Sunday,
November 5, 2006
Vol. III No. 22 |
Sunday,
November 5, 2006
Vol. III No. 22 |
Welcome
to the
Over the
Airwaves
aviation journal. This complimentary bi-weekly e-mailing
is being sent to pilots and aviation enthusiasts around the
world. Its aim
is to promote
flight safety, encourage students and new pilots, and to build
enthusiasm for aviation in general.
Dear Pilots and Aviation Enthusiasts:
Popularized by the book and movie depicting the qualifications of our early astronauts, the term "right stuff" also applies to us airplane types. Having the right stuff means breaking from the tried and true mold, the easy course, to following a course that leads to individual excellence and dramatic advancements in flight safety. Unfortunately, much of our world of general aviation is filled with the "wrong stuff." From wannabe airline pilots faking it as flight instructors to the flight schools that employ them, these are the keepers of the status quo. They range from part-time private pilots who have no time for recurrent training to the self-assured wealthy with more money than skills, brains, or judgment. These are the people who resist change, who defend the rules (even when the rules no longer apply to a given circumstance), and who accept our chronic fatal GA accident rate as a fair and reasonable cost of doing business. With the exception of GA aircraft and component manufacturers who are blazing new trails in airframe, power plant, and avionics, our world of general aviation is replete with vestiges of yesterday-thinking. These are the people who fly and teach the way they were taught. These are the legalists who spend more time espousing antiquated FARs than they do promoting effective aeronautical decision making (ADM). These are the people who are responsible for far too many airplane wrecks. Highest on the list of "wrong stuff" people are flight schools and flight instructors who, through their own pigmy thinking, are creating future generations of dangerous pilots. These are the folks who place passing the test and the acquisition of pilot ratings above the development of pro-active learning attitudes. These people teach the rules but forget the wisdom; they tell but do not show; they lecture but do not inspire. No wonder Johnny can't read! Are you part of the "wrong stuff" generation? It is easy to self-diagnose the "wrong stuff." These are GA pilots who do not have a carefully thought out plan for recurrent training. Instead, they remain minimally legal by doing the least training possible. These are the pilots who would rather close the hangar door than acquire the skills necessary to launch in stiff crosswinds. These are the pilots who seek out the least expensive training resources, irrespective of instructional skills. These are folks who are seldom seen at aviation safety meetings. In short, these are the people who populate the majority of NTSB accident reports.
Rallying around the peripheral threats to general aviation such as user fees, airport closures, air space protection, these organizations miss the fact that every GA crash (we average one fatal and five serious per day) exposes our fragile industry to very real threats from local, regional, and national law makers. Each such crash also reinforces the "I told you so" attitudes from thousands of wives and mothers standing in the way of their husbands' and childrens' desire to fly. Little wonder why our new pilot starts and total numbers have been declining precipitously (down 58% and 25% respectively since a 1979)! Become and support "Right Stuff" attitudes!
Transfer out of that watered-down flight school who keeps you land-bound when the winds kick up or when the ceiling goes down to 200 feet. Fire the CFI who pushes you into the GA simulator or classroom whenever the weather becomes challenging. Do not renew your memberships to GA associations who place member growth and selling t-shirts at Oshkosh above the promotion of member safety. Yes, we need numbers, but more importantly, we need to keep our numbers alive! Yep . . . we do have a lot of "wrong stuff" in GA that is standing in the way of meaningful reductions in our fatal accident rate. The only way we're going to rid our industry of this kind of behavior is to critically self-assess our own skills. Next, we should open our eyes and examine carefully how we spend our money. Support those organizations and associations who aggressively place GA flight safety above pandering to their membership. Pilot numbers or accident reduction . . . it's our choice Sure, we need to have large numbers of GA pilots to retain our political clout. But keep in mind that GA remains statistically 100 times riskier than the air carriers. Don't let the head-in-the-sand spin-meisters try to explain away this sad statistic. Our fatal accident rate has not declined for the past seven years. Our insurance rates are soaring, the general public innately fears us, and politicians are waiting behind closed doors to clip our wings. Think . . . VLJs (very light jets) are now rolling out. Wait 'till their affluent but aeronautically-challenged pilots hit the airways! As for new pilot recruitment, e.g., AOPA's "Project Pilot", we will never have enough new pilots to change the minds of the voting public who continue to believe that little airplanes are inherently dangerous. Instead, we need to fix our fatal accident problem. When we do that, those other issues threatening the future of general aviation will slowly drift away. Then and only then will our pilot numbers increase. Yep . . . we desperately need more of the "right stuff."
