Question:
No bloody wonder I’ve gone grey
Oh, is that what causes it…. nothing to do with getting old, then….
Too busy being young and spritely (and telling lies) to get old
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Anyway, in the absence of the reference, here’s the full text: A Lesson on Light This article describes some lessons I learned on a trip from Parafield …snip….. Never been so pleased to see runway lights appear in front of us – while we were at less than 200 ft in torrential rain! :-) No bloody wonder I’ve gone grey
Oh, is that what causes it…. nothing to do with getting old, then…. Coop
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – See my article in an old issue of Aviation Safety Digest for a discussion of how you can get yourself into this pickle, and how you can luck yourself out of it….. Bugger, do you mean I have to root around among the dust and dead moths again? Surely someone here has them all catallogg…cattal…sorted? Coop Yep
Ah…found it at last. It was printed in Asia-Pacific Air Safety, June, 1995. Coop
Response:
Anyway, in the absence of the reference, here’s the full text: A Lesson on Light This article describes some lessons I learned on a trip from Parafield
Thinking about it, it seems that only in a/c can you have a long crisis. Hmmm – or maybe in boats as well? In other forms of transportation if things go bad the results are immediate. Thanks for the post – I can relate to that
I have been in a worse spot, but there were 2 pilots and I wasn’t PIC so could do the nav while he kept the greasy side down
In our case we were at the end of a day-long circuit of aerial seeding in a PA32-260 with only stat reserves when we hit storms close to home on last light. Vis went way down as you said and we ended up following the shiny river at zot – at least you could see that. Very ordinary – ended up landing on our (by then) closed-to-IFR aerodrome in a thunderstorm. I don’t think a single pilot (either me or him) could have managed it – the workload was too high. Hmm – I’m sure I couldn’t have done it by myself, anyway – maybe he could have… Fortunately the tower knew perfectly well the pickle we were in and we and they were very careful about the radio transmissions so there was no paperwork. Would have been a waste of time anyway – nobody did anything wrong – it just happened. Never been so pleased to see runway lights appear in front of us – while we were at less than 200 ft in torrential rain! :-) No bloody wonder I’ve gone grey
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – See my article in an old issue of Aviation Safety Digest for a discussion of how you can get yourself into this pickle, and how you can luck yourself out of it….. And the reference is:- Bugger, do you mean I have to root around among the dust and dead moths again? Surely someone here has them all catallogg…cattal…sorted? Coop Yep Sorry- blew the dust away, evicted the bugs, but no luck. Issue No 147 is missing and that’s about the right time, or else its after issue number 150- I don’t seem to have any after that (maybe it finished then?). Coop Yep. Googled the history and found that 150 was the last one. So it must be in 147. Someone out there will have it…. Coop The Navigator has just reminded me that the original was produced on the computer and so is probably in the archives- and she was right (bless her….) The creation date for the file was June 1993, so it looks like it must have been published in something other than ASD, probably whatever came after that (Air Safety?). Anyway, in the absence of the reference, here’s the full text: A Lesson on Light This article describes some lessons I learned on a trip from Parafield to Port Pirie and return in less than ideal conditions. Maybe others can learn from it too. I’d prepared carefully for the flight, because I knew I wouldn’t have much time to spare at my destination (Port Pirie), where the pressure would be on to get done all the things I’d planned for the day. Having not done much mid-winter flying before, I’d also carefully worked out the time of last light from the daylight and darkness graphs. My calculations showed a last light time of 0824 UTC, or 1754 local time. So, given a flight time of around 1 hour from Pt Pirie to Parafield, that meant the absolute latest departure time would be about 1640 to see me home by ten minutes before last light. I intended to leave myself a good half hour before last light anyway, so I aimed to be airborne by 0645 UTC, or 1615 local time. I obtained the weather from briefing, which gave two sets of figures, north and south of a line Pt Lincoln-Loxton. Figuring I’d be in the northern part of this most of the way, I used these figures to work out the time intervals to Dublin and Outer Harbour. On arrival at the airfield, it was obvious from the wind on the ground that I should have used the other figures, so I quickly re-calculated the time intervals, got airborne, and set heading at 1500′ at 0650 UTC, five minutes later than I’d planned. There was a heavy shower south of Pirie, so I deviated west of track to get around it, and then found another one in the way. Things were now clearer to the east, but this would mean crossing the hummocks at a point where they were higher than I’d intended, so I called the Adelaide FIS and advised them that I would be cruising at 2000′ from around Bute to Bowmans and queried any IFR traffic. There was none, so I climbed to 2000, crossed the hummocks, and turned south again for Dublin, dropping down to 1500′ again as I did so. The air was clear now as far south as I could see, although there was still a heavy overcast, making it dim enough in the cockpit for the illumination on the radio dials to be obvious. I knew the diversions had cost me some time, but I was confident of still having sufficient margin. Shortly after passing Port