You cannot put a price tag on acute situational awareness. This observant My Story pilot was on the ball, helping avert a potentially hairy situation and boosting his self-confidence in the process.
I was flying my Drifter ultralight from my home airfield toward a country airfield that is a popular ultralight base, and one that has a strong gliding presence. The weather was just about perfect and the visibility excellent. My aircraft is hangared at a small private airfield about six nautical miles north of the airfield mentioned here – as such, by the time I climb to my usual inbound altitude of 2000 feet AMSL, I’m about five nm away.
My destination is not a CTAF (R), so calls are not compulsory, but I like to let pilots in the circuit know I’m inbound and what my intentions are. I made a five nm position call, and at three nm another, stating that I was inbound from the north at 2000 feet and intending to join downwind for runway 04. At 2000 feet AMSL I was about 500 feet above the standard circuit height (for ultralights) of 1000 feet AGL and had a good view of traffic in the area as I approached the circuit.
Due to the high level glider presence at this airfield, it is a very good idea for incoming pilots to be extremely vigilant. Most gliders are not fitted with any real form of electrical system, and as such tend to only carry radios as an afterthought. And gliders have right of way, even if they have not made any calls and you spot one out of the corner of your eye, when you are on short final and they are on a fast, low right circuit, late downwind and committed to land.
This exact scenario has happened to me (and others) and while it may have resulted in some slight annoyance at the time, the truth of the matter is that all the aviators using this picturesque little airfield go out of their way to fit in with each other and enjoy that renowned camaradie that pilots are known for.
Even though the Drifter has the best possible view of any aircraft (bar a paraglider, my former mount), the extra height above circuit height gives a spot-on setup to slip into the circuit at the perfect height, losing the last 500 feet as my chosen entry leg is reached. As this airfield is not a CTAF (R) some pilots choose not to use a radio – as such, I am always very wary as I approach the circuit and my lookouts are substantial and to all areas my Mk. 1 eyeballs can possibly reach.
On this occasion I heard a Tecnam ultralight pilot call to say he was flying straight in to join the downwind leg – I looked to where he should be and picked him up straight away. During the scan to get a visual fix on the Tecnam I also noticed the Cessna tow aircraft from the gliding club – he was a little higher than the Tecnam, on the crosswind leg. He called to say he too was turning downwind and that he did not have the Tecnam visual. I certainly did have the Tecnam visual and did not like what I could see unfolding in front of me.
As the Cessna rolled out onto the downwind leg, the Tecnam was about a hundred metres in front of him and slightly lower. From my position I could see quite clearly that the Cessna pilot would be unsighted on the Tecnam, which would have been situated below his panel/dashboard. The Tecnam crew of course had the Cessna at their six o’clock, so they had no chance of sighting the aircraft.
It also occurred to me that the Cessna would be travelling slightly faster than the Tecnam, and that it was trailing a tow-rope and weight. Only a couple of seconds had passed since the Cessna pilot called to say he did not have the Tecnam visual (a very professional call, I might add), and with my perfect view of the situation I immediately called, “Cessna in circuit, the Tecnam is at your 12 o’clock low”. I did this in a clear calm voice so as not to startle either pilot, because the situation at that point in time was not life-threatening. Nevertheless, the reaction was (as one would expect) instantaneous anyway – the Cessna powered on and climbed to the right; the Tecnam did the same and went to the left.
The Tecnam pilot then called to say he was departing the circuit at that time and climbing away to the south of the airfield, while the Cessna did another turn (to the left this time) and called that he was on a wide downwind. Quickly calculating the speed differential of my Drifter and the Cessna, and nearing the halfway point of my normal downwind leg, I called
the Cessna pilot to advise that I had him visual, and my position on him meant I could extend my downwind leg and land No. 2 behind him. My call was replied to with appreciation, and I then watched the Cessna turn base and final before I turned onto
my base leg.
In hindsight, the thought occurred to me that it may have been a different outcome had I not been there to make the call to the Cessna pilot that the Tecnam was at his 12 o’clock low, but in reality I doubt very much he would have continued his position in the circuit knowing full well the Tecnam was on the same circuit leg as he was, and he hadn’t sighted him. I also doubt the Tecnam pilot would have just continued on as well, knowing the Cessna was somewhere behind him. My fellow aviators on the ground heard both aircraft rev up and looked up to see two aircraft turning off from the downwind leg, so they realised there had been some form of ‘close encounter of the unpleasant kind’.
The only point I would make in relation to the way the two pilots in question reacted to my radio call is that neither pilot gave any indication (via radio) of their intentions. Having said that, they both probably felt the situation was dangerous enough to require immediate action – Aviate, Navigate, Communicate. My concern would be if both pilots decided to turn in the same direction at the same time. If that had happened, both aircraft would have still been quite close to each other and further turns may have resulted in a collision. Certainly, radio calls were made after the initial evasive actions, but if they had both turned the same way the situation could have been made worse.
For me, I felt like I had acted professionally and in a timely manner, perhaps averting what could have been an extremely nasty incident. With just over 100 hours in my logbook (95 per cent in Drifters) it gave my ego a nice little boost to realise I was not just some happy-go-lucky ultralight pilot zipping around the skies in a tube and fabric aircraft – I was, and am, an Aviator.
Do you have a 'My Story' to get off your chest that could help others learn from your experience? All authors published in this section of Australian Flying receive a Command Flight Planner from Command Software valued at $375. Email your 'My Story' to justingrey@yaffa.com.au or post to Australian Flying, GPO Box 606, Sydney NSW 2001