Performed properly, the circling approach can take 15 or 20 miles off of an otherwise bad weather arrival route to the airport. Performed poorly, it could be the last approach the instrument pilot ever flies. The FAA became so concerned about the number of botched circling approaches recently that they made them a required part of the instrument proficiency check (IPC). Curiously, many flight schools and other GA organizations opposed this measure. Makes you wonder! So what's the big deal about circling approaches?
Circling approaches are also used to substantially shorten the arrival to the destination airport. For example, let's say your destination airport is served by runway 10/28. It has published GPS approaches to either end of the runway. Winds favor landing on runway 28. You are approaching the airport from the west. Get the picture? You can either fly at least 10 miles beyond the airport to get in position for the GPS Runway 28 approach. Or you request the GPS Runway 10 approach, break out at or slightly below the traffic pattern altitude and circle to Runway 28. The latter option saves some 20 miles of flying! What about the risks?
Most circling minimums are at altitudes below the typical traffic pattern altitude (TPA). Operationally, by definition, they are performed in poor weather conditions (otherwise one would fly the approach visually and would simply enter the pattern and land). How much room do I have? The illustration to the left shows the size of the protected area around the airport for the circling approach. This provides more than ample room to maneuver to any desired runway on the airport surface. Circling approaches offer numerous advantages, but they are not without their challenges. Like all instrument maneuvers, they should be practiced often.
Here is the scenario. You are cruising along in the clag. It's dark and you are buried in solid IMC. The ride is turbulent. Your backseat passenger is feeling ill. You reach down and scramble for an airsick bag from your left side pocket. Finding it, you reach back and hand it to your sick passenger. Returning your attention to the gauges, you observe the indications shown below:
Got the picture? Sure, you're in a left turning spiral dive. In the brief couple of seconds it took to reach down and grab the airsick bag and turn to assist your backseat passenger, your airplane rolled from a straight and level flight attitude to a very dangerous spiral dive. Next question . . . . what do you do? Note that the airspeed is at redline. Any sudden stresses placed on the airframe could cause a structural failure. The safe outcome of this flight depends upon your next move! Level the wings??? If you retard the power and level the wings without doing anything else at the same time, the sudden lift created by your excessive airspeed could exceed the stress limitations of your airplane and cause the wings to separate from the airframe! Remember, lift exerts a force perpendicular to the wings. In a spiral dive, lift pulls the airplane into an ever tightening turn without exerting excessive "G" forces on the wing. By leveling the wings, the lift created by the excessive airspeed exerts an enormous upward force which must be reduced or eliminated to prevent a structural failure. So what do we do? Yep . . . retard the throttle, level the wings AND PUSH FORWARD on the yoke or stick!!!! It is the pushing forward part that will ultimately save the day. By pushing forward, you instantly "unload" the wings. By doing this, you remove the added lift created by the excessive airspeed and thus preserve the structural integrity of the airplane. Keep in mind that you will be fighting enormous yoke or stick pressures to achieve this reduction or elimination of lift caused by redline speeds. The next step is to slowly relax your forward yoke pressure to allow the airplane to climb. This, in turn, will cause the airspeed to diminish and thereby return your airplane to controlled flight. Sobering thoughts ! The instrument picture shown above is typically the last thing the disoriented, out-of-control non-proficient instrument pilot sees before hitting the ground. The "graveyard spiral" is an insidious flight condition that nearly always results from a loss of control scenario while in the clouds. Find a qualified instructor and climb up to a safe altitude in VFR conditions. Roll your airplane into a slow, spiral descent. Get a feel for what is happening aerodynamically. Look at the instrument indications. Feel the "G" forces as you roll wings level. Practice recoveries that produce little or no positive "Gs". The skills you develop through this exercise might save your life someday.
