March, 2008 Vol. V, No.
3 |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Welcome
to the
Over the
Airwaves
aviation journal. This complimentary e-publication
is prepared monthly for 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.
The Passing Grade Somewhere in the history of academia it was decided that if a student comprehended at least 65 or 70 percent of the course content, he or she would be considered to have "passed" the course. It did not necessarily mean that he had command of the content or that he fully understood the subject matter. Today, our nation's Ivy League colleges and universities scoff at the notion of admitting into their institutions high school students who merely "passed" their courses. Instead, you need to be in the top 10 percent of your high school graduating class to be considered competitive. Heck, even state-sponsored universities and most smaller private colleges look for at least an 80 to 85 average, if not better, from their incoming freshmen. The aviation paradox! Curiously, aviation works a bit differently. There are no incentives for achieving anything other than a passing grade on FAA administered knowledge tests. Designated Pilot Examiners (DPEs) do not issue special honors to pilot candidates who perform better than the minimum required by the Practical Test Standards (PTS). Flight schools and the CFIs who work from them have no incentive other than to get their students through the check ride. They passed! That's what counts. Even pilots preparing for professional flying careers do not need to achieve anything other than a "passing" grade on their various ratings. Airline and corporate pilot applications ask only for pilot ratings achieved and number of logbook hours. Aside from personal information and some reference to formal education, airline and corporate flight departments care little how well you performed during your flight training. The bar was set low . . . and it hasn't moved in 65 years! We have to look back about 65 years to find when the standard for "passing" pilot performance was established. It was shortly after America's entry into WWII when pilot training became formalized. FDR called for hundreds of thousands of war planes to be manufactured while the Army and its affiliated civilian contractors were tasked with the job of producing pilots to fly them. Thus was born the notion of pilot training and proficiency standards. Many of these very same standards are still with us today, despite faster and far more complex aircraft, all of which are operating in a far more sophisticated national airspace system. That's right, many of the pilot proficiency standards have not changed in 65 years. Even today's 40 hour rule for the private pilot certificate had its origins in the 1940s when we learned to fly in J-3 Cubs. Don't move the bar! Unlike our nation's colleges and universities who continually strive for ever-increasing academic performance, we in the aviation community lobby hard for the perpetuation of mediocrity. Our large membership organizations, backed up by hundreds of thousands of dues-paying members, steadfastly resist the notion of raising the bar. Like the fight against user fees, they take the position that if ONE increased standard is allowed, then others will follow. Where will it stop, they ask? We individual pilots buy into this faulty logic. Rather than promoting or even supporting tougher standards of pilot performance, we vote with our membership dues to keep the bar at a comfortable level. Keep in mind that we're talking about preserving a 65 year old standard! The proof is in the pudding . . . Opponents of raising the bar argue that voluntary compliance with an imaginary higher standard of pilot performance is a better way to go. They insist that we pilots are self-motivated to achieve a level of proficiency that will keep us all safe aloft. There's only one problem. They're wrong. Dead wrong! Of the slightly less than 600,000 U.S. licensed pilots, current estimates are that less than 15,000 ever attend an FAA or AOPA safety seminar. What about the other one-half million pilots? AOPA opines, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink!" Well, that little nugget of wisdom doesn't cut it when it comes to addressing the fact that our dismal GA fatal accident rate has been flat-lined for the past seven years. Just how bad is it? Let's look at the facts. Over 65 years of conditioning have created an entire generation of pilots who, for the most part, believe that achieving a "passing" score in anything related to aviation is acceptable performance. The sad and very sobering truth is that many of these pilots were at the top of their airmanship game the day they squeaked through their last FAA knowledge test and check ride. From that day forward, their airmanship knowledge and skills began to deteriorate! Truth be told, could YOU pass today the FAA knowledge test and check ride for the highest pilot rating you hold? Could I? I wonder! Thus, if 70 percent is a passing score and we lose a significant portion of what we knew on check ride day, what does that say about our current level of our knowledge and proficiency as pilots? Pretty scary, huh! Our fatal accident rate confirms this sad truth. We manage to wreck about 1,500 GA airplanes a year or about 5 per day. On average, we suffer 1 fatal wreck a day. Our fatal accident rate is 100 times worse than the airlines. The risk of flying a GA airplane is roughly the same as riding a motorcycle. This is a very sad commentary on the relative safety of general aviation flight. Solution, you ask? Raise the bar! Is there a solution? You bet, but it won't be popular with AOPA and many of its dues paying members. We need to raise the bar for passing the various rating knowledge and practical tests. Here is what we should be requiring.
Sure, these tightened standards will produce an increased burden on some pilots. Such burden, however, is the price of improved flight safety. Don't worry . . . . raising the bar will never happen! While logic might suggest that raising the bar will improve pilot proficiency, there are strong forces in the GA community that insist that the efficacy of any proposed change in the standard must first be proven. Like union leadership, they argue against any rule change that places a burden on their membership. And, like weak management, the FAA yields and the status quo is, again, protected. So, we'll continue on, business as usual. We'll memorize some answers, barely pass the tests, bumble through the check rides, and fly off, oblivious to fact that we really haven't achieved any degree of proficiency or mastery of the subject. The majority of us will manage to get by without hurting ourselves or others. But there will always be those at or near the bottom of the class who will pay the ultimate price for receiving a passing grade.
