Weekend Warriors

Join the queue. When the weekend comes, so do the pilots.

With all the flying I've been doing lately in preparation for my commercial checkride, I get to see what the Auburn airport looks like at different times of the week. It hasn't taken long for me to recognize a pattern. Three basic variables seem to largely determine the number of planes in the traffic pattern: time of day, day of the week, and weather.

Understandably, there are not very many guys out flying mid-week, probably because they're at work, in school, or both. Those who do come out tend to get their flying in during the morning, because the bright California sun during this time of year makes little cockpits without air conditioners very uncomfortable. Then of course, if it's just lousy weather outside, more people are going to stay home, or perhaps hang out indoors at the airport swapping tall flying stories.

I could have expected the airspace to be somewhat busier than the past few days when I headed out to the airport yesterday, but I didn't quite anticipate how crowded things would be. But, after all, it was the perfect Sunday morning for everyone and his dog (yes, I know of a guy who keeps a logbook for his dog) to hop in a plane and charge off into the cool, crystal clear skies.

After days of smoke-filled skies, it's hard to resist this.

The pattern had quieted down a bit when I pulled onto the runway to takeoff toward the practice area, but when I returned an hour later it was buzzing again. Usually I like to get in several landings on a practice flight, so after the initial landing, I headed back up the taxiway to takeoff again. This time I joined a line of two other planes waiting for another two planes to land. Sitting there twiddling my thumbs, I turned to Joel in the right seat (the 15 year-old aspiring pilot who finally got to take his first general aviation plane ride) and told him we would just do one pattern and then call it a day.

"Otherwise we'll be spending more time on the ground than in the air," I chuckled. By now the tail-wheel Skylane ahead of us was lifting off the runway, and it was our turn to take off. I waited a little bit longer, knowing that our zippy Arrow would catch up very quickly to the other airplanes making their way around the pattern. As I applied full power and sped down the runway, I heard an Experimental plane announcing its takeoff right behind us.

Just a few seconds after takeoff I started to see just how crowded the pattern was becoming. Off to my left I spotted two Cessnas on the downwind, flying side-by-side with just a few hundred feet between them. "Aircraft on the downwind, you guys are flying parallel," I warned over the radio.

"Roger, we'll do a 360 for spacing and re-enter the pattern," the pilot in the outer plane replied, banking to the right. "Arrow 90J is extending our upwind for traffic and we'll be number 3 when we turn on downwind," I announced.

"See and avoid" - sometimes both very challenging tasks.

Beginning my left turn to crosswind, another plane seemed to appear out of nowhere, just ahead and to the left, cutting in front of us into the traffic pattern. I couldn't remember hearing this guy announcing his presence, but then again, maybe I just lost his voice in the constant radio chatter. Adjusting my turn to try and come in behind the slower plane, I suddenly caught sight of the Experimental closing in from behind us. The pilot was droning something garbled over his radio, but the only thing registering was all these airplanes - and all way too close together! Feeling very boxed in, I started to turn for clearer skies.

I keyed the mic, "Experimental, did you say you were going over us?" "Yes," came the crackly reply. I wasn't thrilled with his method of traffic avoidance, but at least he knew where I was. I banked to re-enter the traffic pattern, this time as airplane number 4 in line for the runway. Flying along at 100 mph with gear down, I watched as each plane took its own sweet time descending toward the tarmac. Finally it was us touching down, and as I cleared the runway, I was happier than usual to be heading for the parking ramp.

I can't blame the Weekend Warriors for getting out to enjoy such a lovely flying day - after all, Sunday flying was all I was doing up until recently. But though it's good for everyone to be able to enjoy the miracle of flight, I prefer when everyone isn't doing it all at the same time!