Around the Patch: Holes in your Training

A notable example is a flight I made in August 2010 from Frederick, Maryland, to Atlantic City International (ACY) in New Jersey. The mission was to take my then-teenage son to an Aerosmith concert. ACY is in Class C airspace. Back then I steered clear of Class B and Class C, but I’d been told that the Atlantic City air traffic controllers were nice, and the airport had a lot of general aviation traffic mingling with Spirit Airlines flights and the local Air National Guard. There wasn’t another convenient GA option anyway, as Bader Field had closed in 2006.

I had a taxiway diagram ready when we landed and found the FBO without difficulty. William and I spent a great night in Atlantic City. (Yes, I do remind him occasionally that his cool mom once flew him to a rock concert.)

The next day, in near-100-degree heat on the ramp, I started the airplane, called Ground, and said I was ready to go. “Do you have your clearance?” the controller asked.

“Ummm…. I’m departing VFR,” I said.

“Well,” the controller said kindly, “we’re a Class C facility so you need a clearance. Contact Clearance Delivery on one-two-seven-eight-five.” I thanked him, copied the frequency, and thought, Now what?

In the flood of need-to-know information about radio communications with towered airports, the procedure for getting a VFR clearance had simply evaporated. Or maybe it was never there in the first place—I’m not sure. At any rate, the engine was running, the Hobbs meter was ticking, the cockpit was sweltering, and I had to do something. I took a deep breath, called Clearance, and confessed, “I need a VFR departure clearance, but I don’t know what information you need.”

Fortunately, this controller was as gracious as the other had been. She asked for the N number, aircraft type, destination, and altitude. She assigned me a squawk code and a departure frequency, and told me to fly runway heading at or below 1,100 feet until released by the tower. I switched back to Ground and got permission to taxi to the takeoff runway. Soon we were on our way back to Maryland, and I had learned (or relearned) something.

Please don’t think I lay this at the feet of my primary instructor. It’s quite possible we talked about this in ground school, and I forgot. There are a bajillion different rules and regulations that a pilot is required to learn; some of them stick and others don’t. That’s why we have a flight review every two years—whether we think we need one or not.

But it’s also quite possible that my CFI and I never talked about this procedure. Our ground school sessions were kind of haphazard in the way that FAR Part 61 programs sometimes can be, focusing on chunks of the important stuff—airspace, weather, aerodynamics—while finessing over the smaller things.

When this happens to you, note it, fill the hole with the required information, and move on. Better still, dig deeper and see what other holes might have developed in the fabric of your knowledge. After this episode, I brushed up on communications requirements. I even got instrument current briefly, because an IFR ticket—used regularly—really does make you more comfortable talking and squawking in the ATC system.

A final note on locating and patching holes in your knowledge: I discussed this incident when it first happened among a group of pilots on Facebook. The reactions were mixed. Some thought I was being unfair to my CFI. One pilot said he hoped he never shares airspace with me. (I guess he’s waiting for me to give him a heads up the next time I’m in the New York area.) But most pilots were empathetic and helpful. They know, as I do, that nobody’s perfect. Pointing fingers and laying blame doesn’t help us become safer pilots. Learning and growing is a much better course of action.