Uh-oh... Looks like an American Airlines Boeing 737 suffered a runway excursion at Kingston, Jamaica today. Early reports indicate there was heavy rain at the airport, so hydroplaning could've been a factor. Looks like there was either a loss of directional control on landing and/or a runway overrun. The great news: No serious injuries have been reported!
More on this later...
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
You Snooze, You Lose
The FAA ordered an emergency revocation of the airline transport pilot certificates of the two pilots of Northwest 188 immediately following the October 21 incident. The pilots stated they were "distracted by their laptop computers." Yeah, right. Maybe they were dreaming about their laptop computers.
Whatever the case in the cockpit of that A320, it's clear the pilots became complacent. They had probably flown that route hundreds of times before. They thought it was a routine operation and that the flight would follow the same progression as previous flights. It did not. The pilots failed to maintain the high degree of vigilance required during air operations and placed hundreds of innocent people at tremendous risk. The fact that no one was hurt can be attributed to dumb luck.
Complacency kills. There's no place where that's more true than an airplane. The pilots of Northwest 188 were experienced, yet they failed in a very basic and fundamental way. All the experience in the world doesn't make a pilot immune to death by airplane. Most pilots have heard the story of the two Civil Air Patrol ATPs that flew a Cessna 182 into a mountainside near Las Vegas in 2007. That's stuff pilots learn how to avoid in the infancy of their pilot careers. Hours in a logbook made no difference that night at Mount Potosi. I'd argue all those hours even worked against these pilots by breeding complacency.
One of the world's best and most competent pilots, Richard L. Collins, has said, "Hours in a logbook aren't important because the most important hour is the next one." The next hour you spend in an airplane is the only one that has the power to kill you, and it will do so without hesitation if you allow it. Sometimes years of logbook pages only amount to blatant disregard and disrespect for the basics of aviation safety. It's as though some pilots think of hours in a logbook as a form of body armor which will protect a pilot from death in a crash. The truth is, a twenty thousand hour pilot is just as vulnerable to the risks of flight as a thousand hour pilot.
That thunderstorm in the windscreen doesn't care how many hours you have written on pages in some logbook. That mountain lurking in the night won't be any more forgiving to an experienced pilot, and an in-flight fire will feel just as hot to an airline pilot as a student pilot.
The risks stay present no matter how long or how far you fly. Risks don't diminish as logbook pages are filled. The dangers of flight don't discriminate between young and old, inexperienced or experienced, routine or nonstandard... We're all vulnerable. No one is exempt or immune from the risks of flight.
Remember the expression, "Stay alert. Stay alive." If you stay vigilant each hour you fly, you'll survive each hour you fly. Relax or become arrogant and the airplane won't tolerate it. The inherent dangers of flight will reach up and snatch you when you least expect it.
One of my favorite things about flying airplanes is the requirement to focus solely on the task at hand. I love how airplanes hold me accountable for that each moment I'm in them, and if I stray the airplane will remind me to re-focus because there's a lot at stake. Remember, all those hours in your past won't protect you from the most important hour, the next one.
Whatever the case in the cockpit of that A320, it's clear the pilots became complacent. They had probably flown that route hundreds of times before. They thought it was a routine operation and that the flight would follow the same progression as previous flights. It did not. The pilots failed to maintain the high degree of vigilance required during air operations and placed hundreds of innocent people at tremendous risk. The fact that no one was hurt can be attributed to dumb luck.
Complacency kills. There's no place where that's more true than an airplane. The pilots of Northwest 188 were experienced, yet they failed in a very basic and fundamental way. All the experience in the world doesn't make a pilot immune to death by airplane. Most pilots have heard the story of the two Civil Air Patrol ATPs that flew a Cessna 182 into a mountainside near Las Vegas in 2007. That's stuff pilots learn how to avoid in the infancy of their pilot careers. Hours in a logbook made no difference that night at Mount Potosi. I'd argue all those hours even worked against these pilots by breeding complacency.
One of the world's best and most competent pilots, Richard L. Collins, has said, "Hours in a logbook aren't important because the most important hour is the next one." The next hour you spend in an airplane is the only one that has the power to kill you, and it will do so without hesitation if you allow it. Sometimes years of logbook pages only amount to blatant disregard and disrespect for the basics of aviation safety. It's as though some pilots think of hours in a logbook as a form of body armor which will protect a pilot from death in a crash. The truth is, a twenty thousand hour pilot is just as vulnerable to the risks of flight as a thousand hour pilot.
That thunderstorm in the windscreen doesn't care how many hours you have written on pages in some logbook. That mountain lurking in the night won't be any more forgiving to an experienced pilot, and an in-flight fire will feel just as hot to an airline pilot as a student pilot.
The risks stay present no matter how long or how far you fly. Risks don't diminish as logbook pages are filled. The dangers of flight don't discriminate between young and old, inexperienced or experienced, routine or nonstandard... We're all vulnerable. No one is exempt or immune from the risks of flight.
Remember the expression, "Stay alert. Stay alive." If you stay vigilant each hour you fly, you'll survive each hour you fly. Relax or become arrogant and the airplane won't tolerate it. The inherent dangers of flight will reach up and snatch you when you least expect it.
One of my favorite things about flying airplanes is the requirement to focus solely on the task at hand. I love how airplanes hold me accountable for that each moment I'm in them, and if I stray the airplane will remind me to re-focus because there's a lot at stake. Remember, all those hours in your past won't protect you from the most important hour, the next one.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Right-of-Way, The Right Way!
"Niner Four Charlie, traffic 12 o'clock, one mile, climbing through 2,100, opposite direction, a Cessna." That's the kind of traffic advisory that gets your attention. I was approaching the downwind at forty-five degrees for landing at my home base and was level at pattern altitude, 2,100 feet. I spotted the Cessna, less than a mile away and converging head-on with me. My brain unlocked the right-of-way rules folder which had been stored away for quite some time and was accumulating some dust. "Head-on, give way to the right," I recalled. I rolled into thirty degrees of right bank. The pilot of the Cessna evidently did not have right-of-way rules stored in his brain, or at least not correctly, because as I rolled right, he rolled left. From my seat, his airplane looked like a heat-seeking missile chasing after me! A quick roll back to the left and away from the Cessna remedied the situation, and I landed uneventfully.
This happened to me quite a few years ago, and since then I've never again encountered a head-on convergence situation. Few pilots do, and that's why right-of-way rules fall out of our brains after many years of disuse. But you'll need to know where to turn, possibly on short notice, in the event you do come near another aircraft. Don't make a mistake like the pilot of the Cessna did and interfere with evasive maneuver attempts by the other aircraft. Let's review a few of the key right-of-way rules:
This happened to me quite a few years ago, and since then I've never again encountered a head-on convergence situation. Few pilots do, and that's why right-of-way rules fall out of our brains after many years of disuse. But you'll need to know where to turn, possibly on short notice, in the event you do come near another aircraft. Don't make a mistake like the pilot of the Cessna did and interfere with evasive maneuver attempts by the other aircraft. Let's review a few of the key right-of-way rules:
- Remember, when converging with another aircraft head-on, always give way to the RIGHT.
- When converging with an aircraft of the same category other than head-on, the aircraft on the RIGHT has right-of-way (just like at an intersection in a car).
- When approaching an uncontrolled airport for the purpose of landing, the lowest aircraft within similar range of the field has right-of-way (and don't cheat by ducking lower just to cut in line!).
- When converging with an aircraft of a different category, the LEAST maneuverable aircraft has right-of-way (for instance, an airplane must give way to a hot air balloon or glider).
- An aircraft in distress ALWAYS has right-of-way over ALL other aircraft.
Remember also that tower controllers do not separate aircraft in the air; only aircraft on the runways and taxiways (airport movement areas) are positively separated. DO NOT rely on the tower to keep you separated from other traffic. They'll provide traffic advisories if they can, but you're responsible for seeing and avoiding threats all the way down to the runway.
Keep right-of-way rules accessible in your brain so they'll be there if you need them. Next time you need to give another aircraft right-of-way, do it the right way.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Brief or Grief
Instrument Approach Procedures (IAPs) define an area of relatively high risk in instrument flying. The airplane is required to be maneuvered (sometimes extensively) close to the ground while executing course reversals, altitude and airspeed changes, and aircraft configuration changes. Margins between our aircraft and obstructions are reduced drastically in the approach environment. Approach procedures demand a high degree of situational awareness during a high workload and fast-paced phase of flight. There's a lot to think about and to manage, and no two IAPs are alike.
Airline crews have been conducting approach briefings for many years. Approach briefings are becoming common practice in light aircraft as well, as they should. Instrument approaches are no less risky or demanding for small airplanes than they are for jets. In fact, we quite often have lower approach minimums than the bigger, faster guys. The same degree of situational awareness is required, and often GA aircraft aren't equipped with the same level of cockpit automation and avionics as jets, nor do we always have two pilots. This means we need to be even more on our toes than crews of better-equipped jets. If you're not in the habit of conducting a briefing before every approach, here are a few guidelines to create an effective approach briefing.
The objective here is to familiarize yourself with the entire approach procedure long before you get to it. I usually look over anticipated approach plates during my preflight planning on the ground, then I conduct a formal approach briefing when "in range" of my destination, which I define as fifty miles from the airport. For trips less than fifty miles, I'll often brief the approach before takeoff so I'm not rushed in the air and so I don't allow myself to become task saturated during critical phases of flight. Instrument approaches can be very complex, and safe pilots approach them with a well developed plan for how the approach will be flown. Because all approaches are unique, a thorough study of the chart is critical.
Airline crews conduct approach briefings aloud between each other. I recommend conducting your own approach briefings aloud, even if you're the only pilot in the cockpit. Talk to yourself. If you have passengers onboard, let them know beforehand that you'll be going over the approach chart out loud and they don't need to listen. Use a crew isolation button if one is available on your intercom system. It's been proven that when we verbalize things as opposed to thinking them silently, they stick in our minds better. Pretend there's another pilot present if you need to and conduct your briefing.
Always start your approach briefings by positively identifying the approach chart. Chart identification seems excruciatingly obvious, but accidentally pulling the wrong chart can be a simple but deadly mistake. Verify you've selected the proper chart by reviewing the approach title and airport. This is also a good time to verify that you've got the required equipment on board and that it is operating properly. Remember, the equipment the approach requires is listed in the title itself (GPS can be substituted for certain items, such as DME and often ADF). Check the valid date range on the side of the approach chart and verify the chart is current. Any NOTAMs for the approach should've been received during your preflight briefing and marked on the chart.
After you've determined you've got the correct chart in front of you, begin working through the chart from top to bottom. Approach charts (both NACO and Jeppesen) are designed to be reviewed this way to provide the most critical information in logical order. Review the navaid/ground station frequencies, the final approach course, and the runway (if applicable) and elevation information. Work your way down to the notes/remarks section and approach lighting information, then review the communications frequencies.
Now move down to the plan view section. This is a top-down depiction of the approach procedure. First review the minimum safe altitude (MSA) for your sector and study any terrain or obstructions of concern along the approach segments. Determine which initial approach fix (IAF) you'll need to use if not receiving radar vectors, and review the lateral navigation requirements of the approach. Talk through the various approach segments' courses and intercepts, and review the procedure turn if one will be required. It's also good to mention at what points during the approach checklists will be conducted or configuration changes will be made as well as what automation mode will be used if flying with an autopilot.
Next, review the profile section. This section depicts the vertical profile of the procedure and provides altitude guidance. Identify minimum altitudes for all approach segments, and review any step-down fixes. Check the final approach angle to determine whether or not a deviation from a standard 3-degree descent will be necessary. This helps keep you ahead of the game and prepared for the unique considerations of each approach. Review the missed approach point (MAP) and determine how it will be identified (altitude, DME, time, GPS waypoint, etc.).
Arguably the most important step of the briefing comes next: A review of the approach minima. Check the minimums for your aircraft category and also note the required visibility and height above touchdown (or height above airport elevation for circling approaches). Disregard the numbers in parentheses as these are for military use only.
Finally, review the missed approach procedure (graphical and textual descriptions) and determine what type of hold entry will be necessary upon arrival at the missed approach holding fix. If you'll be using time to identify the missed approach point, review this information if its available on the chart. It's also helpful to look at the mini airport diagram and note where the final approach segment intersects the airport (especially if the approach is not straight-in).
When you're finished and satisfied with your review of the approach procedure, say "Approach briefing complete." Remember, in flying what you don't know CAN hurt you. Make sure you've got a thorough understanding of all chart symbology. If you're a bit rusty on chart elements, I highly recommend completing the AOPA Air Safety Foundation's (ASF) online course, "IFR Insights: Charts".
Managing risk during the approach phase is demanding. It subjects us to a complex and high workload task at the end of a flight when our abilities are often deteriorated by fatigue. Having a tactically-sound plan for executing an approach is critical, and conducting a thorough approach briefing is an important step in making an approach go smoothly and safely.
Airline crews have been conducting approach briefings for many years. Approach briefings are becoming common practice in light aircraft as well, as they should. Instrument approaches are no less risky or demanding for small airplanes than they are for jets. In fact, we quite often have lower approach minimums than the bigger, faster guys. The same degree of situational awareness is required, and often GA aircraft aren't equipped with the same level of cockpit automation and avionics as jets, nor do we always have two pilots. This means we need to be even more on our toes than crews of better-equipped jets. If you're not in the habit of conducting a briefing before every approach, here are a few guidelines to create an effective approach briefing.
The objective here is to familiarize yourself with the entire approach procedure long before you get to it. I usually look over anticipated approach plates during my preflight planning on the ground, then I conduct a formal approach briefing when "in range" of my destination, which I define as fifty miles from the airport. For trips less than fifty miles, I'll often brief the approach before takeoff so I'm not rushed in the air and so I don't allow myself to become task saturated during critical phases of flight. Instrument approaches can be very complex, and safe pilots approach them with a well developed plan for how the approach will be flown. Because all approaches are unique, a thorough study of the chart is critical.
