We GA pilots across the country are racing to equip our airplanes with enroute and approach certified GPS capability.  We proudly file our instrument flight plans with a ". . . /G" after our aircraft type.   The more affluent among us are trading up to "glass cockpits" driven by GPS technology.

As we do this, our land-based navigational proficiency begins to slip to a dangerously low level.  I see this every time I train with pilots of GPS equipped airplanes.  How many of us will be able to comply with the following holding instructions?

"Nxxxx, hold east on the Buffalo 080 radial, 20 DME fix, three mile legs, standard turns, expect further clearance at 2010, time now 1940."

A simple holding instruction involving no named fix can wreak terror in the heart of a GPS-dependent pilot.  "Ah, say again Center, where do you want me to hold?"

Sure, our growing dependency on GPS is still too new that most of us can conjure up a basic recollection of VOR navigation.  We can still find our location by triangulating between two VORs, but those skills are quickly becoming atrophied.

So, what's the problem?  The problem is, ATC still depends upon VORs, VOR radials, and published airways to maintain their desired traffic flows.  For those of us who fly around the big eastern seaboard airports, beware!

Case in point

I recently departed the Atlantic City, NJ airport (KACY) on a flight back to Buffalo.  Having two Garmin 430s in my T-210, I filed a simple two leg routing to bring me around (not through) the busy Philadelphia Class B airspace.  The routing I filed read as follows: "DQO (Dupont VOR) direct."

The "approved" routing read back to me by KACY clearance delivery read as follows:

Does this sound like a simple GPS-Direct routing?  Of course not.  This routing was likely crafted by ATC traffic specialists back in 1972 and has been used ever since to direct Atlantic City traffic northward around Philadelphia.  The fact that I was GPS equipped and filing ". . . /G" had little impact on the routing ATC actually gave me.

Since I was still sitting on the ground, it was a relatively easy task to decode this convoluted clearance, trace the routing on my low altitude enroute charts, and to plug the fixes into my GPS boxes. 

It also required tuning the old-fashion VOR radios and twisting of omni bearing selectors (OBS) to capture the VOR radials referenced in my clearance.

It gets worse!

Just in case you think that this routing was the final word on the subject, here is an amendment to this routing I received during my climb out from KACY:

I have no clue as to what necessitated this re-routing, but it escalated my workload dramatically.  I took another look at the low altitude enroute charts, found the new fixes and airways, and re-programmed the GPS, all while still in the climb.  Yes, Virginia, single pilot IFR requires consummate proficiency.

Wake up . . . Smell the Coffee

All of our new cockpit technology, our GPSs, our glass panels, and our autopilot altitude pre-selects are great labor saving devices.  But if we believe they make life simple for us in the busy northeast or smog-shrouded Los Angeles basin, we need to wake up and smell the coffee.  It just ain't so.

Solution

The solution to our cockpit technology explosion is to turn off the new stuff every so often.  Rather than filing GPS-direct, file ". . . /A" and navigate the old way.  Exercising the past is a very good way to remain proficient in the future!

Lastly, do not fall into the mistaken belief that having enroute and approach certified GPS or a fancy new glass panel equipped airplane makes it possible to file direct to anywhere you wish to go.  Yes, you can expect to go direct in those big open spaces, but certainly not in and around busy airspace.

Every pilot launching on an IFR flight plan suddenly has a whole new group of best friends.  These friends are the nice people who spend their working hours in dimly lit rooms and tower cabs midst big radar screens and hovering supervisors drinking stale coffee. 

And, as good friends, we need to talk with them . . . at specific points along our route of flight.

Naturally, we respond each time we hear them calling our tail number.  We also call them when we have a particular request.

Lastly, there are several times when a call to them is compulsory.  Do you remember when these times are?  If you are an instrument student, you had better know these times for your oral! 

Also as good friends, air traffic controllers can be counted on to help us out of tough situations.  Often regarded as a second or third member of the flight deck crew, controllers hold the keys to such things as: (1) better weather; (2) smoother rides; (3) short cuts and direct routings; and (4) other traffic.

While their sole primary responsibility is traffic separation, sweet talking an air traffic controller can work wonders in our national airspace system.  In fact, the way we talk with them can make the difference between a timely vector to the final approach course versus a very long vector around Nova Scotia. 

Let's be sure to do our jobs in the communications department.  Know those compulsory calls.

One of the best ways to improve your radio communication skills is to listen to live radio exchanges between ATC and aircraft aloft.  Click HERE and listen.

