GPS is wonderful and I love it
But before GPS there was NDB for small airports (and large) that could not afford an ILS.
Flying an NDB approach in a crosswind requires situational awareness (just like finding Carnegie Hall - practice)
Today's pilots, like Thursday's Child, have far to go to actually master their craft (shrug)
It is all moot anyway. More and more NDB transmitters are being shut down by the FAA to save money. The one at my home airport that had been there for four generations is recently gone, replaced with a sterile GPS RNAV approach.
My GPS is precise but it is not a companion in finding home as the NDB was. We would come across Lake Erie from the Cleveland side on those icy, winter nights, me blowing on my fingers to thaw them out because the wimpy heater could not keep up with a zero night. The clouds wrapping us would gradually go from pitch black over the lake to glowing as we approached Detroit with 4.8 million people far below us and every one of them had a light on. Once we saw the glow we switched our attention from the VOR aiming us away from Windsor to the ADF receiver. Flip the switch on and crank the dial to 385 kc and gently rock it back and forth. It is eighty five miles through the dark freezing night to the little transmitter shack on the field, and with the cabin so cold tonight the receiver circuits won't be right on the mark. The speaker on the cabin roof is rattling with static, then there it is, morse code. We have good propagation tonight and the signal is steady. The friendly tone of the morse code struggling to be heard over the roar of the engine made the cabin feel warmer than it was. Flip the switch to ADF and the dead needle currently pointing off somewhere towards NYC twitches, then lazily begins to swing South. We stare hard at it. It twitches again, kind of vibrates for a half second then smartly walks around the compass rose and resolutely points to home, steady as a rock on this frozen night. In the summer time the lightning strikes all aver the country are yanking at it, causing the needle to twitch and flutter and even rotate off 80 or 90 degrees for a few seconds. But tonight it is the rock of Gibraltar, our bird dog pointing the way home.
"Hey Frank, any coffee left. Pour me a cup will ya I'm a little dry." and I tap away on the yoke with one finger in time with the beat of the morse code calling us home to warm beds and warm wives.