CORPORATE FLIGHT OPS.
©Hal Stoen, Stoenworks, July, 2011
minor revision, April, 2012

PERSONAL STATEMENT

While I use the term "corporate flight operation" I don't mean that my company's operation was representative of all corporate flight departments. I'm sure that it was not. This is a personal account of that one experience, and how our flight department worked.

Also, at the top I would like to say that this is not meant as braggadocio. It is not my intent to make this appear as a self-serving document. I had a knock-out job for 18 years, and was damned lucky to have it. There were many, many pilots out there that were more qualified than I was for the position. I am eternally grateful that I had the chance to have had the opportunity in my life.

COMPANY BACKGROUND

The upper- Midwest company that I worked for started off using single-engine Piper Tri Pacers in the fifties. Soon they graduated to multi-engine Piper Apaches. All of this time the aircraft were flown by the President of the company. As travel needs and distances increased they needed a higher performing aircraft, and a pilot to do the driving. In the next move up they purchased a Cessna 421B Golden Eagle, a pressurized medium size (7,450 pound maximum gross) twin. The pilot that they hired was a former student of mine. When he got a chance to move up the ladder to a Lockheed Jetstar he gave me the call for his old job.

As an aside, this is one of the injustices of aviation careers. The normal ladder of employment in aviation is: student then flight instructor then charter then commuter airline or corporate then the Big Iron, the airlines. The route can vary, and you can get off of the ladder when you want to, but this is pretty much the norm. Many times on the corporate rung of the ladder the new hire is someone that is known to a member of the organization, as it was in my case. There probably were a thousand candidates out there better qualified than I was for the job, but a friend, like I had, is definitely an inside edge.

THE AIRCRAFT

After hiring on I was sent to Cessna in Wichita, Kansas for training. The 421 was, at the time, the most complex aircraft Cessna made. In fact, it was the most complex piston-powered civilian aircraft manufactured in the United States. It had comfort, speed, reliability- if the engines were handled properly (more about that later). It could climb to a ceiling of 30,000 ft and had a cruise speed of up to 258 knots. At its time of release, no other civilian twin-engined aircraft could fly further, faster, higher and carry as much load. The Golden Eagle's performance equals many turboprops, yet costs hundreds of thousands less to own and operate. It was Cessna's flagship. When the Citation jet came out, the 421 became the top of the piston-powered line, although pure turbines always have had the most class.

The 421 was introduced by Cessna in the late 60's. A few changes later and it became the "A" model. The nose was stretched and it became the "B" model. Later the tip tanks were removed and it became the "C" model.

It was a lovely aircraft to fly.

The controls were fairly heavy and made for, as they say, a very stable IFR platform. The passengers loved the roominess inside and I loved the flying characteristics.

It was an 8 passenger aircraft, including the crew. The eighth passenger had to sit on the "john", although it was fully upholstered, with a seatbelt, and was a legal chair. There were fold-up tables, the aforementioned "john", magazine racks, telephone and a bar- even a sink, although it was of the "drain only" variety.

The office was separated from the passenger cabin by a divider and was very roomy.

Engines were 375 horsepower geared turbocharged Continentalís driving 3-bladed propellers.

Pressurization was 5.2 psi, which allowed the cabin to stay below 10,000 feet until the aircraft exceeded 22,000 feet.

In what is another story in itself, the first 421B was lost in an accident while on approach to a Midwest airport. I, and my only passenger, survived without any injuries, although the aircraft was destroyed. The company took the insurance money and purchased a brand new 421B. This aircraft arrived without any avionics, just a blank panel of aluminum for an instrument panel. Cessna had a portable avionics set that they used for day-time ferry operations.

This is an illustration of a generic 421B panel, not the one that was on 57 Golf, but it gives a good overview of the general panel layout on the Cessna 421B:

The panel on N1557 Golf was one large piece of gray aluminum. I had the wonderful opportunity to set down with paper and pen and layout my dream- within reason- panel. When the custom panel installers got through with their work the aircraft had, in addition to the normal stock equipment:

-dual navigation receivers
-dual area navigation receivers
-three communications radios
-dual DME
-dual transponders
-digital encoding altimeter
-altitude alert system with audio and visual alerts
-color weather radar
-ADF
-RMI
-radar altimeter with audio and visual alerts
-digital fuel flow and quantity gauges
-dual HSIís with fully integrated auto pilot and flight control system
-angle of attack indicator, brow mounted
-Full co-pilot panel
-propeller phasing control
-Halon fire control

This, was a nicely equipped bird.
Note the "flip arrow" checklist at the top of the panel.

Picture taken with a "fish eye lens" which causes distortion.

The company had it's own private hangar that was built for us, heated and with plumbing. In addition we had a regular aircraft tug that was painted in the same paint scheme as the aircraft for moving N1557G into and out of the hangar.

I got paid way more than I deserved, and my only duty was to drive the airplane when and where they wanted to go. Trips averaged about four per month with an average length of three days. If I wasn't flying, I didn't have to do any other work.

I got a lot of stuff done around the house.

We operated all over the continental United States. In the course of my employment I landed in each of the lower 48 at least once, in four of the Canadian Provinces, but never Mexico. We primarily "worked" the East Coast and the Southeastern part of the country.

Fuel capacity was 1,492 pounds- about 250 gallons. The fuel system was quite complex- overly so in fact. There were a total of six fuel tanks. The tip tanks were the main tanks, 300 pounds of fuel in each. The internal wing tanks were the auxiliary tanks, 290 pounds of fuel in each. Lastly, there were the wing locker tanks that were situated behind the engines. These each carried about 156 pounds of fuel. Take offs and landings were performed using the main (tip) tanks. The reasoning behind this was that there were emergency back-up pumps in those tanks so that in the event of an engine-driven pump failure these electrically-driven pumps would kick in. There were switches that were placed in the "armed" position for takeoffs and landings that allowed this transfer of pumps to take place automatically in an emergency situation.

After the main (tip) tanks were drawn down to half-full, the engines would be switched to draw fuel off of the auxiliary (wing) tanks. Because of the fuel system design, the fuel pumps delivered more fuel to the regulators than was necessary. This excess fuel was returned to the main (tip) tanks, not, as you would think, the auxiliary (wing) tanks. By the time the wing tanks were completely drawn down, the main (tip) tanks would be full again from this excess return. At this time, the main tanks were once again selected as a fuel source. Once the mains were once again drawn down, the fuel from the wing locker tanks could be utilized. This fuel was not directly available to the engines. It could only be transferred by electric pumps to the main tanks. By the time the fuel from the wing locker tanks was fully transferred the mains were full once again and all other tanks were now near-empty. This gave the aircraft a range of about 1,300 nautical miles. If the winds were favorable, Miami was not a problem from Minneapolis. In fact, we flew non-stop from Minneapolis to Key West, Florida. Going back in the reverse direction almost always required a fuel stop due to the winds aloft.

Unlike most turbo props, whose engine limitations restrict power settings above 15,000 feet, the 421 liked to operate above FL200 (20,000 feet). From 15,000 to FL200 was pretty much King Air country. From FL200 to FL250 the 421 pretty much owned the airspace. Those altitudes were too high for most turboprops, and too low for the pure turbines. Going East-bound the normal cruise altitude was FL230- FL250 if the winds were good. Going West-bound I would normally use FL180, sometimes FL200. With the pressurization this gave a cabin altitude of sea level up to 11,000 feet and 8,000 feet at FL230. Cruise speeds, using 63% power settings were about 220 knots (255 mph) at FL230 and about 200 knots (230 mph) at FL180. Fuel flows were on average, block to block, about 245 pounds (41 gallons) per hour.

Access to the cabin was by way of an "airstair door". This, by itself, was a piece of engineering. It was a two part affair, the top half containing a window that swung up, and a lower half containing two fold-down steps that swung down. At night a built-in light illuminated the steps.

