Follow the Rules, Follow your Nose

I heard a fascinating exchange the other day between an Oakland Center controller and a pilot who was flying into Little River, near Mendicino on the northern California coast. The important background for this exchange is that weather at Little River is often IFR and this airport does not (yet) have any instrument approach procedures. Apparently the county and the airport association have been working for several years to get an RNAV approach to runways 29 and 11, but I gather there are several hurdles left to clear.

One important accomplishment is that the airport recently installed an automated weather observing system (AWOS-3) that can be accessed on the airport's common traffic advisory frequency. So it is likely the pilot I heard who was inbound for landing at Little River had received the "one minute weather" from the AWOS. Either that or he couldn't see the airport because he asked Oakland Center for a contact approach, which indicated to me that the aircraft was operating under instrument flight rules (IFR).

To my surprise, the center controller approved his request, terminated radar service, cleared him to the airport's advisory frequency, and asked him to cancel on the center frequency or on the ground with flight service. Here's an excerpt from the Low Altitude En Route chart that shows Little River. Note that the airport symbol (which I've circled in red) is rendered in brown ink, meaning the airport has no instrument approach procedures.



To readers who are not familiar the term "contact approach," it is procedure conducted under instrument flight rules that allows a pilot to proceed with visual references to an airport. In the U.S., the pilot must be operating clear of clouds, have at least 1 mile flight visibility, and must reasonably expect to be able to continue to the destination airport in these conditions. Like a Special VFR clearance, a controller cannot offer a contact approach, the pilot must request it.

I was startled that the Oakland Center controller approved the pilot's request for a contact approach because, to my knowledge, the airport has no instrument approaches available. Section 5-4-24(c) of the Aeronautical Information Manual is very clear about this, so I'll just quote it (emphasis mine):

A contact approach is an approach procedure that may be used by a pilot (with prior authorization from ATC) in lieu of conducting a standard or special IAP to an airport. It is not intended for use by a pilot on an IFR flight clearance to operate to an airport not having a published and functioning IAP. Nor is it intended for an aircraft to conduct an instrument approach to one airport and then, when "in the clear," discontinue that approach and proceed to another airport. In the execution of a contact approach, the pilot assumes the responsibility for obstruction clearance. If radar service is being received, it will automatically terminate when the pilot is instructed to change to advisory frequency.

So either there's a special instrument approach procedure into Little River of which I'm unaware or the controller should not have approved the pilot's request for a contact approach.



The airspace around Little River is Class G (uncontrolled airspace) up to 1200 feet AGL (above ground level). Above 1200 feet is Class E (controlled airspace). I've heard many a hair-raising tale about pilots scud running their way into Little River and it always seems the pilot involved was heavily under the influence of "getthereitus." If you can stay clear of the clouds at or below 1200 feet AGL and you have 1 mile visibility, you're legal to try to fly VFR into Little River. But just because it's legal doesn't mean it's a smart thing to do.

As to why an FAA air traffic controller would clear someone for a contact approach into an airport that doesn't have an instrument approach procedure, well I'm still trying to figure out that one. Perhaps it is due to the influx of so many newly hired controllers or some other factor of which I am not aware ...

California's Burning

While the midwest is soaked and flooded, Northern California is choked with smoke. Here's a listing of today's TFRs (Temorary Flight Restrictions). All but one of the blue dots that depicts the various TFR are associated with a wildfire. From Big Sur (just south of Monterey) to Mt. Shasta, over 800 fires are burning and most are less than 40% contained.

Low winds have kept the fires from getting even larger, but the lack of wind has also created a smoke inversion layer. The visibility and air quality in the SF Bay Area has been pretty bad, but it's even worse in the Livermore and Central Valleys. As a result, flying has been a bit constrained. I did a couple of practice approaches into Concord and afterward, I felt as if I'd smoked two packs of Gauloises.

I hope these fires come under control pretty soon. Unfortunately, the forecast for this weekend is predicting dry lightning.

Caribbean Conclusions

At the end of any trip comes the inevitable realizations about lessons learned as well as the comparisons and contrasts. Before I get to that, I'd like to ask readers who find my blog useful to consider making a donation to support my continued efforts. Over the last two-plus years, I've been writing regular blog entries that I hope are informative, useful, and entertaining. Writing takes time and, well, time is money.

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After 4 weeks "on the road," here are my observations about radio work, position reporting, paperwork, fueling, immigration/customs, weather briefings, airport security, and GA flying versus airline flying.