Bob
Miller, ATP, CFII
Winter Thunderstorms . . . they happen!
All it takes is a bit of warm air, lots of moisture, and an unstable atmosphere and we have the ingredients for a thunderstorm. Commonly associated with summertime weather, thunderstorms can ignite anytime throughout the year. When they do occur, the hapless pilot can be taken by surprise! Take a look at the following Terminal Airdrome Forecast (TAF) for the Buffalo/Niagara International Airport (KBUF) issued on February 6, 2008 at 7:14pm. Note particularly the second line.
KBUF
062320Z 070024 06014KT 3SM -FZRAPL BR
FEW008 OVC013 -TSRASNPL . . . that translates to light rain, thunderstorms, and snow pellets. There was enough weather to shut down the airport for an hour or so just to clean up the mess.
This weather-maker produced a cauldron of atmospheric instability that coated vehicles and roadways with a 1/2 inch of ice while thunderstorms lit up the evening sky. No reasonably sane GA pilot would contemplate launching in this mess. It does illustrate, however, how weather factors can coalesce to produce thunderstorms in the dead of winter!
The Concorde Remembered
On October 24, 2003, the Concorde, arguably
the most beautifully designed airliner ever constructed,
took off from New York's JFK Airport on her last flight back
across the Atlantic. Signaling the end of a wonderful experiment
to see if the traveling public would pay the price for
supersonic jet transport, the Concorde had run its course. Saddest among its fans were the New York
Center and TRACON controllers who worked these beautiful
aircraft. Click
here
to listen to the actual controller/cockpit exchanges
as the last of the Concordes departed the NY airspace. Thanks to OTA reader, Mark Croce of Buffalo,
NY for sharing this with us. The Rule Book and Personal Minimums . . . Hogwash! When searching for answers to why we continue to experience over 300 fatal GA accidents year and year, we often need to look no further than faulty flight instruction that instills an iron-clad belief in the sanctity of the FARs. Right or wrong, many flight schools and independent CFIs strip their students of any independent thought and, in its place, hold out the FAR/AIM as the holy grail on ALL matters pertaining to flight. Similarly, an equal number of flight schools and CFIs insist that their students establish a set of personal weather minimums to safe-guard themselves from getting into situations they cannot handle. What's wrong with this? So what's wrong with teaching the FARs and the importance of setting personal minimums? Under normal circumstances, nothing. But much of our flying can be anything but normal . . . particularly if we want to obtain any reasonable utility from our airplanes.
The first half of this flight was splendid. A 70 knot tailwind in sunny skies at 19,000 feet boosted my ground speed to just over 260 knots. It was the second half of the trip that produced a bit of nail biting. My preflight briefing revealed the presence of a massive weather system from the Gulf of Mexico to Canada being pushed along by a slow moving cold front. It covered the entire eastern one-third of the nation. While clear above 15,000 feet, below was a cauldron of mixed snow and rain, reports of icing, and turbulence. AIRMETs Sierra, Tango, and Zulu were all in effect. Forecast weather at my destination called for a 900 foot overcast ceiling and 2 miles of visibility due to blowing snow. Typical Buffalo stuff. My planned trip squared with all applicable FARs and I was okay with the forecast weather in Buffalo. I launched knowing that the only challenging part of the trip would be the final descent into Buffalo. Then the normal stuff ended! It was about two-thirds into my flight, over Charleston, WV where I decided to check the operation of my de-icing wing boots in preparation for the descent. The boots went part way through the normal cycle, then stopped inflating. I glanced quickly at the vacuum pressure gauge and noted that the primary vacuum pump had just failed, leaving me with only a smaller secondary pump to keep the gyro instruments operating. I was in clear skies with the stars and moon twinkling brightly over the solid undercast just below at 15,000 feet. The failed pump was significant but it certainly did not rise to an emergency declaration status. Aeronautical decision making time . . . Frequent OTA readers know that I insist on having solid gold backdoors anytime I fly. Suddenly, several of my backdoors slammed shut. Having no wing de-icing capability and no remaining backup vacuum pressure, I was facing the distinct possibility of descending through 14,000 feet of ice-laden clouds. Instantly, the flight risks began to rise.
This was an option, but with stiff southwesterly winds, it would push me well into my fuel reserves. It would also lengthen my dependence upon the one remaining vacuum pump. If that one toasted, too, my problems would have escalated dramatically! The only other option was to check for pilot reports (PIREPs) that could possibly indicate where the risk of icing would be least on the descent through the sub-freezing clouds. I did this and, surprisingly, icing conditions were being reported nearly everywhere except for around Buffalo! This, of course, was no guarantee of ice-free conditions for my descent, but it looked like the best option at the time. [All pilots note: Icing PIREPs save lives.] Where-oh-where are the FARs now? Without de-icing boots, my aircraft was no longer certified for flight into known-icing conditions (per FAR 91.9). Yet such flight quickly became the only option.
