Close Calls

Confessions of a Pilot

Fri, 1 Jan 2010 09:11:17 -0500

Our pilot had only received his private license a few short months earlier and was anxious to take family and friends flying whenever he could. Since most of his training was done in a Piper Tomahawk this is what he rented from the local flight training facility in order to take his brother for a ride on that hot summer’s day. Our pilot’s brother was a healthy 6 foot 4 weighing in at about 230 pounds – a good thing in some situations but not just then given density altitude considerations and the fact that the wind at the time favored the shortest of the three runways.  “By now it should be obvious that this is not the best scenario for beginning a pleasure flight or any flight for that matter,” our pilot admits. “To be honest, I don't remember what our fuel load was or if in fact we were over gross. We did manage to take off and clear the (not so) far end of the runway ‘safely’ followed by a much deteriorated climb rate.”  With years to reflect on the day’s flight our pilot already faults his novice judgment, but his self-critique peaks when he remembers that it was not very long afterwards that he looked over to his brother and asked “Would you like me to demonstrate a spin?”  Humbly adds our pilot, “No doubt my brother agreed, I’m almost ashamed to say, because he trusted my ability.”  The Tomahawk was at 4000 feet, which our pilot initially thought should be high enough, but continued up to 5500 feet just in case. “Thank God we did,” exclaims our pilot, “because my mother could very well have lost two sons in their mid-twenties that day and it would have been my fault!”  After the well-engrained pre-checks and clearing turns, our pilot pulled back the throttle and pulled into a high nose up attitude. Very high… almost vertical! As the speed diminished he abruptly applied plenty of rudder and within seconds they were in a fully developed spin.  “Okay, enough already” he remembers thinking. “Time to recover.” Ailerons neutral, he pushed the yoke forward and applied opposite rudder. But the Tomahawk failed to respond!  With terra firma getting ever closer and adrenaline rushing, our pilot thought he was doing all the right things to recover from a spin. “Then in an I-don’t-want-to-die type of panic I pulled back the column,” he explains.  The airplane finally stopped spinning. But bewildered and not paying attention to airspeed a wing soon dropped and they began another spin in the opposite direction! This time they recovered, apparently normally, after a few turns.  “When control was finally regained I was probably too scared to even look at the altimeter,” confesses our pilot, “but I remember thinking that the elevation appeared to be more like the view at circuit height.”  Before he flew again our pilot contacted a respected instructor and booked some dual training in the Tomahawk performing numerous spins and recoveries. He and his instructor tried to figure out what went wrong – aside from perhaps his over exuberance to have fun with an airplane. One possibility was that his tall passenger might have braced himself against the rudder pedals during the precarious maneuver. Another is that due to an improper technique for inducing the spin our pilot unknowingly entered an inverted spin, something was completely unfamiliar with.  He concludes, “I know in retrospect that with the limited training and experience required to attain a license, I should not have been doing deliberate spins.”  Live and learn… learn and live!  Fly safe(r).

A Rookie Mistake

Tue, 1 Dec 2009 18:15:34 -0500

Mont Tremblant is a quaint and beautiful resort town in Quebec. In the winter, Tremblant is famous for it’s skiing, but the area is also a wonderful summer destination with a host of activities including some incredible golf. Mont Tremblant International is about a 45 drive to the north but for private pilots the summer season offers the convenience of a grass strip right in neighboring St-Jovite only minutes away from the Village.  Our pilot was a newly licensed private pilot with less than 100 hours. When thinking about a day-trip destination to fly his recently acquired Piper Cherokee he decided on Mont Tremblant. Not only would he be able to add a few hours to his logbook, he’d even get in a round of golf with a friend.  About 30 miles from St-Jovite our pilot began hearing position reports on the radio. He wasn’t able to understand the French language calls but that didn’t stop him from making his own calls in English. His concern for the whereabouts of nearby traffic provided just enough of a distraction that our new pilot without realizing it, started falling behind on the organization of his planned arrival.  Unfamiliar with the aerodrome to begin with and never having so much as spotted a grass strip much less land at one, our pilot, despite his usually thorough pre-flight planning, began to feel a little overburdened as he began his descent into St-Jovite.  There were no replies to his request for an airport advisory but he had expected runway 20 so called “inbound to cross over the field for the turnaround, runway two zero.” He was approaching from the west, would cross over the airport, turn back, then join mid-left downwind. That was his plan and he thought he had it all straight. But let’s review…  Approaching from the west… crossing then turning back over the airport – now westbound… then turning for the mid-left downwind – southbound, right? That would make final northbound?!?! Not 20… but rather 02!  Our pilot’s turn calls continued, ending with “two zero” while all the while in the pattern for what was in fact zero two. On final and unwittingly downwind, about to make his first grass field landing our pilot was further down the runway than he had hoped before the Cherokee’s wheels finally touched the ground. But that’s only where the excitement began.  With the end of the turf fast approaching and a forest just beyond that, he had to decide between hard braking (that he thought might be ineffective on the grass) or throttling back up to make use of his speed and going around. His still immature instincts chose the latter.  The 140 horses gave their all and the little Cherokee climbed as best it could just edging into stall horn territory. With only feet to spare, our pilot cleared the treetops only to face his next obstacle – Mont Tremblant.  “I tried to keep the climb going as much as I could but had to point the nose down every few seconds to regain the speed I was bleeding off” our pilot recounts. Within seconds (that seemed like minutes), the Cherokee finally cleared the mountain and leveled off.  Our pilot did his best to gather him thoughts and prepare for another attempt at the landing. He turned and entered the downwind leg for the same runway. Still calling it two zero (though it was zero two), and again with a tailwind on final, our pilot this time set the Cherokee down early enough on the turf that speed was no longer a factor as they coasted to the end of the runway.  Two people emerged from the airport office exclaiming, “We thought you were going to kill yourself!”  After realizing the significance of his geographic disorientation and the resultant avoidable (though nevertheless very real) dangers, our pilot mentally reenacted the scenario. “Boy, I’m very lucky to be able to have learned a lot from that simple, stupid mistake,” he admits. “From that moment on I began mentally and visually mapping out my every arrival detail – headings, altitudes, everything!”  As has been often spoken by wise old pilots… Never let your aircraft take you somewhere your brain didn't get to five minutes earlier. Our pilot seconds that.  Fly safe(r).

