The two-seat model is primarily designed for flight training and owns European Union Aviation Safety Agency (EASA) CS-23 and FAA Part 23 certification. It is now certified under Transport Canada’s Part V Subpart 21, allowing Tecnam to begin deliveries to private owners and flight training organizations in the country.

Designed to train students from first flight until they earn their commercial pilot license, the P-Mentor includes a variable pitch propeller, simulated retractable landing gear, and ballistic parachute. It also comes with a Garmin touchscreen and avionics and is powered by a Rotax 912iSc3 engine.

The model supports both VFR and IFR training at a cost of operation of just 89 Canadian dollars ($64.71) per hour, by Tecnam’s estimate. That efficiency enables it to fly for about nine hours between refuelings.

The company also claims the P-Mentor can reduce flight school emissions by as much as 60 percent. The aircraft could represent a fresh injection into a fleet of training aircraft that is largely aging.

“We look forward to working with all the Canadian flight schools to improve the quality of training and support lowering hourly rates,” said Giovanni Pascale Langer, managing director of Tecnam.

During last year’s EAA AirVenture, Tecnam introduced the P-Mentor in North America after agreeing to a deal with EpicSky Flight Academy for the purchase of 15 aircraft. The company earned full FAA Part 23 certification just a few months later. It started U.S. deliveries in June, beginning with a shipment to Kansas-based Kilo Charlie Aviation.

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The post Tecnam Begins Canada P-Mentor Deliveries Following Certification appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

The beauty of the ATD is that scenarios can be created and adjusted to compensate for the learner’s changing skill level. It can also be reset with a few keystrokes, providing a more expedient learning environment. Here are a few scenarios that you might find useful.

Scenario 1: The Pattern

The pattern can be very intimidating to a learner. It can also be dangerous when the learner drops the airplane to fly the checklist or radio, so practice in the ATD is often a good way to learn procedures, as the ATD is a CFI-controlled environment.

To get the most out of the scenario, the learner should use the same procedures in the airplane.

Checklists need to be followed, and the appropriate power settings and aircraft configuration for each leg of the pattern should be called out and applied. Radio calls should be made too.

If the learner is having trouble remembering what comes next, press the pause button and discuss the options. The CFI can increase the complexity of the scenario by changing the winds or refusing to engage the pause button. This is like playing a piece of music on a piano from one end to the other: You may hit some sour notes, but you will learn.

• READ MORE: Healthy Obsession: What Flight Sim Has Done for Me

Pro tip: If the ATD does not have side-view screens, the CFI should remind the learner that each turn they make will be in 90-degree increments. Note the 90-degree marks on the heading indicator as these help with orientation. If utilizing Runway 17 with left traffic, the crosswind turn will be heading 080, downwind 350, base 260, etc. This can be very helpful when the learner goes to unfamiliar airports and isn’t sure what headings to fly in the pattern.

Make sure the learner focuses on altitude control in addition to headings. Don’t accept the excuses of “I can’t fly if I can’t see the runway,” or “I can’t feel the airplane.” It’s an ATD. You’re not supposed to feel it like you do the aircraft, but this can make you a better pilot as you will develop instrument scan and interpretation skills. This can greatly improve landings as you will be ahead of the airplane and nailing the airspeed and attitude on short final.

To change things up, the instructor can program a tailwind so the learner experiences this situation in a controlled environment, where running off the runway isn’t a big deal. We file this scenario under “This Is Why We Shouldn’t Do It.”

Scenario 2: Uncommanded Loss of Engine Power

This is the big kahuna of emergency scenarios, and if it happens in the real world, knowing what to do can be the difference between telling the story in the FBO lobby or having six of your best friends carry you in a box. The beauty of engine issues in the ATD is that they can be sneaky, just like they are in the airplane. Before the learner launches, the instructor can program the engine to lose power several minutes into the flight. This is usually better than tapping at the keyboard during the sim session because that puts the learner on notice that something is about to happen.

In the airplane, loss of engine power in training is done when the instructor pulls the throttle back. Real world, if the engine loses power, the throttle is probably not going to move. This can be confusing to the learner if they have a loss of engine power—they may not recognize it and simply be surprised they are losing altitude because the throttle position hasn’t changed. The ATD scenario fixes this misconception.

• READ MORE: Our Pilots of the Future May Share Sim Stories

Partial power loss scenarios—especially at low altitude—are very useful. If a learner develops good habits for addressing the issue, that behavior will likely be automatic in the airplane. With intermittent power challenges, they should focus on troubleshooting using the appropriate checklist and decision-making skills—should we land or push on? Situational awareness is also stressed: Where is the closest airport?

For best results, don’t give the learner an engine failure on every sim session and mix up 100 percent loss of power with the occasional partial loss. The latter on takeoff is the most important. You don’t have the time or altitude to troubleshoot, so good decision-making and situational awareness is key. Learners can practice pitching for airspeed.

Always brief the land-straight-ahead scenario and at what altitude you will attempt the turn back. If you are flying with another pilot, insist on briefing who-does-what tasks in this situation. One of you needs to fly; the other takes the radios if appropriate.

Scenario 3: VFR into IFR

If you read the accident reports the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) compiles, you will notice a lot are attributed in part to the pilot’s decision to continue VFR into deteriorating weather. In the ATD the scenario begins by having the pilot check the weather before takeoff. The CFI creates a scenario with marginal VFR and a mission, like the pilot who is trying to get their airplane to the maintenance shop because it is about to go out of annual. Talk about how “get-there-itis” can make a pilot do foolish things.

These flights work best if they are limited to an airport 10 to 15 miles away. It’s just a few minutes, right? What could go wrong? Then the CFI slowly brings the weather down. VFR to MVFR…then 2 miles visibility and a ceiling of 1,200 feet agl.

If the pilot does not possess an instrument rating or is out of proficiency, things can go bad rather quickly. You may even put the learner in and out of the clouds.