Aviation Phraseology

Purists insist that rules about communication need to be followed, and to a degree they are correct. I consider myself to be a bit of a purist, by the way. Rules and accepted phrases are intended to allow pilots and controllers to communicate efficiently and prevent mistakes, but rules can't cover every situation. In spite of efforts to standardize what is said on the radio, there will be local variations and spur of the moment improvisations because rules can't cover everything. For pilots who intend to travel to the Caribbean, here are my suggestions for radio communications.

If you don't understand what a controller has said because of their accent or phraseology, don't delay responding while you try to puzzle out what they said. Instead, promptly reply with something like "I'm sorry, could you say again please, slowly ..." If you think you know what has been communicated, but are not sure, then by all means paraphrase what you have heard and don't fret too much about phraseology. Remember that the goal is communication - the exchange of meaningful information - not a stylized dance.

If you are a U.S. pilot, get used to including November in your callsign. The usual practice in the U.S. is to omit the November part of your callsign when you include your aircraft manufacturer or model. Outside the U.S., the November prefix needs to be included. You may find the habit of omitting November to be as tough to break as I did.

There often will be no radar service in the areas in which you have choosen to fly, so brush up on position reporting. A abbreviated position report format is PTA-Next, which stands for:

Position (name of the fix)
Time (in Zulu)
Altitude (or flight level)
Next fix and your estimate for reaching that fix.

This is especially useful when handed off from one ATC facility to another, for example:

Raizet approach, November 1234 Delta, MEDUS, level niner zero, 1933 Zulu, estimating TASAR at 1950 Zulu

Approaching a terminal area that has no radar, expect to be asked to report your position relative to a VOR or NDB:

Say your distance and radial from Alpha November Uniform VOR

You can preempt this request by offering it when you check in:

V.C. Bird approach, November 1234 Delta, level niner zero, 25 miles out, ANU 192 radial, information Foxtrot

During pre-flight planning and while en route, pay particular attention to FIR (flight information region) boundaries. They are depicted on Jepp and FAA IFR low altitude en route charts as well as on World Aeronautical charts. You can be prepared to provide an estimate to the FIR boundary by including the fix that falls on the boundary in your GPS flight plan, if you are GPS equipped.

You will probably be asked to "Report your estimate crossing the boundary" or "Report crossing the boundary," which mean when you think you'll cross the FIR boundary or when you are actually crossing it, respectively. Below is an excerpt from the Caribbean Low Altitude En Route Chart and you can see the blue dotted line representing FIR boundary around the Turks and Caicos. I've circled MICAS, a waypoint you might enter into your GPS flight plan if you were inbound on the airway A555.


Here are a few phrases that I got used to hearing and their U.S. equivalent:

"November 34 Delta, you are radar identified" = Radar contact.
"Say your leaving level" = Say altitude or flight level you are descending through.
"Say your passing level" = Say altitude or flight level you are climbing through.
"Backtrack runway zero seven" = Backtaxi on runway seven.
"November 34 Delta, copy ATC clearance." = IFR clearance available, advise ready to copy (Be prepared to do this while taxiing).
"I'll call you back" = Standby

Paperwork, Flight Plans, Customs

Become familiar with ICAO flight plan forms. They aren't difficult, they're just different. Both DUAT and DUATS offer HTML version of these that you can experiment with, but remember that flight plans originating outside the U.S. and its territories will need to be filed with the local ATC authority. This means you'll have to use the paper version and fax it or hand-carry it to the appropriate office.

Below is an excerpt of a DUAT ICAO flight plan form. When you specify your aircraft's equipment, start with S (for standard) and then include every other type of capability your aircraft has. The Duchess I was flying was GPS equipped with two VOR receivers, two glideslope receivers, and DME so the acronym I came up with was SD GLO. The RMK section is where you can enter remarks and I always put ADCUS, which is supposed to indicate to ATC that they should "advise customs" at your destination on your behalf prior to your arrival. Prior notification of customs is a requirement for all countries.

The part of the ICAO flight plan that references dinghy is referring to what you might know as a life raft. You'll need to put the number of life rafts, the number of people the rafts can hold, whether or not they are covered, their color, and the survival equipment it includes. Next comes emergency radio equipment, survival equipment and life jackets.

When flying in the Caribbean you are required to carry a life raft and one life jacket for each occupant. Most commercial life raft you can purchase come with a survival kit that includes signal flares and other equipment. I strongly recommend that you also have a hand-held, waterproof VHF transceiver and a 406 Mhz GPS personal emergency locator beacon. Lastly, enter your fuel endurance in hours and minutes.


Learn about General Declarations or gendecs. You can download a PDF version here. Here's an example of how you might fill one out. Be sure you have at least four copies of your inbound gendec when arriving and four copies of your outbound when departing.

