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Copyright © 2008 by
Randy Pflanzer
Technology Professionals Consortium
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I am a member of AOPA and one of the benefits of membership is the great magazine AOPA PILOT.  There is one column that I turn to almost immediately when I receive a new issue and that is the column "Never Again".  As the name of the column indicates, this column usually relays a story of flying that nearly ended in disaster for some unlucky pilot.  I enjoy the stories because they help me to keep the unforgiving nature of flying fresh in my mind.  Below is my very own "Never Again" story.  I hope that you benefit from the tale.

Lulled to Sleep by the GPS

In July 2000, I had just finished flying off the initial flight restrictions in my new RV-6.  With a fresh Airworthiness Certificate in hand I was anxious to start testing the VFR cross-country capabilities of my new airplane.  Building the airplane had consumed most of the previous seven years so my logbook had but a few entries in it.  I had recently logged 15 hours of dual instruction to complete my biennial flight review and to obtain a tail wheel endorsement, but I had flown little practical cross-country in years.  In fact, the last time I flew any appreciable cross-country was before affordable VFR GPS radios were widely available.  I was anxious and excited about using the GPS in my new airplane to go to AirVenture 2000.

I began planning the trip by acquiring current paper charts and mapping my flight plan in the GPS.  I was still getting acquainted with my Magellan EC-20X moving map GPS as I had only been able to use it on the short flights within my test flight area.  Nonetheless, I was confident that the short hop from Indianapolis to Oshkosh could be completed without worry.  I plotted my path around the Chicago class Bravo airspace with a direct entry over the town of Ripon.  I was all set.

The appointed day arrived and my 13 year-old son and I loaded up and took off.  The weather was a non-factor as I enjoyed the thrill that comes from actually traveling somewhere in your own airplane.  As the flight progressed the GPS did its job of indicating where I had been, where I was at, and where I was going.  I thought to myself “This is sure better than unfolding and folding maps, marking and timing checkpoints, and fiddling with slide rule flight computers.”  In fact, I didn’t even bother to open a chart up.  The flight came off without a hitch as we arrived over Ripon just when we had planned.

After a couple of fun days at the show, it was time to plan the trip home.  No problem I thought.  I’ll just hit the “reverse flight plan” button and we’ll be ready to go.  I stopped by Flight Service to get a briefing, which indicated that the weather was going to be less than cooperative on the way home.  It was looking like some VFR, some marginal VFR and occasional IFR in rain showers over the entire route.  Since this weather pattern was expected to remain in the upper Midwest for several days, I decided to give the trip home a try.  Besides, I was brimming with confidence as a result of the trip up so the weather reports didn't cause me any great alarm.  I felt comfortable using the GPS to navigate from one airport to the next, thus  leapfrogging our way back to Indy.  I told my son that if the weather looked bad ahead, we’d just land at the nearest airport and wait it out.

We departed Oshkosh and quickly discovered that the forecast wasn’t quite matching reality.  Ceilings varied from between 3,500 feet and 2,500 feet and forward visibility quickly alternated between okay and poor.  I dialed in the nearest airport along our flight path, tuned in Flight Watch, and headed south. I had to really concentrate to remain VFR below the cloud deck while we both kept our eyes outside looking for traffic and towers.  As the flight progressed, the weather remained constant.  We were able to stay clear of the clouds and duck around the poor visibility and work our way south, navigating from small airport to small airport.  In fact, I was stupidly patting myself on the back for not allowing the weather to disrupt our plans. 

Once we got down around the Wisconsin/Illinois border, things started to change.  It got tougher and tougher to find a way around and through the weather.  More and more dark spots filled the windshield so I did the prudent thing and hit the “nearest” button on the GPS.  I dialed in Chicago Skydive airport and landed to wait for a break in the weather.  My thought process at the time was centered on just how neat a tool the GPS is.  Without much effort, we had flown safely around and under some lousy weather, but always within 10 to 15 miles of an airport.  Unfortunately for me, I failed to realize that my entire navigation ability and situational awareness was tied to just one, little, and sometimes fickle, electronic box.

When a slight break in the weather appeared overhead, we quickly climbed aboard to resume our trek home.  I had just lifted off and turned south when Murphy’s Law struck.  I was maneuvering to remain out of the rain showers when I glanced down at the GPS and received a shocking jolt.  All I saw was a dark screen.  Perhaps in my haste to depart quickly, I had forgotten to turn it on.  So I hit the on/off button, and again I was greeted with a dark screen.  I pounded on the screen and shouted “Damn you, come back up!”  Just then I heard my 13 year-old son’s voice in the intercom.  “What’s wrong Dad?”  It was at that exact moment that for the first time in my life, I experienced panic.  In an instant, I had no idea where I was.  I didn’t even have a chart open so I could look for towers.  I turned back to where I thought the airport was but I couldn’t find it.  Now what do I do?  I mentally cursed myself for being so stupid and cocky.

As I tried to gather myself so as to spare my son the panic that I was feeling, I was hit with the thought “Remember to fly the airplane.”  I set my panic aside and assessed the situation quickly.  I had four hours of fuel onboard and an engine that was running just fine, so there had to be a way out of this mess.  I took a westerly course where I knew better weather was eventually located and figured that I’d find a highway, town, or something that would lead me to an airport.  I also opened up a sectional map to begin looking for something that I could match to where I thought I might be.  Once all that was settled, I began messing with the GPS again.  After taking the data cartridge out and putting it back in, the GPS flickered to life.  Relief flowed over my skin from head to toe like an electrical charge.  I immediately headed to the nearest airport and landed.  Once down, I mapped out our course on the map with a pen and circled all the towers so I knew where they were.  An hour or so later and without any further hitches in the GPS, we safely landed at our home airport.

I lost sleep for about two weeks reliving the panic over and over again in my mind.  I decided that instead of beating myself up for being so stupid, I would turn it into a positive by never letting it happen again.  Then and there I decided to make some serious changes in the way that I flew.  First, I completed a failure analysis of every device in my cockpit.  I played what-if games to see what I would do if this instrument failed, or that radio failed.  I made changes in my procedures and updated my Pilot's Operating Handbook.  This exercise greatly boosted my confidence that despite the failure of  nearly all the equipment in my airplane, I still had the opportunity to get the airplane safely on the ground.

Second, I always fly with a current chart open and on my lap, even on local flights.  When flying cross-country, I make a mark on the chart about every 10-15 minutes and note the time and the heading as I pass over a particular landmark.  I never totally rely on the GPS and I anticipate that it will fail.  Since that trip in July 2000, I’ve made numerous VFR cross-country trips to Arizona, Florida, and the East Coast.  On one such trip, the GPS failed again due to a problem with the antenna coax.  This time I was prepared.  I simply flew on to my destination by timing myself over various checkpoints and by keeping a close eye on the compass.

Don’t get lulled to sleep by your GPS.  They are great pieces of equipment that have simplified cross-country flying enormously.  But be sure you can handle the situation when it fails.  Because it will fail, and it will be when you least expect it or can least afford it.  By remembering the manual navigation techniques taught to you during flight training and by being prepared, you will hopefully turn such a failure into nothing more than an inconvenience.


"The world is a book and those who do not travel read only a page."
- St. Augustine