• READ MORE: Cirrus Adds Second Vision Jet Simulator

In this scenario, the options are a 180-degree turn using only rudder to avoid overbanking—common when you lose the outside horizon reference—to get back to VFR conditions or contacting ATC to ask where the nearest VFR is.

Focus on basic attitude flying using the attitude, airspeed, and heading indicators, or the backup instrument(s). If the aircraft the learner flies in the real world has an autopilot and the ATD has one, teach the learner how to use it. Put the aircraft in level flight to give them a moment to consider their next course of action so they are not anxiously doing climbs, descents, and unplanned turns.

If the learner is not instrument rated but is training at an airport with an instrument approach, this might be a great time to teach them how to fly the approach as an emergency measure. It just might entice the learner to pursue an instrument rating as it will provide extra skills to address this situation and allow them to legally fly in the clouds.

Scenario 4: Crosswinds

If only flight instructors could control the weather, we’d have the learners practicing crosswind takeoffs and landings on a regular basis. But as we can’t in the real world, we set up the ATD for those scenarios, starting with the limitations used for recently soloed learners. It might be no greater than 6 knots with gusts to 10 mph. Usually that limitation is lifted as the learner gains more experience as a pilot. In the ATD, you can change angle with a keystroke, so the learner can experience winds variable between a 45- and 90-degree angle to the flight path.

The demonstrated crosswind component of the aircraft, as noted in the POH for the make and model, should be discussed, and then you can have the student attempt to fly it. Then the CFI should increase the winds so they are 10 knots (or more) above the demonstrated crosswind component.

You might even increase them gradually while having the learner fly the pattern at the airport. If the approaches turn into go-arounds, suggest the learner head to the nearest airport with a crosswind runway, computing the time en route and perhaps getting flight following—the CFI plays ATC at this point. It is important to discuss decision-making in this scenario, and sometimes pilots become so fixated on trying to land that they end up fighting the airplane—or, in this case, the sim when the best course of action is to go to another airport with a more suitable runway alignment.

Scenario 5: Practice Navigation

Getting lost is one of the major phobias of many fledgling pilots. Depending on how sophisticated the ATD graphics are, they can be an excellent tool for teaching basic navigation. Start by having the learner use the compass and teaching UNOS (“undershoot north, overshoot south”) and ANDS (“accelerate north, decelerate south”). Once that is grasped, get sneaky and fail the heading indicator.

Next, introduce the VOR. For this, it is beneficial to pause the device and walk through TIMS: tune it in, identify it by the Morse code, monitor it (listen to the code twice), and then finally set it so the needle centers up with a “From” indication. Why “From”? Because that’s how most of us process geographic relationships. If you asked someone about the nautical-mile distance between Oshkosh and Green Bay in Wisconsin, the answer would be “Oshkosh is 37 nautical miles from Green Bay.”

With a few keystrokes, the CFI can reposition the learner. Have them use the VOR to determine what radial they are on, and if the unit has DME, show you where they are on a sectional. For an extra level of challenge, reposition the virtual airplane and have the learner use the VORs to determine where they are using triangulation.

I don’t allow the learners to use the GPS in the airplane until they’ve learned the other means of navigation. I do not want them to become slaves to the magenta line, but that being said, the use of GPS is critical as you want to avoid the random panic pushing of buttons.

You will see this tendency in the ATD as well, but in the sim you can pause the action then discuss what the learner is trying to accomplish and go through the steps to find the menus and pages.

This is a lesson that should not be rushed. Have the learner go through a flight from start-up to shutdown using the GPS. Note the appropriate checklists, check RAIM if doing instrument approaches, note aircraft performance, and build flight plans. The idea is to learn the procedures in the controlled environment of the ATD, so when the learner gets into the faster-paced, less-forgiving aircraft, they will have a better chance of staying ahead of the airplane.

Remind the learners that GPS is much more than the “Direct To” key, because the direct key and the magenta line will put them through a mountainside or airspace requiring a clearance, so they best have their wits about them and maintain situational awareness.

The Ultimate IFR Scenario

Preparing a learner for their instrument check ride is much more than having them fly a particular profile under a view-limiting device. You’re supposed to be trained for the real world, with all the challenges and decisions that come with it. Do this with a scenario—the difference between a scenario and practice is that, when doing a scenario, the pause button is not allowed. You can’t do it in the airplane, so you can’t do it in the ATD.

This throws down a gauntlet of challenge.

The CFI plays ATC during this scenario, giving the learner their clearances and fielding requests, just as ATC does. Keep it realistic.

Do that in the ATD first by having the learner plan a cross-country flight in it and launch in MVFR but on an IFR flight plan. When they are just about at their destination, the airport is closed—maybe there is a disabled aircraft on the runway—what are the pilot’s options? Should they hold? Divert? The CFI should be prepared for anything, including the random instrument failure.

A Word About Emergencies

It’s a good idea to occasionally drop in a few emergencies during practice or scenarios but not to do them every time. That’s not realistic, or if it is, find a different flight school because that one has serious maintenance issues. There are also some emergencies I file under “I Hope You Never Need to Know This.”

The first one is the jammed elevator. Teach the learner to control the aircraft’s pitch attitude using throttle and trim, and to make the mother of all straight-ins. I compare this maneuver to knowing CPR—I hope I never have to use it, but I am glad I know how to do it.

When we practice a loss of engine power and emergency landing in the real world, we’re usually within gliding distance of an airport. We do clearing turns, identify the emergency landing area, then the maneuver commences. If only the real world was that predictable.

It can be very beneficial for the learner if the CFI fails the engine when the learner is not near an airport—where will they go? Into the trees? Are they over a beach? Can they make it to that grass strip the GPS says is 1.5 miles away? This is an exercise in decision-making. It may be a no-win scenario, or they may be that guy that puts it down in the farm field then lives to share the story.

And one more note about pacing: Some ATDs have the option to change the speed of the scenario. You can make it slow to allow the learner more reaction time, or you can speed it up to create a more challenging experience. If the learner is having difficulty staying ahead of the action, slow it down. If they are ready for a challenge, speed it up.