Customs Handling

Though it can be costly, you can save a lot of time and hassle by contracting with a handling service if your destination is at a large airport. The handler will expedite the processing of your gendecs, get you through immigration/customs, direct you to where you pay landing and departure fees, and arrange re-fueling. Handling service charges range from $100US to as much as $250US and you can usually find the appropriate phone numbers in the Bahamas and Caribbean Pilot's Guide.

There is generally less hassle and less waiting at smaller airports of entry where you may be able to figure out your own handling without much trouble.

Landing fees and taxes are usually not payable with a credit card. Some offices accept the EC (Eastern Caribbean dollar), others want Euros or U.S. dollars, so call ahead or just always have plenty of cash with you. Larger airports usually have ATMs that may allow you to obtain the local currency.

Fuel

Fuel can be very expensive and at many smaller airports, 100 low-lead aviation gasoline is often not available. Again, check the excellent Bahamas and Caribbean Pilot's Guide for phone numbers and details.

Where fuel is available, credit cards may not be accepted and you may have to pay in cash. U.S. dollars seem to be preferred or, in some cases, required. Phone ahead to be sure fuel is available and to learn of the payment methods accepted.

I recommend supervising the re-fueling process. Afterward, always check the fuel quality carefully. I found traces of water and debris after being refueled in a couple of places. I recommend the GAT jar for sumping fuel because you can easily drain a substantial amount for a more thorough inspection.

Weather Briefing and Thunderstorms

Detailed weather data can be hard to come by in many parts of the Caribbean. METARs and TAFs (airport weather observations and forecasts) can be had through a variety of sources, but the forecasts can be annoyingly vague. Pilot reports and winds aloft forecast seem to be rare or non-existant. Here's what a DUAT output looked like for part of my trip. Not much information, is it?

Nexrad images are available for Puerto Rico, but other than the long range base reflectivity product there are no other weather radar products that I could find. Various satellite images are available and there is a high level prog chart that gives you an overall idea for the Caribbean weather patterns.

Many airports do not broadcast any surface weather conditions over the radio, but some do so over the voice portion of a VOR. The tower (if there is one) will provide you with the conditions, otherwise you are on your own.

I found most thunderstorms to be isolated and easy to see and avoid, but embedded thunderstorms are possible. The XM weather feature on our hand-held Garmin 496 quit working after we left Providenciales and didn't work again until we returned to the U.S. mainland. Pilots of GA aircraft without on-board radar need to weigh their options and risks carefully. If you don't have radar or a strike finder and you can't stay in visual conditions while you maneuver around build-ups, you probably shouldn't be flying. Flying early in the morning can help you avoid most thunderstorms. If you're faced with an approaching thunderstorm, delaying your departure by only a few hours or a day may be all that's needed to substantially reduce your risk.

Get used to writing down two altimeter settings and taking note of the transition altitude for the area in which you are flying. You'll use QNH when you're below the transition altitude. Above the transition altitude you'll refer to your altitude as a flight level (or just level) and set QFE on your altimeter. Some ATC facilities see that you are a U.S. registered aircraft and provide the altimeter settings in inches of mercury as a courtesy, but don't count on it. Some altimeters display millibars and inches of mercury in separate Kollsman windows and you can set the G1000 preferences to millibars. Otherwise, you should have a millibars to inches conversion table handy.

Airport Security

I don't recall seeing armed police presence at any of the Caribbean airports I visited, save the ones in U.S. territories. Another difference between U.S. CBP and immigration/customs in Caribbean countries is the manner in which you are treated. In Caribbean countries, the authorities may search your bags, examine your travel documents, and ask you questions about your travel plans, but the people doing this are not armed and only once (in Trinidad) did I feel there might be a presumption that I was guilty until proven innocent. The U.S. TSA posts signs promising to treat you with dignity and concern, but the very fact they have to post such a sign seems intended to prepare you for just the opposite. In the countries to which I traveled, I was generally treated with respect by people who felt no need to post a sign saying that this would be the case.

Outside the U.S., pilots are referred to as "captain," a title of respect that recognizes you are in command of an aircraft. I felt U.S. Customs and Border Protection and TSA officers simply saw me as a potential threat. When they determined that I wasn't, they just dismissed me and went on to the next potential "target." Be prepared for culture shock if you re-enter the U.S. or one if its territories after spending a bunch of time in other parts of the Caribbean.

My comments and opinions are based on my firsthand experiences and it is not my intent to stir patriotic fervor or righteous indignation in my U.S. readers. If you don't like what I've said here, by all means feel free to disagree. Remember that the U.S. is (or at least was) based on the freedom to dissent, not the requirement to conform to one accepted viewpoint.