Sure, one might regard this as an emergency, but without having any icing flight experience, I wondered if they knew or understood the descent strategies that I might use to mitigate the icing risks. I reported my situation to Cleveland Center and requested that they secure icing PIREPs from flights going into Buffalo. I also indicated my desire to delay beginning my descent until the last possible moment. They passed my concerns along to the Buffalo TRACON. Just before handing me off to Buffalo, the Cleveland Center controller advised me of weather immediately ahead with reports of moderate icing and cloud tops reported up to Flight Level 200. In response, I requested clearance up to Flight Level 210 for the final portion of my trip. As for personal minimums . . . As indicated above, I was okay with the forecast 900 foot ceiling and 2 miles visibility at Buffalo that I received before launching. I dialed in the Buffalo ATIS and discovered that the ceiling and visibility had recently dropped to just above minimums in blowing snow. Again, my mind curiously raced back to all those pilots who insist on having personal minimums before commencing any flight. What these folks always seem to forget is that . . . weather changes. It can become worse, dramatically worse without warning! The risks were ratcheting up quickly. Once I gave up the security of VFR weather on top of the 20,000 foot undercast, I would be committed to continue the descent. All the while, I was wondering about the continued operation of my secondary vacuum pump. I was also wondering about the distinct possibility of accreting ice on the descent. Once I started down, I wanted to get safely on the ground as quickly as possible. The Buffalo Approach controller, aware of my situation, issued my descent clearance with "pilot discretion" down to 2,500 feet and instructed me to intercept the localizer for Buffalo's Runway 5. His instructions gave me the altitude freedom to deal with possible icing as I needled my way down through the cloud layers. I began picking up light icing and impact snow on the leading edge of wings as I descended through 4,000 feet. I had all of the other de-icing components (pitot heat, prop and windshield heat) operating. The final chore was to find the runway. The latest reported visibility was one-quarter mile. I glanced at the vacuum gauge and wondered what would happen now if the remaining pump failed. Did I dare plan on executing a missed approach and returning to this mess for a second try? While no pilot should ever be mentally committed to land, regardless of visibility, I was beginning to suffer this malady. If ever I was focused on keeping needles centered, speed under control (and remembering to lower the gear), it was now. Now inside the final approach fix, a solid wall of hypnotizing snow, reflecting off my landing light, filled the windscreen. With just 100 feet to go before reaching minimums, there was no sign of anything below. No familiar lights of the city were penetrating the clouds and blowing snow below. Then, almost like magic, I caught a quick glimpse of the runway approach light system just as I reached decision height. I continued down and rested the landing gear on several inches of fresh powdery snow in the softest landing of my flying career. The job was not over The tower controller could not see me as I rolled to a stop. I refused his instructions to exit the runway at Taxiway Echo because I could see that it had not been recently plowed. Same thing with Taxiway Delta which, too, was sitting under about 8 inches of snow. The only remaining route to the FBO was via Runway 32, which was hardly distinguishable from the surrounding terrain due to the blowing and drifting snow. I reported off of the active runway and inched my way to the FBO. Lessons worth noting! People do not generally die in airplanes under normal operating conditions. It's when things begin to go wrong that poorly trained and non-proficient pilots meet their fate. An unexpected component failure, a sudden encounter with non-forecast icing, continued VFR flight into IFR conditions . . . these are the things that can hurt us and our passengers when aloft. The rule book often doesn't apply in these situations. Tragically, those who know and only fly by the rules but who lack awareness of the real world of flight are the ones that fill the NTSB fatal accident reports. As for personal minimums, don't EVER launch into IFR conditions unless you are sufficiently proficient to land to published minimums. This business about personal minimums makes good academic sense, but it is filled with logic holes in the real world. As one of our local pundits once said, "You can't jump the Niagara gorge in two small leaps!" Swimming with the Whales and Sharks
If you would like to learn more about the unique challenges of operating in this airspace, see the March, 2008 issue of IFR Magazine. You will find an article I recently wrote about my experiences flying training flights into all five of the major New York City airports.
Or, you can click HERE to listen to a podcast I did with IFR Magazine editor, Jeff Van West, on the best ways into Manhattan from any of the 5 NYC airports.
To subscribe to IFR Magazine, click
HERE. The Sad Saga Continues . . . and people die!
The pilot used this airplane on a daily basis to commute to and from the Houston area several hundred miles to the southeast. He had also been a Naval aviator and was an active member of the Armed Forces Reserve with over 1,700 hours flying an UH-60 helicopter. According to friends, he was very familiar with his airplane and the airport. Tragically, what they saw left a lasting impression! What happened . . . It was a warm morning in the Texas hill country just above San Antonio. The temperature was hovering around 80 degrees F. The pilot began what appeared to be a normal takeoff role. One of the witnesses reported that after the airplane became airborne, it stayed close to the runway and gained speed. At about 100 to 150 feet above the ground the airplane climbed in a pronounced nose-high attitude, and subsequently rolled abruptly to the left, followed by a nose-low attitude. The aircraft impacted the ground in an inverted, nose-down attitude. The cabin and left wing was consumed by fire. The pilot was killed. The post-crash examination of the airframe and the engine failed to reveal any anomalies that could have prevented normal flight operation.