Surviving a Flat Spin

Sun, 1 Nov 2009 08:30:30 -0500

Up until the afternoon of the August 13th 2007 our pilot in Great Britain had thought that the flat spin was the province of much more thoroughbred aircraft than his Tipsy Nipper. He also believed it was a maneuver that required positive actions to enter. On both counts he was quite wrong.  Our aerobatic pilot would enter the spin from a wings level, fully stalled condition. Throttle closed at the stall he sharply applied full right rudder, full left aileron, and full back stick. Within half a turn he noted the higher nose attitude and rate of rotation. Within a full turn he knew the spin had gone flat.  Application of full opposite rudder, centered ailerons and progressive full forward stick did nothing. After a couple of turns our pilot centered the controls, checked the throttle was fully closed, and reapplied spin recovery. This too had no effect. During these inputs there was little or no control load.   He recalled reading that the flat spin was entered by application of power with opposite aileron and progressive back stick, so he really did not want to use power. However, locked into a maneuver he didn’t know how to recover from he was game to try anything.  Tentative applications of power against anti-spin rudder seemed to have no effect. When he tried giving longer bursts of power the engine stopped! With no starter motor installed in the aircraft, our pilot considered losing his engine to be “the least of my problems” as he continued hurling toward the ground at 3000 feet per minute, completely out of control still in a flat spin.  It was then that our pilot grimly uttered to himself “Well, this is it Neil.” But human nature being what it is he was not prepared to give up.  The rate of rotation was quite high, and the only controls with any aerodynamic load that he could perceive were the ailerons. Our pilot desperately formulated that if he applied full right rudder, full right aileron, and forward stick he might just be able to tip the aircraft into a steeper spin from which he could hopefully recover.  Finally, the control inputs started to take effect and as he had predicted (and hoped) he recovered into level flight.   “After 26 turns you would not believe the level of disorientation” shares our pilot. “Unable to read the instruments, struggling to maintain straight and level flight, heading away from friendly soil I recovered enough to consider a forced landing and the wind direction. With no altitude to air-start the engine the landing area was quickly diminishing. Turning into wind I could see an area that looked survivable, but as I pitched up for the soft field landing the main gear caught the top wires of a barbed wire fence that I was unable to see.”  The wires flipped the plane onto its nose and it settled inverted in a small marshy hollow. There was no fire and although the port wing tip was underwater there was no risk of drowning. Since the canopy opened outward and the grass was against it our pilot would have to try to break the Perspex and crawl out through the water and mud in order to egress.  “This didn’t seem necessary, as I was in no immediate danger,” he assessed. “The inverted fuel system was not leaking and the tide wasn’t coming in. A call on 121.5 went unanswered, so I tried Essex Radar as I knew commercial traffic above me would be on that frequency. A Ryanair eventually relayed my mayday and only 20 minutes later the police support air unit arrived. Two of the crew lifted the tail to enable my escape. A full turnout of fire brigade and paramedics arrived shortly thereafter, and once it was established that I was completely unhurt we carried the Nipper to the grass track that I might have made had the fence not intervened!”  Our pilot reflects “What have I learned from the experience? Never assume the maneuver you are about to perform will end the same way… and a lot about flat spinning!”  On this day our pilot’s maneuver-entry altitude was 3500 feet, 500 feet higher than usual since he was trying something slightly different. He concludes “I judged that I recovered at height of 500 to 700 feet… I will leave the math to you! Remember: Altitude or airspeed, preferably both.”
Fly safe(r).

