08/06/2009 - "Wow! It's lit up like a Christmas tree, isn't it?"

For the Private Pilot's License, I am required to have 3 hours of night flying, during which I must do a cross-country of at least 100 nautical miles total, along with 10 takeoffs and landings to a full stop.

Tom's schedule makes it very difficult for him to complete night flights, so my first lesson was conducted with a different instructor, named Kevin. Unfortunately, it didn't occur to me to get a picture of Kevin, but my lesson with him in 172NT was pretty much an introduction of night flying with 4 landings at GYY, 3 landings at IGQ, and a final landing at MDW.

Preflight uneventful. After starting the engine, Kevin showed me how to turn on the interior lights so that I will be able to read the instruments in the dark aircraft. Every automobile I have ever driven has included backlit guages, enabling the driver to easily read the guages at night. Not so in our little 1979 Cessna! The interior lighting is a single red light bulb which casts a barely visible glint of red light onto the instrument panel.

"There's your light," Kevin says.

Um... ??? "Where's my light!?"

Well, honestly, once my eyes adjusted to the low level of light I could see the instruments pretty well. However, I am always going to need a flashlight in the cockpit. It is very difficult to verify the location of the trim wheel in that limited light, and besides, it's always a good idea to carry a backup light in case the one in the cockpit fails.

The first thing I notice immediately after takeoff is that the air is very, very smooth at night. Air movements, as you may imagine, are fueled by the sun's uneven heating of the earth's surface, and when the sun has been down for a few hours, the air settles down to a cool, glassy calm. When I take my wife Nadia flying for the first time, I'm going to take off just as sunset begins, thereby ensuring beautiful views of the city and calm, smooth air. As my lessons continue, I can feel that special day approaching, closer and closer. It is so difficult to wait for the day when I will take my wife for a plane ride, but as I look at my logbook, it is apparent that our first sunset flight isn't very far away at all.





I was heading 090 from Midway on our way to Gary, and I took the opportunity to get a night shot of the Chicago skyline. On my first attempt, I was able to capture all of the building lights and street lights in our beautiful city, but in order to capture these lights, I have to keep the shutter open for about a second. Of course, I'm in a moving plane, and I am unable to hold the camera precisely steady, and the result is shown at right.







So, I manually increased the exposure and increased the shutter speed to ensure that I wouldn't get the blurry lights while still ensuring that a maximum amount of light would enter the lens. And the result is shown here:

Argh! We are so far away from the skyline that the increased shutter speed just doesn't permit enough of the light to reach the camera lens. The end result is a focused, but barely visible skyline.

Hey! I happen to be a pretty good photographer! Just not tonight.



Within a few minutes, we reached the lakeshore, and Kevin asked me to turn southeast toward Gary. At first, I felt nervous flying over the water, but I was certainly within gliding distance of land, and it was actually very liberating to fly out over the water. Kevin asked me to contact Gary Tower.

"Gary Tower, Cessna 172NT is 5 miles to the northwest, land and remain in the pattern, stop and go."

"Cessna 172NT, Gary Tower. Make straight in for Runway 12. Traffic is a Bell Ranger helicopter at your 2 o'clock, 2 miles, he's departing the pattern to the west."

Kevin and I scanned the sky for that helicopter, but against the backdrop of the city lights, it was hard to see. It took a few moments, but at last I saw the helicopter's strobe passing from left to right, and I instantly knew that the helicopter would not be a factor. I was hoping, however, that I would be able to see the green NAV light on the helicopter's starboard side, but I guess I just wasn't close enough.

Kevin tells me that he sees the airport, and I'm scanning the area where he's pointing, but I just don't see it. I guess I visualized that I would be able to see the runway lights from far away, or at least the airport beacon. For a long time, I looked and looked. Then, at last, I noticed the red runway end identifier lights (REILs) for Runway 12, and a few seconds later, I could see eight green lights marking the runway threshold. Once I was able to see the beginning and end of the runway, my brain somehow filled in the white runway edge lights, and I could finally make out the entire runway. Boy, it was hard to see it until we were almost right on it!

"Wind 060 @ 4, Runway 12 cleared for the option," says the Gary Tower controller.

"Cleared for the option, Runway 12," I respond.

"Throttle to 1,600 RPMs, flaps 10, pitch the nose down." Kevin says.

Following directions, and the runway is approaching.

"You're pretty far right of the centerline. Control wheel to the left," Kevin warns.

