Cockpit Intelligence

Graveyard Spiral

2010-05-17T17:24:00.004-05:00

The graveyard spiral, or "spiral dive," has claimed the lives of many pilots. In my years as a flight instructor, I've come to find that graveyard spirals are not well understood by many pilots. That's part of the reason graveyard spirals continue to kill people. I believe education is the answer to managing risks in flying, so I'd like to provide some information about spiral dives and how to respond to them and, more importantly, how to prevent them in the first place.

First of all, what is a graveyard spiral? Graveyard spirals usually occur in instrument conditions when the pilot becomes spatially disoriented. The pilot's spatial disorientation could be the result of turbulence, instrument failure(s), lack of instrument training, or simply cockpit distraction. Whatever the case, the pilot loses control of bank attitude and one wing begins to drop. As the bank steepens, the nose falls through the horizon and the aircraft begins descending. The airspeed increases and the bank angle and rate of descent continue to increase. The pilot senses a descent and pulls back on the yoke or stick in an attempt to arrest the descent, but this only steepens the spiral. The load factor increases dramatically and the descent rate becomes incredibly steep. Often in fully developed graveyard spirals the aircraft suffers an in-flight breakup before it reaches the ground. Other times the aircraft strikes the ground in a nose-low attitude at extremely high speed. Accident sites of graveyard spirals are usually breathtaking... Thousands of aircraft fragments (and other things) scattered around as though a bomb went off.

Recovery from a fully developed spiral dive is sometimes impossible. Once the airspeed exceeds a certain value, structural failure will occur during any type of recovery attempt. For this reason it's very important that we never allow a spiral dive to fully develop. The answer to preventing the formation of a spiral dive is to avoid situations where we might become spatially disoriented. Never fly in instrument conditions unless you're instrument proficient, not just instrument current. Minimize cockpit distractions and always remember keeping the airplane under control is your top priority. Never conduct other cockpit tasks during turns because there is a higher risk of losing control of bank during a turn. Use an autopilot, and always maintain a proactive instrument cross-check to detect instrument failures. Luckily, instrument failures are much lesson common now with glass panel systems and laser gyros. We don't have to rely on undependable vacuum pumps anymore for attitude information.

If a spiral dive starts, rely on your unusual attitude recovery training. Reduce power to idle, level the wings FIRST (that's very important because leveling the wings reduces load factor exponentially), and slowly recover from the resulting dive. The most important component of attitude during flight is bank. If you control bank, there's very little pitch can do to hurt you. If the wings are level, positively stable airplanes will fix pitch on their own and the nose will eventually return to a safe attitude after oscillation cycles. Some new airplanes are being built with a "wing leveler" feature for this reason. If the pilot feels like he's losing control of the airplane, he hits a button and the autopilot levels the wings. If the wings are level, a spiral dive can't develop. Remember, spiral dives are the result of runaway bank. Maintain control of bank, and you won't find yourself in one of these terrible situations.

AAL 2

2010-05-07T01:56:00.002-05:00

Have you heard about this? On May 4, American Airlines Flight 2, a Boeing 767-200, declared an emergency on approach to JFK after ATC denied their request for landing Runway 31R. Here's part of the ATC audio.

JFK's Runway 31L was closed for repairs, so I believe Runway 31R was being used for departures and Runway 22L (and Right?) was being used for arrivals. When American 2 Heavy checks on with Tower, the controller issues a landing clearance and wind check of 320 at 23, gusting 35. That's a heck of a lot of crosswind (and even some tailwind component!). The crew declares an emergency, makes a turn, and lands Runway 31R. This was an unusual event, and it's difficult to determine whether the crew acted appropriately without knowing the full details of what happened.

I'd like to hear the ATC audio from New York Approach between the controller and this flight crew. The conflict started there, and I'll bet the crew requested landing 31R multiple times and the controller didn't oblige. New York Approach controllers can be stubborn. After hearing the wind check from Tower, the crew, fed up by the Approach controller's lack of assistance, decided their only option was to use their emergency authority and land their aircraft where they deemed fit. I'm assuming there was a minimum fuel situation, and if there was, I wonder if it was communicated to ATC. If there wasn't a minimum fuel situation, why didn't the crew divert to another airport with a suitable runway for landing? Not enough fuel, probably.

After the crew declares an emergency, the Tower issues them a go-around vector which they do not comply with. This seems out of line unless the fuel state was dire. Listening to the Tower audio, it sounds like the controller understood the flight's situation and was attempting to initiate vectors for an approach to 31R. I think the crew was fed with ATC at that point and their brains had switched into "I'm not listening to anything you have to say anymore" mode. That's understandable, and I don't necessarily disagree with the crew's decision to override the controller's instructions but I'm not sure that was totally necessary when the controller was already trying to send them to 31R. Again, maybe fuel state was a factor. Maybe the crew felt they couldn't take more vectoring.

So, was this a justified "emergency?" That depends on the fuel remaining. If the flight was at minimum fuel, yes, this was an emergency. They needed to land now at this airport, and the only way they could do that safely was to land on a runway better aligned with the wind than the runway ATC allegedly insisted on giving them. If the flight had fuel to divert, no, this was not an emergency. The FAA will decide.

Crosswind Limitations

2010-04-22T21:05:00.003-05:00

Ideally, wind would always be perfectly aligned with runways. When runways are constructed, a consideration of the average wind direction for the area dictates the runway orientation. Los Angeles International, for instance, has east/west runways because of its proximity to the ocean and prevailing east/west winds. Dallas Fort Worth International, on the other hand, has mostly north/south runways because the wind in the area usually blows north/south. The problem is, fronts and other meteorological factors disrupt wind flow sometimes, and uncharacteristic crosswinds make pilots tighten their grip on the controls a bit.

The FAA requires airplanes to be satisfactorily controllable with no exceptional degree of pilot skill or alertness in 90° crosswinds up to a velocity equal to 0.2 Vso. For example, Vso, or the stalling speed in the landing configuration, for the Piper Archer I fly is 47 knots. That means the airplane can be landed by the average Joe pilot who isn't particularly skilled or alert in a direct 9.4 knot crosswind. A non-average Joe test pilot, on the other hand, who is highly skilled and alert, picks a windy day and lands the airplane with as much crosswind as he can handle and that number becomes the maximum demonstrated crosswind component for the airplane. Any airplane certificated after May 3, 1962 must have this number placarded in the cockpit where the pilot can see and be reminded that a test pilot could handle that amount of crosswind, but he probably can't. The maximum demonstrated crosswind component is NOT a limitation, and it can be exceeded. You can legally land with as much crosswind as you want. But if a test pilot could only handle say, seventeen knots, it's reasonable to consider that a limitation, or at least a very strong recommendation not to take on more than that (or even close to it).

When the wind is blowing across the runway and not along it and you're not certain you can land safely in the existing conditions, divert to an airport with a crosswind runway better aligned with the wind. Better yet, avoid that situation in the first place by giving a thorough check of the weather and forecasts before your flight. Wind isn't generally all that difficult to forecast, so if it looks like there's a possibility of encountering too much crosswind, delay the flight until the wind dies down or come back another day.

Looking for Students

2010-04-08T02:38:00.002-05:00

Hello, readers. I'd like to take a moment to extend an offer to anyone seeking flight instruction to contact me. I'm taking on new students and would be glad to hear from you. I offer a full range of instructional services from Private through Airline Transport Pilot, including instrument, flight reviews and instrument proficiency checks. Please email me at ee.stuart@gmail.com to discuss your training needs or schedule a lesson. I look forward to hearing from you! --Gene

Salute to Captain Burkill

2010-04-04T00:59:00.002-05:00

"It changed my life." That's what Captain Peter Burkill of British Airways Flight 38 said about the crash of his Boeing 777 in London on January 17, 2008. At four hundred feet on final approach into London Heathrow both of the 777's engines failed without warning or explanation. Listen to Captain Burkill's recount of the crash here. Due to Captain Burkill's proper management of the emergency, there were no fatalities.

Captain Burkill and his family suffered through a difficult year following the accident. Nasty rumors began to spread about Burkill's ineptitude as a captain, and how he "froze" on the flightdeck during the emergency. In fact, British Airways cabin crew trainers were propagating the insulting gossip and talking badly about Captain Burkill during recurrent training sessions. Not long after the accident, Burkill was shocked while cruising over the Atlantic when a couple of his flight attendants informed him of what was being said about him during their annual safety equipment training session. Negative media perceptions were formed of the captain, too.