The fuselage opening that the door pieces closed against had a perimeter seal that was inflated with pressurization air to maintain cabin air integrity. Given the size of the opening, and the 5.2 psi pressurization differential, the door had about six thousand pounds of force against it when in flight. There were pins that engaged into reinforced openings on each side. Proper care and feeding of these components was critical to safe operation of the aircraft. There was a light on the annunciator panel in the front office to warn if the door was not closed properly.

For the passengers the cabin was quite comfortable. The individual chairs were of good size, comparable to an airliner first-class seat. There was a built-in armrest along the cabin wall, with a fold-up armrest on the aisle side. The fold-out tables gave passengers an area to do their work. Next to each chair was a built-in recessed drink holder.
    

Five large windows on each side of the cabin gave the area a very airy look. Could you stand up inside? No. But, as Bill Lear once said "I've got the most expensive car that Cadillac makes, and I can't stand up in it either!"

A telephone was mounted on the cabin wall. Cabin noise was quite low, what with the props turning about 1,700 rpm at cruise. The aircraft had a full bar that was stocked with all types of liquor. There was a pull-out ice chest that contained ice for drinks. Glasses, stir sticks, etc. were contained in the bar area. In addition a larger cooler was behind the last chair and was kept full of cold beer and pop.

A built-in magazine rack contained the latest magazines and the current edition of The Wall Street Journal was always on board.

One of the strong suits of the 421 was external baggage storage. The nose compartment would hold full-length downhill skies. Standard suitcases would fit easily through the three access doors- two on the left side and one on the right. In addition there was baggage space in the wing lockers behind the engines. All of these spaces were lit for night operations. And lastly, there was limited baggage space available in the cabin, at the aft end. I took many trips with a full complement of eight people on board and seldom, if ever, hurt for space to store their baggage outside of the cabin.

The geared GTSIO Continental engines were very sensitive to pilot input. Time between overhauls (TBO) was only 1,200 hours. After that time we bought zero-timed engines and replaced the old ones. What with all the other accessories that needed changing at this time, and normal maintenance, a 1,200 hour engine change would normally cost around $50,000.

We were, for all intents and purposes, like a mini-airline. If we wanted to go to Chicago O'Hare on Tuesday and arrive at 8:00am we would. In all the years of operating in the system I only had one missed instrument approach- and at that we were able to sight the runway environment and land on the second attempt. I don't mean to imply that my flying skills were that good- it's just that seldom are you and the worst weather in the same place at the same time. In addition, if the destination airport is well below minimums (seldom) you just don't go there.

I usually had four to five days or more notice before a trip. At that time I was told the day and time we would leave, the number of passengers, a rough idea of where we might be going after our first stop and the number of days we would be gone. After that, we often became "free spirits", going where the company's business dictated.

This, to me, was the ideal life of the corporate pilot.

For flight planning I would use Jeppesen charts. I would draw a line from my departure airport to the nearest VORTAC to my destination airport. Then using a flight planning calculator I would layout the Area Navigation (RNAV) direct route. I would say that 75% of all trips were flown on an "RNAV direct" basis. In area navigation a radial from a VORTAC (VOR/DME) is picked that is crossed by the "route line". Then the distance of the where the line is from the station is measured. It's all a Rho/Theta deal. You end up with a series of navigation fixes: Direct to the FGT 090@025, RFD 270@042, JOT 180@017, etc. Direct (landing airport). Seldom was this routing ever refused by ATC. When operating in the Northeast Corridor to, say JFK, I would go "RNAV Direct" to a VORTAC about 250 miles or so out from JFK and then file the standard airways and STARs.

I would do all my flight planning, briefing and filing from home or my motel room. I would arrive at the airport at least one hour before departure time to fill the bar and cooler with ice and get hot coffee for the dispensers. All preflight inspections of the aircraft and the fueling were done before the passengers arrived. I never left the aircraft dirty unless we had to immediately leave for a surface destination by car. If I was on the road, and I had to leave the aircraft without cleaning it, I would arrive several hours before the next trip to do the job. I carried cleaning items, including a ladder to reach the windshield, and a 12-volt vacuum cleaner, in one of the wing locker storage compartments. No matter if we were departing from our home base, or from another airport, the aircraft was always clean. Passengers never boarded a dirty aircraft- inside or outside.

TYPICAL OPERATION

Once baggage was stowed, passengers boarded the aircraft- I was always the last one in so that I could close the door. Once the door was secure it was up to the office. Seldom did anyone ever ride in the right front chair, so I usually had the whole space to myself. There was a divider between this area and the main cabin with a curtain that could be used to close the center gap- it was left open except for night operations.

First up was to set the pressurization controller for field elevation and compensate for barometric pressure. If this was not done there would be a bump up or down in cabin altitude as soon as the pressurization kicked in- painful to the passengers ears. Battery Master "On" and turn on the cabin "Seat belts" and "No smoking" signs. These illuminated with the familiar "chimes" that you hear on the typical airliner.

Magnetos "On". The engine start switches were red pushbuttons surrounded by a raised guard. Engine start was left engine first because the battery was in the left wing root and the cables were shorter to that engine. Left engine start, oil pressure up and start the right one. Verify that oil pressure was coming up off of the at-rest peg.

To the left of me, between the left cabin wall and my chair is the "Switch/Circuit Breaker Panel". This panel contains the controls for starting the engine, an ammeter/voltmeter for checking the electrical system, the mag. switches, fuel primer switch, the electrical master switch, left and right alternator switches and all of the circuit breakers. In addition, all of the lighting (strobe lights, rotating beacons, landing lights, etc. are located here. At the bottom of this panel are the emergency switches (guarded with red flip-up covers) for ship's emergency electrical service.

Next was heater fire-up if it was cool. The cabin heater was fuel fired and was located in the nose of the aircraft. It took in pressurized air and returned it to the cabin. The nose baggage area that contained the heater was not pressurized. The ducting from the cabin through the forward pressure bulkhead and the heater itself were specially constructed to maintain pressurization integrity. (In addition, once in flight, you could draw air in from the inter-coolers located in the wing roots for preheated pressurized air.)

After both engines were running, the Avionics Master was turned "On". Comm. 3 was used to monitor ATIS (Automatic Terminal Information Service), Comm. 2 was set for Ground, & Comm. 1 was set to the Tower. After copying the ATIS, Ground was contacted with a note that we were "instruments to ......" Clearance to the active and usually our IFR clearance was received while enroute to the runway. The clearance is copied while taxing the aircraft- not as hard as it may sound, as you use a shorthand notation, and usually are cleared "as filed" anyway. A normal clearance read-back would be something like: "As filed, maintain 3,000, expect 230 10 minutes after departure, turn right heading 200, departure on 126.55, squawk 2435".

While taxing, the mags were checked for drops and the props were cycled for correct operation and oil circulation. I had a checklist on the brow that had up and down arrows for each item as it was performed. On departures all arrows were down until flipped up after each check list item. After all arrows were up the aircraft was ready to go. By the time we got to the active runway departure end I would normally be ready to go, and would contact the Tower. At this point Comm. 1 was the Tower, Comm. 2 was Departure and Comm. 3 remained on ATIS. Throughout the flight I alternated between Comm's. 1 & 2 so that if a frequency was copied wrong I had the previous one to go back to. Comm. 3 enroute was tuned to 121.5 to monitor for any ELT transmissions. Also the Altitude Alert System would be set to the initial altitude of 3,000 feet.

Part of the checklist was to verify that the Annunciator Panel was not showing anything out of the ordinary. This is where I would look to verify that the cabin entrance door was indeed secure.

The various annunciators are lit here because the "Press To Test" button has been pushed in. Normally the panels would be dark, illuminating only if there was something going on in the circuit that they monitored. For example, when navigating in the RNAV (aRea NAVigation mode) the green "RNAV" annunciator panel would light up. When transferring fuel from the wing locker fuel tanks the "L. TRANS." or "R.TRANS." would illuminate when the fuel transfer was completed, and so on.

