Today, I declared an emergency. It was one of those cases where the problems began to accumulate until there were just too many to handle alone.
It was an easy flight that should have taken no more than 30 minutes – from my home base at Westchester County (HPN) to a maintenance facility at Bridgeport (BDR) to make a minor cosmetic change behind the instrument panel.
A palpable smoky summer haze filled the windless, cloudless sky that early morning. It's the kind of haze that makes you glad for the rain to come in the afternoon to wash both pollution and allergens away.
Shortly after takeoff, I chose an altitude of 2800 feet to get between the ceiling of Westchester's airspace and the floor of JFK's airspace and began setting up radio frequencies for Bridgeport. There would be less than fifteen minutes before Bridgeport's airspace would be before me. After setting each number, I peered into the sky, looking out for approaching bizjets and commuters. ATIS reported more of the same: Clear skies, no wind, haze and a dropping barometer warning of the afternoon cold front.
As soon as I was ready to call Bridgeport tower to request landing, I checked the newly upgraded GPS to get the distance. Instead of displaying the navigation page showing the flight plan I had automatically entered, the GPS was displaying the satellite page with the dismaying message that the satellite signals were lost. I flipped through the GPS pages looking in vain for navigation information and returned to the satellite page. Something was going wrong with this easy flight.
OK. I can handle this. The GPS is certainly not required to navigate 30 miles to Bridgeport. To get to Bridgeport from Westchester, you fly toward the Long Island Sound, follow the coast to the east until you find the airport on a jetty of land right after you pass candy-cane striped smokestacks.
As a backup, the Bridgeport VOR is on the field. Since I wasn't exactly sure of the distance from Bridgeport, I backtracked to Norwalk with its three distinctive islands in the Sound while dialing the VOR in on NAV 2. At this point, I distrusted NAV 1 in the G-530. Heading east again, I made sure the compass, Heading Indicator, and VOR were all registering a course of 090 and called Bridgeport Tower. I had forgotten that the Bridgeport VOR is inoperative. The needle wandered around aimlessly. Two things were going wrong with this easy flight.
I told Bridgeport tower that I was having problems with my navigation equipment but declined his offer of additional assistance. Descending to pattern altitude, I peered into the crappy sky, keeping the beachfront to my left, looking for a candy-cane smokestack and runways at the water's edge. It took forever. I glanced a couple of times at the worthless GPS to see whether I was making any groundspeed at all.
Finally, two crossing runways appeared to my left, but it didn't look quite right. I told tower the runways were in sight and asked whether he could see me just offshore. I was cleared for Runway 24 and started looking for the numbers. Tower asked me for a position report, leading me to believe he didn't see me. I was looking straight at the tower and he should have been able to see me. The runway number became visible. Runway 2. I'm starting to figure out how to get to Runway 24 when that little voice that lives somewhere in the back of my brain started shouting, "There is no Runway 2 at Bridgeport." Three things had gone wrong with this easy flight.
It was an easy flight that should have taken no more than 30 minutes – from my home base at Westchester County (HPN) to a maintenance facility at Bridgeport (BDR) to make a minor cosmetic change behind the instrument panel.
A palpable smoky summer haze filled the windless, cloudless sky that early morning. It's the kind of haze that makes you glad for the rain to come in the afternoon to wash both pollution and allergens away.
Shortly after takeoff, I chose an altitude of 2800 feet to get between the ceiling of Westchester's airspace and the floor of JFK's airspace and began setting up radio frequencies for Bridgeport. There would be less than fifteen minutes before Bridgeport's airspace would be before me. After setting each number, I peered into the sky, looking out for approaching bizjets and commuters. ATIS reported more of the same: Clear skies, no wind, haze and a dropping barometer warning of the afternoon cold front.
As soon as I was ready to call Bridgeport tower to request landing, I checked the newly upgraded GPS to get the distance. Instead of displaying the navigation page showing the flight plan I had automatically entered, the GPS was displaying the satellite page with the dismaying message that the satellite signals were lost. I flipped through the GPS pages looking in vain for navigation information and returned to the satellite page. Something was going wrong with this easy flight.
OK. I can handle this. The GPS is certainly not required to navigate 30 miles to Bridgeport. To get to Bridgeport from Westchester, you fly toward the Long Island Sound, follow the coast to the east until you find the airport on a jetty of land right after you pass candy-cane striped smokestacks.
As a backup, the Bridgeport VOR is on the field. Since I wasn't exactly sure of the distance from Bridgeport, I backtracked to Norwalk with its three distinctive islands in the Sound while dialing the VOR in on NAV 2. At this point, I distrusted NAV 1 in the G-530. Heading east again, I made sure the compass, Heading Indicator, and VOR were all registering a course of 090 and called Bridgeport Tower. I had forgotten that the Bridgeport VOR is inoperative. The needle wandered around aimlessly. Two things were going wrong with this easy flight.
I told Bridgeport tower that I was having problems with my navigation equipment but declined his offer of additional assistance. Descending to pattern altitude, I peered into the crappy sky, keeping the beachfront to my left, looking for a candy-cane smokestack and runways at the water's edge. It took forever. I glanced a couple of times at the worthless GPS to see whether I was making any groundspeed at all.
Finally, two crossing runways appeared to my left, but it didn't look quite right. I told tower the runways were in sight and asked whether he could see me just offshore. I was cleared for Runway 24 and started looking for the numbers. Tower asked me for a position report, leading me to believe he didn't see me. I was looking straight at the tower and he should have been able to see me. The runway number became visible. Runway 2. I'm starting to figure out how to get to Runway 24 when that little voice that lives somewhere in the back of my brain started shouting, "There is no Runway 2 at Bridgeport." Three things had gone wrong with this easy flight.
Good that you declared an emergency. How did you recover from the loss of control, and what went through your mind afterward?
