Respect every flight

I would also add to the list that there is scant tolerance for complacency, arrogance, and hubris.

If we fly long enough, we’ll eventually have the “never again” moment. Those of us who live to fly another day will hopefully learn from our misdeeds and swallow our pride to share what we’ve learned for the benefit of fellow aviators. In this case, complacency was the sin that gave me pause and led to this never-again moment.

A few years ago, having recently relocated from my beloved Savannah, Georgia, to Fort Wayne, Indiana, I was still getting familiar with the airport layout, landmarks, night operations, finding a new instructor and A&P, and more. Thankfully, I found a wonderful A&P nearby to do the first annual since relocating. His hangar was at an airport just 37 nautical miles away—not even far enough to log as a cross-country flight.

More than 75 percent of auto accidents happen within 15 miles of home. Often, we allow ourselves to become complacent and perhaps a bit too relaxed by familiar surroundings and let our guard down just long enough to open the door to peril. That was essentially my mistake.

One spring day, I was preparing to pick up my aircraft from its annual inspection. I arranged for the 55-minute drive to the neighboring airport with a quick 15-minute flight back to Fort Wayne. Since I didn’t depart from Fort Wayne International Airport (FWA) by air, I didn’t bother to check notams. I just grabbed a headset, jumped in the car, and started the trek.

After conferring with the A&P about the delightfully ordinary annual and reviewing logbook entries, I performed the thorough walkaround, start-up, extended runup, and launched. I planned to do my usual and customary return-to-service routine directly over the airport—climb 5,000 feet while monitoring instruments, level off, and maneuver a bit within glide distance to the runway. When comfortable with the return to service status, I entered Direct To Fort Wayne into the GPS and headed west. Given the 37 nautical mile proximity to Fort Wayne, I was able to pick up the ATIS before making the turn on course. Nothing was unusual in the automated report other than some fairly gusty winds at Fort Wayne, from 110 at 20 knots with peak gusts to 28. Interesting and challenging, but with runaway options of 5/23 and 14/32, it was manageable.

Unbeknownst to me, sometime after the ATIS was recorded, Runway 14/32 was closed (a common occurrence for military traffic at this joint Air Guard base). Consequently, upon being handed over to the tower, I was cleared to land on Runway 5 with a strong 60-degree crosswind. Granted, I could have declined the clearance and requested Runway 14 for safety reasons, but that would have required starting the process of securing the arresting gear which can take 10 to 15 minutes. I also could have diverted to another airport with more favorable winds. I did neither.

Since peak gusts are not sustained winds, I accepted the clearance and continued the approach. Runway 5 at Fort Wayne is 150 feet wide and 11,981 feet long, so I planned to land on 75 feet right of the centerline to allow plenty of margin for drift, used only 10 degrees of flaps, and flew the approach at a higher speed, while being prepared to execute a go-around at any moment.

Upon touchdown, a powerful gust blew the aircraft left of the centerline quickly heading for the grass, taking some life off my newly installed main tires in the process. With no options, insufficient rudder to maintain directional control, and 10 degrees of flaps, I immediately initiated a go-around before being blown off the paved surface. I climbed out and was given a left crosswind turn.

As I began considering my options, the tower controller asked if I’d like to try Runway 9. Runway 9? Having flown in and out of Fort Wayne multiple times, I was aware of a smaller third runway from the airport diagram, but I’d never heard anyone cleared to use it and didn’t realize it was an option. I happily accepted the offer and was cleared to land on Runway 9, which was uneventful.

The learning experience was humbling. I hadn’t treated the 15-minute flight home with the same level of respect, planning, preparation, and diligence that I would have for a longer cross-country flight.

Had I checked notams for my destination just 37 nm away, I would have known about the planned runway closure times that day and should have been better informed about all runway options available for the forecast winds.

Every flight creates countless opportunities for aeronautical decision-making (ADM) large and small, meaningful and mundane. On this day, I allowed a quick, nothing-burger 15-minute day VFR flight to get the better of me. While there was some good aeronautical decision-making in the flight like flying a faster approach for winds, using only 10 degrees of flaps, landing on the right side of the 150-foot-wide runway, and being prepared for an immediate go-around, the best ADM is to treat every flight with equal respect. Had I done that, I would have planned the flight better, been aware of the notam for the temporary runway closure, and requested Runway 9. My takeaway was something I learned in primary flight training more than 30 years ago: Plan the flight and fly the plan. No matter how routine or no matter how short the flight, aviation is not inherently dangerous, but it is terribly unforgiving.

Randy Bolinger is a global marketing, communications, and brand management leader in the aviation, auto, and powersports industries. He has been flying for 32 years, logging more than 4,000 hours, and owns a Cessna Cardinal.