Okay, maybe some of us have actually taken off a few pounds overweight. Tell the truth . . . maybe just a couple. So what's the big deal? Given enough runway and the absence of obstacles, a couple of extra pounds won't make any difference, right? Hmmm . . . . You could be right . . . or wrong! It has long been rumored that aircraft manufacturers build in a little fudge factor when they prepare the performance and weight and balance numbers, particularly in newer models . . . especially when the company lawyers get involved. Under certain circumstances, the FAA actually permits overweight operations, e.g., emergency evacuations. Yep . . . overweight takeoffs happen and people survive. But they don't always survive . . .
Apparently skipping the weight and balance portion of his pre-flight preparation, the CFI ordered a fuel top-off just before departing the Linden, NJ Airport. Had he run the numbers, he would have discovered that this would put his flight 138 pounds over the 2550 pound maximum take-off weight per the POH. Normal Take-off and cruise The flight lifted off without incident. Their planned route of flight took them below the Class B shelf, across the New York City harbor to Coney Island on the Brooklyn shoreline. The weather was pure VFR. Radar data showed the airplane at an altitude of approximately 500 feet msl operating below the class "B" airspace veil surrounding John F. Kennedy International Airport at an average ground speed of 108 knots. The target disappeared from radar at 300 feet and a ground speed of 60 knots. The Crash Approximately 42 witnesses interviewed reported that the airplane was maneuvering at low altitude along the beachfront at Coney Island. They agreed that the airplane banked to the left, descended in a nose down attitude, and impacted the ground. The main wreckage came to rest on
a beach approximately 150 feet south of the Coney
Island boardwalk. The wreckage was contained
at the point of impact, and created a crater
approximately 4 feet wide by 6 feet long. The depth
of the crater varied between 6 to 18 inches with
multiple small depressions.
According to the manufacturer's information manual for the airplane, at the maximum certificated takeoff weight, an altitude loss during a stall recovery could be as much as 230 feet. The published stall speeds for the airplane ranged from 40 knots at 0 degrees of bank to 57 knots at 60 degrees of bank. Sure . . . the guy allowed himself to get himself low and slow while in a turn. The fact that he was overweight took him out of the POH numbers and into the test pilot category. The airplane stalled and yawed (according to numerous witness statements). With less than 500 feet below him, there was insufficient time to recover. Standing before the judge What kind of position does the flight school who employed this CFI hold when standing before the judge in civil court? Can it offer up any reasonable defense? Think about this the next time YOU launch a few pounds or more overweight! Think about the outcome should something, unrelated to the overweight condition, goes wrong with the airplane. It could become a very expensive lesson!
 Over
the Airwaves
has apparently touched a nerve among the general
aviation community. Readers have been
forwarding
OTA
to friends and colleagues right around the world.
Comments coming back have been overwhelmingly
supportive and our reader numbers are literally
exploding.
We are making a difference and people are listening. We need to take maximum advantage of this impact by continuing to forward Over the Airwaves to our pilot friends. Encourage them to sign on for a free subscription. Thanks to the magic of geometric expansion, if each reader would continue adding at least one additional pilot to our readership, we could reach the entire GA pilot population in months rather than years! When this happens, GA pilots will take heightened personal responsibility for their own self-development. When this happens, watch our fatal accident rate tumble. Watch our insurance rates decline. Watch the general public change its attitude toward "little airplanes." This is not a dream. It's a movement! Do it today. Spread the word. Sign up today by clicking HERE. It's free and it's powerful!
We do this through stimulating classroom discussions on all aspects of aviation and field trips to places like the Buffalo Airport control tower and radar room and the Niagara Aerospace Museum. We put together this course two years ago and the response has been tremendous. I volunteer my time as the instructor, the Akron School District provides all of the logistical support, and a $99 per student fee covers the textbook, 30 minutes actual piloting time, and field trip expenses. Model program for other local airports to follow . . . Can you imagine the impact on general aviation if each of our over 5,000 public use airports throughout the United States reached out to their nearest local high school and conducted the same program? The local impact could be enormous. From a public relations perspective, the local airport wins points throughout the community by showing its commitment to area youth. Economically, programs like this introduce future aviation customers to the local airport. Most importantly, this program creates excitement for aviation. They also serve as incubators for tomorrow's pilots. It is a win, win, win all around! Do something today to replicate this program! March right out to your local airport. Find a community-spirited flight instructor who is willing to contribute a few hours each week to introducing aviation to the young people of your community. Encourage your airport's leadership to meet with local school officials to introduce "Adventures in Aviation" to their high school curriculum. You never know . . . the rewards can be spectacular all around!