What a shame. Captain Burkill did everything right, in my opinion. The entire emergency lasted less than one minute before impact. During that short time Burkill remained calm and did everything within his power to to manage the situation. He quickly troubleshot and tried to identify what may've caused a sudden loss of thrust on both engines simultaneously. When it was apparent power could not be restored and there was not enough time to continue further with that effort, Burkill made a smart split-second decision to shed drag by reducing flaps by five degrees. This action alone may have been the difference between life and death for passengers and people on the ground. Burkill was aware that reducing the flaps by five degrees would increase the glide range while not dangerously increasing stall speed. And within seconds before impact he made a mayday call to the tower so that firefighting and rescue equipment could be dispatched immediately.

Burkill may have been criticized for not taking aircraft control from his first officer, who was the pilot flying for the landing. Actually, I think that was one of the best decisions he made that day. Burkill knew his first officer was highly experienced in the 777, almost as experienced as he was. And Burkill knew that time was so limited before impact that he needed to have full, undistracted access to his captain's knowledge and wisdom. I think his decision to let his very capable first officer continue flying was a fine display of crew resource management (CRM). Had he taken the controls so low with so little time, Burkill may not have thought to partially raise the flaps and the accident could've ended in tragedy.

In my opinion, Captain Burkill's handling of that unprecedented and very challenging emergency was a fine display of airmanship. The man deserves respect and recognition for a job well done. Many people could've died that day, but everyone survived. It disappoints me how disrespectfully Captain Burkill was treated after the accident. I personally would like to extend to him my respect and congratulations for his work that day. Well done, Captain Burkill.

Directing Attention

2010-03-26T00:01:00.000-05:00

I keyed the mic, "Direct DUSTT, hold as published, maintain 3,000, EFC 0315, Nine Four Charlie." The world outside was dark and dimensionless. Pitch black, actually. It was a low IFR night and I was single pilot. The engine noise had just transformed from a relaxed purr to a roar as I executed a missed approach. During instrument training, pilots learn to expect a sensation of tumbling backward during a throttle up in IMC. I felt that sensation that night and responded as I was trained -- disregard the sensation and hunker down on the instruments. Even our own bodies lie to us sometimes. It's important not to allow that unusual sensation to cause hesitation during application of climb power. I was climbing, turning toward the missed approach fix, configuring things for the hold, cleaning up the airplane (retracting flaps and completing the after takeoff checklist), and I had no autopilot. I was task saturated. Suddenly, I stopped.

I've trained myself to do this whenever I feel the current workload is becoming overwhelming. I stop what I'm doing, put my non-flying hand on my leg, and just fly. I transition back to the flight instruments and reallocate my attention to attitude-instrument flying. "Am I sending the airplane to where it needs to go? To a safe place?" Anything else can wait. The most important thing is to keep the airplane in a safe attitude and positively under control. I have programmed a mental alarm of sorts that monitors how much of my attention is on flying the airplane. When that figure dips below the 75% range, the alarm trips, and I respond by suspending all tasks that don't directly involve flying the airplane. That night, I climbed to the assigned altitude, established on-course to the missed approach fix, and resumed other cockpit tasks only after I was straight-and-level. If the airplane departs from controlled flight, all those other tasks don't matter anyway.

During single pilot IFR operations, this type of thought discipline is especially important. Too many airplanes are lost to loss of control accidents in instrument conditions. Remember, if you don't fly the airplane, no one is. During high workload or task saturated situations, remember that the only thing that matters is to first stash the airplane in a safe place in the sky, nicely under control. There are some situations in instrument flying where there is simply too much for a single pilot to think about all at once. That's where workload management tactics, or task prioritization, comes in. We all know how many accident reports cite a loss of situational awareness as a cause or contributing factor. The most important aspect of your situation is always the attitude of the airplane and its position in space, particularly in relationship to terrain and obstructions. Although there are many other important situational elements to maintain awareness of, they are all secondary to this. The airplane must remain under control for any of those other tasks to even stay possible. Pilots have been lost when their attention was diverted from basic airplane control because they were fixated on another task or problem.

I recently completed an instrument currency session in a flight training device. The flight was approach intensive, as most instrument currency flights are. There were lots of rapid re-configurations, frequency changes, OBS resets, GPS tasks, and checklist duties. I was a busy pilot. I noticed my mental "stop and redirect" procedure was being used frequently due to the high workload. I'd be programming the GPS for the next approach and would suddenly and very deliberately move my hand away from the dial mid-rotation and put it on my leg. It almost always feels unnatural to do this. Often the GPS would be left with a flashing highlight on a selection screen. No matter, it can wait. It won't go anywhere. I needed to focus on flying and keeping the airplane heading in a safe direction.

This is my own personal workload management tactic that I've found to be very useful. It's effective at breaking a fixated thought pattern. If I feel that the GPS or finding a number on a chart is consuming too much of my precious attention--of which there is only so much of to go around--or that I'm becoming fixated, I break that thought pattern by forcing my hand to leg. It's a way of not letting my mind address anything at that moment other than flying the airplane. This procedure reminds me of Cesar Millan's, The Dog Whisperer, technique of touching a dog in a specific place on the body and making a "Sh!" sound when the dog is acting out. He's breaking the fixated thought process and redirecting the brain's attention.

I had a sharp flight student who I would occasionally challenge with task saturation. I wanted to see how he'd respond when the environment was asking too much of him all at once. I'd be barking commands at him and playing ATC as he was running checklists and flying. When the workload became too great, he'd begin to shed lower priority tasks and focus on flying. I was so proud when he'd ignore me and hunker down on the instruments. After he was sure he had the airplane under control, he'd begin responding to me. He reacted perfectly.

Pilot-in-command authority is more than just a term in the regulations. It's a mindset. It's an attitude. We have to be able to take charge of the situation, to be the "alpha dog" up there. When we are bombarded by too much input, we have to take charge by confidently selecting which tasks to focus on and which to address at a later time, and we must do this authoritatively. When we feel our minds losing situational awareness, we must recognize this and react by immediately eliminating distractions to flying the airplane. Get back to the rest when it's safe to do so.

We talk about resource management in flying. To me, resource management extends to the most valuable resource on the airplane, the pilot's brain. That brain has limited capacity. Too many demands can start to pull attention away from flying the airplane, and most of the brain's resources should be continuously attached to that effort. If attention starts peeling away from aircraft control, it should activate a mental alarm and that attention should be restored and re-attached to flying immediately. Be aware of where your attention is directed. Keep enough attention in the right places, that's what situational awareness is all about. If things start slipping, stop and just fly.

Brief Yourself

2010-03-13T01:58:00.002-06:00

You might be thinking, "He's talking about briefings again?" Yes, I am. Briefings in GA are widely underused and under-rated! I've previously written about approach briefings, which are arguably the most important of all briefings. But, there are others that deserve mention, too. Several different briefings are used routinely in airline operations, and we need to beef up our "briefings culture," for lack of a better term, in GA. Today, let's discuss departure briefings.

Remember, it's important to conduct briefings even in single-crew (single pilot) operations. In multi-crew environments, briefings benefit the briefer just as much as the brief-ee. It's been proven that information that is verbalized tends to stick better in our brains, which is why it's critical to brief aloud, even if you're the only one listening. In a moment, I'll give an example of a self-briefing I conducted for a departure out of Arcata, California on a low IFR morning. First, let's go over some departure briefing basics.

A departure briefing should be performed before every departure, no matter how simple or routine it may seem. VFR, IFR, good weather, bad weather, familiar/unfamiliar airport, no matter the case, conduct a briefing. Pilots screw up even simple departures sometimes, and they pay the ultimate price. The more organized your mind is, the more sharp your flying becomes. A departure briefing should be performed just prior to engine start and should cover these items:

Current position on airport and anticipated taxi route

Determine your current position using the airport diagram and brief the taxi route you anticipate (consider highlighting during your preflight planning). Discuss any taxiway closures.

Departure runway information

Determine which runway will be used for takeoff, available runway distance for takeoff, runway lighting, etc.

Runway conditions

Is the runway dry, wet, icy, contaminated? Abnormal runway conditions may increase takeoff roll distance.

Takeoff procedure and special considerations

Discuss what type of takeoff is required: normal, short/soft-field, crosswind. Discuss aircraft configuration requirements (flap settings, etc.).

DP walkthrough/departure transition and automation mode (if applicable)

If a departure procedure will be flown, brief it the same way you would an instrument approach procedure. If a DP will not be flown, discuss the plan for a custom departure transition. That could be as simple as "left turn on course, up to 5,000." Whatever your plan is for transitioning from the runway into the enroute structure, brief it. If autopilot will be used, discuss when and what modes.

Terrain/obstructions

Any terrain or obstructions of interest should be noted. Keep it simple, otherwise you'll forget anyway. Something like "high terrain to the east" works. The idea is to know which way NOT to turn in the event of an engine failure or other emergency.

