The phone rang yesterday morning and it was my instructor Dave suggesting we get in a few more hours of preparation for my upcoming IFR checkride. He went on to explain that his cousin was visiting, and needed to get to Long Island to catch a commercial flight home to Chicago. “Call for a briefing”, he said. “And find out the optimal IFR route into JFK. I’ll meet you at the airport at 1:00. You’ll like my cousin, he’s really an interesting…”
I interrupted. "Yeah, Dave, 1:00. But, just a minute... did you say JFK?"
"Yeah! It'll be great! See you at one." Click.
Kennedy International Airport is one of the busiest in the nation, and I wasn't even sure small aircraft were allowed there anymore in the post 9/11 world. So I called flight service and found that as long as we were under IFR there shouldn't be much trouble. I asked if they had any advice on routing, and they suggested I simply file direct. Most of the standard arrivals into JFK are designed for jets that travel 250 knots when they're going slow. That's over 100 knots faster than our Cessna's maximum speed with a good tailwind. File direct and see what you get, they said.
After carefully studying the standard routes and approaches into JFK I headed to the airport. The plane was ready when Dave arrived with his cousin in tow. We filed our flight plan and piled into the plane. I got my charts in easy reach, as well as my camera. I don't care how busy it gets, I thought - if the Concorde has to delay takeoff for a Cessna 172 at JFK I'm getting a picture to prove it.
We blasted off and headed on course for Kingston, NY and thereon to Bridgeport, CT. Approach Control had given us a route taking us southbound over Long Island Sound, and we were thankful it didn't take us all the way to Albany as the standard arrival procedure dictates. We were in and out of some clouds while north of the Sound, so chalk up a little more actual instrument time for me.
When we reached the north shore of Long Island we were told to continue south to the Deer Park VOR. No sooner had I put us on the appropriate heading than ATC called us with vectors for a visual approach to runway 31 Left. I laughed as I realized this was the largest runway they had, nearly 15,000 feet long. "Don't worry guys, I think I can land us on that. Several times, probably."
Dave tapped me on the knee and indicated the GPS attached to his yoke. Direct JFK - the big leagues! I took off my foggles and readied the camera. There was no way I was staying under the hood for this.
Kennedy is a huge piece of real estate, and we saw it quite far out. We could easily see our runway and that the controllers were setting us up for a long-ish right base pattern. As we came south of the airport the controllers began pointing out lots of traffic. They need not have bothered, because two jets were already getting big in our windscreen. The one closest to us was a United Airlines 767 they said, and that we should turn toward the runway after it passed under us. Dave took the camera and snapped a photo of it from above. It seemed so close, I was reminded of being at the aquarium and seeing a shark swim past me
menacingly.
We were then cleared to land, but with some conflicting advice. The controller said the general aviation area was quite far down from where we would be landing, so we could land long if we wanted. However, there was a 747 departing just before our arrival - "Caution, wake turbulence." That was a no-brainer to me. We would land short, prior to the heavy jet's liftoff point.
Dave snapped some more photos as we descended to land. It happened quickly because I was keeping our speed up as high as possible. Although I'm sure nobody else cared, it felt to me like I was landing in front of the whole world. So I was pleased when I squeaked the wheels onto the runway. I kept up our speed to the first taxiway and turned off, and suddenly we were in a world of huge jets. They were on all sides, looming over our tiny Cessna on all sides.
Ground control directed us to taxi down to general aviation. At one point a jet that had landed on an adjacent runway needed to get onto the same taxiway. Control told them, "Give way to, and follow the 172 that's passing you now".
"I'll bet they don't hear THAT very often around here," I said. I waved over at the jet's crew as we trundled past, feeling oddly like a kid cutting the lunch line at school.
After dropping off Dave's cousin at the terminal we quickly re-filed, again asking for a direct route. After firing up the plane I contacted Clearance Delivery, and found myself talking to a controller with a strong Brooklyn accent. "Yeah, ah, you guys wanted direct to Dutchess County? That's not going to work down here. Lemme look at the book and figure out where to send you. Standby."
A few minutes later he came back to us and I advised ready to copy. He then let loose with the longest, most complicated clearance I've ever heard. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't talked as fast as the guy in the FedEx commercial years ago. To get the right tone, read this as quickly as possible and take no breaths: "ATC clears Cessna 5426Tango to papa oscar uniform via Kennedy nine departure Canarsie Climb victor 229 vectors BDR victor 91 Stubby victor 205 direct papa oscar uniform altitude 5000 expect 7000 one zero minutes after departure frequency will be 127.5 squawk 4332."
Now double the speed of how you just read it, and you'll have what they gave me. And don't forget the Brooklyn accent. Anyway, I got about half of it and looked helplessly at Dave. He shrugged and said, "Read it back."
I stumbled through the readback and braced myself for the controller to yell at me for being a moron. Instead he said, “5426Tango, you’re breaking up. The antenna over there at general aviation isn’t placed too well. Contact ground on .9 for your taxi and check your clearance with them.”
"Roger." Whew. One more chance. Dave taxied the plane while I reviewed the clearance. I located the departure procedure and the subpart they referred to ("Kennedy Nine" departure, with "Canarsie Climb" being the transition route), and this helped me figure out what I missed. I contacted ground control and read the clearance to the nice lady as I was told. To my relief, she said, "Readback is correct, except I'm going to change Canarsie Climb to the Idlewind Climb, and your altitude will now be 4000."
I read back the revisions, and swore in despair as I saw my routing sheet was now full of chicken scratches, revisions over revisions, altitudes and new altitudes. I tried to make it readable as Dave continued taxiing us to the other side of the airport. This was quite a long way, so I had time to sort it out. Then out of the corner of my eye I spotted a Concorde on our left. Snatching the camera I fired off two quick shots, then went back to my navigation planning. We missed two turns on the way even though Dave and I double checked each other and agreed we were doing what we were told. No wonder they have so many runway incursions at airports - with poor signage like that what could you expect? Other pilots had told me before - they don't get lost while flying, but rather on the ground at airports.
We finally pulled up to the hold short line of runway 31 Right and contacted the tower. They wanted to know if we needed time for a runup. I said no, hoping we could sneak out immediately, but they said to hold there. I took pictures of several arrivals, and then half-jokingly remarked to Dave that we might have to return to the ramp if burned up all of our gas waiting here.
After an American Airlines 767 landed in front of us I saw a small bird try to fly across the runway. To my amazement, it hovered in midair for several seconds and then gave up, landed and walked to the grass. Wake turbulence is a hazard to us all - even birds.
The tower finally cleared us to taxi and hold on the runway. I had taken note of the 767's touchdown point, and informed Dave that I would keep us on the ground until we were past it. The throttle was firewalled as soon as the controller uttered our call sign and off we went. Just after we lifted off the plane started vibrating and shaking. Dave and I disagree here - he thinks it was the wheels spinning after our high-speed takeoff. To me, it felt like aerodynamic buffet from wake turbulence and it scared the crap out of me. I lowered the nose to keep our speed up as high as possible, and then it passed.
I then executed the Idlewild Climb procedure, using a climbing right turn nearly steep enough to qualify as a Chandelle. This was because the departure required staying a certain distance from the LaGuardia airspace and the controllers asked us to keep it extra tight. After a few minutes I intercepted the heading to our first fix, and things slowed down to a reasonable pace as we departed the New York area.
The ride home was uneventful, and I landed ravenously hungry. What a flight! And I have Dave to thank for it. Not every instructor will undertake what we did today. Nerves of steel doesn’t begin to say it…