Flying Yourself versus The Airlines

Piloting an aircraft through Caribbean airspace will take longer and cost more than being transported in an airliner, but the GA route is a heck of a lot more fun and, in some cases, substantially faster.

Take our return flight from V.C. Bird airport in Antigua to San Juan, Puerto Rico on American Airlines. We arrived at 1pm for a 3:05 departure. We allowed plenty of time to get through the lines for departure tax (yes, there's a tax even for airline passengers), immigration, and security. Then we waited about an hour and a half before they began boarding the aircraft.

Near as I can tell from the cabin announcement, the 757's APU was deferred (inoperative) and we required an "air cart" (a supply of high pressure air) to start the first engine. Getting the air cart took about 30 minutes and while we waited on the ramp in the blazing sun and high humidity, we essentially had no air conditioning. The cabin crew was great. They opened a couple of doors for better ventilation and the flight crew did their best to keep us up-to-date on what was happening.

Once the air cart arrived and the engines were finally started, we had air conditioning and there was more bad news. We were already over 45 minutes late for our departure when the captain informed us there would be an indeterminate delay: The tower had informed them "something was on the runway." No one knew exactly what was on the runway, but we sat and waited, and waited, and waited. After nearly two hours of waiting on the ramp, we finally made our way to the runway for takeoff. During this time, the cabin crew handed out ice water, even though no refreshments were scheduled for what should have been a short 45 minute flight.

We never found out what was on the runway or why it took so long to clear, but I have a theory. I had landed on the same runway the day before and had noticed that two large, parallel strips of pavement at the threshold had recently been surfaced. On the landing rollout the previous evening, I could smell the fresh asphalt and oil. In addition, there was no white center line stripe for the first 900 feet or so. My theory, and it's just that, was some of that fresh pavement buckled or otherwise deteriorated. This is a plausable theory since a Virgin Atlantic 747 and some other pretty big aircraft had arrived earlier in the day. When we took the runway for takeoff, I noticed that a new white stripe had been painted since I landed the evening before.

We finally arrived at San Juan a little past 7pm, over 3 hours late. On the way, there was a loud, troubling, low-frequency buzz coming from the left engine. It changed with the power settings and was very pronounced at takeoff and climb thrust, but diminished at cruise and went away almost entirely during descent. Departing the aircraft after landing, I passed the head flight attendant and mentioned "I hope the flight crew knows about that nasty low-frequency vibration on the number one engine." He gave me a sort of dismissive smile and said "I'm sure they do, sir, I'm sure they do."

Had we flown the Duchess to San Juan, we could have arrived at the airport at noon and it is very likely that by 1pm, we would have finished the preflight, had our gendec paperwork, and our flight plan filed. The flight to San Juan would have taken about 1 hour and 45 minutes - arriving at approximately 2:45pm. After landing, clearing immigration, customs, and paying our landing fees would have taken about 45 minutes, putting us curbside at about 3:30pm which would have been 25 minutes past the scheduled departure time of our airline flight. The Duchess would have arrived nearly an hour earlier that the scheduled airline arrival at San Juan or more than 4 hours before our delayed arrival.

But you ask, how could the Duchess have departed if there was something on the runway? Well it turns out the tower was allowing intersection departures on the runway, but the takeoff distance remaining was too short for a 757. So the Duchess could have beat the airlines handily, albeit at a higher cost. Of course the airlines have more sophisticated equipment that would have made the flight safer had the weather been bad.

There ends my Caribbean Conclusions. I hope my little travelogue has been informative, interesting, and that it may encourage other U.S. pilots to explore the Caribbean themselves.

Spice Island

Today's flight was to be the last one and would allow the airplane's owner to meet his insurance requirements for dual instruction. Our destination was Point Salines International Airport in Grenada with the contingency plan being a second, shorter VFR tour of Montserrat if we needed to log a bit more dual. I forgot to install the rechargable battery in my camera, which was still in the charger at the hotel, so no pictures on this trip.

We departed V.C. Bird after backtracking on the runway. I was aware that a British Airways flight was inbound to the airport, the tower asked us to expedite, but there was only so much we could do: The runway is nearly 9000 feet long and we entered the runway very near the departure end. As usual, the tower gave us our clearance as we were backtracking on the runway. I can't imagine why this is the standard procedure at so many airports in this area. I even heard a Liat Q400 that was holding short for landing traffic ask if their clearance was available. The tower just didn't seem to understand that it would be much safer if the IFR clearance was given while their aircraft was standing still.

About a third of the way down the runway, the tower told us to turn around abeam taxiway alpha and we were cleared for takeoff. As the airplane's owner turned the plane around, I asked the tower "say available takeoff distance from taxiway alpha." There was several seconds of silence, then they responded 1200 meters. I did an approximate conversion to feet and satisfied there was room, we started the takeoff roll.