The Centennial Odyssey

Thu, 1 Oct 2009 00:08:14 -0400

We flew a total of almost 6000 miles – from the Toronto area to the shores of the Pacific ocean, then all the way across to the Atlantic before turning back and heading for home. And oh, what I’ve learned from the once in a lifetime experience of the recent Cross Canada Century Flight. Though there was a lot of it, it wasn’t just about the flying. As the journey progressed it became even more about the people, the places, and the awesome wonder of this incredible country.  It is easy to become regionalized in such a vast nation. But after having experienced the warm hospitality of a wide range of Canadians from across the country I have learned that I need to try harder to think about Canada as more than just what I know from within my own regional “silo.”   As aviators, we were consistently greeted as heroes by hundreds, sometimes thousands, along with waving flags and bands playing. Though heroes we were not but rather participants, like those who welcomed us, in a cross-country tribute to those who with their courage and ambition gave us aviation as know it today. All who sacrificed before us, risking their lives to make flying safer – even possible at all, are the heroes. And our journey was in honor of them.   A countdown of almost 2 years finally reached zero when on the morning of July 17th, 2009 good ol’ Cessna Foxtrot Lima Romeo India, our 206, fired up and became the first to launch from Boundary Bay, BC. It was only 18 hours before that we were in the midst of our westbound crossing of the Rockies, a first for everyone on board, to arrive at the opening ceremonies of the Century Flight. The next morning we were on our way over the colossal and wondrous mountain range again. Flying at the height of some of the peaks of the mammoth Rockies is truly the definition of the word “Awesome!”  The approximately 80 aircraft that departed British Columbia were joined by others in Calgary, Alberta taking the count to close to 100 heading into Brandon, Manitoba. Engine troubles befell one aircraft that rejoined the flight a little later on after a quick cylinder replacement. But it was upon our entry into Ontario that the weather gods stopped smiling.   A series of systems north of Lake Superior scattered the flight to various diversion points. Some were lucky enough to beat the weather while most waited for openings as one system passed just ahead of the next one. Some simply couldn’t get out. In fact, much of the latter group were forced to stay put for several days ending the journey for many of those aircraft.
Onward to Marathon then Sault Ste. Marie where weather once again delayed our arrival into Brampton, Ontario – my stomping grounds. It seemed it was no sooner we finally got into Brampton that we were already planning our departure ahead of – you guessed it – more weather!   Into Quebec and over Maine our numbers dwindled a little more as weather diversions became necessary with increasing regularity – some brief, some extended. Over the course of our stay in Fredericton, New Brunswick we regained several of our stragglers but weather continued to challenge the flight as it narrowed the departure window to Sydney, Nova Scotia resulting in a somewhat smaller contingent than expected at the official airport renaming ceremony that was planned to coincide with the arrival of the Century Flight.  Determined, those that were held back continued on when able, leading to an impressive presence at closing ceremonies held at the Alexander Graham Bell museum in Baddeck, Nova Scotia, overlooking the site of the first flight in Canadian history.   The odyssey completed, we said our warm goodbyes and dispersed. Some chose to extend their east coast stay, a few headed to Oshkosh, others returned to their homes near and far. The long-planned journey, despite some unavoidable challenges, had concluded successfully – and more importantly, safely.   We’re now hard at work producing the television special that when it airs on PBS, Global, and History Television this fall will almost certainly be more emotional personally than I had ever expected it would be. It will be a chance to relive this journey of a lifetime that was shared by thousands across the country including a couple of hundred of my newest friends.
Fly safe(r).

Lucky to be Alive

Tue, 1 Sep 2009 11:58:47 -0400

Our pilot lived in San Diego, California in the early 1950s and spent his extra money feeding his Ryan PT22 fuel. He worked the swing shift at Conair at the time. That gave him a lot of available time that he used for flying. Friends would say to him “next time you’re going flying on a nice day, I’d love to go”. If the weather was good and their schedule permitted, our pilot gave friends an open invitation to fly that they could take him up on by calling if they wanted to fly.

One day, a co-worker did just that so they made plans to go for a ride the next day. The weather over San Diego was broken clouds and wind from the west about 15 mph. It seemed perfect. Our pilot planned to go to Borrego Springs in the dessert just over the mountains. It would be a beautiful ride in a PT22.

Borrego Springs was just starting to develop. The sales office even had a dirt runway at their site. Upon landing they would send a limousine out to pick you up, bring you to their office, and try to sell you a lot in the dessert. After the two underwent the sales pitch then had lunch at the restaurant when our pilot realized the time. It was getting a little late so they rushed back to the airplane. This is where the tale really begins.

Taking off from Borrego Springs, the mountains climb very fast. Our pilot didn’t want them to be late for work so instead of climbing over Borrego for some altitude, he chose to fly up a wide canyon where he thought he could go into a gradual climb. Well, the mountains were climbing faster than the PT22 could. The oil pressure was dropping and the cylinder temperature was redlining. Our pilot hugged the side of the canyon with hopes of making a 180-degree turn.

“I felt I could reach out and grab a handful of dirt and rock” our pilot recalls. “Air speed was slowly disintegrating. I didn’t think I had enough room to do a 180. I had a little more throttle left and did a chandelle.”

“I’m still here, it worked!” thought our relieved pilot. “I always wondered for what purpose those maneuvers were taught.” He continues, “Coming out of the 180 I could clearly see the small pebbles on the ground. At that point there was a sigh of relief. My friend was not aware of any problems. I cautiously gained altitude to clear the mountains and now see scattered clouds. The closer I got to home the less scattered they were and the tops were getting higher. Panic started to set in again.”

Our pilot with map in hand began to lose sight of land. Occasionally he would spot a hole in the clouds at about 7,000 feet. At the time that he calculated that at that point they should be just about over the airport no such holes existed. If he couldn’t get down they would be over the sea.

Just then appeared a small hole in the cloud. Our pilot could see the airport from 7,000 feet. “I did a tight spiral, almost a spin down to 2,000 feet hoping the clouds wouldn’t close up the hole and suck me in.”

“We made it. My friend Nelson couldn’t stop talking about the beautiful ride he had.” Our pilot concludes, “Nelson never knew there was a problem. After landing, my knees could not stop shaking. I never told Nelson the truth. Nelson from Detroit, if you read this, you are lucky to be alive.”

Fly safe(r).

Oh, What a Century! - Redux

Sat, 1 Aug 2009 11:57:10 -0400

Last February, on a cold day in Baddeck, Nova Scotia, Canadian astronaut Bjarni Tryggvason lifted off in a working replica of the legendary Silver Dart to commemorate the centennial of flight in Canada. July 2009 will mark the journey of 100 aircraft from the west coast to the east coast so that as a mass the Century Flight may congregate on the historic maritime site to celebrate the time when 100 years ago J.A. McCurdy mounted the original Silver Dart and embarked upon the very first flight ever to take place in Canada. It was on February 23, 1909 on the property of inventor Alexander Graham Bell in Baddeck. Of course, several years earlier on December 17, 1903 Orville and Wilbur Wright made history in Kitty Hawk, NC when THE first flight occurred opening the era of powered flight.

