I'm a great fan of the side-slip crosswind approach on final, though I have to admit that it's more comfortable for passengers if the pilot holds the airplane in a crabbing approach as long as possible. I teach my students a combination.
I believe gusty crosswind days warrant a slightly longer final approach segment and always try to get the tower to let me swing my base out for, say, a two-mile final. The long approach makes it easier to establish a stable, crabbing final approach track straight to the runway. (I'll avoid saying "lined up with" because in fact, on a really windy day in a light airplane your nose may be pointed upriver at Fort Myers, Florida, a good 45 degrees off the runway centerline.)
As I descend within a half-mile of the runway, I'll kick hard rudder away from the wind and dip my aileron into the wind, shifting neatly into a sideslip. I shift to the sideslip a half-mile out for the same reason I like a long final on crosswind approaches, to give me a chance to stabilize my track. This time, though, my nose should be pointed straight down the runway centerline, and it's the combination of wing sailing into the wind and opposite rudder that holds the track for me.
Here's where the dancing begins. Because the wind is rarely steady, my craft may drift right or left of the runway centerline during the final few seconds of the approach. I have to respond quickly by modifying the control pressures on both the ailerons and rudder accordingly to correct back to center. It is easy to find yourself too far upwind in an instant between gusts, or suddenly downwind from a momentary blast of 10 extra knots across your nose.
High-wing airplanes, such as my Cessna 210 and Kitfox, are most vulnerable to gusty winds in the final few seconds of flight, particularly in the flare. I find that my rudder and aileron corrections have to be almost intuitive. I have no time to look at the windsock. Instead, I concentrate on the runway centerline, adjusting all my control pressures to bring it back into the imaginary target zone I've set directly ahead in my windscreen.
The perfect crosswind touchdown is the last part of the dance. Count: one (upwind main), two (downwind main), three (nosewheel or tailwheel) down on the ground. Touchdown should place no lurching sideloads on the landing gear. On touchdown my ailerons go immediately to full deflection into the wind and my elevator remains "nose up" until the airplane has slowed to taxi speed. If I had any flaps in (and often on a crosswind landing I will not) I retract them quickly to help the airplane settle firmly on the main gear and reduce my chances of weathervaning in a severe crosswind.
Taxiing on a gusty day is no time to relax. My Kitfox, a lightweight taildragger, has brought that lesson home. High-wing airplanes are at their most vulnerable in the flare at touchdown and when taxiing. In gusty winds the air seems to reach out and hammer up on the airplane's upwind lifting surfaces and tries to flip it, or at least ground loop its nose around and into the wind.
Pilots who get lazy about using wind correction controls on the ground are only waiting for that one blustery afternoon to learn that lesson. Better to remember that wind circle diagram tucked into the "Normal Operating Procedures" section of nearly every airplane's pilot operating handbook and do it, don't you think?
Most pilots I know relish the adrenaline high that comes from a good round of crosswind landings. I look outside and see Old Glory straining at her grommets some 30 feet up on the fire station's flagpole. Another great day for dancing, I think.