For best results, always use a syllabus and have an objective when you use the ATD. Finally, make sure you brief the lesson, just like you would in the airplane. Discuss how the scenario will be achieved—and let learning take place.

This column first appeared in the March 2024/Issue 946 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post Flight Sims for the Win: It’s All About Repetition and Drill appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

This is a question every pilot needs to ask themself, and frequently. That’s not because the aircraft engine is unreliable—and I have to stress this because there have been learners who panic when a CFI asks this—but because aircraft, unlike cars, don’t have the luxury of simply pulling over when there is an uncommanded loss of engine power. 

I teach my learners to always be looking for emergency landing areas just like you would scope out restrooms in public places when you have small children. Before a possible emergency, you want to know where they are before you need them.

FAA & Emergency Landings 

The FAA doesn’t tell us where to land in an emergency. The closest we get to a regulation on this is FAR 91.13, which states no person may operate an aircraft in a careless or reckless manner so as to endanger the life or property of another, and FAR 91.119, Minimum safe altitudes which states, “except when necessary for takeoff or landing, no person may operate an aircraft below the following altitudes anywhere, allowing if a power unit fails, an emergency landing without undue hazard to persons or property on the surface. Over congested areas of a city, town, or settlements or over any open air assembly of persons, an altitude of 1,000 feet above the highest obstacle within a horizontal radius of 2,000 feet of aircraft, over other than congested areas an altitude of 500 feet above the surface, except over open water or sparsely populated areas, in those cases the aircraft may not be operated close than 500 feet to any person, vessel, vehicle, or structure.”

If you lose engine power during the flight, breaking a FAR is likely the least of your worries. Besides, the FAA allows pilots to deviate from the FARs to meet the nature of the emergency.

Space Needed

When you begin your flying career, ask your instructor to point out the potential emergency landing spots as you fly to and from the practice area, as well as the places within it. This is important, because at first you don’t have a frame of reference of how much space an airplane needs to come to a stop and what constitutes a good emergency landing field. 

I utilize three practice areas. The learner’s first lesson includes overflying them, and before every maneuver, we identify one we will use if the engine quits.

This activity provides an introduction to learning to read the VFR sectional, as the learners are taught to look for all runways, paved and other than hard surfaced. The ones designated with a magenta circle with an “R” in the center can be confusing at first. Contrary to many a learner’s first guess, this is not the symbol for a “restricted” runway, it’s a privately owned one. I tell my learners to recall it with the phrase “rich dude (that’s the “R”) has a private runway”.

Agricultural fields are often the second-best choice if you don’t have an actual runway within gliding distance, depending on the crop. Avoid anything with vines, such as beans and tomatoes, and pumpkin patches as those are basically growing boulders. 

Also, be aware that agricultural fields are often surrounded by irrigation ditches, and some of them are several feet deep and indiscernible until you’re too low to avoid them. Wire fences around the crops can also be invisible until you’re almost on top of them. 

Dry lake beds can be an option if in an arid part of the country,  provided there are no chuckholes or large rocks. 

Empty parking lots are also an option. By empty I mean the ones without cars and without light stands. You often find them off the extended centerlines of runways or next to the runway because the light stands may interfere with the glideslope of the ILS. 

Learn Your Area’s Topography 

In the Pacific Northwest we have clear-cuts that look empty from altitude, but when you get down to ground level, you see the tree stumps are several feet high. During a training flight an instructor pointed out the logging access road that ran parallel to the clear-cut and suggested that, if we had to, we would put down on the road aiming for the straightaway. There were trees on either side of the road, we noted, which looked to be at least 20- 30 feet high. Our wingspan was approximately 38 feet. If the road was 40 feet wide, we’d barely make it. Or else the trees would act as arresting cables and jerk us to a halt. We never had to test this, but when I fly over mountains to this day I look for those open areas and roads next to them. 

When flying to eastern Washington, I follow the route over the freeway that has the unpaved runways adjacent to it. These runways were built in the 1930s by the Works Progress Administration to be used as emergency landing strips for the DC-3s that crossed the mountains.

• READ MORE: Flying with an Athletic Mindset

Landing on the beach is also an option if you are over the Puget Sound and within gliding distance to shore. Most of the beaches are made of gravel, but if you do encounter sand, aim for the dark (wet) sand as it is more firm than the dry and will likely put the aircraft on its back. Stay away from the heavily populated beaches, or do your best to put it down in shallow water offshore away from people. You may flip the aircraft, but it’s better than taking out a civilian.

Athletic Fields

If you’re a pilot and you spend a lot of time on municipal athletic fields used by high school and college teams, you may find yourself scoping them out as potential emergency landing sites. I know I have. I often wonder if someone had to, could they put a small aircraft, such as a Cessna 172 or Piper Cherokee, down on the pitch?

There are a few parks where my field hockey team plays that are below the VFR arrival and departures path for King County International Airport-Boeing Field (KBFI) and Renton Municipal Airport (KRNT). The aircraft are supposed to be at 1,200 feet in order to stay away from the big iron in the Class B airspace above them. I have flown these routes many, many times. A few times, during play, my teammates have called my attention to the aircraft, asking if they are in trouble or buzzing us? I assure them neither is the case.

Every now and then we learn about aircraft that make emergency landings on golf courses. Making a safe landing on a golf course without engine power takes a great deal of skill and, frankly, luck as such terrain is often sloped or wildly uneven. Most pilots file these emergency landing areas under “better than hitting a house or building.”

Stay Off The Road

One of the first things pilots learn is that roads are not the place to put it down because of power and telephone lines that you often can’t see until it is too late—not to mention street signs, parked cars, and moving traffic. These are areas of last resort. Sometimes the pilot gets the airplane down just fine, then a car pulls in front of them because the driver doesn’t understand the airplane is having an emergency, or they simply don’t see it. 

Invariably, when this topic is discussed in ground school, someone will mention the legends surrounding the Autobahn in Germany, designed with 1-mile straightways every 5 so they could be used as runways. This allegedly stems from Dwight Eisenhower, who while serving as supreme commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force in Europe during World War II, was impressed by the highway system in Germany. When he became U.S. president, he wanted to do something similar with America’s road network, which resulted in the formation of the Interstate Highway System in 1956.