At this moment, I realized that I was actually aiming the airplane at the right runway edge because I thought the white lights on the right side were the runway centerline lights. No, I thought to myself, I need to land in between the runway edge lights. I made the correction.

As I came closer and closer to the runway, my brain began to fill in the blanks. It really wasn't much different than landing in the daytime, except instead of aiming at the forward edge of the pavement for my landing, I was pointing at the green threshold lights. As I descended to within 10 feet of the runway, my landing lights started to light up the surface, and I could clearly make out the "12" runway marking as well as the centerline. From that point forward, the landing was textbook.

"Come to a full stop right here on the runway," Kevin says. "Clean up the airplane."

Carb heat off, flaps retract, ready to go again.

Very good climbout, but as I turned crosswind, I rolled out of the turn too late. I think I lost orientation with the runway, and Kevin reminded me to keep the runway in sight. I looked over my left shoulder, and to my amazement, I couldn't see the runway at all! No white lights, no REILs, no green threshold lights. I guess I envisioned that the runway would be clearly lit up and easy to see! The reality, at least at Gary, is that the runway is difficult to see unless you're pointed right at it on final. And have I mentioned before that Gary... well... smells funny?!?

Kevin reminded me that the wind is from the northeast. It's a very light wind, only 4 knots, but I must point the nose of the aircraft to the right to counter the wind. I glanced out the left window, and I could see the runway again. The red Runway End Identifier Lights reminded me that I was now abeam the threshold. Time to descend for landing #2.

"Watch your airspeed," Kevin warns. "You're too slow."

I instinctively push the nose of the airplane downward to increase the airspeed, as I look down at the airspeed indicator, which admittedly is difficult to see in the light cast by the single red lightbulb. It takes a few seconds for me to interpret the markings, but yes, I was slowing down past 65 knots on base. And as I turned final, I was a little bit high because of my airspeed error on base. I landed just fine, but I didn't manage to come to a full stop until I was 1000 feet down the runway. I cleaned up the airplane, and looked forward to gauge my distance from the end of the runway. I could make out the REILs, and I was pretty sure that I could take off in the distance remaining, but I asked Kevin his opinion, just in case.

"Do I have enough runway to take off from this point?"

"Oh, yes," Kevin says. "At least 5000 feet and you only need about 800."

Another perfect takeoff with proper right rudder pressure, and two more go-arounds in the pattern at GYY. My fourth landing at GYY was very, very good. I flared for touchdown at just about 60 knots and almost exactly on the numbers, and managed to slow down before the first taxiway. It was an excellent short field landing.

"Nice job. Let's head out to Lansing," Kevin directed.

Climbed out to 1000 ft AGL, and turned to the south. Kevin pointed out a large power plant in the distance, and told me that the power plant is due east of Lansing. As I reached the power plant, I turned to the west and began looking for the airport beacon.

"Lansing has pilot-controlled lighting, right? Can I turn it on now?" I ask Kevin.

"Go for it," he says.

I've been waiting for this moment for more than two months. Many uncontrolled fields nowadays have pilot-controlled lighting. There is no tower or ground controller on duty because the airport isn't busy enough to warrant the coverage, so pilots communicate directly to each other, announcing their intentions on the Common Terminal Area Frequency (CTAF). It doesn't make sense to have runway lights burning all night if no one is going to use them, so to save electricity and light bulbs, the runway lights remain off until someone wants to use them. Pilots have the ability to turn on airport lighting while airborne by tuning the CTAF and clicking their microphone three times for low-intensity light, five times for medium-intensity, and seven times for high-intensity light. Once activated, the lights stay on for fifteen minutes, and if another pilot comes along and clicks his microphone, the fifteen-minute timer starts over. The microphone serves as the "on" switch, but the lights turn off according to a timer, so it's not possible for a pilot to turn the runway lights off while another pilot is using them. This is my first time activating pilot-controlled lighting, so you better believe I clicked that microphone seven times.

And... WHAM!

Lansing Regional Airport lights up like a small city. Bright white runway lights, REILs, and in addition to the green threshold lights, there was a pair of strobe lights on either side of the runway threshold. I could even make out the blue taxiway lights and taxiway signs. You'd have to have your eyes closed to miss this airport.

"Wow! It's lit up like a Christmas tree, isn't it?" I say.

