Caught on Top

Larry Hahn, LIEFC Member  

Despite the fact that my parents’ home, where I lived in my single days, was destroyed by fire resulting from a plane crash in Jamaica, Queens, in 1952,  I had this lifelong love affair with airplanes. It was in the summer of 1975 and I just earned my PPSEL License. As is the case with most new pilots, I wanted to fly at every opportunity. I usually asked some of my coworkers at Grumman if they wanted to take a ride with me after work (I really didn’t enjoy flying alone and, besides, I wanted to show off what I believed was my outstanding airmanship).  One gentleman who reported to me at Grumman had flown with me several times and seemed to enjoy it.  I sometimes wonder if he thought that declining my invitation might affect his performance review and his future career at Grumman!  I had booked one of the Grumman Flying Club’s (GACE) 172's for a one-hour VFR flight out of MacArthur (ISP) at 5:00 PM on a pleasant-looking September evening.  On the way to the airport, CBS radio was reporting rain showers later that evening. After going through my pre-flight, engine runup, mag checks, etc., I decided to be very cautious and asked for an FAA weather briefing. I was told that scattered showers would be moving in, but not until around 10:00 PM. We left the pattern and proceeded East over Long Island’s South shore to get a look at some of the mansions in the Hamptons. As we were nearing the Moriches Inlet, I noticed an onshore wind was bringing in some clouds, but thought: no big deal!  However, the clouds were starting to fill in quite rapidly and, the next thing I knew, I was flying in clouds.  Not a good idea!  Not being instrument rated., I informed Bob, my passenger, that we were going to return to MacArthur earlier than planned. As we headed West over Fire Island, the undercast was growing more widespread.  At this point, Bob, obviously growing more apprehensive, indicated that he could not see the mainland and questioned me as to how I was going to find the airport.  I didn’t want to tell him that I was worried about the same thing.  Trying to appear calm and professional, I told him that I would fly up a VOR radial, which would take us to ISP.   Following that procedure, I knew that we were getting close to the airport but could not make visual contact with the ground. Remembering what my instructors had told me, I decided it was time to announce my predicament to air traffic control and accept whatever penalties they would impose (as you all know, in the mind of the FAA, the pilot is always at fault).  When I was asked for an estimate of my whereabouts, I replied that I believed I was within a mile or two West or Southwest of ISP. Since we had no transponder, the controller asked me to key my mike for five seconds, after which he told me that I was approximately one mile due West of ISP. This was somewhat good news except for the fact that I still could not see the ground.  The undercast looked like a sea of cotton balls-pretty but scary! After ATC asked for my fuel state, I began to wonder if our next landing would be at Sikorsky, LaGuardia or maybe even Teterboro. Just then Bob , who was leaving the next morning on a two-week vacation trip to California to celebrate his 25th wedding anniversary and wanted to get home to pack, had now broken into a nervous sweat, made some unintelligible remark and pointed downward.  I banked the aircraft and, lo and behold, there was a hole in the cloud cover through which I saw a large numeral “15". Hallelujah, it was runway 15 Right at ISP!  I called for landing clearance and was relieved to hear that I was number two, with a Piper on final ahead of me. At least I didn’t have to worry about an inflight encounter with an aluminum cloud!  It wasn’t exactly my smoothest landing, but I wanted to kiss the tarmac after I landed. All’s well that ends well!  By the way, Bob never flew with me again.  I wonder why?  In thinking back, I really don’t know if I would do anything differently again if confronted with the same conditions.  I believe that I took all prudent precautions and, although I learned the real meaning of fear that day, I didn’t panic. I guess that, in flying, we must always expect the unexpected.

Back

© 2007 The Long Island Early Fliers Club, P.O. Box 221, Bethpage, NY 11714-0221 • info@longislandearlyfliers.org