The view out front on short final was rare for a casual pilot like me.

A tiny strip.  Clinging to a hillside.  Offset by a nasty, gusty crosswind.  Just the way we wanted it.  And as I crossed the threshold, I suddenly realized: wait, I’m not supposed to be landing here.

More on that in a moment.

It started as a friendly competition… with myself.

Before leaving Hawaii for a new job on the mainland, my goal - perhaps not original or unusual - was to land at every non-military airport in the state.

Shouldn’t be too hard, I thought, as I counted the 15 pieces of pavement in paradise meeting my criteria.  But then a local pilot familiar with my pursuit chimed in.

“Oh, don’t even think about landing at Kapalua (PHJH) on Maui.  All those rich people on the West side of the island don’t want to be bothered by the drone of a Cessna doing touch & goes.”

Well, that’s interesting.  The Airport Directory dug-in:

• Arpt Restricted to Part 121 & 135 Far Operators
• No helicopter operations
• No jet powered aircraft allowed
• No practice and training flights permitted
• Special Noise Level Standards in place
• Don’t even think about it, you annoying renter pilot

Okay, I made that last one up.  But they might as well print it.

A few days later while sitting at my full-time, non-cockpit, media-related desk job, I stumbled upon an old email from a friend of mine working at the Department of Transportation.  Ah, what the heck.  Doesn’t hurt to ask, right?

Three days later, a reply da-dinged into my inbox: “Hey there.  It shouldn’t be a problem approving your request.  Just send me some specifics about your flight.”

I lept for the phone and dialed my instructor, who had also been banned from Kapalua.  He didn’t believe what I was telling him.

“Dude, if you can hook this up, this flight is on me!”

Now where were we?  Back to short final, with runway 2 at Kapalua closing in.  Winds 050 at 19, gusts 29.  Doesn’t matter.  Fight it.  Nothing could ruin this now.

And after two respectable landings – one by each of us - and some teasing from an envious Part 135 pilot in the pattern, we had accomplished the impossible.

Landing a Cessna.  Where we shouldn’t.

A special thanks to Hawaii Department of Transportation Spokesperson Tammy Mori, Maui Airports Manager Marvin Moniz, and flight instructor Scott McLaughlin for making this possible.

Chris Archer Blogs by Archer airport directory, cessna, kapalua airport, marvin moniz, maui, scott mclaughlin, tammy mori

I promise you, Saturday wasn’t the first time a jumbo jet and small plane got into each other’s personal space over SFO.  It’s happened to me, too.

After learning to fly at the nearby San Carlos Airport (SQL), I would make frequent trips through the busy airspace in order to access some of the most supreme sightseeing on the planet.

(A recent SFO Class B transition in a C172)

The Class Bravo transition is the best path home from the Golden Gate Bridge.  Alcatraz.  And anywhere else you’d like to leave your heart.

Over downtown San Francisco, I’d call NorCal approach with my request.  The usual instructions: follow the freeway south to SQL, and remain west of Highway 101 at 2500 feet.

About 3 miles from SFO, they’d switch you to the tower.

The controller would then tell you what to do next: proceed along the freeway, fly over the airport, or push you even farther to the West.  And that’s where my encounter occurred.

Similar to this recent incident, a heavy Boeing came barreling off runway 28L toward Asia and into my path, which by then had been pushed over towards Interstate 280 in San Bruno.

As I watched the jumbo get even bigger, SFO suddenly chimed in: “JAL 152 Heavy, stop your climb, maintain 2000 feet, Cessna crossing right to left 500 feet above you.

The 747  flattened its hump and thundered under our nose, as a big smile crossed my face.  Hey, sometimes the little guys get priority after all.

But now I realize, maybe that wasn’t supposed to happen.  Or perhaps the controller that day caught our conflict just in time to kept us legal.

Either way, if it wasn’t for these startled United Airlines pilots, it would have been just another Saturday in the skies over SFO.

Chris Archer Blogs by Archer bay tour, boeing 777, cessna, class bravo transition, near-miss, San Carlos, sfo

It was exactly six years ago today when I touched down at the Palo Alto airport south of San Francisco.

As I anxiously secured my rented 172, a man named Mike simply said, “I’ll see you inside,” turned around, and walked back into the flight school.

You see, as a designated pilot examiner, Mike held my dream in his hands.  And he wasn’t yet hinting whether or not he’d grant me that dream.  For the last two hours, he had quietly and carefully watched me from the right seat.

