As a relatively new pilot with just more than 160 flight hours, I looked up to my friend Vince. He was five years older, and he was an instrument-rated pilot with 600 flight hours who was accustomed to flying Mooneys.
We hit it off as friends right away when we met on a 300-mile singles ski club bus ride to Mammoth Lakes, California. As I was a more experienced skier and he the more advanced pilot, our friendship was a balance of shared interests, skills, and bragging rights.
We would often split the (then) $100 hamburger flying from Van Nuys Airport (VNY), where we normally rented airplanes, to Santa Barbara Municipal Airport or over the hill to either Santa Monica Municipal Airport or Zamperini Field in Torrance. I would usually take the first leg; Vince, being the more experienced, would fly the return flight—many times after dark.
One Saturday we decided to fly a rented Cessna 182 VFR from Van Nuys to McCarran International Airport (LAS) in Las Vegas, Nevada. This time Vince brought a new girlfriend who had never flown in a small airplane. As a veteran with some hearing impairment, I had forgotten to bring my hearing aids, so I had Vince call the flight service station to get the weather briefing and file our flight plan. Vince also supervised the fueling and then we were off.
As we made progress toward our destination, I was amazed that our indicated airspeed was 140 knots, while our groundspeed was just shy of 200 knots. Wow, where did that come from? Oh yeah, Vince said, the winds aloft were 50 knots—something we had failed to discuss while on the ground.
As we closed in on LAS, the automatic traffic information service reported winds of 37 knots at 290 landing Runway 25. Vince was telling me it was pretty much straight down the runway. I thought this was just too challenging for a pilot of my modest skills; I had 20 hours in the 182. As pilot in command, I chose to turn around and head back home.
Upon executing the 180-degree turn I was really shaken up by the subsequent unusual attitudes the airplane took as a result of the now 50-knot headwinds. We both gripped onto the controls to get things stabilized. Our forward progress appeared to be matching the cars on the highway we were following. Moving into the third hour of the flight, the fuel gauges were indicating about one-eighth in each tank. Fortunately, by then we were close to Van Nuys. Our landing was uneventful.
I have since pondered this flight. There were several takeaways: As pilot in command, I should have ensured I had all of my equipment, including hearing devices; I should have made the call to flight service. I should have questioned my friend about the flight briefing in detail. Had I heard about the flight conditions, winds aloft, and reported winds at our destination, I would have canceled the flight.
I should have supervised the fueling more closely, rather than allowing my friend who was unfamiliar with this aircraft to do so. The tanks were not topped off.
The only good decision on this day was the turn around to head back home.
Not a very good example for our first-time flier who sat quietly in the backseat. Come to think of it, I never saw her again.
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