Emergency considerations

Discuss the plan for an emergency return to the airport if one becomes necessary. I don't recommend departing from an airport where the weather is too low to permit an emergency return, but if there's a good alternate nearby, discuss the route there and the approach to be used.

Here's an example of a departure briefing I conducted for a flight in a Piper Archer out of Arcata Airport in California:

"We're currently at the GA ramp here. We'll plan to join Alpha via Delta from the ramp and taxi southbound on Alpha to Runway 32. Looks like there is a run-up pad at the approach end of Runway 32, so we'll conduct a run-up there. We'll use Runway 32 for takeoff. We've got six thousand feet of takeoff distance available. We do have edge and centerline lighting for this runway. The runway is wet but we have plenty of available distance for the roll. We'll do a normal takeoff, little bit of a left-to-right crosswind. We're cleared for the HOCUT THREE departure, Crescent City transition. I have the HOCUT THREE departure, Arcata, California, Alpha Charlie Victor. This chart is current eleven March 2008 to eight April 2008. For departure Runway 32, it'll be a climbing left turn to join the 250 outbound Arcata to position HOCUT, then a right turn to join Victor 27 northbound to TRIAL, then Crescent City. We'll climb unrestricted to 9,000. I'll hand fly until established outbound on the 250, then engage NAV GPS roll steering and Vertical speed modes. We'll use GPS as primary for navigation with VHF data as backup. I have Arcata set and positively identified on NAV2 with 250 set on the OBS with Crescent City in the standby. Once we turn northbound to join Victor 27, it will be the Crescent City 161 and 341 on the OBS. We'll be out over the ocean almost immediately with high terrain to the east. If we have to return we'll proceed directly to KNEES for the ILS 32 and continue climb to 5,900. Departure briefing complete."

I've always enjoyed briefings and found them to be very helpful. They help instill a clear mental picture of the game plan and help things go smoothly as planned. There's a lot to keep straight up there, so verbalizing a clear and concise plan will help keep you on the straight and narrow. Blog post complete!

Sterile Cockpit Enforcement

2010-03-02T12:38:00.003-06:00

After the recent string of air carrier accidents and incidents involving violations of sterile cockpit rules, the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) is recommending the FAA use cockpit voice recorders (CVRs) to check up on pilots on a regular basis. Before, CVRs were only used in accident or incident investigations. Now, though, the FAA will use these devices to review routine flights to ensure pilots are maintaining a sterile cockpit. The Air Line Pilots Association (ALPA) and many line pilots are upset about this, claiming the new use of CVRs is an "invasion of privacy." One ALPA spokesperson also commented that he believes this will cause a distraction in the cockpit because pilots will be afraid to speak up about safety issues. Those are ridiculous arguments.

Get over it, you big babies! You shouldn't be participating in non-pertinent discussion during sterile periods anyway. If you just follow the rules, you won't have a problem. It's simple. ALPA's outcry reminds me of habitual drunk drivers protesting field sobriety checkpoints. If you're doing something wrong, you'll be upset when someone calls you on it. If you're doing what you're supposed to be doing, you won't notice any difference! The only pilots that have a problem with this idea are the violators.

Maintaining a sterile cockpit is crucial to flight safety. And because many pilots can't get that through their heads, the FAA is stepping in. God bless them. Pilots have repeatedly demonstrated that they're incapable of following sterile cockpit rules consistently, and that's why Big Brother is stepping up oversight. That's fair, and it makes perfect sense. For airline pilots, all you need to do is follow the rules. That's what you should've been doing in the first place because your passengers place trust in you to be people of integrity. If you don't agree with sterile cockpit rules, get over it. A rule is a rule, and all rules can be traced back to safety, so following them is not a matter of debate.

ALPA's non-sensical and downright silly arguments will likely continue, like a rowdy child being sent to time-out. It's embarrassing, really. I read an airline pilot's blog, and he wrote of a recent flight where he texted his dispatcher via ACARS to inquire about the score of a football game. He was angered when his dispatcher replied that management had decided sports scores are a distraction to flight operations. He commented that his anger became a distraction during the descent and approach and had the audacity to blame this on the company. The problem wasn't with the company, it was with his childish attitude and tantrum. Check the score after you land, act like an adult, and focus on flying.

The FAA monitoring CVRs on a routine basis is anything but an invasion of privacy. Do airline pilots think the flight deck of an airliner is their own personal living room? Pilots aren't entitled to privacy on the flight deck. It's the company's jet being used to haul hundreds of passengers in a complex and very public environment. Who says pilots have a right to privacy in that domain? And what would they even need privacy for? They shouldn't be discussing non-pertinent information anyway. I can't think of any reason that a pilot wouldn't want the FAA to hear him saying things like "Flaps 15," or running a checklist. So, what's the problem? Big Brother still wants to hear you saying those things. Just leave out the conversation about dinner plans. That's reasonable, right? Considering how many lives are at stake?

Ideally, pilots wouldn't require oversight by the FAA because they'd always follow the rules, but they don't. So, the FAA has to implement less-than-ideal solutions (like this one) to get things back on track, or at least closer to the track. It's a good, fair solution to a pilot-created problem. Stop whining, follow the rules, and the FAA will leave us all alone.

Call to Arms

2010-02-18T12:56:00.002-06:00

Two are injured, one is missing after a Piper Cherokee was flown at high speed into an office building in Austin, Texas this morning. The individual who flew the airplane into the building, which contained an IRS office, is not believed to have been a certificated pilot. News reports indicate the man set fire to his house then stole the Cherokee from Georgetown Airport, north of Austin. The crash is believed to have been intentional.

We're only a few hours into this thing, and the media is already taking shots at light aircraft security. Frankly, they're right. Obviously, whatever security system was in place at the Georgetown Airport completely failed this morning. This aircraft theft happened in broad daylight at a decently busy airport. I'd bet the perpetrator had little to no difficulty stealing the Cherokee. My guess is that he walked onto the ramp unquestioned, untied the airplane, opened the unlocked door, fired up and took off. Security? What security? There's nothing secure about that at all.

Any security system that relies solely, or even mostly, on trust and faith alone is not truly a security system at all. Most general aviation airports are participants of the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association's (AOPA) Airport Watch program which was created after 9/11. The program, while well-intended, does little to increase GA security because it relies primarily on pilots and airport staff to watch for and report suspicious activity. Many aircraft owners and FBOs who rent aircraft leave their aircraft unlocked and unsecured on the ramp, often unattended for long periods of time. And with push-button start systems now much more prevalent in piston airplanes, thieves don't even need a key to start the engine. At my home base, our FBO was good about keeping rental airplanes locked and secured with a prop lock for a short time after 9/11, but we soon reverted to old familiar (and less secure) ways.

The media has attacked GA security before, and the government has threatened to implement increased security requirements for light airplanes. AOPA's rebuttal has been to explain that light aircraft, even when fully loaded, simply can't do that much damage to people or objects on the ground. I think that argument is no longer valid after today's attack on the office building in Austin. The Cherokee involved was not even fully loaded, and it caused extensive structural damage, a couple of injuries to occupants of the building, and possibly even a fatality. That's certainly not 9/11-scale devastation, but it's also not a pinprick. The bottom line is, even a lightly loaded Piper Cherokee can cause sufficiently significant damage to warrant increased security at GA airports. I hate that it's true because that translates to more inconvenience to pilots, but I hate it even more when innocent people on the ground die as a result of aircraft crashes.

I could go on and complain about the nut job who did this horrible deed this morning, and I certainly have some nasty things to say about him. But, I don't think that would be productive for me or my readers. We all know there plenty of nut jobs out there in the world, and sometimes they do stupid things that impact good people. That's just a fact of life, so instead of getting mad, let's make this a call to arms. Let's make our airplanes inaccessible to the nut jobs. Let's take security matters into our own hands before the FAA and TSA forces it on us through increased regulation. We need to start taking aircraft security seriously because innocent people's lives are at stake.

Keep your airplane locked. Further secure it with a propeller lock. Don't leave keys in your airplane! These are a few extremely basic things we can do routinely to enhance GA security. Abiding by these guidelines is hardly an inconvenience.

Like all pilots, I'm concerned about new security regulations being born in the aftermath of today's crash. It's always a pain when we are subject to increased scrutiny by the government because some clown did a bad deed. But, I also believe firmly in putting the safety of innocent people on the ground before anything else, and because our current security system (or lack thereof) made possible today's incident, maybe it's only fair we admit some improvement is necessary in our security department. If it will prevent something like this from happening again, I'm willing to work a little bit harder to insure the safety of innocent bystanders. I hope you are, too.

CRJ Runway Excursion

2010-02-16T13:30:00.003-06:00

It's interesting that I just wrote a post about pilot discipline. Maybe you've heard about the US Airways Express CRJ-200 that suffered a runway excursion following a rejected takeoff at Yeager Airport in Charleston, WV. Preliminary investigation data indicates the accident was likely caused by, you guessed it, crew error and lack of discipline.