Reading between the lines, could this practice be based upon some factory premise that their autopilots are more reliable than the average new aircraft purchaser? An unfortunate run of fatal Cirrus accidents over the past several weeks could be their geese coming home to roost. In short, we cannot engineer flight safety by encouraging less than proficient pilots to place their fate in the hands of electronic substitutes for basic flying skills. Likely crash scenario Scenario: Tom, Mary, and their two kids are motoring along in VFR conditions at 12,000' in their brand new high performance, glass composite aircraft. Approaching their destination, ATC clears them down to 8,000'. Tom presses the autopilot altitude pre-select button, dials in 8,000', then he sets in a 500' per minute descent rate. Now in the clouds, the airplane levels off and continues to motor on in level flight as if by magic! It's now getting dark and Tom doesn't notice the ridge of ice building up on the white leading edge of his airplane. As additional ice accretes insidiously on the airframe, Tom's autopilot makes the necessary control surface corrections to maintain level flight. Tom notices that his airspeed is slowing due to the additional weight and drag from the airframe ice. Tom advances to full power. Meanwhile, Tom's autopilot continues to crank in up trim to maintain altitude. Ice continues to build unevenly on Tom's wings thereby causing the airplane to bank. His remarkable autopilot, again, makes the necessary heading corrections. Tom is unaware of the enormous demands being placed on his autopilot. Tom's airspeed is now down to 65 knots! The autopilot is holding his airplane in a nose high pitch attitude and continues struggling to hold his unbalanced wings level. The autopilot suddenly quits! Electronically sensing its own inability to maintain the ice-laden airplane in level flight, the autopilot suddenly disconnects. Tom feels the nose and left wing drop. He yanks back on the stick in a vain attempt to maintain altitude. Tom's actions produce a deeply yawed, banking stall. One wing suddenly falls out from under him as the airplane enters a spin in IMC conditions. Tom panics as his wife and children begin screaming. He makes no sense out of the rapidly rotating heading indicator on his glass panel. The altitude tape is racing downward. Things happened so fast that he forgot about the ballistic recovery chute (if he had one on his airplane). Another unprepared pilot dies with his family onboard. So what happened? Tom had no clue of the Herculean efforts his autopilot was going through to control his ice-laden airplane. When the autopilot finally gave up and disconnected itself, Tom was left with a handful of airplane that he was not equipped skill-wise to handle. Perhaps it is time for aircraft factories to re-think their practice of encouraging new customer dependence upon the autopilot. Instead, customers should be required to demonstrate stick and rudder mastery of the airplane BEFORE they leave the factory.
If your aircraft is autopilot equipped, turn it off! Then, use it only sparingly. Learn to trim your airplane for hands-off flight. A properly rigged airplane is easily capable of maintaining heading and altitude with only slight toe pressures and minor power adjustments. If you cannot achieve
this, either get your airplane properly rigged OR spend some
time learning how to trim your airplane.
Meet Ron Levine of Baltimore, MD. Ron, pictured
left, is the proud new owner of a Cirrus SR22.
This photo was taken this past month by Ron's cousin,
Mark Weissman, MD (and Bo owner) at the Buffalo/Niagara
Airport enroute from the factory to home.
Like all new Cirrus purchasers, Ron completed several days of factory flight and ground training. Having been a former Cessna 210 owner, Ron found the transition to the Cirrus to be nearly effortless. Ron and his
brother
own three Ethan Allen Galleries located in Baltimore
Maryland. He plans to use his new airplane on
frequent visits to the Ethan Allen corporate
headquarters in Bristol, Connecticut.
There is no getting around the fact that ducking below the glideslope on the ILS when weather is at minimums is about the most hazardous thing we can do in an airplane. The margin of error, particularly when approaching the decision height, is slim to none. Unfortunately, this margin gets tested far too frequently by less-than-proficient instrument pilots. Sadly, the outcome is nearly always fatal.