About 30 miles from Guadeloupe, Raizet Approach offered us direct to GND (the Grenada VOR). We accepted immediately because our ground speed was a miserable 123 knots. It was obvious that we had a nasty headwind and the shortcut would save us some time. This provided a good opportunity to review the Garmin 530's winds aloft calculator and sure enough, we had a 30 plus knot wind, pretty much on the nose. But direct GND also took us away from Guadeloupe and I think the controller knew he was doing us another favor: There were several towering cumulonimbus clouds over the island and I wasn't excited at the prospect of flying near them.

I have enjoyed working with the French-speaking air traffic controllers of La Raziet and Martinique Approach. Sometimes their accent combines my unfamiliarity with the local navigation fixes and names to produce confusion, but the thing I like about them is that they are professional, polite, and cordial: Good traits in an air traffic controller. They also have radar, which seems to be in short supply in the Eastern Caribbean.

We were told by the Point Salines approach controller to report the island in sight for a visual approach, but we asked for the full VOR/DME runway 10 approach for training purposes. Not a problem, we were just asked to report turning outbound on the approach. The airplane's owner did a nice job flying a partial panel approach, complete with procedure turn. We landed with a stiff crosswind and made our way to parking.



Ground handling had been arranged by the airplane's owner and everything went smoothly. The fuel was expensive - $6.89US/gallon and only cash was accepted. We went through customs, paid the landing fee, got out outbound gendec stamped, filed the flight plan, and had time for a quick bite to eat.

Grenada is known as the Spice Island (not to be confused with the Spice Islands of New Guinea) because its economy is predominantly agricultural with the principal exports being nutmeg, cocoa, bananas and sugar cane. Tourism is also very important to the island and that drove the construction of their airport on the most obstruction free area of an otherwise hilly landscape. On the ramp I saw an Ameriflight metroliner and I must say they seem to be everywhere down here: Amost every island I've visited in the Carribean had an Ameriflight plane of some sort or another.

On departure, I asked ground if we could "fly the circuit" once (perform a touch and go) and then depart for V.C. Bird. He said he had our request and approved us to backtrack on the runway. We did our run-up in position (I'm still not comfortable with this practice) then said we were ready to depart. He cleared us for takeoff and cleared us for a touch and go. Wow! Familiar phraseology!

On the crosswind turn, I chopped the left throttle to simulate an engine failure and the airplane's owner brought us around for a simulated single-engine landing. We still didn't have our clearance to V.C. Bird, so we knew we'd have to copy it while airborne. The controller had not given us any departure instructions, so we turned crosswind and headed south-ish. Sure enough, we were
"cleared to V.C. Bird via Amber 324 FOF Amber 312 ANU direct, climb to level 090, maintain VFR until reaching level 040, report passing level 040 and joining the airway."

During the climb-out, we discussed a low instrument pressure reading we had noticed. This plane uses positive pressure instead of vacuum pressure to power the gyroscopic attitude indicator and HSI. The pressure was reading low and in the yellow. There are two engine-driven pressure pumps - one on the right engine and the other on the left. The pump failure indicator for each pump was not showing, so we weren't sure what was going on. The good news was that the HSI and attitude indicator were behaving normally, so we decided to continue and troubleshoot on the ground at V.C. Bird. We also discussed the dangers of getting distracted by a minor issue while airborne. If it ain't broke, don't mess with it.

Slow ground speed on the way down ended up making that leg over three hours long. Now it seemed we might be able to log another 3 hours or and satisfy the insurance requirements, but with the wind now on our tail we'd need to slow down. So back came the throttle to 18 inches of manifold pressure. We were still going 156 knots across the ground, so we reduced power to 16 inches and slowed us to 145 knots. Looking at our projected arrival time, we worried that might still be too fast.

Handed off to Martinque Approach, we were offered direct ANU. We asked to stay on our current routing "for training purposes" and the controller approved. They asked us to climb to level 100 and that's when we entered intermittent rain and began to see some darker clouds ahead covered by a high level cloud shield. The next controller was Raizet Approach and I remembered that the forecast for Guadelope and V.C. Bird had called for thundershowers during a vague, 12 hour period. As we got closer to Guadeloupe, we began to make out the outlines of a large build-up over the island and asked to divert 20 degrees to the left. After deviating about 10 miles, we thought we might be able to proceed direct to a fix on the FIR (Flight Information Region) boundary. When we rounded the first build-up, another cell came into view and it looked like there might be cells forming over Antigua, too.

