2007 01 the new york vfr corridor accident

VINTAGE INSTRUCTOR

THE

BY DOUG STEWART

The New York VFR corridor accident The morning of October 11 dawned somewhat gray. It was going to be a marginal visual flight rules (VFR) day in the Northeast. Ceilings were forecast to be lower than 2,500 feet and visibilities less than 5 miles. Thus it was going to be a good day for me to catch up on lots of overdue phone calls to return and e-mails to respond to, and maybe I might even find some time to get working on the next article for this magazine. And whereas I yearn, on a daily basis, to get at least 1,000 feet between my buns and the ground, if I missed the opportunity that day, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It was hardly a great day to view the world from aloft. It would be a day when I could take a pass on enjoying the fantastic freedom to aviate, as we can only here in the United States, and put the time to use pursuing albeit less enthralling but nonetheless necessary activities.

Thus I was hardly prepared for the phone call I received that afternoon. “Doug, have you heard? Someone just crashed an airplane into an apartment building in Manhattan.” Thoughts quickly came to my mind of another terrorist attack. Those thoughts were quickly snubbed as the caller continued: “Yeah, it was a Cirrus. Cory Lidle, the Yankee pitcher, and a flight instructor were flying it.”

“Where did it happen?” I asked, as my mind filled with numerous other questions.

“Well, they took off from Teterboro Airport, flew down the Hudson, around the Statue of Liberty, and then up the East River. Apparently they were making a 180-degree turn at Roosevelt Island and ran into a building just west of the East River. Don’t you advise not going up the East River?” “Indeed I do!” I responded.

The caller was referring to a seminar that I present on flying the New York VFR corridor. In fact I have even produced a DVD on the subject. One of the most emphatic points I make in the seminar is that I highly discourage flying up the East River. The exclusion area beneath the overlying class Bravo airspace has a ceiling of 1,100 feet and comes to a dead end just north of Roosevelt Island, where it abuts the La Guardia Airport surface-based airspace.

34 JANUARY 2007

If one flies up the East River, the pilot will have to make a 180-degree turn in a very, very narrow corridor. The turn will tax the skills of many pilots, and the capabilities of most airplanes, to stay within the lateral limits of the exclusion area. In essence, it is quite similar to flying up a box canyon. The only difference is that the walls defining the sides of this canyon are not solid, that is until you stray beyond the limits and hit a building. Lines on a chart depicting the lateral limits of the airspace define the canyon walls. Furthermore, this canyon has a vertical limit as well.

“I guess we’ve just gotten graphic proof of what I have long espoused . . . that the turn is virtually impossible to all but a few. By the way, what’s the weather like down there?” I asked. (My caller was actually calling from New Jersey, not far from New York City.) “Well, the METAR at Teterboro when they departed was 1,800 overcast with 4 miles’ visibility, but the ceilings have been coming down all day . . . it’s probably lower now.”

“What about the winds?” I asked. “They’re out of the east at about 14 knots.”

So many questions flooded my mind: What were they doing flying up the East River? Sightseeing? On a day like this? Did they really think they could make the turn? These were typical questions that anyone with any amount of aviation knowledge might ask. But other, less obvious questions sprang to mind as well. What is the public reaction going to be to this? How are the politicians going to respond? How is the media going to handle this? Does this mean that general aviation takes another black eye in the public’s perception?

Ever since September 11, general aviation has been the whipping boy for so many diversified groups. Everyone, from the media, through the politicians, to the general public, seems to forget that even though airplanes were used to reap devastation on that infamous day, a small general aviation airplane has never been used in any type of terrorist attack.

Terrorists have used small pleasure boats, as in the attack on the USS Cole, and panel trucks, as were used both

at the World Trade Center and in Oklahoma City, yet we don’t see politicians attempting to ban boats from our rivers, or panel trucks from our roadways. Regardless, those of us who fly small airplanes are all considered potential terrorists, flying weapons of mass destruction, by the generally ignorant public.

All of us who are pilots know the absurdity of this mentality. It is up to us to change this perception. One way that we can change it is by flying in a manner that can only be looked upon with respect. And sad to say, we aren’t doing a great job of it.

Every time a pilot violates special-use airspace—be it the D.C. air defense identification zone or the temporary flight restrictions established around Camp David, Crawford, Texas; Kennebunkport, Maine; or even the local college football game—every time a person is able to get away with going for a drunken joy ride in a stolen airplane, and every time a pilot empties the White House, every one of us who derives joy in the ability to take flight runs the risk of losing that capability.

One of the things I stress in the seminar I present on flying the New York VFR corridor is that there are many people in New York City who not only feel genuinely threatened every time an airplane flies over head, but also angered and self-righteous. They would like nothing better than to shut all of us down. Thus it behooves every pilot who chooses to fly in that airspace to be on his or her best behavior.

But you know, it applies not only to congested cities like New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago, but also to everywhere that we fly. It’s true that one can often pick out the pilots in a crowd of people as the ones who look skyward every time an airplane flies overhead. But unfortunately some of the heads that turn skyward are not friends of aviation. They feel frightened and intimidated and seek any and every chance to find a cause, a reason, an excuse to ban us from the sky.

We are so very lucky to have the freedoms of flight that we have in this country. But if we are to retain them, we are going to need to do a better job of protecting those freedoms. So I ask each and every one of you to think how your flying might impact the general public’s perception of aviation.

For example, the next time you decide to go out and build your night proficiency, don’t fly 10 takeoffs and landings at one airport, especially if it’s a nontowered airport near a residential area. I’m sure you’re going to upset all those folks who are trying to relax in front of their televisions. Move around to several different airports to log those much-needed takeoffs and landings. If you’re practicing your eights-on-pylons, don’t fly around the same two silos until the farmer comes out and fills your tail with birdshot. After a few circuits, move on to a couple of more “pylons.” This not only will give you a chance to ensure that you really understand the maneuver, but also will keep the cows and the farmers content. It means re-

sisting the urge to buzz your best buddy’s house, even if you have 3-inch tail numbers.

The list could go on and on. There are so many things that we do in our airplanes that we consider innocuous but that are regarded by those not enamored of aviation as irritating, or dangerous, or threatening. Many of the things that we do in our airplanes that put a smile on our face might very well put a frown on the face of a groundbound unenlightened nonpilot.

High-profile accidents and incidents, such as the Lidle accident in New York City, definitely provide fodder for the politicians who seek to limit, or in some cases even ban, our aviation activities. Every time we do something in our airplanes that disregards the thoughts or feelings of those less tolerant of our passion, we add to their arsenal of weapons to use against us. Whether we like it or not, the day has arrived when we have to consider the ramifications of everything we do in our airplanes. To do otherwise might very well lead to our losing the fantastic freedoms of flight that we are so fortunate to enjoy here in America. And then it wouldn’t matter if there were… blue skies and tail winds.

Doug Stewart is the 2004 National CFI of the Year, a NAFI Master Instructor, and a designated pilot examiner. He operates DSFI Inc. (www.DSFlight.com), based at the Columbia County Airport (1B1).

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