The National Transportation Safety Board
determines the probable cause(s) of this
accident as follows:
The pilot's failure to maintain the
best angle of climb speed resulting in
an inadvertent stall. A contributing
factor was the high density altitude. What REALLY may have happened? It's apparent from the NTSB probable cause report that this was a classic stall/spin accident. But what could have caused it? An experienced pilot was at the controls. Sure, it was a warm day, but an RV-6A, powered by a 180 horsepower Lycoming O-360-A1A engine, is a perfectly capable machine even at the reported density altitude of 3,126 feet. The only hint of anything unusual was revealed by witness statements noting that the airplane took off, remained close to the ground, then pulled up abruptly. From this, we might conclude that the pilot was attempting to perform a high performance climb-out. We know that family and friends had come out to watch him take off. While pure speculation, perhaps the pilot inserted a bit of bravado in what would otherwise have been a normal flight operation. Remaining low over the runway to build speed followed by too much back pressure on the stick proved once again that an airplane can be made to stall at any airspeed. An unexpected stall, coupled with four powerful left-turning tendencies of a single engine airplane in a steep climb and insufficient right rudder, could easily produce a left hand spin. Close to the ground, this scenario is unrecoverable. Ostentatious Displays Not concluding that this was the case here, but we pilots have been known to "thrill the crowd" with ostentatious displays of our airmanship skills. We add a touch of bravado to an otherwise simple maneuver and suddenly things go terribly bad. A failed engine at the top of a high performance climb, a bit of disorientation as we turn to look at the crowd, or a simple misjudging of our altitude with nearby obstacles can instantly turn into tragedy.
In summary, let's leave ostentatious displays of aerial
showmanship to professional aerobatic pilots! Panoramic View of the Airbus 380 Cockpit Click HERE to view a remarkable 360 degree view of the new Airbus 380 cockpit. Once open, click on the arrows shown to rotate your view. Thanks to Buffalo ATC controller, Mike Borgaman, for sharing this with us! Getting Ready to Land It's no surprise to any pilot who has soloed an airplane that the most critical phase of flight is . . . landing. In most cases, it is here that the pilot task requirements rise up to meet the declining capabilities of the increasingly fatigued pilot.
According to AOPA's Air Safety Foundation data (see chart left), landing is, in fact, the riskiest of all phases of flight. As seen in this chart, close to one-half (40.3%) of all non-fatal accidents occur during landing! Similarly, 19% of all fatal accidents occur during the approach to landing phase. While approaches and landings are arguably more difficult than takeoff and cruise flight, approaches and landings are also executed after a certain amount of pilot fatigue has begun to develop. In other words, our inherent skills diminish with each continuing hour of flight. This fact is illustrated in the graphic below:
The risks are greater for the instrument pilot! When we add to landing the necessity of executing an instrument missed approach procedure, the risks of pilot-induced error goes up dramatically. By definition, the missed approach scenario incorporates the worst possible weather and the requirement implementation of "Plan B." And if our pre-flight planning was less than perfect, we may be facing "Plan B" with marginal fuel and perhaps some airframe icing! Thus, as has commonly been noted, the toughest part of all instrument flight occurs when we are most fatigued. How can we prepare for the heightened risks of landings? The first thing we can do to the risks of landings is to be optimally proficient for all possible landing scenarios. For example, getting ready to land at our home airport on a sunny afternoon in calm winds barely raises the stress meter. Factor in an unfamiliar airport with a short, narrow runway, with gusty crosswind and trees at both ends, our stress meter could get pegged! Stress, of course, takes an enormous toll on pilot energy and proficiency. Reduce the stress and the risks go down. The second thing we can do is make maximum use of a second pilot or even an autopilot. Reducing the enroute piloting workload is a great way to conserve energy and proficiency for landing.
Lastly, maintain your overall pilot proficiency. Fly frequently to build up your aviation stamina!
A Tribute to the P-51 Mustang and the WWII Pilot Who Flew It Click HERE for an emotional view of the P-51 Mustang and a member of the Greatest Generation who flew it in WWII.
Thanks to Paul Pederson of Buffalo, NY for
sharing this with us.
Partial Panel Skills - The Key to Survival
Moments later, her aircraft entered a steep turning
descent. Both she and her young son died in the crash.
It makes little difference whether we're flying a bizjet
or a C-172. If we're in the clouds and hanging our
life out on the gauges, we better have a sure-fire plan on
what to do if any of those gauges fails.
Remember, it's not if . . . but when!
As any experienced pilot knows, airplane accessories
including vacuum pumps, alternators, and every instrument on
the panel can fail suddenly, without warning. When
they do . . . at the worst time, the pilot's first response
is disbelief. Once he resolves himself to the fact
that he has a problem, the pilot has one of two instant
choices to make.
Which choice will YOU make?
The first choice is resignation. Fear emerges.
Our thinking begins to cavitate like an oil pump scavenging
that last remaining quart of oil in the sump. We're
not sure what to do next.
The second choice, and one that is not taken in a
surprisingly high percentage of cases, is to work the
problem. We must instantly decide which backup systems
or alternative instruments can be relied upon to complete
the flight safely.
We know, for example, if the attitude indicator gauge
self-destructs and we still have vacuum pressure or an
electrically powered HSI or heading indicator, we can keep
our wings level by maintaining a strict heading. If
the airplane isn't turning, it isn't banking!