Luckily, there were no injuries. The CRJ overran runway 23 at Charleston and was effectively arrested by the EMAS pad at the departure end of the runway. EMAS (Engineered Material Arresting System) pads are constructed of crushable concrete blocks that are designed to collapse under the weight of an aircraft and absorb kinetic energy in the event of a runway overrun. Chalk up another victory here for EMAS because it performed its function perfectly.

I'll be interested to read the cockpit voice recorder (CVR) transcript from the accident, but it sounds like the crew violated sterile cockpit rules (big surprise, right?) during taxi, became distracted by non-pertinent conversation, and improperly configured flaps for takeoff. I'm not sure if they didn't extend flaps at all, but I'd bet that was the case. The crew began the takeoff roll and rejected the takeoff after a takeoff configuration warning activated, then overran the runway into the EMAS. I read one news report that said the crew began to rotate the airplane before the reject was initiated, but that sounds fishy to me. Either way, it seems the aircraft had entered the high speed regime of the takeoff, and I'm wondering how the takeoff progressed to such an advanced stage before the crew abandoned it. I also read a news report that suggested the crew attempted to extend flaps during the takeoff roll, but news reports are quite often flagrantly incorrect. If that did happen, though, it definitely suggests that these pilots should never fly passengers again.

As is typical, this accident likely resulted from a chain of mistakes that led to an unsuccessful outcome. The crew violated sterile cockpit procedures during taxi, failed to configure the aircraft for takeoff, then likely mis-handled the attempted takeoff and subsequent reject. Professionalism at its finest! Not. Thank God there were no injuries, but this accident certainly doesn't contribute much to the case for regional airline safety or professionalism.

Sterile cockpit procedures are used to prevent accidents just like this one. Violate these procedures, and you see what can happen. For pilots of all aircraft, cease chatter, focus on the task at hand, and save the conversation for dinner (or at least cruise!).

The Right Stuff

2010-02-11T16:33:00.003-06:00

"What makes a good aviator?" This is a question we've all heard and pondered. Each of us has our own idea about what makes a good pilot. The term "airmanship" has taken on lots of different meanings. Pilots can't seem to agree on a common definition, and many have differing ideas about the profile of a superior pilot. We each have our own experiences, our own values, that lead us to conclusions about what it takes to be the best up there, and we're all entitled. After ten years of flying, I've finally figured out my definition of superior airmanship. I'd like to share my thoughts on that here.

If I had to pick one trait to describe what makes a good pilot, it would be discipline. It's taken me ten years to finally land on this, and I'm completely convinced. For me, the elusive search for that one magical trait has ended. It's all about discipline. Everything we do in airplanes comes back to discipline. History's most successful airmen have all embodied this characteristic -- Charles Lindbergh, Captain Al Haynes, Captain "Sully," even Orville and Wilbur Wright. Flying safely and efficiently requires great precision and strict adherence to operating procedure. Deviating from these principles is usually the result of undisciplined behavior, and history demonstrates some of aviation's most tragic accidents have been caused by this. Almost all major air carrier accidents have been mostly or entirely attributed to human error. The world's most unsuccessful pilots have been those of weak discipline on the flight deck -- the crews of the aircraft involved in the collision at Tenerife, the recent crash of Colgan Air 3407, the crash of an L10-11 after a windshear encounter at Dallas, and even the recent Northwest A320 overflight at Minneapolis. All of these accidents could be attributed to a lack of flight crew discipline.

Human error is aviation's last major area of concern in the risk management battle. After only about a hundred years in the air, that's pretty darn amazing. Humans have successfully eliminated (or at least come close) all major areas of risk in aircraft operations except human error. That's why human factors research is such a big deal right now. It's the only remaining area where we're losing the fight. The ingredient of discipline in pilot action is the savior. The phrase "straighten up and fly right" is valid here. That's exactly what we need to do. We must hold ourselves accountable for the mistakes and failures we make as human pilots and devise methods for correcting those mistakes. When an airplane malfunctions during flight testing, it must be fixed before it's certified to fly. The same standard needs to apply to humans. After all, an airplane is only as safe as the human flying it. Even in the age of aircraft automation, pilots can still override computers and crash airplanes (i.e. the crash of Colgan Air 3407). No matter how smart airplanes continue to be built, pilots of lesser intelligence or discipline will continue to send them to bad places in the sky, places where airplanes shouldn't be. I've written about this before (see post: Drawing Lines in the Sky).

Advancements in avionics technology are wonderful, and they're doing much to reduce accident rates. A flight computer is supremely disciplined. Set a minimum altitude, and it will never descend below it. Not even one foot. Set that same altitude in a human brain, and the outcome won't be so certain. That's the result of lack of discipline. I've written about the imperative requirement to never descend below instrument approach minimums unless the runway is in sight because many aircraft have crashed this way. Again, those accidents were caused by undisciplined behavior.

All pilot action, whether it be in a cockpit, during a preflight inspection, or in a flight planning room, is a test of discipline. I've realized that's why I love flying so much. It evolves me, challenges me, makes me a better person. The more care and precision you put into your flying, the more it will reward you. Discipline is involved during all phases of flight, including pre- and post-flight tasks. Is your flight planning sloppy and hurried? Slow down, force your mind to relax, and get it done correctly and precisely. Safety starts on the ground. Are you breezing through the preflight inspection? Stop. Go back and start over, and do it right this time. Instrument flying calls for the highest degree of discipline. Not only in the form of strict adherence to headings, altitudes, power settings, and course guidance, but also in the decision making department. Let's say you're in cruise and you calculate your fuel remaining on landing to be fifty-seven minutes and your personal fuel reserve minimum is one hour. That should be a simple decision... Divert and re-fuel, then continue on to the destination. Your fuel reserve minimum is one hour, not fifty-seven minutes, right? Keep it simple, and keep it highly disciplined. Take as much discretion out of your aeronautical decisions as you can. That's how the airlines do it, by following policies and standard operating procedures. It works very well for them.

Apply this same level of discipline to every aspect of your operation. Pilots should never use the phrases "close enough," or "that's about right." How about your airspeed on final? You know your landing reference speed is eighty knots, so if the needle is sitting on eighty-one, you'd better be correcting. Your landing reference speed is eighty knots, not eighty-one, right? That's simple. I'll quote Richard Collins again here, "The needle has to be somewhere, so why not have it be in exactly the right place?"

There are endless examples of how discipline interacts with our flying. The best pilots I've ever flown with have been highly disciplined people. They've also had an outstanding ability to keep things very simple in the cockpit, and in a way I think that's a byproduct of discipline. It's disciplined thinking. It's as though pilots could always come back to one question during any part of a flight operation to keep them on the straight and narrow: "Here's the result I need. Here's the result I currently have. Do they match?" If they don't, make them. And think precisely. The example I gave of adherence to landing reference speed demonstrates this. Eighty-one knots is not the same as eighty knots. Remember, don't let your mind fall into the "close enough" mode. That results in sloppy thinking, and sloppy thinking yields sloppy (and often dangerous) flying. Challenge yourself to stay sharp, stay precise, and maintain discipline. You'll be speaking the aircraft's language and it will appreciate your partnership.

There are many important traits and characteristics of superior airmanship, but after ten years of questing to be the best pilot I can be, I've come to the conclusion that discipline trumps them all. "The right stuff" used to be about stick and rudder skills, and now it's become about pilot character. That stick and rudder stuff is just a small fraction of what makes a good pilot. More importantly, it's about becoming a professional from within. Flying transforms our lives in amazing ways, and in turn, we transform flying. The more we improve ourselves as pilots, the better the system works.

Sing to Me, Turbofan

2010-01-27T00:50:00.004-06:00

To me, the most beautiful sound in the world is the spool-up of a turbofan engine. It gives me chills every time. Years ago at my home base airport, our flight academy building was located across from our mother FBO. We shared ramp space with transient parking, and if I happened to be walking across the ramp when a jet began its start sequence, I'd always stop and listen. There's just no other sound like it. I'd wait for the "click, click, click..." and then hear the whine start to sing as the turbine began spinning faster and faster. Major cool. I'd always grin, and I still do.

A jet takeoff would bring business to a standstill for a few seconds inside the flight academy building as everyone inside peered out the window and listened to the engines roar. Nothing inspires me more than watching and listening as a jet rockets down the runway and leaps into the sky.