Such was the case on a murky evening in March, 2005 at the Charleston Executive Airport in South Carolina. The pilot of a Cessna 206H had been cleared for the ILS Runway 9 approach. The reported weather was 1/4 mile visibility with a 100 foot overcast ceiling. The published weather minimums for the ILS Runway 9 are 267 feet with 3/4 mile visibility.
See the first link in the accident chain??? Unlike Part 121 and 135 operators, pilots operating under Part 91 are "legally" permitted to commence an instrument approach even when the reported weather is below the published minimums for the approach. The pilot apparently used this permissive regulation as justification to venture forth on the approach even though the reported weather was well below the published minimums for this approach. The rest of this sad story The pilot was issued radar vectors for the approach. The controller cleared the flight for the final approach and terminated radar services. The flight passed abeam intersection JOBOP (see approach plate above) at 1,600 feet flying at a ground speed of 83 knots. T he last radar return showed the airplane inbound from the final approach fix, 0.19 nautical miles from runway 9, at 200 feet above the ground, and with a ground speed of 70 knots.What the witness saw
A witness at the airport said that he heard an
engine noise in the distance but could not see an airplane due
to fog. He said he heard what sounded like a rapid engine power
increase. He said the engine sound ceased after a thud was
heard. There was another thud and the airplane ignited in
flames. The pilot and his passenger were killed in the crash. According to FAA records, the pilot had a total of 1,720 total hours and 983 hours in this make and model. So what really happened? Post crash investigators concluded that the aircraft was operating normally. The ILS approach to Runway 9 was flight checked by the FAA and was found to be okay. So what happened? We can only surmise the actual circumstances of this tragic flight, but one thing is certain . . . the guy descended well below the glideslope prior to reaching the DH (decision height). This would have produced a full scale deflection of the glideslope needle. According to witness statements, the pilot applied a burst of power immediately prior to impact, apparently in an attempt to get back on the glideslope. It was too late. Any full scale deflection of either the glideslope or localizer needle inside the FAF (final approach fix) requires the execution of a missed approach. Had our man done this, he would be with us today. Never, ever, never, never, ever descend below the glideslope ! Again, the crash investigation revealed that the pilot was having difficulty tracking both the localizer (crashed 866 feet left of course). It was also having difficulty tracking the glideslope, which was his ultimate undoing. The safe and prudent
thing to do when inbound on the ILS is to remain at or slightly
above the glideslope all of the way down the final approach
course. If you arrive at the runway end slightly high, you
can always fly the missed approach procedure and come around and
try it again.
As you view this video (requires a high speed internet connection), imagine shooting this approach in solid IMC! http://www.naverus.com/documents/NAVERUS_WMP.wmv Thanks to avid Over the Airwaves reader, Thom Riddle of Buffalo, NY, for sharing this link with us.
In-flight icing remains the single greatest risk of wintertime flying. It is also one of the least understood of all flight risks. Unlike summer thunderstorms that typically have recognizable shape and form which makes them easy to see and avoid, icing exists where you find it. Last week, for example, my 16 year old daughter and I flew my T-210 (with known ice certification) from Buffalo, NY to the Westchester/White Plains Airport near New York City for a series of college interviews. The freezing level was 2,000' AGL, cloud tops were reported to be 12,000'. I filed for 9,000' for this quick 1.5 hour trip. My initial climb was ice free. I motored along at 9,000' in solid IMC for about 45 minutes, still reporting negative ice. Then wham! About one-half way along my route of flight, over Binghamton, NY, ice began to form quickly on the wings. I immediately requested and received a clearance up to 13,000'. Within seconds I noticed a 15 knot reduction in indicated airspeed as the ice-induced drag immediately took its toll on the otherwise clean airframe. Three-quarter inch of mixed clear/rime ice coated the leading edge of the wings and airframe in the less than two minutes it took me to reach clear air above. I cycled the boots, pulled my camera from my flight bag, then snapped the below photo in the midst of this boot cycle. Note the less than uniform shedding of ice.
Winter flying requires choices! This experience again illustrates the insidious nature of in-flight icing. Straight and level flight for 45 minutes in the sub-freezing clouds produced no ice. Then it hit, thus proving that icing is where you find it!