Wakefield, I noticed that one or two of the cars on the main highway had their lights on. Although the sky to my west was still quite bright, and I could still see the ground, I was beginning to have doubts as to how much longer the light would last. A rough calculation produced a bit of a surprise. I estimated I would pass Dublin about 0755, and with a further 15 minutes to Outer Harbour, plus about 5 minutes to get in to Parafield, I would be landing at 0815, just on ten minutes before last light- that was cutting it a bit fine. I advanced the throttle for a few extra knots and thought some more. It looked like the diversions had eaten up all of my margin. That, and the thick cloud, could explain the reducing light. I should make it O.K., although the cloud cover was obviously going to mean that things would be pretty dim by the time I got to Parafield. Still, it looked to me like it was duller than it should be. Better check… "Adelaide, this is Bravo Whiskey Echo, can you confirm time of last light for Adelaide please" "Bravo Whiskey Echo, stand by… Bravo Whiskey Echo, last light at Adelaide is 0809" That was a shock. Last light before my estimate for touch down. I wasted about 20 seconds wondering how that could have happened and then realised I’d be better off just accepting the facts and looking at my options. I was in the poo, all right. I knew there was a strip used by the parachute jumpers at Lower Light, which wasn’t far off, but I wasn’t familiar with it, wasn’t absolutely sure of its location, and in the by now steadily fading light I wouldn’t be able to check out its condition, power lines, obstacles, etc. Then there was Edinburgh- big runway, good lighting, and further off, but I might be able to make it with enough light to land if I went direct. I called Adelaide, said I couldn’t make Parafield by last light and told them what I thought my options were. They suggested Balaklava, but I discarded this as no better than Lower Light, and probably harder to find. I noted Dublin underneath at 0753. Two minutes earlier than I’d guessed. That put me at Outer Harbour at 0808. Too late, better go for Edinburgh. Adelaide asked if I thought I could reach Edinburgh. They were thinking the same way I was. Good. I asked them to stand by while I did some rough estimates. By now I had to turn the instrument lights up to see clearly what I was doing in the cockpit. Edinburgh was about 20 miles, and I knew I was making at least 100 knots, which should put me there in about 12 minutes, or at about 0805. Navigation should be easy, just follow the highway. I called Adelaide, said I could make Edinburgh and requested a clearance. I was already heading that way when the clearance came through. By now the ground was starting to fade, all the cars had their lights on, and I was starting to wonder if a white cane might not come in handy. The real meaning of last light was becoming apparent. Obviously the cloud cover was making it worse, but I knew that within a few minutes I would effectively be flying night VFR (un-rated), whether or not last light had actually arrived. I was very thankful it wasn’t raining. Shortly afterwards I had a conversation with the Edinburgh tower controller, who cleared me to land. She then advised that Adelaide radar had calculated that with my present ground speed I could make Parafield before last light. By this stage I’d managed to confuse Edinburgh with Parafield in the background of twinkling lights, and figured another minute or three would hardly make any difference, since it was near enough night anyway. I saw the Edinburgh lights wink out as I passed overhead, said thanks to the young lady who had left whatever she had been doing to operate the tower for me, and proceeded on to an uneventful landing at Parafield, where I noted on short final that the white line down the middle of the runway was just visible between the rows of runway lights. Only just. What I did wrong 1. I Calculated the wrong time of last light- my pencil marks on the graphs showed that when extracting the data, I’d aligned my ruler on May 7th, not June 7th. The error wasn’t large enough to catch my attention- 1754 local time seemed about right. (It was no real consolation to discover that my calculation for May 7th (0824 UTC) was correct.) In the past, I’d always checked these calculations against the figure in the Parafield briefing office. This is one local feature that I miss since the office closed. 2. Knowing that there were isolated showers forecast, I’d failed to consider that diversions could add significantly to the flight time. On the positive side 1. I recognised that things didn’t look right, and checked my suspicions instead of rationalising them away (which I was tempted to do- the overcast was a convenient and plausible excuse.) 2. When I knew I was in a spot, I accepted it while I still had some options left and got on with considering the choices. I think the decision not to land in fading light on an unfamiliar, unlit strip, even though it was very close, was reasonable. I saw it from the air when directly overhead, but by then the light was almost gone. 3. I let the people on the ground know, so that they could offer help. They alerted Edinburgh, and having covered that option, they worked out a ground speed, and were able to offer me the choice of continuing to Parafield. This smoothed the way for me, and having them back up my reasoning as I thought my way through my predicament was a great support. Final comment This situation was more embarrassing than critical, but the position could have rapidly deteriorated if I had encountered a shower of rain or some low cloud during the last few minutes of the flight when I wouldn’t have seen it coming. To me the lessons are clear. Leave bigger margins for error in poor weather, and ask for help as soon as you think you need it.