For the turbine-challenged (or unexposed), which many piston pilots are, here are the basics of turbofan operation. Surprisingly, jet engine operation is much more simple than piston engine operation. A turbofan engine consists of three major parts: the compressor section, the ignition/combustion section, and the turbine section. Air is sucked into the engine by a series of compressor fans at the front of the engine. The speed of the first and largest compressor fan is expressed as a value of N1 in the cockpit. After intake air is compressed it enters the ignition/combustion section. Here the compressed air is mixed with fuel and ignited. The expanding gas then accelerates over the turbine causing it to spin very quickly (turbine speed is expressed as a value of N2 in the cockpit). The burned fuel/air exhaust gas then travels out the back of the engine through the exhaust nozzle. The spinning turbine, in turn, spins the compressor fans and the process becomes self-sustained. Bleed air from an auxiliary power unit is often used to set the engine into this self-perpetuating motion on startup.

The hot exhaust gas stream out the back of the engine results in high pressure behind the engine. Because the pressure in front of the engine is much lower than behind it, the engine (and airplane it is attached to) are sucked forward. This works similarly to how an airfoil produces lift. Airplanes fly by altering pressure around them, and they are quite literally being sucked upward and onward. Many older jets express engine power in terms of engine pressure ratio (EPR). EPR (pronounced "e-per," if you want jet pilots to think you're cool) compares the pressure at the back of the engine to the pressure at the front of the engine. The larger the difference, the greater the power.

Modern turbofan engines are high bypass engines, meaning most of the intake air bypasses the engine core and is simply accelerated and directed out the back of the engine. High bypass engines are quieter and more efficient. If you've ever seen an old military fighter takeoff and noticed black exhaust streaks behind it, it was probably a low bypass turbojet engine. Those black streaks are basically unburned fuel.

A byproduct of jet engines is bleed air. Bleed air is compressed air that is "bled" from the engine during some stage of the compression process. It is directed away from the engine and is used for ice control and environmental control purposes. Because the bleed air is hot, it can be circulated through engine nacelles and leading edges of the wings to heat them up for anti-ice functionality. The remaining compressed air is usually directed into the cabin for pressurization and heating or cooling. In some jets, engine bleeds must be left off during takeoff so all available intake air can be used for the production of thrust. Flight crews refer to this as a "bleeds off takeoff," and it's normally performed on shorter runways and/or at high density altitudes and high weights. Just like a good hunter doesn't waste any animal, a jet engine doesn't waste any of its capability to produce power and useful bleed air.

Another cool thing about turbofan engines is that their thrust production is non-linear. On takeoff, for example, as the airplane accelerates down the runway, more and more air is being rammed into the engine because of the increase in speed. This is called "ram recovery." Because the engine is moving through the air faster, more air is being gulped in for compression and the engine produces more thrust. This means the rate at which the airplane accelerates down the runway increases during the takeoff run. It is, indeed, a spirited affair.

Jet engines, they're a thing of beauty. Extremely reliable, efficient, and incredibly sexy. And they sing so beautifully, like a serenade to my ears.

(Citation CJ1 engine start) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8TboIEJyg8

Shallow and Coordinated

2010-01-21T20:43:00.002-06:00

The FAA is concerned about low altitude stall/spin accidents these days. As well they should be. Quite a few of these accidents have happened in the past, so they've become a focus area. They're rather scary, too. Being low and [usually] slow, banking steeply, stalling and spinning in with no room for recovery is a grim scene. Luckily, there are things that can be done to protect you from becoming a stall/spin statistic.

Low altitude stall/spin accident usually happen in the traffic pattern, often during the turn from base to final. A tailwind on base is usually a contributing factor because it sets the stage for an overshoot of final, which invokes potential for a steepening bank at low altitude and airspeed. To make matters worse, the steep bank is often cross-controlled because the pilot subconsciously tries to cheat by turning the nose of the airplane back toward the runway using rudder. The steep bank plus the added adverse yaw most likely calls for opposite aileron deflection. The steep bank and increased load factor causes stall speed to increase exponentially and rapidly, the wing stalls in an uncoordinated turn, and presto, a spin is born. The base-to-final turn is usually executed below five hundred feet, so there's no room to recover and an almost certainly fatal crash results. It happens fast.

This does not have to happen to you. All that's required is a little vigilance in the pattern, and bank and airspeed discipline. Limit banks made in the traffic pattern to no more than thirty degrees. This will guarantee stall speed won't spike suddenly when you have little airspeed in the bank. Banking steeply causes a sudden withdrawal to your angle of attack margin savings account as the margin between current angle of attack and critical (stalling) angle of attack is cut exponentially. And during a phase of flight where airspeed isn't on your side you can't afford to make large withdrawals like that without changing something first. Banking can be thought of as a form of withdrawal from your angle of attack margin when airspeed remains constant, so limiting banking at low airspeed and altitude ensures you won't suffer an overdraw when you least desire it. Make a policy that banks in the pattern can never be steeper than thirty degrees. If greater bank is required because of an overshoot of final, the only option would be a go-around and an earlier turn to final on the next approach. There is never a reason to roll steeper than thirty degrees when a go-around is available.

In addition to the low altitude thirty degree bank limit, focus on making coordinated turns in the pattern. Your turns should always be coordinated, but this is even more important when low to the ground and slow. An airplane simply can not spin unless it is uncoordinated, so even if a stall occurs, if it's coordinated it will almost certainly be recoverable. Stall recoveries usually don't require more than one hundred feet, but spin recoveries can require thousands. Keep your turns coordinated and you'll never have to worry about spinning. Cross-check your inclinometer ("ball") and make sure it stays centered throughout the turn. When the airplane is coordinated, it's very unlikely for the wings to stall unevenly, so that protects you from entering a spin.

Of course, proper airspeed control is also important. Getting low and slow while banking is not a low risk form of flying. Keep the proper amount of airspeed in the bank to stay healthily away from a stall. But, remember, stalling is ALL about angle of attack. A gust of wind can change the wing's angle of attack, so in gusty conditions it's wise to carry extra airspeed (proportional to the velocity of the gusts). Bank angle increases load factor, and increased load factor causes stall speed to depart from the numbers in the POH and the arcs on the airspeed indicator and rise quickly. That's why banking should only be done conservatively in low altitude/low airspeed situations (i.e. the traffic pattern).

Don't forget to anticipate tailwinds on base, too. A tailwind on base calls for an earlier-than-normal turn to final. Anticipating this will reduce your likelihood of feeling tempted to over-bank to re-align with the runway. If you do overshoot, though, that's one of the worst places to bank steeply and a go-around should be given serious consideration.

Keeping your turns shallow and coordinated in the traffic pattern will offer your reliable protection from low altitude stall/spin accidents. It's a simple way of setting safety boundaries during low altitude/low airspeed operations.

New York SFRA

2010-01-17T17:10:00.002-06:00

In the aftermath of the August 8, 2009 mid-air collision killing nine over the Hudson River, the FAA has implemented a new Special Flight Rules Area (SFRA) for the New York City terminal airspace. Having just completed the recommended training on the new SFRA, I thought I'd offer a summary of the new rules.

Essentially, the new SFRA works to group aircraft into similar types of operations (transient or local). Mid-air conflicts arise when airspace becomes congested with aircraft of dissimilar performance characteristics, missions, and types of operations. The SFRA attempts to reduce traffic conflicts by creating a more orderly flow of traffic over the Hudson and East Rivers.

Hudson River Exclusion (Transient and Local Operations)

If you wish to conduct a transient operation (flying from one end of the Hudson River to the other without maneuvering or loitering), you've got two options. First, you can transition the class Bravo airspace above the Hudson river (with an ATC clearance, of course) if you wish to operate at or above 1,300' MSL. Second, you may operate in the "Hudson River Exclusion" between 1,000' and 1,299' MSL without an ATC clearance. Local operations operate over the Hudson River below 1,000'.

Transient operations are expected to "keep right" over the Hudson River. Meaning, southbound flights should fly along the west side of the river, and northbound flights should fly along the east side of the river.

East River Exclusion

The FAA does not distinguish between transient and local operations for aircraft flying over the East River. The East River Exclusion extends from the surface to the floor of overlying Class Bravo airspace and does require an ATC clearance to operate within.

Hudson and East River Exclusions

There are some general rules that pertain to both Exclusions:

Do not exceed 140 knots indicated airspeed.
The use of navigation/position lights is required (if equipped), even during daylight hours (as is the use of anticollision lights, but those would be required anyway). The use of landing lights is also recommended.
Self-announce your position on the appropriate radio frequency for the Hudson River or East River. Frequencies can be found on the New York TAC chart.
You must have a current New York TAC chart onboard and be familiar with the information contained therein.

The New York Terminal Area Chart contains the info you need to navigate the SFRA, including locations of mandatory position reports that are required to be made on the appropriate advisory frequency.

Local operations (below 1,000' MSL) that wish to circle the Statue of Liberty should circle counter-clockwise.