Then there is the turn coordinator. Keep the little
airplane in the window level and we can remain upright as
long as we have fuel. If fact, if we're
really on our game, we can point the airplane in a southerly
direction and maintain a wings-level attitude on the
magnetic compass alone.
Redundancy is the key!
While having sharp partial panel skills is critical to
safe instrument flight, having backup systems can make
things much easier. Having two vacuum pumps, as I do
on the T210, goes a very long way in assuring safe flight.
Adding a backup electrically operated attitude indicator is
another golden option.
Having two alternators, each serving independent
electrical busses, as is present on the Cessna (formerly
Columbia) 400, provides consummate backup
protection for glass panel-equipped aircraft.
The Garmin G1000 glass cockpit offers many
system redundancies. For example, if the primary
flight display (PFD) panel suddenly goes blank, a single
button push sends the PFD information over to the
multi-function display (MFD) located on the right side of
the panel as illustrated below:
Practice, practice, practice . . .
Practicing partial panel skills is essential to
maintaining optimal pilot proficiency. It is here that
GA simulators can shine. A sharp sim operator can
surreptitiously fail systems in ways that can make grown men
cry without ever leaving the ground.
The important thing is that we practice failed
instruments and systems every chance we get. When we
do this frequently, the tragedy that beset the lady pilot in
the above referenced CitationJet may never happen to us.
Bob Miller Flight
Training, Inc. off to a flying start!!
Proving that people
recognize quality in both the airplanes they fly and in the
instruction they receive, BMFT, Inc. got off to a great
start during some of the worst weather flying in the nation. Not deterred by sub-zero temperatures,
snow-covered runways, gusty crosswinds, bone-jarring
turbulence, and aggressive maneuvering around lake-effect
snow showers, we managed to launch almost every day.
While keeping safety as our highest
priority, the inherent challenges of this wintry mix of
weather made for much more effective flight training
experiences than sitting in a warm FBO office drinking
coffee or trying to master winter flying in a GA simulator. The training airplane
helps to make the difference!
When combined with a thorough pre-flight
weather briefing and a basic understanding of winter
meteorology, training flights can be safely conducted nearly
every day during even the harshest winter months.
Obviously, a bit of creative scheduling flexibility is also
required. Specialized training
areas:
Snow-Covered and Icy Runway
Operations: Runway surface conditions can
spell the difference between a safe landing and an
ego-damaging and possible propeller bending excursion
off the side or beyond the end of the runway.
Learning to assess and interpret the effects of
hard-packed or drifting snow over ice-covered runways is
the mark of a proficient pilot. High Wind Operations:
Inexperienced pilots fail to see the difference between
high winds and high crosswinds. Many light GA
aircraft can be operated safely with surface winds of 20
to 35 knots . . . depending upon their direction
relative to available runways AND taxiway and runway
surface conditions. As such, a great many
wonderful flying days are lost due to the absence of
effective wind-awareness skills.
Remember, it makes a BIG difference whether your
airplane is coming out of a cold hangar versus a heated hangar! Knowing what to do to mitigate
the effects of very cold temperatures can spell the
difference between safe mission completion and a nasty
outcome. Defensive Airborne Weather
Strategies: In the relic days of aviation,
the only weather information we had aloft came from
looking out the window. Later, ATC found ways to
help us steer clear of the worst weather. Today,
however, we have an abundance of weather-avoidance
equipment mounted right in the cockpit. But having
this equipment and learning how to use it effectively
are two entirely different things! Winter Cross-Country Planning
Strategies: Planning a flying day around the
home airport verses an anticipated trip across three
states for a weekend of skiing or to attend a critical
business meeting are as different as night and day.
We don't develop these kinds of winter flying skills by
sitting at home wishing we could have completed the
trip. The ONLY way to become proficient in
wintertime cross-country flight is to make every
training flight a cross-country experience. Affiliated with Utah
Valley State College For flight students wishing to pursue
professional pilot training in anticipation of a career in
aviation, BMFT, Inc. has established an affiliation with the
Department of Aviation Science of Utah Valley State College. Through this affiliation, students can
pursue a two- or four-year college degree program online from
home while using eligible college financial aid to help
underwrite their cost of flight training. Demand meaningful
weather training!
We can change that by securing meaningful
wintertime flight training. If your flight school or
flight instructor will not provide that to you, come see me
at Bob Miller Flight Training, Inc., 716-864-8100 or click
HERE. Failed Engine in Flight -
Airplane Title Transfers Immediately to the Insurance
Company . . . well, almost! How many times have we read about a pilot with
failed a engine struggling to reach an airport, then landed
short in the trees and killed himself!