Through the worst of it, we asked to descend and were transferred to V.C. Bird approach. They gave us a descent to 2500 feet and told us to join the 12 mile DME arc for runway 07 and report established. It looked dark and ominous to the west, but the 12 mile arc was mostly clear with light rain. Established, we were cleared to land with two other aircraft behind us. One of them didn't want to do the 12 mile arc because of the weather, but the conditions weren't that bad.

The plan was to do a no-flaps landing, land long, and make the right turn off toward the end of the runway. On final, I saw an aircraft only 2 miles away on a right base - the one that didn't want to fly the arc. This was going to be close. I asked the tower for a long landing with a right turn onto the "disused runway." They approved and we touched down about 1/3 of the way down the runway and hustled to make the turnoff. We cleared just as the other aircraft was approaching the threshold.

After we were parked, we noted that we had logged just the right amount of insurance mandated flight hours. We shutdown the left engine while watching the instrument pressure. As the left engine stopped, the pressure dropped to zero and both of the left and right pump failure indicators were displayed. It was clear the right engine's instrument pressure pump was probably dead. The check valve between the two pumps might also be suspect or the left pump might just be weak. Happily, there's an excellent mechanic on the field.

We'd seen weather delays, mechanical problems, and bad weather. We'd learned a lot about ICAO flight plans, local radio phraseology and procedures, and the gendec paperwork. I traveled to 8 different island nations in just over a week. Most importantly, the owner is now current and proficient and should get plenty of utility out of his airplane.

Before bidding the Duchess goodbye, I walked around and wiped down the engine cowlings with some wax and paper towels. I'd logged a lot of hours in this plane and have seen her through some difficult times. It's strange how you can get attached to an aircraft and though this trip turned out to be a lot longer that planned, I have to admit I'll miss her. After checking out with the ground handlers, I turned around and gave one long, last look at the Duchess of Antigua.

Barbados TSRA

The abbreviation for thundershowers in aviation weather reports and forecasts is TSRA, which stands for "ThunderStorms and RAin." As boring as that little bit of trivia may be, real life thunderstorms certainly get your attention when you are airborne or planning to become airborne. TSRA figured into today's return flight Grantley Adams International Airport in Barbados.

The replacement starter for the right engine arrived a day earlier than FedEx said it would. This was made possible by knowing someone who knew someone who worked for FedEx. Having someone who had an intimate knowledge of how packages clear customs didn't hurt either. So Roy, our local FAA-certificated mechanic, had the new part installed, tested, and signed off by 11am. Roy has over 30 years of experience working on all sorts of aircraft. After finishing the installation, Roy did a thorough walk-around inspection of the aircraft. I'd say he falls into the category of "excellent mechanic."

The flight to Barbados was mostly uneventful, with just a bit of cloud dodging here and there. The last 100 miles or so of this route put us just over 50 miles from the nearest island, but we were on top of the clouds much of the time and that seems to reduce one's awareness of these matters. A partial panel (attitude indicator and HSI covered) ILS to runway 9 was performed by the aircraft owner under the hood since we were in mostly visual conditions. After landing, ground instructed us to taxi to a gate area, but we were not at the main terminal per se and there was no jetway waiting for us.



This airport is much more GA friendly and organized that Trinidad. Everything went very smoothly once we were on the ground because we had arranged a handling service for the price of $170. I called them 20 miles out and the service was waiting for us. They arranged fuel, took our gendec paperwork, processed it, filed our flight plan and got us access to the main terminal so we could have a snack.

I had an uneasy feeling about the towering cumulus clouds that appeared to be closing in on the airport from the east. When we got back to the airplane and prepared to depart, the sunshine was gone, the wind had picked up, and a steady rain had begun falling. The Barbados Terminal Area Forecast called for a 40% probability of TSRA within a 18 hour period, but there was nothing more specific. We received taxi instructions and our clearance, then made our way to the runway. We were told to hold short at the second entrance to the runway from the end. We did our run-up there and I noticed an American Airlines jet was sitting on the runway in position, behind where we would enter the runway. I still didn't like the idea of departing with so little weather information.

After the run-up, we called for departure and were told to standby. The tower asked American if there were ready to go. They said not yet, they were reviewing their weather radar returns. The tower then cleared us for takeoff and I said we'd like to wait and we'd also like to know what American was seeing on their radar. The American crew told us there were three different cells: One to the east, one northeast, and one to the south. They were trying to work out a strategy for picking their way through the mess. I thanked them and looking to the south and west, thought I saw a way out for us.

