A private pilot explains, by way of a hair-raising first-hand account of a near-miss, the importance of maintaining situational awareness.
This incident happened to me 18 years ago. Way back then I completed my GFPT but then could no longer fly due to family commitments and finances. I am currently getting back into flying again as I now have more funds to play with.
I am sure this My Story will help other pilots in regards to not losing concentration with what they are doing and to make sure they aviate, navigate and communicate at all times. You quite often read a lot of stories about First Solos and first area solos etc. This is a bit different as it actually concerns my second circuit solo, which came not long after the first. I was learning to fly at Murrayfield Aerodrome in Mandurah, W.A. and back then this was a very quite, single runway airfield.
To put it into perspective, there was very rarely times during my training that I actually had to wait for another aicraft to land or take off before I could get on the runway and there was almost never another aircraft in the circuit at the same time.
The mere fact that an aircraft flying over the airfield at a lower altitude and/or joining the circuit was reason enough to walk out of the hangar each time to look at said plane suggests that this wasn’t the most happening of airfields. The fact that it was very quite helped when listening to the radio traffic too.
I had done about 13 hours dual and 0.2 solo when this incident occurred. Later, on the same day that I did my First Solo, I took off on Murrayfield’s Runway 09 (right-hand circuit) for a second circuit solo. All was normal and correct with my Cessna 152 (VH-BFV) up until I got to mid-downwind. I was flying at 1000ft AGL – this fact becomes important later.
I had just completed my BUMFTH checks when I heard a call on the radio – for a lot of people who train at the larger airfields that would not mean anything, but for us at Murrayfield it meant that something was close. As far as I can remember the call went something like this, “All stations Murrayfield blah blah twin blah blah entering downwind Runway 09 Murrayfield blah blah blah”.
I wasn’t sure I’d heard the entire call correctly, so I repeated it back to myself a couple of times, and that’s when the penny dropped. “Downwind Runway 09! That’s where I am!” I hollered.
I looked everywhere – in front of me, to the sides, above and behind – at every space I could find but for the life of me I could not see another aircraft anywhere.
At this stage I started to get a little worried and was waiting for something to plow me down. Again I looked all over trying to find this other aircraft but again I couldn’t, so I started to panic a little and went through the same process again and again.
I knew there was another aircraft, and the fact that it was in close proximity to me and my 152 and I still couldn’t see it was concerning. I was concentrating on trying to find the other aircraft so much that I lost concentration with everything else.
All of the above might paint the picture that this happened over a long time, but the reality was it was not much time at all and at that stage of my flying I remember questioning why the aerodrome operator did not make the circuit wider and longer so pilots had more time to do everything.
I was still in a fluster as I still couldn’t sight and didn’t know where this mysterious other aircraft was. As a result, effectively I wasn’t flying my 152, and when I eventually looked back in the cabin at the instrument panel I realised I was now flying at 700ft AGL instead of the standard circuit height of 1000ft AGL.
I was very close to the point where I should have been turning onto base and had lost all of 300ft just through looking for that aircraft, so I decided to just stay at my current height and turn onto base. I remember sweating like crazy, waiting for this aircraft to plow me down, when I looked a long way out to the right and finally spotted the aircraft.
The twin was on late downwind but was downwind for a left-hand circuit on Runway 09. He was about to turn onto base as I was about to turn on to base, and you don’t need much of an imagination to realise what would’ve happened if we both got to the final leg at the same time.
At that point I probably relaxed enough to stop worrying about being collected and started to think a bit clearer. I was still sweating, but not panicking as much and gradually coming to my senses. I finally used the radio, which admittedly I should have used earlier, and I had enough sense to call the pilot of the twin. I quickly informed him that I was on late downwind of a right-hand circuit for Runway 09 and he immediately replied, “Acknowledged, I am out of here!”. Without any hesitation, he just extended his downwind and kept heading to the west.
I think that was the best thing he could have done; if he had replied that he was in the right place and I was in the wrong place I think I would have really gone into hardcore panic mode.
From this experience I learnt a number of important lessons. I should have not lost concentration. And I should have communicated with the other pilot over the the radio a lot sooner to clarify where he was and to let him know where I was. Because I thought the twin was in very close proximity to my 152 I only looked close by – I failed to look further out than where I thought I needed to.
I suppose all pilots at some point have errored no matter what level of experience they have, and as always the best thing to do is aviate, navigate, communicate. I’m sure other pilots and instructors could add further comments or suggestions on this matter, but I hope others can learn something from this like I did.
Do you have a ‘My Story’ to get off your chest that could help
others to learn from your experience? All authors published in this
section receive a Command Flight Planner valued at $375. Email justingrey@yaffa.com.au or post to Australian Flying, GPO Box 606, Sydney NSW 2001.
(Bill Wardle)
