Having been (and will continue to be) a proponent of flying stabilized traffic patterns, I’m reminded of a presentation I gave earlier. One that I’m actually preparing to give again in less than a week on the topic of backcountry flying. In this presentation I talk about three basic concepts that I believe will not only make pilots better backcountry aviators, but better aviators as a whole. One of those concepts is on the subject of airmanship, and how there’s a common question on what backcountry airstrip is a good “beginner” airstrip. When that question gets asked, as it does often, I’ll always reply in a similar fashion…”where is your home airport? Yeah, that’s the best beginner airstrip.”
There’s nothing standard about the backcountry. No standard markings. No standard landing surfaces. No standard approaches. Even if we were to focus on one airstrip, say, Bar Ten pictured above, every second of every day something is different about this airstrip that requires the pilot to make calculated adjustments to not only their flight paths, but to their considerations on where they are within the limitations of themselves, their aircraft, and their environment. But in this chaos of change, how do we achieve this mythical “stabilized approach” that everyone talks about?
Recently I came upon a well-liked instagram post from a pilot who was expressing their frustrations with other pilots who were flying wider traffic patterns than they were. And while I can relate to the pilot, I was thinking back to a time a few weeks ago while I sat atop a hill and with the aid of my new binoculars, watched our three friends fly their airplanes into the Bar 10 airstrip in various downwind, base, and final segments and wondered about the plight of this upset pilot and the underlying issues that these discussions bring forth.
At my home airport of South Valley (forever Number Two in my book), my Cub likely takes first place in the slowest plane on the downwind. When the pattern starts to get busy, there’s a simple mathematical problem to solve here. With a 20+ mile per hour differential on the downwind, one would see that something needs to change. And while the idea of a faster Cub is not lost on me, the reality is that there’s two things that can be done to “fit” into the traffic pattern. One is distance, and the other is speed. While I can control the distance with a shorter crosswind, base, and final (all well within the guidelines found in AIM 4-3-3), the reality is that other aircraft in the pattern may need to adjust their airspeed as well (addressed in the Airplane Flying Handbook Chapter 8).
Varying patterns aside, there’s this adage that our downwind legs must put us in a position that at the loss of the engine, a glide to the runway can be made. While the impetus of this may have been one instructor’s experience losing an engine on the downwind and either the praise or shame they received on their performance, the likelihood is that this concept comes from the 180º power-off approach maneuver that Commercial Pilot applicants must demonstrate with great accuracy. Reading the Airplane Flying Handbook again, downwind legs are to be flown anywhere from 1/2 to 1 mile away from the runway. Referring to an FAA document on Best Glide Speed, a rule of thumb that most training aircraft are capable of gliding over 1.5 miles with 1,000’ of altitude above the ground would mean that a standard downwind would suffice this adage.
My issue with these comments on “tighter patterns” is that they seem to come from frustrations that pilots have that these “loose pattern” flyers are over-exemplifying the “stabilized approach” concept. Some will even scoff at the Part 141 schools that are supposedly teaching pilots of 172s how to fly 747 patterns (must have been a change since my days in Prescott). Regardless of why the airplane ahead may be flying a wider downwind or a longer final, the concept of stabilized approach is not and should not be based on some arbitrary point on the downwind where you always reduce the power and configure the airplane. Perhaps that works when you are the only one in the pattern, but as the supposed pilot shortage and lucrative airline contracts keep your local traffic patterns full, those days are long gone. And if you’re going to fly in the backcountry, this idea of using the same place to pull power won’t do you any good when you’re flying through the canyon the Muddy Creek created in the San Rafael Swell into the Hidden Splendor airstrip.
“If you lost your power base to final, could you make the runway?” How would one make certain that in a wider, congested, extended traffic pattern, that if this ability was your prime directive, that it would be attainable? While some might want to complete 360s or adjust their spacing on downwind so they can arrive at the coveted downwind abeam point ready to reduce power and establish a descent, the reality is that the safest course of action is to delay said power reduction and descent as to allow you to have the “stabilized approach” of your dreams, albeit modified for the extension on the downwind. Going backwards from the intended touchdown point, establishing a “key point” on final to ascertain your ability to achieve your goal of a touchdown on your intended point on the landing surface, one can build this stabilized approach from a point to traffic pattern altitude, whether that be downwind midfield, abeam, or, in the case of a busy non-towered airport, a few miles on extended downwind. In reality, most pilots will instinctively pull the power abeam, and either increase power on the base leg, or worse, drag it in on final. Don’t believe me? Head to your local airport on a busy day and listen closely to the power changes.
The more these pilots complain that these bomber patterns flown by students are ruining their lives, the more I see that the problem isn’t in the student taking their time on crosswind and base, but rather in these whiny pilots who can’t adjust their pattern to accommodate the actions of others. This flexibility in the traffic pattern is a necessary skill when it comes to the backcountry, again, where the stereotypical traffic pattern may not be feasible. And, to be honest, unless you are one of “those” YouTubers who profit off of their speciation of the actions of other pilots, who are we to belittle the decisions of one pilot purely based on the idea that their downwind isn’t the same as yours? Again, there is a distance, or rather, time problem here being solved individually by each Pilot in Command, and if one pilot wants more time on the crosswind or downwind legs, have at it. And if time permits, let the traffic behind you know.
Outside the grasp of our friends in the control tower, I’ve only seen one traffic pattern so regimented and flown similarly, and that was during the landing competitions at the National Intercollegiate Flying Association’s Annual Competitions. Even there, especially in the power off landing heats, the actions of one pilot could have had detrimental effects on every competitor who followed behind them. And as much as pilots would be quick to blame the lead for turning too late to the base leg, the responsibility on spacing is on the pilot following them. Flexibility on the departure leg and / or manipulating their speed on the downwind are deemed acceptable maneuvers with no added penalty points.
I’m not here to brag that I fly tighter traffic patterns than most, I’m here to tell those who do so indirectly when complaining about other pilots that they need to relax. Just because the preceding pilot has ruined your “stabilized” approach doesn’t mean that they have ruined theirs. As one of my first professors always said, “flexibility is the key to air power.” The more we set arbitrary requirements for where our stabilized approach begins, the reality that what you call stabilized and I would call lazy sets in. And Heaven help you if you find yourself in a confined valley, into an unfamiliar airstrip, in weather conditions a few hundred miles from an AWOS station. Let alone following a pilot who’s stabilized approach is different from yours.