Well done … read more »
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – See my article in an old issue of Aviation Safety Digest for a discussion of how you can get yourself into this pickle, and how you can luck yourself out of it….. Bugger, do you mean I have to root around among the dust and dead moths again? Surely someone here has them all catallogg…cattal…sorted? Coop Yep Sorry- blew the dust away, evicted the bugs, but no luck. Issue No 147 is missing and that’s about the right time, or else its after issue number 150- I don’t seem to have any after that (maybe it finished then?). Coop
Yep. Googled the history and found that 150 was the last one. So it must be in 147. Someone out there will have it…. Coop
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – See my article in an old issue of Aviation Safety Digest for a discussion of how you can get yourself into this pickle, and how you can luck yourself out of it….. Bugger, do you mean I have to root around among the dust and dead moths again? Surely someone here has them all catallogg…cattal…sorted? Coop Yep Sorry- blew the dust away, evicted the bugs, but no luck. Issue No 147 is missing and that’s about the right time, or else its after issue number 150- I don’t seem to have any after that (maybe it finished then?). Coop Yep. Googled the history and found that 150 was the last one. So it must be in 147. Someone out there will have it…. Coop
The Navigator has just reminded me that the original was produced on the computer and so is probably in the archives- and she was right (bless her….) The creation date for the file was June 1993, so it looks like it must have been published in something other than ASD, probably whatever came after that (Air Safety?). Anyway, in the absence of the reference, here’s the full text: A Lesson on Light This article describes some lessons I learned on a trip from Parafield to Port Pirie and return in less than ideal conditions. Maybe others can learn from it too. I’d prepared carefully for the flight, because I knew I wouldn’t have much time to spare at my destination (Port Pirie), where the pressure would be on to get done all the things I’d planned for the day. Having not done much mid-winter flying before, I’d also carefully worked out the time of last light from the daylight and darkness graphs. My calculations showed a last light time of 0824 UTC, or 1754 local time. So, given a flight time of around 1 hour from Pt Pirie to Parafield, that meant the absolute latest departure time would be about 1640 to see me home by ten minutes before last light. I intended to leave myself a good half hour before last light anyway, so I aimed to be airborne by 0645 UTC, or 1615 local time. I obtained the weather from briefing, which gave two sets of figures, north and south of a line Pt Lincoln-Loxton. Figuring I’d be in the northern part of this most of the way, I used these figures to work out the time intervals to Dublin and Outer Harbour. On arrival at the airfield, it was obvious from the wind on the ground that I should have used the other figures, so I quickly re-calculated the time intervals, got airborne, and set heading at 1500′ at 0650 UTC, five minutes later than I’d planned. There was a heavy shower south of Pirie, so I deviated west of track to get around it, and then found another one in the way. Things were now clearer to the east, but this would mean crossing the hummocks at a point where they were higher than I’d intended, so I called the Adelaide FIS and advised them that I would be cruising at 2000′ from around Bute to Bowmans and queried any IFR traffic. There was none, so I climbed to 2000, crossed the hummocks, and turned south again for Dublin, dropping down to 1500′ again as I did so. The air was clear now as far south as I could see, although there was still a heavy overcast, making it dim enough in the cockpit for the illumination on the radio dials to be obvious. I knew the diversions had cost me some time, but I was confident of still having sufficient margin. Shortly after passing Port Wakefield, I noticed that one or two of the cars on the main highway had their lights on. Although the sky to my west was still quite bright, and I could still see the ground, I was beginning to have doubts as to how much longer the light would last. A rough calculation produced a bit of a surprise. I estimated I would pass Dublin about 0755, and with a further 15 minutes to Outer Harbour, plus about 5 minutes to get in to Parafield, I would be landing at 0815, just on ten minutes before last light- that was cutting it a bit fine. I advanced the throttle for a few extra knots and thought some more. It looked like the diversions had eaten up all of my margin. That, and the thick cloud, could explain the reducing light. I should make it O.K., although the cloud cover was obviously going to mean that things would be pretty dim by the time I got to Parafield. Still, it looked to me like it was duller