Back To School

Being my first blog, I should write something extremely witty and insightful. After all, that's my goal for this blog, to write deep and profound truths that will engage you, challenge you, and inspire you. Much of what I will share here will be major mistakes that I have made and learned hard and valuable lessons along the way.

You know what they say about God's tests, "you never fail one of God's tests....you just keep taking it over and over again until you pass." I love the feeling of acing a test, but rarely has that ever been my experience. At the age of 52, I'm still taking some tests that I just can't seem to pass.

I remember at the age of 41, I became obsessed with a desire to fly small airplanes. I enrolled at the local airfield for ground school and shortly therafter I was flying in cool, crisp air, enjoying life from a whole new perspective. As with most things, having an addictive personality, I was picking out an airplane to purchase so I could fly without the restraints of available planes. My pick was a Cessna 206, a 6 seater with great take-off and landing capabilities and all the equipment I needed to get my instrument rating with. I was so proud of this plane and outside of the tension it introduced into my marriage(we'll address that issue in another blog), it was the perfect plane for my mission.

I flew this plane as often as I could, almost daily. I logged several hundred hours of time with an instructor in the pursuit of this instrument rating. You see, it is relativly easy to get a pilot's liscense with a VFR rating. That means as long as conditions are such that visibility is excellent and the sky is clear you can fly according to Visual Flight Rules. But it is a whole other brand of flying where you fly "blind" because conditions are so bad outside the plane, the only thing you trust are your instruments inside the plane.

This was something that required much patience on my part, not a strong family trait, for I spent many hours "under the hood". Meaning, I put on this device that enabled me only to see my instruments and cut me off from the outside world visually. So here I am on beautiful clear days flying under a hood, making every approach and landing, within 200 fet of the ground, trusting only my instruments because I cannot 'see' anything but guages.

Instrument flying is alot like faith. Life seems to be so easy when things are clear, even 'sunny'. Faith is so easy to live with when you don't need it. Most days you can fly an airplane and never need to even look at your instruments and for most of our lives we don't need our faith. We just fly by the seat of our pants, for everything is smooth sailing. But then............

One day, after many hours of training, and two frustrating failed attempts to pass my instrument inflight test, with the FAA inspector, I did pass. I got my instrument flight rating and it gave me the right to fly in instrument conditions. It was a right I hoped I would never need but if it arose I was ready.

On a beautiful summer Sunday afternoon my wife, my son, his friend and myself left Gary airport for a flight to northen Wisconsin to take the two boys to a week long wrestling camp. The flight up was uneventful. Beautiful skies, smooth air, and lights winds made for a nice trip. When we landed I fueled up, picked up my rental car and drove the boys to camp. We enjoyed a nice lunch, drove back to the airport and made ready for the return flight home. I went in to the office to file a flight plan and check the weather because conditions had deteriorated considerably.

On the weather plotter a rather large band of storms with alot of thunder and lightning was moving from the south right over Chicago. The best course of action was to fly southwest, out of the way, letting the storms pass to the northeast and fly up behind them back into Gary. It was a marvelous plan that worked out very well. We could see the fierceness of the storms from a safe distance away and made our way around them and headed into the airport. All of my hours of training and test taking was finally paying off, I had averted some very dangerous weather and while tense at times was nearing home when the worst possible event took place.

Gary airport is located on the southern most tip of Lake Michigan. People rarely understand that while Indiana's most beautiful asset, it also has a tremendous impact on our weather as well. For example, we get snow, winds, and weather that no one else gets simply because of this large mass of water.

As I was making my final approach to the airport a thick, dense, and impenetrable fog moved in just ahead of me. So Chicago central, the people who control all the areas' air traiffic had no information nor help to offer me. This was it. It was my first time I would have to do an instrument landing in terrible conditions. My wife was understandbly nervous, my own heart was pounding in my chest. I calmed myself, drew a deep breath and assured myself that this is what all those hundreds of hours of training was for and I was ready.

I got my instrument approach sheet out and put myself on the marker to make my approach in what continued to worsen as the fog grew thicker and denser. As I made my first appraoch everything was going perfect except for one thing, after breaking out 200 feet above the runway, I had no visual of the runway. According to the rules, if after your intial approach and you are 200 feet above the runway and you have no visual you must abort and try again. So that is what I did. I pulled up, contacted Chicago center, and announced a second attempt to land.

All of my training had not really prepared me for the mental stress that I was feeling at that moment. Mentally, I was wishing I had never taken up flying because now, not just my life but my dear precious wife's life was hanging in the balance. My mind was speeding like an Indy car around the same track....what if? I saw in my mind the next days headlines announcing a small plane accident that claimed the life of two. I saw my two children receiving the dreadful news of a terrible accident.

But then I realized that training isn't just about doing the right thing, although that is what you train for. It is about NOT doing the wrong thing! I realized that at that moment the wrong thing was to panic, the wrong thing was to try and force this plane down in bad conditions. I assured myself there was a way out of this, even though outside my window was just the thickest blanket of fog I had ever seen.

I brought the plane around the marker and made my second approach. Things were no better, in fact they were worse. I had turned on the runway lights, something you do remotely with your radio button, and on my final appraoch never even saw a glimmer of runway. I pulled up, my wife was was now visibly shaken and nearly in tears. I reached over and patted her and gave her a firm and calm assurance that we were going to be alright. She said, " Mike you can't even see the runway and I can't either. How can you say it is going to be alright?" I told her we were leaving the Gary airport and would land at another port with better conditions.

I called Chicago control and asked for conditions at nearby airports. All close were under the same weather conditions so I announced to control I was going to South Bend. We flew the 30 minutes to South Bend and flew into the most beautiful clear night I had ever seen. After we landed my wife got out and literally kissed the ground. We got a room and the next day came back into Gary in perfect conditions.

You could say that I didn't pass the test in one sense. I didn't get that plane on the ground in Gary in those conditions. I refused to force a landing that I later found out was impossible. Upon returning I learned the airport was closed after my last attempt for conditions were zero zero. That means zero visibility and zero chance of landing. What all my training did teach me is that there is always a way out. It may not be the way you want out, but there is always a way out.

Some of you are sailing along right now and things are great. Enjoy the ride!

Some of you have flown into some pretty miserable conditions. For the first time you really need faith. To look out the window all you see is a foreboding of difficult things to come. The important thing for you now is not to resort to your feelings, not to react to what you see with your physical or natural eye. If life's tests have taught me anything, it is that there is always a way out. All your training and all your preparation may not help you in what to do, but it is what you DON'T do that may save your life.