DEPARTURE

"Cessna 57 Golf you're cleared for takeoff. After departure fly heading 200". Power was slowly brought up (you can over-boost turbos if you are too quick on the throttles) and the brakes were being ridden at the same time. By the time we were at the end of the runway (I always went to the end, back-taxing if necessary) and pointed down the runway, full power was on the engines but with enough braking applied so that the aircraft was barely moving. The reasoning was two-fold: One, your first big chance of engine failure is when full power is brought up, and two, runway usage. Rolling down the runway as you bring up the power is wasting real estate- this way I was at the end and was at full power already. The exception to this procedure was if there was any debris on the surface- full power would damage the props as they pulled up the objects on the ground.

Brake release and fairly rapid acceleration down the runway, transponder from "standby" to "on" and strobes turned "on". Manifold Pressures would be 39.5 inches with the props at 2,275 rpm. A last sweep of my hand across the "up/down" arrows, and then one hand on the wheel and the other on the throttle quadrant (throttles, mixtures and props) to prevent backwards creep. The 421B had a best single-engine rate of climb speed of 108 knots if you lost an engine. I would accelerate to 110 knots before breaking ground. While accelerating and under 110 knots I would keep saying to myself over and over "kill it, kill it, kill it". That was to prepare my mind for the right action in case of engine failure- minimum waste of time.

CLIMB

At 110 knots the nose was brought back and the aircraft became airborne. Positive rate of climb, press the brakes to stop tire rotation and gear up. Gear activation was done by electric motors. The entire cycle took about 10 seconds. The first part of the sequence was large doors that enclosed the main gear dropping down from the wing roots. These would extend out at a ninety degree angle to the wing. Then, the gear would retract inward into the wing wells. The large doors would then snap up to cover the gear and wheels.

In the event of an engine failure before gear retraction, you were better off to leave the gear down until you had some altitude. Those large doors opening and closing caused a considerable amount of drag and air disturbance. All this time, during takeoff and initial climb my eyes were constantly flitting over the engine gauges to verify proper readings. If conditions were conducive, the anti-ice devices would be turned on.

After climbing to at least 1,000 feet above the ground the nose was gently lowered so that the aircraft could accelerate to 120 knots and to allow the deck angle to decrease a little. This allowed better forward visibility and was more comfortable for the passengers. Power remained at full. The first power reduction was not made until the aircraft was at least 2,000 feet above the ground.

This is your second most likely chance of engine failure (after takeoff power)- the first power reduction. Manifold pressures slowly back to 32.5 inches, and then the props slowly back to 1,950 rpm. During this time you are always checking the gauges and watching for traffic outside. Turn to heading of 200. Tower calls and says "57 Golf contact Departure- good day". The Altitude Alert goes off with a gentle chime at 2,500 feet to let you know that you are coming up on the preset of 3,000 feet.

"Good morning Departure, Cessna 57 Golf with you out of 2 point 5 for 3, heading 200". "Roger 57 Golf, maintain heading, climb to and maintain one zero thousand". "Maintain heading, we're out of 3 for 10, 57 Golf." The Altitude Alert is reset to 10,000 feet and the arrow on it points "up" as a reassuring message that you are headed in the right direction. Climb power is still set, engine gauges look good, it's time to start bringing up the cabin altitude for our cruise.

The 421B had a respectable climb rate. At maximum gross weight of 7,450 pounds it was 1,850 fpm at sea level, 1,480 fpm passing through 10,000 feet, and still in excess of 1,000 fpm through 20,000 feet.

The pressurization variable rate controller was on a pedestal located below the panel and between the pilot and copilot chairs:

The balance of the controls were on the panel, to the pilot's left:

An indicator on the pressurization controller shows the desired outside (airplane) altitude and an inner indicator shows the cabin altitude. Once set, the altitude of the cabin starts climbing and the rate is adjusted by a small knob on the unit. A miniature Vertical Speed Indicator on the panel shows the cabinís rate of climb or descent. I tried to keep it between 200 and 250 fpm for passenger comfort. If a passenger had a head cold I would try to shallow out the enroute climb and bring the cabin altitude up a little more slowly.

Sometime during the climb to 10,000 Departure calls and says "57 Golf, contact Minneapolis Center on 123.65- good day!". "Good morning Minneapolis, Cessna 57 Golf with you, assigned heading of 200 (kind of a reminder to them- a gentle "bump" that you want to be getting on course), out of 7.6 for 10." "Roger, 57 Golf, radar contact." (If you forgot to turn the transponder from "standby" to "on" during departure, this is when you would hear something like "Roger 57 Golf, primary contact only- check transponder setting" - oops.) Approaching 10,000 feet you want to hit Center up for higher if possible so that you can avoid having to level off, reduce power, lean engines and all that stuff- much better to keep on going up. If no further clearance is received out of 9,000 a call like "Center, 57 Golf is out of 9 for 10 requesting higher." will usually get you a "Roger 57 Golf, climb and maintain flight level 230, proceed on course." "Thank you, we're out of 9 point 7 for 230, on course, 57 Golf". Reset the Altitude Alert to FL230 and turn as necessary towards the first way point. And, at this stage if everything is looking good, engage the autopilot.

When the autopilot is turned on a pair of "paddles" pop up on the HSI to represent the "command bars" for the integrated flight control system. A knurled knob on the A/P panel was rolled back to align the paddles pitch with the wing tips on the HSI. Once aligned, the A/P would be engaged. When first engaged the A/P would hold the pitch and wings level. At this stage we were cleared on course so Nav 1 (setup on the ground before departure) was checked, the CDI on the HSI was centered to the way point and the Nav button on the A/P was pressed. Now the A/P would track the CDI. Mixtures are leaned for climb power. Engine gauges are constantly being monitored.

Out of 10,000 feet you were pretty well clear of "Indian Country" where there were Apaches, Cherokees Seminoles etc. and you could relax your guard a little. The 421B came equipped with landing lights that swung down from the tip tanks, in addition there was a taxi light on the nose gear. Under the theory that whatever you can do to help traffic see you, I had a conversion installed that placed a landing light on each nacelle, just under the props. Any time I was below 10,000 feet all of these lights, except for the one on the (retracted) nose gear were "on". Departing 10,000 they were turned "off", entering 10,000 they were turned "on"- night or day, that was the "rule". The only time this was not the case was at night while in the clouds- the glare was distracting.

(As an aside, the FAA requires a "sterile cockpit" below 10,000 feet. No unnecessary conversations are supposed to take place with crew members. Passengers soon found out that they would not be able to get a response from me at that time. My guard was always up while flying, but especially so when operating below 10,000 feet.)

In addition to the above lighting, there was a anti-collision beacon (red rotating beacon) on the belly and another one on the top of the tail. There were strobe lights in each tip and one in the tail cone with navigation lights in the same three areas. As soon as the ship became "powered", ie the "master" switch was "on" and the engines were about to be started, the rotating beacons and the nav. lights were turned on- night or day. My thinking was that this was a way to tell ground personnel "This aircraft is about to become alive." The strobes were never turned on until rolling down the active runway, just prior to takeoff. And, the strobes were turned off right after clearing the runway after landing. Sit behind an aircraft on the ground with his strobes blinding you and you will understand why.

ENROUTE

Passing through 18,000 feet the altimeter was reset to 29.92 inches. As an aside, the altimeter on the copilot's panel was always left at 29.92- it made for a standard reference point. Approaching FL230 the Altitude Alert system would chime at 1,000 and 500 feet below as a reminder that you were coming up on your selected altitude. At 22,800 feet the "up" arrow would go out. If you varied altitude by 200 feet the arrow, up or down as necessary, would illuminate and the chime would sound. The knurled knob of the autopilot is slowly rolled to the center detent position as the aircraft reaches FL230. The plane is now level and in the "navigation" mode. Power remains at climb setting. The aircraft is allowed to accelerate until there is no appreciable increase in indicated airspeed.