That sums up the major points of the New York SFRA. Although specific training is not required to operate within the SFRA, it is recommended. Visit FAASafety.gov to take the free training course.

Drawing Lines in the Sky

2010-01-12T15:34:00.003-06:00

It is well documented that pilots who fly multiple instrument approach attempts to an airport are engaging in high risk flying. Many pilots crash on a second, third, or fourth (or more!) approach attempt in bad weather. This is why it's illegal for air carriers to attempt an instrument approach to an airport when the reported weather conditions are below minimums. Many pilots have perished while "taking a peek" on an approach. If the advertised weather at the field is below the approach minimums, don't peek, just divert. Peeking often involves fudging on minimums, and fudging often involves crashing.

If memory serves me, I remember reading about a pilot of a single engine airplane who crashed after seven approach attempts to an airport in bad weather. Seven! What was he thinking (or rather, not thinking)? So, what caused this pilot to crash? Was it the low weather? The approach procedure? The airplane? None of the above. It was the human that caused the crash. Clearly, this pilot deviated from the charted approach procedure and wandered into a dangerous area. Had the pilot not strayed from the charted procedure's courses and/or altitudes, he would not have crashed. No one has ever come to grief while flying on the final approach course at or above the minimum descent altitude (MDA) or decision altitude (DA). It just doesn't happen.

During the descent out of the enroute structure and into the approach structure the risk level is continuously rising. If only we had a "current risk level" gauge on the panel, color coded in green, yellow, and red arcs. Instead, we must visualize this in our minds throughout the various phases of flight. As we descend closer to those things which can hurt us, terrain and obstructions, we must be extra careful. When I'm flying IFR, I like to think of the ground beneath me as a spike pit. Airports are small areas carved out of the spike pit that are safe for airplanes to touch. The approach phase requires us to operate closer to the spike pit for a longer period of time than any other phase of flight. Because we can't see the spikes (trees, antennas, structures) while operating in clouds, one of the simplest and most definite ways of staying safe is to follow the lines and altitudes drawn on the approach chart. The chart could be thought of as a treasure map showing the only tried and true way through the cave to the destination. Deviating from the published path will lead you into uncertain and dangerous conditions. That's what happens when pilots "duck below" the MDA or DA to try to get a better view. The spikes get them.

When I reflect on accidents involving multiple approach attempts like the one above, I become aware of the true problem which causes these accidents. Lack of discipline. Every approach procedure should be flown exactly the same. They would be if pilots would let them be. If pilots would simply follow the charted procedure exactly, we would see no IFR approach accidents. Every instrument approach procedure is guaranteed to keep the airplane safely away from terrain and obstructions if it's flown and adhered to properly. It's when pilots stray from the beaten path out into uncharted airspace that they find trouble lurking in the gray. The pilot who flew seven approaches, however foolish, still wouldn't have had to crash on the last attempt had he just followed the charted procedure.

The approach phase of an IFR flight requires the greatest level of discipline and strict adherence to course and altitude guidance. The only way to avoid flying into something we can't see is to draw lines in the sky, and never cross those lines for any reason. Approach charts draw those lines for us. They're clear and simple, and we're prohibited from crossing them because danger lurks on the other side. Instrument approach procedures promise to keep us safe as long as we promise to never stray from them. If you reach the missed approach point and don't absolutely positively see the runway, you've reached the line drawn in the sky on the approach and you must immediately and enthusiastically initiate a missed approach. That's the only way to stay safe for sure. Venturing across that line is a massive gamble; you may or may not crash, but you're guaranteed to at least come closer.

Sometimes humans overthink things. That can lead to trouble on an instrument approach. The best way to fly an approach is to keep it very simple. Runway environment not in sight at the decision altitude? Simple: Go missed. Don't wait, don't hope, just move on to the next course of action. Multiple approach attempts are situations where pilots are likely to cross lines drawn in the sky, and unless there was some major weather event that might indicate the weather has improved for the next approach, don't do this. If the approach was flown properly the first time and it resulted in a miss, the same will be true the second and third time. Diverting to an alternate is a good way of ensuring you won't cross the line into unprotected and dangerous airspace.

"Intercept the Localizer..."

2010-01-03T15:59:00.002-06:00

"Cherokee five mike charlie, turn left heading 120, intercept the runway 8 Left localizer." Most instrument pilots have received an ATC instruction like this, but many don't understand its meaning. Implicit in this instruction is a limit not to descend or otherwise fly the approach procedure via your own navigation. Some pilots confuse this instruction with an approach clearance and believe they're cleared to descend and fly the charted procedure. Not yet. That clearance will most likely come shortly.

When a controller issues an instruction to "intercept the localizer," he's giving you a simple lateral instruction, much like an instruction to join an airway. He does not expect you to do anything other than just what he said, join the localizer. You might also hear a controller use this phraseology in lieu of "intercept." "Join the localizer" carries with it the same meaning and expectations. Turn onto the localizer, fly it, and await further clearance. DO NOT fly the approach procedure until you hear the words "cleared for XXX approach." You're not authorized to descend or make any turns called for by the approach until you've received approach clearance.

When a controller does issue an approach clearance, he's releasing you from his instructions to fly the approach under your own navigation following the charted procedure's courses and altitudes. Until you hear those magic words, "cleared for XXX approach," the controller is keeping you tight on his leash and you must obey only his commands.

So, why do controllers issue instructions only to intercept the localizer instead of fly the approach? Controllers have rules about when they can issue approach clearances to aircraft depending on traffic and your distance and altitude from the airport or some other fix. The controller can't let you off his leash to conduct the approach procedure until certain conditions are met. He'll clear you when he can, and in the meantime maintain your assigned altitude and simply do as he says, intercept the localizer and track it inbound.

AAL 311

2009-12-23T17:24:00.003-06:00

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...

You Snooze, You Lose

2009-12-15T16:25:00.004-06:00

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.

Right-of-Way, The Right Way!

2009-12-06T22:46:00.003-06:00

"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:

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.

Brief or Grief

2009-11-16T00:02:00.003-06:00

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.

PIREPs

2009-11-14T22:33:00.003-06:00

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...

NWA 188

2009-10-25T13:10:00.002-05:00

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.

"I Knew I Could Do It."

2009-10-21T22:16:00.008-05:00

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.

Line Up and Wait

2009-10-20T15:34:00.002-05:00

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!

Stick to the Plan

2009-09-24T21:15:00.004-05:00

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.

Good News

2009-09-22T14:57:00.003-05:00

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.

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.

"We Have Clearance, Clarence."

2009-09-11T20:13:00.002-05:00

"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.

Airplane Pain

2009-09-08T20:49:00.002-05:00

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.

Laser Danger

2009-08-18T22:01:00.002-05:00

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.

No Hydraulics

2009-08-13T14:14:00.002-05:00

"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.

Heads Up, Eyes Out

2009-08-12T16:11:00.002-05:00

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.

Mid-Air

2009-08-08T22:24:00.002-05:00

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.

Sing it, Mac!

2009-07-30T13:56:00.002-05:00

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.

Reg Review #2

2009-07-24T11:25:00.002-05:00

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.

Reg Review #1

2009-07-23T13:54:00.002-05:00

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.

Traffic Advisories

2009-07-16T21:36:00.003-05:00

"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!

AWE1549 CVR

2009-07-13T12:15:00.002-05:00

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

Quiet, Please.

2009-06-28T23:37:00.003-05:00

[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

2009-06-26T12:06:00.002-05:00

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

2009-06-25T19:05:00.002-05:00

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

2009-06-17T19:49:00.003-05:00

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

2009-06-15T19:42:00.002-05:00

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

2009-06-14T11:01:00.004-05:00

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

2009-06-13T14:07:00.003-05:00

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

2009-06-12T17:26:00.004-05:00

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

2009-06-06T23:02:00.003-05:00

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

2009-06-06T20:53:00.003-05:00

[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

2009-06-01T16:43:00.002-05:00

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

2009-06-01T11:32:00.005-05:00

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

2009-06-01T10:16:00.004-05:00

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.

Deliberate Action

2009-05-31T13:11:00.003-05:00

I silently pointed at the throttle. I watched in my peripheral vision as Steve vacantly stared at my finger, then at the throttle. The airplane sluggishly climbed and the airspeed began to decay. "We need full power," I said using my patient flight instructor voice. Steve advanced the throttle from three quarters to full; he seemed flustered and I could sense his frustration.

Steve was a student of mine (the name has been changed to protect the innocent). Steve and I were practicing power-off (approach to landing) stalls this day early in his primary training. I noticed that each time he would initiate the stall recovery procedure Steve would be reluctant to immediately and authoritatively advance the throttle lever to full power. I wondered if I had conditioned him too heavily to never jam a throttle forward. Steve was a bright guy, though, and I knew he understood the procedure and the significance of applying full power immediately during a power-off stall recovery. So what was the hang-up? I had seen this tendency before in other students and even in myself during my early training stages years ago. Clearly the problem wasn't lack of knowledge or comprehension. Something else was holding Steve back from executing the recovery properly.