I told the tower we were ready and we did a sort of right downwind departure fairly close to the runawy. We went through some clouds and then came out in a cloud canyon of sorts. It was a clear shot to the west, so that's what we asked for. The controller kept offering us a turn right on course, but there was a large build-up to our right. I said we'd have to proceed west for another 10 miles before we could turn. In general, most of the tropical thunderstorms I've seen on this trip have been isolated and easy to spot and avoid if you are in visual conditions. Get in the clouds with no radar and no XM weather and you're really rolling the dice.

We picked our way to the west, remaining in the clear and gradually turning northwest as we passed the larger build-ups. We heard the American flight depart and they asked for several deviations as they made their way to the east before turning northwest. Eventually we got a climb to level 080 and soon we were able to join Amber 628, our assigned airway. It was just a 25 mile deviation or so. As I heard the American flight get a frequency change, I wished there had been another opportunity to thank them again for their assistance. Now to the northwest about 50 miles, we had perspective on what we had avoided (though the wide angle lens on my camera doesn't really convey the scale very well).







The flight back was over mostly scatter clouds and the 12 DME ARC RWY 07 approach (again partial panel) into V.C. Bird went pretty well. I probably have just one more flight tomorrow, then my pilot duties on this trip will complete, we'll be on an American Airlines flight to San Juan, and this trip will become one unforgettable memory.

Grounded!

This morning we confirm that the starter bendix on the right engine is toast. I helped a local mechanic remove the right engine cowling to inspect the starter and then remove it. He tried in vain to locate a replacement starter bendix at one of the two sources on the island, but no dice. The right engine is counter-rotating, so quickly locating a replacement bendix is unlikely.



The aircraft owner called the previous maintenance shop in California and it turns out they had ordered two starters for the right engine quite a while back by mistake. They still had one sitting on the shelf. The odds of that are too mind-boggling to calculate. They agreed to ship it overnight priority.

Overnight doesn't mean the same thing here as it does elsewhere. For one, the package will have to clear customs which means the starter probably won't arrive until Thursday, possibly as late as Friday morning, maybe not until Monday. I am scheduled to head back on an airline flight in a few days. I'd like to stay longer, but we've been on the road for three weeks now. It's been a wonderful trip and a great adventure, but there are things we have to attend to at home, bills to pay, and I need a haircut!

Since the plane is grounded, we locate an Elite simulator at a local flight school and arrange to rent it. I am very familiar with the Elite software, so I figure this should be a piece of cake. We'll do some holds and a partial panel approach or two. This should make good use of the time, but the simulator turns out to be flaky - the flight controls and the avionics stack periodically seem to loose power and that wreaks havoc with the Elite software. We muddle through a few procedures before calling it quits.

Since the Duchess has a Garmin 530/430 setup, we switch to using the Garmin 530 PC simulator to talk about missed approach procedures, ad hoc holds, and various other Garmin gotchas. After half a day, we've completed about all we can do without the actual aircraft. Hopefully the plane will be back in shape for a flight on Thursday afternoon, maybe two flights on Friday, and perhaps one more on Saturday.

For now, we wait.

Taxi to Parking

Today's flight was a roundtrip to Trinidad and it was a long one. Our goal was to log more flight time with less time pushing paper around though Immigration, Customs, ... We also needed to log an RNAV approach and Piarco International Airport seemed to fit the bill.



The trip down was a lesson in dodging build-ups. Most of the clouds were not too high, but they tended to be right in the middle of our route since there's often more lifting action over land and that's where the VORs are located. We were flying IFR and could have legally penetrated any of these clouds, but the airplane's owner will soon be flying non-pilot friends around and the object is to provide as smooth a ride a possible.

Most of the higher cloud tops appeared to be at 9000 to 10,000 feet and we were flying at 7000 feet. So we went through a couple of them to see what it was like. Some were benign and others contained some serious bumps. One way to predict how bumpy the ride might be inside a cloud is to look at how well-defined the edges of the cloud appear. If the cloud looks like cauliflower and the edges are distinct, look out! Another predictor of turbulence is the extent of the vertical development - the higher the cloud, the greater the lifting action and turbulence it contains.

Deviating around nasty clouds is easy. If I need to deviate less than 10 degrees or so for just a mile, I don't bother asking ATC. If I need to deviate more or for a longer distance, I tell ATC that I need to deviate left or right, the number of degrees of heading change, and provide an estimate of how many miles before I can go back on course. It's really pretty easy, but some pilots I've flown with are reluctant to ask. It's like making announcements on the common traffic advisory frequency at a non-towered airport: Pilots who are filled with bravado suddenly become shy.

For about 100 miles or so during the southern third of our trip it appeared there was no radar contact from ATC. We were asked to make several position reports along the way and the reply light on our transponder seldom flashed until a few minutes before were handed off to Piarco Approach.