Now the throttles are gently pulled back to 32 inches of manifold pressure. Everything stable. Next, the props are slowly brought back to 1,725 rpm. Thirty two inches and seventeen and a quarter rpm's was a setting that that I had settled on after many small experiments. It gave the best quiet cabin and fuel economy combination. This setting was 63% of power. The prop synchrophaser is turned "off" and the props hand-synched as best as possible- then the prop synchrophaser is turned "on"- it gets smoother and quieter as the props phase in to one another. As an aside here, a prop synchronizer will get the props turning at the same rpm. whereas a synchrophaser will get them at the same rpm and have the blades in the same phase relationship- the blades on both engines will be at 12 oíclock at the same time. It does make for a quieter cabin.

Okay, level at 230. Power is set. Bring the mixtures back to a rough cruise setting and let the temperatures settle down. After about five minutes it's time to lean the mixtures for cruise. Bringing one control back at a time, the EGT (Exhaust Gas Temperature) gauge slowly starts to rise as you remove excess fuel, which has helped to cool the engines, from the combustion process . At some point the EGT will peak and then further leaning will cause the temperature to start dropping as so much fuel as been removed that now excess air is cooling the exhaust. For the 421's engines they like EGT peak plus 75 degrees (F) of rich mixture. This, for these engines, is the best combination for fuel economy and valve life.

One last thing to do before relaxing a little. There's a way point coming up and some information has to be noted. When the trip was laid out I made an estimate for fuel used and time for each leg of the trip. On takeoff I wrote down the departure time and added the time to reach the first way point and our final destination. Now I look at my log and see that I should be there in 5 minutes- let's say 7:05. The way point is crossed at 7:07. I note how many pounds of fuel remain on board as we cross the way point and enter the expected time for arrival at the next way point. The log shows my outbound course from the way point and that is set in the HSI as the autopilot turns the aircraft to track on the new radial.

Now, I was two minutes late to my first way point. That means, as of now, I'll be two minutes late to my final destination- the times are corrected in the log. Also, I estimated that I would have, let's say, 1,257 pounds of fuel on board at the first way point. My actual reading is 1,215 pounds. I may have a problem developing here. I'm running two minutes late, and using 42 pounds more fuel than I thought I would. The first leg is the toughest to estimate because of the climb/level out time but it's my first indicator on my "how goes it?" form. At the next way point if I am late again, and use more fuel than I estimated, I have to start looking at my final destination statistics. How much fuel did I estimate having left on board at arrival? I take that amount and subtract my over-burn. Will I make it with sufficient reserves?

The whole point in this exercise is to know at the beginning of the flight how you will stand at the end of your flight. I normally knew after the first 45 minutes into a trip if we would arrive at the destination on time and with sufficient fuel on board- you don't want to wait until the end to find out things may not happen the way you want them to.

Also, tankering fuel is expensive. At six pounds per gallon it costs money in performance to tanker more fuel than is needed for the trip. The bottom line is this: I wanted to know, as early into the flight as possible, if I was going to be on-time and if there would be sufficient fuel reserves when we commenced our destination approach.

When cruising above FL180 you can relax a bit as I mentioned before. Usually someone in the main cabin has passed up a cup of coffee and passed around the Danish rolls. At 230 the view out front is great. Usually the air is clear up there and you can see forever. When flying West, the Rockies appeared long before you got to them- always made me think about those brave souls in Conestoga wagons trekking across the prairies and wondering if they would ever get to the mountains.

The front office in the 421B had large windows both in the front, and on the side- big ones that cut up into the overhead of the cabin so that you could crane you neck and look straight up if you wanted to. At night I would occasionally turn off all panel lights and gaze up at the stars- awesome.

Looking out the copilot window, altitude is around 10,000 feet in the climb. (Picture taken with a "fish eye" lens which makes the horizon appear curved.)

Pilots will tell you that they get bored looking out the windows, but I think that's for external consumption only.

The view out front beats the living hell out of the view from a cabin window any day.

Looking for traffic is a constant exercise at all altitudes, my remarks about relaxing above FL180 not withstanding. The problem is that the traffic you see is the traffic that is moving- "What's that I just saw out of the corner of my eye? Something moved ...where is it?......there it is...what?...what?....OK, it's a 737 and it's...above us...no problem."

The thing is that if the traffic is moving relative to you then you will not collide.

The guy that is going to ruin your day is the one that is on a collision course, and therefore there is no relative movement- very difficult to pick out.

But you look anyway, constantly scanning. Start at the left, or right, and slowly sweep across the horizon. Then, start all over again. By FAR's the only guys above FL180 are known to ATC and, in theory, if there is any proximity ATC will call the traffic for you..... in theory.

The amazing thing is how few airplanes you actually do see. They're out there but you only actually see a small percentage of them- wow.

While enroute at cruise things can get a little boring. You look outside, you scan the gauges, you look....you get the picture. Often I would do my Jeppesen revisions to help pass the time. The old "hours and hours of boredom punctuated by moments of......" One of the first things to do is check weather at you destination. Before I did that I would get a reading on the actual winds aloft off of the RNAV computer. I would then radio this information to the nearest FSS in the form of a PIREP- pilot report. "Oxford Radio, Cessna 57 Golf". "57 Golf, Oxford Radio, go ahead". "We're level 230 on an IFR flight from Minneapolis to Boston. Climbing out of Minneaplis, tops of the overcast at one two thousand, clear above, negative icing, negative turbulance. At 230, winds are 240 degrees at 43 knots. Smooth ride. And while I have you Sir, could we please have the latest observation from Boston Logan?" Passing on actual winds and anything you encountered on climb may be of value to other pilots.

If the weather at the destination is going south then I would start checking the weather at my alternate field. I always had an alternate field, no matter how good the weather was. If conditions were really bad I would have a "gold-plated" alternate whose weather was never in doubt.

Always, always a plan "B", and usually a plan "C".

The most important thing about weather is the trend. If my destination's weather is dropping, my feelers are out like a cat's whiskers looking for possible alternatives. I've actually heard professional pilots say "Not to worry, the forecast says that they won't go below minimums until 22Z and we'll be there at 21Z."

Another "wow".

Enroute weather was usually not a problem for passenger comfort and safety. Sometimes there would be a steady "chop" in the air that could be quite unsettling to the folks behind me. My first job was a safe operation. My second job was passenger comfort. If there was turbulence you usually knew whether to go up or down by listening to the other aircraft on the frequency and if they were going up or down to find smooth air. Icing was also not usually a problem. Most heavy ice is down below in the cumulus stuff. Usually icing would be of the smooth, glaze variety and very light. If we were in precipitation at cruise the anti-ice was always turned on.

The 421B had a mixed bag of anti-ice and de-ice devices. Anti-ice was the equipment that kept the stuff from forming in the first place. De-ice took the ice off after it had formed. For anti-ice the aircraft had heated dual pitot tubes, heated dual static air ports, heated propellers, and heated fuel vents. For de-ice there were the wing boots and a "wet windshield". Ice had to be handled carefully, and the method used depended on the conditions.

Icing in flight is something to be held in the highest of regard. Basically there are two groups, clear and rime but in the practical world there is an infinite variety, and all of them can spell trouble. Icing is not taken lightly by any operation including the airlines, whose equipment to deal with it is better than most smaller aircraft. Depending on the situation sometimes you climb to get out of it, and sometimes you descend. Worse to worse, you turn around. The one thing you don't do is nothing. Strangely enough, the worst season for getting into icing conditions in high altitude operations is in the summer, followed by spring & fall.

The worst icing I ever encountered was over Quebec Province in Canada. I was on a positioning flight and was the only one on board. The aircraft was headed West at FL200 and it was the month of June. We entered a cloud layer, and shortly after the light turbulence began- a sure sign of convective activity and usually ice. As soon as I entered the clouds the anti-ice was turned on. This heated the propellers, the pitot tubes, the fuel vents and the static air vents. After awhile I noticed ice beginning to accumulate on the wings. I asked for lower. Center approved FL180 and we descended. The rate of accumulation increased and I asked for lower. Center replied that they were working on a "hand-off (to another controller)" and to stand by. The rate of accumulation started to increase and ice started to be slung off of the props, hitting the nose section with large bangs.

The first "bang" always got your attention.

