I don't know where you're located, but in my opinion, for flight within the very congested Los Angles basin, with its complex airspace, an IFR rating is almost mandatory. Its become increasingly hazardous over the years. And,
if you intend to operate into busy Class B airports, knowledge of published arrival and departure procedures is tacitly expected by ATC.

I received my Private Arimans Certificate in October 1970, and a Commercial Certificate two years later. At that time FARs did not require an
Instrument Rating. But, as time went by and operating in that challenging environment became more complex, I opted for instrument training in the
'90s. I seldom filed IFR, but the training was a lot of fun, and the
greater professionalism it provided made me much more skilled, confident,
and better able to operate within the National Airspace System.

In preparation, I started by attending a public adult-education ground
school class to brush up, and was fortunate to find a very knowledgeable, professional, and personable CFII.

Flying in IMC is a great exercise for the mind.

I wrote in 1998:

"For me, IFR flight is a lot like playing a game of Chess in the
blind while juggling three balls in the air and maintaining a
running conversation at a noisy cocktail party. You have to
mentally visualize the position of the "pieces" on the "board,"
continually monitor and interpret a myriad of arcane instruments
and make corrections to keep the airplane shinny side up, all
while constantly attempting to pick out the ATC communiquΘs
intended for you from the rest of the "guests'" conversations. To
this add the _stress_ of the consequences of losing the game
(death). (Of course, this analogy fails to consider weather,
turbulence, flight planning, interpreting charts and plates,
tuning radios and OBS settings, equipment failures, ....)

Single-pilot IFR aircraft operation in the ATC system in IMC
without the benefit of Global Positioning Satellite receiver,
auto-pilot, and Active Noise Reduction headset, is probably one of
the most demanding things you will ever do."


I still vividly recall an IFR flight during my training in during a heavy downpour and gusty rain storm. My instructor, Dan Newman, and I were always hoping for some "actual" conditions, so that I'd have a better idea of what
to expect once I was on my own. One particularly wet day, we were in the
flight office trying to decide if the weather may be a bit too much for our scheduled lesson. Just then, in a gust of wind an instructor and his
student, burst into the office all ebullient and spirited. They had just landed, and said that it had been a pretty rough ride, and traffic was
thick, but they thought we should launch.

So we pre-flighted and filed from KSNA (John Wayne, Santa Ana, California)
to KVNY (Van Nuys). We departed in heavy rain, and soon entered KLAX (Los Angeles) busy Class Bravo terminal area. Turbulence was significant, and visibility was nonexistent, and it sounded like the sky was full of
airliners.

Attempting to contact the controller in the next sector, who sounded a bit overwhelmed with his workload, was a real chore, as we couldn't get a word
in edgewise, and he was giving the airline traffic priority. About that
time, we must have entered a cell or something, as I was only able to hold heading within about plus or minus 30 degrees, and altitude was all over the place too. I felt like a cowboy at his first rodeo, but hung in there
without the necessity of the instructor taking the controls. Finally, we proceeded via radar vectors to the KVNY runway 34L approach, and broke out
of the overcast to see a soggy runway on the nose. A gusty cross wind nearly blew me off the edge of the runway into the grass as I was about to touch
down, but I was able to recover successfully, and plant it firmly on the asphalt. Whew! What a memorable ride. :-)

You're going to enjoy your IFR training. Go for it!

Larry

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)

Larry Dighera <LDighera@att.net> writes:

I don't know where you're located, but in my opinion, for flight within the very congested Los Angles basin, with its complex airspace, an IFR rating is almost mandatory. Its become increasingly hazardous over the years. And,
if you intend to operate into busy Class B airports, knowledge of published arrival and departure procedures is tacitly expected by ATC.

I live in Sacramento. I've only flown past the LA region once, basically skirting East along an airway enroute to Tuscon. I think it was
V165 after Bakersfield. Over the years I've had every intention to go
into the LA basin a few times by way of the low VFR flyways. The Los
Angeles Fly Chart is a great document for planning such trips. The stars haven't aligned yet for a trip down there and have felt the IFR rating
would be best obtained first before doing it. Great advice.

The region around Palm Springs and the San Bernardino mountains had the
worst turbulence I've ever experienced. Really tossed me around.

I received my Private Arimans Certificate in October 1970, and a Commercial Certificate two years later. At that time FARs did not require an
Instrument Rating. But, as time went by and operating in that challenging environment became more complex, I opted for instrument training in the
'90s. I seldom filed IFR, but the training was a lot of fun, and the
greater professionalism it provided made me much more skilled, confident,
and better able to operate within the National Airspace System.

