A Cross-Country X-C

When I began to hang out at airports as a teenager, I was amazed at how many people were flying across the country. Day after day I heard student pilots saying that they were going out on "cross-country" flights; who would have thought that a Cessna 172 could make such an incredible journey?

I began to catch on when those same pilots returned in just a few hours. Obviously "cross-country" meant something different than "ocean to ocean." But the seed was planted, and last summer it bore fruit. I finally made the flight that I thought everyone was making years ago: from the Atlantic to the Pacific and back in a Cessna 172. It was truly the trip of a lifetime and the fulfillment of a 35-year dream.

I made a few key decisions that set the tone for the entire adventure. First, I was not going to hurry; I had a month's vacation, and I intended to use it all. Second, I had only a few stops fixed in my mind; every other place would be what felt right at the time. Third, while my airplane and I are both IFR certified, I would not do any "hard" IFR (at least, not intentionally). Fourth, I would be open to learning as I went — learning from others, learning from the country, and learning from my airplane. And finally, I was going to have fun.

I have heard over and over that a long trip is just a series of short trips, one after another. In one sense, that is obviously true: You take off, fly for a while, and land on every trip. But a long trip is different too; just wait until you buy the charts! My standing in a local FBO, listing the sectional charts I wanted — starting with New York and Washington, then adding Detroit, St. Louis, Kansas City, Wichita, Albuquerque, Phoenix, and Los Angeles — brought the room to a complete standstill, and a tremendous grin to my face. You just don't hear that every day at a New Jersey airport.

My 'Must Have' List

• Laptop computer and a portable printer, with Ethernet and dial-up ports, and all the right cables.
• An Internet service that is accessible from anywhere without additional charge.
• AOPA's Real-Time Flight Planner loaded on the computer.
• A camera, and if it is digital, the right cords to download pictures onto the laptop. Not just to empty the memory card, but also to see how the pictures are coming out and to e-mail the best ones to friends and family.
• A list of the toll-free numbers for every FSS in the country, since a cell phone may connect you to your home-area-code FSS no matter where you are. You can find these numbers in the 2005-2006 edition of AOPA's Airport Directory, AOPA's Airport Directory online, in the corresponding airport/facility directory, or on the AOPA Flight Training Web site.
• A list of the awards programs for hotels along your route; many hotels give you nicer rooms just for being enrolled.
• A few books you've been meaning to read for years.
• Patience, a sense of adventure, and a sense of humor. — DAW

The grin had not faded by the time I got home and spread out the charts across our den floor. My family watched as I read off city names and matched chart edges to each other, and we all noticed how the colors changed — radically — as we got farther west. Living in the metropolitan New York area, the tallest obstructions I face are buildings, not mountains, and the highest I had ever flown was 8,500 feet. Looking at maximum elevation figures of more than 10,000 feet, I realized I had more to do than simply plot a course.

AOPA Online's message boards were a tremendous help, and I recommend them highly. I posted a message asking for advice on the best route through the mountains, and I received a number of very helpful responses giving routes, airports, and suggestions. One wonderful young California flight instructor went so far as to plot the route in AOPA's Real-Time Flight Planner, save the image, and e-mail it to me. I received advice on leaning the engine, on where to land, and on what to see along the way. Without leaving New Jersey, I had a round-table discussion with pilots across America.

Lesson one: When flying in unfamiliar territory, talk with people who have flown there.

When I started to plan out the route itself, I realized something else that was different from my normal 100-mile cross-country: My "aiming point" was eight sectionals away from my starting point. No plotter, ruler, yardstick, or ball of twine was going to work to plan this route; I needed to see the big picture.

That helpful California flight instructor had given me a routing from Lubbock, Texas, to San Diego, so I fired up AOPA's Real-Time Flight Planner and entered my home base as the starting point and Lubbock as my destination. Not only did the RTFP draw out my route, but also it calculated the great-circle distance. I always knew what the great-circle distance was, but I had never needed it before, and the graceful, curved line across the eastern United States was so cool I printed it out to show everyone. I did not yet know where I would land along the way, but I knew where I was going.

Lesson two: AOPA's Real-Time Flight Planner is a gem, and we get it for free.

A month in advance, everything was set. My wife, Shira, had only two weeks' vacation, so she made an airline reservation to California, to arrive 10 days after I was scheduled to leave New Jersey. We planned to stay in the Los Angeles area for three days, so even if I was held up along the way, she would have a hotel and a rental car while she waited. No pressure, no worries. Or so I thought.

