Waypoints

"Plan the flight and fly the plan." It's one of those throwaway lines that you hear pilots tossing about — sort of like saying upon landing, "Cheated death again" or "Another triumph for aviation."

The trouble with the first one is that it suggests that the preflight planning you did has significant relevance once you are in the air. In reality, your preflight planning might better be called takeoff planning. Once you're airborne, what you see is what you've got; your preflight planning at that point becomes only a general guide as, mile by mile and minute by minute, you maneuver your craft to a safe landing at the intended destination or perhaps at another location.

I'm surprised at the number of pilots I talk to who carefully plan each and every flight and then take off with the complete expectation that they will — in fact, must — make the flight as outlined during the preflight planning process. Not only can this mentality be dangerous if the weather is worse than forecast, it can also mean that pilots do not get the utility out of their aircraft that they should.

A better method is to plan the flight and then adjust as necessary once you get in the air.

Three of us were scheduled to make a trip from AOPA's headquarters at Frederick, Maryland, to Wichita, a trip of about 1,000 nautical miles. An enormous high pressure system dominated the entire middle and eastern sections of the country, providing CAVU conditions over the entire route. On the day of departure, one of the three, who was also the pilot of the Mitsubishi MU-2 that we were scheduled to fly, woke up sick. The other two of us had a couple of choices: cancel the trip, take the airlines (at about $1,000 each), or fly a Mooney. With the excellent weather conditions along the route and the same conditions expected to hold for several days, the decision was easy. We quickly confirmed the weather, grabbed some charts, and headed west in the Mooney.

Our original plan was to stop for fuel in Mount Vernon, Illinois, located about halfway between Evansville, Indiana, and St. Louis. (A Pavlovian response kicked in: We knew from previous experience that Flightline Aero Services at Mount Vernon offers delicious fresh-baked cookies to those who buy fuel.) However, the plan became worthless shortly after takeoff when the GPS showed a groundspeed of less than 100 knots, indicating much greater headwinds than forecast. We tried a lower altitude to duck under the worst of the winds. The speed didn't pick up, but the turbulence sure did. Finally, we went to 8,500 feet to escape the punishing bumps and accepted whatever speed we could muster.

With our double-digit groundspeed, we would not make Mount Vernon with a comfortable fuel margin. Using a chart, AOPA's Airport Directory, and the GPS's database, we began crafting a new plan. Ultimately we decided on Bedford, Indiana, located about 50 nm northeast of Mount Vernon. The friendly staff at Indiana Aircraft Service on Bedford's Virgil I. Grissom Municipal loaned us a bruised but serviceable Chevy Chevette for the quick trip into town for lunch. An hour later we were headed west again into diminishing headwinds.

A day and a half later, the same high pressure dominated the route as we headed home. You'd think that after plowing through headwinds for eight hours or so, we'd get a push on the way home, and yet it seldom works that way. We leveled off after departing Wichita's Colonel James Jabara Field, to find the groundspeed at about 140 knots, 10 shy of the older Mooney's typical true airspeed in cruise.

We had built a contingency into our preflight plan. It was midafternoon Central time when we departed Wichita. We would lose an hour as we proceeded east. We had completed a busy day of meetings. Our plan was to fly all of the way home that night unless we decided not to — such is the versatility that comes from flying GA. After a few hours of droning along and as the sun set behind us, we decided to exercise our contingency and spend the night just north of Louisville, Kentucky. We dodged the very tall towers just west of Clark County Airport near Jeffersonville, Indiana, and taxied to Aircraft Specialists — a terrific, modern FBO with a helpful and enthusiastic staff. They loaned us a new Dodge Neon for the short drive to the Days Inn.

We were back at the airport before dawn the next morning to complete the trip home. We took off just as the sun crested the horizon, lighting up the thin layer of fog that had developed over the Ohio River and other nearby valleys. In places along the river, only the smokestacks from the power plants protruded through the fog. There is no better time to fly than early on a cool and calm morning.

The rolling hills of Kentucky turned into the mountains of West Virginia, and fewer than three hours after takeoff we touched down, almost in time to make it to the office on time.

Plan the flight and then fly the flight. Head for your destination with the willingness to trash the plan at any point if conditions in the dynamic atmosphere demand it. Conditions in the cockpit can change, as well. We left Wichita not feeling tired, but after a few hours, it became obvious that we were not up for a landing back home at midnight after more than seven hours of flying.

In too many cases, pilots plan the flight and then attempt to fly the plan, no matter what happens. Last November, a new private pilot without an instrument rating and flying his brand-new Commander 114B took off with his family on board for a flight from Key West Florida, to his home base in Tallahasee, Florida. Severe weather along his route finally forced him to land in central Florida. He waited out the weather overnight, but even the next morning the weather persisted. He made several impatient calls to flight service. The briefers advised him of IFR conditions along the route. Later in the morning things improved a bit, with marginal VFR conditions prevailing at the destination, but instrument conditions along the route. At that first suggestion of improving weather, he launched VFR into what everyone else in the area described as instrument meteorological conditions. He leveled off and claimed to ATC that he was in VFR conditions. He maneuvered for a while, and then his radar track disappeared from the scopes. The three people on board died when the new and highly capable airplane crashed in a swamp. Remarkably, the area of weather by that point was very small. Had he maintained control of the aircraft a few minutes longer he would have been through the weather. Or better yet, if he had only turned on the autopilot to keep the wings level, he might have lived to learn from his mistakes. Sure, it was illegal for him to be flying in the clouds without an instrument rating, but he needn't have paid such a high price for his mistakes. He had a plan to get home; he just didn't have the skill to execute it or the judgment not to.

Likewise, the pilot of a Long-EZ homebuilt launched on an early March Sunday from southern Baja California, Mexico, to return to Southern California. Others in his group decided to wait out a cold front that was slowly dragging itself across the peninsula. Turbulence, low visibilities, rain, and ice were in the day's forecast. However, Monday's outlook called for good VFR conditions.

According to reports from several other aircraft traversing the area, the Long-EZ pilot tried various altitudes in an attempt to get through the weather — sometimes into the flight levels, even though he had no oxygen on board. The aircraft's GPS was broken before he ever entered Mexico and it was marginally equipped for VFR navigation, let alone flight in instrument conditions. Eventually radio communication was lost (there is no radar coverage in that area). The pilot was reported missing. It wasn't until several days later that fishermen reported seeing parts of the airplane floating in the Sea of Cortez.

One of the greatest assets of general aviation is the ability to come and go when you want. But with that flexibility comes the responsibility to be adaptable in your decision making — both on the ground and in the air — to account for changing conditions. If you're uncomfortable, change your plan.

Plan the flight and then fly the flight, understanding that your plan is just that — a plan.

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