PRECAUTIONARY LANDINGS

Hello happy instructors. You may not believe this, but I invented precautionary landings. I had never heard of them when I did my first one. So I invented one for myself.

Let me explain – there is much to learn from the story. After that I’ll get on with the serious business of what to teach your pupes, and what they will do to stuff it up.

In the 1960s PPL training was pretty rudimentary. Our aeroplanes were slow and simple, and they couldn’t go very far in one hop. We had no radios – why would we need one when Schalk Barnard was in the tower to flash a light at us so we knew what we may or may not do.

There were very few aeroplanes and concepts like controlled airspace were unheard of. If you had a wireless (sorry radio) then you talked when you were in range – perhaps 20 or 30 miles, and every airfield had the same frequency – 118.1

Our little aeroplanes were very easy to fly, and most were easy to land – despite having a conventional undercarriage with the extra wheel at the back.

My point is that 40 hours was a hell of a long time in which to learn very little – so the whole thing was incredibly casual. The story of my solo cross country will give you an idea.

My god-like instructor was Dirty Bossie – who really was dirty. He had the appearance of one who had spent the night repairing a sewage facility. There was a bit of a high-tide mark round his neck, and you would often see him swatting at one of those blue-bottle flies that seemed to find him attractive.

Bossie was an exceptionally good hearted guy but vaguely malodorous and not the most conscientious instructor.

His briefing to me as I was about to set off on my first solo cross-country from Wonderboom to Rustenburg, Baragwaneth and back was, ‘Don’t fuck it up, and don’t fly into clouds.’

‘Clouds?’ I ask.

‘Those fluffy white things in the sky.’

‘Oh those? Okay.’

The word ‘cloud’ meant nothing to me. Clouds were simply nice cotton wool things which were always far away. I never encountered one at close quarters until it was too late.

The terms VFR, instrument flying, graveyard spiral, and so on were not part of my vocabulary, so I had no fear of clouds.

I did two unbelievably pansy dual cross-countries. The first was to Bronkhorstspruit, Rust de Winter Dam and back. Never more than about 40 nm miles from base. The second was the same trip the other way round. 1h.10m and 1h.5m respectively.

After this Bossie believed me capable of flying to the little town of Brits, thence to Baragwanath airfield, south of Johannesburg and back to Wonderboom airport, north of Pretoria. All on my own. Even today, quite an ambitious trip in a Cub.

Met reports were not part of Bossie’s grass-roots approach to aviation. He simply told me that if I could see the Albert Hertzog (Brixton) tower I would be close to Baragwanath… “Now bugger off”.

The information about the Hertzog tower was, of course, totally useless. The strange edifice, with its rotating restaurant, 700 ft above western Johannesburg, can be seen from anywhere within 30 miles. This means, if my sums are correct, that I would have somewhere around 2800 square miles in which to locate Baragwanath airfield. Not a very helpful lump of information.

Actually despite the inaccuracy of Bossie’s directions, the tower proved surprisingly useful. Here’s what happened.

I could hardly fail to find Brits – it is only a few miles outside the Wonderboom circuit. From Brits I turned south and all went splendidly until I was about 15 minutes out of Baragwanath, when a solid layer of low cloud appeared below me. I pressed on in blissful ignorance. Then I spotted the top of the famous tower poking through the cloud. When my watch said my ETA was nearly up, I simply descended into the cloud.

The sensation seemed a little strange as I peered over the side in the hopes of spotting some interesting landmark through the soup. Then our motion started to feel peculiar, and the wind noise became shriller, and the airspeed increased. Suddenly a tiled rooftop slid past below the wing-tip. We were banked steeply to the left.

I still wasn’t worried. I leveled off, waited for the compass to stop swinging and turned gently on to my previous heading. I was still not in the least concerned as I skimmed 20 ft above the rooftops.

Suddenly a Dak loomed out of the mist. Gee, I thought, the weather must be bad if a Dak lands on a road. I had better do the same. Which I did. The ‘road’ turned out to be the main runway at Baragwanath.

When I taxied up to the fuel pump Mike van Ginkel appeared out of the mist, striding towards me. He had the air of a man who is not at peace with his surroundings, and is going to do something about it.