Friends, family, and members of my congregation were all interested in our plans, but many looked at us as if we were volunteering for a suicide mission. Around the twentieth time that someone gave me a concerned look and told me to "fly safely, please," I started to formulate nasty responses ("no, I will not fly safely!"); but I controlled myself and never shared them. However, the effect of their comments was cumulative: By the week before my trip, I was beginning to have doubts. Could I really do this? Should I really do this? My longest trips had been less than one day's flying from home; was I really ready to go to California?

Two days before I left, my AOPA ePilot newsletter arrived. The calendar said there would be a pedal-steel-guitar jam at Washington County Airport, just south of Pittsburgh. I called, arranged a hotel and a ride, and I had my first destination. The jam was great, the people were truly helpful, and as I sat on a folding chair listening to four steel guitars, I began to relax and have fun.

Each night, upon checking into the hotel, I used the Real-Time Flight Planner to figure out the next day's agenda. Figuring on about 300 nm per day, I used the RTFP and sectionals to locate interesting places to fly and then called the FBOs to make sure they had fuel, to find a hotel, and to arrange transportation. I was surprised to learn how many FBOs have arrangements with local hotels for special "pilot rates," and a few times the hotels gave me a room when they were technically sold out. I also learned how to ask discreetly if an airport car was available: Just ask if the FBO can help you arrange transportation to and from the hotel. If a car is available it will be offered; otherwise, the FBO will help you find a rental car or other van service. Having done most of my flying in metropolitan New York, the helpfulness and cheerfulness of everyone I met were a little disconcerting, but refreshing!

Lesson three: Go with the flow; the experiences you plan won't be half as much fun as the ones that pop up.

The only real problem we had with the weather was one I had not anticipated, and it taught me a lesson, too. Having watched The Weather Channel for months beforehand, I knew I would have to deal with East Coast haze, Midwest storms, and the Pacific marine layer. The weather of least concern to me was in the Southwest; after all, what could the weather be in the desert, in the summer, other than hot and dry? Those of you familiar with the area are chuckling now, as you think "monsoon season." Imagine my surprise when, sitting in a Las Vegas restaurant at sundown, we saw clouds rolling in. Of course, every pilot, flight service station (FSS) briefer, and taxi driver was able to tell us about the afternoon and evening storms, which pop up in the desert almost every day in July...if only we had known to ask. Fortunately, those same people all told us how to handle the monsoons: Fly early — very early. Be on the ground before noon, and watch nature's pyrotechnics from your hotel room window.

Lesson four: When you are planning a long trip, ask people to tell you what you don't know enough to ask.

Flying three or four hours each day taught me two things: One, my Cessna's seats are not nearly as comfortable as I thought they were; and, two, it takes some mental readjustment to realize that you are not "almost there" — not on today's flight, and not on your whole flight. I know this is no surprise to those who routinely make multi-hour flights, but for us weekend pilots whose average trip is an hour or so, three hours is a long time to sit in one place. I developed a series of stretching exercises, which I did every hour, and I gave myself the time to stretch my mind, too. While I still did my best to stay ahead of the airplane, I also luxuriated in the scenery and in the simple joy of flying. A year's worth of stress melted away as I stopped worrying about what would happen next, and simply enjoyed what was happening now.

Lesson five: Short flights are about taking off and landing; long flights are about flying.

On the eighth day, near the end of my flight from Scottsdale, Arizona, to San Diego, I was busy trying to lose altitude after crossing the mountains that border the Southern California basin. Cleared for a straight-in to Montgomery Field, I looked out and saw water: the Pacific Ocean. Having accepted that I was not "almost there" for more than a week, it took my breath away to realize that I was there.

As I was walking to the office, another pilot said hello and asked where I was coming in from. As casually as I could, I said, "New Jersey." Looking at a Cessna Citation on the ramp, he asked if it was my airplane. "No, that is," I said, pointing to my 172. He looked at the airplane, looked back at me, and just said, "Wow." I could not have agreed more.

That night, I sent an e-mail to friends and family who had been following my adventures. I ended it with this paragraph:

"I cannot describe the sense of accomplishment I feel, having flown from sea to sea. I not only remember each flight, but I know what I learned on each one. There's a cautionary note among pilots that 100 hours of flying can either be 100 hours of experience or one hour flown 100 times. I can honestly say I got 25 hours of experience this week, and I am looking forward to another 25 or so on the way back."

Lesson six: If I can do it, so can you. Go for it.

Rabbi Donald A. Weber, AOPA 424032, flies his Cessna 172 from Old Bridge Airport in Englishtown, New Jersey, where he is the AOPA Airport Support Network volunteer.