Given all of the weather risks, few keep us GA pilots grounded more than winds.  Unlike thunderstorms, low ceilings, poor visibility, hail, ice, and freezing rain, winds are nearly always with us. 

So what is the cautious pilot supposed to do?  We have three choices.

1. We can blast off and hope for the best.

2. We can close the hangar doors and remain safely on the ground.

3. We can learn and understand the aerodynamic forces placed on the aircraft by winds and safely launch using the correct control inputs.

Sadly, the accident data reveals that far too many of us select option #1.  We launch in the face of gusting crosswinds only to find ourselves drifting helplessly across the runway, taking a handful of runway lights with us.   Mashing the brakes in a vain attempt to re-gain control, we ground loop and bang a wing on the runway. 

We emerge from the cockpit unhurt but with a bent airplane and a seriously damaged ego.  Our mishap becomes the topic of endless hangar conversations for miles around.

Fearing option #1, an equally large number of us toss in the towel anytime the winds are blowing 15 knots or more across the runway.   A wise decision but this option substantially reduces the utility of our airplane.  It is also a great disappointment to passengers hoping to go someplace that particular day.

Choice #3 is the place to be!

Picture the following scenario.  You're visiting your wife's family 350 miles from your home airport.  Contrary to forecasts, the winds have kicked up a bit.  Nothing serious, but gusts are blowing 45 degrees across the runway at 14 knots with gusts to 18.  It's late afternoon and you definitely need to be back to work in the morning and your accompanying teens can't miss another day of school.

Answer:  You opt for choice #2, call the boss, then write a note to your kid's teachers.   The only happy person is your wife . . . she gets to spend another night with Mom and Dad.

Upon returning home three days later (it was slow moving front that caused the winds), you call your friendly CFI and begin the process of mastering crosswind operations!

"George . . . I've got to master crosswind landings and takeoffs.  Can you help me?"

George agrees, then you both begin waiting patiently for a windy day with gusty crosswinds.  When that day comes, you both drop what you are doing and rush out to the airport.  You pull out your airplane, pre-flight, then taxi over to the least favorable runway wind-wise.

With 18 knot direct crosswinds (and gusts up to 25 knots) from the left, you line up on the runway.  You roll your yoke or stick to the left stop, then you apply full power and begin your takeoff roll.  You rotate and begin an immediately bank into the wind. 

You apply enough opposite (right) rudder to maintain your track over the runway.  Once clear of any obstacles, you level the wings and apply the rudder inputs necessary to keep the inclinometer ball center (see graphic below).

Mastering crosswind takeoffs and landings requires proper instruction and lots of practice . . . lots and lots of practice.  Once accomplished, you will begin to maximize the utility of your airplane.

Flight students:  If your flight school or flight instructor refuses to fly when the surface winds approach 15 to 25 knots, do yourself a great big favor and find another source of instruction! 

Fuel prices can differ by as much as $2.50 a gallon in some areas.  Keep this in mind the next time you launch on a cross-trip.  The fine folks from AIRNAV do a wonderful job of tracking these fuel prices. 

To find the lowest fuel prices anywhere you are going, simply click HERE.  By the way, you can find this link through the "Preflight Planning" link in the banner section at the top of this page.

The previous OTA issue contained a brief story of a local chief flight instructor on a training flight who attempted to take off on a closed runway.  This story generated a host of reader responses describing similar dumb CFI moves.

Yep . . . log 15 hours as pilot in command and you, too, meet the minimum flight experience to become certificated flight instructor in the airplane of your choice.   Remember, of course, that part of your job description will be to impart the necessary aeronautical decision making (ADM) and risk management skills to insure the safety of pilots entrusted to your training!

Of course, you need to meet the PIC requirement for your private pilot certificates (10 hours) and the commercial certificate (250 hours).  But if you back out all of the dual training requirements required for your various ratings (instrument, multi, etc.), you could manage to qualify as a flight instructor with only a handful of actual solo hours!  And most of these solo hours were likely earned in some fair weather practice area near the airport.

So where does the lifesaving pilot wisdom come from?

Where is the wisdom?  Sadly, it is not there in many of our flight training establishments throughout the United States.  Flight schools routinely use last year's flight students as this year's flight instructors.  These folks want the flying hours and they work cheap.

Worse, many of these same fledgling pilot/instructors train up future flight instructors out of the same ranks of pilots who sat beside them in ground school.

This system of creating flight instructors has been with us since 1941.  So what's the problem?