I admit when I am driving on a flat, four-lane road someplace, I do think about its use as an emergency landing strip.

The post Always Look for a Place to Land appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Nick Sinopoli, the inventor of the ICARUS Device, a high-tech view limiting device, knew this only too well after losing a friend in an aviation accident in 2016.

ICARUS was introduced to the training environment three years ago and is now used around the world by both the military and private sector.

The company recently delivered an ICARUS Device to Helicopter Resources, a company that provides services to government organizations in Antarctica. The area is about 40 percent larger than Europe and about as remote as can be imagined. There are no roads, so helicopters are crucial to bringing in provisions for the 5,000 who live there as part of various research operations.

• READ MORE: ICARUS Device Enhances IFR Training

About the Device

The name ICARUS is an acronym, standing for Instrument Conditions Awareness Recognition and Understanding System. Sinopoli, who is rated in both helicopters and airplanes and holds an engineering degree from Purdue University, designed the device so that visibility is gradually reduced. It almost sneaks up on a pilot, just as it often happens in the real world and sometimes leads to accidents when the pilot loses situational awareness, especially in marginal VFR.

How It Works

According to Sinopoli, the ICARUS Device is made of a polymer dispersed liquid crystal (PDLC) film that the pilot wears in front of their eyes, either clamped onto a hat or headset or clipped into a flight helmet. 

The PDLC is battery powered, and the device is paired with an app controlled by the flight instructor. The instructor can degrade the visual conditions gradually, allowing the client to experience the sensation of a sudden loss of outside visual cues while flying in the actual aircraft. 

There is also the option for the CFII to press a button to bring on clouds. The rate and amount of occlusion can also be adjusted by the instructor for a more realistic IFR experience, such as the sudden loss of outside references when marginal VFR turns into IFR.

According to the company, there are 500 ICARUS devices in use around the world in every kind of aircraft from a Cessna 172 to a CH-47 Chinook Helicopter.

The device sells for $1,250 and comes with a three-year warranty.

The post ICARUS IFR Training Device Delivered to Antarctica appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

As you will have guessed, since you are reading about this in Aftermath and not in I Learned About Flying From That, the flight did not end well. About 25 minutes after takeoff and shortly after crossing the Arkansas border, the 31-year-old pilot, whose in-command time amounted to 75 hours, lost control of the airplane and went down in a remote woodland. All aboard perished.

A few minutes before the impact, as he was climbing to 9,500 feet msl, the pilot contacted ATC and requested flight following. The weather along his route—which, notably, he had last checked with ForeFlight 17 hours earlier—was generally VFR, with a chance of scattered convective activity. There was, however, one patch of rainy weather just to the left of his course, and the controller advised him to turn right to avoid it.

On the controller’s display, the target of the Cirrus crept eastward just below the edge of the weather. Radar paints rain, however, not cloud. The flight was over a remote area with few ground lights and the harvest moon had not yet risen, but its hidden glow may have faintly defined an eastern horizon. In the inspissated blackness of the night, the pilot, whose instrument experience was limited to what little was required for the private certificate, probably could not tell clear air from cloud.

As the Cirrus reached 9,500 feet, it began to turn to the left toward the area of weather. Perhaps the tasks of trimming and setting the mixture for cruise distracted the pilot from his heading. The controller noticed the change and pointed it out to the pilot, who replied he intended to return to Muskogee. He now began a turn to the right. Rather than reverse course, however, he continued the turn until he was heading northward back into the weather. The controller, who by now sensed trouble, said to the pilot that he showed him on a heading of 340 degrees and asked whether he concurred. The pilot, whose voice until this point had betrayed no sense of unease, replied somewhat incoherently that “the wind caught me, [but now] I’m out of it.”

With a tone of increasing urgency, the controller instructed the pilot to turn left to a heading of 270. The pilot acknowledged the instruction, but he did not comply. Instead, he continued turning to the right. At the same time, he was descending at an increasing rate and was now at 6,000 feet. “I show you losing serious altitude,” the controller said. “Level your wings if able and fly directly southbound…Add power if you can.”

It was already too late. In a turning dive, its speed increasing past 220 knots, the Cirrus continued downward. Moments later, its radar target disappeared.

In its discussion of the accident, the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) focused upon the pilot’s preparedness—in the broadest sense—for the flight. A former Marine, he should have been semper paratus—always ready—but his history suggested a headstrong personality with a certain tendency to ignore loose ends as he plunged ahead.

He had failed his first private pilot test on questions related to airplane systems; he passed on a retest the following week. But this little glitch tells us nothing about his airmanship. His instructor reported he responded calmly and reasonably to turbulence, and was “good” at simulated instrument flight. He had enrolled in Cirrus Embark transition training shortly before acquiring the airplane. He completed all of the flight training lessons, but—again, a hint of impatience with tiresome minutiae—may not have completed the online self-study lessons. The flight training was strictly VFR and did not include night or instrument components.

The airplane was extremely well equipped for instrument flying, but it was a 2001 model, and its avionics were, according to the Cirrus Embark instructors, “old technology” and “not easy to use.” In other words, it did not have a glass panel, and its classical instruments, which included a flight director, were sophisticated and possibly confusing to a novice. The airplane was equipped with an autopilot, and the pilot had been trained in at least the elements of its use.

The airplane was also equipped with an airframe parachute, but it was not deployed during the loss of control. In any case, its use is limited to indicated speeds below 133 kias, and it might not have functioned properly in a spiral dive.

• READ MORE: Dissecting a Tragedy in the Third Dimension

An instructor familiar with the pilot and his airplane—whether this was the same instructor as the one whom he called on the night of the fatal flight is not clear—wrote to the NTSB that the pilot had made the night flight to South Carolina at least once before, and he had called her at midnight before departing to come help him fix a flat tire. She declined and urged him to get some sleep and make the trip in the morning.