than it should be. Better check… "Adelaide, this is Bravo Whiskey Echo, can you confirm time of last light for Adelaide please" "Bravo Whiskey Echo, stand by… Bravo Whiskey Echo, last light at Adelaide is 0809" That was a shock. Last light before my estimate for touch down. I wasted about 20 seconds wondering how that could have happened and then realised I’d be better off just accepting the facts and looking at my options. I was in the poo, all right. I knew there was a strip used by the parachute jumpers at Lower Light, which wasn’t far off, but I wasn’t familiar with it, wasn’t absolutely sure of its location, and in the by now steadily fading light I wouldn’t be able to check out its condition, power lines, obstacles, etc. Then there was Edinburgh- big runway, good lighting, and further off, but I might be able to make it with enough light to land if I went direct. I called Adelaide, said I couldn’t make Parafield by last light and told them what I thought my options were. They suggested Balaklava, but I discarded this as no better than Lower Light, and probably harder to find. I noted Dublin underneath at 0753. Two minutes earlier than I’d guessed. That put me at Outer Harbour at 0808. Too late, better go for Edinburgh. Adelaide asked if I thought I could reach Edinburgh. They were thinking the same way I was. Good. I asked them to stand by while I did some rough estimates. By now I had to turn the instrument lights up to see clearly what I was doing in the cockpit. Edinburgh was about 20 miles, and I knew I was making at least 100 knots, which should put me there in about 12 minutes, or at about 0805. Navigation should be easy, just follow the highway. I called Adelaide, said I could make Edinburgh and requested a clearance. I was already heading that way when the clearance came through. By now the ground was starting to fade, all the cars had their lights on, and I was starting to wonder if a white cane might not come in handy. The real meaning of last light was becoming apparent. Obviously the cloud cover was making it worse, but I knew that within a few minutes I would effectively be flying night VFR (un-rated), whether or not last light had actually arrived. I was very thankful it wasn’t raining. Shortly afterwards I had a conversation with the Edinburgh tower controller, who cleared me to land. She then advised that Adelaide radar had calculated that with my present ground speed I could make Parafield before last light. By this stage I’d managed to confuse Edinburgh with Parafield in the background of twinkling lights, and figured another minute or three would hardly make any difference, since it was near enough night anyway. I saw the Edinburgh lights wink out as I passed overhead, said thanks to the young lady who had left whatever she had been doing to operate the tower for me, and proceeded on to an uneventful landing at Parafield, where I noted on short final that the white line down the middle of the runway was just visible between the rows of runway lights. Only just. What I did wrong 1. I Calculated the wrong time of last light- my pencil marks on the graphs showed that when extracting the data, I’d aligned my ruler on May 7th, not June 7th. The error wasn’t large enough to catch my attention- 1754 local time seemed about right. (It was no real consolation to discover that my calculation for May 7th (0824 UTC) was correct.) In the past, I’d always checked these calculations against the figure in the Parafield briefing office. This is one local feature that I miss since the office closed. 2. Knowing that there were isolated showers forecast, I’d failed to consider that diversions could add significantly to the flight time. On the positive side 1. I recognised that things didn’t look right, and checked my suspicions instead of rationalising them away (which I was tempted to do- the overcast was a convenient and plausible excuse.) 2. When I knew I was in a spot, I accepted it while I still had some options left and got on with considering the choices. I think the decision not to land in fading light on an unfamiliar, unlit strip, even though it was very close, was reasonable. I saw it from the air when directly overhead, but by then the light was almost gone. 3. I let the people on the ground know, so that they could offer help. They alerted Edinburgh, and having covered that option, they worked out a ground speed, and were able to offer me the choice of continuing to Parafield. This smoothed the way for me, and having them back up my reasoning as I thought my way through my predicament was a great support. Final comment This situation was more embarrassing than critical, but the position could have rapidly deteriorated if I had encountered a shower of rain or some low cloud during the last few minutes of the flight when I wouldn’t have seen it coming. To me the lessons are clear. Leave bigger margins for error in poor weather, and ask for help as soon as you think you need it.
