Flight Following, F16s, MOAs, and surviving special VFR into Santa Monica Airport

It was a picture perfect morning when I arrived at the hanger to take "January" for a flight from Ogden-Hinkley airport to Santa Monica California. The AOPA flight planner estimated my time en route to be about 3 hours and 40 minutes. The sky was blue, the wind asleep in the valleys, and the only activity at the airport was Mike and Gail who had come back from a night at the Marriott to continue flying their new LSA Carbon Cub over the Rockies toward Cheyenne and then eventually on to St. Louis which was their home base. I quickly rode my bike over to say hello again after seeing them the night before and taking their picture. I had forgotten to get their names so I quickly got a picture taken in front of their plane and bid them Godspeed and safety.

"January" was topped off to the lip and ready to fly so I packed in my luggage, double checked my charts, and opened my flight plan. At 0900 hours we lifted off from runway 16 and began our journey to Southern California.

I learned to fly in Southern California, Camarillo KCMA being my home base, where the weather almost always smooth, although we had some pretty mean cross winds on days, and your flying days are jam-packed with talking to ground, the tower, flight following, and always keeping your head on a swivel. If flying in SoCal were a genre of movie it would definitely be an action movie--never a dull moment. Returning back to Class Delta, Class Charley and Class Bravo airspace was not intimidating to me at all because of the many hours I spent in training with my drill-sergeant-blonde-firecracker-instructor named Brooke that never let me relax and taught me how to truly multi-task. I was really looking forward to flying back "Home" and reconnecting with my "childhood" airspace.

If you remember anything about this posting, remember this one thing: having the good men and women who manage flight following keep track of your little airplane as you navigate in 3d space and can save your life--but only if you let them. They are there to help you--no question is too stupid to ask and no, you are not expected to know everything about every MOA and airspace issue along your route. Sure the FAA says you must be aware and educate yourself fully, it's simply impossible to know everything. Flight following personnel are like professional coaches, poised and ready to tweak your game and make you perform at a much higher level then you'd ever perform on your own.

Flight Following Rescue #1:
Not 30 minutes into the flight, I was told I needed to avoid an MOA around the Tooele area where some serious maneuvers were being worked on by our good brothers and sisters in the Air Force. I was politely asked my intended route and then told there were some serious operations going on along my path. I hesitated, thought about being proud and not asking for advice, then shook off the thought and asked if I'd be safer taking a more due south heading.  I was told that a nice 180 heading would keep me much safer. I complied and survived.

Flight Following Rescue #2:
45 Minutes into the journey flight following advised me of a VFR aircraft at my 10 o'clock less than 200 feet below my altitude. I looked, turned, looked more, no joy. I called no contact and was given another position report. Still, no aircraft was in sight. Obviously my fellow aviator who was headed directly at me was not in contact with flight following. Flight following instructed me to immediately climb at best angle and I responded with a quick pull of the stick into my stomach. Five seconds into the climb and I caught site of a twin Cessna at my 9 o'clock climbing right into my under belly. I called joy, continued my climb and watched the twin pass under me no more than hundred feet below. I complied and survived.

Flight Following Rescue #3:
Flying in Western Utah without a GPS with full MOA charting is a recipe for suddenly finding the "Ninja Strikeforce" flight of 4 suddenly at your 12, 3, 6 and 9 positions ready to dispose of you and give you a reason to need a restroom break. Fortunately, while listening to flight following giving position reports to "Ninja Strikeforce" I was able to stay clear of the very active MOA.  Secretly, as I'm sure any pilot would confess, I wanted desperately to see those fighter jets tearing up the skies and the ground from my vantage point of 10,500 feet. For a moment, a brief moment, I thought my dreams were about to come true as flight following called 4811E and informed me that "Ninja Strikeforce" was headed my way off my 3 o'clock and closing fast climbing through my altitude. I quickly flipped on the video camera mounted to the canopy and turned it toward my right wing. I returned the call, reported I was looking for the traffic. For several seconds I prayed those bad boys would come screaming by on their way to the heavens. But a moment later, flight following called me and reported that "Ninja Strikeforce" had me in sight and that I was "no factor." Which being interpreted is, they saw me and were now far beyond my range. Oh, well--at least I know they saw me and that I was "no factor." I'll have to think about what that means to my psychological self esteem. I should be happy that I was not "a factor."