The nose area in line with the props was protected by a thick belt made of 1/2 inch thick UHMW (Ultra High Molecular Weight- a plastic-like material) for this reason. Sometimes the ice that was slung off of the props missed this shielding and hit the regular, non protected, skin of the aircraft.

57 Golf wore her dents with pride, evidence of battles fought with the forces of nature.

On aircraft equipped with wing de-ice boots there is a particular procedure that must be followed. If you don't, you might as well not have any boots at all. You have to let about 3/8 to 1/2 inch of ice build up before you cycle the boots. The boots expand laterally along the wing span with parts of the boots remaining flush with the wing and other parts expanding as air from a special pump expands them. Fold your fingers into the palm of your hand and then keeping the fingers in your palm, expand your knuckles out- this is pretty much how the boots operate. They depend on the air flowing over the wings to tear off the ice as the boots expand and break it up into the air flow.

If you cycle the boots too early, ie. not enough ice accumulation, then the ice will merely push out as the boots expand and retract back when the boots do. Now you have a problem. Unless you get lucky, the boots will expand into a cavity under the ice and have no effect on it at all and the ice will just continue to accumulate.

For this reason the boots do not cycle automatically.

The pilot must toggle a switch that starts the "boot cycle". Due to the amount of air required for this operation, there is a timer in the circuit that inflates the wing boots first, then the tail (horizontal and vertical) boots. Lastly, when the boots are dormant a small vacuum pump is in constant operation to "pull" them down to conform with the leading edge of the wing/tail surface.

The propeller boots were really heating elements, not pneumatic like the wing boots. Only the inner 1/3 of the props had these "boots" on them, as much beyond that and abrasion would soon wear them down. The wing prop boots, being heated electrically required an awful lot of power to operate. Even though the 421 had 200 amp electrical service- more than many houses- it was not enough to heat all of elements all of the time. Indeed, the "boots" themselves were divided into two parts, inside and outside. So, in all there were 12 different heating elements involved- six for each of the propellers. In order to make this whole thing work there was a timer that would sequence power to the boots:

1. Outboard halves, engine 2
2. Inboard halves, engine 2
3. Outboard halves, engine 1
4. Inboard halves, engine 1
etc.

If the timer faulted out, or if one of the elements failed, then you turned off the anti-ice to the props- better to have an even load of ice on all blades than an uneven one and the vibration that would follow- vibration that will tear an engine out of it's mounts if it is severe enough.

The sources of air for the engines were considered to be non-icing. They were large scoops on the inboard side of the engine nacelles. If they did ice up however, magnetic doors located in line with the air filters would open automatically to bring emergency air into the engines. This backup source was also considered to be non-icing. If they iced up however, there was a third source of air available from inside of the engine cowling. Because this air was from around the engines it was considered to be contaminated and was not to be introduced into the cabin. In the event the first two sources of air iced up, and you had to use the third (and final) engine air source, then special dump valves had to be activated by manually pulling out a knob for each engine. This would dump the pressurization air out of the wing root, not allowing it to enter the cabin. If only one source was dumped, pressurization could be maintained. If both had to be dumped, the pressurization dump valve on the aft pressure bulkhead would have to be activated. When this was done, the cabin would lose pressurization in less than five seconds.

I was told that this rapid decompression would make it snow inside of the cabin.

I never tried this experiment.

In my current situation up in Canada, I was still waiting for the hand-off. I called Center back and asked if there was any traffic below us and he replied that no, there was not. The problem he had was just in getting hold of the next controller on the "land lines". I told him that we may have to descend without clearance, and he came back with a "At your discretion Sir." This was good, as the airspeed was decreasing from the rapidly accumulating ice.

The old gal gave off a shudder and stalled right after his radio transmission.

We started an unscheduled descent.

Now, this sounds like a good flying story, but it really isn't. Remember that I said it was June. And, I knew that the surface temperatures were in the seventies. Pushing the nose over we came out of the stall and lost altitude rapidly. Passing through 17,000 or so we broke out into severe clear and warmer air. At 16,000 the ice was pretty well gone from the airframe, and we remained at that altitude for the rest of the trip.

I would never have delayed like this if I had passengers on board- it was kind of an exercise in curiosity.

On another trip I was landing and had a light coat of rime ice on the wings, perhaps a quarter of an inch. For some reason I just didn't activate the boots to break it off- my mistake. Just as the aircraft was flaring over the runway the tail shuddered and stalled. We pitched and settled "firmly". The lesson learned on that one was don't land with any ice, and that on a 421 the tail will stall before the wings do if there is ice on the empenage.

The windshield was classified as anti-ice or de-ice, but of a different variety. Cessna offered two options for windshields, electric and alcohol. The electric ones were the coolest, but they were very expensive and gave a yellow/brown tint to the entire windshield. They also had a tendency to delaminate in flight. The bottom line was that whatever windshield Cessna built on your aircraft was the one you were stuck with- 57 Golf came with the alcohol version. This was a little bit of a Rube Goldberg setup, but it was effective in its own way. There was a 3 gallon tank that was kept full of isopropyl alcohol out in the right nacelle, just behind the engine. In front of both windshields, and at their base, were tubes with holes drilled in them. Turning on a switch on the panel would activate a pump and alcohol would 'weep" (Cessna's term) out of the holes. This system could be used as either anti-ice, or de-ice. However it could not be used at an airspeed above 140 knots.

This was just as well, as the maximum endurance of the alcohol supply was one hour and you wanted to save it for your approach. When the system was used you had to wait 45 seconds after the alcohol was turned off to allow the alcohol to evaporate and clear the haze from the windshield. So it often became a catch 22 situation. Initial approach speed was 145 knots. If you were collecting ice it was always a good idea to use a little faster approach speed - ala the tail stalling situation I mentioned. The general rule was "Add 10 knots for the wife and kids". So now youíre doing an approach in icing, can't see too well through the stuff that is covering the windshield, going too fast for the alcohol to work, slow down a little so it will, use the alcohol, and hope that it clears up and evaporates in time so you can see the runway.

Usually when I encountered icing on an approach I just left the damn thing off and peered through the corner of the windshield.

OK, one last story on icing. A friend of mine had a Cessna 310 based out of Greensboro, N.C.. Because of the territory, and his personal limitations, his aircraft did not have de-icing boots. On a trip to Washington D.C. he picked up some ice but landed without incident. Once parked on the ramp the lineman asked him if he wanted the ice removed from his aircraft. He said "Yes" and went inside with a vision of the line crew using some type of de-icing fluid on the aircraft. He looked out from the lounge to see the lineman going along the wings beating them with a broom handle to break the ice off.

The bottom line on ice is that it just belongs in your drinks, not on your aircraft. It can be insidious and bring an aircraft down, even one that is equipped for it.

DESCENT

About an hour out from the destination airport I would start getting my mind set for the last phase of the operation- approach and landing. I usually would call FSS from the air and get the latest weather each hour and would always try to pass on some type of Pirep (pilot report), if nothing else than "smooth air at 230".

Descents in the 421B could be adventurous, as the controllers, most of which are not pilots, tended to think that if you were cruising that high you must be turbine powered. This could lead to a steep, diving descent close to your destination- not a problem for a turbine aircraft, but potentially very expensive for a 421B operator. The Continental GTSIO 520 engines did not like to be cooled rapidly, and would react by breaking piston rings and warping valves if they were. The answer to this was to start down early. At FL230 I would want to start down at least 50 miles outside of the Initial Approach Fix.

The procedure was to back off of the manifold pressure by 2 inches, let things stabilize for 2 minutes, back off another 2 inches, wait 2 minutes and so on. If Center didnít start us down I would call for lower "Center, 57 Golf will take lower when you can work it in Sir." The good folks on the ground would almost always cooperate unless they had conflicting traffic. "Roger 57 Golf, descend to and maintain 17 thousand". "Out of 230 for 17 thousand, 57 Golf". "Roger 57 Golf, Greenfield altimeter is twenty nine seventy two." "Twenty nine seventy two, thank you, 57 Golf." The Altitude Alert was set for 17,000 feet and the comforting arrow would illuminate to indicate that it was indeed below us.