I dreamed of being an airman as far back as I remember. For the first
ten years of my life, we lived in a suburb close to Sacramento
Executive Airport and I could lay on the grass and watch the cessna
trainers do a turn to base almost directly above our house. Dismissed
the notion early on as a pipe dream. I never had good grades in school
and my vision wasn't great. These were 'qualities' I thought mattered.

Many years later I caught a video on youtube suggestions titled 'landing
at ksac for lunch and fuel enroute to Portland.' KSAC was Executive
airport and I knew that code from years of simming. He was flying a
Bellanca Super Viking and then advertised his website at the end. Within
a week I was at a flight school doing my discovery flight.

And it turns out, a week before my checkride, a BSV went up for sale at Executive airport complete with a hangar.

In preparation, I started by attending a public adult-education ground
school class to brush up, and was fortunate to find a very knowledgeable, professional, and personable CFII.

Flying in IMC is a great exercise for the mind.

I wrote in 1998:

"For me, IFR flight is a lot like playing a game of Chess in the
blind while juggling three balls in the air and maintaining a
running conversation at a noisy cocktail party. You have to
mentally visualize the position of the "pieces" on the "board,"
continually monitor and interpret a myriad of arcane instruments
and make corrections to keep the airplane shinny side up, all
while constantly attempting to pick out the ATC communiqués
intended for you from the rest of the "guests'" conversations. To
this add the _stress_ of the consequences of losing the game
(death). (Of course, this analogy fails to consider weather,
turbulence, flight planning, interpreting charts and plates,
tuning radios and OBS settings, equipment failures, ....)

Single-pilot IFR aircraft operation in the ATC system in IMC
without the benefit of Global Positioning Satellite receiver,
auto-pilot, and Active Noise Reduction headset, is probably one of
the most demanding things you will ever do."

I still vividly recall an IFR flight during my training in during a heavy downpour and gusty rain storm. My instructor, Dan Newman, and I were always hoping for some "actual" conditions, so that I'd have a better idea of what to expect once I was on my own. One particularly wet day, we were in the flight office trying to decide if the weather may be a bit too much for our scheduled lesson. Just then, in a gust of wind an instructor and his
student, burst into the office all ebullient and spirited. They had just landed, and said that it had been a pretty rough ride, and traffic was
thick, but they thought we should launch.

So we pre-flighted and filed from KSNA (John Wayne, Santa Ana, California)
to KVNY (Van Nuys). We departed in heavy rain, and soon entered KLAX (Los Angeles) busy Class Bravo terminal area. Turbulence was significant, and visibility was nonexistent, and it sounded like the sky was full of airliners.

Attempting to contact the controller in the next sector, who sounded a bit overwhelmed with his workload, was a real chore, as we couldn't get a word
in edgewise, and he was giving the airline traffic priority. About that
time, we must have entered a cell or something, as I was only able to hold heading within about plus or minus 30 degrees, and altitude was all over the place too. I felt like a cowboy at his first rodeo, but hung in there
without the necessity of the instructor taking the controls. Finally, we proceeded via radar vectors to the KVNY runway 34L approach, and broke out
of the overcast to see a soggy runway on the nose. A gusty cross wind nearly blew me off the edge of the runway into the grass as I was about to touch down, but I was able to recover successfully, and plant it firmly on the asphalt. Whew! What a memorable ride. :-)

You're going to enjoy your IFR training. Go for it!

I had four hours of hood time duing Summer of 2022 - a false start in my instrument training. This didn't make me proficiet in IMC flying at all,
but it did save my life - as one would expect.

In September 2022, AOPA had the west coast flyin in Spokane, WA and I
made the decision to make the trip. Called my cousin, also an airman, to
invite him. He eagerly agreed. I tantalized him with a side trip to the
San Juan islands. He wants to buy a house on Decatur Island for his
retirement.

The flight was beautiful and uneventful. Chose an airway that took us up
the Sacramento valley, west of Mount Shasta, direct to Portland. I chose
to land at Hillsboro, suburb of Portland, to stretch our legs, eat lunch,
and top off the tanks. The FBO had a crew car available, so off we
went. As an aside, we learned that Oregonians take their burgers
seriously. We were driven around Decatur for three properties before I pressured everyone to return to the airport for our last leg. I really
didn't want to fly to Spokane in the dark and we only had a few hours of daylight left. It's about an hour flight from where we were.

