Even the best pilots can’t know what local aviators know about flying in and out of their airport, so they’ll call ahead to find out what they know. This is particularly helpful when flying into mountain airports with unusual terrain and congested metropolitan areas.
I wrote in a previous column that many bad, and sometimes fatal, landings are rooted in poorly thought-out approaches to landing. I said I’d write in the future about a fatal accident in North Carolina that was preceded by an unusual approach. It’s a cautionary tale that while we can often get away with just showing up at an airport in the flatlands, the same lack of planning at mountain airports can be fatal.
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Subscribe NowThe National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) preliminary report reads: “On September 18, 2025, at 1456 eastern daylight time, a Cirrus SR22T, N218VB, was substantially damaged when it was involved in an accident near Franklin, North Carolina. The private pilot and two passengers were fatally injured.”
The pilot was on an IFR flight from John C. Tune Airport (KJWN), Nashville, Tennessee, to Macon County Airport (1A5) in Franklin. As the pilot approached 1A5, he requested a visual approach to Runway 7.
The airport is located in a bowl surrounded by high terrain. The field elevation is 2,034 feet, and the surrounding mountains rise to over 5,000 feet in most directions. There’s just one instrument approach, the RNAV (GPS)-A, and it has an MDA of 3,620 feet, which is 1,586 feet agl. But it approaches the airport from the southeast, opposite the direction the accident aircraft was coming from. So, it’s understandable that the pilot chose to fly a visual approach.
The winds were calm, and the altimeter setting was 30.13. Since ADS-B data is referenced to standard pressure of 29.92, the airplane’s actual altitude was 210 feet higher than the ADS-B data that you might see online. To account for that, the altitudes I’ll mention are 200 feet higher than the raw ADS-B data.
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To get down, the aircraft rolled out on a 1.4 mile final at 5,600 feet and almost immediately started a left 360-degree turn back to final. When he rolled out of the turn, he was 1.2 miles from the runway threshold and at 3,800 feet, or 1,766 feet agl, with a 143 knot ground speed. He overflew the runway, and by the time he was at the far end, he was at 3,000 feet, still above the 2,814 feet (780 feet agl) traffic pattern altitude listed in the FAA chart supplement.
The aircraft then flew a left traffic pattern while climbing slowly, reaching a peak altitude of 3,500, and maintained that altitude until it was on the base leg. The aircraft rolled out on a 1.2 mile final at about 3,000 feet and 130 knots. The descent rate on base and final appears to be over 1,300 fpm, which suggests an unstable approach.
“Surveillance video showed the airplane flying over the runway before initiating a descending left turn,” the NTSB report said. “The airplane continued descending in the left turn before entering a tightening spiral and impacting the ground. The airplane was described as rocking side to side, with its wingtips moving up and down, before rolling inverted and descending behind a tree line. The airplane impacted a field about 0.25 miles east of 1A5.”
Flying at traffic pattern altitude is important, which is why pilots need to maintain the TPA within plus or minus 100 feet on check rides. In this case, being nearly 700 feet above TPA on the base leg set up the pilot for needing a high descent rate to make it down to the runway. High descent rates are sometimes a precursor to an accident. When I fly an 800-foot traffic pattern, I make sure that I’ve lost at least 100 feet before turning base, and then typically lose another 200 feet on base. For a 1,000-foot traffic pattern, I lose 200 feet before turning base.
I talked about this accident on my Aviation News Talk podcast, and two listeners emailed to relate their prior experiences landing at 1A5. One listener, Laura Simons, wrote: “I called and spoke with the worker at the airport before going. He is a GA pilot and has years of experience flying here. He talked me through approaching the airport by following the river starting at a VFR reporting point southeast of KTYS.”
The river valley is easily found by looking at a sectional chart. Sadly, it’s not far from the GPS direct path the accident pilot flew to the airport. Had he altered course a little to the east, he could have descended through the valley and arrived on a 45-degree entry to the airport at traffic pattern altitude.
Another listener, Drew Stoken, wrote that he flew the RNAV (GPS) A approach to the airport: “I chose left traffic to Runway 7, as the winds favored that runway at the time. As I was on the downwind, eyeing up my base turn, I noticed a very intimidating ridge rising up to meet my base leg. I still needed to lose altitude and turned onto base and crossed that ridge…seemingly very close to the trees. This is where the magic happened. I knew that I wouldn’t have a glideslope since it was a circling approach, so I had entered the visual approach to Runway 7.”
I’ve written before about the visual approaches that can be loaded with some Garmin navigators. Essentially, they provide navigation along the extended centerline to a runway, and many of them include vertical guidance. However, the vertical guidance doesn’t guarantee terrain clearance, so never use one of these visual approaches to fly into an unfamiliar airport at night or in poor visibility.
Another challenge when flying in the mountains is letting yourself move closer to terrain than may initially feel comfortable. When pilots become spooked by the terrain and remain too high in a traffic pattern, they set themselves up for an unstable approach with a high descent rate. Seaplane flying can help with this skill, as you often need to be close to the grass or trees when landing on a lake.
It can be hazardous to your health to just show up at a mountain airport without some advance planning as to how you’ll enter and fly the traffic pattern. So, make it a point to call the FBO, airport manager, or a pilot who flies there regularly and ask how they do it. Then fly it their way, because local knowledge is king.
This column first appeared in the March Issue 968 of the FLYING print edition.