“I told him he was starting down the ‘accident chain,’” she wrote. “New pilot, new plane, late start, nighttime, bad terrain, etc….To me, he seemed a little overly self-confident in his piloting skills, but he didn’t know enough to know what he didn’t know.”

He fixed the tire himself and made the trip safely that night. Undoubtedly, that success encouraged him to go again.

We have seen over and over how capable pilots, including ones with much more experience than this pilot, fail to perform at their usual level when they encounter weather emergencies. A sudden, unexpected plunge into IMC—which, on a dark night, can happen very easily—opens the door to a Pandora’s box of fear, confusion, and disorientation for which training cannot prepare you.

There are two clear avenues of escape. One is the autopilot. Switch it on, take your hands off the controls, breathe, and count to 20. The fact the pilot did not take this step suggests how paralyzed his mental faculties may have become.

The other is the attitude indicator. It’s a simple mechanical game. Put the toy airplane on the horizon line and align the wings with it. That’s all. It’s so simple. Yet in a crisis, apparently, it’s terribly hard to do. The fact that so many pilots have lost control of their airplanes in IMC should be a warning to every noninstrument-rated pilot to treat clouds—and, above all, clouds in darkness—with extreme respect.

This column first appeared in the November 2023/Issue 943 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post A Night Flight Leads a Pilot to a Tragic End appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

But from time to time, I’m welcomed by profoundly good luck. On rare occasions, days off align with fantastic weather, a usable runway, and a properly functioning, squawk-free airplane. On these occasions, I approach my flying with a healthy dose of suspicion and brace myself for the worst, but I make sure to appreciate the good fortune.

Last week, one such day presented itself. After a solid month of fog, low ceilings, and generally dreary weather, the sun reintroduced itself to the upper Midwest, and the people rejoiced. Waving hello to all the other happy citizens of my small town as Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah played loudly in my head, I made my way to the small, private airport I call home. While no bluebirds landed on my shoulder, a lone cow regarded me as I passed a nearby farm, and I figured that, given my location in the Wisconsin countryside, that would suffice as a stand-in.

Winds were light and out of the east, neatly aligning themselves to two of my favorite grass strips in the area. While a wispy cloud layer was visible above, low ceilings would not be a factor. And it was even pleasantly warm, setting me up for a relatively pain-free preflight inspection.

Upon arriving at the airport, I saw that the typical poor snow removal did present a few challenges. A couple of Volkswagen-sized dirt mounds littered the east end, and only a narrow strip of the western third had been plowed. Fortunately, I was confident I could successfully negotiate these issues and proceeded with my preflight. 

The preflight was successful in more than one way. I found no mechanical concerns to speak of, and my new technique of packing out any food (namely energy bars) out of the cabin had apparently alleviated the mouse problem I had encountered the previous month. Happily noting that the engine oil level had stabilized perfectly over the preceding eight flight hours, I pronounced the airplane fit to fly.

• READ MORE: Managing the Doldrums of Winter

The engine start and run-up were uneventful, and it was warm enough that I kept the window open for the sheer novelty of doing so in February. I dutifully made my calls on the CTAF as I backtaxied, but the airport and airspace above remained completely serene. Not one airplane was visible, even via ADS-B on my newly overhauled panel. 

While the sun gave the impression of warmth, the air was still crisp and thick, providing a bit more thrust than I’m accustomed to in the summer. Observing the engine stabilize at 2430 rpm early in the takeoff roll, I smiled as my 80/42 seaplane propeller clawed its way through the air and pulled me aloft in less than 400 feet. A quick turn southbound placed me on course for Brodhead, a favorite little airport of mine with three grass runways and a vibrant antique aircraft community.

A mottled landscape of brown and white unfolded beneath me, the remnants of our early January snowstorm receding into the lush soil. Because the state of Wisconsin is unable or unwilling to assign more than a few CTAFs to its airports statewide, a massive variety of unseen voices emerges from my headset. In a 20-mile radius, roughly 11 airports share 122.9, and we step on each other more often than kids forced to learn square dancing in gym class. 

Frustrating as it can be, this comes with a side benefit. As I depart my home field and visit the two other airports on my agenda, I can simply leave my radio tuned to the single frequency the entire time. Because we’re friendly people in the Great Lakes region, position reports are sprinkled with jaunty hellos and inquiries about the day’s plans. This creates additional congestion, sure, but so long as the niceties are kept brief, none of us complain. 

Before long, I entered the pattern at Brodhead. Keeping an eye out for the many radioless antique planes that call the airport home, I ensure every LED light is powered up and continue to dutifully make my position reports. Surprisingly, no other traffic is present, and as tends to be the case when no witnesses are around, I manage to nail each wheel landing, rolling my big Bushwheels onto the grass so lightly I could barely tell when they spun up. 

With the rust of a nonflying January sufficiently cleared off, I departed the pattern and made my way up to Albany, Wisconsin. Relatively short for the area at 1,700 feet, I enjoy challenging myself to take off and land within the first 500 feet of Runway 9— a distance clearly identifiable by the perpendicular perimeter of a neighboring cornfield. As I approached the field, I reminded myself how transients sometimes mix up the name Albany with a nearby town called Albion and listened for both names on the still-busy frequency.

While the continued lack of other traffic and witnesses promised another series of excellent landings, the light breeze decided I could use a bit of a challenge. It shifted around to the north and spilled over an adjacent tree line, randomly changing direction as it saw fit. Riding the swirls and eddies down final, I refocused and had fun trying to predict and anticipate this new variable. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t, but while my landings were no longer things of beauty, I enjoyed the atmospheric lesson immensely.

Thoroughly limbered up after a good number of landings and short approaches, I headed back home and was welcomed with the aforementioned narrow strip of runway, bordered by the remnants of lazy snow plowing. It took little effort to properly align myself and set down on centerline, but I was then caught off guard by an errant puff of wind that launched me back up into the air like a hot-air balloon. Carefully maintaining a slightly nose-up deck angle and avoiding a pilot-induced oscillation, a quick shot of power cushioned my return to earth and I settled back down in an ugly yet safe fashion. 