The past 100 years (or 106 for our American cousins) has seen some previously unimaginable achievements. As incredible as flight itself is, we’ve since broken the sound barrier, been to the moon, and are arguably within a generation of some form of commercial space travel. Generally, flight is somewhat less mystical on the whole now as it was even 30 or 40 years ago since today flying is as much a contemporary norm as is driving a car.

This sentiment relates mostly, however, to commercial travel as we, the relative few who take command of the flight controls in GA aircraft, know that sitting in seat 26B of an A320 is nothing at all like sitting in the left seat of a C172! But whether you fly the bigs, buzz around in something smaller, aspire to do either, or simply fashion yourself an enthusiast, 100 years of flight will without a doubt mean something very special to you.

The Century Flight is one of many celebrations planned across Canada throughout 2009 – some large and some small. This includes dedicated portions of major annual events such as the COPA Convention from July 17th to 19th in Calgary and EAA’s AirVenture from July 27th to August 2nd at Oshkosh. Both events will commemorate the Canadian centennial and between these two aviation celebrations will be other parties from coast to coast in places like Boundary Bay, Brandon, Marathon, Sault Ste. Marie, Brampton, Fredericton, Sydney, and Baddeck itself – all welcoming the arrival of the Century Flight with pomp and circumstance.

Our acclaimed host, television pilot John Lovelace, will be leading the charge across the country in his Piper Navajo attending the COPA Convention as well as all of the specially selected official venues already mentioned. The plan was to get 100 pilots to accompany him (your writer included) but we now have greater than number in aircraft count alone! The entire journey will be filmed for a television special airing across North America late in 2009 with footage also being used for “The Aviators,” a new weekly television series that will premiere in the fall of 2010. The 100+ aircraft from various official launch points across Canada will take part in some or all of the historic coast to coast journey making stops at venues along the way until arriving at Baddeck for the grand closing ceremonies. Participants will be welcomed as celebrities at each of the official venues. Community members, pilots, and enthusiasts of all ages will be invited to join in on the many celebrations that will be planned.

We’d like to extend our thanks to all Century Flight participants, volunteers across the country, and well- wishers everywhere as we embark on this journey of a lifetime!

Fly safe(r).

Out of the Blue

Wed, 1 Jul 2009 17:05:35 -0400

As would usually be the case on a good VFR weekend our pilot and his wife, both pilots, were taking their Katana DA20-A1 on one of their favorite flights from Ottawa, Ontario (CYOW) to Lachute, Quebec (CSE4) for breakfast. Lachute, a small general aviation airport in the Montreal, Quebec area, is a favorite destination for them because there are plenty of open fields en route (just in case), a relatively low volume of traffic east of Ottawa, a friendly staff, and great breakfasts. They also provide a free taxi service into town and bikes if you want to get some exercise on your way there.  As usual, after departing CYOW, Ottawa Terminal ATC cleared our pilots to their cruising altitude of 3000 feet on a heading of 095 toward Dalkeith, Ontario. This would take them south of the Hawkesbury gliding area. Not abnormal for this altitude, Ottawa Terminal lost radar contact approximately 25 nautical miles east of Ottawa.  The usual routine would normally have our pilots switch to the en route frequency for about 15 minutes without radar and traffic coverage followed by a call to Montreal center once a little closer to Montreal to continue with flight following. On this particular Sunday, however, Ottawa Terminal suggested that our pilots contact Montreal center immediately for flight following which, while very unusual for this route, was very much appreciated by our pilots.  Five minutes later they received a traffic advisory from Montreal center pointing out traffic heading their way at 3 o'clock, 5 nautical miles and 2,600 feet - unconfirmed. Thanking ATC for the call, our pilots started the search for the traffic.  “My wife, the eagle eye, picked up the aircraft almost instantly but I did not see it until it was about 2 miles south of our position” informs our gentleman pilot. “This high wing Cessna eventually passed directly below our low wing Katana with approximately 400 feet of vertical separation on would have been (if not for the 400 foot buffer) an absolute 90 degree collision course!”  Our pilot asks “With two pilots in our plane at all times we are both diligent in looking for traffic but I wonder how much longer it would have taken us to see this Cessna without the help of Montreal center ATC giving us the "heads-up" while it was still 5 miles out? How long was before the Cessna even saw us?”  Continues our pilot “While there really was little danger with 400 feet of vertical separation and the aircraft clearly in sight it does reinforce the idea that proper scanning techniques are a must and that the little airplane/big sky theory really doesn't wash even when you are flying in areas of very low traffic with 15 SM VFR visibility.”  Our pilot concludes “We'd like to thank all of the ATC staff who help us every day and let them know that VFR pilots really do appreciate flight following at all times when their time and workloads permit.”  I’ll second that!  Fly safe(r).