The pilot requested vectors to that
airport, but sadly, he landed well short, striking trees in
a
muddy swamp. The pilot was later found face down in
the mud . . . dead. From 9,000 feet, dozens
of suitable emergency landing sites can be found! While it is poor form to second guess the
judgment of pilot who is no longer here to explain his
actions, the facts of this tragic accident suggest that a
better outcome could have resulted had the pilot taken an
alternate course of action. For example, with a failed engine at
10,000 feet and a basic 8 to 1 glide ratio, the pilot
theoretically had his pick of emergency landing sites
anywhere within a 16 mile radius. Possible
sites include unobstructed four-lane highways, beaches along
the Florida shoreline, open, treeless fields and, ideally,
an airport. For some unknown reason, this pilot
allowed himself to descend all the way down to 2,500 feet
before committing to reach an airport still some five miles
away. Protecting the
insurance company!!!!! Recognizing that we pilots all have warm
and fuzzy affection for our aircraft insurance company, to
whom we pay those modest insurance premiums every year, it
might make sense to risk life and limb to stretch a
power-off glide to an airport just to save the integrity of
the airplane. For others, like me, it makes no such
sense. If my engine fails in flight, I'm going for the
first suitable landing site I can find, whether airport or
not. It will matter little to me if my "pride and joy"
gets bent in the process, as long as my passengers and I can
walk away uninjured! Truth be told, our insurance
company would rather pay aircraft damages than make a
million dollar payout to grieving widows and passengers. Holding Patterns . . .
Vestiges of an Earlier Era!
Legend has it that Christopher Cross and
Burt Bacharach penned the words to this hit song while
circling for several hours in an airliner above JFK waiting
for a landing clearance. Fortunately, flow control has put a stop
to most of this mindless holding, but there are two
occasions when all instrument pilots must demonstrate
holding pattern proficiency. The first is on their instrument check
ride. The second is when completing an instrument
proficiency check (IPC). Beyond that, it is a rare day when
ATC will banish us to a holding pattern. And when they do,
nobody really cares how we enter the hold. The important
thing is that we get there, remain on the protected side,
maintain the assigned altitude, and don't leave until
cleared to do so. Other than that, there's nothing to it. So what are the rules
about holding patterns? Airspeed: The
maximum indicated airspeed for holding patterns at
altitudes from 6,001 to 14,000' is 210 knots. Size: Upon entering
a holding pattern, the initial outbound leg is flown for
1 minute at or below 14,000 feet MSL, and for 1-1/2
minutes above 14,000 feet MSL. Timing for subsequent
outbound legs should be adjusted as necessary to achieve
proper inbound
ATC Clearances: ATC
provides a clearance into and out of a holding pattern.
Each clearance includes a holding fix, holding
direction, holding altitude, present time, and an expect
further clearance (EFC) time. Practicing holding procedures is something
every proficient instrument pilot does. In fact, such
practice is required by FAR 61.57 to occur no less frequently
than every six months. In reality, with the preponderance of GPS
moving maps, holding pattern procedures are simple walks in
the park!
Homemade Runways Don't Always Work!
Much can be said about the versatility of a Super Cub or
similar taildragger when operating off of short fields or
muddy river flats, but don't try this in in your Piper
Cherokee. Unfortunately, this hapless commercial pilot
with a CFI certificate and 1,000 hours of PIC time never got
this message.
Are you getting an idea of this fellow's aeronautical
decision making skills?
Not surprisingly, this narrow cornfield was not without
its obstacles. A six foot high, 4x4 wood pole stood
along side the cornfield about 550 feet from where the
airplane sat. Just beyond that was a parking lot and
power lines.
Anticipating some difficulty getting by the six foot
pole, the pilot actually painted a makeshift centerline in
the cornfield that he would have to follow to avoid the
pole.
On takeoff, as fate would have it, his airplane drifted
left. It struck the pole just 2.5 feet inboard from
its left wingtip. The aircraft veered left, climbed
momentarily, then struck the power lines.
Lessons Learned
It's difficult to put in words where this pilot went
wrong without disparaging the departed. Not being
there to witness this sad event, too, leaves some room for a
possible rationale.
Needless to say, this accident chain began with the
pilot's poor pre-flight fuel planning. The fatal link,
of course, was his decision to attempt a very risky takeoff
from an unimproved field bordered by obstacles.
A simple "what if" analysis would have been useful
here. "What if" I hit an obstacle while on the
takeoff roll and lift off? Will I survive?
This guy didn't.
Donations Help!
It is your continuing donor support of
Please help me in this important lifesaving endeavor by donating to the cause. You can do so by check or
credit card. Follow the instructions below.
If you prefer to send a
personal check, you can do so by making it payable to "Over
the Airwaves" and mail it to:
Your
donations are used exclusively in the preparation,
advancement, and promotion of
Over the
Airwaves to
and for pilots all over the globe. Simulated Instrument Training - Beware!
So why train in simulated IFR conditions
when you can have the real thing? Actually, there are a couple of acceptable reasons
for wearing a view limiting device or sitting in front of a
GA flight simulator for IFR training . . .
like when learning procedures, practicing unusual attitudes, and
simulating emergency
procedures. Beyond that, such simulations offer marginal value. But watch out when converting simulated
instrument skills to the real world of IFR flight! The
inability to whip off the hood or to step away from the
simulator when experiencing vertigo are the very things that
can get pilots with simulated instrument ratings into big time
trouble. What's missing in simulated training?
Aside from all of the missing kinesthetic
queues associated with real airplanes in real flight,
simulated with a view-limiting device and/or training in anything less than a full-up airline
simulator does NOT fully prepare pilots for the vagaries of real IFR world. Tragically, this fact has been proven
countless hundreds of times
by pilots who paid the ultimate price for continued VFR
flight into IFR conditions.
