By Tim Rees 

A typical Saturday morning has woken the air traffic and it is gradually building. The peak morning rush, typical of a weekday malaise, is nowhere to be seen. The high pressure chaos is replaced by chirpy parachute aircraft operating throughout the Hunter Valley eagerly climbing and descending without the cares of schedules and delays. My Air Traffic Control team (Macquarie), geographically named around the landscape that belies Lake Macquarie, is operating with all the sectors combined.

While the RPT aircraft warm to the morning crest, multiple GA aircraft begin their favoured weekend routine, dusting the daily grind in favour of a pleasurable morning of blue sky flying. The forecast, typical of an October morning, predicts fine weather: predominantly CAVOK. Perfect, another day of trouble-free VFR…

Air Traffic Control is controlled by many complex systems: every normal routine has been developed with a systematic approach to reduce risk and produce efficiency. A lot of these systems are automated, with technology driving efficiency while providing tools that provide safety alerting and exact communication. Like pilots, check-lists are used to manage the controller-machine interface, providing support for the human to produce outcomes desirable to the travelling public. Who was to know that today I was going to be needing one of the checklists.

The morning was travelling slowly: I had my first break, read my favourite newspaper sports section and returned to the operations room. After the sector hand-over, my colleague comments on the amount of ‘black-tracks’ this morning. (This terminology commonly referring to the amount of uncoupled, non flight planned VFR traffic; physically black on our screens). While certainly not uncommon, it indicates potential for high R/T workload and chatter on the VHF, which may plan our de-combining of the high-level jet traffic sectors.

An amended ARFOR alerts on my secondary display. After a quick read (and relevant broadcasts) I note substantial cloud forecast to move across my airspace: while not cumulous-nimbus cloud, it certainly means that VFR aircraft will need to be careful to remain clear of cloud.

The morning seems to drag, another two hours pass and I return for my final stint before leaving to enjoy the afternoon’s festivities. I settle in, blissfully unaware of the potential danger that lies ahead.

I hear a rushed call on the area VHF: “Centre...AB...” I miss the call-sign; the voice sounds firm and slightly stressed. “Station calling centre, go-ahead again please,” I reply. There’s an awkward pause and I receive the reply that will flavour the rest of the morning: “centre, this is RNF, C172; I’m on top of cloud and not sure of my position”. I sit bolt upright in my seat - my Saturday morning relax has come to an abrupt end. I have been here before. I begin to draw on my previous experience and pause to deliver my required response.

My experience has told me that this pilot would not have made this call without trying for some time to establish himself clear of cloud, desperately trying to determine his position. I know that there will be stress in the cockpit, especially if he is inexperienced and alone. My reply needs to be firm, comforting and secure.

“RNF” I reply, “I have copied your transmission, I understand you need some assistance, I can help you; can you answer some questions for me to help me establish your whereabouts?” “Affirm,” he replies.

 Good, I take a breath…I think, I have his attention. I need him to concentrate and listen and not panic. The next few transmissions I establish his likely position, where he last knew where he was. Was he a single pilot? Has he flown with instruments at all before? Is he clear of cloud (not flying through, only above)? Is he able to keep the aircraft level etc? I begin to map my plan of help.

Using the information provided, I approximate his position - somewhere around or west of the Gloucester region. I know that this is goat country and the terrain is high. I look for grid-lowest safes and predict that his A055 is not sufficient and certainly not high enough for me to track him on radar.

I yell at the supervisor. Unbeknownst to me he is standing right behind me, having copied all of my previous transmission. I tell him I need the WLM ATC radar attached (available to civil ATC in emergencies). He replies, “I already have”. He’s already rushed for the In-Flight Emergency Response (IFER) manual, opened to the chapter on VFR on-top-of-cloud. He places this down in front of me and asks me to select the speaker to hear the responses. I quickly commence the check-lists.

The WLM radar is online; I ask RNF if he is able to squawk ident…he does – but I don’t see anything. I ask him if he can safely climb to another level, I need this because I am concerned about terrain and I need to get him on radar. He replies and begins to climb to A065. A radar track appears, then fades, then appears again. “RNF squawk ident again please”, he does and I have him - 15NM from where I thought he would be. I tell him he is identified and that I can help him get to Taree. He sounds relieved…I don’t show it but so am I. I ask him if he can fly headings and he reports, “affirm.” I now know that he is above ‘grid-lowest-safe’ terrain and I can get him towards the coast where I know the terrain is less.

I look for an aircraft to assist - REX219 enroute to Ballina is overhead Williamtown. I ask for his help, listening to the scenario develop he is keen and willing to oblige. I need to find a hole in the cloud: he manoeuvres and descends to provide some real-time data essential for where I need to track the aircraft towards. He reports a hole in the cloud about 40NM north of WLM and about 5NM off the coast… perfect! I will try and track the aircraft there.

While handling the situation front on, my supervisor, acting as my IFER manager, is guiding my actions. Even though I may have control of my actions, having someone removed from the situation will provide greater insight than being directly involved. Through this guidance we have established his endurance, his experience level, declared the appropriate emergency phase, isolated the VHF comms and split off the high level sectors. All the while I continue to support the pilot with calm and gentle communications.

Our job is to prioritise this work to maximise our assistance while still providing ATS to all other aircraft. On this day we were fortunate: the pilot, while unsure of position, didn’t panic. He was able to act calmly and follow instructions, all without having to see the ground. We radar-vectored the aircraft towards that hole in the cloud and he descended, visually tracking and safely landing at Taree.

It was an experience that neither of us would wish to repeat but the pilot would have learned a valuable lesson about how quickly cloud conditions can change. For me, I was just grateful that our technology and IFER procedures had combined to provide a happy outcome.

If only that was always the case.