A little over five years ago, this neophyte pilot would not have to concern himself about jet fighter intercept procedures.  He could fly pretty much anywhere his J-3 Cub could take him.

Yes, Virginia, the world has changed, but the flight training community has not.

What should we be doing?

It is a cinch that we cannot do much about changing the FARs governing the experience requirements to become a CFI.  But we can do something about our own training and the training being received by our friends.

There is one reason why students fail checkrides.  The answer is simple.  Whether it is at the private pilot level or pursuit of the the ATP, students fail checkrides because they are not prepared!  The reason they are not prepared is because of faulty or defective instruction.

Digging deeper into the problem of faulty or defective instruction, the ultimate source of the problem is the Practical Test Standards (PTS).  Actually, it is not the PTS but the manner in which the PTS is being used.

Learning versus Passing the Test!!!

Somewhere in the history of flight training the vast majority of CFIs succumbed to the notion that getting their students through knowledge (written) test, the oral exam, and the checkride were all that was required to teach them how to be a safe pilot.

This "teaching to the test" process is reinforced by the publishers of FAA knowledge test Q and As, free on-line practice test sites, and printed oral prep guides. 

Similarly, CFIs and the flight schools are notorious for drilling flight students to compliance with the minimum standards for each proficiency element contained in the PTS.  Endless hours are spent in the local practice area or, worse, in the simulator.   In turn, students expend enormous energy trying to memorize answers and procedures.

Enter the Discriminating Pilot Examiner!

It is time for the checkride.  The student's head is spinning with lots of factoids, details, and aviation trivia and very little experienced-based wisdom. 

A great crisis quickly surfaces as the nervous student confronts, for the very first time, a person who is less interested in PTS compliance and is more interested in what the student actually knows and is able to demonstrate.  "Can this guy fly from "A" to "B" without killing himself and others?"

This crisis escalates the moment the student recognizes that his or her level of actual aeronautical knowledge and skills are far below what the pilot examiner is looking for.  He tries in vain to spit out memorized answers to stock oral questions.  But just as soon as the examiner begins to probe deeper, the student suffers an instant brain fart.

The same thing happens during the practical test.  The examiner steps outside the comfortable boundaries of the PTS for a moment to assess the depths of the student's actual flying skills.  The examiner quickly discovers a hollow shell of inability.  The automaton skills imparted by his hapless CFI leave the student unprepared for even the most rudimentary non-PTS related exercise.

Meet Barry McCollom of Kerrville, Texas.  Barry is an instrument, commercially rated pilot with 3,000 hours of flying experience spread over 30 years.  Most of this flying has been in a Mooney.  He is president of Kerr County Flyers.

Barry's day job for the past 25 years is as a real estate agent.  He's been married for 30 years and has two children.

It was a blustery morning last Thanksgiving weekend.  A low time, VFR only pilot and two friends took off from Centennial Airport (APA), near Denver, Colorado in a Piper Cherokee.  Their destination was Morris, Illinois.
 

Low overcast clouds necessitated a hazardous scud-run.  Anybody familiar with this route of flight knows that the terrain is as flat as a pool table (first link in the accident chain).

According to the NTSB Report, the pilot held a private pilot certificate with a single-engine land rating issued on August 26, 2002. The pilot held a third-class medical certificate with no limitations dated May 3, 2005. The pilot recorded that he had accumulated 409 hours of total flight time and 33 hours of flight time 90 days in his logbook. The endorsement for his last flight review was dated January 8, 2005.

Witness statements:

The airplane fuselage was found about one tenth of a mile from the base of the antenna on a 101-degree magnetic heading. The wings had separated from the fuselage in a debris field that, measured from the antenna base, extended southward about three tenths of a mile on about a 171 degree heading.

The National Transportation Safety Board determines the probable cause(s) of this accident as follows:

This is a simple case of aeronautical decision making (ADM) gone wrong.  This pilot was embarking upon an over seven hour flight in marginal VFR to IFR conditions.  He apparently elected to scud run over unfamiliar territory.

This fatal scenario gets repeated week after week.  Believing that one can keep a constant vigilance in declining weather for long periods of time is a cruel and deceptive self-hoax. 

Solution

What should this pilot have done instead?  Right . . . he should have remained on the ground until the ceilings rose at least 500 feet above the minimum sector altitude depicted on his sectional.  In theory, this would enable him to maintain required cloud clearance and still have a margin of safety above the highest obstacle in the sectors he was crossing.