The autopilot was rolled out of the center detent and we started a descent for lower altitudes. Power back to 30 inches of manifold pressure and note the time for the next ìtwo inch adjustmentî. Reach down and set the cabin pressurization controller for the elevation of the landing airport, setting the cabin vertical speed to no more than 150 feet per minute if possible. I referred earlier to being sensitive to my passengers ears when the cabin was going up, but descending was more difficult for most people. If we had someone on board with a cold I would descend from cruise to a lower altitude much earlier so that the cabin could be brought down at a slower rate.

I would tune in the ATIS for the landing airport as far out as possible and note the current information. If there was no ATIS then I would monitor the tower frequency to get a feel for the field conditions. If no tower then Unicom was tuned in. It was better to do this far out as the closer and lower you got usually the greater the increase in air traffic transmissions. I would do anything I could to eliminate surprises at my landing airport. If the weather was below approach minimums this was the time to decide if we had enough fuel to shoot an approach and "take a look", or just head on over to the alternate airport. As a FAR Part 91 operation, we were allowed to shoot the approach when it was below minimums. The airlines were not permitted to do this.

Passing through FL 180 the altimeter is set for 29.72. Check the cabin pressurization controller to see how it is doing. Back off 2 more inches of manifold pressure. Start going through the pre-landing check list to get as many ducks out of the way as possible- the arrows on the brow-mounted checklist start flipping down. Fuel selectors to the main tanks if they were not there already. Fuel pump switches go from "on" to "standby".

The pressurization system on the 421 was the ultimate in simplicity. After hearing about some of these other designs you may be thinking that it was about time that Cessna "got something right". In effect, it was free. The turbos on each engine were sized larger than the engines required- the excess air went into the cabin to pressurize it. Because this air was quite hot from compression, it passed through the leading edge of the wings where there were radiators that were exposed to ram air by way of an oval cutout in each wing's leading edge.

These were the inter coolers. There were doors on these that could be opened or closed from the panel to control the warmth of the pressurized air entering the cabin. In warm weather they would be open to cool the air and in the winter, or at altitude they would be closed. They usually stuck in one position or the other. After writing them up a dozen or more times for maintenance and not getting them to function without jamming I left them in the open position. Pressurized air entered the cabin through the Wemac vents (those little small things above your head that are round and make a terrible racket if not fully open or closed), and floor vents.

The turbos didn't care what altitude you wanted the cabin at, they just kept cramming the air in and you had no control over their output. If one of the turbos started to leak and the air coming into the cabin was contaminated you could dump the output from the turbo by pulling a knob on the panel out. One turbo could maintain full pressurization in the cabin. There was also a knob labeled "Ram air / Pull to dump" (a charming piece of signage) that was a "one stop" de-pressurization activator that would allow outside air to come into the cabin through a butterfly valve in the forward pressure bulkhead, via an orifice in the aircraft's nose. Lastly, there was a small toggle switch labeled "pressurized / de-pressurized". This electrically opened or closed the dump valve on the aft pressure bulkhead. I think I made one hop around the patch in the unpressurized mode, but beyond that we always operated with a pressurized cabin.

So the turbos keep cramming the air into the cabin- how did it get out? Well, those clever Cessna guys put two valves about the size of softballs on the aft pressure bulkhead. One was the aforementioned dump valve, electrically controlled. This fellow also was the emergency over-pressurization valve and would limit the pressure differential to 5.3 psi. The other was the cabin pressure regulating valve. This valve was responsible for maintaining the cabin altitude. It was tied into the "variable cabin pressure rate controller" in the front office. This controller was located below the center power quadrant, below the autopilot control head and near the floor so that it would be accessible to either crew member. It operated off of engine vacuum and had two knobs: one to set the cabin altitude, and the second one to adjust the cabin's rate of climb.

It all may sound rather complex, but in truth it was a simple system to operate. The only catch was that the cabin could not be pressurized on the ground. There was a squat switch on the left oleo that was tied into the dump valve to prevent ground pressurization. If you set the "variable cabin pressure rate controller" to your cruise altitude, and let's just say that was for a cabin altitude of 7,000 feet, the controller would immediately start climbing the cabin to the assigned altitude as soon as it had engine vacuum. Since the aircraft was on the ground and could not be pressurized, what would happen is as soon as the aircraft took off the cabin would climb at the same rate as the aircraft to 7,000 feet and then stop and stay pressurized at that altitude- very uncomfortable to the ears. For this reason one of my last stops on the takeoff check list was to set the cabin controller.

APPROACH

Tuning in Wichitaís ATIS (I thought it only right to bring 57G back to her birth place) I hear on Comm. 3 "Wichita Mid-Continent Information Bravo. Wichita weather is 900 overcast, visibility 2 in light drizzle, fog. Temperature 45 degrees, dew point 43. Wind is 020 degrees at 15 gusting to 30. Altimeter 29.85. Landing and departing runways 1 Left and Right. Advise on initial contact that you have Information Bravo." This is all written down on my dispatch form.

At 900 feet overcast I know that we will most likely breakout of the clouds after the Outer marker, but before the Middle one. Visibility is good and the temperature is high enough to take off any residual ice that may be left clinging to antennas and other non-protected parts of the aircraft. It will be lumpy though with those winds, so the passengers will have a bumpy ride in. I turn to the trusting souls sitting behind me in the main cabin and casually tell them that the weather in Wichita is overcast and foggy but that we'll have no problems getting in, although there will be a little turbulence.

I start setting up the radios for the approach.

"Cessna 57 Golf continue your descent to 10 thousand, contact Wichita Approach on 120 point 6- good day". "Out of 17 for 10 thousand- good day to you Sir, 57G". I reach up and reset the Altitude Alert to 10 thousand. "Good afternoon Approach, Cessna 1557 Golf is with you out of 15 point 3 for 10 thousand, Bravo". "Roger 57G, Wichita Approach. Fly heading 190 degrees, vector ILS Runway One Right. Descend to and maintain 5 thousand." The Altitude Alert is reset to 5 thousand, and the heading bug on the HSI is set to 190. "190 on the heading, we're out of 11 point six for 5, 57 Golf."

The landing lights are turned on. These dropped down from the bottom of the tip tanks by way of electric motors. Strangely enough, there was no airspeed limitation for their extension. The landing lights on the engine cowls are turned on. Once the gear is down we will be showing 5 landing lights, 3 navigation lights, 3 strobe lights and 2 red rotating beacons.

We are a Christmas tree coming in to land.

A question often heard from non-pilots the first time they hear all that chatter on the radios is "How do you pick out your aircraft number from all that other stuff going on?". And the answer is that's it's just one of those things. You can hear radio traffic all day long and not pay any attention. But, as soon as _your number_ is called the mind just goes full alert. That's just the way it works. Sometimes, if there is an aircraft in trouble, or if there is possible conflicting traffic you may pay attention to the other guy, but usually you just tune all of the other stuff out.

"Cessna 57 Golf turn right heading 240." The heading bug on the HSI is set to 240. "Right to 240 57 Golf." "Cessna 57 Golf continue right turn to 330, descend to and maintain 4 thousand." The Altitude Alert is set to 4 thousand and the heading bug on the HSI turned to 330. "Right to 330, out of 5 for 4, 57 Golf." The "seat belts" sign and the "no smoking" sign are turned on. Each illuminate with their familiar chime.

Orientation is the name of the game when flying, especially when shooting an approach.

Anything, and everything, that you can do to understand and visualize your position in space is helpful. Setting the heading bug on the HSI is an invaluable aid to remembering your assigned heading. The Altitude Alert System served the same purpose for climbs and descents. In my mind I constantly tried to place 57 Golf in the airspace she was operating in, seeing where we were in the "big picture", visualizing our heading, track, the next navigation fix, the airport etc.