The Circling Dilemma !! The weather sucks. The only instrument approach to your destination airport is accompanied by a 30 knot tailwind. You've got two choices. The first is to divert 40 miles to an airport having winds favoring an available instrument approach procedure. The other choice is to bite your lip, descend to circling minimums, then take a spin around the pattern just barely 300 feet above obstacles in weather suitable only for ducks. Just how much protected area to we have?
The accompanying illustration (left) shows the safe circling approach area. The safe turning radius from the center of the airport is based upon our approach speed category. As we might imagine, circling approaches are wrought with risks that make conventional straight approaches look like child-play. Here are those risks:
Which way to turn?? A little bit of advance planning is necessary before commencing a circling approach. Looking at the airport diagram is a good place to start this planning process.
As illustrated in the diagram (left), we have several or more options as we approach the airport. The important thing is that we remain in the circling maneuver protected area as illustrated above. Special VFR considerations While an ATC clearance to commence an instrument approach ending with a circling maneuver protects us from other IFR traffic, this clearance does NOT protect us from other VFR traffic. Thus, EXTREME care must be exercised if the weather at our destination airport is marginal VFR. There could be VFR traffic in the pattern as we descend down and breakout of the clouds just short of the airport. While frequent radio calls and careful radio listening may be helpful, note that not all VFR aircraft have radios and/or their pilots may not be announcing their intentions. In summary, it is not surprising that many commercial operators do not permit their flight crews to execute circling maneuvers. The risks can be too great. If you do circle, do so carefully and be prepared to execute the proper missed approach procedure. British Airways Flight 38, B-777 Emergency Landing at Heathrow! We have the cockpit video of the B-777 that landed short of the runway at Heathrow. Click HERE. Aero-News.Net Features OTA in Podcasts
"CFIs Make Mistakes, Too" is the latest in a series of podcasts I have been doing with Aero-News.Net's Paul Plack. You can hear, or download for later listening, these 15 minute interviews and any of the previously conducted podcasts by clicking on the titles below:
By the way, Aero-News.Net is a FREE daily online publication that is packed with aviation related news. It is the first thing I read every morning. You can log on to Aero-News.Net and subscribe for your free subscription by clicking HERE. Helpful Sponsors Please click on the following images to learn more about each of these sponsors.
Being raised in an airplane-owning family has its many benefits. From the time you can crawl to the final count-down to college, you can recall many dozens of wonderful trips to places most kids only dream of.
Birthday wish attempted.
It didn't take much flight planning that day to realize that the weather was going to be a bit dicey. The early morning freezing fog at my home airport was forecast to lift by 9am.
A cold front passing over the region converging with a a moisture-laden low pressure area moving up from the south produced a wintry mix of unsettled weather that characterizes much of the Great Lakes region from December through March.
Not to be deterred in her shopping plans, Erica pressed me hard to launch as planned. The fog continued to obscure my driving visibility as we made our way to the airport. I waved my electronic pass card by the sensor at the airport access gate and drove out onto the ramp.
It quickly became apparent that it would be a much longer wait than expected as the ground-hugging fog obscured the trees at the end of the runway. I turned my car around and headed home.
"Where are you going, Dad," said Erica?
"Back home," I replied, almost not believing she asked.
"Come on," she exclaimed. "You can take off and climb through this fog," she claimed.
Ah, the voice of wisdom from my exuberant passenger. Based upon an 18 year lifetime of many accident-free flights, Erica concluded that the freezing ground fog presented no significant risks. Like so many other low visibility flights in her past, she was convinced that we could quickly punch through to clear, sunny skies just above.
I tried to explain the unique meteorology that beset our airport that birthday morning, but she was not listening. Instead, she viewed the weather as a risk worth taking in order to fulfill her wishes for a day of shopping in New York City.
The illusion of immortality
Not deterred in my wish to have Erica understand that I was not wimping out on her, I asked, "What if we encounter a problem with the airplane just after takeoff? Where will we go? All of the area airports are blanketed with fog. There are sub-freezing clouds above."
Curiously, I knew she wasn't buying my explanation. She was poised somewhere between the illusion of immortality and the fact of death, just as many of us who love aviation often find ourselves. Like the many bold pilots in the past, she was willing to hang it all out on the very high probability that things would work out just fine.
Maybe her view of things explains why so many of us love to fly. It also explains why others of us die in airplanes. We aviators are an adventuresome lot. If we ask our neighbors, our non-flying friends, or our relatives, they will quickly note that we are risk takers by definition.
In truth, we do find aviation to be exhilarating. Recall our own feelings the first time we soloed. Think back to the first time alone aloft when we popped out on top. Even battle-hardened veterans of a dozen air wars get a warm, cozy feeling when they slither down the glideslope on a dark turbulent night to just 200 feet above the ground then suddenly find the twinkling approach lighting system and a waiting runway just ahead.
We conquered our fears and lived to fly another day.
And the fact of death!
Tragically, at least once a day on average, the fact of death in an GA airplane emerges. Like the CitationJet pilot who, along with her 8 year-old son, died earlier this past month when she lost control on climb-out from Augusta, Maine. The same happened last winter for my friend, Father Tony Attea, who lost control of his airplane on climb-out from the Jamestown, NY airport.