This led me to reflect inwardly on human confidence, which directly relates to the actions we take in the cockpit. When a person feels uncertain of their abilities to perform a task a slight (or not-so-slight) hesitation can be observed in their actions. It feels uneasy and unnatural for this person to take charge of the situation and take authoritative action. This tendency can be seen frequently in students during initial training. When a student's confidence level is low it inhibits him or her from taking concise, deliberate action. This is something that must be worked through in order for the student to become a successful pilot because exactly this type of action is continuously required while commanding an aircraft. I thought I could help Steve overcome his hesitation during stall recoveries and other maneuvers by having a discussion on the ground with him about deliberate action.

I challenged Steve to become self-aware and monitor his actions closely during flight, and if he felt himself begin to adjust the power, raise the flaps, run a checklist, or respond to air traffic control in a fuzzy, unclear or unsure way to stop what he was doing and think about what needed to be done. "Anytime you flip a switch, move the throttle or mixture, touch the flap handle, or key up the mic it should be for a deliberate reason to accomplish a necessary task," I said to Steve. "If you find yourself hesitating with uncertainty before you flip a switch or change the power setting, stop. Set your hand in your lap and put your brain to work. Make a plan to accomplish what needs to be done and execute that plan, then put your hand back in your lap until it's time to do it again," I said. After a little coaching Steve was making huge progress and began taking much more deliberate action during stall recoveries and other maneuvers. His proficiency grew as did his confidence.

Focus on taking only one type of action in the cockpit: deliberate action. Uncertain action should be left for deciding what to have for dinner after the flight. When you catch yourself hesitating on your way to perform a task (gear down, flap setting change, fuel pump off, frequency selection, etc.), stop. Bring your brain back into the game and figure out what exactly needs to be done, then do it and nothing more. This forces you into a mode of uncluttered thinking that breeds good decisions and good airmanship. It also reduces the amount of mistakes you'll make. I like to play a game with myself where I imagine that every tiny move I make whether it be a control pressure on the yoke or rudder pedals, a power adjustment, manipulating switches, or anything else involving my hands or feet is being recorded electronically and monitored by a competition judge on the ground. After I land I'll be required to justify every move I made by providing a legitimate reason for the action. For instance, if I was high on approach I reduced power one hundred RPM. Still high? I reduced another fifty RPM. If there were any additional extraneous power changes that couldn't be explained points would be deducted. This promotes a culture of deliberate action and only the clearest thinking. Think about how an autopilot flies. It takes only the action it calculates as being required for the present circumstances, no more, no less. Humans can (and should) fly like this too.

Some pilots never learned this. In fact, I once saw a statistic that indicated the majority of airline crews fail to utilize full and immediate control input during unusual attitude recovery simulator training, even though that's exactly what the situation calls for. Certainly it takes discipline to calm a noisy mind, especially during times of emergency. But calm minds thinking clearly do a better job flying airplanes, and tolerating only deliberate action during flight helps to reduce human error and improve flight safety and efficiency.

Minimums

2009-05-28T10:22:00.002-05:00

The engine and slipstream noise is low, the cockpit is dim, the approach is stabilized with the needles centered, and the view out front is dimensionless gray. Your glances at the altimeter are becoming more frequent as the needle approaches the decision altitude. The middle marker tone begins, two-hundred feet, you look up, no runway. Decision time.

Some pilots make the wrong decision when they're presented with these circumstances. The decision, though, is an excruciatingly simple one: execute a missed approach. Instrument pilots know that the regulations call for a mandatory missed approach if the runway environment is not in sight at the published missed approach point. It's clear, simple, easy to understand and easy to apply to real-world situations. Yet we still find wrecked airplanes short of runways after a failed instrument approach procedure.

The Webster Dictionary definition for the word "minimum" is as follows: "the least quantity assignable, admissible, or possible." Let's reflect on the word minimum for a moment. A minimum is a value that is perhaps much lower than the ideal amount for given circumstances. It's not low, it's not really low, it's the absolute least possible amount. It's an extreme. It defines the absolute edge. Now apply this description to instrument approach minimums. Published approach minimums define the absolute lowest possible altitude (literally to the foot) at which an aircraft can be operated safely on a particular approach segment. Minimums aren't recommended altitudes, they exist to define the absolute extreme to which you can descend if you so choose. Many times chart symbology depicts this on the instrument approach chart profile view by showing a solid line below the published minimum altitude but not above it. That means you can fly above the listed altitude but never below it. I almost never descend all the way to the published minimum descent altitude (MDA) on a nonprecision approach. I prefer to level-off seventy-five to one-hundred feet above the MDA to leave myself an added safety margin. Safety is absolutely guaranteed at or above the minimum altitude listed on the chart, and danger is absolutely guaranteed below it. This is true of any approach.

Minimums are a last resort. Think of the MDA on a nonprecision approach or decision altitude (DA) on a precision approach as altitude options for your last ditch effort to find the runway environment -- the absolute minimum altitude to which you are authorized to descend in order to acquire the needed visual references to continue the approach.

Picture yourself on a narrow, uneven, dark and icy mountain road where the posted speed limit is fifty miles per hour (MPH). Notice the words used there: the speed limit. In other words, the maximum allowable speed you are authorized to drive. Visually depicted the minimum and maximum are the extremes, way out on the edges of the graph or chart. The ideal value is usually somewhere in between. Would driving fifty MPH here under these circumstances be conducive to safety? Absolutely not. Perhaps half of the limit would be a better idea. Fifty MPH is not the recommended speed, it simply defines the absolute edge of what is permissible. It's up to the driver to select the most appropriate speed below this value.

Unfortunately, in flying a traffic citation usually is not the only repercussion for violating the published limit. When a pilot descends below a published minimum altitude on an instrument approach he is elevating the risk level of the flight instantly into the red. He's depending only on luck for his survival. Many have died this way.

There is only one way to stay safe when approaching an airport in instrument conditions, and that is to follow the approved instrument approach procedure to the letter. Any deviation from what's charted equals a drastic and immediate increase in risk because margins are already small in the approach environment. The good news is that we're tasked with a simple mission: do exactly what the approach procedure calls for and don't worry about doing (or even thinking about) anything else. Are the required visual cues clearly visible at the missed approach point? If so, land if in a position to maneuver normally to the runway. If not, execute the missed approach procedure. Do this every time and you'll survive every approach.

Minimums are called minimums because they are just that and nothing else. Back to our flight at the beginning, the obvious and only thing to do at this point is begin the missed approach procedure. The increase in engine and slipstream noise means only that you are traveling away from terrain and obstructions, back to safety and an area of increased margins. From there another decision can be made about what to do to keep the flight operating safely.

Forget Procedures, This is an Emergency!

2009-05-26T14:07:00.003-05:00

Expletives, lots of expletives. That's what you'll find peppered throughout most cockpit voice recorder (CVR) transcripts from air carrier accidents. Sometimes it seems the only space between the expletives is frozen silence.

Our ancient limbic brain is programmed to freeze our body (and cognitive mind) during times of danger to protect us from being detected by predators. Unfortunately, this "deer in the headlights" response is exactly the opposite of what is needed in times of emergency on the flight deck. The "limbic freeze" response (which precedes the familiar flight or fight responses) hijacks our thinking brain and causes us to lock up and refrain from taking immediate action in response to an emergency. In aviation this is often referred to as the "startle factor." Examples of this can be seen from low altitude engine failure accidents in single engine airplanes shortly after takeoff. The average human pauses for more than five seconds (sometimes much longer) before responding to the situation, establishing a glide and selecting a suitable landing spot if one is available. Initial mental reactions tend to be limited and any thinking happening is probably along the lines of, "This can't be happening." That inner resistance to circumstances which already exist has proven to be quite fatal in airplanes. So what can we do to avoid this? There are plenty of things we can do.

All pilots receive emergency procedures training on various emergency situations throughout their training. Procedures are learned and practiced repeatedly for emergencies such as engine failure, engine fire, partial panel flying for instrument students, and many others. That is a good start, however, there is an extraordinary amount of room for improvement in emergency procedures training for general aviation pilots. Many pilots learn procedures that are designed to save their life but are unable to access those skills during a real-life event. That does the pilot exactly no good, and the pilot would've been just as well off having not received any emergency procedures training in the first place. I'm disappointed when I read accident reports where the pilot or flight crew threw all learned, rehearsed, trained, and practiced procedures to the wind when things got serious because they did not possess the mental ability to override the powerful limbic response of the brain. They probably never realized how different and scary it would feel when it actually happened in the real world. That's something we don't train for in today's system. Learning procedures to be used in an emergency is only half the battle, learning to overcome or manage the intense physiological response during a real emergency is the other (and just as critical) half.