Without the usual introductory pleasantries that one would expect from a fellow aviator like, for instance, “Howzit, mate?” He went straight to the nub of the matter.

“What the hell do you think you are doing flying a Cub in this weather?” he demanded. And before I could answer, he followed up with an easier question, “And where the bloody hell have you come from?”

“Wonderboom” I replied innocently.

“Don’t move from here,” he said, pointing at the ground at my feet, and strode off to phone my instructor.

An hour or two later the weather cleared so I refuelled and headed back to Wonderboom, still none the wiser, and still somewhat aggrieved by Mike’s dictatorial manner – I felt it was something he needed to work on.

I still had no idea that I had done anything wrong, stupid, illegal, and life-threatening. Even when I got back Bossie failed to discuss my crimes. He was a wonderful character – but not the greatest instructor in the world.

Anyhow that was my self-taught precautionary landing. I landed on what I thought was a road as a precaution against bumping into anything in the mist. And it’s still a pretty good idea to this day.

Less than two years later the DCA scratched its head, flew with me in my Tiger Moth and handed me a wad of paper saying it considered me just the sort of guy they needed to teach others to fly.

Nothing much had changed – the system was still pretty slack. I had done my 20 hours of patter – all solo, no one said I had to be instructed in this activity. Lectures were not part of the deal, and no one knew exactly what patter was – thus no notes were available.

I had to write my own. Over the years I refined them and doled them out for free to anyone who was interested. Eventually those 30-odd pages became the ‘standard’ Most flying schools put their name to my document and still use them to this day.

Then the DCA got hold of them and decided they were totally inadequate so they formed a committee to make my notes better. These gentlemen then formed a sub-committee who expanded it into chapters with numbered paragraphs and sub-paragraphs and sub-sub-paragraphs with roman numerals. They then poured in a mixture of padding, repetition, and govspeak until my little book of notes turned into a 330 page AIC that is both incomprehensible and boring.

But I digress, I will now condense the precautionary landing bit into a bunch of headings to guide you through this fairly difficult and badly taught exercise.

Precautionaries, crosswind landings and go-arounds are generally the worst-taught exercises in the PPL syllabus, so please make sure your pupes are good at them.

Precautionaries are a matter of procedures and accurate flying in poor visibility while under stress.

As soon as you start looking for a field lower one notch of flap and go to your best rate of climb speed.

Set the pitch and mixture so you have got full power when you need it. Check for carb icing frequently.

Assess the wind early to help you choose a field. Keep the wind in mind during your circuits and correct for drift as needed.

INSPECTION OF LANDING PATH

Do at least two inspection runs – one high and one at low level. The high level one should be at whatever height you are flying at – generally 100 feet below the cloud base.

During the high-level inspection check:

  • The length of the field.
  • Obstructions on the approach and overshoot end.
  • The gradient of the field.
  • The orientation of the field on the compass or DI.
  • Landmarks: dams, roads, power lines, trees etc.
  • Animals – cattle, sheep, game.
  • The general suitability of the field.

If it looks suitable and safe to do a low level inspection, fly just to the right of the landing path at about 50 ft and check:

  • The surface – mud, sand long grass etc.
  • The condition – ruts, holes, stones and so on.

Make sure the airspeed doesn’t increase during your descent for the low level inspection. This is a very common fault. You can’t inspect the surface properly at high speed. But you must also be careful not to let the airspeed bleed off during the inspection. Both these are common errors.

The diagram shows a circuit procedure that usually works well – but it is not cast in bronze.

[Em – Put Diagram 1 here]

Remember the following points:

  • Do not get too far from the field – you may lose it in the poor visibility.
  • Do not get so close to the field that you have to do steep turns.
  • Use left hand circuits if possible. They keep the field on your side and offer better visibility through the storm window.
  • Do not fly too close to the cloud base – it seriously reduces visibility.
  • Use your DI and landmarks to help with orientation.

CIRCUIT PATTERN

You see a field that looks as though it might be usable. Turn to fly straight over it. Select partial flap and use the best rate of climb airspeed.