(One time, on an approach I just lost it and didn't know where I was on the approach. There was no LOM for the ADF to point to and I just couldn't figure out where I was. Worse, it was an airport in western Colorado with mountains about. It was a genuine feeling of panic. Then, just as fast as I had lost the orientation, it came back again. The feeling, hurtling along in that gray mass, not knowing where I was, was really scary.)

By this time the aircraft would be pretty well setup for the approach into Wichita's runway 1 Right. Drag out the appropriate Jeppesen book. I had two racks, one on either side behind the cabin divider, each held four Jeppesen binders. With our trips taking us all over the U.S. I needed full coverage of the States, plus High Altitude coverage, plus RNAV coverage- doing the revisions was a royal pain. Once a year Jeppesen would come out with a check list for every chart and approach plate. It was a large piece of paper about the size of a road map with print 1/8 of an inch high on both sides. You checked off each item and its date to make certain that everything was current- a severe royal, but necessary, pain. My wife/life-partner was a true aid in this endeavor.

Nav. one drove the HSI, Nav. 2 drove the number two head on the panel. At this point Nav. one would be set to 110.3, the ILS frequency for runway 1 Right. The course selector on the HSI would be set to 013 degrees, the ILS course. Nav. 2 would be tuned to the ICT VORTAC and the RNAV would be set to 142 degrees at 11.7 miles. This "moves" the ICT VORTAC to the Outer Marker and gives me a visual display with mileage countdown on the RNAV's DME. This "phantom VORTAC" will appear as if it were real as far as the display was concerned, giving me distance, azimuth and ground speed to the Outer Marker.

RNAV was a wonderful thing for orientation.

There is no DME associated with this ILS, so the number one DME would be set to the ICT VORTAC to act as back-up orientation (distance from ICT) for the Outer Marker. When the RMI indicator centered on the 142 degree radial it would signify the location of the Outer Marker and the DME would read 11.7 miles from the ICT VORTAC. The ADF would be tuned to 332 kilohertz- "Piche", the Outer Marker Locator, and set to the ADF mode. It would act as a third indicator of passage over the Outer Marker as it swung 180 degrees from the nose to the tail of the aircraft after passage over the Marker.

On an ILS (Instrument Landing System) approach, the Outer Marker was the zenith of all of the various components. This is where the gear goes down. This is where, or near where, the final descent commences. This is when you contact the Tower for the first time. This is where the clock starts counting for a possible missed approach.

In the case of our approach into Wichita's runway One Right, the Outer Marker is named "Piche".

Comm. 1 or 2 would be on the active Approach frequency and the other would be tuned to the Tower, 118.2. Comm 3 stayed on the ATIS frequency. Lastly the Marker Beacon Receiver would be switched to the "speaker" position so that the familiar "dah dah dah" of passage could be heard. I found that passengers enjoyed hearing this audio activity so I would use this setup rather than directing it to my headset. I used a Telex unit that was very light in weight with a boom mic that could be swung up and over my head to get it out of the way. To transmit there was a button on the control wheel that activated whatever transmitter was selected at the Audio Control Panel. This way you never had to divert your eyes when talking on the radio. There was a backup hand-held microphone under the center console in addition to a backup headset with mic for the copilot's position.

OK, nav. radios are set- what's left? The radar altimeter is set to 200 feet, the minimums for this approach. The audio out from this unit is left turned off as it gave a loud "whoop" when it hit the selected altitude- quite disturbing to the folks out back, and distracting to me up front. There was a red light that was activated at the same time as the audio alert, and it was positioned right next to the digital altimeter. The radar altimeter was a real comfort on tight approaches when we were going right down to the wire. The sensation of watching the unit picking up a return from the ground while you are still in "the soup" is strange.

The landing check list is completed as far as possible. Cabin pressurization to 1,330 feet, the elevation of the Wichita Mid-Continent Airport. Fuel selectors were on the Mains and the standby pumps were in the "armed" position. Power has been slowly reduced so that at this stage we have about 26 inches of Manifold Pressure. The props have been left at their cruise setting- 1,725 RPM.

I never took to the idea of running up the props to low pitch/high RPM for a normal approach. It seemed like unnecessary wear on the engines, and tended to scare the bajeebez out of the passengers. If weather was down to the nubs and a missed approach looked like a possibility then I would bring the props up. Otherwise they stayed at cruise setting.

The mixtures had been brought up in small increments as the power was being staged back. I wanted the engines to be cooling down so that when the final power reduction was made over the threshold they wouldnít be temperature-shocked. At this point in the approach all that was left to do was position the flaps and drop the gear. Their two arrows were the only ones left that were still "up" on the landing checklist.

The first notch of flaps on the 421 was to 15 degrees and could be lowered at or below 175 knots. After this first flap deployment there was a 30 knot gap to 145 knots before the gear could be extended. This low speed limitation on the gear was due to the large doors that covered the wheels. Once these doors were back in the bottom of the wing there was no problem. It was their cycling in the airflow that created the speed limitation. When Cessna came out with the "C" model they got rid of these doors and upped the gear speed to 175 knots. The 145 knot limitation on the gear was a real hindrance in operations to busy fields like O'Hare and JFK, as the controllers invariably wanted you to "...keep your speed up to the Marker". The problem was that as soon as you hit the marker you normally would start your descent to track the glide slope down. If the gear wasn't extend by that time the airspeed was only going to increase, as the gap between your actual airspeed and your gear extension speed widened.

My work-around for this was not very elegant but it was effective. If we were well outside of the Marker when ATC wanted more speed, I would drop the first notch of flaps, slow to 145 knots, drop the gear, bring up the flaps again, and bring up the power to get whatever speed Approach wanted. If we were constantly descending and unable to slow down enough by the time we hit the Marker, I would pull back and "balloon" the aircraft by going into a climb, dropping the airspeed, pop the gear at 145 knots and then push back down and pursue the now pegged glideslope indicator. This procedure, while effective, was not an ideal one, and made for some interesting profiles on the few approaches that I had to use it.

"Cessna 57 Golf, turn right heading 360, intercept the localizer inbound. Descend to and maintain 3,000 feet until established on the approach. You're cleared the ILS runway 1 Right approach into Wichita Mid-Continent Airport, contact the Tower at Piche inbound- good day!" The Altitude Alert is set to 3,000 and the heading bug moves over to 360. "Cleared the approach, 3,000 until established, Tower at Piche. Good day to you Sir! 57 Golf".

With a surface temperature of 45 degrees at least I didn't have to worry about the brakes freezing up. The original 421 had multiple discs on the wheel assembly that would be clamped by the brake calipers. The problem was that in cold weather operation moisture would get between the disks on takeoff and freeze. This had the effect of applying the brakes in full so that the wheels would be locked at touchdown, resulting in a skid down the runway and lots of smoke. The brakes would eventually release during the roll out but one would always let go before the other. The only way to over come this adverse braking was to use differential power on the engines while you waited for the other brake to pop free- it could make for some exciting landings, and some lumpy tires. The Cleveland Brake Company came out with a conversion about two years after we purchased 57 Golf that had a single large disc and multiple pads- I was one of the first to make the conversion. You seldom see 421's with the original brake setup due to this problem. Cessna finally adopted the Cleveland concept and eventually installed their brakes on all production 421's.

On our assigned heading of 360 we will intercept the Localizer at a 10 degree angle- a rather fine cut by Approach. However the winds on the surface are reported at 020 degrees 15 knots and gusting. The rule of thumb is that the winds 2,000 feet above the ground will usually rotate 90 degrees clockwise, so the winds in the vicinity of the Marker are probably out of the East at around 20 to 30 knots. This explains the small intercept angle that Approach has given us. The RNAV DME displays 6 miles to Piche and the approach plate shows we can descend to 2,700 feet.

Now the Altitude Alert is set to 3,500 feet- the altitude we will climb to in the event of a missed approach. We leave 3,000 feet for 2,700. No call is made to Approach as we are established on the approach and are authorized to follow the approach procedure. The airspeed at this time is about 160 knots. Less than half a mile from Piche the Glideslope starts to drop down. As it centers in the HSI, I trim forward and lower the flaps to their first notch, 15 degrees. The mixtures are run up to full rich. Now all of the arrows but one on the checklist are pointing down- gear to go. With the first notch of flaps applied the airspeed drops to 140 knots. We follow the Glideslope down and maintain track on the Localizer.

