Flight 93

03-05-00

C172

N07-MTP-N07

2.9 solo; 2 landings

"pilotage & dead reck.; VORs; new route- gusty winds; pax Bruce M."



A bit blustery today, but it's not too cold, and the few scattered clouds are at @ 6000.
My friend and co-worker Bruce arrives just as I finish my preflight. I make a point of explaining everything and indulging his questions.
I've made sure he has a good headset, and two barf bags... just in case.

Takeoff is not too bad, and once we turn east, the winds slingshots us towards the Hudson River. Despite the occasional jolt, B. is enjoying the ride. Once past the river, I forget him for a moment... I've never flown this route before, and the haze, combined with the low altitude as we sneak under the Class B, is making it hard to get a visual bearing on the next checkpoint. I'm monitoring LGA tower, just in case.

It all works out fine, but my wind correction is not perfect: I'm a little south of course when I finally spot the lighthouse on the Sound. It's a lot smaller from 2000 than I thought it would look, but it's on its own little island, which helps me make a positive ID.

Now we're over the north shore of LI, clear of the Class B, so I guide 143 up to 5,500 and relax. Between Port Jeff. and Northport I do a thumbnail GS calculation and come up with about 180 knots (!). The landscape is still a dull patchwork of grey and brown; Spring has not yet arrived. The sky is interesting out here, esp. SE: the horizon is shrouded in haze, and the clouds out over the ocean are congealed into a classic false horizon- a fuzzy dark band angled to appear just off level,floating atop wavelets sparkling in the sun's glare. I won't be fooled by this- I have all of LI sprawling in front of me.

 B. seems remarkably comfortable up here, and he proves to be an excellent lookout. Good thing, too, because there's quite a lot of VFR traffic out here today.

 I let him take the controls briefly; he does pretty well with it. Then I demonstrate  a steep turn. B. is thrilled, and I realize I'm enjoying it too, more than usual. Then we simply follow the beach, zipping along the last few miles to Montauk.

Montauk Airport sits on a spike of land hooked around a sheltered lake hemmed in closely on two sides by the sea. Sailboats dot the sparkling waters of the lake. I fly over the field, than come about for a right pattern over the water, always keeping within gliding distance of the runway. My base is too short, but I manage to get a decent final leg established.
As we flare, a tumbling fury of air jerks 143 alarmingly. But we're already slowing. I hold her fast, anticipating movement rather than initiating it, waiting. The end result is a crosswind landing better than  I'd hoped for, considering how long it's been since I did a landing with a good crosswind.

I park, shut her down, and we clamber out into breezy silence.
The airport is deserted, except for a fellow who seems to appear out of nowhere, listening intently to a handheld radio.

"Bumpy?" he asks absently.

"A little. Not too bad", I tell him.
 I start to tell him about our little scare while flaring, but he's already wandering back to a nearby hangar. B. and I shrug and go in search of a bathroom. The office is closed, so we stroll over to a discreet corner of the parking lot to relieve ourselves.

The wind is picking up, which will slow us down heading back, so there's not much time. I spend a few minutes inspecting a funky old Volvo 544 wagon in the lot, then we cross the road to say hello to a horse standing by the fence of a nearby stable. Another horse is laying on the ground near it- foaling, maybe. The horse on its feet stays put, eyeing us.

Too bad we're in a hurry- it's nice out here and I'd like to go over to the beach. I make a mental note to come back someday with more time... and then we're off.

I hear a lot more radio chatter as we crawl upwind past the various small airports in the area. Jumpers away over MacArthur... the controller is perplexed that several aircraft are trying to land there; he asks one pilot if he'd heard a NOTAM regarding the parachute ops during his brief- the answer is "negative".

Soon it's my turn to make a mistake... I decide to do this controller a favor by just letting him know we're eastbound skirting the edge of his Class D at 2800.

I can almost hear him blink, "You say you're at... 2800?"

"Uh..."

I look at the alt. again, and see that I'm at 1800. The controller dismisses me: "The Class D ends at 2600, so you should be fine", he tells me. He must think the transponder is in error... I say nothing, and quickly scoot up to 3000, flogging 143 against the stiffening headwind.

Time to turn north at the causeway... turning across the wind, we get buffeted a bit. I'm having trouble maintaining altitude. This is bad, because I'm hoping to sneak between JFK and Republic and then let down to slip under the Class B for the turn to the west. I'd prefer to be precise here...

"Uhboy" B. gulps. He's feeling queasy. I remind him to gaze at the horizon and keep the Sic-Sac in his hand. He's an experienced diver, has been on rough water before, and has a few commuter-prop flights under his belt, so he gets over it. I ignore him and focus on the critical pilotage, doing quite damn well.

Crossing the Hudson, I feel like I'm too close to the GWB, but I can see a tower ahead on the opposite shore, just north of my course: must be the Alpine tower, which puts us well on course.

Staying clear of TEB's airspace, I continue west and make a very slick approach into the pattern at my home field. It's been some time since I approached N07 from the east, and I congratulate myself. But then I hear another Cessna calling downwind just as I roll out for mine... and I can't see him.

"There", says Bruce. He's already turning base- no wonder I didn't see him. Despite his discomfort, Bruce's scan is putting mine to shame.

I make an unhurried, stable approach, setting 143 down with a minimum of fuss, carrying just a smidge of extra airspeed to compensate for the gusts.

Bruce is still groaning as we deplane, but he insists he's sad it's over.

"Well then, let's grab some lunch here", I suggest.

"No thanks... I don't think I'll be ready to eat until dinnertime..."