Airline crews conduct approach briefings aloud between each other. I recommend conducting your own approach briefings aloud, even if you're the only pilot in the cockpit. Talk to yourself. If you have passengers onboard, let them know beforehand that you'll be going over the approach chart out loud and they don't need to listen. Use a crew isolation button if one is available on your intercom system. It's been proven that when we verbalize things as opposed to thinking them silently, they stick in our minds better. Pretend there's another pilot present if you need to and conduct your briefing.
Always start your approach briefings by positively identifying the approach chart. Chart identification seems excruciatingly obvious, but accidentally pulling the wrong chart can be a simple but deadly mistake. Verify you've selected the proper chart by reviewing the approach title and airport. This is also a good time to verify that you've got the required equipment on board and that it is operating properly. Remember, the equipment the approach requires is listed in the title itself (GPS can be substituted for certain items, such as DME and often ADF). Check the valid date range on the side of the approach chart and verify the chart is current. Any NOTAMs for the approach should've been received during your preflight briefing and marked on the chart.
After you've determined you've got the correct chart in front of you, begin working through the chart from top to bottom. Approach charts (both NACO and Jeppesen) are designed to be reviewed this way to provide the most critical information in logical order. Review the navaid/ground station frequencies, the final approach course, and the runway (if applicable) and elevation information. Work your way down to the notes/remarks section and approach lighting information, then review the communications frequencies.
Now move down to the plan view section. This is a top-down depiction of the approach procedure. First review the minimum safe altitude (MSA) for your sector and study any terrain or obstructions of concern along the approach segments. Determine which initial approach fix (IAF) you'll need to use if not receiving radar vectors, and review the lateral navigation requirements of the approach. Talk through the various approach segments' courses and intercepts, and review the procedure turn if one will be required. It's also good to mention at what points during the approach checklists will be conducted or configuration changes will be made as well as what automation mode will be used if flying with an autopilot.
Next, review the profile section. This section depicts the vertical profile of the procedure and provides altitude guidance. Identify minimum altitudes for all approach segments, and review any step-down fixes. Check the final approach angle to determine whether or not a deviation from a standard 3-degree descent will be necessary. This helps keep you ahead of the game and prepared for the unique considerations of each approach. Review the missed approach point (MAP) and determine how it will be identified (altitude, DME, time, GPS waypoint, etc.).
Arguably the most important step of the briefing comes next: A review of the approach minima. Check the minimums for your aircraft category and also note the required visibility and height above touchdown (or height above airport elevation for circling approaches). Disregard the numbers in parentheses as these are for military use only.
Finally, review the missed approach procedure (graphical and textual descriptions) and determine what type of hold entry will be necessary upon arrival at the missed approach holding fix. If you'll be using time to identify the missed approach point, review this information if its available on the chart. It's also helpful to look at the mini airport diagram and note where the final approach segment intersects the airport (especially if the approach is not straight-in).
When you're finished and satisfied with your review of the approach procedure, say "Approach briefing complete." Remember, in flying what you don't know CAN hurt you. Make sure you've got a thorough understanding of all chart symbology. If you're a bit rusty on chart elements, I highly recommend completing the AOPA Air Safety Foundation's (ASF) online course, "IFR Insights: Charts".
Managing risk during the approach phase is demanding. It subjects us to a complex and high workload task at the end of a flight when our abilities are often deteriorated by fatigue. Having a tactically-sound plan for executing an approach is critical, and conducting a thorough approach briefing is an important step in making an approach go smoothly and safely.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
PIREPs
Ever get home from a flight and check ADDS or DUATS to see if your PIREP was entered correctly, only to find it's not there at all? This has happened to most pilots at least once. It's a bit frustrating because Flight Service Specialists and the FAA are always encouraging us to submit PIREPs as often as possible, not to mention it's required by regulation to report unforecast weather conditions. As pilots, we value PIREPs because they help us put together an accurate picture of the weather conditions that are actually existing. That's why it's a bummer when we go to the trouble of giving reports and then have them get lost in the shuffle.
I once got my butt kicked in mountain wave turbulence while flying in IMC over the Ouchita Mountains in Arkansas. There was no AIRMET or forecast for the turbulence before, during, or after my flight. I made a PIREP to the controller and described the turbulence as "continuous moderate chop." There may've been an occasional "severe" bump or two in there. The controller acknowledged my transmission, I landed and checked ADDS, and my PIREP was nowhere to be found. At least I did my part. I guess the controller didn't do his.
I was browsing through ASRS reports yesterday. That's something I do every so often just to see what kinds of issues pilots are reporting. One pilot made a report about his PIREP not being filed and suggested that the FAA consider implementing an online interface that would allow pilots to enter their own PIREPs once on the ground. You know, that's not a bad idea.
The only problem would be the time delay, but filing a delayed report is better than having your report never make it into the system at all. I could see how an online PIREP system like this could be easily created in DUATS. Seems cheap and feasible.
The best solution, though, would be for controllers (and Flight Service Specialists, although I have a hunch controllers are worse about this because they tend to have higher workloads) to reliably and consistently enter PIREPs into the system every time.
If they want us to give them, they need to let us know they're valued and appreciated. I bet there will be an online PIREP submission system up and running within the next five years. Let's see if I'm right...
I once got my butt kicked in mountain wave turbulence while flying in IMC over the Ouchita Mountains in Arkansas. There was no AIRMET or forecast for the turbulence before, during, or after my flight. I made a PIREP to the controller and described the turbulence as "continuous moderate chop." There may've been an occasional "severe" bump or two in there. The controller acknowledged my transmission, I landed and checked ADDS, and my PIREP was nowhere to be found. At least I did my part. I guess the controller didn't do his.
I was browsing through ASRS reports yesterday. That's something I do every so often just to see what kinds of issues pilots are reporting. One pilot made a report about his PIREP not being filed and suggested that the FAA consider implementing an online interface that would allow pilots to enter their own PIREPs once on the ground. You know, that's not a bad idea.
The only problem would be the time delay, but filing a delayed report is better than having your report never make it into the system at all. I could see how an online PIREP system like this could be easily created in DUATS. Seems cheap and feasible.
The best solution, though, would be for controllers (and Flight Service Specialists, although I have a hunch controllers are worse about this because they tend to have higher workloads) to reliably and consistently enter PIREPs into the system every time.
If they want us to give them, they need to let us know they're valued and appreciated. I bet there will be an online PIREP submission system up and running within the next five years. Let's see if I'm right...
Sunday, October 25, 2009
NWA 188
Last Wednesday a Northwest Airlines Airbus A320 overflew its intended destination airport by at least 150 miles before reversing course and proceeding inbound to land. The A320 was operating as Northwest Flight 188 with service from San Diego to Minneapolis/St. Paul (MSP). What the heck happened?
We're not sure yet. After landing the crew was interviewed by the FBI and airport police at which time they admitted they were in a heated conversation about airline policy which caused a loss of situational awareness on the flight deck. If that's true, the conversation must've been pretty darn heated because it takes a colossal episode of inattention to fly beyond the TOD (top of descent) point, then continue flying for another 250-300 miles while missing repeated calls from air traffic control. I don't fly A320s, but every modern airline jet that I know of will automatically alert the crew in some way, even if minimally, when the TOD is reached without a descent being initiated. That means the crew of Flight 188 had to ignore messages from both their aircraft and ATC for hundreds of miles.
Were both pilots asleep? Maybe. The pilots denied this during interviews, but it doesn't sound impossible to me. The aircraft's cockpit voice recorder (CVR) will be reviewed and we'll find out what really happened to cause such an extraordinary foul up.
People wonder, were the passengers at risk? Of course! No matter what the case was on the flight deck, sleeping pilots, arguing pilots, whatever, there was no one in command of that aircraft for hundreds of miles. That has all sorts of implications on flight safety. The pilots could've missed a developing mechanical problem as they were obviously not actively monitoring the aircraft's systems, a low fuel situation could've developed, the aircraft could've wandered even further off course, or any number of other dangerous situations could've developed.
Any pilot incompetent enough to allow something like this to happen is probably stupid enough to lie about it too. Luckily, the CVR will reveal the truth. More regulations are certain to be born at the conclusion of this investigation about cockpit crew conduct during cruise flight. When a couple of clowns screw up, it creates a mess and new restrictions for the rest of us, including the good guys.
We're not sure yet. After landing the crew was interviewed by the FBI and airport police at which time they admitted they were in a heated conversation about airline policy which caused a loss of situational awareness on the flight deck. If that's true, the conversation must've been pretty darn heated because it takes a colossal episode of inattention to fly beyond the TOD (top of descent) point, then continue flying for another 250-300 miles while missing repeated calls from air traffic control. I don't fly A320s, but every modern airline jet that I know of will automatically alert the crew in some way, even if minimally, when the TOD is reached without a descent being initiated. That means the crew of Flight 188 had to ignore messages from both their aircraft and ATC for hundreds of miles.
Were both pilots asleep? Maybe. The pilots denied this during interviews, but it doesn't sound impossible to me. The aircraft's cockpit voice recorder (CVR) will be reviewed and we'll find out what really happened to cause such an extraordinary foul up.
People wonder, were the passengers at risk? Of course! No matter what the case was on the flight deck, sleeping pilots, arguing pilots, whatever, there was no one in command of that aircraft for hundreds of miles. That has all sorts of implications on flight safety. The pilots could've missed a developing mechanical problem as they were obviously not actively monitoring the aircraft's systems, a low fuel situation could've developed, the aircraft could've wandered even further off course, or any number of other dangerous situations could've developed.
Any pilot incompetent enough to allow something like this to happen is probably stupid enough to lie about it too. Luckily, the CVR will reveal the truth. More regulations are certain to be born at the conclusion of this investigation about cockpit crew conduct during cruise flight. When a couple of clowns screw up, it creates a mess and new restrictions for the rest of us, including the good guys.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
"I Knew I Could Do It."
I had the honor and privilege of meeting Captain Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger this evening in Kansas City. Captain Sullenberger came into town to promote his new book and talk a little about the events of January 15, 2009, the day that changed his life forever.As Sully described the events of the famous Hudson ditching, he said something that struck me. The interviewer reviewed the difficult situation Sully was faced with while descending toward the Hudson and asked Sully what went through his mind that day, and Sully said, "I knew I could do it."
He did do it. Exactly as it needed to be done.
For pilots, visualizing the circumstances we wish to create is important. "Armchair flying" has been around for years -- the process of sitting in a chair, closing your eyes, and visualizing yourself in an airplane going through the motions of an upcoming mission. The Blue Angels Navy flight demonstration team performs this exercise as a group before every show. The pilots sit in a circle, close their eyes, and hold an imaginary stick and throttle as the leader talks through the routine.
By visualizing where we want to go or what we want to do, we're paving the road in our brains that our outside experience will soon follow. Captain Sullenberger knew what he needed to do, and he knew he could do it. His Airbus 320 followed the path to a successful outcome that his mind had already laid out.
When faced with an in-flight emergency, know that you can do it too. Visualize the circumstances you must create in order to survive, then carry out what needs to be done to bring those circumstances about. Panic comes from thinking you might not be able to survive, and unfortunately, pilots who doubt their ability to pull through an in-flight emergency often don't make it.
Superior airmanship means staying calm, being confident, thinking positively, and remaining in charge of even the most difficult situation. Sully did these things, and so can you.
By visualizing where we want to go or what we want to do, we're paving the road in our brains that our outside experience will soon follow. Captain Sullenberger knew what he needed to do, and he knew he could do it. His Airbus 320 followed the path to a successful outcome that his mind had already laid out.
When faced with an in-flight emergency, know that you can do it too. Visualize the circumstances you must create in order to survive, then carry out what needs to be done to bring those circumstances about. Panic comes from thinking you might not be able to survive, and unfortunately, pilots who doubt their ability to pull through an in-flight emergency often don't make it.
Superior airmanship means staying calm, being confident, thinking positively, and remaining in charge of even the most difficult situation. Sully did these things, and so can you.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Line Up and Wait
Have you heard? There's a change in ATC phraseology coming...
"Taxi into position and hold" clearances will soon be a thing of the past. The United States is changing "position and hold" phraseology to match International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) standards. The long-used ICAO phraseology, "line up and wait" will soon be adopted by The States. "Line up and wait" has been used for years in the United Kingdom and other countries. The new phraseology has the same meaning as "position and hold" clearances.
While I'm on the subject, let me throw a few "line up and wait" safety reminders your way.
In 1991, a US Airways B737 collided with a Skywest Airlines Metroliner on Runway 24 Left at Los Angeles International Airport. It was night, and the 737 was cleared to land on Runway 24 Left when ATC cleared the Skywest Metroliner to "position and hold" on the same runway. ATC forgot to issue takeoff clearance to the Metroliner, and the 737 collided in-flight with the Metroliner killing thirty-four people.
After this tragic accident pilots have been encouraged to exercise vigilance during "position and hold" operations and to query ATC after holding in position for sixty seconds with no updates. Never sit with your back turned to an active approach corridor for more than a minute without speaking up. ATC may've forgotten about you. Do your best to monitor the frequency and create a mental picture of where each aircraft is around you. One of the reasons we're all on the same frequency is so we can benefit from the "party line" and listen to where other aircraft are and what they're doing. I've also heard guidance about positioning your aircraft at a forty-five degree angle to the runway centerline to enable you to check final behind you while waiting for takeoff clearance. That seems hit-or-miss to me for a few reasons: It might not be feasible for larger aircraft, valuable runway distance will be used during the mis-alignment and subsequent re-alignment before takeoff, and the re-alignment process prior to the application of takeoff power requires a slight delay on the runway (which reduces the effectiveness of "position and hold" operations in the first place). But, at least you'll have the reassurance of being able to check for yourself to see if there's traffic behind you. And at night on a runway equipped with centerline lighting, line up slightly offset from the centerline to make your aircraft lights easier to distinguish from the centerline lights to traffic on final.
Remember, sitting with your back turned to final on an active runway is a vulnerable position to be in. Don't be afraid to query ATC if you start to feel uneasy. And don't be caught off guard the first time you're told to "line up and wait." The new phraseology is coming soon!
"Taxi into position and hold" clearances will soon be a thing of the past. The United States is changing "position and hold" phraseology to match International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) standards. The long-used ICAO phraseology, "line up and wait" will soon be adopted by The States. "Line up and wait" has been used for years in the United Kingdom and other countries. The new phraseology has the same meaning as "position and hold" clearances.
While I'm on the subject, let me throw a few "line up and wait" safety reminders your way.
In 1991, a US Airways B737 collided with a Skywest Airlines Metroliner on Runway 24 Left at Los Angeles International Airport. It was night, and the 737 was cleared to land on Runway 24 Left when ATC cleared the Skywest Metroliner to "position and hold" on the same runway. ATC forgot to issue takeoff clearance to the Metroliner, and the 737 collided in-flight with the Metroliner killing thirty-four people.
After this tragic accident pilots have been encouraged to exercise vigilance during "position and hold" operations and to query ATC after holding in position for sixty seconds with no updates. Never sit with your back turned to an active approach corridor for more than a minute without speaking up. ATC may've forgotten about you. Do your best to monitor the frequency and create a mental picture of where each aircraft is around you. One of the reasons we're all on the same frequency is so we can benefit from the "party line" and listen to where other aircraft are and what they're doing. I've also heard guidance about positioning your aircraft at a forty-five degree angle to the runway centerline to enable you to check final behind you while waiting for takeoff clearance. That seems hit-or-miss to me for a few reasons: It might not be feasible for larger aircraft, valuable runway distance will be used during the mis-alignment and subsequent re-alignment before takeoff, and the re-alignment process prior to the application of takeoff power requires a slight delay on the runway (which reduces the effectiveness of "position and hold" operations in the first place). But, at least you'll have the reassurance of being able to check for yourself to see if there's traffic behind you. And at night on a runway equipped with centerline lighting, line up slightly offset from the centerline to make your aircraft lights easier to distinguish from the centerline lights to traffic on final.
Remember, sitting with your back turned to final on an active runway is a vulnerable position to be in. Don't be afraid to query ATC if you start to feel uneasy. And don't be caught off guard the first time you're told to "line up and wait." The new phraseology is coming soon!
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Stick to the Plan
Train like you fly. Fly like you train. That's a phrase I've always liked. When I was in training, it motivated me. It helped me understand that all the hours and effort I was putting into my flight training were for a good cause, and that the things I was learning might someday save my life.
One day, that was confirmed. The work I had done throughout my training career did save me. I was single pilot, IFR in instrument meteorological conditions (IMC) when my airplane suffered an alternator failure. Instrument pilots know the complete loss of electrical power (after alternator failure and battery depletion) is a serious emergency when flying in IMC. The airplane I was flying was an older Piper Cherokee with passive warning annunciator lights. A faint amber glow of the letters "ALT" on the panel is all the warning of an alternator malfunction the pilot gets, so you'd better pay attention. Alternator malfunctions must be detected early because once the alternator stops producing electrical power, your minutes of battery power start ticking down immediately. And you'd better not count on more than thirty minutes of juice; that's not a lot of time to get to an instrument approach and land, so every minute is precious.
My flight instructor had taught me to always keep a proactive instrument scan of the entire panel, not just the flight instruments but the engine gauges, ammeter, and annunciator panel as well. When failures or abnormal indications are detected early, they're usually easier to deal with. Had I not been maintaining an aggressive instrument scan, I may not have detected the alternator failure until the battery was depleted, or nearly so. That would have left me with no way to navigate, communicate, or find my way to an approach procedure and get down out of the clouds. Pilots greatly depend on electrical power while trudging through the murky gray.
My early detection of the "ALT" annunciator light enabled me to divert to a nearby instrument approach (which was shot to minimums) and land safely without incident. Most pilots are familiar with the "accident chain" theory, meaning almost all aviation accidents are the result of a chain of factors which link up to create an accident. My accident chain had started that day, but I broke the chain by flying like I trained, detecting the alternator failure early, staying calm and completing the appropriate checklist, and diverting to a nearby airport. The chain was broken before it ever got close to an accident. By staying calm and putting to use the skills I had learned in my training, I avoided what could've become a serious emergency.
Human factors research has indicated that pilots do a better job of dealing with inflight problems when they use the skills they learned during training. In other words, pilots manage emergencies better when they stick to their plan. As I've mentioned in previous posts, improvising is a bad idea in an airplane. When actors improvise during a take and their choices bomb, the director yells "Cut" and the actors try it again differently from the top. Pilots don't get a second take, and instead of a director yelling "Cut" after a bad choice pilots end up dead. Don't improvise. Stick to the plan. Improvisation is experimental... It may or may not work. That's certainly not something you'd want to engage in when your very life is depending on the outcome of the experiment. Remember: Train like you fly. Fly like you train.
Some pilots have a tendency to throw all the skills they acquired during emergency training to the wind when things get nasty. Ironically, that's when they need those skills the very most. Accident studies have shown that last second changes usually create problems, such as a last second decision to go around after touching down three quarters of the way down a runway with high trees off the departure end. What would've been a survivable runway overrun turns into a fatal inflight collision with trees.
Remember, pilots do best when we stick to our plans. You worked hard during your training to acquire life-saving skills, so use them when you need them! There's no better time to put to use your emergency procedures training than during an emergency.
One day, that was confirmed. The work I had done throughout my training career did save me. I was single pilot, IFR in instrument meteorological conditions (IMC) when my airplane suffered an alternator failure. Instrument pilots know the complete loss of electrical power (after alternator failure and battery depletion) is a serious emergency when flying in IMC. The airplane I was flying was an older Piper Cherokee with passive warning annunciator lights. A faint amber glow of the letters "ALT" on the panel is all the warning of an alternator malfunction the pilot gets, so you'd better pay attention. Alternator malfunctions must be detected early because once the alternator stops producing electrical power, your minutes of battery power start ticking down immediately. And you'd better not count on more than thirty minutes of juice; that's not a lot of time to get to an instrument approach and land, so every minute is precious.
My flight instructor had taught me to always keep a proactive instrument scan of the entire panel, not just the flight instruments but the engine gauges, ammeter, and annunciator panel as well. When failures or abnormal indications are detected early, they're usually easier to deal with. Had I not been maintaining an aggressive instrument scan, I may not have detected the alternator failure until the battery was depleted, or nearly so. That would have left me with no way to navigate, communicate, or find my way to an approach procedure and get down out of the clouds. Pilots greatly depend on electrical power while trudging through the murky gray.
My early detection of the "ALT" annunciator light enabled me to divert to a nearby instrument approach (which was shot to minimums) and land safely without incident. Most pilots are familiar with the "accident chain" theory, meaning almost all aviation accidents are the result of a chain of factors which link up to create an accident. My accident chain had started that day, but I broke the chain by flying like I trained, detecting the alternator failure early, staying calm and completing the appropriate checklist, and diverting to a nearby airport. The chain was broken before it ever got close to an accident. By staying calm and putting to use the skills I had learned in my training, I avoided what could've become a serious emergency.
Human factors research has indicated that pilots do a better job of dealing with inflight problems when they use the skills they learned during training. In other words, pilots manage emergencies better when they stick to their plan. As I've mentioned in previous posts, improvising is a bad idea in an airplane. When actors improvise during a take and their choices bomb, the director yells "Cut" and the actors try it again differently from the top. Pilots don't get a second take, and instead of a director yelling "Cut" after a bad choice pilots end up dead. Don't improvise. Stick to the plan. Improvisation is experimental... It may or may not work. That's certainly not something you'd want to engage in when your very life is depending on the outcome of the experiment. Remember: Train like you fly. Fly like you train.
Some pilots have a tendency to throw all the skills they acquired during emergency training to the wind when things get nasty. Ironically, that's when they need those skills the very most. Accident studies have shown that last second changes usually create problems, such as a last second decision to go around after touching down three quarters of the way down a runway with high trees off the departure end. What would've been a survivable runway overrun turns into a fatal inflight collision with trees.
Remember, pilots do best when we stick to our plans. You worked hard during your training to acquire life-saving skills, so use them when you need them! There's no better time to put to use your emergency procedures training than during an emergency.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Good News
Runway incursions are down this year. Great job to everyone who has contributed to the effort to reduce runway incursions. Keep it up! It seems that the FAA's runway safety initiative is helping, and pilots at all levels across the country have received free training resources and education on preventing runway incursions. Runway safety continues to be a hot spot and focus area for the FAA, and there is still room for improvement.
Approximately sixty percent of 2009's runway incursions have been caused by pilot deviations (PD). Of those pilot deviations, a staggering eighty three percent involved general aviation (GA) airplanes. That means five out of six runway incursions are caused by GA pilots. Ouch! We can do better than that! Let's brush up on a few runway safety recommendations.
Approximately sixty percent of 2009's runway incursions have been caused by pilot deviations (PD). Of those pilot deviations, a staggering eighty three percent involved general aviation (GA) airplanes. That means five out of six runway incursions are caused by GA pilots. Ouch! We can do better than that! Let's brush up on a few runway safety recommendations.
- Eliminate "heads-down" time during surface operations. Keep your head up and eyes out during taxi. Never complete checklists or other pre-departure (or pre-shutdown) tasks while the aircraft is moving. Here are a few do's and don'ts for taxiing. Do: Keep your eyes and attention outside the aircraft, periodically cross-check your heading indicator to verify you're taxiing in the correct direction and that you are where you think you are. Don't: Program a GPS or configure avionics, run checklists, copy a pre-departure IFR clearance, study an aeronautical chart.
- Always refer to a current airport diagram while taxiing. Study the airport diagram during your preflight planning, and highlight your anticipated taxi route. Pay special attention to any designated airport "hot spots" depicted on airport diagrams, and obtain NOTAMs before departure to check for taxiway closures. Any closures should be marked on your airport diagram.
- Always write down taxi instructions, especially if they are complex or if the airport is unfamiliar. As is clearly stated on every airport diagram, read back all runway holding instructions. I'd take that a step further and advise a read back of all taxi instructions, including runway holding instructions. If you think you may've heard your taxi instructions incorrectly, or if you don't understand the instructions, ask ATC.
- Always use sterile cockpit procedures during surface operations. Only pertinent information should be discussed. This will help eliminate cockpit distractions and keep you from inadvertently wandering onto an active runway!
- Make sure you have a thorough understanding of all airport signage and surface markings. Carry a "cheat sheet" airport sign and marking legend if you must.
- Use external aircraft lights to signal your intentions to other pilots, whether day or night. Remember these guidelines: beacon on anytime the engine is running, strobes on anytime you're occupying an active runway (crossing, holding, taking off or landing), landing lights and all other external lights on when initiating takeoff roll or landing.
- Always look both ways before entering any runway. ATC makes mistakes too! I take this a step further and look both ways before entering a taxiway intersection as well. I announce, "Clear left, clear right." This helps increase my situational awareness and keeps me engaged and vigilant.
- If you're even slightly uncertain of your position on the airport, STOP. Ask ATC for assistance. If you find yourself on a runway, clear the runway immediately, stop, and ask ATC for assistance. Don't hesitate to request progressive taxi instructions if necessary.
Something the airlines have been doing for a few years now (some longer) since the Comair crash in Lexington is performing a mandatory cross-check of the heading indicator prior to initiating the takeoff roll to verify the aircraft is lined up on the correct runway. I've adopted this procedure and recommend it to all pilots. After I line up and immediately before I apply takeoff power I verify proper heading and say, "Runway XX confirmed." This is an excellent way of verifying you've got the correct runway ahead of you and that ATC has cleared it of traffic and it is of sufficient length as planned. Do the same thing when approaching a runway on final. Verify your heading matches the intended runway and say, "Runway XX confirmed."
Following these recommendations will ensure you don't become a statistic! Again, great job, everyone, on the runway safety improvement. We've still got more work to do, so let's keep it up and remember... Stay alert, stay alive.
Friday, September 11, 2009
"We Have Clearance, Clarence."
"I guess he's just headin' in," said the tower controller. I visited my home base airport's control tower a couple weeks ago. The tower controller, or local controller in ATC terms, and I watched as a Cessna 172 landed, exited the runway, and taxied to his parking location without saying a word. The controller, not wanting to fill out a bunch of paperwork near the end of his shift, quickly keyed up and issued the aircraft taxi clearance. The pilot acknowledged, his voice sounding a bit caught off guard by the taxi clearance, perhaps because he didn't understand that he had unwittingly just committed a violation.
This happens all the time. Go park yourself near the sidelines at a busy GA airport with a control tower and count how many airplanes taxi off the runway after landing and continue to their parking location without clearance. Controllers get used to this, and in the interest of maintaining a healthy blood pressure level, they usually don't chastise the unknowing pilots and simply issue a taxi clearance. Sometimes they ignore the violation altogether. But taxiing from a runway to a parking location requires clearance from ATC, just like taxiing from a parking location to a runway for takeoff. Certainly, most pilots wouldn't start-up and taxi out to a departure runway for takeoff without contacting ground control for taxi clearance. Why, then, do they taxi along the same active taxiways in the opposite direction without clearance after landing?
When a controller clears you to land, the runway is yours. Not the entire airport movement area (including the taxiways you plan to use to transition from the landing runway to parking). A taxi clearance must be received after landing, even if the taxi is short and simple. That same taxi required a clearance before takeoff, and it requires a clearance after landing. Other aircraft may be moving about the surface communicating with ground control. Taxiing off the runway after landing and continuing straight onto another taxiway may put you head-to-head with another aircraft. That can create a headache because aircraft can't go backwards, and on narrow taxiways there may be insufficient room to accommodate a 180 degree turn. A shutdown and tow may be required to remedy the situation.
Remember, you must be cleared to taxi before you move anywhere on a designated movement area. That's true whether you're taxiing out for takeoff, taxiing from point to point on the airport surface, or taxiing to parking after landing. Sometimes taxi clearances are extremely short. "Skyhawk 123, taxi to parking." That's a taxi clearance. Three words. The term "taxi to" means you choose your taxi route. You can use any taxiways or inactive runways you desire, just not an active runway. The FAA has recently mandated the issuance of explicit taxi instructions at many airports, meaning controllers are no longer permitted to use "taxi to" clearances. An explicit taxi instruction contains a specific taxi route, but it can still be short. At my home base, I often get the taxi clearance, "Taxi to parking via Alpha." That's still short but explicit because it contains a specific taxi route. No matter what the case, you've got to have a clearance in one form another before taxiing after landing.
The proper procedure is to land and exit the runway as soon as practicable. Always exit onto a taxiway, never an intersecting runway unless specifically instructed by ATC. Pull your entire aircraft clear of the hold short lines and stop, then await further instructions from ATC. Never change to the ground frequency unless instructed by the tower. That's another common mistake I've seen. Some pilots switch from tower to ground automatically after exiting the runway. Don't do that. Stay on tower, give the controller a second to issue you further instructions, and if he doesn't, query him. At that point he'll either issue you a taxi clearance or hand you off to the ground controller. The ground controller will then issue a taxi clearance. If the tower controller issues the taxi clearance, stay on his frequency for the entire taxi unless he specifically instructs you to contact ground. When requesting taxi-in clearance, use the same format you'd use if calling for a taxi clearance for takeoff. It should sound like this, "Denver Ground, Skyhawk 123, clear of 35 Left at Mike 6, taxi to GA parking."
Taxiing off a landing runway and onto an active taxiway is taxiing without clearance. It's a violation and can get you into trouble. So, remember, pull across the hold lines, stop, and await further instructions.
This happens all the time. Go park yourself near the sidelines at a busy GA airport with a control tower and count how many airplanes taxi off the runway after landing and continue to their parking location without clearance. Controllers get used to this, and in the interest of maintaining a healthy blood pressure level, they usually don't chastise the unknowing pilots and simply issue a taxi clearance. Sometimes they ignore the violation altogether. But taxiing from a runway to a parking location requires clearance from ATC, just like taxiing from a parking location to a runway for takeoff. Certainly, most pilots wouldn't start-up and taxi out to a departure runway for takeoff without contacting ground control for taxi clearance. Why, then, do they taxi along the same active taxiways in the opposite direction without clearance after landing?
When a controller clears you to land, the runway is yours. Not the entire airport movement area (including the taxiways you plan to use to transition from the landing runway to parking). A taxi clearance must be received after landing, even if the taxi is short and simple. That same taxi required a clearance before takeoff, and it requires a clearance after landing. Other aircraft may be moving about the surface communicating with ground control. Taxiing off the runway after landing and continuing straight onto another taxiway may put you head-to-head with another aircraft. That can create a headache because aircraft can't go backwards, and on narrow taxiways there may be insufficient room to accommodate a 180 degree turn. A shutdown and tow may be required to remedy the situation.
Remember, you must be cleared to taxi before you move anywhere on a designated movement area. That's true whether you're taxiing out for takeoff, taxiing from point to point on the airport surface, or taxiing to parking after landing. Sometimes taxi clearances are extremely short. "Skyhawk 123, taxi to parking." That's a taxi clearance. Three words. The term "taxi to" means you choose your taxi route. You can use any taxiways or inactive runways you desire, just not an active runway. The FAA has recently mandated the issuance of explicit taxi instructions at many airports, meaning controllers are no longer permitted to use "taxi to" clearances. An explicit taxi instruction contains a specific taxi route, but it can still be short. At my home base, I often get the taxi clearance, "Taxi to parking via Alpha." That's still short but explicit because it contains a specific taxi route. No matter what the case, you've got to have a clearance in one form another before taxiing after landing.
The proper procedure is to land and exit the runway as soon as practicable. Always exit onto a taxiway, never an intersecting runway unless specifically instructed by ATC. Pull your entire aircraft clear of the hold short lines and stop, then await further instructions from ATC. Never change to the ground frequency unless instructed by the tower. That's another common mistake I've seen. Some pilots switch from tower to ground automatically after exiting the runway. Don't do that. Stay on tower, give the controller a second to issue you further instructions, and if he doesn't, query him. At that point he'll either issue you a taxi clearance or hand you off to the ground controller. The ground controller will then issue a taxi clearance. If the tower controller issues the taxi clearance, stay on his frequency for the entire taxi unless he specifically instructs you to contact ground. When requesting taxi-in clearance, use the same format you'd use if calling for a taxi clearance for takeoff. It should sound like this, "Denver Ground, Skyhawk 123, clear of 35 Left at Mike 6, taxi to GA parking."
Taxiing off a landing runway and onto an active taxiway is taxiing without clearance. It's a violation and can get you into trouble. So, remember, pull across the hold lines, stop, and await further instructions.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Airplane Pain
Body pain is important to humans. It keeps us from damaging our bodies. When injury begins, pain calls out to us, "Stop!" Pain is a powerful and wonderful communication tool that keeps our bodies preserved and safe from continued injury. Airplanes feel pain too. The problem is, they can't tell us what hurts and when.
Wouldn't it be great if airplanes could talk? "A little more right rudder, please. There, that feels better." Airplanes do sometimes communicate, but in much more subtle ways. As pilots, our primary means of understanding and working harmoniously with our ship is through knowledge. Knowledge of what hurts airplanes, what keeps them safe, what stresses them, and how best to handle them. It's a synthetic thinking game, kind of like aliens from a different galaxy reading a manual about how to decode human body language. "I wonder why the corners of their mouths point up when they're happy," they might say. I've often wondered what an airframe feels during a steep turn. All the rivets, the wing spars, the skin creating different artificial sensations. The problem is, we can't feel those sensations, yet we're very much a part of the airplane and are totally reliant on its structure to remain intact and healthy during flight.
So, we learn in ground school about load factor and aerodynamics, much like aliens would study human anatomy and physiology to better understand our inner workings. But until the day when it's possible to hook electrodes onto our arms and legs that zap sensory information into our bodies in accord with airplane loads and stresses during flight, the best we can do is put knowledge in our brains about what it must feel like for the airplane.
Sometimes we misunderstand or forget. This is what brought down AAL 587, an A300 that crashed during climbout from JFK in 2001. The airplane encountered wake turbulence from a 747 a few miles ahead and the pilot made over-enthusiastic control inputs that ripped the vertical stabilizer off. If only the airplane could've shouted out to the pilot, "Ouch! That hurts! Less rudder!" Since we can't feel the airplane's pain, it's impossible for us to tell when the beating is becoming too severe until it's too late and structural failure occurs. For this reason, we must be extra vigilant and cognizant of our flying technique. Stick and rudder skills are still important, even in this age of automation. Pilots can still break airplanes. A thorough understanding of aerodynamic principles is imperative because we can't be guided by the airplane's sense perceptions, although the airplane is feeling every input continuously.
Be kind to your airplane. Fly it gently, gracefully, and with care and expertise. It will appreciate it, even if it can't tell you with words.
Wouldn't it be great if airplanes could talk? "A little more right rudder, please. There, that feels better." Airplanes do sometimes communicate, but in much more subtle ways. As pilots, our primary means of understanding and working harmoniously with our ship is through knowledge. Knowledge of what hurts airplanes, what keeps them safe, what stresses them, and how best to handle them. It's a synthetic thinking game, kind of like aliens from a different galaxy reading a manual about how to decode human body language. "I wonder why the corners of their mouths point up when they're happy," they might say. I've often wondered what an airframe feels during a steep turn. All the rivets, the wing spars, the skin creating different artificial sensations. The problem is, we can't feel those sensations, yet we're very much a part of the airplane and are totally reliant on its structure to remain intact and healthy during flight.
So, we learn in ground school about load factor and aerodynamics, much like aliens would study human anatomy and physiology to better understand our inner workings. But until the day when it's possible to hook electrodes onto our arms and legs that zap sensory information into our bodies in accord with airplane loads and stresses during flight, the best we can do is put knowledge in our brains about what it must feel like for the airplane.
Sometimes we misunderstand or forget. This is what brought down AAL 587, an A300 that crashed during climbout from JFK in 2001. The airplane encountered wake turbulence from a 747 a few miles ahead and the pilot made over-enthusiastic control inputs that ripped the vertical stabilizer off. If only the airplane could've shouted out to the pilot, "Ouch! That hurts! Less rudder!" Since we can't feel the airplane's pain, it's impossible for us to tell when the beating is becoming too severe until it's too late and structural failure occurs. For this reason, we must be extra vigilant and cognizant of our flying technique. Stick and rudder skills are still important, even in this age of automation. Pilots can still break airplanes. A thorough understanding of aerodynamic principles is imperative because we can't be guided by the airplane's sense perceptions, although the airplane is feeling every input continuously.
Be kind to your airplane. Fly it gently, gracefully, and with care and expertise. It will appreciate it, even if it can't tell you with words.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Laser Danger
Reports of Unauthorized Laser Illumination Events have increased drastically in recent years. If you're unfamiliar with what an Unauthorized Laser Illumination Event is, allow me to define it in plain language: some idiot with a laser pointer on the ground shines his light into the cockpit of an overflying aircraft.
Lasers are highly concentrated intense beams of light that can damage the human eye. During night operations, lasers can temporarily blind us (flash blindness), leave a temporary blindspot "afterimage," and cause glare in the cockpit that makes it difficult to see the instrument panel. Lasers present danger to aircraft operations and can damage our vision.
Laser devices have been banned or restricted in the United Kingdom and Australia, and hopefully the same will happen in the United States soon. The good news is that the government is taking this very seriously. Arrests have occured thanks to reports of unauthorized laser events from flight crews, and the FAA is asking for our help in tracking down these reckless criminals. AC 70-2 outlines the reporting procedures. The AC is available on the FAA's web site (www.faa.gov), and I highly recommend looking it over so you can do your part in bringing these laser-wielding morons to justice.
If you get "lased" while flying, notify ATC immediately. ATC will gather information and submit your report to the authorities, and they'll put out advisories to other aircraft that there are unauthorized lasers in the area. If you're operating at an uncontrolled airport, put out an advisory over the CTAF warning other pilots of the unauthorized laser activity. After you land, fill out the Washington Operations Control Center's Laser Beam Exposure Questionnaire. The questionnaire is attached to the above-mentioned AC. You can also send an email to LaserReports@faa.gov. Include as much information as you can -- it will help law enforcement agencies track down the perpetrator.
Timely and accurate reporting of Unauthorized Laser Illumination Events is the key to putting a stop to this problem. I'm excited to know that the FAA is responding to this issue with a sense of urgency. These laser-pointing boneheads (that's the last of the name calling, I promise) are compromising the safety and efficiency of aircraft operations in the National Airspace System. It's our job to help the officials track them down.
Lasers are highly concentrated intense beams of light that can damage the human eye. During night operations, lasers can temporarily blind us (flash blindness), leave a temporary blindspot "afterimage," and cause glare in the cockpit that makes it difficult to see the instrument panel. Lasers present danger to aircraft operations and can damage our vision.
Laser devices have been banned or restricted in the United Kingdom and Australia, and hopefully the same will happen in the United States soon. The good news is that the government is taking this very seriously. Arrests have occured thanks to reports of unauthorized laser events from flight crews, and the FAA is asking for our help in tracking down these reckless criminals. AC 70-2 outlines the reporting procedures. The AC is available on the FAA's web site (www.faa.gov), and I highly recommend looking it over so you can do your part in bringing these laser-wielding morons to justice.
If you get "lased" while flying, notify ATC immediately. ATC will gather information and submit your report to the authorities, and they'll put out advisories to other aircraft that there are unauthorized lasers in the area. If you're operating at an uncontrolled airport, put out an advisory over the CTAF warning other pilots of the unauthorized laser activity. After you land, fill out the Washington Operations Control Center's Laser Beam Exposure Questionnaire. The questionnaire is attached to the above-mentioned AC. You can also send an email to LaserReports@faa.gov. Include as much information as you can -- it will help law enforcement agencies track down the perpetrator.
Timely and accurate reporting of Unauthorized Laser Illumination Events is the key to putting a stop to this problem. I'm excited to know that the FAA is responding to this issue with a sense of urgency. These laser-pointing boneheads (that's the last of the name calling, I promise) are compromising the safety and efficiency of aircraft operations in the National Airspace System. It's our job to help the officials track them down.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
No Hydraulics
"I didn't want them to die." That's what DC-10 instructor pilot Dennis Fitch said in a post-crash interview. He was deadheading on United Airlines Flight 232 on July 19, 1989 when a compressor fan failed in the DC-10's number 2 engine, shooting titanium fragments out of the engine nacelle and rupturing the hydraulic lines of all three of the airplane's hydraulic systems.
For a pilot, it's hard to imagine any situation more scary than losing all flight controls. The flight crew, Captain Alfred Haynes, First Officer William Records, and Flight Engineer Dudley Dvorak, immediately responded to the engine failure, shut down the number 2 engine, and began assessing the situation. Dvorak reported a loss of hydraulic pressure in all three hydraulic systems -- an almost unimaginable event. The airplane began banking and oscillating as the crew struggled to maintain control by using differential thrust from the number 1 and 3 engines. Dennis Fitch made his way to the flight deck to offer assistance. Captain Haynes assigned Fitch to throttle control, which was all the crew had to maintain any semblance of control of the DC-10.
The crew diverted to Sioux Falls, Iowa, the nearest suitable airport for landing in the area. Using only differential thrust from the two wing engines, Fitch managed to point the jet toward the airport and establish a descent toward the runway. The final moments of the flight were harrowing, and the crew can be heard on the cockpit voice recorder working all the way down until impact. A distinct increase in engine noise can be heard in the final seconds before impact as Fitch pushed both throttles to maximum power in an effort to make the descent rate survivable. The DC-10 slammed the ground, broke into several pieces, and fire erupted.
One-hundred and ten passengers and one flight attendant were killed in the crash. There were 185 survivors. All four flight crew members survived the crash.
Dennis Fitch saved 185 lives that day. His heroic efforts under unimaginable fear and stress during a situation so seemingly hopeless are what yielded survivors when it was more likely for all those aboard to die. "It tore my heart out to know people died behind me," Fitch said. My heart is with those lost and their families. I hope Fitch reminds himself that he saved more lives than were lost that day.
National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) Investigator Jim Wildey is an unsung hero of this crash. Wildey devoted his time and energy to investigating the cause of the compressor fan failure which resulted in the fatal loss of the airplane's three hydraulic systems and subsequently flight controls. Wildey discovered a tiny area of metal fatigue on the failed piece of the engine which caused the piece to disintegrate in flight and send titanium shards into the aircraft's hydraulic lines. Wildey determined that the crack was detectable and should've been discovered by United Airlines maintenance technicians during a routine engine inspection prior to the crash. The oversight error by the maintenance technicians was cited as a critical piece of the cause of the crash of Flight 232.
Because of Wildey's efforts and findings, new rules are in place to prevent this type of accident from ever occurring again. Maintenance inspections are more strict, hydraulic systems are built to preserve hydraulic fluid when punctured, and an Airworthiness Directive was issued to prevent other DC-10s with the same fault from suffering the same fate.
The loss of all flight controls is almost unimaginable to most pilots. But that's exactly what Dennis Fitch, Captain Haynes, First Officer Records, and Flight Engineer Dvorak were faced with on July 19, 1989. Fitch kept flying. He never gave up, even when the situation was grave. Other pilots can learn from him. When faced with danger, we must keep thinking, we must keep flying.
For a pilot, it's hard to imagine any situation more scary than losing all flight controls. The flight crew, Captain Alfred Haynes, First Officer William Records, and Flight Engineer Dudley Dvorak, immediately responded to the engine failure, shut down the number 2 engine, and began assessing the situation. Dvorak reported a loss of hydraulic pressure in all three hydraulic systems -- an almost unimaginable event. The airplane began banking and oscillating as the crew struggled to maintain control by using differential thrust from the number 1 and 3 engines. Dennis Fitch made his way to the flight deck to offer assistance. Captain Haynes assigned Fitch to throttle control, which was all the crew had to maintain any semblance of control of the DC-10.
The crew diverted to Sioux Falls, Iowa, the nearest suitable airport for landing in the area. Using only differential thrust from the two wing engines, Fitch managed to point the jet toward the airport and establish a descent toward the runway. The final moments of the flight were harrowing, and the crew can be heard on the cockpit voice recorder working all the way down until impact. A distinct increase in engine noise can be heard in the final seconds before impact as Fitch pushed both throttles to maximum power in an effort to make the descent rate survivable. The DC-10 slammed the ground, broke into several pieces, and fire erupted.
One-hundred and ten passengers and one flight attendant were killed in the crash. There were 185 survivors. All four flight crew members survived the crash.
Dennis Fitch saved 185 lives that day. His heroic efforts under unimaginable fear and stress during a situation so seemingly hopeless are what yielded survivors when it was more likely for all those aboard to die. "It tore my heart out to know people died behind me," Fitch said. My heart is with those lost and their families. I hope Fitch reminds himself that he saved more lives than were lost that day.
National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) Investigator Jim Wildey is an unsung hero of this crash. Wildey devoted his time and energy to investigating the cause of the compressor fan failure which resulted in the fatal loss of the airplane's three hydraulic systems and subsequently flight controls. Wildey discovered a tiny area of metal fatigue on the failed piece of the engine which caused the piece to disintegrate in flight and send titanium shards into the aircraft's hydraulic lines. Wildey determined that the crack was detectable and should've been discovered by United Airlines maintenance technicians during a routine engine inspection prior to the crash. The oversight error by the maintenance technicians was cited as a critical piece of the cause of the crash of Flight 232.
Because of Wildey's efforts and findings, new rules are in place to prevent this type of accident from ever occurring again. Maintenance inspections are more strict, hydraulic systems are built to preserve hydraulic fluid when punctured, and an Airworthiness Directive was issued to prevent other DC-10s with the same fault from suffering the same fate.
The loss of all flight controls is almost unimaginable to most pilots. But that's exactly what Dennis Fitch, Captain Haynes, First Officer Records, and Flight Engineer Dvorak were faced with on July 19, 1989. Fitch kept flying. He never gave up, even when the situation was grave. Other pilots can learn from him. When faced with danger, we must keep thinking, we must keep flying.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Heads Up, Eyes Out
Collision Avoidance. It's a term pilots hear often, and for good reason. Avoiding collisions with other aircraft is one of the most critical objectives pilots manage every flight. Mid-air collisions are almost always fatal, and they can happen with little or no warning. The risk of a mid-air collision never goes away. Every second of every flight, day or night, good weather or bad, the risk of a mid-air collision lurks in the background. In your mind, however, consideration of that risk should be in the foreground.
The recent mid-air collision over the Hudson River resulting in the deaths of nine people is a sobering reminder of this. It's easy for pilots to forget about the danger of mid-airs. It's extremely rare that we unintentionally share our airplane's personal space bubble with another aircraft. Heck, on some flights we hardly even see other aircraft in the sky around us. It's easy for us to feel like we are alone in our chunk of the sky and relax, or altogether discontinue, our traffic scan. We figure the sky is big, so what are the odds that another aircraft is going to occupy the exact same piece of it simultaneously with us? That depends.
In the vicinity of an airport those odds increase drastically. In the case of the recent Hudson mid-air, the probability of a mid-air collision was markedly higher than in most areas of the country because of the business and congestion of the New York terminal area. It's like a bee's nest for aircraft. And when the weather is good (as it was the day of the Hudson mid-air), watch out. The odds of bumping into another aircraft increase even more. Although that might be counterintuitive at first, remember that good weather not only means more airplanes in the sky, but less ATC control and separation of those airplanes. When weather is good VFR, the total number of aicraft in the sky increases while the number of aircraft being positively controlled and separated by ATC decreases. That spells increased collision risk.
Most mid-air collisions occur during daytime VMC in the vicinity of an airport, just like the Hudson mid-air. But mid-airs can happen anytime. It only takes two airplanes in the sky to introduce a collision risk. The collision of two vintage airliners over the Grand Canyon many years ago was an excellent example of this. The two airplanes were virtually the only ones in the area, yet they collided killing all aboard. Anytime there's another guy up buzzing around in the same sky as you, there's a chance you could smash into each other. Throw more airplanes into the mix, as in the vicinity of an airport, and you better watch out.
The FAA's "Operation Lights On" program suggests pilots turn all external lights on (including landing lights) within ten miles of an airport, and/or when operating below 10,000 feet MSL. Lights should also be on during reduced visibility or, of course, when taking off or landing. Landing lights should be used even during daylight. The use of external lights helps manage collision risk by making your aircraft more conspicuous to other traffic.
Remember to maximize use of internal and external resources. If you have passengers aboard, brief them before engine start to speak up if they see traffic. Use effective scanning techniques when searching for traffic. Remember, the human eye takes a second or two to focus after it fixes on an area. Sweep the area around the airplane in short, ten degree segments, pausing 1-2 seconds each segment. Sweeping your eyes in a nonstop motion across the sky is unlikely to help you spot other aircraft because your eyes will be out of focus and their motion-detecting ability will be compromised. Use traffic avoidance systems such as TIS or TAS only as a secondary or backup means of avoiding other aircraft, and remember that those systems will not warn you of aircraft without a transponder. Never relax when the TIS/TAS display shows no other airplanes around. There could be a J-3 Cub without an operative transponder converging head-on with you. Minimize "heads down" time in flight and remember most of your attention should be focused outside of the airplane while in visual conditions, even when on an IFR flight plan. ATC only separates IFR traffic from other IFR traffic; it's the VFR guys you need to be concerned about. Just like the regulations state, it's the responsibility of the pilot to maintain separation from other traffic while in visual conditions. ATC can't separate you from someone they don't know is there (i.e. a VFR aircraft without a transponder).
If flying VFR, utilize ATC Flight Following whenever possible. This is one of the best external resources VFR pilots have available to help manage collision risk. This service also helps manage risk in other areas such as terrain and airspace avoidance. Always follow AIM-recommended procedures regarding traffic patterns to assist other pilots in knowing where to look for you. When the flow of traffic is orderly and predictable, there's less risk of a mid-air. And, of course, always use the CTAF at uncontrolled airports to let other pilots know where you are and what you're doing.
Our current collision avoidance system for VFR aircraft is limited in the United States. It relies almost completely on the "see and be seen" or "see and avoid" principles, and that doesn't work sometimes. It didn't work over the Hudson, and nine people are dead because of it. Luckily, transponders and traffic avoidance systems are becoming more mainstream and widespread throughout the GA community. That's a big step forward, but remember the best method of reducing collision risk is to keep your eyes outside of the airplane searching for threats. Don't expect the other guy to be looking for you, because often he isn't. It's your responsibility to keep yourself separated from other aircraft, so take it seriously. Your life depends on it.
The recent mid-air collision over the Hudson River resulting in the deaths of nine people is a sobering reminder of this. It's easy for pilots to forget about the danger of mid-airs. It's extremely rare that we unintentionally share our airplane's personal space bubble with another aircraft. Heck, on some flights we hardly even see other aircraft in the sky around us. It's easy for us to feel like we are alone in our chunk of the sky and relax, or altogether discontinue, our traffic scan. We figure the sky is big, so what are the odds that another aircraft is going to occupy the exact same piece of it simultaneously with us? That depends.
In the vicinity of an airport those odds increase drastically. In the case of the recent Hudson mid-air, the probability of a mid-air collision was markedly higher than in most areas of the country because of the business and congestion of the New York terminal area. It's like a bee's nest for aircraft. And when the weather is good (as it was the day of the Hudson mid-air), watch out. The odds of bumping into another aircraft increase even more. Although that might be counterintuitive at first, remember that good weather not only means more airplanes in the sky, but less ATC control and separation of those airplanes. When weather is good VFR, the total number of aicraft in the sky increases while the number of aircraft being positively controlled and separated by ATC decreases. That spells increased collision risk.
Most mid-air collisions occur during daytime VMC in the vicinity of an airport, just like the Hudson mid-air. But mid-airs can happen anytime. It only takes two airplanes in the sky to introduce a collision risk. The collision of two vintage airliners over the Grand Canyon many years ago was an excellent example of this. The two airplanes were virtually the only ones in the area, yet they collided killing all aboard. Anytime there's another guy up buzzing around in the same sky as you, there's a chance you could smash into each other. Throw more airplanes into the mix, as in the vicinity of an airport, and you better watch out.
The FAA's "Operation Lights On" program suggests pilots turn all external lights on (including landing lights) within ten miles of an airport, and/or when operating below 10,000 feet MSL. Lights should also be on during reduced visibility or, of course, when taking off or landing. Landing lights should be used even during daylight. The use of external lights helps manage collision risk by making your aircraft more conspicuous to other traffic.
Remember to maximize use of internal and external resources. If you have passengers aboard, brief them before engine start to speak up if they see traffic. Use effective scanning techniques when searching for traffic. Remember, the human eye takes a second or two to focus after it fixes on an area. Sweep the area around the airplane in short, ten degree segments, pausing 1-2 seconds each segment. Sweeping your eyes in a nonstop motion across the sky is unlikely to help you spot other aircraft because your eyes will be out of focus and their motion-detecting ability will be compromised. Use traffic avoidance systems such as TIS or TAS only as a secondary or backup means of avoiding other aircraft, and remember that those systems will not warn you of aircraft without a transponder. Never relax when the TIS/TAS display shows no other airplanes around. There could be a J-3 Cub without an operative transponder converging head-on with you. Minimize "heads down" time in flight and remember most of your attention should be focused outside of the airplane while in visual conditions, even when on an IFR flight plan. ATC only separates IFR traffic from other IFR traffic; it's the VFR guys you need to be concerned about. Just like the regulations state, it's the responsibility of the pilot to maintain separation from other traffic while in visual conditions. ATC can't separate you from someone they don't know is there (i.e. a VFR aircraft without a transponder).
If flying VFR, utilize ATC Flight Following whenever possible. This is one of the best external resources VFR pilots have available to help manage collision risk. This service also helps manage risk in other areas such as terrain and airspace avoidance. Always follow AIM-recommended procedures regarding traffic patterns to assist other pilots in knowing where to look for you. When the flow of traffic is orderly and predictable, there's less risk of a mid-air. And, of course, always use the CTAF at uncontrolled airports to let other pilots know where you are and what you're doing.
Our current collision avoidance system for VFR aircraft is limited in the United States. It relies almost completely on the "see and be seen" or "see and avoid" principles, and that doesn't work sometimes. It didn't work over the Hudson, and nine people are dead because of it. Luckily, transponders and traffic avoidance systems are becoming more mainstream and widespread throughout the GA community. That's a big step forward, but remember the best method of reducing collision risk is to keep your eyes outside of the airplane searching for threats. Don't expect the other guy to be looking for you, because often he isn't. It's your responsibility to keep yourself separated from other aircraft, so take it seriously. Your life depends on it.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Mid-Air
Nine are dead after a mid-air collision over the Hudson River today. The collision involved a helicopter conducting a sightseeing operation and a Piper Saratoga. The Saratoga had just taken off from Teterboro. Witnesses reported seeing the Saratoga overtaking the helicopter just before the collision. The worst news: there was a child aboard the Saratoga. I hope grace met him and the others on the Hudson. My deepest sympathy is with those involved.
More on this soon.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Sing it, Mac!
Mac McClellan of Flying magazine nailed it this month. Mac wrote about autothrottle systems and the tactical advantages they provide. He also exposed that Southwest Airlines, whose flying practices have stirred my gut before, does not use the autothrottle systems installed in their fleet of Boeing 737 jets. Southwest says the reason for their disuse of autothrottles is because it helps to "keep the pilots in the loop." That's simply foolish. That's what the N1 and airspeed indications are for.
Mac had a great comeback for this. He suggested Southwest discontinue use of their entire autopilot system, including lateral and vertical navigation modes, in order to really keep the pilots in the loop. More like in a spin.
Humans fail constantly. A staggering majority of aircraft accidents (airline included) are caused by pilot error. Cockpit automation rarely fails. It is highly reliable and precise, and offers tremendous enhancement to flight safety by backing up the human pilot. That's the idea behind autothrottle systems. Airspeed control is higher priority than lateral, or even vertical navigation. Autothrottles provide overspeed and, more importantly, underspeed protection during all phases of flight. This is especially critical during approach and landing when airspeed is low and pilot workload is high. Just look at the crash of Colgan 3407. The Dash 8 wasn't equipped with autothrottles and the captain failed to add power after the airplane leveled off at an intermediate altitude on the approach. A stall and horribly botched recovery resulted in a spin and loss of life. An autothrottle system would have prevented this accident.
Southwest just doesn't get it. I think it will take a stall/spin accident of one of their 737s before Southwest recognizes and embraces the importance of using autothrottles, especially on heavy, high performance jets. I'm not sure if this is still true today, but I once read that Southwest didn't use their autobrake systems either. It's that "cowboy" attitude that concerns me. Boeing installed these systems in their airplanes for a reason. They should be used.
Mac had a great comeback for this. He suggested Southwest discontinue use of their entire autopilot system, including lateral and vertical navigation modes, in order to really keep the pilots in the loop. More like in a spin.
Humans fail constantly. A staggering majority of aircraft accidents (airline included) are caused by pilot error. Cockpit automation rarely fails. It is highly reliable and precise, and offers tremendous enhancement to flight safety by backing up the human pilot. That's the idea behind autothrottle systems. Airspeed control is higher priority than lateral, or even vertical navigation. Autothrottles provide overspeed and, more importantly, underspeed protection during all phases of flight. This is especially critical during approach and landing when airspeed is low and pilot workload is high. Just look at the crash of Colgan 3407. The Dash 8 wasn't equipped with autothrottles and the captain failed to add power after the airplane leveled off at an intermediate altitude on the approach. A stall and horribly botched recovery resulted in a spin and loss of life. An autothrottle system would have prevented this accident.
Southwest just doesn't get it. I think it will take a stall/spin accident of one of their 737s before Southwest recognizes and embraces the importance of using autothrottles, especially on heavy, high performance jets. I'm not sure if this is still true today, but I once read that Southwest didn't use their autobrake systems either. It's that "cowboy" attitude that concerns me. Boeing installed these systems in their airplanes for a reason. They should be used.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Reg Review #2
Let's look at a simple, yet important regulation that is often forgotten or misunderstood.
Regulation
§ 91.209 Aircraft lights.
No person may:
(a) During the period from sunset to sunrise (or, in Alaska, during the period a prominent unlighted object cannot be seen from a distance of 3 statute miles or the sun is more than 6 degrees below the horizon)—
(1) Operate an aircraft unless it has lighted position lights.
Interpretation
Position lights must be illuminated between sunset and sunrise (except in Alaska). Let's define position lights. Position lights are often referred to by pilots and aircraft manufacturers as navigation lights or "nav" lights. They are the red (left wingtip) and green (right wingtip) lights with white aft sections and sometimes an all white light on the aft empennage.
Explanation
The purpose of position lights is to make aircraft visible to other pilots at night or in reduced visibility and to assist pilots in determining the orientation of nearby traffic. For instance, if we see three dim white lights, that indicates the traffic is most likely moving directly away from us (if they're bright white lights, the opposite might be true because we might be seeing landing lights). If we see a single green light, we're looking only at the aircraft's right wingtip, which means the aircraft is crossing from left to right. Most importantly, if we see a green light on our left and a red light on our right, it means we're converging with the traffic head-on.
It's obvious why it's a requirement to have position lights turned on when light conditions are dim or dark. We use position lights not only so we can see other traffic (anti-collision lights and beacons help with this, too), but more importantly so that we can tell which direction the other guy is traveling. During daylight this is easy to do because we're able to see the other guy's wings, nose, and tail. At night the lights have to provide this information.
Some pilots are confused about what the law states regarding when position lights must be illuminated. As the regulation simply states, the lights must be on from sunset to sunrise. Don't confuse this with the FAA's definition of night which is most often used in consideration of one's night currency for passenger carrying (one hour after sunset and one hour before sunrise). Position lights are required to be illuminated for an additional two hours -- one additional hour either side of the definition used for night currency. That means if your airplane isn't equipped with position lights or its position lights are inoperative, you must land before sunset or delay an early morning takeoff until after sunrise.
And one final note. The military occasionally conducts special "lights out" night operations in Military Operations Areas (MOA). That means there are high performance fighter jets flying around with no external lights on, so they're basically impossible to see. That's one more reason to avoid active MOAs when flying VFR at night or at a bare minimum be in contact with air traffic control receiving VFR Flight Following.
Regulation
§ 91.209 Aircraft lights.
No person may:
(a) During the period from sunset to sunrise (or, in Alaska, during the period a prominent unlighted object cannot be seen from a distance of 3 statute miles or the sun is more than 6 degrees below the horizon)—
(1) Operate an aircraft unless it has lighted position lights.
Interpretation
Position lights must be illuminated between sunset and sunrise (except in Alaska). Let's define position lights. Position lights are often referred to by pilots and aircraft manufacturers as navigation lights or "nav" lights. They are the red (left wingtip) and green (right wingtip) lights with white aft sections and sometimes an all white light on the aft empennage.
Explanation
The purpose of position lights is to make aircraft visible to other pilots at night or in reduced visibility and to assist pilots in determining the orientation of nearby traffic. For instance, if we see three dim white lights, that indicates the traffic is most likely moving directly away from us (if they're bright white lights, the opposite might be true because we might be seeing landing lights). If we see a single green light, we're looking only at the aircraft's right wingtip, which means the aircraft is crossing from left to right. Most importantly, if we see a green light on our left and a red light on our right, it means we're converging with the traffic head-on.
It's obvious why it's a requirement to have position lights turned on when light conditions are dim or dark. We use position lights not only so we can see other traffic (anti-collision lights and beacons help with this, too), but more importantly so that we can tell which direction the other guy is traveling. During daylight this is easy to do because we're able to see the other guy's wings, nose, and tail. At night the lights have to provide this information.
Some pilots are confused about what the law states regarding when position lights must be illuminated. As the regulation simply states, the lights must be on from sunset to sunrise. Don't confuse this with the FAA's definition of night which is most often used in consideration of one's night currency for passenger carrying (one hour after sunset and one hour before sunrise). Position lights are required to be illuminated for an additional two hours -- one additional hour either side of the definition used for night currency. That means if your airplane isn't equipped with position lights or its position lights are inoperative, you must land before sunset or delay an early morning takeoff until after sunrise.
And one final note. The military occasionally conducts special "lights out" night operations in Military Operations Areas (MOA). That means there are high performance fighter jets flying around with no external lights on, so they're basically impossible to see. That's one more reason to avoid active MOAs when flying VFR at night or at a bare minimum be in contact with air traffic control receiving VFR Flight Following.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Reg Review #1
I'm going to try something new. A couple of times each week I'm going to make a post reviewing long forgotten or rarely discussed regulations. Some of the regulations I'll review will be rather trivial , some significant, and some will be a clarification of widely misinterpreted regulations. I understand that the human brain only opens its intake filter for content it deems important and useful, so I'll explain the reason behind each regulation I review. If I don't know the reason, I'll give you my best educated guess. Because regulations are important to pilots for several reasons (enforcement action, safety, operational requirements), I think this new column will be helpful to readers. I'll also occasionally throw in guidance topics from the Aeronautical Information Manual (AIM) and FAA Advisory Circulars (AC). It will be a good review for me, too!
Let's get started with the first review.
Topic
Advisory Circular 91-36D, VFR Flight Near Noise-Sensitive Areas
"This Advisory Circular (AC) encourages pilots making VFR flights near noise-sensitive areas to fly at altitudes higher than the minimum permitted by regulation and on flight paths that will reduce aircraft noise in such areas." (See AC document for complete details.)
Interpretation
VFR aircraft are requested to fly at least 2,000 feet above ground level (AGL) over designated national wildlife refuge areas and other noise-sensitive areas. We know where these areas are located by finding them on VFR navigational charts (TAC, SAC, or WAC). We can compute the minimum requested mean sea level (MSL) altitude which will yield 2,000 feet AGL by decoding the terrain elevation color shown on the map (refer to the map legend for color-to-number translation) and adding 2,000. Add another five hundred feet to give yourself a margin for altitude drift and nonuniform terrain elevation. For an easier method, add 2,000 to the Maximum Elevation Figure (MEF) shown on the chart, plus a five hundred foot margin. This method won't work in extremely rugged terrain or where there are unusually high obstacles around (i.e. a tethered weather balloon) because the MEF might apply to an area miles away from the noise-sensitive area and might put you much higher than 2,000-3,000 feet AGL.
Explanation
The government wants to limit noise pollution in these areas. Airplanes are noisy, especially when they're less than 2,000 feet away. Think about it... Ground vehicles are restricted in these areas, and air vehicles are too. That's why they call these areas refuges. The idea here is to protect these nature areas from the nuisance of aircraft engine noise so that people and animals can enjoy them.
Let's get started with the first review.
Topic
Advisory Circular 91-36D, VFR Flight Near Noise-Sensitive Areas
"This Advisory Circular (AC) encourages pilots making VFR flights near noise-sensitive areas to fly at altitudes higher than the minimum permitted by regulation and on flight paths that will reduce aircraft noise in such areas." (See AC document for complete details.)
Interpretation
VFR aircraft are requested to fly at least 2,000 feet above ground level (AGL) over designated national wildlife refuge areas and other noise-sensitive areas. We know where these areas are located by finding them on VFR navigational charts (TAC, SAC, or WAC). We can compute the minimum requested mean sea level (MSL) altitude which will yield 2,000 feet AGL by decoding the terrain elevation color shown on the map (refer to the map legend for color-to-number translation) and adding 2,000. Add another five hundred feet to give yourself a margin for altitude drift and nonuniform terrain elevation. For an easier method, add 2,000 to the Maximum Elevation Figure (MEF) shown on the chart, plus a five hundred foot margin. This method won't work in extremely rugged terrain or where there are unusually high obstacles around (i.e. a tethered weather balloon) because the MEF might apply to an area miles away from the noise-sensitive area and might put you much higher than 2,000-3,000 feet AGL.
Explanation
The government wants to limit noise pollution in these areas. Airplanes are noisy, especially when they're less than 2,000 feet away. Think about it... Ground vehicles are restricted in these areas, and air vehicles are too. That's why they call these areas refuges. The idea here is to protect these nature areas from the nuisance of aircraft engine noise so that people and animals can enjoy them.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Traffic Advisories
"Citation One Charlie Mike, traffic twelve o'clock, five miles, southwestbound, level six thousand, a Gulfstream," transmitted the controller. "Uh, One Charlie Mike, yeah, we got 'em on TCAS," responded the pilot. A moment later the controller transmitted an updated traffic advisory, "November One Charlie Mike, that traffic's now one o'clock and three miles, six thousand." The Citation pilot responded, "Charlie Mike's got 'em on the box." I would imagine at this point the controller rolled his eyes and went on about his business, monitoring his sector and watching for traffic conflicts. What the Citation pilot didn't understand was why the controller was issuing him a traffic advisory and what the controller needed to hear to take further action.
Situations like this hypothetical event occur everyday. In this case, imagine that the Citation was level at seven thousand, his course converging with the Gulfstream one thousand feet below. The Citation needed lower because he was nearing his destination. The controller must separate the aircraft by three to five miles laterally, depending on the type of radar being used. If the airplanes are closer together than this in terms of lateral distance, the controller must separate them by one thousand feet vertically (or less in some situations). However, when visual meteorological conditions exist the controller may employ visual separation when the airplanes see each other. Have you ever heard a controller say to you, "Maintain visual separation with that traffic"? That means he's using visual separation procedures and the vertical and lateral spacing requirements are waived. When visual separation is being used as long as no one exchanges paint, controllers (and pilots) are happy. In order for a controller to employ visual separation, though, the pilots of the conflicting aircraft must report each other in sight. In the case of the Citation, the controller was attempting to initiate visual separation in order to expedite the airplane's descent as opposed to waiting until the Citation was three to five miles on the other side of the Gulfstream below. But since the Citation pilot didn't make much of an effort to find the other traffic, he denied himself the benefits of visual separation and the increased flexibility it unlocks.
You see, controllers follow complex sets of rules (just like pilots) that guide and dictate their decisions. When a controller issues a traffic advisory in an effort to initiate visual separation procedures, his rules tell him that the pilots must see each other with their eyeballs before they're permitted to penetrate each other's separation bubbles. Seeing another aircraft on a Traffic Collision Avoidance System (TCAS), or Traffic Information/Advisory Service (TIS/TAS) in the case of a light airplane, is not sufficient for the allowance of the reduced spacing visual separation provides. The FAA only trusts your eyeballs for that. When you tell a controller you've "got them on TCAS" you're wasting his time. He'll just filter those words out and translate them into his own controller language: "He doesn't have the other traffic in sight. That means I can't use visual separation." TCAS isn't approved for use in visual separation because, after all, it's not visual. It's a computer system. The controller already knows you probably see the other guy on TCAS, and he's not interested in that. He's only interested in whether or not you see him out the window. That's what is operationally significant to him. Think of it this way, imagine you said to the controller, "We've got 'em on TCAS." The controller then replied, "Yeah, and I've got you both on radar. That's not what I'm getting at." If two big, fast, shiny flying machines are going to whisk past each other in flight, the FAA insists that the pilots must primarily be relying on their eyeballs and not technology. That makes sense.
Remember, everything a controller does is for a reason. He's at work. He's got a job to do, and he's being guided by logical rules and procedures at all times. Whenever a controller gives you an instruction, try to figure out the reason for the instruction. Be curious about the operational significance of what he's asking of you. Whenever a controller talks to me on frequency, my mind automatically envisions him sitting in front of a big black radar scope with green blips and data tags watching for traffic conflicts, planning ahead about what each aircraft needs and keeping it all straight in his mind. Controllers call this "the flick." It's a fun term for situational awareness. Taking a tour of an air traffic control facility can be an amazingly beneficial activity for any pilot. Learn as much about the air traffic control system as you can, and it will serve you more pleasantly and effectively. And next time a controller gives you a traffic advisory, make both of your lives easier and find the other aircraft with your eyes. Your aviation medical examiner didn't certify your vision for nothing. You've got the gift of sight, use it!
Situations like this hypothetical event occur everyday. In this case, imagine that the Citation was level at seven thousand, his course converging with the Gulfstream one thousand feet below. The Citation needed lower because he was nearing his destination. The controller must separate the aircraft by three to five miles laterally, depending on the type of radar being used. If the airplanes are closer together than this in terms of lateral distance, the controller must separate them by one thousand feet vertically (or less in some situations). However, when visual meteorological conditions exist the controller may employ visual separation when the airplanes see each other. Have you ever heard a controller say to you, "Maintain visual separation with that traffic"? That means he's using visual separation procedures and the vertical and lateral spacing requirements are waived. When visual separation is being used as long as no one exchanges paint, controllers (and pilots) are happy. In order for a controller to employ visual separation, though, the pilots of the conflicting aircraft must report each other in sight. In the case of the Citation, the controller was attempting to initiate visual separation in order to expedite the airplane's descent as opposed to waiting until the Citation was three to five miles on the other side of the Gulfstream below. But since the Citation pilot didn't make much of an effort to find the other traffic, he denied himself the benefits of visual separation and the increased flexibility it unlocks.
You see, controllers follow complex sets of rules (just like pilots) that guide and dictate their decisions. When a controller issues a traffic advisory in an effort to initiate visual separation procedures, his rules tell him that the pilots must see each other with their eyeballs before they're permitted to penetrate each other's separation bubbles. Seeing another aircraft on a Traffic Collision Avoidance System (TCAS), or Traffic Information/Advisory Service (TIS/TAS) in the case of a light airplane, is not sufficient for the allowance of the reduced spacing visual separation provides. The FAA only trusts your eyeballs for that. When you tell a controller you've "got them on TCAS" you're wasting his time. He'll just filter those words out and translate them into his own controller language: "He doesn't have the other traffic in sight. That means I can't use visual separation." TCAS isn't approved for use in visual separation because, after all, it's not visual. It's a computer system. The controller already knows you probably see the other guy on TCAS, and he's not interested in that. He's only interested in whether or not you see him out the window. That's what is operationally significant to him. Think of it this way, imagine you said to the controller, "We've got 'em on TCAS." The controller then replied, "Yeah, and I've got you both on radar. That's not what I'm getting at." If two big, fast, shiny flying machines are going to whisk past each other in flight, the FAA insists that the pilots must primarily be relying on their eyeballs and not technology. That makes sense.
Remember, everything a controller does is for a reason. He's at work. He's got a job to do, and he's being guided by logical rules and procedures at all times. Whenever a controller gives you an instruction, try to figure out the reason for the instruction. Be curious about the operational significance of what he's asking of you. Whenever a controller talks to me on frequency, my mind automatically envisions him sitting in front of a big black radar scope with green blips and data tags watching for traffic conflicts, planning ahead about what each aircraft needs and keeping it all straight in his mind. Controllers call this "the flick." It's a fun term for situational awareness. Taking a tour of an air traffic control facility can be an amazingly beneficial activity for any pilot. Learn as much about the air traffic control system as you can, and it will serve you more pleasantly and effectively. And next time a controller gives you a traffic advisory, make both of your lives easier and find the other aircraft with your eyes. Your aviation medical examiner didn't certify your vision for nothing. You've got the gift of sight, use it!
Monday, July 13, 2009
AWE1549 CVR
If you haven't yet seen the Cactus 1549 cockpit voice recorder (CVR) transcript, check this out. Being a stickler for detail, and learning that Captain Sullenberger is too, I was surprised when I first heard the ATC tapes that Sully didn't use the "distress emergency" (indicating life is presently in jeopardy) radio transmission of "Mayday. Mayday. Mayday." It turns out, I was wrong. He did use it, and I'm not surprised. The first part of his distress transmission was blocked by New York Departure, but it was captured by the CVR. A minor detail, but just one more piece of evidence to indicate Sully's impeccable airmanship.
Below I've listed a link to an NSTB video including the approximate flight path of the Airbus and the ATC audio overlaid with the CVR transcript. "HOT-1" is Sully, "HOT-2" is First Officer Skiles, "CAM" means "cockpit area microphone" (which means the voice was either Sully or Skiles), and "RDO-1" is Sully transmitting on the radio. You'll also see messages from "GPWS." These are aural alerts from the aircraft's Ground Proximity Warning System that automatically alert the crew to terrain threats when certain parameters are exceeded.
Both Sully and Skiles are the definition of honorable pilots. Notice that they kept working all the way down to the water. They didn't freeze, they didn't panic, they stayed present and in command until the airplane wasn't flying anymore. Notice Skiles running the QRH (Quick Reference Handbook--you'll see Sully mention this after the bird strikes), reading and responding to each checklist item in an orderly and thorough manner all the way down. I believe Skiles even selected the "ditch switch" at a mere one hundred feet above the Hudson. You'll see Skiles refer to "* * Switch" on the CVR, the asterisks indicating an unknown word. I believe this was Skiles confirming with Sully the need to activate the ditch switch before impact, which sends a command to close the aircraft's pressurization outflow valve, pack flow control valves, and a couple other systems in order to enhance the airplane's ability to float. Once in the water, Skiles remained alone on the flight deck running the evacuation checklist while Sully made his way to the cabin to assist with the evacuation.
Sully and Skiles stayed active and calm all the way down to the Hudson. They certainly have my respect, admiration, and gratitude for their handling of that difficult emergency and for saving all those lives. The cabin crew (flight attendants) did a wonderful job, too. When asked by an interviewer if the flight attendants called the cockpit to see what was happening, one of them said, "No. We knew they were very busy. We knew they'd let us know when and if they got the time." That's the kind of response that gives me goosebumps. These ladies definitely know how pilots operate. And the flight crew never did get time to explain. The only thing the cabin crew heard from the cockpit was Sully's brace command, and they immediately began yelling their verbal commands from their jumpseats, "Brace! Brace! Heads down, stay down!" They performed their duties admirably as well.
So, without further ado, here's the link to the video. An excellent display of superior airmanship.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5S5hRRio-E8
Below I've listed a link to an NSTB video including the approximate flight path of the Airbus and the ATC audio overlaid with the CVR transcript. "HOT-1" is Sully, "HOT-2" is First Officer Skiles, "CAM" means "cockpit area microphone" (which means the voice was either Sully or Skiles), and "RDO-1" is Sully transmitting on the radio. You'll also see messages from "GPWS." These are aural alerts from the aircraft's Ground Proximity Warning System that automatically alert the crew to terrain threats when certain parameters are exceeded.
Both Sully and Skiles are the definition of honorable pilots. Notice that they kept working all the way down to the water. They didn't freeze, they didn't panic, they stayed present and in command until the airplane wasn't flying anymore. Notice Skiles running the QRH (Quick Reference Handbook--you'll see Sully mention this after the bird strikes), reading and responding to each checklist item in an orderly and thorough manner all the way down. I believe Skiles even selected the "ditch switch" at a mere one hundred feet above the Hudson. You'll see Skiles refer to "* * Switch" on the CVR, the asterisks indicating an unknown word. I believe this was Skiles confirming with Sully the need to activate the ditch switch before impact, which sends a command to close the aircraft's pressurization outflow valve, pack flow control valves, and a couple other systems in order to enhance the airplane's ability to float. Once in the water, Skiles remained alone on the flight deck running the evacuation checklist while Sully made his way to the cabin to assist with the evacuation.
Sully and Skiles stayed active and calm all the way down to the Hudson. They certainly have my respect, admiration, and gratitude for their handling of that difficult emergency and for saving all those lives. The cabin crew (flight attendants) did a wonderful job, too. When asked by an interviewer if the flight attendants called the cockpit to see what was happening, one of them said, "No. We knew they were very busy. We knew they'd let us know when and if they got the time." That's the kind of response that gives me goosebumps. These ladies definitely know how pilots operate. And the flight crew never did get time to explain. The only thing the cabin crew heard from the cockpit was Sully's brace command, and they immediately began yelling their verbal commands from their jumpseats, "Brace! Brace! Heads down, stay down!" They performed their duties admirably as well.
So, without further ado, here's the link to the video. An excellent display of superior airmanship.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5S5hRRio-E8
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Quiet, Please.
[Rant Alert!]
I just watched a YouTube video of a Boeing 747 go-around at Manchester. The video was shot by a spotter on the ground. The approach appears normal, then suddenly the jet pitches up and a go-around is initiated. No problem. I'm sure there's a reason for it. The 747 roars by, the gear returns to the wells, and the crew announces a go-around to the tower. The tower gives the crew go-around instructions. So far, so good.
The airplane couldn't have been more than seven hundred feet above the ground when the tower asks, "Handle 123, could you advise the reason for the go-around please?" The reason?! None of your business, that's the reason! We're talking about a Boeing 747 here. These guys were seven hundred feet above the ground, beginning a turn to a heading, climbing, re-configuring the airplane, running checklists, and making an announcement to the cabin. They don't have time to be justifying their go-around to some guy in the tower. They're a professional flight crew. They spend hundreds of hours in simulators practicing these scenarios. They can go around anytime they darn well feel like, including when their gut tells them to. They're in charge of the safety and operation of their ship, not the guy in the tower. He tells them when the runway is free of obstructions so they can land on it if they so choose.
Go-arounds are high workload operations. The airplane is low, slow, and draggy, and its vertical direction must be reversed quickly while being re-configured for climb. Then follows the chores of initial navigation and communication (notice the communication piece is last). A go-around is no time for an air traffic controller (ATC) to be asking a pilot what happened. It's none of his concern. All he needs to know is that the airplane is going around and whether or not the crew intends to return for another landing attempt. If he's curious, and I don't blame him if he is, he must exercise radio discipline and keep his questions to himself and perhaps the other controllers in the tower cab. Sometimes they don't get to know. That's part of their job, and they need to cope with that. Radio communications are strictly about business, so anything a controller (or pilot) communicates should be for a good and useful reason. Being curious about what happened is not a good or useful reason.
Luckily, the crew refused to provide a reason for the go-around initially. The Tower handed the flight off to Departure Control, and the new controller immediately asked the crew the reason for the go-around. The crew again did not respond and instead verified the heading they needed to fly (gee, that might be more important than discussing the reason for something that happened in the past). The controller verified the heading and again asked the crew about the go-around. The crew finally caved and advised the go-around was executed due to the illumination of a "Gear Unsafe" warning light on short final. They troubleshot for a bit then came back in and landed uneventfully.
Now, perhaps air traffic controllers in the United Kingdom are trained to inquire about the reason for a go-around so they can determine whether or not a situation on the ground was the cause. For instance, wildlife or debris on the runway or loss of ILS signal reception. Those are things the folks on the ground can fix so that the runway stays safe for future operations. I certainly see the value in that. However, any pilot in the world would undoubtedly notify ATC without prompting if a go-around was caused by an obstruction on the runway or ground equipment. After all, a pilot who goes around will most likely wish to come back and try another approach to the same runway, and most of us are smart enough to know that the luggage we saw scattered across the approach end during the first attempt probably didn't remove itself from the runway. And if there was some sort of onboard equipment failure or need to declare an emergency, the pilot understands that its his duty to inform ATC of this and will do so without prompting.
But if these controllers must ask, they should at least be trained to wait a minimum of three minutes after the go-around is initiated to give the crew time to complete critical tasks and climb to a safe altitude. Controllers need to understand that pilots have much more important things to tend to during go-arounds than talking on the radio. The radio is a controller's entire world, and I think sometimes they forget it's not the same for pilots. Not even remotely. In fact, pilots at all certification levels are universally taught to always "communicate" last. That means communicating with ATC is one of our lowest priorities. Non-pilot controllers (which represent the vast majority of the controller workforce) must understand some of these basic principles by which pilots operate so that they can provide better service. For a controller, many times that means being quiet and waiting for the crew to let them know what type of assistance, if any, they need from him. It may be a few minutes -- they've got other things to worry about first like keeping the airplane under control and safely away from terrain (i.e. during a go-around).
As I've mentioned before, I believe a good controller knows the boundaries of his role and stays inside them at all times, even if that means tolerating a few minutes (or more) of ambiguity. Pilots deal with this all the time when controllers issue unexpected instructions in the form of course or altitude changes. We're not allowed to ask the reason for the instruction, we're required to comply immediately and stay quiet. That's critical to the operation of the ATC system. If every pilot queried a controller after a new instruction was received, frequencies would be so congested they'd be useless and the skies would be disorderly and chaotic. Sometimes we don't get to know. What we do always know, though, is that controllers are skilled professionals and anything they do is for a reason, so when they give us a re-route we execute it immediately instead of asking them to justify the new instruction. Controllers need to do the same for pilots. When a pilot makes a professional decision, controllers must assume it's for a good reason and give the pilot space to do what he needs to do. In the case of the above-mentioned go-around, that would mean the controller would acknowledge receipt of the crew's transmission announcing the go-around, providing them go-around instructions (for instance, heading and altitude assignments), and remain silent while the crew handles the situation. Asking the crew for non-essential information during the early stages of the go-around requires them to divert their attention away from a low altitude, high workload maneuver (the riskiest combination) for no good reason.
I'm sure this post sounds biased on the pilot's side. It's not. I love air traffic controllers. I was just hired as an air traffic controller. Many controllers are outstanding at what they do. But some of them make fundamental mistakes and forget what their job is really about: providing service to pilots. Without pilots, there'd be no controllers. Yet without controllers, there'd still be pilots (that's how the early days of aviation were). There's a saying I've always loved that reveals a basic truth about the difference in roles of pilots and controllers, "Pilot screws up, pilot dies. Controller screws up, pilot dies."
That concludes my rant. I'll go-around from this post and make an effort to be more positive on my next one. Thanks for coming along.
I just watched a YouTube video of a Boeing 747 go-around at Manchester. The video was shot by a spotter on the ground. The approach appears normal, then suddenly the jet pitches up and a go-around is initiated. No problem. I'm sure there's a reason for it. The 747 roars by, the gear returns to the wells, and the crew announces a go-around to the tower. The tower gives the crew go-around instructions. So far, so good.
The airplane couldn't have been more than seven hundred feet above the ground when the tower asks, "Handle 123, could you advise the reason for the go-around please?" The reason?! None of your business, that's the reason! We're talking about a Boeing 747 here. These guys were seven hundred feet above the ground, beginning a turn to a heading, climbing, re-configuring the airplane, running checklists, and making an announcement to the cabin. They don't have time to be justifying their go-around to some guy in the tower. They're a professional flight crew. They spend hundreds of hours in simulators practicing these scenarios. They can go around anytime they darn well feel like, including when their gut tells them to. They're in charge of the safety and operation of their ship, not the guy in the tower. He tells them when the runway is free of obstructions so they can land on it if they so choose.
Go-arounds are high workload operations. The airplane is low, slow, and draggy, and its vertical direction must be reversed quickly while being re-configured for climb. Then follows the chores of initial navigation and communication (notice the communication piece is last). A go-around is no time for an air traffic controller (ATC) to be asking a pilot what happened. It's none of his concern. All he needs to know is that the airplane is going around and whether or not the crew intends to return for another landing attempt. If he's curious, and I don't blame him if he is, he must exercise radio discipline and keep his questions to himself and perhaps the other controllers in the tower cab. Sometimes they don't get to know. That's part of their job, and they need to cope with that. Radio communications are strictly about business, so anything a controller (or pilot) communicates should be for a good and useful reason. Being curious about what happened is not a good or useful reason.
Luckily, the crew refused to provide a reason for the go-around initially. The Tower handed the flight off to Departure Control, and the new controller immediately asked the crew the reason for the go-around. The crew again did not respond and instead verified the heading they needed to fly (gee, that might be more important than discussing the reason for something that happened in the past). The controller verified the heading and again asked the crew about the go-around. The crew finally caved and advised the go-around was executed due to the illumination of a "Gear Unsafe" warning light on short final. They troubleshot for a bit then came back in and landed uneventfully.
Now, perhaps air traffic controllers in the United Kingdom are trained to inquire about the reason for a go-around so they can determine whether or not a situation on the ground was the cause. For instance, wildlife or debris on the runway or loss of ILS signal reception. Those are things the folks on the ground can fix so that the runway stays safe for future operations. I certainly see the value in that. However, any pilot in the world would undoubtedly notify ATC without prompting if a go-around was caused by an obstruction on the runway or ground equipment. After all, a pilot who goes around will most likely wish to come back and try another approach to the same runway, and most of us are smart enough to know that the luggage we saw scattered across the approach end during the first attempt probably didn't remove itself from the runway. And if there was some sort of onboard equipment failure or need to declare an emergency, the pilot understands that its his duty to inform ATC of this and will do so without prompting.
But if these controllers must ask, they should at least be trained to wait a minimum of three minutes after the go-around is initiated to give the crew time to complete critical tasks and climb to a safe altitude. Controllers need to understand that pilots have much more important things to tend to during go-arounds than talking on the radio. The radio is a controller's entire world, and I think sometimes they forget it's not the same for pilots. Not even remotely. In fact, pilots at all certification levels are universally taught to always "communicate" last. That means communicating with ATC is one of our lowest priorities. Non-pilot controllers (which represent the vast majority of the controller workforce) must understand some of these basic principles by which pilots operate so that they can provide better service. For a controller, many times that means being quiet and waiting for the crew to let them know what type of assistance, if any, they need from him. It may be a few minutes -- they've got other things to worry about first like keeping the airplane under control and safely away from terrain (i.e. during a go-around).
As I've mentioned before, I believe a good controller knows the boundaries of his role and stays inside them at all times, even if that means tolerating a few minutes (or more) of ambiguity. Pilots deal with this all the time when controllers issue unexpected instructions in the form of course or altitude changes. We're not allowed to ask the reason for the instruction, we're required to comply immediately and stay quiet. That's critical to the operation of the ATC system. If every pilot queried a controller after a new instruction was received, frequencies would be so congested they'd be useless and the skies would be disorderly and chaotic. Sometimes we don't get to know. What we do always know, though, is that controllers are skilled professionals and anything they do is for a reason, so when they give us a re-route we execute it immediately instead of asking them to justify the new instruction. Controllers need to do the same for pilots. When a pilot makes a professional decision, controllers must assume it's for a good reason and give the pilot space to do what he needs to do. In the case of the above-mentioned go-around, that would mean the controller would acknowledge receipt of the crew's transmission announcing the go-around, providing them go-around instructions (for instance, heading and altitude assignments), and remain silent while the crew handles the situation. Asking the crew for non-essential information during the early stages of the go-around requires them to divert their attention away from a low altitude, high workload maneuver (the riskiest combination) for no good reason.
I'm sure this post sounds biased on the pilot's side. It's not. I love air traffic controllers. I was just hired as an air traffic controller. Many controllers are outstanding at what they do. But some of them make fundamental mistakes and forget what their job is really about: providing service to pilots. Without pilots, there'd be no controllers. Yet without controllers, there'd still be pilots (that's how the early days of aviation were). There's a saying I've always loved that reveals a basic truth about the difference in roles of pilots and controllers, "Pilot screws up, pilot dies. Controller screws up, pilot dies."
That concludes my rant. I'll go-around from this post and make an effort to be more positive on my next one. Thanks for coming along.
Friday, June 26, 2009
The Power of the Dial
I personally am very much looking forward to the return of round dial-style flight instruments. In my opinion, they beat vertical tapes any day. Human factors experts agree. The round dial with needle presentation has been proven to convey the greatest amount of information to the human brain in the shortest amount of time. Vindication!
I'm a young guy, raised around computers and technological gizmos and gadgets. I was writing HTML code when I was twelve, and I had just about every video gaming system that came out during the 1990s. I'm definitely no stranger to technology and the Digital Age. I must confess, however, that I have some heavy criticism for glass panel Primary Flight Displays (PFDs) that are finding their way into General Aviation cockpits. Most pilots from younger generations transition with ease into glass cockpits, and I was no exception. I was raised on steam gauges in legacy airplanes, and I didn't lay eyes on a glass panel cockpit (at least, in an airplane I was flying) until after I became a commercial pilot. I didn't truly start flying glass panel airplanes regularly until after I became a CFII, so my skills foundation is built upon old fashioned analog instruments. I was reluctant to transition into "the glass" because I naturally felt more comfortable behind a steam gauge panel. Eventually, though, times changed and I was forced to change right along with them when the flight academy I rent from and formerly taught at transitioned to an all-glass line. I suppose that was for the best because glass is certainly the way of the future.
GA pilots might not be aware that glass panels have been around for quite some time in jets. It wasn't until the last decade or so that glass panels significantly started spreading their way into GA cockpits. Certainly there is an overwhelming amount of improvement glass panels bring to cockpits in terms of reliability and information supply. And, in general I'm a huge fan of glass cockpits. The mission of this post is not to bash glass panel systems, it's to pick a specific bone with one element of glass panel PFD displays. Virtually everything else about glass panels is, in my opinion, fantastic. Multi-function Displays (MFDs) offer a wealth (sometimes surplus) of information to a pilot and do wonders to enhance situational awareness in many areas (position, fuel, weather). And the gigantic display of attitude on most modern PFDs is fantastic for reducing spatial disorientation. The only problem I have with these systems is the tape instruments for airspeed and altitude data.
Glass panel historians may correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe vertical tapes for airspeed and altitude indications were born out of a space necessity. And by space, I literally mean there wasn't enough room on the panel for traditional round gauge displays. One of the early PFD manufacturers figured out they could squeeze airspeed and altitude indications into the display by changing the instruments' presentation style to vertical tapes. In my opinion, that was too great of a compromise because vertical tape displays simply don't send information to the brain as efficiently as round dials. The tapes were invented, though, and became mainstream. Pilots adapted (as humans will), and tapes are now the norm in glass panel systems.
In my last post I mentioned how I like to keep things simple. That's because I've learned a decent amount about how the human brain functions during the years I've spent working with my own brain and the brains of others as a flight instructor. The human brain is quite expert at taking seemingly complex information and breaking it down into simple pieces that it can effectively digest and put into use. This break-down process takes time, though, so the fewer steps which the brain must complete to organize and label a sensory input, the faster the reaction time and the less chance for error. When we look at a tape display, we must process a number we see on the screen and decide what that number means to us (i.e. too fast, too slow, too high, too low). This involves a microsecond or two of comparing the number we see with our eyes to a number in our memory which we understand to be the current desired value. Any difference in those two numbers initiates another thought process about whether or not the deviation is within acceptable limits. Put simply, that's too much thinking. With a round dial, we glance at a needle and see where the needle is relative to a general position on the gauge. I like to think of dial-style gauges as having "neighborhoods." I know the airspeed needle will be in this neighborhood or general area for cruise flight, and it will move to this neighborhood for the approach phase. With round gauges we benefit from a simple pictorial display of relative information. Tapes can't do that for us. Round gauges also don't involve processing digits and comparing those digits with other digits in our minds.
I find it difficult not to fixate on the numbers readout on a tape display. This can actually make my flying sloppier because I'm focusing too much on insignificant numeric deviations and not on simply sending the airplane to the appropriate place in space. I can and do overcome this, but it takes more effort, and for what? To save some space on the panel? That doesn't seem like a good enough reason to me. So, here's what I'm proposing: let's create electronic screen displays of round dial gauges. The PFD I fly already does this for RPM information, but I don't use it because it lags behind my engine control inputs by a second or two. It's just not as satisfying at looking at a physical needle responding instantly to power changes. This can be improved, though, and I'm confident that PFD designers can find space for round gauges somewhere on the screen. Round dials are simply more compatible with human brains, and because human brains are currently the only brains commanding airplanes, I think it makes sense to equip our panels accordingly. Tapes will get the job done, but not as efficiently as dials.
I don't think tape displays will stand the test of time. I think I'll live to see round dial-style gauges make a comeback, and I'll be one of the first to celebrate. In the meantime, I'll do my best to continue my adaptation to tape displays, but I'll still be a firm believer in the power of the dial.
I'm a young guy, raised around computers and technological gizmos and gadgets. I was writing HTML code when I was twelve, and I had just about every video gaming system that came out during the 1990s. I'm definitely no stranger to technology and the Digital Age. I must confess, however, that I have some heavy criticism for glass panel Primary Flight Displays (PFDs) that are finding their way into General Aviation cockpits. Most pilots from younger generations transition with ease into glass cockpits, and I was no exception. I was raised on steam gauges in legacy airplanes, and I didn't lay eyes on a glass panel cockpit (at least, in an airplane I was flying) until after I became a commercial pilot. I didn't truly start flying glass panel airplanes regularly until after I became a CFII, so my skills foundation is built upon old fashioned analog instruments. I was reluctant to transition into "the glass" because I naturally felt more comfortable behind a steam gauge panel. Eventually, though, times changed and I was forced to change right along with them when the flight academy I rent from and formerly taught at transitioned to an all-glass line. I suppose that was for the best because glass is certainly the way of the future.
GA pilots might not be aware that glass panels have been around for quite some time in jets. It wasn't until the last decade or so that glass panels significantly started spreading their way into GA cockpits. Certainly there is an overwhelming amount of improvement glass panels bring to cockpits in terms of reliability and information supply. And, in general I'm a huge fan of glass cockpits. The mission of this post is not to bash glass panel systems, it's to pick a specific bone with one element of glass panel PFD displays. Virtually everything else about glass panels is, in my opinion, fantastic. Multi-function Displays (MFDs) offer a wealth (sometimes surplus) of information to a pilot and do wonders to enhance situational awareness in many areas (position, fuel, weather). And the gigantic display of attitude on most modern PFDs is fantastic for reducing spatial disorientation. The only problem I have with these systems is the tape instruments for airspeed and altitude data.
Glass panel historians may correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe vertical tapes for airspeed and altitude indications were born out of a space necessity. And by space, I literally mean there wasn't enough room on the panel for traditional round gauge displays. One of the early PFD manufacturers figured out they could squeeze airspeed and altitude indications into the display by changing the instruments' presentation style to vertical tapes. In my opinion, that was too great of a compromise because vertical tape displays simply don't send information to the brain as efficiently as round dials. The tapes were invented, though, and became mainstream. Pilots adapted (as humans will), and tapes are now the norm in glass panel systems.
In my last post I mentioned how I like to keep things simple. That's because I've learned a decent amount about how the human brain functions during the years I've spent working with my own brain and the brains of others as a flight instructor. The human brain is quite expert at taking seemingly complex information and breaking it down into simple pieces that it can effectively digest and put into use. This break-down process takes time, though, so the fewer steps which the brain must complete to organize and label a sensory input, the faster the reaction time and the less chance for error. When we look at a tape display, we must process a number we see on the screen and decide what that number means to us (i.e. too fast, too slow, too high, too low). This involves a microsecond or two of comparing the number we see with our eyes to a number in our memory which we understand to be the current desired value. Any difference in those two numbers initiates another thought process about whether or not the deviation is within acceptable limits. Put simply, that's too much thinking. With a round dial, we glance at a needle and see where the needle is relative to a general position on the gauge. I like to think of dial-style gauges as having "neighborhoods." I know the airspeed needle will be in this neighborhood or general area for cruise flight, and it will move to this neighborhood for the approach phase. With round gauges we benefit from a simple pictorial display of relative information. Tapes can't do that for us. Round gauges also don't involve processing digits and comparing those digits with other digits in our minds.
I find it difficult not to fixate on the numbers readout on a tape display. This can actually make my flying sloppier because I'm focusing too much on insignificant numeric deviations and not on simply sending the airplane to the appropriate place in space. I can and do overcome this, but it takes more effort, and for what? To save some space on the panel? That doesn't seem like a good enough reason to me. So, here's what I'm proposing: let's create electronic screen displays of round dial gauges. The PFD I fly already does this for RPM information, but I don't use it because it lags behind my engine control inputs by a second or two. It's just not as satisfying at looking at a physical needle responding instantly to power changes. This can be improved, though, and I'm confident that PFD designers can find space for round gauges somewhere on the screen. Round dials are simply more compatible with human brains, and because human brains are currently the only brains commanding airplanes, I think it makes sense to equip our panels accordingly. Tapes will get the job done, but not as efficiently as dials.
I don't think tape displays will stand the test of time. I think I'll live to see round dial-style gauges make a comeback, and I'll be one of the first to celebrate. In the meantime, I'll do my best to continue my adaptation to tape displays, but I'll still be a firm believer in the power of the dial.
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