The heat on the ramp was intense, and I was chug-a-lugging my second diet cola in Fresno Jet Center's lounge during a fuel stop in California's broad San Joaquin Valley. A Diamond Katana purred to a stop in front of the lounge, and its propeller ticked to a halt. Moments later, a blonde, pony-tailed young lady hopped out, donned her knapsack, and quickly strode toward the air-conditioned oasis. The teenager approached the desk, requested fuel, and asked the attendant to sign her student pilot's logbook. I recall thinking that general aviation still has a chance to survive as long as it continues to attract such youthful enthusiasm.
The girl sat across the table from me, spread out her sectional chart, and began to review the next leg of her solo cross-country flight. It brought memories of plotted courses, carefully selected checkpoints, wind triangles, and other navigational necessities that seem less important as experience accrues.
Just as I was about to ask the young lady if I could be of assistance, she reached into her knapsack, pulled out a handheld GPS receiver (with moving-map display), and began to input waypoints for the next leg of her flight.
I was stunned. Attempting to remain as unobtrusive as possible, I stood and inspected her chart more carefully. There were no plotted courses or highlighted checkpoints, which made me wonder if her instructor knew that she was relying on GPS to find her way. I wanted to talk to this student about flight planning, but before I could gather the courage, she packed her knapsack, paid her bill, and was gone.
Was I being too critical? I don't think so. Like VOR and ADF, GPS is an aid to navigation. It should not be considered as the sole means of navigation, especially by student pilots who need to develop a sturdy foundation of pilotage and dead reckoning.
I am grateful that the Aeronca in which I learned to fly during the 1950s did not have a VOR receiver. Getting from A to B required correlating features on the ground with those on the chart.
To this day, I attempt to maintain those pilotage skills. During my last flight from Los Angeles to the Grand Canyon, for example, I used a yardstick to plot a direct course and then applied wind and compass corrections. After departure, I turned to the calculated heading, turned off the radios, and practiced map reading until my destination appeared on the horizon a few hours later. When using navaids (including GPS), I still follow plotted courses and practice pilotage. The most reliable elements in navigation aren't Collins and King; they're compass and clock.
Some pilots, however, regard GPS as their only means of navigation. They take off, enter the destination in the computer, and proceed direct without so much as a chart in sight. This is not an exaggeration. A few months ago, I met a pilot planning to fly a Piper single to Resolute Island in Canada's Northwest Territories. He said that he had always wanted to fly to the north magnetic pole. Having logged my share of hours in the Arctic, I was curious to know how he intended to navigate in that vast area where a conventional compass is useless. Instead of pointing insistently toward magnetic north, it wallows and drifts aimlessly.
The pilot nonchalantly informed me that he would use GPS to navigate directly to the Pole. He seemed proud that he had developed a technique that would allow him to proceed without needing a compass, or even a sense of direction. All he had to do, he said, was to enter the destination coordinates in his GPS computer and go direct. He would remain precisely on course simply by pointing the nose of his airplane as necessary to keep the CDI centered.
Would this work? Yes, it would, but God forbid a GPS failure. Without the ability to determine direction based on the bearing of the sun at a given time of day (using an astrocompass), he could wind up flying without guidance until running out of fuel and then disappearing in the frozen expanse.
This obviously is an unusual example of how some pilots sidestep fundamental navigation in favor of GPS. It indicates, however, a growing and dangerous attitude. Many pilots believe that GPS renders pass� the art and science of conventional planning and navigation. Satellite navigation is so easy and accurate that they are more willing to undertake routes not considered practical or safe prior to the GPS revolution.
Two years ago, my closest friend, Hal Fishman, and I were flying his Beech B36TC Bonanza from Los Angeles to Reno, Nevada, and fell victim to the allure and efficiency of direct navigation. After takeoff, we entered RNO in the GPS and began tracking the direct route. It wasn't long, however, before we discovered that we were flying along the lofty and rugged spine of the Sierra Nevada range and would remain there for the duration of the flight. We looked at one another, discussed our limited options in case of an engine failure, and wisely shifted track to fly over the eastern edge of California's flat and lengthy Central Valley. This demonstrates the importance of planning flights with respect to the safest, and not necessarily the shortest, routes. Then, as the adage goes, we must fly the plan.
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