Waypoints

The twilight reluctantly gave up its hold on the late October sunset, leaving the small northwestern Pennsylvania airport in a blackness darker than the deepest coal mine. Every few seconds the sweeping white-and-green beam from the rotating beacon atop the main hangar arced across the ramp.

With the conditions finally really right for night flying, John Julian, the world's most unflappable instructor, and I toted our flashlights out to the gold-and-white Cessna 150 for a thorough preflight. This would be my third night lesson and first night cross-country flight.

Soon the dim runway lights fell away and our Royalite-filled world was lit by the pale red cockpit light shining down from the overhead. We motored north beneath a high overcast.

After about 30 minutes, the glow of a city rose over the horizon, with an inky blackness beyond punctuated here and there by dim lights — freighters traversing Lake Erie. I picked up the mic and, after carefully rehearsing what I wanted to say, nervously called Erie Approach Control. The friendly controller gave us a squawk code and cleared us into his airspace just as I caught sight of the airport beacon amid an ocean of lights. We journeyed on and soon received vectors to the final approach, a novelty to a student used to uncontrolled airports and no radar service. We cleared the runway with instructions to contact ground control on "Point Nine." I looked quizzically at John, who explained that the controller meant 121.9 MHz. In those days, now nearly 20 years ago, virtually all ground control frequencies started with 121; many still do, but it was a new one on me.

We followed what seemed like a labyrinth system of taxiways back to the end of the runway, where I timidly croaked at the tower controller for takeoff clearance. This time it was a touch-and-go and finally a turn to the south for the dark ride home, where I knew John would suggest that I land with the landing light off. "It may not work for you some night; you should practice without it," he wisely advised. Of course, he was right; and I've been surprised lots of times since then at night when I've flipped the landing light switch and nothing happened. But, I can land safely — although not elegantly — at night without a light. Thanks, John.

More than 15 years would go by before I would have a reason to return to Erie International. This time it would be on a return trip from visiting Diamond Aircraft in London, Ontario. With U.S. Customs service right on the field, Erie looked like an attractive stopping point on the way home. Trouble was, the telephone line to Erie Customs was continuously busy, and after much frustration, I gave up and pointed the Beech Bonanza toward another Customs airport. Nonetheless, the still- friendly Erie controllers provided helpful vectors around some jumbo thunderstorms that knocked the power out at the Erie VOR, causing all sorts of air traffic disruptions.

Two years go by and its time for another Diamond visit. This time the weather's better, and so is my luck. Erie Customs answers on the first ring.

We're approaching the shore of Lake Erie from the north as Erie International materializes out of the haze. We touch down and bear right to clear the runway and taxi straight ahead, looking for the Customs building. "It's the one at 12 o'clock," says the ground controller, too polite to point out the big "U.S. Customs" sign on it.

We park in front of the modern building and are greeted by a smiling — yes, smiling — Customs agent who quickly takes care of the paperwork and sends us on our way. We're airborne 20 minutes after landing.

So I'm already prone to warm and fuzzy thoughts of Erie, Pennsylvania, when two weeks later a fax lands on my desk. "Are you concerned about flying into a tower-controlled airport? Interested in improving your ATC communications skills? Or just wanting to become more familiar with the world on the other side of your radio receiver?"

The flyer, from the controllers at Erie, urges pilots from the region to come by and use the Erie radar facilities. "Practice instrument approaches (both VFR and IFR), are encouraged at Erie...Erie Tower is a great place to visit, tour the facility and enjoy a delicious cup of coffee on the house...or, Tower, that is!"

Free coffee from the FAA — don't let the General Accounting Office hear about that one.

Tower Manager Rich Pelkowski, along with other managers and union members at the facility, teamed up to produce the campaign, which is particularly targeted toward flight schools in the region. Of course, the extra operations can help the facility maintain its traffic count, which determines how funding is allocated. But the campaign is also a method for fostering and promoting aviation, something with which the FAA has been tasked all these years. And although the agency has all but ignored the "promotion" side of its charter, the Department of Transportation believes the mere presence of the language in the document is somehow a threat in the wake of the ValuJet accident. Look for the micromanagers at DOT to attempt to strike the language.

Meanwhile, far from the political epicenter in Washington, Dana Young, Erie Tower's quality assurance training specialist, says, "We like working airplanes; that's why we're here. Controllers often get a bad reputation. We want to show pilots what it's like on this side of the mic."

So, while the political posturing goes on ad nauseam in Washington, remember that there are still a few places where the service is good and the coffee is free.