A quick glance to the left revealed the reason for the bobbled landing—another airport tenant was standing nearby, recording me with his cellphone. Where were the cameras down at Brodhead? But my indignation soon subsided to thankfulness as the reality of a perfect day of flying settled in. Days like this don’t occur often enough. So we must soak them up and savor them when they do.

The post A Perfect Day for Flying appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Apparently as a veteran airline pilot, I am a magnet for such exchanges because folks consider the profession an authority on all things aviation. In reality, no pilot is a complete authority, especially me. Maybe some of us just appear to have more credibility than others. It’s been many years since I’ve focused on the opportunity to share the flying experience—one of them being the iconic $100 hamburger, which we all know has probably doubled in price. Most nonpilots are familiar with the concept but have never really experienced it.

So, over my recent retirement years, with the intention of providing insight to my passion, I’ve invited a handful of friends on separate flights to various airport dining destinations. Unexpectedly, the flights have been a learning experience for me as well.

My friend Jack has an engineering background, with the Hubble Space Telescope having been a part of his repertoire. In earlier days, he and his son (now the chief engineer with a major international auto racing organization), invested time and money into amateur racing. He has an above-average understanding of the intricacies involved with reciprocating engines, including almost anything else that can be defined on a spreadsheet.

Having a naturally inquisitive nature, Jack asked intimate questions about airplane performance and operations, and ATC procedures. Our trip down Florida’s east coast through Daytona Beach airspace to New Smyrna Beach (KEVB) for lunch was all of 25 minutes. If I wasn’t responding to a controller, I was answering a question.

I had briefed Jack on the moderate crosswind and potential gusts we would most likely encounter. After applying a noticeable crab angle, the airplane began to buffet in a sea of choppy air. In monotone, I uttered, “Yippee-ki-yay” on short final. A Google search claims that the phrase is of Native American origin, meaning, “This is a good day to die.” It’s been one of my catch phrases for such circumstances over many years of flying. Perhaps I should keep it to myself. Jack remained uncharacteristically silent while I wrestled with the control yoke.

Elated by the entire experience, in addition to his meal, Jack expressed his gratitude. He painted a positive picture of the day to his wife, Kathy, but employed poetic license in describing the “hurricane force” winds that challenged my landing. He claimed it had been my intent to subject him to those conditions. Apparently, it was all forgotten when Kathy herself agreed to a lunch flight, which was flown on a spectacular VFR day without a bump.

Having not so subtly hinted at his desire for a ride, I next invited Ira to lunch. Ira is a colorful character. His background could fill the pages of this magazine. Suffice it to say his intelligence is only surpassed by his wandering attention. He has no patience for you to complete the answer to his question because he’s already armed with the next one.

Oftentimes, Ira is already discussing a new topic within the same sentence. He is a human sponge of information gathering. Beyond Ira’s full-throttle energy level, one of his best attributes is the benevolence of his time for family and friends. Translation: He’s got a big heart.

Needless to say, my takeoff briefing with Ira was slightly more thorough. I placed special emphasis on the need to remain silent when the aircraft call sign was spoken on the radio. Predictably, a raised index finger was the best solution for intercom silence…which wasn’t always successful.

Having spent a career dealing with the distractions of checklists, warning lights, computer entries, navigation, flight attendant interaction, weather deviations, and flying the airplane, I felt up to the task. With Albert Whitted Airport (KSPG) in St. Petersburg as the lunch destination, we would be transiting Orlando and Tampa Class B airspace, which always compels me to file IFR. I’d rather be directed around departure or arrival traffic than risk my analysis of VFR courses and altitudes that might get me in trouble if not cleared to enter Class B airspace, notwithstanding better traffic separation in a very busy area.

From the moment I started the airplane, Ira peppered me with questions. All of his inquiries were intelligent, involving subject matters that were topics my human database had long ago assimilated and now took for granted. His curiosity was insatiable. His questions ranged from, “Do we have to follow ATC instructions?” to “Why are we at this altitude?” and everything in between.

As anticipated for our return home, we began to encounter typical Florida afternoon weather. The ingredients for convection were at the early stages of transforming cumulus into cumulonimbus. Ira asked why we were zigging and zagging. Grinning, I told him that I was saving him the embarrassment of having to scream. He got the message when ATC assigned a mandatory heading that afforded us the opportunity to sample the inside of a cumulus cloud.

Ira had a preconceived notion that pilot tasks were simply to raise the nose off the runway, fly to cruise flight, and then land the airplane. He was astounded how much is really involved.

• READ MORE: Food for Flight Is the Way to Go

Ken was a former B-52 crew chief during the Vietnam era. Among the many hats he has worn was chairman of our city commission. He now focuses on being a feared hunter of fish. Ken enjoys the serenity of watching the scenery pass beneath the wings without uttering a word.

I’ve had the pleasure of Ken’s company at a Mecum car show auction in Kissimmee (KISM), a trip to Arcadia (X06) for “touch-and-go Tuesdays,” a low approach over the space shuttle landing strip that included a breakfast at Vero Beach (KVRB), and an early breakfast at Albert Whitted. A touchdown on Arcadia’s grass runway because of a repaving project on the main runway was one of Ken’s highlights, having never experienced such an operation.

The Albert Whitted arrival included a flat tire on rollout, an event we could have both done without. Following the efforts of an efficient and friendly maintenance shop, breakfast was not jeopardized. We were able to watch the pit stop tire tube change from the outside balcony of the restaurant.

What did I learn on these excursions? Judging by my friends’ continued jubilant accounts of their trips, just one flight can have a lasting impact on someone’s life experience. It was rewarding to be reminded of this again.

Can you actually fly to lunch? Yes, but it’s an even better experience with nonpilot friends.

This column first appeared in the October 2023/Issue 942 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post So, You Can Actually Fly to Lunch? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Logging time in actual conditions isn’t a requirement for the certificate. Nowhere in FAR 61.65 does it say that the applicant is required to register time in real instrument meteorological conditions—it can be either IMC or simulated IFR under a view-limiting device—but I wanted the experience of actual IFR without a view-limiting device. Most people don’t fly that way, except within the training environment.