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – See my article in an old issue of Aviation Safety Digest for a discussion of how you can get yourself into this pickle, and how you can luck yourself out of it….. Bugger, do you mean I have to root around among the dust and dead moths again? Surely someone here has them all catallogg…cattal…sorted? Coop
Yep
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – See my article in an old issue of Aviation Safety Digest for a discussion of how you can get yourself into this pickle, and how you can luck yourself out of it….. Bugger, do you mean I have to root around among the dust and dead moths again? Surely someone here has them all catallogg…cattal…sorted? Coop Yep
Sorry- blew the dust away, evicted the bugs, but no luck. Issue No 147 is missing and that’s about the right time, or else its after issue number 150- I don’t seem to have any after that (maybe it finished then?). Coop
Response:
See my article in an old issue of Aviation Safety Digest for a discussion of how you can get yourself into this pickle, and how you can luck yourself out of it…..
Response:
MIL80C said…. BTW, "fly" here is defined as defying the law of gravity.
I thought that it was throwing yourself at the ground and missing…..
Response:
See my article in an old issue of Aviation Safety Digest for a discussion of how you can get yourself into this pickle, and how you can luck yourself out of it…..
Bugger, do you mean I have to root around among the dust and dead moths again? Surely someone here has them all catallogg…cattal…sorted? Coop
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hi guys, Looking through AIP and CAO’s, cant find information regarding the requirements for VFR and EoD. I am aware that you must be at a destination 10mins before last light however, I recall that you must be in the circuit pattern before EoD… Is this correct, or is the ruling you must be on the ground. ENR 1.2-1, paragraph 1.1.2 does not actually stipulate this! Any advice, Jad depending on where you are and what weather is lurking on the western horizon you can be in deep shit long before official last light. if there is a sea mist/fog forming you can be in deeper shit still. the requirement is that you dont kill yourself. the law words this with some odd terminology at times. like "vfr flights must end 10 minutes before last light." what they mean is that last light can be like switching off the light in a dark room so be on the ground before the light goes out. remember, when the top of the suns disk dips below the horizon you have no more than 20 minutes to unflyable darkness. dont wait for 19 minutes to panic, plan your way out of the guano there and then. oh a definition of darkness. when the instruments on the panel in front of you are not visible. deep shit is a technical term, believe it or not, for the situation where not only the instruments but the entire panel is not visible and you discover that the cockpit light has blown sometime in the previous half hour. Stealth (do as I say not as I do! ) Pilot See my article in an old issue of Aviation Safety Digest for a discussion of how you can get yourself into this pickle, and how you can luck yourself out of it….. Stealth is right- there are some days where a landing after official last light is still a feasible proposition, and there are some days where its as black as the inside of a dog’s guts before official last light. Learn about what makes the difference and plan accordingly. I usually plan to be on the ground half an hour before last light. I had to work at convincing the Navigator that being late is not a good idea when it comes to landings- until she saw the shadows lengthening as we approached Kyabram one late afternoon. (No trouble since then.) We hadn’t been there before, so we had a backup plan of another airfield a few miles back which had PAL. It’s worth learning how to use PAL even if you are not night rated- it could save your life one day. Coop
And another thing- even if you can’t afford a NVFR rating, a few night circuits with an instructor are an excellent experience to have tucked away in your memory banks for the day you stuff up badly and find the sun setting before you’ve arrived…. Coop
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hi guys, Looking through AIP and CAO’s, cant find information regarding the requirements for VFR and EoD. I am aware that you must be at a destination 10mins before last light however, I recall that you must be in the circuit pattern before EoD… Is this correct, or is the ruling you must be on the ground. ENR 1.2-1, paragraph 1.1.2 does not actually stipulate this! Any advice, Jad depending on where you are and what weather is lurking on the western horizon you can be in deep shit long before official last light. if there is a sea mist/fog forming you can be in deeper shit still. the requirement is that you dont kill yourself. the law words this with some odd terminology at times. like "vfr flights must end 10 minutes before last light." what they mean is that last light can be like switching off the light in a dark room so be on the ground before the light goes out. remember, when the top of the suns disk dips below the horizon you have no more than 20 minutes to unflyable darkness. dont wait for 19 minutes to panic, plan your way out of the guano there and then. oh a definition of darkness. when the instruments on the panel in front of you are not visible. deep shit is a technical term, believe it or not, for the situation where not only the instruments but the entire panel is not visible and you discover that the cockpit light has blown sometime in the previous half hour. Stealth (do as I say not as I do! ) Pilot