That last leg was a prelude to our return flight. Within fifteen
minutes, we were over a mountain range and it was getting smokey. A fire
had started that day and it was getting pretty bad. I had flight
following planned at 9500, and called the controllers that I was going
up to 11500 and reported the smoke level tops at 11000. It was a bit
nerve wracking with fears that it would be IMC in Spokane and I wouldn't
be able to make it in. But, those fears were eliminated that, within
five minutes, the smoke was cleared and the remainder of the flight was perfect.

The weekend got progressively more smokey. The flyin was immense
fun. About eight-hundred planes were flown in from all around. We had
fireside chats with Leidos employees who do weather briefings. My return
flight was more direct. Straight to Bend, OR for lunch and fuel. Direct
to Sacramento east of Mt Shasta.

I called for a briefing and, with my route and altitute, I got an
all-clear. I was over the smoke and my pitstop was VFR. So we took
off. My original plan was Bend, but the field was closed for runway
painting. Soo we chose Redmond instead. In the ninety minutes enroute,
it got progressively more smokey. My descent into Redmond was marginal,
but I had good visibility of the field on the way in. We landed.

My thought was, fill up and head home NOW. My cousin had other
plans. I'm talking too the fuel dude and my cousin runs into the FBO for
crew car keys. I said "if we're staying for lunch, then we're going to Blockbuster video."

We went back to the airport to return the crew car and the conditions
had only gotten worse. So yeah, we stayed the night. A weather briefing
was all I needed. They suggested no departure.

So we grabbed Motel 6 outside the airport and found more fantastic
burgers to chow down on.

The next day was no better. We checked out at the hotel, found brunch,
and headed to the FBO. We were sitting in there for four or more hours
hoping for winds to kick up and push the smoke out of the way. It was
the next day where I decided to try departing. It was marginal VFR and,
well, I could see the moutnains ten miles out and the skyk was
blue-ish. So I climbed out, hoping to get above the cloud layer. It got
thicker and thicker. I could see the broken clouds above, starting at
about 12000. Then I realized, shortly after passing 11k I was in
IMC. And the air got suddenly damper and colder. Shit, I was mixed in
witih the lower part of the broken cloud system and smoke.

My training kept us alive as I was hoping a minute or two of this would
break out of the smoke.

It wasn't good. If I looked out the window for two seconds, I would be
off course and climbing or descending. Spatial disorientation is a real
thing. The constant feeling that I'm turning right is strongly compelling.

I told the controllers I was returning.

Made my 180 and initiated descent.

My cousin was pressuring me to push forward. Listen, man. I'm not
instrument rated and this is too dangerous - to say nothing about
illegal. And there were fires all through the Cascade mountains.

All that came to mind was my primary training. The IMSAFE checklist. E = External Pressure. THe passenger pressuring the PIC to push forward
against his judgement. This checklist and my minimal instrument training
saved the life of both of us.

The fact is, I ended up in IMC and struggled to sustain it. I was back into marginal VFR within a minute or two of descent and the return to the
airfield was unremarkable.

As I touched down, the tower asked me what it was like out there. I
could sense that they were laughing in the background. I told him 'it's
stupid out there.'

We took Uber to the nearest Amtrak station and took the train
home. We made the return flight home a few weeks later, when the fires
were out and the smoke cleared.

Larry

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)

On Sat, 17 Aug 2024 12:20:24 +0100, Daniel <me@sc1f1dan.com> wrote:

Larry Dighera <LDighera@att.net> writes:

I don't know where you're located, but in my opinion, for flight within the >> very congested Los Angles basin, with its complex airspace, an IFR rating is >> almost mandatory. Its become increasingly hazardous over the years. And, >> if you intend to operate into busy Class B airports, knowledge of published >> arrival and departure procedures is tacitly expected by ATC.

I live in Sacramento. I've only flown past the LA region once, basically >skirting East along an airway enroute to Tuscon. I think it was
V165 after Bakersfield. Over the years I've had every intention to go
into the LA basin a few times by way of the low VFR flyways. The Los
Angeles Fly Chart is a great document for planning such trips. The stars >haven't aligned yet for a trip down there and have felt the IFR rating
would be best obtained first before doing it. Great advice.

The region around Palm Springs and the San Bernardino mountains had the
worst turbulence I've ever experienced. Really tossed me around.

The Banning Pass is notorious for high winds.