For this reason, you may want to invest in a view-limiting device that is easy on, easy off—the type that flips up to allow you to see outside as well as the panel without removing your headset are best.

The Disorientation Factor

The first time you fly into a cloud, there is a bump— you are going from an area of relatively warmer air into cooler air. It sort of feels like tripping when going up a flight of stairs. Then the cockpit gets darker, and the horizon disappears.

Focus on shifting your gaze—not turning your head from outside to inside—and focus on the flight instruments. Aircraft loss of control often happens in those first few seconds when outside visual references are stripped away, and the pilot falls prey to spatial disorientation and inflight illusions.

Inflight Illusions

The Pilot’s Handbook of Aeronautical Knowledge has details on these illusions. Some may overlap or feel similar—all can lead to serious spatial disorientation.

The leans—the most common illusion during flight— is caused by a sudden return to level flight following a gradual and prolonged turn. Leveling the wings can create an illusion that the aircraft is banking in the opposite direction than the original turn. The pilot tries to correct for this by leaning in the direction of the original turn. You may have to remind yourself to sit up straight.

The somatogravic illusion happens during rapid acceleration, such as during takeoff, where the disoriented pilot thinks the airplane is in a nose-up attitude and pushes the airplane into a dive, or pulls back on the throttle to stop the acceleration. Don’t do this.

The Coriolis illusion occurs when the pilot has been in a turn long enough for the fluid in the ear canal to move. When the turn is stopped, the fluid continues to move, creating the illusion of turning or accelerating on a different axis. Trying to correct this illusion, the pilot may apply a correction that is the opposite of what should be done. For example, the airplane is in straight and level flight, but the pilot thinks it is in a banked turn and when they ‘straighten the airplane out,’ they put it into a bank. The Coriolis illusion may happen when the pilot reaches down in the cockpit for a dropped item.

The graveyard spiral happens when the pilot is flying in a prolonged, coordinated, constant-rate turn and begins to feel that the aircraft has stopped turning. When the pilot stops the turn, there is a sensation that the airplane is turning in the opposite direction.

The inversion illusion begins during an abrupt change from climb to straight-and-level flight, which can create the sensation of tumbling backwards, causing the pilot to push the nose of the aircraft down.

The elevator illusion happens during abrupt vertical acceleration, such as when the aircraft encounters an updraft, creating the illusion the aircraft is in a climb. The pilot may push the nose down.

As the PHAK notes, “A pilot can reduce susceptibility to disorienting illusions through training and awareness and learning to rely totally on flight instruments.” In short, learn to read those instruments, know what they are telling you, and act accordingly.

Learning how to properly scan and interpret the instruments is a skill. To be able to do it without the benefit of a view-limiting device is a discipline. Practice this by getting a CFII, opening an IFR flight plan, and going in and out of the clouds sans the view-limiting device. It will be disorienting (at first), but it will do wonders for your confidence.

One of the maneuvers to practice in the clouds is the 180-degree turn. At the appropriate altitude, trim the airplane for level flight, then—using your feet only—make a left turn (obstacle permitting) at half standard rate using rudder only. Begin by noting the aircraft’s heading, then start the turn. Focus on maintaining half standard rate all the way around. The turn will happen faster at full standard rate, but it can also lead to over-controlling as the bank angle increases, then there is a loss of lift, and the aircraft begins an uncom- manded descent.

The Challenge for CFIs/CFIIs

Although possessing an instrument rating is a requirement to be a flight instructor under FAA regs, some CFIs have logged very little actual instrument time. This is particularly true if they were trained in accelerated programs geared toward taking several check rides in a short time—or they fly in an area where actual IMC is a rarity.

The first time they take a learner into the clouds, it can be a wake-up call for the instructor to be in the right seat, sans view limiting device, focusing on the instruments and the learner at the same time. Also, CFIs may find it challenging to maintain their IFR proficiency because most of their flying is done with learners in VFR conditions.

Some schools recognize this and do not charge their CFIs for the rental for currency and proficiency.

It is often said that the instrument rating is the most challenging to get but also the most useful. Make the most of yours.

This column originally appeared in the May 2023 Issue 937 print edition of FLYING.

The post When VFR Turns Into IFR appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

• READ MORE: Why Do Pilots Use Checklists?

Answer: The real question here is: Are conditions VFR, MVFR, or IFR because of the smoke? If the conditions are IFR, and you do not have an instrument rating and are not flying on an IFR flight plan, what the heck would you be doing up there? I say this in jest, but that’s the first metric to assess.

Smoke falls under the category of “Adverse Conditions.” Per Chapter 7 of the Aeronautical Information Manual, “pilots should be especially alert for current or forecast weather that could reduce flight minimums below VFR or IFR conditions,” meaning reduced visibility. Smoke will definitely do that.

• READ MORE: Am I Required to Call Flight Service to Get a Briefing Before I Depart?

Chapter 7 gives the metrics for Low IFR, IFR, Marginal VFR, and VFR with reference to ceilings and visibility, and notes in the example that ceiling and visibility can be restricted by haze and smoke. If the ceiling and visibility are below VFR, MVFR, or below the limitations your CFI has put in your logbook for solo flight, you’d best stay on the ground.

Smoke from fires can take you by surprise. When you get your weather briefing, note where the fires are and which way the winds are blowing. And always be prepared to divert to an alternate airport.

• READ MORE: Who Is PIC When 2 Certificated Pilots Fly Together?

Do you have a question about aviation that’s been bugging you? Ask us anything you’ve ever wanted to know about aviation. Our experts in general aviation, flight training, aircraft, avionics, and more may attempt to answer your question in a future article.

The post Can I Fly VFR in Smoke? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

After months of anticipation, the agency on Tuesday released its first implementation plan for advanced air mobility (AAM) aircraft such as eVTOL air taxis. Dubbed “Innovate28,” the living document, which will be updated periodically, is designed to enable AAM operations at scale in time for the 2028 Olympic Games in Los Angeles, when several air taxi firms are expected to take to the skies.