I knew I had done well.  No major mistakes.  But Mike did at one point fly the plane and gave me a 5 minute lesson on how to better use the rudder.  My instructor John told me that any time a DPE takes control during a checkride, it’s not good.  Had I failed?

But as I walked back into the flight school, there it was, sitting by itself on a dark brown table in a low-lit room.  A tiny, white piece of paper with Mike’s signature on it.

I was a pilot.  May 5th, 2003.

And as I stood in another flight school 6 years later, just this last weekend, waiting to do my Flight Review, I flipped through the pages of a Flying Magazine someone had brought in from 1968.

I was humbled by how quickly time can pass in aviation, and how 6 years can quickly turn into 10, 20, and suddenly my copies of Flying or AOPA Pilot will be faded and tattered, waiting for the next pilot to find them and smirk at what it was like… in 2003.

And that got me thinking about just how much has actually changed since I first took flight.

Glass cockpits were still ideas on paper, not standard in Cessnas.  Airbags were for cars, not for things with wings.  VORs were the norm, and my GPS was a back-up.  Fuel was $2 per gallon, and 100LL wasn’t being phased out.  User-fees were for airliners, not pattern pilots.  And the term LSA was certainly still experimental.

So what will it be like 6 years from now, in 2015?  I guess I won’t have to wait too long.

Time really does fly… when you’re having fun.

Chris Archer Uncategorized aopa pilot magazine, cessna, checkride, flying magazine, Glass Cockpit, LSA, palo alto airport

I’m not sure about you, but sometimes I have trouble simply concentrating on my next radio call to air traffic control.  But sex in the cockpit?  Are you kidding me?

A Southern California helicopter pilot is no longer joking around after the NTSB this week affirmed the FAA’s decision to revoke his license.

This, after a videotape surfaced showing David Martz doing, well, more than making radio calls while piloting his chopper over San Diego.

Yes, I’ve seen the video.  And if you’re old enough – and not near your boss – you can too by clicking here.

The FAA claims Martz was distracted and couldn’t reach the controls as a porn star exercised her own version of “cockpit resource management” at low altitude along the California coast.

I’ve got to side with the FAA on this one.  I don’t want someone flying over my house or near my kids in a sophisticated machine with whirling-blades and loaded with fuel, just to make a few bucks or prove that it can be done.  Save those tricks for the bedroom.  Or even the car.

But I’m also not naive.  I’m sure cross-country, or even routine flights get monotonous for experienced pilots.  And unlike in a car, the autopilot does do an amazing job taking care of the controls while cruising over the seemingly endless countryside.

It wouldn’t surprise me if more pilots have created their own Mile High Club.  They just weren’t dumb enough to record it.  Well, maybe in their logbooks.

And I won’t lie.  The thought has certainly crossed my mind while driving a Cessna, but not for more than an instant.

After all, I’m just trying to perfect my landings.

Chris Archer Uncategorized cessna, cockpit sex, david martz, FAA, Mile High Club, NTSB

After going years without a streak of airline crashes, suddenly they’ve become a weekly headline.

And the investigations are starting to paint a new picture of how a little button in the cockpit might be leading to some very big problems.

Over Buffalo, New York, the autopilot aboard Continental Flight 3407 apparently fooled the pilots into thinking all was under control as the brand-new Q400 teetered on the edge of a stall, draped in a coat of dangerous ice.

Just one hand on the control column might have detected some mushiness minutes, or even seconds, before the point of no return.

Now to Amsterdam, where a Turkish Airlines flight slammed into the ground after investigators say, guess what, the autopilot reduced power, thinking the machine was ready to flare.  The only problem: the plane was still at 1,900 feet and about a mile from the threshold.

Sure, blame the faulty altimeter.  But guess, what?  Shouldn’t the pilots be cross-checking, and ready to intervene?  Perhaps their minds were elsewhere, thinking their shiny new Boeing 737-800 was invincible.

Of course, the autopilot can be credited with saving quite a few confused, disoriented, or just plain unqualified pilots from doom.  But there’s something to be said about hand-flying.  Just ask Sully.

Captain Sullenberger used his bare hands in the worst possible situation, and guided US Air Flight 1549 to the best possible outcome.  No autopilot.

So as our Cessnas and Cirrus’ become more sophisticated, these accidents point to one major flaw in technology: it can never keep up with the intuition of the mind.  So use both, not just one.

Chris Archer Uncategorized 737-800, altimeter crash, amsterdam crash, autopilot, boeing 737, cessna, cirrus, Continental Flight 3407, Q400, turkish airlines crash, US Air 1549