Heaven's Door

Mon, 1 Jun 2009 17:45:42 -0400

“If you’ve never had a near-death experience, I’m here to tell you it’s something that lives with you for a while. In fact, I’ve been thinking about how lucky, blessed, charmed, or whatever it is I am ever since” confesses our pilot.  About two weeks prior to that Saturday, he had promised to take his granddaughter Olivia flying for her eighth birthday. The weather hadn’t been cooperating for a couple of weekends in a row, but it was shaping up to be a good day for flying. No bright sun or glaring reflections, lots of high clouds, fairly calm winds, and surprisingly little air traffic. Our pilot told Olivia they were going to fly across the water from Anchorage and he would show her the big piece of land on the other side where her mom and dad were going to build their new house that summer just off Knik Goose Bay Road. She’s played and camped on it with her family over the last year, but had never seen it from the air.  Olivia’s flown with her granddad before and enjoyed it each time, but this day was something special. Today she was going to be his new navigator, taking over for her older sister who now lives out of state most of the year. She was excited. One of her jobs was to learn how to look for and tell our pilot exactly where she saw other planes during the flight. He told her to pretend she’s looking at a clock and tell him at what hour on that clock she saw a plane. “The kid’s smart, so when I tested her skills on this one, I wasn’t surprised that she caught on immediately” our pilot boasts. “Later on she proved those skills when she pointed out a couple of planes I hadn’t seen, although none of them were near us.”  It wasn’t long before they were climbing away from Merrill Field, then out over the waters of Knik Arm and into the Valley. Olivia had been looking for other planes, but soon got caught up watching a few cars crawl along below them. She wondered aloud where they were going and what those tiny people in their yards were doing. It’s not hard to spot them from only fifteen hundred feet or so. Of course, there were always other planes to watch for, too. The Mat-Su Valley has a huge number of airstrips and floatplane lakes, and it’s also a very popular place for new pilots to practice their maneuvers. “It’s heads-up flying all the time.”  They soon found the acreage where Olivia’s family would build their new home and circled it slowly a couple of times. She pointed out the long, sloping hill they had snowmachined and four-wheeled up and down this past winter. At the top, she was able to see the flat area where the house would overlook the entire valley below. Only a plane could afford a better view, and it certainly did.  After doing some sightseeing, the original plan had been to fly to Talkeetna and walk into town for lunch. Since they left Anchorage though, low clouds had formed and they couldn’t see past Willow. “I might be an old pilot, but I’m not a bold one” says our pilot “so it looked like Palmer was going to be our second choice for Olivia’s birthday lunch.”  They turned back to the northeast with Palmer about fifteen miles out. As they passed Wasilla airport at about 1,700 feet our pilot heard another announce that he was inbound for a landing in Wasilla and was four miles northeast – essentially the same direction they were headed. In our pilot’s words, it was “Time to go to work. I told Olivia to watch closely for another airplane that would be coming toward us in just a minute or so and showed her at about what position it would be. She started scanning the sky hard, and so did I. After about two minutes, I began to relax, thinking we’d missed the other plane altogether and that I’d soon hear the pilot somewhere behind us calling his approach into Wasilla. After all, with both of us traveling in the opposite direction at more than 120 miles per hour, he should have been way past us by now. It was obvious we just hadn’t seen him.”  “Suddenly at the two-o’clock position, there it was!” our pilot continues. “Olivia and I both saw the Cessna 172 at the same time. It filled the right windshield and passenger window completely. The plane was already so close to us, I could only see its propeller and the cowling behind it. In barely a second it was on top of us and over.”  “To this day, I don’t know how it missed us or how we missed it” admits our pilot. “There had been no time for any kind of avoidance maneuver, no time to yell, no time to even think. For that brief second, the cockpit seemed incredibly quiet. Everything stopped and both planes seemed frozen in place. Then it was over, and I wasn’t sure it really happened.” “It was probably another two seconds before I thought to turn and look over my shoulder for the other plane. The pilot was just now banking sharply to the left, trying to avoid a collision, but he was way too late. Nonetheless, it was a natural reaction that I well understood. As I turned back to flying my own plane, Olivia exclaimed, “Whoa, Grampa! Did you see that?” I assured her I did as I sat there trying to figure out how we could still be flying.”  Our pilot reflects, “During that split second when we were first startled by the other plane, my life didn’t flash in front of me as others have claimed when confronted by a life-threatening event. But I do recall thinking right then that it was over and that I regretted terribly having my precious granddaughter with me when it happened. I also thought about how and where I might land the plane with whatever severe damage we were about to incur. So many thoughts in just that one second. Then I started coming to grips with the fact that, by some miracle, we were still alive and on our way to Palmer for a lunch that was now going to be very special.”  Olivia and her grandfather had a long walk to lunch after landing in Palmer and a long, grandpa-granddaughter talk along the way. Not about the incident, but about lots of other things. She wasn’t worried about flying home and wasn’t upset about the other plane. In fact, as they were heading back to Anchorage, she asked if they couldn’t stay up just a little bit longer. When they returned home, she excitedly told her mom and dad about their day. Our pilot admits “I flinched, though, when she said “… and this other plane almost hit us. Boy, was grandpa ever mad!” Oops. I was hoping she forgot. Funny, I don’t remember being mad at all. I trust I didn’t say anything inappropriate in front of an eight-year old. In any case, whether she realizes it or not, Olivia and I now have a special bond.”  “Over the years, I’ve learned to minimize the potential dangers of flying to my passengers because, in all reality, they are just that – potential dangers” concludes our pilot. “They only materialize if a pilot lets things get out of hand or is careless. I will admit, however, that once in a while it’s just your time to go. Let’s face it: you can do everything right in life and still come up short. But so will your life if you let it stop you from doing what you love. Olivia and I may have been knockin’ on heaven’s door that day, but it obviously wasn’t time for them to let us in. We’ve got a lot of flying left to do.”  Fly safe(r).