Its publication follows the release of the FAA’s air taxi blueprint and a proposed rule for AAM pilot certification and training.

Innovate28 is focused solely on near-term operations through 2028. It defines AAM as “a transportation system that moves people and property by air between two points in the U.S. using aircraft with advanced technologies, including electric aircraft or eVTOL aircraft, in both controlled and uncontrolled airspace.”

The plan lists the various stakeholders expected to contribute to AAM implementation, including the FAA, NASA, Department of Homeland Security, Department of Energy, Air Force, and other federal agencies and departments. AAM and power industry stakeholders and state, local, and tribal communities will have roles as well.

A core tenet of the plan is a “crawl-walk-run” approach, which will rely on existing infrastructure, regulations, and procedures to support earlier entry into service. It entails sequential steps the FAA and its partners will follow to certify aircraft and their operators, train pilots, manage airspace, develop new infrastructure, and more.

By 2028, the FAA hopes to see AAM operations at scale spanning multiple “key sites”—which, according to Innovate28, will mainly include existing airports and heliports.

“This plan shows how all the pieces will come together allowing the industry to scale, with safety as the North Star,” said Katie Thomson, deputy FAA administrator.

The 40-page document contains a mountain of proposals to sift through. But here are some of the key points:

Certification

Since AAM aircraft such as air taxis have yet to receive certification or begin commercial operations, the bulk of the FAA’s plan centers around what those processes may look like.

AAM aircraft will be certified under the agency’s special class category as was previously announced in 2022. But certification bases will also draw upon performance-driven regulations under Part 23. The process will take environmental factors like noise into account and allow the FAA to approve unique design features without a special condition or exemption, as would be required in the standard category.

The FAA has also proposed that AAM aircraft manufacturers be required to develop and implement safety management systems, organization-wide policies for managing safety and risk, as part of the process.

Currently, the agency’s Aircraft Certification Service (AIR) is working toward certification with more than two dozen AAM manufacturers, such as Joby and Archer Aviation. About half of them have progressed far enough to manufacture flying prototypes. 

AIR is also looking to establish certification pathways for AAM-specific technologies, including electric propulsion, lithium-ion battery systems, hydrogen fuel cells, automation, and VTOL capabilities for winged aircraft.

Companies operating AAM aircraft will need to be certified as Part 135 air carriers, as eVTOL and air taxis are expected to operate under those rules. For prospective pilots, the FAA is drawing up a new certification and training regimen that should be finalized in the coming months.

Operations

Now let’s dive into operations. At least through 2028, AAM aircraft will fly on predetermined routes and schedules, with pilots on board. They’ll be able to travel between certain sites—such as from Vertiport Chicago to O’Hare International Airport (KORD)—but flights will be heavily limited to dedicated corridors and flyways.

In urban and metropolitan areas, where the bulk of air taxi operations are expected to take place, aircraft will fly no higher than 4,000 feet. Within controlled Class B and C airspace, they’ll be required to use existing or modified low-altitude VFR corridors when possible. And to enter airspace around airports, they’ll need clearance from air traffic control.

“It is likely these aircraft will be treated as any other fixed wing/rotorcraft operating under VFR conditions, to the extent they are able to comply with existing rules, regulations, and procedures,” the document reads.

The FAA is currently engaged in further rulemaking for AAM operations that will codify the aforementioned proposals. But in the interim it expects to rely on waivers and exemptions to get eVTOL and air taxis off the ground before 2028.

Infrastructure

As mentioned above, the FAA wants to maximize the use of existing aviation infrastructure in the near term until dedicated vertiports and urban traffic management services come online.

According to Innovate28, initial operations will take place largely at existing heliports, commercial service airports, and general aviation airports. However, operators, manufacturers, state, local, and tribal governments, and other non-FAA stakeholders will be responsible for planning, developing, and maintaining AAM infrastructure at existing airfields.

That means, for example, that partners Archer and United Airlines may need to install vertiport terminals, charging stations, parking zones, or taxiing areas at O’Hare themselves in order to launch their planned air taxi route in Chicago—the FAA won’t help them.

According to the FAA, electrical power grids may also require upgrades to accommodate the influx of electric AAM aircraft. It has an interagency agreement with the Department of Energy’s National Renewable Energy Lab to study how aircraft electrification will affect airport, heliport, and vertiport power grids. But don’t be surprised if the grid creates problems for AAM early on.

Other Details

The bulk of Innovate28 focuses on certification, operations, and infrastructure. But the document also touches on a few other key areas.

One is assessing the environmental impacts of AAM aircraft. Though the FAA faces a lawsuit from five environmental groups over its handling of April’s SpaceX Starship launch, the agency appears dedicated to sustainable eVTOL flight. It says it will consider environmental impacts such as noise, air quality, visual disturbances, and disruptions to wildlife when certifying new AAM aircraft. 

But it still needs to identify which actions besides certification—such as the establishment of air taxi routes—will trigger compliance with the National Environmental Policy Act.

Community engagement appears to be another key emphasis of Innovate28. Per the plan, the FAA will work with airports and state, local, and tribal communities to better understand their concerns about AAM operations, such as some of the aforementioned environmental impacts. It notes that other stakeholders, including AAM, airport, and vertiport operators, will play an important role in working with local communities.

Security is the final area the plan (briefly) touches on. The Department of Homeland Security “will determine what type of security is necessary,” the document notes. The FAA and Transportation Security Administration, meanwhile, will evaluate the expansion of cybersecurity requirements due to the influx of new technology.

Innovate28 is jam-packed with other proposals. But the gist is that the plan should help eVTOL companies chart a path to certification and operations, transform a handful of airfields into AAM hubs, and bring together stakeholders across the industry to address and alleviate concerns.

There’s still a lot that needs to happen before air taxis fly at the 2028 Olympic Games. But the publication of an initial implementation plan is a huge step, and it should guide the AAM industry for years to come.

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