Operating a known ice certified airplane simplified my choices. I could legally penetrate sub-freezing clouds. Remember, however, safe and legal are two different things. As you can see from the above photo, the de-icing features on my airplane (inflatable wing boots, hot prop, hot windshield, super-heated pitot tube and heated stall indicator) do not guarantee an ice-free ride. By the way, does TKS (weeping wing) offer a better solution to in-flight icing? Don't count on it. I've experienced both an in-operative TKS pump system, plugged laser-drilled oozing holes, as well as de-icing fluid exhaustion in icing conditions! Remember, too, that TKS or the E-Vade hot-wing system do NOT, by themselves, make it legal to operate non-known ice certified airplanes in icing conditions. They simply afford us more minutes to escape the icing conditions. Clearly, my required backdoors required something other than installed de-icing gear. Instead . . . I needed nature's backdoors. Those were either nearby and reachable VFR conditions or above-freezing air. With reported cloud tops just a few thousand feet above, my backdoor was a climb to VFR conditions above. Having a turbo-charged engine made any climb all the way up to 24,000' doable . . . thereby satisfying the backdoor needs of this particular flight with ease. Legality vs. reality
The reality problem arises for the IFR pilot already in flight. She may have launched into IMC conditions and was promised above freezing temperatures along her entire route of flight. Guess what? The forecaster lied! Any possible number of often unpredictable meteorological events could have caused a sudden temperature drop. Ice begins to form on the airplane. The pilot, untrained in winter weather operations, begins to panic. It is IMC all the way to the ground. The tops are out of the ceiling range of her airplane. Does she turn right or left, climb or descent . . . or does she wait for the accumulation to stop? Throw out the FARs and all of the legal arguments and fly the airplane! She is now in the real world. Her airspeed is beginning to drop. She begins to feel a slight buffet as her airplane labors to carry the jagged ice load. What does she do? She has already made her first mistake by waiting to think about her choices. Each second she remains in icing conditions, her situation worsens. The first thing she should have done was call ATC and announce her immediate intentions to climb, then add full climb power (read why, below). Her immediate next concern is to maintain adequate airspeed in the climb at some number at or above Vy (best rate of climb). Here comes risk management assessment She is now in the midst of a full-fledged risk management scenario. Going up provides her with more options than descending. If her choice to go up proves wrong, she can always descend. Gravity will take care of that! The same cannot be said about descending. If the descending choice proves wrong, going up may no longer be an option due to excessive airframe icing. If climbing does not work due to degraded aircraft performance, a descent is the only remaining choice. While a lateral move to hopeful VFR conditions may be tempting, time will likely be working against her. The best option remains a change in altitude. Last option . . . If going up or down are no longer options, squawk 7700 and head for the nearest airport with an instrument approach. Obviously, coordination with ATC is required, BUT if you cannot reach ATC due to ice-damaged antenna, go there anyway and commence the approach. Icing emergencies
kill. The key is to NOT delay. Make your escape
moves quickly.
To be motoring around in wintertime clouds without knowing the minimum vectoring altitude (MVA) along your route of flight is like walking into a crowded movie theater without knowing where the exits are. Not only is it dumb, it could cost you your life. The MVA is the lowest that ATC can vector you in any given area. The MVA is almost always lower than the minimum enroute altitude (MEA) or minimum obstruction clearance altitude (MOCA) along any given airway. It is also lower than the off-route obstruction clearance altitude (OROCA). The minimum vectoring altitude in each sector provides 1,000 feet above the highest obstacle in nonmountainous areas and 2,000 feet above the highest obstacle in designated mountainous areas. The minimum vectoring altitude will provide at least 300 feet above the floor of controlled airspace. Each MVA sector boundary is at least 3 miles from the obstruction determining the altitude of the MVA. To avoid a large sector with an excessively high MVA due to an isolated prominent obstruction, the obstruction may be enclosed in a buffer area whose boundaries are at least 3 miles from the obstruction.