It Takes All Kinds

Fri, 1 May 2009 14:13:29 -0400

During a recent autumn weekend our pilot and his wife decided to take advantage of the beautiful day and enjoy a leisurely flight to Heber City, Utah to visit friends and proudly show off them their bright red Kitfox. They took their time performing their pre-flight checks breaking up the tasks now and again to chat with friends that had casually stopped by to visit.  As they departed Ogden airspace east through Weber Canyon they marveled at the colors of fall – red and yellow showing bright in the clear skies. Up East Canyon and over Park City they had nothing but smooth air and no traffic.  Approaching Heber City, our pilot announced his position crossing over Jardenell Dam (a 10 mile checkpoint) and his intentions to enter the Heber airspace. After having immediately received reports back from three aircraft in the pattern, our pilot confirmed the pattern in use and verified the intent of each aircraft to stay in the circuit.  At 5 miles our pilot announced his intent to cross midfield to enter the pattern left downwind. Each aircraft responded with their positions. When he called out again at 2 miles, a departing aircraft offered to extend their upwind to make room.  In our pilot’s words “We announced our arrival at one half mile and each of the aircraft were in the position they said. As they were calling out, my wife was pointing to each aircraft. The departing aircraft was indeed extending, one was calling final, and the third was just announcing base when my wife pointed to it. Suddenly there was a cowling and prop in our vision! It was really close – close enough to see all the colors on the wing.”  Continues our pilot “Instinctively I rolled right 90 degrees while blurting on the radio “PITTS!” The biplane rolled right and passed us closer than I ever want to be again. On the ground the Pitts pilot’s wife told us he felt that the other pilots were too chatty and he hated to communicate.”  Our pilot concludes “On our way home that evening, my wife calmly asked me how much a traffic advisory system cost.”  I remember a couple of years ago at a trade show a pilot approached me to discuss my column and collision avoidance. The conversation included the subject of transponders since both active and passive collision avoidance systems rely on transponder responses from target aircraft. The visiting pilot almost proudly revealed that while his aircraft does have a working transponder, he never turns it on exclaiming “I don’t want them in my business knowing where I am and what I’m doing!”  Despite my impression that this was more a statement of privacy rather than an admission to conceal some sort of illicit activity, I was nevertheless taken aback by the comment as someone who enjoys the benefits of technology and feels an obligation to be mindful of best practices as they pertain to our collective safety and well being.  It’s important to remember that NORDO is certainly legal and transponders are only required in certain airspace classifications. There’s nothing legally wrong with flying without each of these in the right circumstances – though I personally can’t even imagine it, particularly in busy airspace. But it seems odd to me that someone would choose to deliberately NOT use the equipment that is readily at their disposal that could help to make a given situation easier to manage and safer for everyone.  It takes all kinds (usually with reference to the OTHER guy). Heads up my friends.  Fly safe(r).

Headsets and Gear

Wed, 15 Apr 2009 18:04:37 -0400

Okay, I’ll fess up. I’m a techie and a gadget geek. Guilty as charged. There are some consequences that come along with such a tag. Firstly, one must have a willingness to accept some measure of cable clutter. On my glaresheild I have my SPOT, my PCAS XRX, and the XM antenna puck for my 696. Fortunately, I have managed to run the cables along the edge of the glaresheild which really helps to keep things a little neater.  The other cross to bear being one prone to “cockpit-bling” is suffering from OCS – overactive credit card syndrome! Many pilot gadgets are downright expensive (but often well worth it) but you’d be surprised at the low price of some others. It’s really more about the value of the item than the cost, but determining that can be the real challenge. Hopefully this article helps.  This month we will take a look at some headsets and other pilot gear that I’ve used personally for extended periods and will recommend based on my experience with them.  SPOT  Much has been written in recent months about the functional demise of 121.5 MHz ELTs and the introduction of new laws (in Canada anyway) requiring 406 MHz ELTs. Some lobby groups were pushing for the little orange portable satellite messenger and tracking device known as SPOT to serve some degree of compliance with the new regulations. The short answer to that was “No.” So with that aside, what value does the SPOT have if not to eliminate the need for a new transponder?
The key purpose of SPOT is to send a distress signal  and trigger a search and rescue response in even the  most remote environment. The signal is sent up to space  and over to a monitoring center where rescue services  are dispatched to your exact GPS coordinates. But like  an ELT, this is a service you hope to never actually use.  Tracking, on the other hand, is a SPOT feature that can  be used on virtually every flight. By activating tracking  mode, SPOT transmits your GPS coordinates every 10  minutes. Friends and family can keep an eye on your  flight by visiting a website where your SPOT trail is  shown on a Google map. This feature has a fairly high  “neat” factor (geek alert!).
There’s also non-emergency messaging where the SPOT  sends a predetermined message by email or SMS to your  list of contacts. This is a great way to send a quick “We’ve arrived okay” message from areas without cell phone coverage.

SPOT has a street price of about $150. The emergency response subscription costs $99 a year and the tracking service is an additional $49 a year. Over the long term the subscription costs may add up, but I think the tracking service alone is worth it.

PCAS

Full disclosure: FourPoints owns and operates PCAS.ca, the Canadian distributor of  Zaon Flight Systems PCAS (Portable Collision Avoidance Systems)

As I say in my column Close Calls, mid-air collisions are rare, but close calls occur far  too often. This is why I have become such a collision avoidance advocate. Quite simply,  those who fly with PCAS tell me time and time again that they’ll never again fly without it.

Collision avoidance comes in two basic types: active and passive. Active systems interrogate nearby transponders, listen for responses, then display those targets for the pilot. Passive systems rely on ground radar or overflying active systems to provide the initial interrogation but similarly listen for responses, and provide target data to the pilot. Since active systems are significantly more expensive, we will discuss the two grades of passive systems.

The PCAS XRX provides target distance, relative altitude, and quadrant bearing information. It tracks up to 10 targets and displays the top 3. The XRX has the ability to display traffic data on TIS-capable GPS displays such as the Garmin 396/496/495 and 696/695. The XRX has recently been reduced to US$1395.

