better position for landing. On completion of the turn, they again affirmed the runway environment and that they were aligned with the extended centerline of the runway. The airplane touched down and after full thrust reversers were deployed, the nose gear collapsed. The airplane began to slide in snow and came to a stop about mid-field, in an upright position.

Let the Circle Be Unbroken

The preliminary accident reports stated that the accident aircraft actually failed to touch down on the runway, which is curious given that the localizer appears fairly well aligned with the runway centerline. Did the crew become distracted or disoriented by the poor visibility and blowing snow?

An on-scene investigation was conducted by a Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) inspector. The initial examination of the area indicated that the airplane had touched down about 20-feet to the right, of the runway. Additionally, the airplane's wings were torn from the fuselage and the tail section had separated just aft of the engines, during the contact with the ground.

...

Weather reported at KTEX 10 minutes prior to the accident was winds 260 degrees at 8 knots, visibility of 3 miles, scattered clouds at 400 feet, broken clouds at 2300 feet, temperature of 6 degrees Celsius, dew point of 6 degrees Celsius, and altimeter setting 29.85 inches of mercury.

Should you need to fly a circling approach, turn up the sensitivity on your spidey senses and consider some techniques that may prevent you from becoming an accident statistic.

If the surface winds are not aligned with the straight-in runway, you probably have a tailwind on the approach. Monitor your groundspeed carefully and consider configuring gear and flaps as necessary to control your groundspeed. Be prepared for a faster than normal speed when you break out and acquire visual references.

Slowing down will also aid you in the circling maneuver since a slower speed will give you a higher rate of turn and a smaller radius of turn with a shallower bank angle.

If the surface winds are high and you'll need to circle, you may want to go to your alternate. Even if the ceiling and visibility are above circling minima, high winds may just ruin your day.

Should you lose visual references while circling, don't kid yourself; it's time to get out of Dodge. Begin climbing, remaining in the protected circling area if necessary, and execute the missed approach ASAP.

Use the VASI and PAPI. If you stay on or above the glide path and within 10˚ of the centerline, you'll be guaranteed obstruction clearance within 4 miles of the threshold.

If ATC gives you advance notice of a need to circle, it will sound something like this:

Barnburner 123 is two miles from Mooselips, fly heading 230, maintain 3000 until established, cleared for the ILS 25, circle runway 7.

When landing at a towered airport, expect the controller to give you a cardinal direction to turn, such as:

Barnburner 123, at minimums, circle south, enter left traffic, runway 9.

Here is an illustration of various ways that a circling maneuver might be conducted, but keep in mind any circling restrictions at your particular destination.

If you have to fly the missed approach once, you may well be better off going to your alternate rather than risking a second approach. The risks of attempting multiple approaches to the same airport are subtle, but very real.

Circle-to-land maneuvers must be demonstrated on an instrument rating practical test and on an instrument proficiency check, so instrument-rated GA pilots should be familiar and proficient with the maneuver. But if the need arises for you to circle-to-land on a real-world instrument approach, be aware that you're doing something that entails more risk than a straight-in approach and landing. Like the accident flight crew, you may be better off executing Plan B and going to your alternate.