The skies were hazy on the approach into Piarco and we had to penetrate some clouds before turning final. The airplane's owner stayed under the hood because the visibility on final was pretty good. He flew a good RNAV approach and did a nice landing.



The tower told us initially to turn left, which was toward the big terminal. Then, before we had turned, he changed his mind and asked us to turn right, toward the GA side of the airport. That was the way we were expecting to go. But just when I thought I'd seen everything, something new and unexpected crops up. The tower controller eventually brought us back to the runway and had us cross to the side where the main terminal is located. "Taxi via alpha, alpha one, hold short at Oscar, contact ramp services on ..." Well this was going to be interesting.

Ramp services told us to taxi to Gate 6, so we did. We stopped well short of the jetway so we could do a 180 degree turn and taxi out on our own power when it was time to leave. There was no one to marshal us in, but shortly after engine shut down, a gentleman appeared to assist us. We hadn't arranged a "handler" which is something you need to do at all major airports in the Caribbean since they are not set up to handle paperwork for smaller aircraft.



Heraman agreed to act as our handler, but warned us there would be a $250US fee. We had read about this and the aircraft's owner was prepared. We had also read that Trinidad requires 5 copies of inbound gendec paperwork, but it turned out they wanted 7 copies. For outbound gendec paperwork, they want a staggering 9 copies. But before we could deal with that, we had to visit the health office.

There was a lot of loud talking in the health office, much of it directed at us. They asked me if I had sprayed the aircraft and confused, I said no. The Boss there looked very frustrated and asked me again "Did you spray the aircraft before landing?" I assured The Boss that I hadn't and that I didn't understand what he was talking about.

The Boss stomped over to a cabinet, opened it, and it was filled with a hundred or so small yellow spray cans. He took one and handed it to me. "Our laws require you to spray the inside of the aircraft before landing." Then he turned to Heraman and said "You should not have brought them inside! We are supposed to meet them at the aircraft!" While he was berating Heraman, I looked at the can. It was insecticide - permethrin. The otherwise excellent Caribbean Pilot's Guide had made no mention of this requirement and perhaps it is fairly new.

Another gentleman was dispatched by The Boss to accompany us back to the plane. We opened the baggage compartment door and he sprayed the can inside the plane. Then I had to write a few words and sign each of the five pages of our inbound gendec saying that the plane had been sprayed and that neither of us was ill. While this was going on, an American Airlines jet was pushing from Gate 5 and I just had to get a picture.



The spraying accomplished, we returned to the health office and The Boss seemed satisfied and sent us on to immigration. We stood around in the office while the officials decided what to do with us. They looked at our gendecs, asked Heraman some questions, looked us up and down, asked Heraman some more questions, looked at our passports and pilot certificates. They then turned to a gentleman I assumed to be a senior official (he was wearing a pilot's shirt with captain's bars) and asked him some questions. He looked at me with a withering gaze, but I just returned his gaze in a calm, respectful manner. After this 10 second stare-down, he said something in a language or dialect I couldn't recognize and one of the women began stamping each of our inbound gendecs.

Heraman led us next to the main terminal area where the airplane's owner paid the landing fees. Heraman had some other paperwork to run down, so he said we could get something to eat in the adjacent food court and that he'd meet us there in 20 minutes. We sauntered over to a Starbucks imitation store, got a snack and sat down to relax. I glanced out the window and there was the Duchess sitting at Gate 6. I hoped that no one needed to use Gate 6. It appeared we would be there for at least another 20 minutes. I checked the departures/arrivals screen, but was saddened to see we weren't listed as occupying Gate 6.



We eventually made it back to the south side of the field, bought 250 liters of 100 LL fuel, and prepared to depart. The left engine started without a hitch, but the right engine's starter just went "whirrrrrr!" and the prop didn't move. $%@#! It was clear the starter bendix drive was on its last legs, but I was bound and determined to not spend the night in Trinidad.

I asked the owner to shutdown the left engine and ensure the master and mags for both sides were off. I got out of the aircraft and, with extreme care, I pulled the left prop through one half of a turn and asked the owner to try the right engine start again. "Whirrrrrr!" Double $@&*! With the mags and master off, I again turned the prop one more half revolution. When the owner tried the starter again, it engaged and he was able to get the right engine started. Phew!

I climbed back in, we started the left engine, got our clearance, and soon were winging our way to V.C. Bird as the sun set. But I was concerned about the next day. Knowing the right starter was suspect and that the right engine is a counter-rotating, a replacement starter would be hard to locate. We have more training to do, but I was wary about any more flying until this issue was addressed.

Yes, maintenance happens even in paradise.