Learning Experiences

Night flying without GPS

Ever since receiving my private pilot certificate in 2004, I have been hooked on flying. It's so bad I still practice the aviation alphabet by calling out the license plate of the vehicle in front of me when stuck in traffic. In order to continue improving, I try to fly as often as my budget and time will allow, which usually works out to a few times a month.

In October 2005 I found a good excuse to take a daylong solo trip from Tallahassee to Gainesville, Florida, for a business meeting. The flight over would be an easy daytime jaunt, and the meeting would run into the evening, so I would get some night flight time on the way back. Weather on the days prior had been instrument meteorological conditions, and I did not yet have an instrument rating. It's amazing how much more in tune to the weather and sky conditions one is after becoming a pilot, so you can imagine my joy when, promptly at noon on the day of the trip the last dregs of the morning clouds burned off, leaving a clear blue sky. The weather so far matched the standard briefing I received earlier in the day.

My piloting experiences to date had only included three models of single-engine aircraft--a Grumman Tiger, a Piper Warrior, and a Cessna 172N. I had rented the Cessna for the day. The Cessna was equipped with two VOR receivers and a non-functioning automatic direction finder (ADF), but no GPS receiver. The other two airplanes had GPS-capable navigation systems, and during my training GPS was the navigation method of choice for most of the flying. For this flight I had brought along a handheld GPS with a suction-cup mount that I used to place the PDA-sized unit on the inside of the left windshield.

After the takeoff on Runway 36 I was permitted to continue on course toward Gainesville on a heading of 115 degrees. The turn from the north to the southeast afforded me an excellent view of the nearby university's football stadium, where a game was under way. I made sure to stay on course and avoid any inkling to ATC that I was straying anywhere near the temporary flight restriction (TFR) in place around the major sporting event. The handheld GPS made this very easy as all I had to do was stay on the solid line that pointed to the destination airport.

The flight to Gainesville was uneventful and relaxing. The grumpy air traffic controller in Tallahassee even gave me VFR flight following without my having to ask, which I thought was a nice gesture. Listening to the controller tersely communicate with another pilot who wasn't too quick on the replies is always an entertaining pastime, and it encourages me to be efficient in my own radio work. After being switched finally to the Gainesville tower I performed a decent landing on Runway 25 and taxied to the ramp, where a friend picked me up and whisked me away to the meeting.

I returned to the FBO around 10 p.m. to be greeted by a slight rain shower. In the world of a VFR pilot, clouds are objects of intense respect and healthy fear, especially at night. I proceeded to the local pilot resource center and verified with the standard briefing and radar that the cell currently over the area was small, and moving away from my planned route. Tallahassee was reporting 10 miles and clear with a slight breeze from the northeast. Perfect. After 15 minutes the cell moved away, and I could see stars. I preflighted the airplane and used the CTAF to announce my taxi, takeoff, and departure heading to whomever wanted to listen. It's strange to fly into an airport under tower control and then depart during its nontowered hours.

I cleared the traffic pattern airspace and climbed to 2,500 feet on a heading of 300 degrees that would take me home. I am still a bit nervous when flying at night--concerns about losing ground references or losing vision with exposure to bright lights is a bit disconcerting.

Turning on the handheld GPS unit, I realized in a short time that the batteries were drained and therefore the GPS would not help tonight. Hmmm...OK, so do I just wimp out and fly back to Gainesville, and make the trip during daylight hours? No, I have clear skies, a reasonably straight-shot heading, and the VOR receivers to help confirm the route. I marked the current time and knew that, assuming I kept on a reasonable track, within 60 minutes or so I should be close to Tallahassee.

I spent the next 45 minutes tuning in VORs along the route and using the sectional to estimate where I was heading. I must admit that the uncertainty factor does increase when the reassuring track line of a GPS is removed from your bag of tricks. There's a big difference between using a VOR briefly during a checkride or training to show you can do it--and having to do it to confirm your position during a night flight. So I was already feeling a bit of trepidation when, lo and behold, a thin fog bank started to form below. I was at first struck by the beauty of how lights are diffused when glowing through a fog layer--and then I was concerned about possibly flying into IMC at night. Luckily I still had the stars above me and the fog layer was patchy, allowing me the occasional peek at the ground.

It's funny how, even several months after my checkride and flight instruction, I felt that my instructor was still sitting next to me on a solo night flight, dispensing wisdom as I was presented with real-world problems to solve. Should I continue on into possible instrument conditions? Bail and run back to Gainesville? I had topped off the tanks in Gainesville, so I knew I had three more hours of flight time to find a place to land. Should I descend and hope to find a recognizable structure for dead reckoning? About that time I passed by a lighted tower that peaked at 1,500 feet--two-thirds of it were invisible below the fog layer, and the top portion was sticking above the layer with the beacon creating a pleasant and highly visible circular strobe. I decided to continue flying and remain above the fog, avoiding any possible hidden tall structures.

Sixty minutes into the flight with a broken fog bank below and clear sky above, I still had no real idea where I was. The balls of light from homes, cars, and street lamps diffused by the clouds didn't help at all. Without GPS there was no pretty moving map to show me my exact position. The VORs gave me an approximation of where I was, and this time I had to actually trust them to guide me home. I tuned the Seminole VOR and intercepted the 090-degree radial, knowing my 270-degree course would guide me directly to the VOR. I also knew the VOR was 10 miles due north of Tallahassee Regional Airport, and the fact that I was on the 270 inbound course meant that I had drifted slightly northward from the original heading. Gee, if I hadn't used this VOR for navigation I would have overshot Tallahassee to the north. I also picked up ATIS for Tallahassee Regional, which indicated a broken layer at 1,000 feet and clear above.

I decided then to continue, using the VOR as my navigation device. As if coming across an underwater city, eventually I flew toward some large patches of lighted fog cover, which I reasoned had to be the outskirts and then the main metropolitan area of Tallahassee. The breaks in the fog revealed occasional views of streets and neighborhoods, but without the complete view and daylight I really couldn't fly by dead reckoning and didn't dare descend below the fog layer. I swung off the 270-degree heading to 240 degrees, reasoning that as I flew southwest toward the airport and away from the VOR the "TO" heading would deflect toward the north.

Sure enough, it crept toward 360 degrees, and I "reckoned" I was near the airport. I was already on the Tallahassee CTAF (the tower was closed by this time) and had been asking for airport advisories just to make sure others nearby knew my intentions. I did a slow seven-click on the transmit button, and off to my left Runway 27 lit up beautifully through a break in the fog. Whew! VOR navigation really works! I announced my approach to Runway 27 and descended, slipping a bit to bleed off the excess altitude. I landed with a bit of crosswind correction and safely taxied to the FBO's ramp.

Now this may seem like a "milk run" flight to seasoned pilots, but for me it was my GPS appreciation flight--a real confidence-booster. My flight instructor told me that with the instrument rating this reliance on different types of navigation eventually becomes second nature.

One of the most fascinating aspects of flying is how each and every flight reveals some new facet of making judgment calls. I was too complacent with using GPS units for "stupid easy" navigation, so this flight made me appreciate the training I had received on VOR navigation.

By Gary Bauer

"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.