Why do we need to know the MVA? You are motoring along and beginning to pick up ice. You can evade the ice by either going up or down. Let's say that up is not feasible. The cloud tops are higher than the performance capability of your airplane. So you elect to descend. How low can you go? How low can ATC take you? The answer is found in the MVA table. This altitude is based upon the height of any obstructions in any given area of land below you. With any luck, the MVA in your area allows you to descend either into above freezing or clear air below. One of the biggest mysteries of modern aviation is, why doesn't the National Aviation Charting Office (NACO) print and disseminate MVA charts? They are simply not available outside the ATC world.
Few will argue that airframe icing is a nasty scenario for large and small aircraft alike. Icing not only adds weight and drag to the aircraft, it also changes the shape of the airfoil, thus turning a carefully designed airplane into an untested experimental flying machine.
As shown in the illustration below, the accumulation of ice behind the leading edge of the wing pushed the center of lift aft, over the aileron. The resultant low pressure literally "sucked" the aileron upward, thereby causing an uncommanded roll.
The insidious part of icing is that it alters the shape of the wing in an unpredictable fashion. One of the most catastrophic manifestations of this occurs with tailplane icing. Here, the horizontal stabilizer or stabilator accretes ice on its bottom (downward) lifting surface. Then, without warning, the stabilizer or stabilator suddenly stops exerting its downward lift. This causes the nose to aggressively pitch downward. When low and slow on the approach, the consequences are nearly always fatal. Remember, this too can happen with airplanes equipped with de-icing or anti-icing equipment including airplane certified for flight into known ice. The message is short and simple. When accreting ice, exit immediately. Knowing which way to go is a matter for you and your flight instructor to discuss!
If ever there was any question as to how the FAA defines "known ice," the above quote settles it. Known ice exists anywhere that the outside temperature (OAT) is near or below freezing and there is visible moisture, e.g., clouds, fog, or haze. It matters NOT that icing conditions were neither forecast or reported. It also matters NOT that the OAT is below -24d C. where it is too cold for airframe icing to occur. Absurd . . . absolutely! The FAA, through this absurdly narrow interpretation of known icing, has just condemned over 90 percent of the single engine piston GA fleet to VFR only flight during the winter months for the northern half of the United States. It matters not that these airplanes are equipped with pneumatic wing boots, TKS "weeping wing" system, or the new E-Vade hot wing system. You have to wonder if the legal eagles who make up these definitions for the FAA have ever piloted an airplane?
Curiously, one has to wonder about J-3 Cubs that makes no mention of ice in its rudimentary AFM? Are they prohibited from flight into known ice? This information came to light in response to a letter I recently sent to the FAA Office of Regional Counsel wherein I requested their official definition of "known ice." See IFR Magazine, November, 2006 issue for my more complete explanation of this request for an official determination. From the ridiculous to the sublime The essence of this absurdity is found in the FAA's reference to "visible moisture." Obviously clouds are visible moisture. Curiously, so is visibility restricting haze. Thus, launching anytime the reported visibility is less than unlimited (<6 miles) and the temperature is below 32d. F. puts you in violation of the "known ice" rule.
Let's add a complicating factor to this scenario. This happens to be your instrument checkride and the designated pilot examiner (DPE) is sitting by your side. Do you punch through that thin cloud layer? Changing this scenario just a bit, let's say that there is no cloud layer, but the reported visibility at the airport is less than three miles. The OAT is below freezing. This puts you squarely in the midst of sub-freezing visible moisture (haze). What do you do? Legally, you are boxed in! You cannot go there. So, as a law abiding pilot, you stretch your fuel reserves to find unquestionably clear haze free air to descend through. Let's hope you find some before you run out of gas. Fortunately, some reason still exists within the FAA ! ! Like the "don't ask, don't tell" policy regarding gays in the military during the Clinton Administration, the enforcement side of the FAA appears to have a more enlightened view on the matter of "known ice." In short, it's all up to the PIC. If he or she chooses to penetrate sub-freezing visible moisture in a non-known ice certified airplane, the blanket of responsibility falls squarely upon his or her lap. If he picks up a load of ice and successfully sheds it without causing a major interruption of the national airspace system, no problem. On the other hand, if he has to declare an emergency, causes a major re-routing of surrounding traffic as a result, or if he is forced to land in a farmer's field, he'd better have a good aviation attorney (if he survives). Legalists . . . go home!