Remember, however, to check NOTAMs carefully.  Tall towers go up everyday. 

Given the affordability of terrain awareness technology (Garmin 296, 396, 496 portable GPS), all VFR pilots should make use of this safety resource.

A long term solution for this pilot would have been to secure his instrument rating and demonstrated instrument proficiency before commencing this long cross-country trip. 

VFR-only long cross-country trips, can be an invitation to disaster unless such pilots have the enroute discipline to get and remain on the ground until ideal VFR weather returns.

John Jesson, (photo middle), manager of the Akron, NY Airport (9G3), said 30 years ago, "Nobody believed this airport would ever survive!"

But it did, and much of the credit goes to the faith and efforts of John and his wife, Nancy (photo left).  They and their partners, Dave Gray (photo right), Larry Cummings, Liz Zaky, and a host of other volunteers turned this dilapidated, weed infested airstrip into one of New York State's premier general aviation airports.

Operating under the corporate title of Christian Airmen, Inc., these individuals, 30 years ago, set forth on a mission to show by example and through the grace of God how seemingly impossible obstacles can be overcome to create an airport masterpiece. 

Congratulations, John and Nancy.  You are, indeed, good and faithful servants! 

The first indication of a problem was noted when the airplane apparently failed to climb after touching down.  Witnesses saw the airplane roll along the entire length of the runway before becoming airborne.  Then, within seconds, other witnesses saw the airplane suddenly roll over near vertical before it crashed nose down not far from the runway.

Okay . . . another stall/spin accident (they happen every week in the U.S.)

Another classic stall/spin accident, right?  But wait . . .  let's take a look at the post-crash toxicology of both the flight instructor and the student.  Let's see what they found in the blood and tissues.

First the flight instructor:
 

Yep . . . good old marihuana!  They found enough of this stuff in the CFI's lungs, blood, and urine to register in the toxicology tests.  While it is unknown what effect this concentration of marihuana had on the CFI's performance, clearly the outcome of this routine flight exercise suggests that something abnormal was happening.

Next the flight student:
 

Hmmm . . . the NTSB Report tells us that these items are a sedating over-the-counter antihistamine and a prescription antidepressant.

While it would properly require an aeromedical pathologist with a PhD in psychopharmacological chemistry to assess the potential impact of these drugs on pilot performance, we might reasonably assume these guys were functioning somewhat less then "normal."  

There are no secrets

If we pilots ever decide to launch too soon after participating in a 1960's type pot party, or after a late night foray in the local saloon, or when battling an emotional problem with miracles of modern chemistry . . . and somebody dies, rest assured our little secret will be found out by the local toxicologist.

Quite naturally, crashes like this that occurred at Leesburg, results in bad press, negative public perception of GA, and higher insurance premiums.

If EVER we observe such behavior taking place, we pilots have a sacred obligation to take steps to prevent it from turning into a tragedy.  Whether it is alcohol on one's breath or knowledge that some hapless pilot is being medicated for emotional problems, stepping in boldly and preventing his flight could save a life as well as another black eye for general aviation.

Every primary student is taken out to the practice area and is taught to perform steep turns per the Private Pilot Practical Test Standards (PTS).   Students marvel at the difficulty of holding altitude as the airplane is rolled into a 45 degree bank angle.

The flight instructor explains that removal of 50 percent of the vertical component of lift explains why this altitude loss occurs.  The CFI also explains the airplane's natural tendency to roll beyond the stipulated 45 degree bank angle.  This reason is illustrated in the accompanying graphic (right).

What happens when the pilot is caught unawares?

Somatographic illusions are those sensations that "trick" our bodies into believing we are in one flight attitude when, in fact, we are in another.  Returning to level flight after a long, slow turn, for example, causes the fluid in the semi-circular canals of our inner ear to begin flowing in the opposition direction.  This, in turn, can give us a serious case of the "leans." 

In summary, traditional flight training doctrine suggests that the best way to handle a graveyard spiral scenario is not to allow one to develop - duh! 

Unfortunately, far too much of today's instrument training, including instrument proficiency checks, is being provided in GA flight simulators.  While sufficient to develop instrument procedure skills, stationary simulators fail to simulate any of the spatial disorientation factors that can lead to the fatal graveyard spiral.

Similarly, the use of view limiting devices to simulate real IFR conditions are equally unreliable.  The only effective way to experience the conditions leading to insidious IFR upsets including graveyard spirals is to get into REAL IFR conditions with a skilled and experienced CFII aboard.