  1. Start looking at the general layout and prominent features.
    1. High level inspection for orientation, approaches and general suitability.
    1. Turn downwind and prepare for your low level inspection. fuel selection, pump on, mixture rich, pitch fine, carb-heat and cowl flaps as required.
    1. Descending turn.
    1. Note direction and reciprocal on directional gyro.
    1. Low level inspection.
    1. Climbing turn on to reciprocal.
    1. Downwind – landing checks.
    1. Descending turn on to finals.
    1. Select flap and airspeed for short field landing.
    1. Touch down, raise flap and use short field braking.
    1. Stop.
    1. Walk over ground before taxying.

APPROACH AND LANDING

Use the short field approach and landing in the POH plus the following guide:

  • Use the maximum flap that will permit a safe go-around.
  • Approach speed should be the minimum safe speed considering the wind, anticipated wind-shear and load.
  • The approach should not be a daisy-cutter, nor should it be so high that it is almost a glide. Try to establish a fairly steep approach controlled with power to bring you down to a position just short of your touch down point.
  • There should be almost no float before touch-down
  • The landing should be at stall speed with the nose high.
  • After touch down, raise the flaps (not the undercarriage) keep the stick back and brake as firmly as conditions allow.
  • Note: If any of the above procedures are contrary to the handbook, then do what the POH says.

A precautionary circuit and landing offers plenty of scope to display common sense and airmanship. The circuit must be planned intelligently. Keep your passengers briefed and tell ATC of your intentions. Also remember to phone ATC after landing.

Carb-heat is vital – the conditions that call for a precautionary are often conducive to carb-icing.

Don’t turn on to final too close and too high as this will cause the speed to increase during the descent – either for the inspection or for the landing. Remember that flying too close to the cloud base will reduce visibility drastically.

Should you choose a road or a field? This story may help you decide.

In the 1960s Eddie Pelcher had a company called Republic Aircraft Parts at Wonderboom. He flew a 140 Cherokee appropriately called ZS-RAP.

I was the hangar-rat for Placo which was right next door. I was much impressed by Eddie. He had a reputation for blinding off in appalling weather and always arriving at the other end. But I was young and easily impressed by any Cherokee pilot. My own skills were limited to landing a Cub without damaging the environment.

Eddie flew spares all over southern Africa. If you were stranded in the bush and needed a magneto for a Stinson, Eddie was your man. He also flew to the scene of every aircraft accident, to see what might be salvaged.

His services were much in demand and his business prospered.

But I had to know his secret – how could he consistently fly in bad weather? His aeroplane was not equipped for instrument flying, and he had no rating. So what gave him the power to fly in all weathers?

Eventually I picked up the courage to enter his office and ask him. He stopped shuffling through a pile of papers and studied me doubtfully over his half-moon glasses, as if trying to decide whether I was worthy of his attention.

Finally he said four words, ‘Roads. Now bugger off.”

It took earnest enquiry amongst folk around the airport before the truth came out. Eddie followed roads when the weather was down.

When the cloud got too low he simply landed on the road. He waited for the clouds to lift, then took-off again.

Now, I don’t think this is an intelligent way to plan your flying. But Eddie had two things going for him. First, he always knew where he was. And second, he always had a nice long runway available. Obviously he kept his eyes peeled for wires, signposts and traffic. Also the roads were quieter in those days.

For weather reports Eddie used the nommer asseblief met system. He simply rang the telephone exchange at the place whose weather he wanted to know and asked the tannie to stick her head out of the window and tell him what she saw.

I think, Eddie’s main crime was that he was using an emergency back-door as a normal everyday facility.

I don’t suggest we should follow Eddie’s example. But it seems that many of us are more scared of landing on a road, than of crashing into a mountain.

So I’d generally go for a road if I needed to do a precautionary. BUT I would only use one as a last resort in a forced landing. Touching down at 45kts almost anywhere is better than flying into poles, wires or vehicles while being determined to land on a smooth surface.

So if your pupes fly immaculate precautionaries, crosswinds and go-arounds then you are a top instructor and I’d be proud to buy you a drink.