The PCAS MRX is less feature packed, but a fantastic value at US$489. It does not have the ability to integrate with GPSs nor does it provide bearing information. But it does show the distance and relative altitude of your top threat. The MRX is about the size of a deck of cards and runs approximately 7 hours on two AA batteries. Perfect for the student or rental pilot.

When I was introduced to PCAS a few years ago, it wasn’t more than a few flights before I realized that I may not always have been alone on those quiet solitary flights. PCAS may not be perfect, but when it points out traffic that you’d never have caught yourself, that’s when you’ll truly realize its value.

GPS

Well, Garmin takes the cake with another leading entry in the x96 series: the GPSmap 696. This amazing GPS features a huge 7 inch screen, approach plates, split screen display, a simply to use joystick, and just about every possible GPS feature you could want. But it all comes at a price. US$3295 to be exact. You can get most of that same functionality, minus the XM weather and music, in the GPSmap 695 for a slightly more affordable US$2695.

Believe it or not though, the 696 does not necessarily obsolete the 496. The GPSmap 496 is still a highly capable GPS powerhouse that might be more suited to users demanding a smaller unit. It has that 3.75 inch screen that I’m sure most of you have seen as well as many of the same traditional features Garmin has become known for. The 496 sells for US$2395 and its XM-less counterpart, the 495, can be had for an impressive US$1595.

The newest addition to the portable GPS game is the Bendix-King AV8OR. The most junior in the AV8OR line can be found for around US$650. Garmin has nothing to fear though. Comparing the AV8OR to the 696 or even 496 is like comparing a 2008 Cirrus SR-22 to a 1966 Cessna 150. Not knocking anything here, but clearly two completely different things.

Shortly after its release last year at Oshkosh, the AV8OR was found to be a little buggy. A few updates later, many of these bugs have been addressed but my overall impression of the AV8OR was that it was perhaps better as a backup portable or a secondary GPS than a primary one.

The AV8OR probably is better suited to compete with the Lowrance line than Garmin. Lowrance offers capable GPSs with a price point that’s more attractive to many. I personally find Garmin’s user interface to be more intuitive and have never much liked Lowrance even though I hold on to the AirMap 500 I picked up for a song on eBay – just in case. For the budget GPS shopper, I’d recommend a Garmin GPSmap 296 for US$995. I’d consider the AV8OR or Lowrance only if even the 296 is more than what you’d prefer to spend.

RAM Mounts

Having all of these wonderful gadgets is good and well but they all need to find a home in your cockpit. Garmin has recently adopted my beloved RAM Mounts as the mount of choice for the 696 and 695. There are also RAM Mounts for PCAS, SPOT, and XM antennas.

RAM Mounts come in as many shapes and sizes as you can dream up. I usually describe them thusly: just determine exactly where you want your gadget or accessory to be in the end state and there are RAM components to make it end up there.

There are various cradles for virtually every kind of GPS or other electronic device as well as a wide variety of arms and necks. But the real creativity is in the base mounts. Favorites include the surprisingly strong suction cup mount and the popular yoke mount. There’s also a clamp for the edge of the glaresheild, a bar that can be installed between seat rails, and of course several simple mounts that can be screwed or bolted in place to serve as a stable base.

RAM Mounts are very affordable, extremely versatile, widely available, and are being adopted by more and more electronics manufacturers and resellers.

Headsets

I have flown wearing the Bose Aviation Headset X for years. But that long and satisfying streak ended last year when Lightspeed introduced their Zulu. Many have tried to dethrone Bose from their perennial position as "the #1 headset" and as a recent convert myself, I believe Lightspeed has done just that.

Both headsets are incredibly light and comfortable and can quite easily be worn for many hours on end. The ear cups on the Bose's are slightly more visually appealing with their minimalist design but the ear cups on the Lightspeed are markedly smaller than some earlier models like their Thirty 3G's which made me look a little like Stewie Griffin from TV's "Family Guy."

It's that design, however, that makes the Zulu's far superior to Bose in terms of passive noise reduction. But in my opinion that really shouldn't be a determining factor. With both headsets providing battery life of about 40 hours, any reasonably prepared pilot should be able to muster up a spare pair of AA's after a several hours of low battery warnings.

It's the quality of the active noise reduction (ANR) that really matters - and both of these headsets offer simply incredible noise reduction. I'd go as far as saying that they're neck and neck when it comes to ANR.

What really sets the Zulu apart are the additional features clearly designed to appeal to the gadget-prone. There's an audio jack for MP3 players or XM radio and an interesting sound enhancement known as Front Row Center. There's even Bluetooth so you can connect your audio devices or cell phone wirelessly! All of this combined with comfort, impressive ANR, and a price tag of US$850 (versus US$995 for the Bose) makes the Zulu the new king of headsets.

But what about the opposite end of the spectrum? If you're in the market for a passenger headset that may only be worn once in a while and you can't justify spending hundreds of dollars, then the GCA 9T from Gulf Coast Avionics is for you. This is a solid passive headset that you'll find for less than $100. They're comfortable enough to be worn for a few hours at a time and noise reduction is pretty darn good considering the low price.

