To me, this was the final exam, the acid test. Though I had fulfilled all the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration) requirements for an Instrument Rating, passed a rigorous checkride, and was officially an instrument-rated pilot, all my instrument time had been with either an instructor or an examiner riding in the right seat. The next instrument flight would be entirely on my own.
Today was the day–my first solo instrument flight. I had pre-planned my destination and kept a good eye on the weather for days. I picked Roanoke, VA because I could complete a round trip in about 2 hours, the distance qualifying the flight time as cross-country time, and it was an airport I had never flown into (except in my home simulator). I also liked the fact that it is in the mountains, which can have its own challenges. I pored over my various weather apps, and reserved the airplane 2 days ahead of time, hoping the weather would hold out. I wanted a little challenge while staying within my safety limits, and it proved to be just that. On the morning of this flight, the ceiling (cloud base) at Roanoke was high enough, the visibility long enough, and the winds/gusts low enough, all well within my conservative “minimums.” But with a cold front sitting just to our southwest, I knew the forecasted weather could change during the flight, and it did a little.
I filed a flight plan via my ForeFlight app in the early morning, planning ahead for a 9:30 departure, figuring I’d reach Roanoke around 10:15-10:30, allowing for any early fog to clear, even though no fog was forecast. In fact, the ceiling was supposed to be at 9,000 feet. My flight plan called for 7,000, high enough for the mountainous approach while keeping me below the clouds. That was the plan.
I ran through the checklists, fired up the engine, activated my IFR plan, and got my clearance to taxi to the runway. The takeoff and climb were uneventful (the way we like it), while starting communication with the string of ATC (air traffic controllers) who would follow me throughout the flight per IFR routine. I was soon at 7,000 feet and comfortable enroute to Roanoke. But the clouds ahead were not at 9,000 feet as they were predicted. As I neared my destination, the clouds came down to meet me, and I was soon flying blind inside them. I estimate the base was at around 6,800 feet.
Flying “blind” is the very essence of instrument flying. But you’re not really blind. The airplane’s instruments tell you all you need to know about the airplane itself (engine instruments), its attitude (orientation in space), heading, altitude, etc. Flying on an instrument plan guarantees you separation from other aircraft and clearance from obstacles (like mountains) because ATC has you in continuous radar contact. All you have to do is trust the instruments and follow the flight plan or ATC instructions precisely. So, that’s what I did, without anxiety. It was actually quite fun, and that’s when I knew I was a true instrument pilot. #novisibilitynoproblem
I negotiated my approach with ATC, and they commanded my initial descent. I was soon clear of clouds, with plenty of visibility below me. I easily spotted the airport while on my downwind leg. ATC continued vectoring me (prescribing headings and altitudes) until I was in position to enter the final approach course. I had the RNAV (GPS) Y Rwy 24 approach already loaded into the Garmin 530 nav-com, and used that and my G5 flight instruments to guide me horizontally and vertically down to the runway. It was a satisfyingly good landing, after which I raised the landing flaps while still rolling on the centerline, applied full power, and took right off again (a touch-and-go) as I had negotiated with ATC. I was soon heading back to Winston Salem.
Most of my flying for the past 2 years has been in pursuit of an instrument rating. During that time, I had to use a view-limiting device that restricted my vision to the dashboard instruments only. In other words, I couldn’t look out the window. So, this flight delivered an extra treat–It was a pure joy to again look out the windows and delight in the kind of views one seldom (if ever) sees. As I grow older, I take none of that for granted.
Out of the mountains, I was soon out of any significant weather or terrain hazards. It was an easy ride back, and I executed a victorious landing at my home airport. It felt like the final day of the Tour de France, as the peloton circles the Arc de Triomphe, celebrating the end of a long race!
The following is a too-long video of the flight. PLEASE do not see it all; skim through the boring parts. The weather leading up to the landing at Roanoke is the best part. That landing is at about the 46:00 minute mark.
If you are still reading, thank you! I truly appreciate your interest. If you have any questions or comments, please throw them into a comment box.
Next mission: The $100 Burger