I advise you to use the power of your imagination and do some armchair flying. Make up scary situations and imagine what you would do. Think about how terrified you'd probably be and how you'd handle those feelings. What would you do? What would you think? Be honest about your fear and prepare yourself for ways you'd calm or suppress that fear when you think you hear your angels singing. This is the best method of physiological stress training we currently have for pilots. Some airlines are beginning to use simulators that more accurately simulate the loud bangs and rattles of compressor stalls or bird strikes, and that's a tremendous step in the right direction.

I recently read a CVR transcript from a regional jet that crashed during a repositioning flight in central Missouri. Luckily, only two pilots were aboard. The crew experienced a failure of both engines at high altitude allowing for a considerable amount of time from the onset of the emergency until impact with a house. I was surprised to see just how poorly the emergency was handled by the crew. Virtually no crew resource management (CRM) techniques were used, the cockpit seemed chaotic and disorderly, and the crew even lied to air traffic control about their situation which prevented them from receiving an early vector toward a nearby airport where they may've been able to glide. This crew clearly threw all procedures and emergency tactics out the window which resulted in a fatal crash and what easily could've been loss of life on the ground. It's a shame that the simulator sessions and hours these pilots spent practicing for emergencies like this one were ignored during the one and only time they would be needed. The reason pilots train for emergencies is so that we'll be able to employ those skills during an emergency to keep us alive, so if you don't use these procedures during an emergency, when would you ever use them?

We've got to keep our brains thinking clearly and usefully during times of great fear and stress. That's the only way to survive up there when things go wrong. All pilots have heard the phrase, "Fly the airplane." No matter what happens, fly the airplane. This is a tactic for managing physiological response to danger. It's a good start, but we need to be training pilots to a much greater extent on this topic. Pilots need to know to expect a freeze, a dried out throat and sweaty palms with that primitive part of the brain shouting "Stop!" We have to able to calmly and assertively say "go" with our thinking brain, take several deep breaths, clear our mind of unhelpful fear and focus on what needs to be done to preserve life. Hopefully, someday physiological response training will be a mandatory pre-solo training topic for new students.

Flying requires humans to override ancient physiological responses of the limbic brain in order to manage emergencies. This is just one example of how transcendental flying really is. Once these skills are learned they can be transferred to other life situations. And when a sticky situation presents itself, you'll probably find that you need to use fewer expletives, too.

Cockpit Flows for GA

2009-05-25T12:21:00.002-05:00

Some of you are thinking, "What the heck's a cockpit flow?" Most GA pilots aren't familiar with this term. Many pilots will be surprised that they've been using cockpit flows for years without knowing it. A cockpit flow is a systematic way of configuring an aircraft's systems by visually sweeping your eyes and hand across various panels while manipulating any switches or knobs that need to be selected or changed for the current phase of flight. Jet crews do this every flight. There's a flow for each phase of flight. For instance, captain's receiving flow, first officer's after takeoff flow, captain's landing flow, etcetera. After a flow is completed a checklist is run to make sure nothing was missed. This is the difference between a check-list and a do-list. A checklist is used to check that everything was completed as required, and a do-list is used to walk the pilot through a flow. Some airlines refer to a do-list as "read and do."

Cockpit flows are typically only used on flight decks of high performance aircraft. However, cockpit flows are just as useful and contribute just as much to flight safety in a Piper Archer cockpit as they do in a transport jet.

Light aircraft demand a professional approach to their operation in just the same way complex jets do. A Cessna 150 can be just as deadly as Concorde or a Boeing 767. In terms of safety and human survivability, 110 MPH is no less dangerous than 550 MPH. On the same token, an altitude of 2,000 feet above the surface holds no less potential to kill a human than flight level 390. Far more people die in GA airplanes than on air carriers every year. While GA airplanes aren't nearly as complex as higher performance aircraft in terms of systems they're just as hazardous to a person's health when not operated in a professional manner; sometimes they're even more hazardous due to lack of systems redundancy that jets are built with. Transport jets always have more than one engine, backup fuel pumps, backup flight instruments, and an APU or air driven generator to provide electrical (and hydraulic) power in the event of engine(s) failure. Many light airplanes also aren't equipped with ice control systems or weather detection/avoidance gear. Light airplane pilots don't have the luxury of climbing above certain adverse weather conditions and are forced to operate in the lower atmosphere where most of the earth's weather is concentrated. Light airplanes are affected by winds and turbulence (including wake turbulence) to a greater extent than heavy aircraft too, and turbine powered airplanes have drastically superior climb and cruise performance capabilities. On the human factors side, jets are almost always operated by two or more pilots. Us GA guys are often the only pilot in the cockpit and don't have an extra brain and set of eyes and ears to catch our mistakes. Some GA airplanes don't even have an autopilot; many don't even have a heading bug. I can remember years ago flying a Piper Cherokee without an autopilot installed in low IFR conditions at night shooting approaches and executing holds just for fun, single pilot (I wouldn't do that today).

GA pilots flying IFR operate in the exact same air traffic control system as the airliners do, and often we fly in more challenging weather systems than the slippery high flyers do. We fly far more nonprecision instrument approaches than jet crews do, often in nonradar environments without the aid of ATC vectors and safety alerts. Often the runways we use are marginal in runway lighting and length at airports without weather reporting or radar service.
Light airplane flying requires just as much professionalism and discipline as jet flying. Somehow people will argue this. I suppose when all one considers is aircraft systems complexity it is true that high performance aircraft require more flip switching and systems configuration during operation, but missing one switch or lever in a light airplane can be just as risk-elevating as it would be in a jet (landing gear lever, for instance). Certainly the flows in a Piper Archer cockpit will look different than in a Boeing 737, fewer switches to manipulate and fewer systems to configure or re-configure, but forgetting something as simple as turning on the carburetor heat for descent could potentially lead to an engine failure. And maybe that engine failure occurs at night at low altitude over rugged terrain. There has to be a system used to prevent us from forgetting these things. That's what cockpit flows are for.

I can remember a time before I used cockpit flows when I was preparing for takeoff in a Piper Archer. I had completed my before takeoff do-list but had deferred a couple of items on the list (fuel pump and landing lights) because of a delay in receiving takeoff clearance. I had planned to turn them on upon taking the runway for departure. The takeoff clearance came and at five hundred feet I reached up to perform my after takeoff do-list and realized I had forgotten to turn the fuel pump and landing lights on. Whoops. Luckily that day wasn't my day to have a runway incursion or low altitude engine-driven fuel pump failure. Had I been using cockpit flows those switches wouldn't have been forgotten and the risk during takeoff would have been more effectively managed.

Cockpit flows are designed to minimize human error, and there's plenty of human error to be minimized. Do yourself, your passengers, and the innocent folks on the ground a favor and design a cockpit flow that works for your airplane. One of my aviation heroes, Richard L. Collins, used to own a Cessna P210. He used cockpit flows by starting at the left side of his panel and methodically working his way to the right side, considering and acknowledging every switch, knob, or lever along the way. That's an excellent way of doing things and strongly resembles the way airline crews conduct their overhead panel flows. In designing a flow for your airplane you want to make a logical, orderly pattern or route that your eyes and hand follow across applicable panels for each phase of flight. Many GA pilots are taught an engine failure flow where they start on the left side of the panel and work their way across changing any control along the way that could restore engine power. Certain flows will be extremely short, possibly one item. My after takeoff checklist flow is two items: fuel pump OFF, landing lights OFF. In a retractable gear airplane it becomes three items: gear UP--3 dark NO red, fuel pump OFF, landing lights OFF. My takeoff flow (not to be mistaken with before takeoff flow) is similarly short: mixture FULL RICH (or as required), fuel pump ON, landing lights ON. Once you have your flows for each phase of flight designed, you'll need to standardize the exact times that each flow will be completed. For instance, my takeoff flow is always completed after takeoff clearance is received and I'm lined up with the centerline, and my after landing flow is completed after the tail is clear of the hold lines and I've brought the aircraft to a complete stop on the taxiway. Don't forget that checklists must still be used after each flow is completed to double check yourself. In using a checklist you'll visually check to make sure the flow was accomplished completely and correctly.

We've got a real safety problem in general aviation. The primary reason for this is because of the people who settle in behind the yoke and throttle. Most pilots understand that an extremely high percentage of aviation accidents occur due to human error. That's completely unacceptable, and we must do better. Fly your light airplane like it's an airliner. By doing so you'll be keeping yourself, your passengers, and those innocent ground-bound people much safer.