It also emerged last summer for my friend Tracy Dart while lifting off from a grass strip in Mayville, NY. This sad scenario also occurred last year for two of my colleague pilots on take-off on their maiden flight in their homebuilt aircraft from Oswego, NY. The same happened to a couple of my pilot acquaintances lifting off in a Cub on floats from Rochester, NY last spring.
This sad litany of daily fatal wrecks confirms the fact of death and its awful permanence. Sadly, many of us have lost somebody while flying between the illusion of immortality and the fact of death . . . and lost.
Here's the real tragedy., In over 80 percent of these sad events, the pilot had the power to prevent it. He could have said no when, instead, he said yes.
I think back to that morning in the car at the airport with my daughter on her 18th birthday. She and I have flown the continent together since the day she was born, all without incident.
Did I make the right call?
Answer: In all likelihood, my well-maintained, turbocharged, known ice certified C-210 could have climbed up out safely without incident, and my daughter's 18th birthday wish of shopping in New York City would have been fulfilled. But it's the phrase, "in all likelihood" in the previous sentence that troubled me. That's why I declined to fly that morning.
Let's never forget that the illusion of immortality and the fact of death is very narrow, indeed. If we pilots recognized this, our fatal accident rate would tumble!
Bob
Miller, ATP, CFII 
|
Here's
how this weather system was depicted on the surface analysis
chart for about the same period. Note the
convergence of warm and cold
fronts and the associated low pressure area coupled with the
tightly packed isobars.
For
example, this past week I completed several days of business
related travel in my known-ice certified Cessna 210.
The last leg of this trip involved a non-stop 900 mile
flight from Panama City, Florida back home to Buffalo, NY.
I
called the Elkins Flight Service Station (FSS) and requested
an updated weather briefing, asking specifically for the
location of VFR conditions through which I could safely
descend, land, and obtain the necessary repairs. The
eager-to-help specialist reported that the nearest VFR began
along the eastern edge of Illinois. 
Suddenly,
the "black and white" rules of the FARs became gray and
murky. My mind raced back to all of the many debates
and discussions I had had with those who insist that one
should never penetrate sub-freezing clouds in a non
known-ice certified airplane. What would these guys do
in my situation now?
To
some, the thought of flying oneself into the New York City
airports is little more than a walk in the park. To
many others, however, it's viewed as a trip into the
proverbial lion's den.
If
you're not subscribing to IFR Magazine (which every serious
IFR-rated pilot should be), click
The family of a proud RV-6A owner came out last May 30th to watch him
take off from a 2,300 foot long grass strip in Boerne, TX.
Next
and possibly the most abused thing we do to ourselves is be
fully rested before launching any flight. Taking off
early in the morning, working all day at our destination,
then departing for home that night can be a tragedy waiting
to happen. Apply the 12 hour rule (12 hours
total awake and flying time per day).
A
lady pilot with her 8 year old son took off last month from Augusta, Maine in her Cessna 525 CitationJet.
She climbed to about 3,000 feet in IFR conditions, then
reported to ATC that she had lost her attitude indicator and
declared an emergency.
I've
replaced four vacuum pumps, two HSI's, and one attitude
indicator in my 1980 T210 over the past 10 years.
Stuff happens even in the best maintained aircraft and, per
Mr. Murphy, it often happens at the worst possible time.
To
do this, we proficient pilots must have solid gold partial
panel instrument skills.
BMFT, Inc. aircraft are each equipped with G1000 glass
cockpits. While uplink XM weather is not a good tool
to navigate through a field or line of thunderstorms,
it is very effective in keeping a close watch on the
movement of lake effect snow showers. 
Below
are several critically important topics that every
winter-savvy pilot should master before launching into
frigid winter weather:
Sub-Freezing
Temperature Considerations: Airplanes,
like people, react in their own special way to
sub-freezing temperatures. Engines, the
brakes and wheels, and moveable control surfaces are
particularly vulnerable to sub-freezing temperatures.
Let's
face it. If we live above 35N lat or below 35S lat,
general aviation is NOT a year-round activity for many
less-than-proficient pilots. The challenges of
sub-freezing weather are just too great for many pilots to
handle safely.
Such was the case near DeFuniak Springs,
FL when the pilot of a 1966 Beech V35 lost power and
attempted to stretch his glide to the nearest airport.
He was at about 9,000 feet when the engine failed.
Upon reaching 2,500 feet, ATC advised him that the nearest
airport was approximately five miles to the southwest.
Recalling
Christopher Cross's 1980 Grammy winning song, "Caught
Between the Moon and New York City,"
(click 
leg
time. The size can also be determined by DME, with
the distance specified by ATC.
The
day had started out badly for this PA28-181 pilot. He
ran out of gas and landed in a cornfield. Apparently
not wanting to remain in this embarrassing predicament any
longer than he had to, he secured six gallons of fuel with
the intention of turning this cornfield into a homemade
runway.
Okay,
so when all we have is sunshine, like in New Mexico and
Arizona, simulated IFR may be all that we can get.
But up north, we have more clouds than sunshine!
My
daughter, Erica, is one of those fortunate kids. This
past month she turned 18. Her birthday wish was . . . a
trip to New York City for some shopping. From Buffalo,
this would be a quick 1.5 hour flight in my T-210.