The 421B had electric trim for the elevator. There was a sliding switch on the left side of the wheel that sat right where your thumb fell- the right side of the wheel was where the "push-to-talk" switch resided. The manual elevator trim was just to the side of my right knee- very convenient. During operations the left hand was used for driving the airplane and the right hand for power and elevator trim. I would trim out manually except for the flare at landing. During that phase of the operation I would use my left thumb to "lay back" on the electric trim so that the aircraft stayed neutral right through the flare and touchdown. In the event of a runaway trim condition there was a safety switch located on the wheel for disengaging the electric trim. Next to it was the safety switch to disarm the autopilot. Both were spring-loaded and required just a push forward with your thumb to do their job.

Shortly after starting down the glideslope the Marker Beacon receiver comes alive with a flashing light and an audio signal. I reach up and switch from "high" to "low" sensitivity- the signal dies away only to come back again as we come up on the marker. "Dah, dah, dah". The RNAV display goes to zero and the "to/from" flag reverses, as does the arrow pointing to our phantom VORTAC. The ADF swings from the nose to the tail. The number one DME reads 11.7 and the RMI shows us crossing the 142 degree radial from the ICT VORTAC.

We are over Piche, the Outer Marker.

"Good morning Wichita, Cessna 57 Golf is with you, Piche inbound." The gear is dropped and the last arrow on the checklist points down. "Good morning 57 Golf, youíre cleared to land, runway 1 Right, wind is 020 at 15 with gusts to 25, altimeter 29.86". The cabin comes alive as the little electric motor that drives the gear, but resides inside of the cabin under the floorboards, whines away. The most beautiful sight to a pilot appears on the panel: three green lights, indicating that the nose and both mains are down and in the locked position.

I reach over and cycle the "seat belts" sign so the chime will go off as a last reminder to my passengers. About half way between the Outer Marker and the Middle Marker we break out of the overcast and see the ground for the first time since we left Minneapolis.

Many trips were such that you "sucked up into an overcast" right after departure. At the higher flight levels you were almost always guaranteed a ride in the sunshine but sometimes with a solid overcast below. Then, on approach, you descended back through the clouds hoping that the Earth, which was hidden all this time by clouds, was still there.

There is always a strong temptation to go "heads up" after breaking out of the overcast. This invariably leads to a botched landing.

All those instruments got you this far, stay with them until the end.

The marker beacon receiver starts its "dit dah, dit dah, dit dah" to signify the Middle Marker. (Poor Middle Markers- Outer Markers get names, Middle Markers never do.) At the middle marker flaps are lowered to 30 degrees.

The 421B's flaps are of the "split" variety. They provide an incredible amount of drag that slows the airplane down. The ride gets a little bumpy from the gusty winds, and power is brought up to help compensate for the bouncing airspeed. Approach speed for the 421B was 120 knots right up until crossing the end of the runway. This gave adequate airspeed reserve in case of engine failure, and the aircraft just plain felt better at this speed. The propellers were almost eight feet in diameter- 90 inches. When power was brought all of the way back they went into flat pitch. The effect was to have two eight foot diameter flat plates in front of the aircraft- this slowed the airplane dramatically.

About one half mile out from touchdown I transition to pure visual after making a last check of all gauges and the checklist. The left hand is driving while the right hand is on the throttle quadrant to adjust power as necessary. A crab is established to the right to compensate for the crosswind. Things get busy now- no distractions please. Crossing the runway threshold, power is brought all of the way back to the stops. Flaps are dropped to full- 45 degrees. The aircraft noticeably slows as the props go "flat"- you can actually feel the effect on your seat belt.

I lower the right wing and add compensating left rudder to steer the aircraft straight down the runway. My left thumb is on the elevator electric trim switch letting it trim back to the stops. Ailerons and rudder are adjusted as the wind gusts and we settle down towards the runway. The right main gear touches first. I continue on the right main briefly as the ship slows down then center the wheel and straighten out the rudder allowing the left main to make contact. Then the nose is held up until the wheel is full back in my stomach and it makes contact on its' own. Once all wheels are on the ground slight forward pressure is applied to help the aircraft "stick" in the gusty winds. I reach over and grab the flap handle. I do "the drill". Is this a flap handle? Yes, this is a flap handle. I raise the flaps, reassured that this time "the drill" has prevented me from inadvertently raising the landing gear- it happens.

The aircraft rolls down the runway as the brakes are applied and we slow down to make the approaching turnoff. "Cessna 57 Golf turn right on the first available, contact Ground, point 9". Strobes "off", transponder to "standby", fuel pumps to the "low" position, and the cabin air circulation fan is turned to "high". "Good afternoon Ground, 57 Golf is clear, taxing to the Cessna ramp". "Roger 57 Golf, cleared to the Cessna ramp, yield to the Citation taxing out." (See, I told you that the jets had all the class.) "57 Golf".

We taxi to the ramp keeping the eyes alert for the lineman that will direct us to parking. He appears out of the light mist that is falling and slots us right in front of the lounge. This is good as it makes for a shorter walk for my passengers. The FBO, Cessna, will tow the aircraft to whatever location is best for them after they know how long we will be with them. Gentle brake to a stop. Verify that the flaps are raised. If you have left them down by accident, a good lineman will give you little "up motions" with his hands to remind you so you don't embarrass yourself in front of your passengers. Radio Master "off", fuel pumps "off", cabin air circulation fan "off". Our taxi has been long enough for the turbos to spin down, otherwise I would be forced to make the poor lineman wait for a couple of minutes while they do. Failing to let the turbos spin down will lead to premature bearing failure as they spin at high rpm and the oil pressure is cut off at engine shut down.

The throttles are run up to 800 rpm and then both mixtures are pulled back to the stops, idle cut-off. This makes for a smooth engine shut down. The seat belt sign and no smoking sign are turned "off" and the chimes sound loud in the now quiet cabin. Rotating beacons and navigation lights "off", mag. switches "off" (there is a "gang bar" across the mag. switches that allows you to turn them all "off" in one motion). Lastly the Battery Master switch is turned "off". The lineman has chocked the nosewheel.

The only sound inside of the aircraft is that of the gyros spinning down.

November One Five Five Seven Golf is home.

EPILOGUE

Throughout this narrative I have used the word "we" an awful lot. In all cases I was referring to 57G and me. "We" were partners, a team. I know this probably sounds corny but that's the way it was. Once my company took delivery of the aircraft, I was the only one to ever handle the controls in flight. You form a bond with this inanimate object that you strapped your butt to for so long. N1557G made me look good. In addition, she got me out of a lot of difficult situations and never let me down. When I needed her to carry more weight than she really should have, she did it without complaint. When the thunderstorms crowded the skies we made it through. When the weather was on the nubbs we made the approach.

She never let me down.

The time came when the Old Guard at the company was replaced by the New Generation- the bean counters. They looked at the numbers for the airplane operation and decided to close it down. They never saw the sales that happened because we were able pick up a customer at his home town airport, and take him to see a machine just like he wanted- and have him home that night. Or the customer that was "trapped" at 20,000 feet with our salesman "working him over". That we were able to leave when we wanted to, and go where we wanted to. The list goes on. The accountants never saw this. The wives of the company's employees called me when they heard the news- they really felt bad.

"We" had always gotten their husbands home, safe and sound.

I flew N1557G non-stop from Minneapolis to Tampa, Florida to deliver her to the new owner. He had a hunting lodge in Eufaula, Alabama. We carried him, his new pilot and his associates there in his new acquisition. After landing and securing the aircraft I removed my personal items for the commercial flight home. I walked away from this old friend, and never looked back.

I never saw N1557G again and have not controlled an aircraft in flight since.

N1557G was a good bird.

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revised 5 January, 2009: correction on cruise power setting made. Thanks to Kyle Spaulding for pointing this our.
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