See my article in an old issue of Aviation Safety Digest for a discussion of how you can get yourself into this pickle, and how you can luck yourself out of it….. Stealth is right- there are some days where a landing after official last light is still a feasible proposition, and there are some days where its as black as the inside of a dog’s guts before official last light. Learn about what makes the difference and plan accordingly. I usually plan to be on the ground half an hour before last light. I had to work at convincing the Navigator that being late is not a good idea when it comes to landings- until she saw the shadows lengthening as we approached Kyabram one late afternoon. (No trouble since then.) We hadn’t been there before, so we had a backup plan of another airfield a few miles back which had PAL. It’s worth learning how to use PAL even if you are not night rated- it could save your life one day. Coop
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – depending on where you are and what weather is lurking on the western horizon you can be in deep shit long before official last light. if there is a sea mist/fog forming you can be in deeper shit still. the requirement is that you dont kill yourself. the law words this with some odd terminology at times. like "vfr flights must end 10 minutes before last light." what they mean is that last light can be like switching off the light in a dark room so be on the ground before the light goes out. remember, when the top of the suns disk dips below the horizon you have no more than 20 minutes to unflyable darkness. dont wait for 19 minutes to panic, plan your way out of the guano there and then. oh a definition of darkness. when the instruments on the panel in front of you are not visible. deep shit is a technical term, believe it or not, for the situation where not only the instruments but the entire panel is not visible and you discover that the cockpit light has blown sometime in the previous half hour.
And the torch with its’ corroded batteries is safely stowed in the rear storage area.
Response:
Hi guys, Looking through AIP and CAO’s, cant find information regarding the requirements for VFR and EoD. I am aware that you must be at a destination 10mins before last light however, I recall that you must be in the circuit pattern before EoD… Is this correct, or is the ruling you must be on the ground. ENR 1.2-1, paragraph 1.1.2 does not actually stipulate this! Any advice, Jad
depending on where you are and what weather is lurking on the western horizon you can be in deep shit long before official last light. if there is a sea mist/fog forming you can be in deeper shit still. the requirement is that you dont kill yourself. the law words this with some odd terminology at times. like "vfr flights must end 10 minutes before last light." what they mean is that last light can be like switching off the light in a dark room so be on the ground before the light goes out. remember, when the top of the suns disk dips below the horizon you have no more than 20 minutes to unflyable darkness. dont wait for 19 minutes to panic, plan your way out of the guano there and then. oh a definition of darkness. when the instruments on the panel in front of you are not visible. deep shit is a technical term, believe it or not, for the situation where not only the instruments but the entire panel is not visible and you discover that the cockpit light has blown sometime in the previous half hour. Stealth (do as I say not as I do! ) Pilot
Response:
Hi guys, Looking through AIP and CAO’s, cant find information regarding the requirements for VFR and EoD. I am aware that you must be at a destination 10mins before last light however, I recall that you must be in the circuit pattern before EoD… Is this correct, or is the ruling you must be on the ground. ENR 1.2-1, paragraph 1.1.2 does not actually stipulate this! Any advice, Jad
Response:
Hi guys, Looking through AIP and CAO’s, cant find information regarding the requirements for VFR and EoD. I am aware that you must be at a destination 10mins before last light however, I recall that you must be in the circuit pattern before EoD… Is this correct, or is the ruling you must be on the ground. ENR 1.2-1, paragraph 1.1.2 does not actually stipulate this!
I’m not a pilot, I’m an Air Trafficker, but I would suggest that the rules are quite simple, do not fly after the end of Last Light or before First Light. So that would mean dollop your dunlops on the runway one minute after Last Light and the CASA bloke that everyone knows hides behind the Terminal for just this occasion will leap out and cast a nasty spell on you. BTW, "fly" here is defined as defying the law of gravity. I would suggest you could taxy all round the manoeuvering area to your hearts content all night long. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Any advice, Jad
Response: