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.

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.

Cancelling IFR

You're flying under instrument flight rules in the clouds. Air traffic control has just assigned you a lower altitude as you approach your destination airport. Suddenly, zero visibility magically turns to fifteen miles visibility as you punch through the bottom of the cloud layer, and you see the runway. A clean breakout. The weather is beyond adequate for a visual approach, so you key up and say, "Approach, Five Mike Bravo, airport in sight, cancelling IFR." The controller responds with routine in his voice, "Five Mike Bravo, roger. IFR cancellation received. Radar service terminated, squawk VFR, frequency change approved. Good day." You land, secure the airplane, and are approached by a stranger on the ramp. He asks, "What'd you break out at?" A few more casual questions are asked about your approach, and just when you think you've made a new pilot buddy he says, "I'm an FAA Aviation Safety Inspector. Expect to receive a Letter of Investigation from Flight Standards shortly." Doh!

Okay, maybe I'm being a bit extreme. But I've heard of things similar to this hypothetical situation actually happening to pilots. If you're wondering what in the world was illegal about that flight, come along with me and let's explore a few things. I like to keep things simple. So, let's get simple here. When you're operating an aircraft in the National Airspace System, you're operating under one of two sets of flight rules: Visual Flight Rules (VFR) or Instrument Flight Rules (IFR). I'm omitting Special VFR and Defense VFR because they are so seldom used. When you're operating under VFR you must comply with one set of rules, and when you're operating IFR you must comply with a different set of rules. With me? Simple, right? There's no halfway gray world between VFR and IFR where some rules apply from here and some rules apply from there. Quite simply, you're either VFR or IFR, and it's extremely simple for a pilot to know which set of rules he's operating under at any given time.

You're operating under VFR anytime you do not have an IFR clearance, or anytime you terminate or "cancel" your IFR clearance. You're operating under IFR anytime you have been released into the National Airspace System with an IFR clearance until you land and/or cancel that IFR clearance. Simple. Now, let's return to the hypothetical flight at the beginning and apply this logic to that situation to find out where the regulations were violated. When you broke out of the clouds and saw the airport you immediately canceled IFR. ATC immediately acknowledged receipt of your IFR cancellation, so that means at that moment you instantly reverted to operating under VFR (remember, you can't operate under both at once). Assuming you were flying in Class E airspace that means the VFR cloud clearance requirement of five hundred feet below clouds was likely violated, unless you were in a vertical dive. You were, perhaps, only one hundred feet below the clouds when you abruptly transitioned to VFR operations. That's a violation, plain and simple. I heard a pilot on frequency just the other day who broke out of the clouds mid-transmission and canceled IFR immediately. I guess he didn't understand the nature of cancelling IFR. When you cancel IFR, you cancel all of it. Not part of it, all of it. IFR goes sailing into the slipstream, and if you can't maintain legal VFR weather minimums at that moment, you're in violation of the regulations.

The proper way to handle our hypothetical flight would've been to continue the descent, if possible, until five hundred feet below the cloud bases and then cancel IFR. Just ask yourself, "Am I in VFR conditions right now?" If not, cancelling IFR is not an option. You'll need to request an instrument approach procedure to get you to the airport legally (and safely if the conditions are marginal). Even then, though, the same rules apply. Breaking out on the localizer doesn't grant you permission to cancel IFR. Not until you're in compliance with legal VFR weather minimums. These rules are in place for your protection. They prevent IFR guys exiting a cloud from colliding with VFR guys lurking just outside the boundary of a cloud. The rules exist to allow IFR pilots leaving instrument conditions time to re-establish visual contact with the outside world with enough time to avoid any potential conflicts with VFR traffic not being controlled by ATC. That's why in Class B airspace where all aircraft (VFR and IFR) are being positively controlled by ATC the VFR cloud clearance requirement shrinks to simply "clear of clouds." The regulation then becomes a matter not of collision avoidance but of preventing loss of control accidents involving non-instrument rated pilots. I concede the point that if you just canceled IFR that there shouldn't be anyone within a matter of miles of you for at least a minute or two, but that's not what's important. What is important is that you are no longer guaranteed separation from other traffic, and that means an increase in risk. Not to mention it's illegal and could get you into enforcement trouble. Besides, waiting another few hundred feet during descent to cancel IFR is almost never an inconvenience.

While pre-maturely cancelling IFR is a minor infraction, it's still enough to cause legal and/or safety problems. You never know who might be watching or listening. I think the reason pilots pre-maturely cancel IFR is because they fundamentally misunderstand exactly what it is they're doing when they key up and cancel. Remember, keep it simple. You're either VFR or IFR, never both. Make sure you can comply with the set of rules you're about to transition into before cancelling IFR.

Circuit Breakers

An in-flight fire is one of the scariest and most serious emergencies a pilot can face. Smoke and heat can quickly incapacitate the pilot or make it difficult to see the instrument panel or to see outside of the airplane. Fire can also damage critical flight instruments. Attempting to vent smoke by opening a window or door can make things worse by supplying the fire with additional oxygen. A pilot may only have several minutes to get the airplane on the ground after a fire has started. In-flight fires are bad news. It's for these reasons that we need to do everything within our power to minimize the chances of starting an in-flight fire.

If I asked the average General Aviation pilot what he'd do if a circuit breaker popped in flight, he'd probably give me the typical response that he'd reset the breaker once and if it popped out again, he'd leave it alone. Most light airplane pilots are familiar with this protocol. That's not necessarily the best idea, though.

In January of 2004 the FAA issued an Advisory Circular (AC), AC120-80, "In-Flight Fires," in response to several in-flight fire-related accidents including the crash of a Swissair MD-11. The AC was widely distributed throughout the air carrier community, but not throughout the General Aviation community. The AC provides guidance on responding to tripped circuit breakers in-flight. Airline crews now use procedures that discourage (or prohibit) resetting a tripped circuit breaker in-flight unless the breaker corresponds to an essential electrical component. Many jets have an "essential" electrical bus and a "non-essential" electrical bus. Non-essential breakers typically are not reset even once during flight unless absolutely required to maintain safety of flight. Essential breakers may be reset minimally per company guidelines. But, why am I talking about circuit breakers?

Electrical fires have occurred because a defect in the electrical system (malfunctioning electrical component, faulty wiring, etcetera) prompted a circuit breaker trip and the crew reset the breaker, perhaps multiple times, until a fire eventually started. So, the idea is that when a circuit breaker pops it usually does so for a good reason, so resetting it must be done with caution and only if necessary for continued safety of flight. Occasionally a transient event will pop a breaker, though, so resetting a breaker once is not necessarily a reckless thing to do. It just depends. The airlines have an excellent system in place for dealing with tripped breakers, and so can us GA guys.

Though we can't rearrange our circuit breaker panels into essential and non-essential breaker head clusters, we do have other options for organizing them. One excellent strategy is to use color-coded breaker bands to distinguish between essential and non-essential breakers. If you rent airplanes like I do, this might not be possible. The solution then becomes to rely on your memory to know which breakers you can reset once and which ones must be left alone in-flight. Luckily, this isn't extra difficult to memorize because light airplanes don't have nearly as many breakers as larger, more complex airplanes. Start by referring to the airplane's Pilot's Operating Handbook (POH) to determine what the manufacturer recommends on resetting popped circuit breakers. This is always the best starting point for systems guidance because no one knows the airplane better than the folks who designed and built it, so their word supersedes all other recommendations. Where POH guidance lacks, though, universal rules-of-thumb can pick up the slack and provide useful solutions. By combining POH guidance with some general know-how you should be able to determine which breakers may be reset in-flight and which ones to leave alone. Even if an essential breaker pops, it should only be reset after the pilot has confirmed that the corresponding electrical component isn't obviously malfunctioning (i.e. the turn coordinator appears to be smoking). Also understand that should an in-flight fire begin, you might not be able to make it to an airport. It's quite possible that an off-airport landing is your best bet. The name of the game is to get the airplane on the ground in the shortest possible time after detecting an in-flight fire. Remember, you may only have a few minutes. The instant you suspect a fire has started start looking for the nearest suitable landing spot.

You can also limit your exposure to the risk of an in-flight fire by never flying an airplane that has an unresolved electrical system squawk. One common example of this would be to refuse a rental airplane that has a failed electrical component that hasn't been placarded "Inoperative" and doesn't have the corresponding circuit breaker collared. There's a reason that placard is required by the regulations, and there has been at least once accident that I know of that resulted from an airborne weather radar that had a known malfunction yet hadn't been placarded inoperative nor had its circuit breaker been collared. Anytime an electrical component has malfunctioned on a recent flight the airplane should be inspected by a mechanic before the airplane returns to service.

To summarize, never reset a circuit breaker in-flight unless the corresponding electrical component is absolutely critical to the continued safety of the flight. When flying VFR during daytime in good weather, this could easily mean there's not a single circuit breaker that should be reset. When flying IFR in low weather, a number of breakers might be considered essential for safety of flight and would be necessary to reset. Above all else, follow the specific guidance and recommendations contained in the aircraft's POH. Remember to always bring a couple trustworthy flashlights (I passionately recommend SureFire products) for night flights, too. I once flew a Piper Cherokee on a cross-country flight over the Great Plains at night with no electrical power. The cockpit was as dark as the night and all I had was a flashlight to provide occasional glances at the magnetic compass; the rest of the panel was unusable. Luckily, this was only a training exercise during my commercial pilot training. And aside from a map being draped over the instrument panel to test my pilot improvisational skills, this situation can occur and a flashlight becomes a rather critical piece of equipment.

I'm not easily scared as a pilot. But the thought of an in-flight fire is particularly frightening to me, as it is for many pilots. We can drastically reduce our chances of ever encountering this dreadful emergency by using intelligent procedures and preparing ourselves so that we can respond immediately and properly if faced with an in-flight fire. The recommendations I've provided here are inspired by FAA AC120-80, and when they are used they will greatly reduce your chances of ever meeting with an in-flight fire.

Three Green

Don't you just love the sound landing gear makes as it extends into the slipstream? What a delightful sound to hear an electro-hydraulic landing gear system dutifully spring to life as the gear lever is moved to the down position. The sounds of machinery and slipstream noise... these are the sounds pilots like. Slipstream noise increases to a low roar as the gear clunks into locked position. Three green indicator lights illuminate as one red light extinguishes in the cockpit, and you've got wheels beneath you. Major cool.

I use the phrase, "Three green, no red" when verifying the landing gear is ready for landing. "Three green" means, of course, all three wheels are extended and locked. "No red" means the red "Gear Unsafe" light has extinguished indicating the gear has completed the extension cycle and is no longer in transition, and that the gear pumps are off. I vocalize this phrase at least three times before landing; once after the cycle has completed, once or twice during intermediate approach (i.e. on downwind and base or a two mile final), and finally once when "crossing the fence" on short final. This system of redundant gear position checks ensures I will never commit the dreaded gear-up landing.

Luckily, gear-up landing accidents do not normally involve injuries to the occupants of the airplane. The only injury is typically to the pilot's ego and to his airplane. Engine (and propeller) damage can result from a prop strike, and flaps (when extended in a low-wing airplane) and the underside of the airplane will certainly take a beating. The worst thing about these accidents happening, though, is how preventable they are. Landing gear-up is downright silly, especially in airplanes with landing gear warning systems. In the Piper Arrow I used to fly a gear warning horn would blare and a red "Gear Unsafe" light would illuminate when the manifold pressure was reduced beyond a certain value or other parameters were met if the gear wasn't down. Even with a headset on, I don't know how any pilot could miss that. But pilots have. I once saw a video shot from the backseat of a light retractable gear airplane where the gear warning horn sounded for a matter of minutes before the airplane landed gear-up on the runway. The two "pilots" in front were chatting over the warning horn throughout the entire approach (maybe they'll read my "Sterile Cockpit" post). These individuals obviously weren't using checklists either.

I've never met a pilot who wasn't familiar with the acronym "GUMPS"; gas, undercarriage, mixture, props and pumps, seatbelts and switches. This universal Before Landing Checklist works fairly well in many light airplanes and includes the landing gear as a checklist item. Standardizing when and where the GUMPS or Before Landing Checklist is performed, and therefore where the gear is extended, helps to guard against forgetting to extend the gear during approach. I always perform the checklist and extend the gear on mid-field downwind. If I'm on a straight-in I'll use altitude as my checklist cue; when descending through 1,000 feet above touchdown zone the checklist is completed and the gear is lowered. By standardizing the point at which your checklist is conducted you're conditioning yourself to feel anxious if that point has passed and the checklist has not yet been completed (i.e. if you forgot). The feeling of unease should then prompt you to perform the checklist. There's a saying in aviation, "Only the paranoid survive." I don't know if paranoid is the right word, but certainly only the cautious and conscientious survive.

Let's all be careful out there and work together to reduce the number of gear-up landing accidents that occur each year. That seems like an easy one to knock out because preventing these accidents is so easily within our immediate control. I've mentioned listening to your airplane in a previous post. Well, listening to your airplane applies here too in a much more literal way. If you hear your landing gear warning system hollering at you, listen up and fix the problem! You'll instantly be treated to that wonderful sound of in-transit gear and increasing slipstream noise.

ATC and Weather Avoidance

Imagine this: you're cruising along in instrument meteorological conditions (IMC) in an airplane without weather detection/avoidance equipment. You know from your pre-flight weather briefing and from chatter on the air traffic control frequency that there is some heavy precipitation in the vicinity. ATC is busy approving pilots' requests for weather deviations. The cloud around you starts to turn dark and the cockpit dims. Some light then moderate rain starts to splatter on the windshield, and it starts getting bumpy. The flying begins to get difficult and airspeed and altitude fluctuations are occurring. You suspect you may be flying toward a thunderstorm, but you rest assured that ATC is keeping an eye on your position and will advise you of any weather ahead and suggest a course alteration. You're safe, right? Wrong. ATC does not separate aircraft from weather, it separates aircraft from aircraft.

I've always had a special interest in air traffic control since before I started flying. Throughout my flying career it has been one of my areas of specialty and I've acquired much expertise on this topic through formal training and independent study. I also recently accepted a job offer to become an air traffic controller. As I've worked with flight students and interacted with my peers, I've frequently been astonished by how little most pilots know about the ATC system. Pilots aren't required to have in-depth knowledge of the ATC system because, after all, they're pilots and not controllers. However, knowing as much about what the guy on the other side of the radio is doing can be of great tactical assistance to pilots when flying in the system. For instance, understanding that ATC is not required to separate your aircraft from hazardous weather is not only helpful for a pilot to know, it's imperative. Fatal accidents have occurred in the past because pilots did not know this and flew headlong into dangerous weather because they thought ATC was looking after them.

The primary function and role of ATC is to separate IFR traffic. Period. Just about anything else a controller does is on a workload-permitting basis and is somewhat optional (for instance, providing VFR flight following radar advisories or providing detailed information about severe weather in the area). ATC is not in any way responsible for keeping airplanes away from thunderstorms, areas of severe icing, severe turbulence, or any other weather-related hazard. That job lies with the pilot-in-command and no one else. Some pilots have gotten spoiled by extra helpful controllers who go out of their way to assist aircraft in avoiding hazardous weather. Perhaps these pilots think that because they've heard controllers suggesting headings for aircraft to fly to avoid areas of heavy or extreme precipitation that controllers are required to do this for all aircraft, so they relinquish their pilot-in-command responsibility of avoiding dangerous weather to ATC. That is a dangerous mistake to make, and it causes pilots who are under this impression to relieve themselves of their accountability for keeping the flight safely away from hazardous weather. Once this happens neither the pilot nor ATC is keeping the aircraft away from the hazard, and the pilot is in for a rude awakening when the aircraft roams its way into a thunderstorm.

Air traffic controllers are highly trained professionals. They know their role and what's required of them extremely thoroughly. They are also educated on the boundaries of their role, where their influence over the flight must stop and give way to the pilot's decisions. You can observe this with clarity when adverse weather is around. For instance, when thunderstorms exist in a controller's sector of airspace he is operating with the understanding that the pilots he's communicating with are aware of the thunderstorms' position and intensity, or if they're not that the pilot has evaluated the general weather situation and concluded that the conditions do not pose a threat to the flight. The controller is depending on the pilots to let him know what they need in order to separate themselves from the weather, and he'll do his best to approve their requests while still maintaining separation of air traffic. Controllers know that it is not their responsibility to hold your hand and help you pick your way through convective activity. And while some controllers are more helpful than others during times of bad weather, pilots must not depend on this as a crutch to compensate for their lack of planning or inability to find their way through the weather on their own because they do not have weather detection/avoidance gear aboard. It's also important to note that most controllers are not pilots, and they may not have as great of an understanding of weather and its effects on flight operations as you think they do.

Controllers can be a tremendous help and valuable resource to assist pilots with avoiding dangerous weather, but if the controller is extra busy or grouchy we may be on our own. That's okay, and that's how the system was designed to function. Pilots are expected to be the experts on knowing exactly what their flight needs to stay safe, not controllers. Controllers are there to keep you from bumping into another aircraft. Many pilots rely too heavily on controllers to keep them out of dangerous weather, and it's this lack of personal responsibility and accountability that makes the system fail occasionally (i.e. when an airplane is lost to a thunderstorm because the pilot refused to perform his role of keeping the airplane away from the thunderstorm). There have literally been instances where controllers have silently watched their radar scope as airplanes have traveled directly into extreme precipitation. Controllers are entitled to think, "Well, the pilot must know what he's doing. It's not my airplane. I assume if he needs deviations around that cell that he'll tell me. Until then, he's in charge." In fact, I believe that's in good form. A good controller knows his role and performs it fully and properly while simultaneously respecting the pilot's role and leaving the pilot space to make his own professional decisions. Again, that's the way the system is designed to work, and when a good controller meets a good pilot on frequency, the two work together in perfect harmony.

So, remember, you're the pilot-in-command. Step up into that role. You're the authority, and you're responsible for keeping your aircraft safe. No one else, including ATC, is tasked with that responsibility. If you're too insecure to handle that level of responsibility, you have no business flying airplanes. Too many accidents have occurred (weather related and others) because the pilot-in-command was not actually in command at all, and he was unable to step up and take the reins when things got serious. When it comes to weather avoidance, step up and take the reins because ATC is not going to do that for you, nor should they. When a pilot refuses to keep up his end of the weather avoidance bargain and depends on someone else (ATC) to do it, the system fails and flight safety is compromised.

When there's weather around that poses a threat to flight safety, key up and let ATC know exactly what you need. Be specific, and be confident. They'll do everything they can to accommodate you, and they'll feel comforted that you're taking responsibility for the safety of your flight. Pilot-controller interaction always works best when both parties know their roles and responsibilities and carry them out while respecting and honoring the other's duties.

Sterile Cockpit

Sterile cockpits are distraction-free cockpits. And I'm not talking about a sparkling yoke and throttle with "sanitized for your protection" ribbons around the front seats. And, no, a sterile cockpit does not mean the crew is prohibited from using bad words or conversing about unwholesome topics at all times on the flight deck. A sterile cockpit is a cockpit without non-operational chatter, usually during taxi, takeoff and climb, and approach and landing. In more general terms, sterile cockpit is utilized in the vicinity of an airport and during high workload and high risk phases of flight. It's also used during in-flight emergencies.

I'll provide a little more detail for those pilots who are not familiar with the sterile cockpit concept. In simple plain language, sterile cockpit requires the pilot(s) and passengers (if not separated by a door or isolating intercom system) to refrain from engaging in non-essential discussion that is not directly related to the operation of the aircraft or safety of flight. For instance, talking about high fuel prices on short final would be a violation of sterile cockpit, but a co-pilot or first officer alerting the captain to wildlife on the runway would not be a violation. The cockpit is considered "sterilized" when the only conversation between crew and, if applicable, passengers is restricted only to the task at hand and nothing else. The idea here is to eliminate distractions in the cockpit during critical phases of flight.

Many aviation regulations and airline policies were "written in blood," meaning the new rules were born in response to a serious incident or crash. Sterile cockpit regulations are no exception. Airlines started using sterile cockpit procedures after a series of aircraft accidents occurred where the crew could be heard discussing non-essential (sometimes utterly unrelated) items on the cockpit voice recorder shortly before the crash. The distraction created by these off-topic conversations was determined to be the leading cause or at least significant link in the accident chain of these crashes. The FAA and airlines decided that crews must be required to focus solely on the operation of the aircraft during key phases of flight to prevent future distraction-related accidents. Airline crews now typically must maintain sterile cockpit from pushback through taxi, takeoff, and initial climb. The crew may elect to suspend sterile cockpit after passing 10,000 feet MSL. The reverse applies on descent and arrival. Sterile cockpit must be resumed below 10,000 feet and remain in effect until shutdown. The sterile cockpit rule seems to have helped reduce distraction-related accidents, although there have still been a few over the years, usually where crews were violating sterile cockpit and forgot to carry out certain checklist items, etcetera. The recent crash of Colgan 3407 is a prime example of a blatant and intentional violation of sterile cockpit procedures resulting in distraction causing the crew to forget an important checklist item. Some will contend that this wasn't the primary reason for the crash, and I agree, but it was certainly an important link in the chain of events that led to the loss of control.

Pilots of non-transport airplanes typically do not use sterile cockpit procedures because their use is not currently required by regulation. That is unfortunate, and I believe all pilots should use and enforce these anti-distraction procedures. Because light airplanes lack the explicit guidance that the airlines receive about where and when to use sterile cockpit, pilots of these airplanes should create their own policies and brief their passengers on them before every flight. My sterile cockpit begins at engine start and remains in effect through taxi, run-up, takeoff, and initial climb. It may be suspended after ten miles from the departure airport unless the aircraft is penetrating complex airspace or there is some other special circumstance that requires additional quiet time. Many light airplanes cruise below 10,000 feet MSL and climb more slowly than airline jets, so using the airlines' protocol of maintaining sterile cockpit at all times below 10,000 feet doesn't work. It's better to think in terms of lateral distance for us since we don't fly as high. On descent and arrival I'll resume sterile cockpit within ten miles of the arrival airport and maintain it during approach, landing, and taxi in until the engine is shutdown. I always include a sterile cockpit portion in my pre-flight briefing to my passengers informing them that all chit-chat must be put on hold during sterile times, and if they see something that they think directly relates to safety of flight to tell me. I let them know that I'll tell them when sterile cockpit periods begin and end. Remember, you're the pilot in command and it's your responsibility to brief your passengers on these things. This is important information, and these procedures are designed to keep you and your passengers alive.

Sterile cockpit procedures should be used routinely every flight, even at your home field where you know every crack in the taxiway. Familiarity often leads to complacency, and complacency very often leads to accidents. And just because you're familiar with the airport doesn't mean the pilots in the airplane that just landed are, and they could make a wrong turn onto your runway during your takeoff run. The FAA has deemed runway incursions as a safety hot spot in recent years, and most runway incursions are caused by GA airplanes. Maybe part of the reason for this is because most GA guys don't use sterile cockpit procedures. Most runway incursions are caused by crew distraction. Engaging in unrelated banter as you cross an active runway is a bad idea, and even if you think you're a good multi-tasker you're still a human, and the human brain works best when all of its resources are devoted to only the task at hand. Once off the ground, sterile cockpit is just as important for purposes of collision avoidance as well as checklist tasks and initial navigation and air traffic control communication.

Sterile cockpit procedures are another great idea gleaned from the airlines for GA pilots. The idea behind these procedures is that a human brain does a better job of keeping the flight safe when all its resources are as undivided as possible. Distractions don't belong in cockpits. A sterile cockpit yields a sterile mind, and sterile minds are less likely to crash airplanes.

Stabilized Approach

Last summer I flew in the back of an MD-80 on my way to Florida by way of Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport. I was seated over the wing and I watched as the ailerons and roll spoilers flapped about rhythmically all the way down final until touchdown on DFW's Runway 17 Center. Like many other airline flights I've been on, I also noticed large pitch and power excursions which intensified as we progressed toward the runway. As I'm sure many of my readers have done, I've also watched many YouTube videos of airliner landings, recorded both from the passenger cabin and from the flight deck, and I've seen this happening in the majority of these videos. I enjoy the flight deck videos because I'm often able to observe the pilot flying pushing, pulling, turning, and tussling with the yoke all the way down final. Of course, many general aviation pilots fly approaches this way, too. But, there's a better way.

I feel that the approach and landing phase reveals a great deal about a pilot's ability to be master of his or her machine. It is the phase of flight which requires proper technique to be executed correctly with efficiency and grace, and any imperfections in flying technique are often revealed here. This is because while approaching a runway the pilot has a target: the aiming point on the runway. And during landing the pilot must contact a very fixed and very unforgiving runway gently and at the correct spot and speed. This kind of precision usually is not required during any other phase of flight. Landing is one of the most difficult things we pilots do, and the accident statistics concur. Approach and landing accidents represent a large chunk of total accidents; luckily, many are not fatal. Accident data also indicates that many approach and landing accidents are the result of unstabilized approaches.

A stabilized approach is defined as the airplane being established on the proper glide (airspeed, power setting[s], and descent angle) and track, and minimal, if any, control inputs from the pilot are necessary. That means the airplane is at the appropriate approach speed (or landing reference speed when closer in), at a constant power setting which produces the proper glide angle, on a constant heading that will keep the airplane aligned with the runway, and in the proper aircraft configuration. Wind correction should also be included depending on the airplane or pilot technique (crab or wing-low method). Once you're established and the airplane is on power and in trim, sit back and ride the invisible glide rails to the aiming point where the flare should begin. Very minimal control input should be needed until it's time to change things for the flare maneuver. If you find yourself wrestling with the yoke, rudder pedals, and throttle(s) just remember that somewhere nestled inside all that frantic movement is the proper control position. Usually, only one fixed magic spot on the yoke exists until the flare. The same is true for the throttle(s) and rudder pedals. When you slop the flight controls around in incessant movement all the way down final you're engaging in a series of over-correcting oscillations. This will still get you to the runway, but with much wasted energy, sloppy flying technique, a greater chance of a bad or dangerous landing, and uncomfortable passengers. You'll also waste fuel if you're constantly changing power settings because when you do this you're continuously slowing down then speeding back up. Hidden right in the middle of those oscillations is the proper value, and all you need to do is set the power there and leave it alone. If it were possible to mathematically average, for instance, pitch oscillations that occurred during a sloppy approach, we'd find the single proper pitch attitude that would've sent the airplane to exactly the same place in space but without all the ups and downs. Tiny power changes might be required every now and then to keep the airplane on the proper glide path, but they should be small and few and far between. Try watching an approach video recorded from the flight deck on YouTube in time lapse by dragging the video progress ball forward manually. When the video is sped up the pitch and roll excursions become easier to see, and it appears as though the airplane is "homing" on the runway like a missile gyrating toward its target. Things get a whole lot easier and more efficient if you just take the direct route to the runway instead of constantly making minute changes to heading, pitch attitude, airspeed, and power setting(s).

For a given set of circumstances (aircraft weight, air density, wind, required glide angle, aircraft configuration) there is always a singular exact proper position for the ailerons, elevator (or stabilator), rudder, and power setting(s). This is the essence of the stabilized approach. Dipping, swooping, banking, and deviating from proper glide path and airspeed is nothing other than sloppy flying, and it's unnecessary. If you need more convincing, I've got an experiment for you to try. If your airplane is equipped with an approach capable autopilot, take it out and let it fly an ILS approach to two hundred feet. You'll still have to set the power manually (unless you fly an auto-throttle equipped jet!), so set it at the appropriate value and do not change it for the rest of the approach. Observe as your autopilot flies the approach, perfectly stabilized with extremely little control movement. If your autopilot can do it, so can you.

The only exception to all of this, of course, is when gusty winds are about. During those conditions the wind direction and velocity may be constantly shifting, therefore renewed control application will be required on a second-by-second basis. There is nothing improper about that, and your autopilot would do it the same way. In smooth (or mostly smooth) air, though, there's no excuse for imposing a hand and feet spasm on the flight controls. The only time an approach calls for constantly changing control inputs is when the wind is also constantly changing. If the wind is calm, your hands and feet should be, too.

Most airlines have policies regarding stabilized approaches. For instance, a policy might require that the airplane be "in the slot" (stabilized on speed, on glide path, and properly configured) by five hundred feet above the surface. If the approach is not stabilized by five hundred feet the crew must execute a mandatory go-around. These policies are great and are aimed at reducing landing accidents. Pilots of general aviation airplanes should use these guidelines, too. Our go-around altitudes can be lower, perhaps two hundred feet, since we're not required to reverse as much inertia as jets, but the rest of the requirements should remain the same. If the airplane isn't in the slot at the minimum altitude, go-around and do a better job on the next approach.

Next time you find yourself harassing the flight controls take a moment to intentionally stop all yoke movement. You'll probably find that the approach continues in about the same way as it was with all the man-handling, so really all you were accomplishing was releasing some of your nervous energy, which, ironically, was probably being produced by your insecurity about landing an airplane. Good airmanship involves a gentle touch. A pilot should never "wrestle" his airplane, only the wind and weather. The airplane is on your side, so keep the communication lines open and listen to what it is telling you. Your approaches will become less stressful and more stabilized.

Follow the Leader

On July 9, 1982 a Boeing 727 crashed shortly after takeoff from New Orleans International Airport. All aboard were killed plus eight people on the ground, and six houses were destroyed. There was a thunderstorm in progress at the airport as the flight rolled down runway 10. Almost immediately after the airplane lifted off a microburst violently slammed it right back down. Similar-type airplanes had successfully taken off ahead of the 727, and the crew's decision to takeoff in questionable weather conditions seems to have been influenced by this. They must've thought, "If they made it, so can we." They were wrong. One hundred and forty-six people died as a result of their mistake. This is not the only accident of this nature.

Humans are pack animals. Deep down inside of us is thousands of years of conditioning that leads us to believe if other people are doing it, it must be okay for us to do too. This primitive "follow the leader" instinct can lead pilots into dangerous situations if it goes unchecked. In New Orleans that day there were other pilots who decided to takeoff despite the risky weather conditions. When I read this accident report I could almost see the thought bubbles above the crew thinking, "Well, everyone else is doing it." Think of this as subconscious peer pressure. These pilots took comfort in the fact that other aircraft had successfully taken off right before them, and they became falsely reassured that they could do the same. Their pack instincts clouded their decision making and these pilots failed to accurately and objectively assess the risk level associated with the current weather conditions affecting their takeoff. The result was disastrous.

Weather is extremely dynamic. It changes quickly and sometimes unexpectedly. It is not bound by rules and regulations, and no matter how badly we want it to behave a certain way it will never oblige. Don't expect it to. The weather is in charge of us, not the other way around. Just because ten airplanes on approach ahead of you successfully negotiated a windy and turbulent final during a thunderstorm does not in any way suggest that you will be able to do the same. Just imagine you're the only aircraft in flight at that moment and think about what you would do. This will help you manage the hazardous "follow the leader" mentality and make a wise and healthy decision. Objectivity is key. Don't think about the King Air ahead of you that just landed successfully. You're not him, you're you, and the weather Mother Nature has prepared for you may be completely different than the weather the King Air encountered. Thunderstorms especially are a rapidly changing weather phenomenon and can produce extremely dangerous conditions that weren't present a mere sixty seconds earlier. Microbursts, one of the most lethal byproducts of heavy precipitation, can form quickly and unexpectedly, and many airliners have been lost to microbursts over the years because pilots forged their way into dangerous weather because, after all, everyone else was doing it. Sometimes nature is picky and will only choose one aircraft out of a large stack of inbounds to have its way with. The guy before you could've made it, and the guy after you could make it. That means nothing about your circumstances, so eject this piece of information from your decision making process when it comes to questionable weather situations.

I once watched a video recreation of an incident which occurred at the Daytona Beach International Airport involving a formation flight of several general aviation airplanes. The tower cleared the flight to land then watched as the formation leader inadvertently landed on a taxiway parallel to the assigned runway. Each of the other airplanes then followed the leader landing one after another on the same taxiway. The tower tried several times to interrupt the sequence but none of the pilots listened. Clearly these pilots were under the influence of "pack blindness," thinking not for themselves as they should've been but as one big defective group of pilots. This is the same mental phenomenon that leads pilots into dangerous weather instead of objectively and honestly evaluating the current weather affecting their airplane.

Our pack animal instincts must be managed while flying. As aviation hero Richard L. Collins says, "Weather is what you get, not what you expect to get." The more realistic our expectations are, the better prepared we will be to handle the actuality of the circumstances affecting our flight instead of resisting them with futility. And remember, following the leader may lead you directly into the lion's den.

Glide Range

[A post for curious non-pilots...]

"What happens if the engine quits?" Most pilots have been asked this question at some point during their flying career. It seems that society has been the victim of substantial conditioning on this subject. I wonder if survey statistics have ever been compiled to indicate the leading fear of the average airline passenger. This has got to be the winner. Many people believe certain doom is the only possible result after an airplane loses power in its engine(s). And why wouldn't they? Consider how many movies depict horrifying scenes of airplane crashes caused by engine trouble. Passengers are under the impression that if the engine (or engines) quits, the airplane will fall from the sky like a rock. What a dreadful misapprehension these nervous flyers must live with. Luckily, they're wrong.

Remember making paper airplanes as a kid? Did you ever attach an engine to one of them? Your airplane was nothing more than a folded up piece of paper, yet when you threw it, it didn't fall from your hand like a rock, right? That's because your airplane was aerodynamic. Perhaps its lift-to-drag ratio wasn't quite up to par with the modern airline jet, but it was still aerodynamic and that's what allowed it to travel through the air differently than a rock, pencil, pillow or anything else you could throw across the room. Essentially, you created a glider. Human-flown gliders like the Schweizer 1-26 are flown by pilots everyday without engines. This is because it is not the engine that makes an airplane fly, it's the wings.

As a wing, or airfoil, moves forward through the air it creates lift. This lift makes an airplane fly. The engine (or engines, in the case of large airplanes) is only there to propel the wing forward through the air so that it can produce the lift needed to fly. Once you're off the ground, though, gravity may be substituted to keep the airplane moving forward if the airplane loses engine power. The airplane will come down, yes, but it will do so in a shallow controlled glide in just the same way as it would if the engine was still running but at idle power. Most jets descend with their engines at idle power. The jet is gliding under the influence of gravity. With the help of gravity the momentum of the airplane carries it forward which keeps the wings producing lift. In this way, gravity is acting as a friend. The only possible way for an airplane to drop vertically like a rock is if the wings fall off. In fact, many airplanes are incapable of descending downward at ninety degrees toward the earth with the wings still attached. An airplane is capable of maintaining that angle only for a short time before its airspeed increases to such an extent that the excess lift being produced by the wings either forces the nose back up and/or rips the wings off. Airplanes are designed to fly so well that you can't make one (excluding military jets and aerobatic airplanes) come down steeply without destroying it before impact, engines running or not. When an airplane's engines fail it simply reverts to being a glider.

"Sure, but doesn't one of those big, heavy jets still come down fast because they're so heavy?" No. In fact, the heavier, the better. The heavier the airplane, the greater its momentum and the better the glide performance. Competition glider pilots know this. These pilots load water ballast onto their gliders before takeoff because it allows them to glide farther due to the increased momentum the weight provides. Now, here's something that will blow your mind. The average airline jet can out-glide a hang-glider. In fact, these jets enjoy similar glide performance as some gliders and even birds. This is because jets are so heavy (added momentum) and so slippery (pilot talk meaning aerodynamically "clean" or efficient). A typical wide body airline jet can glide somewhere in the neighborhood of one hundred miles across the surface from a typical cruising altitude. That means if a jet's engines all fail at once (which is incredibly remote) during cruise the airplane can glide one hundred miles before contacting the earth, sometimes farther depending on wind. That leaves lots of room for options. The airplane might be within reach of a suitable runway for a power-off (known as a dead-stick) landing. One hundred miles of glide range is a mere fantasy to a light airplane pilot. Most light airplane pilots use a rule-of-thumb for calculating glide range during an emergency: one mile across the ground for every thousand feet of altitude above the surface. Light airplanes often cruise at altitudes only four or five thousand feet above the surface. That means we typically only count on four or five miles of glide range following an engine failure. Most light airplanes will glide a bit farther than this, but good pilots use this conservative calculation to prevent turning in an unsafe direction to attempt to make a landing site which may end up being out of reach. Light airplanes tend to be inefficient gliders because they're lightweight (less momentum) and dirty (pilot talk meaning aerodynamically inefficient).

Passenger jets are far superior gliders. However, passenger jets in Hollywood movies are notoriously bad gliders. The physics of the cinematic world differ greatly from those of the real world. They're far more unforgiving, havoc-creating, and revenue-generating. Luckily, the real world of flying isn't as exciting. So before you get nervous about an airplane's engines failing, just think about a Boeing 747 gliding from Philadelphia all the way to Washington D.C. with all four engines shut down. I've never seen a rock do that.

AF 447

An A330 has been lost with 228 souls on board. The airplane was over the Atlantic Ocean when it encountered convective activity. The cause of the crash is unknown at this time.

My heart is with those lost and their families. What a tragedy.

Consequences

If you've read my first series of posts and are now reading this, it means you believe in responsible and disciplined behavior in the cockpit. I suspect there are a great many pilots who've read a few of my posts and opted not to return to read another. Perhaps I have offended some pilots with my blunt observations and harsh conclusions. While I do not intend for my writing to be reacted to in this way, I am not bothered that some readers turn away with disagreement or assaulted egos. I believe in honest reflection and self-assessment, directed both toward myself and other pilots. It is my belief that a good pilot is an honest pilot, and while readers might disagree with some of my comments the pure ones will not resent them because they come only from the bottom of my safety-conscious heart. Those readers who do become offended by my posts should go elsewhere because I suspect most of them aren't the type of pilot I want to interact with anyway. But what gives me the right to make other pilots' business my business? Well, quite a few things.

Some readers may've noticed I've repeatedly mentioned "the innocent folks on the ground" in my first handful of posts. This is a theme you'll continue to see in future posts because it is always at the forefront of my mind. And if you fly airplanes it should always be at the forefront of your mind too. I'm a firm believer in the phrase, "To each his own." It excites me that we live in an individualistic society where each person is free to express himself in any way he chooses, so long as his expression does not intrude on another's expression. That is a tremendously positive way of community living and allows each of us to pursue passions or hobbies as we wish, as long our passions or hobbies don't negatively impact another individual's activities. If you want to dress up, turn the music up and party all night, power to you -- just as long as you're at a nightclub or not disturbing the neighbors who are in the middle of a meditation session. When we climb into an airplane then remove that airplane from the earth's surface we are free to enjoy ourselves in any way that we want, as long as we comply with all regulations and operate the airplane in a safe and efficient manner. But what happens when a pilot makes a boo-boo? Not only does that pilot put himself at risk (which is his prerogative), he puts innocent people on the ground at risk (as well as other pilots), too. This changes everything and makes flying a unique hobby. Now the pilot's self-expression has the potential to involuntarily become another person's uninvited ultimate disturbance.

When airplanes are in flight they always have the potential to come down suddenly and violently, and what happens to be below an airplane when and if that should happen could quite possibly be a home, an office building, a busy thoroughfare, or a little league softball game. It is for this reason that people who engage in this activity must be held to extremely high standards and maintain a safety-conscious mindset while conducting and enjoying their hobby. Flying demands a high degree of responsibility and maturity. Those who do not possess these traits should absolutely not be allowed to command an aircraft (at least without an instructor on board) because they do not have the right to put you, me, your children, the mayor, and anyone else on the ground at risk in their process of self-expression. They'd be better suited to swimming the English Channel or climbing Mount Everest. These activities don't involve putting others at risk. I don't believe people should have to be concerned with an aircraft crashing through the roof of their home during their Thanksgiving dinner. Certainly they didn't ask for that and they don't deserve it. Flying is high stakes, period. It takes a professional and evolved mentality to participate in it properly, and those who aren't capable of that mentality have no business behind the controls of an airplane. I wish them a life full of happiness in other hobbies which involve no collateral risk. There are other consequences for irresponsible flying too.

When a bonehead violates the Washington D.C. Special Flight Rules Area (SFRA) he makes a mess not only for himself but for all general aviation pilots. This mess comes in the form of new rulemaking and increased regulation. It slowly chips away at our collective freedom as pilots and reduces our ability to express ourselves through flying in an unrestricted way. Aircraft accidents work in just the same way. Accidents caused by irresponsible pilots often spur governmental concern (as they should) and new regulations are born. Sometimes the new rules are quite restrictive and unnecessarily apply to responsible pilots because it is currently impossible for the government to discern between a smart pilot and an inept pilot in terms of pilot certification and privileges. When a rule gets made for the silly pilots it's imposed on the whole lot of us, smart pilots and all. That's not fair to the responsible pilots because they didn't ask for the new restrictions nor do they need them. But our current system is limited to the "one for all" approach, so each one of us needs to do our part to fly safely and properly so as to preserve the wonderfully free flying system we enjoy today. Those who aren't capable or willing to do this need to change hobbies.

Flying is a challenging and uniquely high stakes hobby. Those who engage in flying must understand the consequences of mistreating it. If you don't want the pressure of those consequences constantly lurking in the background of every flight, stay away from the cockpit. Find something else that you enjoy pouring your heart into that doesn't involve the potential for loss of innocent life. And to my readers who are still with me after reading this, I give you my thanks. I'm glad to have you.

CTAF Abuse

The traffic pattern was busy as I maneuvered for a downwind entry. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon with light winds and excellent visibility. There were lots of weekend flyers buzzing around Miami County Airport (K81), a small but accommodating uncontrolled airport in northeast Kansas. The Common Traffic Advisory Frequency (CTAF) was congested. Transmissions were being blocked and garbles and squeals were coming through my headset frequently as I searched for traffic outside. As with most CTAF or unicom frequencies, Miami County shares their advisory frequency with several other nearby uncontrolled airports. It was difficult to get a word in to broadcast my position and intentions as I turned base then final. Interjected between the routine traffic calls on the frequency was a conversation between two gentlemen discussing their plans for the weekend. Anytime these individuals heard free air time they'd key up and resume their conversation, and evidently they had a lot to say. After a couple minutes of being briefed on Bob's plans for Sunday I butted in and requested they discontinue their conversation as aircraft were already struggling for air time.

The behavior of these gentlemen was rude, inconsiderate, irresponsible, and improper. I was amazed by their complete disregard for the needs of other pilots on the frequency who were attempting to use the CTAF properly to reduce the chance of a mid-air collision or runway incursion. The CTAF is not a chat line. It is a frequency to be used for official business only to allow pilots operating in the vicinity of one another to communicate and keep themselves separated. It is never okay to use a CTAF for any other purpose. Pilots who engage in personal conversation over a CTAF are displaying a fundamental inability to separate business from personal recreation in their mind, even when the frequency is dead because aircraft operating in the vicinity of an airport should be utilizing sterile cockpit procedures and any chit-chat must be suspended until the aircraft is parked and shutdown. Save the banter for the ground. It is irresponsible and foolish to steal valuable air time away from safety-conscious pilots who are trying to maintain safety during some of the riskiest phases of flight (takeoff and landing).

The next time you're flying in the vicinity of an uncontrolled airport and utilizing a CTAF be sure to ask those chatty knuckleheads to zip it (perhaps in nicer words) so that you can conduct business. Other pilots listening will appreciate your effort to sterilize the frequency. If they won't quiet down, do your best to obtain their N-number and report them to the FAA after you land. I perceive this as an urgent matter. This type of unprofessionalism is completely unacceptable, and CTAFs lack the oversight that air traffic control frequencies have so it's up to us, the users of the system, to maintain its integrity. Daytime visual meteorological conditions (VMC) in the vicinity of an airport has long been the area where most mid-air collisions occur. The proper use of a CTAF in the areas where these accidents are concentrated greatly reduces the risk of bumping into another aircraft, but if the frequency is tied up with useless chatter about Ted's new Harley the system fails. Those of us with a head on top of our shoulders are then subjected to increased risk, and that's not acceptable.

I once watched an Internet video of a Bonanza landing at Telluride Airport (TEX) in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. Telluride is a busy airport with a fair mix of transient GA traffic and regional airline traffic. It has only one runway which can typically only be used one-way, land east, takeoff west due to high terrain immediately east of the field. The pattern typically has a concentration of traffic south through west of the runway which contributes to the congestion when the airport gets busy. I watched as the Bonanza entered the pattern and maneuvered for landing while communicating with other aircraft in the area including a jet the Bonanza was to follow. Suddenly someone from the FBO interrupted the communications and began interrogating the Bonanza pilot about how long he would be on the ramp, how much fuel he needed, and other non-essential information. Unfortunately, the Bonanza pilot answered the questions instead of politely informing the FBO person that he'd discuss that after he got on the ground. The FBO person then further tied up the frequency by asking other aircraft in the pattern the same line of questions. The frequency became over-congested and the efficiency of the CTAF system was significantly compromised. I was surprised and disappointed that not a single pilot on the frequency asked this non-pilot salesman to pipe down and save his business for the ramp. His questions had nothing to do with safety of flight or collision avoidance. They were non-essential conversation about a business-related subject which had no business interrupting aircraft-to-aircraft collision avoidance transmissions. The CTAF is not intended to be used this way, and requesting a pilot to divert his attention away from maneuvering in complex terrain during a high risk and high workload phase of flight in order to discuss how long he'll be on the ramp (if he makes it there) is completely irresponsible and inappropriate.

As pilots our duty is to maintain safety of flight at all times. This includes using CTAFs properly and requesting those who are not using them properly to discontinue their actions. Is this strict? Yes, it certainly is. Flying demands strict discipline. If that's not up your alley, change your hobby. Conducting yourself appropriately on a CTAF is just one way of demonstrating your professionalism and discipline as well as your regard for other pilots and the innocent folks below.