A recent ATSB accident-report highlighted the dangers of landing with the wind.
In this case the pilot of a Cessna 182 attempted to land at a private airfield and touched down halfway along the runway before bouncing several times.
He initiated a go-around but hit trees at the end of the runway with tragic results. Investigators attributed the unstable approach and landing to a 15-knot tail wind, noting the strip did not have a windsock.
There was a time when I would have been hesitant to disrupt the status quo, assuming the bloke on the ground knew better than me.
Without commenting on this specific accident I count taking off and landing into the wind one of the basic commandments of flying. Yet it’s incredible how many pilots I see, even with the benefit of a windsock, defying a 10 to 15-knot tail-wind because its convenient, only for others to follow – this can be particularly dangerous at airfields with students and low-time pilots.
I recently came across this when inbound to Lethbridge after a quick local area flight.
I had taken off from Runway 10 and on returning an hour later heard a taxi call to same runway. So I joined downwind from 45 degrees, radioed my position, and was set up nicely until a glance down at the airfield showed the windsock pointing firmly to two-eight.
I radioed the taxiing aircraft to confirm the windsock direction but got no answer. Another pilot, having heard the previous calls, declared his intentions to land on one-zero.
There was a time when I would have been hesitant to disrupt the status quo, assuming the bloke on the ground knew better than me. But another look down confirmed it wasn’t just a gust. I wasn’t sure where that second aircraft was – I thought I heard him say he was at four-thousand-five-hundred, so I thought ‘stuff this’ and called that I was leaving the circuit to reset for Runway 28.
“Is it two-eight, or one-zero?” the inbound pilot asked.
“I’m going by the windsock,” I replied. “I’m going to swing around to the west of the airfield for a long downwind for two-eight.”
Still no word from the first pilot who by this time was taking off with the wind.
The Tecnam’s fuel tanks were down to about 30 percent so it took some coaxing to get its light airframe back onto terra firm even into the 10-knot breeze. This wouldn’t have been much fun if that was blowing up my tail.
After filling the wings with premium unleaded, I taxied back to the hangar. There was a fella washing an aerobatic aircraft out front who as it turned out was the other pilot in the circuit – looking at his shiny blue-and-yellow vomit comet, it suddenly made sense how he managed to drop from 4500ft and touch down before me.
He thanked me for clarifying the wind direction and praised the way I continued to communicate my position after leaving the circuit.
Now, I’m someone who thrives on confidence so it was pretty good to receive a nod to my airmanship from an experienced pilot.