Note - such action isn't legal. Instead, it's sort of a "don't ask, don't tell." This is a heck of a way to run the national airspace system!!!!! On the other hand, even though the FARs are permissive in a given circumstance, such as in the case of zero-zero instrument take-offs under Part 91, a pilot can operate without breaking the rules but still be found guilty of careless and reckless operations (FAR 91.13) if he prangs the airplane in the process. As for the icing scenario above with a DPE sitting beside you, go for it. Descend down through the thin clouds while explaining to the DPE the numerous "backdoors" available to you should icing be encountered. If your DPE is anything like the good DPEs here in Western New York, he won't even notice!
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The "wrong stuff" includes
some of our GA
organizations who place pleasing their membership above
the promotion and development of new approaches to
flight safety. In vigorously opposing any
training or safety requirement that potentially places a
"burden" on their membership, these organizations
appear naive to the fact that they are helping to
sustain our fatal accident rate. 
If general aviation is to grow and
thrive, we need to become "right stuff"
pilots. This means aggressively pursuing
meaningful recurrent training. Sign up for an
unusual attitude or aerobatics course. Master
crosswind landings; learn to confidently shoot
instrument approaches to minimums in ACTUAL
conditions. 
Of
all the maneuvers in the proficient instrument
pilot's bag of tricks, the circling approach offers
the greatest advantage and the greatest risk.
Circling
approaches are initiated for a number of different
reasons. The most common reason occurs when
the final approach course is aligned more than 30
degrees off the runway center line (15 degrees for
GPS approaches).
Any
low and slow maneuvering over the ground is risky.
Add low ceilings and poor visibilities, the risks go
up markedly. Throw in night operations and the
risks ratchet up to near dangerous levels!
Take
a look at what happened back in May, 2005 when a
flight instructor took three passengers on a
promotional "Discovery Flight" in a 2001 Cessna
172S. 
If you want to know where the future of aviation is, look
at the photo (left)! This is the "Adventures in
Aviation" class at the Akron, NY high school.
This class meets every Wednesday afternoon during the school
year. It's objective is simply to "excite and engage"
young people in aviation. 
If
you purchased a new Cessna, Cirrus, or Columbia recently, it is
likely that the factory flight instructor suggested that you
turn on the autopilot shortly after take-off and leave it on
until short final prior to landing. 
Tip
. . .
Getting
his ticket punched
Okay
all of you weather-beaten veterans of instrument flight,
especially you airliner types who enjoy an occasional challenge,
click on the web link below to view a 95 mile long instrument
approach into a 9,000 foot high airport in Tibet. It is
purported to be the world's most challenge instrument approach!
Prior
to departure earlier that morning, I had two choices. Obviously, the first was to
remain on the ground unless I could remain VFR throughout the
planned flight. The other choice was to launch into the
cold clouds, while maintaining instant access to readily
accessible backdoors. I chose the latter.
Sitting
on the ground and deciding whether or not to launch into
sub-freezing clouds is a no-brainer from a legal standpoint.
Don't do it (unless you are in a known-ice certified airplane -
even then, think carefully before launching).
This
was brutally proven in 1994 over Roselawn, Indiana. An
American Eagle ATR-72 carrying 68 people had been holding for 32
minutes in known icing conditions. A ridge of ice accumulated
beyond the aircraft's deicing boots. This accumulation of
ice aft of the boots ultimately produced uncommanded aileron
deflection. 
If
the airplane is prohibited by placard or by its Airplane
Flight Manual (AFM or POH) from flight into known ice
conditions, any penetration of haze, clouds, or fog with
OATs at or below 32d. F. is a violation of FAR 91.9 aircraft
certification requirements. 
Imagine
flying your non-known ice certified airplane on an IFR plan
in sub-freezing VFR conditions. It's clear and a
million miles visibility (no visible moisture). As you
descend to your destination airport, you observe a thin
layer of wispy, semi-transparent cirrus clouds overlaying
your airport. The ground is clearly visible through
this cloud layer.
The
FARs can only go so far in defining the many hazards to
aviation. In the end, it all comes down to PIC
judgment. If, through training and experience, the PIC
can see his or her way safely through a potentially
hazardous icing situation AND his actions cannot reasonably
be construed as "careless and reckless," he or she can
proceed without fear of sanctions.
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