Flight Following Rescue #4:
After three hours of flight I was thirty to forty minutes from Santa Monica and I had learned a lot about a lot of things. Is it bad to use the words "a lot" a lot of times in a blog or is there a limit to the "a lot" usage? A lot of you are saying "I really don't care!" So now that I had reached my childhood piloting playground I was confident that the remainder of the flight would go off without a hitch. Any time a pilot uses the word "confident" be very very afraid. I decided to call into the Santa Monica ATIS to check the weather and to my chagrin the marine layer was moving inland and they were reporting a special VFR condition with a 600 foot ceiling which was plenty of head room for landing at Santa Monica but most likely deteriorating rather than getting any better. I was worried. Because the marine layer will sometimes move in so quickly you suddenly find yourself trapped in the soup. I hadn't decided up to this point where I would divert if Santa Monica was not available for a landing. I knew Van Nuys would be safe from the marine layer so mentally I prepared for that option. As I reached the LA basin I could see the dispersed cloud layer below and knew things were going to be sketchy going in. Flight following had me descend and asked to make sure I was in VFR conditions. The closer I got to Santa Monica the worse the visibility got. I switched over to the tower and two miles out they reported that ceiling had dropped below 300 feet and things did not look good. The asked if I was instrument rated and I replied in the negative. I asked if they recommended I do a left 180 and return the way I came in. After a few seconds, now less than a mile and half from the runway, which I could not see, they answered in the affirmative. I did an immediate 180 and was now at less than 500 feet AGL. I climbed to just beneath the ceiling which was not much higher and was told to contact Los Angeles Approach immediately. I returned to LAC and called in, telling the kind woman my situation. For the next ten minutes, she became by best friend. She asked me about conditions, my fuel on board, was I comfortable flying vectors, my intended airport once I made it out of the soup which lurked above me. She asked if I could see any blue sky above and if I could get on top of the layer. Just over the Hollywood sign I saw a nice little patch of blue and let her know I was going to be shooting through. As I pulled January's nose upward, we soon found ourselves in very mixed conditions. One moment there was blue sky, the next there was soup. On again, off again--thank goodness the new EFIS we had installed in January a month ago was bright and true. When we finally broke through and was completely clear of clouds my new best friend asked how things were going and I reported we were clear and on top. Unknown to me, while I was flying January, she was finding a suitable airport for me to land at that point she told me she was going provide vectors to El Monte airport and asked if I was familiar with El Monte. I told her negative, although later I realized I had flown into El Monte to meet someone I was considering doing a partnership on. My best friend then gave me vectors toward the airport. I complied, entered El Monte as direct on my GPS and continued flying eastbound and down. There was cloud cover almost the entire way and even a quarter mile out I could not see the airport below. "I'm staying with you all the way in" my female friend told me. I kept looking, knowing I was close. "Look over your left wing, you should be able to see the airport" she told me. And sure enough, as soon as I looked, there she was--runway 19 painted all nice and pretty on the threshold. And that was it, she told me to contact the tower and that they were expecting me and already cleared for landing. I thanked her, but not as much as I'd like to have, I still had a plane to land and so I said "good day and thank you" and then she was gone. I switched to the tower frequency, made a long downwind for setup on the approach and to knock off airspeed and then greased the landing. 4.1 hours of flight that day. I complied and survived.

Thank you to all the good women and men who watch over the airspace of this great land we call America and thank you for keeping us safe. God Bless America!