I received my Private Arimans Certificate in October 1970, and a Commercial >> Certificate two years later. At that time FARs did not require an
Instrument Rating. But, as time went by and operating in that challenging >> environment became more complex, I opted for instrument training in the
'90s. I seldom filed IFR, but the training was a lot of fun, and the
greater professionalism it provided made me much more skilled, confident,
and better able to operate within the National Airspace System.

I dreamed of being an airman as far back as I remember. For the first
ten years of my life, we lived in a suburb close to Sacramento
Executive Airport and I could lay on the grass and watch the cessna
trainers do a turn to base almost directly above our house. Dismissed
the notion early on as a pipe dream. I never had good grades in school
and my vision wasn't great. These were 'qualities' I thought mattered.

I grew up under the LAX approach, and recall watching light aircraft, and
even the Northrop P-61 Black Widow, operating at Hawthorn (HHR) through the WWII tripod-mounted military spotting binoculars as a child.

Many years later I caught a video on youtube suggestions titled 'landing
at ksac for lunch and fuel enroute to Portland.' KSAC was Executive
airport and I knew that code from years of simming. He was flying a
Bellanca Super Viking and then advertised his website at the end. Within
a week I was at a flight school doing my discovery flight.

It was my collage room mate, who had just returned from military service,
who prodded me to accompany him for an introductory flight he wanted to take
to see if he might pursue an airline career under VA assistance. The moment the Cessna C-150 left the runway, I was sold, and we both began flight training. My roommate dropped out (I'm not sure if it was due to lack of funds, or self confidence.), and I mastered navigating the third dimension
...

And it turns out, a week before my checkride, a BSV went up for sale at >Executive airport complete with a hangar.

Early on, I checked out in Ballanca, and found its 180 knot cruise speed a challenge at that stage of my training, compared to the C-150. Leave it to
the Italians to create a hot-rod. :-)

In preparation, I started by attending a public adult-education ground
school class to brush up, and was fortunate to find a very knowledgeable,
professional, and personable CFII.

Flying in IMC is a great exercise for the mind.

I wrote in 1998:

"For me, IFR flight is a lot like playing a game of Chess in the
blind while juggling three balls in the air and maintaining a
running conversation at a noisy cocktail party. You have to
mentally visualize the position of the "pieces" on the "board,"
continually monitor and interpret a myriad of arcane instruments
and make corrections to keep the airplane shinny side up, all
while constantly attempting to pick out the ATC communiquΘs
intended for you from the rest of the "guests'" conversations. To
this add the _stress_ of the consequences of losing the game
(death). (Of course, this analogy fails to consider weather,
turbulence, flight planning, interpreting charts and plates,
tuning radios and OBS settings, equipment failures, ....)

Single-pilot IFR aircraft operation in the ATC system in IMC
without the benefit of Global Positioning Satellite receiver,
auto-pilot, and Active Noise Reduction headset, is probably one of
the most demanding things you will ever do."


I still vividly recall an IFR flight during my training in during a heavy
downpour and gusty rain storm. My instructor, Dan Newman, and I were always >> hoping for some "actual" conditions, so that I'd have a better idea of what >> to expect once I was on my own. One particularly wet day, we were in the
flight office trying to decide if the weather may be a bit too much for our >> scheduled lesson. Just then, in a gust of wind an instructor and his
student, burst into the office all ebullient and spirited. They had just
landed, and said that it had been a pretty rough ride, and traffic was
thick, but they thought we should launch.

So we pre-flighted and filed from KSNA (John Wayne, Santa Ana, California) >> to KVNY (Van Nuys). We departed in heavy rain, and soon entered KLAX (Los
Angeles) busy Class Bravo terminal area. Turbulence was significant, and
visibility was nonexistent, and it sounded like the sky was full of
airliners.

Attempting to contact the controller in the next sector, who sounded a bit >> overwhelmed with his workload, was a real chore, as we couldn't get a word >> in edgewise, and he was giving the airline traffic priority. About that
time, we must have entered a cell or something, as I was only able to hold >> heading within about plus or minus 30 degrees, and altitude was all over the >> place too. I felt like a cowboy at his first rodeo, but hung in there
without the necessity of the instructor taking the controls. Finally, we
proceeded via radar vectors to the KVNY runway 34L approach, and broke out >> of the overcast to see a soggy runway on the nose. A gusty cross wind nearly >> blew me off the edge of the runway into the grass as I was about to touch
down, but I was able to recover successfully, and plant it firmly on the
asphalt. Whew! What a memorable ride. :-)

You're going to enjoy your IFR training. Go for it!

I had four hours of hood time duing Summer of 2022 - a false start in my >instrument training. This didn't make me proficiet in IMC flying at all,
but it did save my life - as one would expect.