The AWOS is reporting calm winds, so tonight's runway at Lansing is pilot's choice. I choose Runway 18 because it's the only runway at Lansing that I've never landed on before. I report entering the left downwind Runway 18 on the CTAF, and make a very successful descent in the pattern, putting the plane down right on the numbers. Another excellent landing.

"Nice work," Kevin says as I exit the runway at K. Then his hand reaches up and switches off my taxi and landing light.

"Okay, what if you lose your landing lights? Keep the plane on the taxiway centerline by looking at the blue taxiway edge lights."

I must say that it's very disconcerting at first, but within a minute, my eyes adjust to the lower level of light. And actually, I can make out the taxiway centerline on the pavement just from the blue wash of the edge lighting. We make our way to the runway threshold, I report a takeoff, remaining in the pattern, and we're off!

Kevin reminds me to apply right rudder on the climbout, and we lift off into the dark. The runway lights are more then enough to help me gauge my climb, and I keep an eye on the airspeed indicator to double check for 75 knots. Within two minutes, we're on final for runway 18 again, and I set the plane down right on the centerline without using any landing lights at all.

As we taxi to the runway threshold again, I'm looking forward along the taxiway edge, and I suddenly see two small, golden orbs glinting at me, about six inches above the ground, and about 10 feet ahead.

"What is that?!" I ask.

"What!?" Kevin doesn't see it.

I reach up and flick on the taxiway light and catch a reasonably sized raccoon dashing off the taxiway into the grass.

"Ha!" Kevin laughs. "There's a lot of wildlife around here. Maybe you better taxi with the light on."

Grin.

One more takeoff and landing with the landing light off, and it's time to head home.

Climbing out from Lansing, and I set myself up to approach Midway from the south. I've returned to Midway from Lansing often enough to feel confident about the route I am taking. I contact Midway Tower, and he asks to report the field in sight. Kevin tells me to look for the beacon, and I'm trying, but it isn't easy to spot the field.

"It'll be a long, black sliver in between lit up roads," Kevin advises me. "Even Midway can be tricky to spot at night."

There are several dark patches ahead, but none of them seem distinctive. I do manage to pick out the two Alsip water towers, all lit up in white light, so I am certain that I am on the correct course. Just when I'm going to ask Kevin for help, he says, "Did Tom tell you about the Nike Swoosh?"

Wha?!

"No," I laugh.

"The lights from Archer Avenue make a Nike Swoosh that points straight at the airport. The lights are really yellow. You know what I'm talking about, right? The Nike logo?"

"Yeah, I do."

And I'm looking for this Nike swoosh, but it's not really helping me. Then, I glance ahead, and I'm amazed to realize that I can make out one of the large Southwest hangers on the north edge of Midway. Once I have the hanger, my brain fills in the rest of the details, and I have the airport in sight.

"Cessna 172NT has the field in sight," I report on the radio.

"Cessna 172NT, make right base runway 4R, keep your speed up, you're ahead of a Southwest 737 on a 10 mile final doing 270 knots over the ground."

Whoa.

Kevin is there to help me out. We're about to approach Midway in a whole new way.

"Make your right base. Push the throttle to full and descend to about 1,200," Kevin says.

I turn to a heading of about 300, making my right base. I'm descending at full power, and our airspeed is pushing 115 knots. I glance out of the right window, and suddenly, I can see the green runway threshold lights, and the rest of the runway fills in. I've got it.

"Throttle back to 1,600. Fly level for now. The plane will slow down pretty quickly."

Levelling off. The airspeed is dropping, and it's down below 80 within 10 seconds. Flaps 10, rolling out on final. Our angle looks good, so I drop another 10 degrees of flaps and point the nose just before the runway threshold.

"You have to land on the other side of the green lights," Kevin warns.

"No problem," I say.

I pull the throttle back to idle, and within a few seconds, I feel like I'm a little low. Not low enough to be dangerous; just low enough to preclude full flaps. I pull back on the control wheel and coast right over the runway threshold. It takes a long time for the plane to slow down and touch the runway because I only have 20 degrees of flaps, but I am able to exit at F and taxi to the tower apron.

"I didn't think I could have put out the final 20 degrees of flaps, but I guess I could have."

"Sure," Kevin says. "You used up more runway than you had to. But it was a smooth landing."

Each time I land, I learn a little something new.

Night flying isn't hard; just different. During my next lesson with Tom, we're going to do a night cross-country to Pontiac. I admit that night flying still makes me a little nervous, but my next lesson is another opportunity to tackle my fear.

- Airman Eric