A distracting solo cross-country
I barely slept the night before the flight, thinking about every step. I'd gone over the flight plan, estimating winds aloft, planning approaches to the destination's landing runways for left-hand and right-hand patterns, and something my instructor had been focusing on -- radio calls.
I arrived at North Las Vegas Airport an hour early. I had a sectional chart in a fancy clipboard and cheat notes for the radio calls to stick all over the cockpit. I looked up the latest METARs, TAFs, winds and temperatures aloft, and pilot reports. I sat down in the pilot lounge, took off my cool new aviation sunglasses, opened my brand-new flight bag, and pulled out a new E6B. Not only was I going to fly like a pro, but I was going to look like one, too.
I worked out the course to Mesquite Airport using two different types of flight-planning sheets. (I wanted to impress George, my instructor, with my thoroughness. He just raised an eyebrow and said, "OK....") George carefully walked me through the flight. We went over the flight plan, takeoff runways, Class Bravo frequencies, and radio calls. Nothing could stop me now.
I walked out to N9572H, the flight school's Cessna 172N, carrying new charts, yoke clips, kneeboards, sticky notes, flashlights, timers, and every other gadget that pilots can find on the Internet. I climbed into the pilot's seat with all tools I thought I needed for the perfect flight. It took 15 minutes to clip, stick, set, and place all the stuff I'd brought. I was having a great time.
I worked my way through the checklist, started the engine, and made the first radio call. No problem; ground control gave me a runway and Class Bravo clearance, and added, "Have a good flight." I was full of confidence.
I took off...solo. Never had I felt so free and in command of my destiny. The 67-mile leg to Mesquite Airport went smoothly. All the gadgets were counting and ticking away. The GPS was giving me a full-color map of my location -- sweet. As I approached the airport I looked at the flight plan and made a call on the controlled traffic advisory frequency for Runway 19, touch and go. As I released the push-to-talk switch the radio traffic piled up. What did I say? Were they talking to me? They were. Traffic was using Runway 1. I checked all my notes and charts, and I realized that I had spent so much time messing around with gadgets that I hadn't heeded George's last words, "Get updated weather before you go." My weather info was almost two hours old.
For a few seconds my head was swimming. This wasn't supposed to happen on my perfect flight! I scanned all the sticky notes, timers, and charts, and then I got a hold of myself. Remember your training. Listen to the radio, follow the traffic pattern, and declare your intentions. After a few seconds of intense listening I got the gist of the pattern in use, checked the windsock to confirm it, and made a touch and go on Runway 1.
Confidence a bit shaken, I proceeded on my flight plan back to North Las Vegas. As I looked around the cockpit I collected some of the sticky notes and one of the three timers and put them in my bag. Fewer cockpit distractions, and now I could see the compass. After a few minutes I was feeling in control again. A few miles out was the Nellis Air Force Base Class Bravo airspace.
Closing in on Bravo airspace, I called Nellis Approach on the frequency I had jotted on a sticky note. I was immediately instructed to switch to the correct approach frequency. Once again, I was stunned; how could I have made such a dumb mistake? The controller then screamed, "Seven-Two-Hotel, did you copy?"
I stammered, "Roger, could you repeat the frequency again?" The controller came back as if speaking to a 3-year-old: "One-three-five point one. Do you copy?" I would have copied if my cool new pen holder hadn't fallen to the floor as I reached for it. The controller screamed again, "Seven-Two-Hotel, do you copy?"
"Roger," I said, "changing frequency to one-five-three point one." I was dying.
"Seven-Two-Hotel, change your radio to one -- three -- five -- point -- one. Do you copy?"
"Roger, one three five point one, Seven-Two-Hotel." More sticky notes got tossed to the floor, and another timer went in the flight bag, as well as the new $65 olive-drab flight gloves.
I opened the air vents and took a deep breath. Settle down, I told myself. Fly the airplane, stick to the flight plan. I changed frequencies and with a trembling thumb pushed the button. "Nellis Approach, Seven-Two-Hotel is with you at 6,500 to North Las Vegas Airport with Tango."
I released the button and held my breath.
"Roger, Seven-Two-Hotel. Proceed VFR to North Las Vegas, squawk zero-two-one-four." I followed the instructions and read back correctly. I slowly let air back into my chest.
Approaching North Las Vegas, I was cleared for the frequency change to the tower. No problem. I made the frequency change and, not willing to make the same mistake again, listened to the traffic. The controller was very busy handling traffic, and it took a few tries to get in.
I was given instructions for a 3,500-foot approach altitude and a left turn for Runway 21 Right, and I acknowledged. I made my turn for a half-mile final and was told I was number three to land. I hesitated before reading back instructions, and other traffic stepped on my transmission. The controller came back, "Seven-Two-Hotel, read back instructions." Was this flight never going to end?
"Seven-Two-Hotel, change to Runway One-Two Left, straight in, cleared to land." I sheepishly replied, "One-Two Left, Seven-Two-Hotel." Instantly I knew my mistake. "Seven-Two-Hotel, read back all instructions now." I read back the landing instructions verbatim and focused on landing as quickly and safely as possible, knowing it would be over soon.
As I was turning onto Taxiway Hotel the tower instructed me to turn on Hotel to Delta to Charlie. At this point, all I heard was blah, blah, blah. I pulled off the runway past the hold-short line and frantically started looking for my airport directory. The tower was calling. I lost my cool glasses, new headsets, everything I had was flying around the inside of that airplane. It must have looked like a blender from the outside.
The controller finally said, "Just turn right." I got my bearings and steered the little Cessna to the ramp. The last radio call I received was "Seven-Two-Hotel, stand by to copy a phone number." I thought I couldn't lose anything more by asking him to repeat the number.
As I parked the airplane, I felt as if it was the last time I'd ever fly. Would they pull my student certificate? Would my instructor or the flight school drop me? Could I be fined? I was sure all that would happen.
After securing the airplane I pulled out my cell phone and made the call.
"Tower."
"This is Seven-Two-Hotel, I was asked to call this number."
"We really need you to read back instructions to the controller."
"I understand. I'm a student pilot on my first cross-country solo. I was a little confused."
"Yes, where did you go?"
"Mesquite."
"Nice flight, isn't it?"
I was shocked. I was now talking to the nicest guy in the world. He asked me how my flight went, if I had any questions about the airspace, and was the first to congratulate me on my first solo cross-country. He didn't let me off the hook completely; he said it was important to follow communication procedures and that they were here to keep things safe. He gave me his name and said I could call him anytime. We're all in this together.
After a long talk with my instructor, listening to traffic over the scanner, and a good night's sleep, I realized that my worst day in the air actually had been one of my best, and I couldn't wait to get back up in Seven-Two-Hotel. One thing changed: The only gadgets I fly with now are a kneeboard and flight computer. I might not look the coolest, but I'm managing information, staying ahead of the airplane, and sounding competent on the radio. After all, we're in this together.
"Learning Experiences" is presented to enhance safety by providing a forum for students and pilots to learn from the experiences of others. It is intended to provoke thought and discussion, acknowledging that actions taken by the authors were not necessarily the best choices under the circumstances. We encourage you to discuss any questions you have about a particular scenario with your flight instructor.
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