Radio Silence

Wed, 1 Apr 2009 20:00:23 -0400

Our pilot was a relatively new aircraft owner with almost 200 hours total time under his belt. In that time he’s had what he considers two close calls, both of which he believes could have been avoided by other pilots making simple position reports.  It was the previous summer when our pilot started flying his Cessna 185 amphibian. He trained with one of the senior pilots of his flight school (who had about 20,000 hours of float flying experience) as well as a friend with about 5,000 hours of 185 float time. He had also flown a great deal with a rotary pilot with 20,000 hours, much of it flying in remote areas.  “All of the people training me have drilled in the importance of position reports regardless of whether you think someone is listening or not – especially in remote areas” says our pilot. “I have been in remote areas where I’m almost certain no one else has been around but still do frequent position reports.”  One afternoon last August our pilot was flying from Vancouver to the north end of Pitt Lake, BC. When clear of Pitt Meadows he switched his main radio to 123.20 while monitoring Pitt traffic on the tower frequency. Our pilot recalls making at least four calls from the south end of the lake starting at Grant Narrows advising of altitude, direction, position, and intended path en route (i.e. west side of the lake northbound). On this particular day after his second call at Goose Island at about the middle of Pitt Lake our pilot reached back to his flight bag to grab his sunglasses – only for a moment. Within seconds of resuming his scan, much to his shock he observed coming at him in a climbing attitude off his right side a white high wing float aircraft on a collision course!  With the conflict aircraft only about 200 feet away our pilot immediately banked left to avoid a collision. The other aircraft did the same. “I radioed the other aircraft asking why they did not report their position and got no response” our pilot recalls. “The aircraft made no radio calls afterwards as it proceeded south.”  The second incident occurred while our pilot was returning from a visit to Princess Louisa Inlet with his two children. From the top of Sechelt Inlet to Salmon Inlet he made at least four position reports. His second radio was monitoring Sechelt on 123.35 and as he passed Salmon Inlet southeast bound towards Porpoise Bay he made one last call on 123.20 announcing that he’d be switching to the Sechelt frequency. Now on the Sechelt frequency while still monitoring 123.20 our pilot announced his intention to turn east towards Gower Point at 500 feet. When he completed the turn, a commercial Beaver aircraft passed on his left just 200 feet away at the same altitude but in the opposite direction!  “The other pilot started speaking aggressively to me on 123.20, not 123.35” remembers our pilot. “I switched to 123.20 and responded that I had reported my intention only moments earlier (within 15-30 seconds) on Sechelt frequency and advised him I heard no position reports on 123.20 from the Beaver. I was receiving traffic reports from a Mooney operating at Sechelt but nothing from the Beaver prior to the close call. I reported this incident to the owner of the commercial operation.”  “I make position reports to the point of being annoying sometimes as taught by the seasoned pilots who have trained me.” Continues our pilot, “Disappointingly, I have observed many other aircraft in no-conflict situations not making calls at all in busy areas. As a result of these incidents I am shopping for a TCAS system but am not totally convinced of the Zaon product. I would like to get the Avidyne starter unit but it is about $10,000 plus installation.”  Our pilot concludes “Until then I will rely on good radio work and good scanning to protect me. As part of my passenger briefing I also now strongly encourage them to scan and report any conflicts or concerns. I remind them to do so throughout the flight. I hope you can encourage all pilots to be more active on the radios especially in the busier areas.”  I’ll say it again – the combination of a diligent radio work, a keen lookout, flight following, and technological aids (be that a $10-$20K active system or a passive system at less than 1/10th the price) gives us our best chances of traffic safety in flight. Relying on the other guy to do the right thing? Not so much.  Fly safe(r).

Dumb Luck

Sun, 1 Mar 2009 20:04:00 -0500

There has recently been much attention paid to mid-air collisions of a different sort. Those between aircraft and U.F.O.’s – Unidentified Feathered Objects. Bird strike incidents have resulted in consequences ranging from a dent in the airplane to shattering of the windshield, incapacitation of the pilot and even fatalities. Most recently, an Airbus was rendered disabled by birds shortly after takeoff resulting in a ditching into New York’s Hudson River. The Miracle on the Hudson, as the flight is now known, yielded only a few relatively minor injuries due in no small part to the courageous efforts of the crew.  This month in Close Calls our pilot describes an incident he experienced with feathered flying objects that had resulted in zero damage, “Not because of my superior piloting skills,” he humbly notes “but because I was lucky, period.”  It happened in the darkness very early one morning, a couple of hours before sunrise. Our pilot was heading out early in order to land at Chibougamau, Quebec just before the gas pumps opened there so that he’d arrive in Kuujjuaq, Nunavut (in Canada’s north) later that same day before their pumps closed. After a nominal run-up and taxi onto the active runway, he made his radio calls and pushed in the throttle. Everything initially seemed normal during the takeoff roll. All the gauges were in the green but then he noticed his airspeed indicator was oddly reading zero. A glance to the left confirmed the reason – he hadn’t removed the pitot tube cover!  Our pilot performed his pre-flight walk around with a first time passenger following along and asking questions about the trip. This distraction was probably the reason for the missed the pitot tube cover. Recalling his thoughts during the takeoff roll after discovering the position of the pitot tube cover, our pilot reflects “Well, in a millisecond these thoughts went through my brain – ‘Can I get away with it? It’s a long trip over the Quebec trees, should I take the chance? NO DUMMY – ABORT!!!!’”  Our pilot pulled back on the throttle and coasted to a stop. As he was decelerating, he rolled through about 40 geese on the runway that were totally invisible to him until they were figuratively rubbing elbows! “No collisions, but they all had to scramble to miss me, I had nowhere to go to avoid them” says our pilot. “Whew… that was close. If I had continued with the take-off I most probably would have plowed through the bunch of them at over 90 knots!!!! I was lucky.”  What could our pilot have done differently? “Well, aside from the pitot tube cover, I should have done a complete backtrack of the runway before I attempted the take-off” responds our pilot. “I knew geese loved to stay the night at the airport. So, my stupid luck of leaving the pitot cover on saved me from a collision!”  Fate’s sometimes funny that way, isn’t it?  Fly safe(r).