In September 2022, AOPA had the west coast flyin in Spokane, WA and I
made the decision to make the trip. Called my cousin, also an airman, to >invite him. He eagerly agreed. I tantalized him with a side trip to the
San Juan islands. He wants to buy a house on Decatur Island for his >retirement.

The flight was beautiful and uneventful. Chose an airway that took us up
the Sacramento valley, west of Mount Shasta, direct to Portland. I chose
to land at Hillsboro, suburb of Portland, to stretch our legs, eat lunch,
and top off the tanks. The FBO had a crew car available, so off we
went. As an aside, we learned that Oregonians take their burgers
seriously. We were driven around Decatur for three properties before I >pressured everyone to return to the airport for our last leg. I really
didn't want to fly to Spokane in the dark and we only had a few hours of >daylight left. It's about an hour flight from where we were.

That last leg was a prelude to our return flight. Within fifteen
minutes, we were over a mountain range and it was getting smokey. A fire
had started that day and it was getting pretty bad. I had flight
following planned at 9500, and called the controllers that I was going
up to 11500 and reported the smoke level tops at 11000. It was a bit
nerve wracking with fears that it would be IMC in Spokane and I wouldn't
be able to make it in. But, those fears were eliminated that, within
five minutes, the smoke was cleared and the remainder of the flight was >perfect.

The weekend got progressively more smokey. The flyin was immense
fun. About eight-hundred planes were flown in from all around. We had >fireside chats with Leidos employees who do weather briefings. My return >flight was more direct. Straight to Bend, OR for lunch and fuel. Direct
to Sacramento east of Mt Shasta.

I called for a briefing and, with my route and altitute, I got an
all-clear. I was over the smoke and my pitstop was VFR. So we took
off. My original plan was Bend, but the field was closed for runway
painting. Soo we chose Redmond instead. In the ninety minutes enroute,
it got progressively more smokey. My descent into Redmond was marginal,
but I had good visibility of the field on the way in. We landed.

My thought was, fill up and head home NOW. My cousin had other
plans. I'm talking too the fuel dude and my cousin runs into the FBO for
crew car keys. I said "if we're staying for lunch, then we're going to >Blockbuster video."

We went back to the airport to return the crew car and the conditions
had only gotten worse. So yeah, we stayed the night. A weather briefing
was all I needed. They suggested no departure.

So we grabbed Motel 6 outside the airport and found more fantastic
burgers to chow down on.

The next day was no better. We checked out at the hotel, found brunch,
and headed to the FBO. We were sitting in there for four or more hours
hoping for winds to kick up and push the smoke out of the way. It was
the next day where I decided to try departing. It was marginal VFR and,
well, I could see the moutnains ten miles out and the skyk was
blue-ish. So I climbed out, hoping to get above the cloud layer. It got >thicker and thicker. I could see the broken clouds above, starting at
about 12000. Then I realized, shortly after passing 11k I was in
IMC. And the air got suddenly damper and colder. Shit, I was mixed in
witih the lower part of the broken cloud system and smoke.

My training kept us alive as I was hoping a minute or two of this would
break out of the smoke.

It wasn't good. If I looked out the window for two seconds, I would be
off course and climbing or descending. Spatial disorientation is a real >thing. The constant feeling that I'm turning right is strongly compelling.

I told the controllers I was returning.

Made my 180 and initiated descent.

My cousin was pressuring me to push forward. Listen, man. I'm not
instrument rated and this is too dangerous - to say nothing about
illegal. And there were fires all through the Cascade mountains.

All that came to mind was my primary training. The IMSAFE checklist. E = >External Pressure. THe passenger pressuring the PIC to push forward
against his judgement. This checklist and my minimal instrument training >saved the life of both of us.

The fact is, I ended up in IMC and struggled to sustain it. I was back into >marginal VFR within a minute or two of descent and the return to the
airfield was unremarkable.

As I touched down, the tower asked me what it was like out there. I
could sense that they were laughing in the background. I told him 'it's >stupid out there.'

We took Uber to the nearest Amtrak station and took the train
home. We made the return flight home a few weeks later, when the fires
were out and the smoke cleared.

You did the right thing for yourself, your passenger, and the people on the ground. This scenario is probably one of the most emotionally difficult decisions for a PIC. Low-hour pilots don't appreciate how difficult it can
be being responsible and prudent. You obviously had acquired enough
experience to appreciate what it truly means to be PIC. Well done.

Larry

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)