Page 14 - Volume 18 Number 9

Staying HuYou might think that having been flying airplanes for about half the existence of heavier-than-air flight would give one some bragging rights. And you would be wrong. Over the years, I’ve learned that participation in aviation is a constantly-evolving field of endeavor, and just about the time you’ve seen it all, and know it all, you become re-apprised of just how little you do know. Being humbled is, after all, one method by which we remain trainable.By the same token, every pilot I fly with, several dozen each year, has something to teach me. You should remain humble enough to accept nuggets of wisdom, or, conversely, stay ready to spot deviate tendencies that you wish to excise from your own flying. I have learned that there’s more than one way to fly an airplane – and most all of them are right. However, procedures were put in place for valid reasons. Being humble means that we feel free to accept input, but will stick to what we know until we’re sure a better method works. I’m still learning about this business.Airplanes can teach us a lot – if we listen to them. An aircraft speaks to its pilot in multiple ways, not the least of which is a feeling that all is not well. By this I mean, an experienced pilot can expect certain sounds, vibrations and rates of acceleration from an aircraft in which connective hours have been spent. My first instructor taught me to “feel the airplane”, through my fingertips, the balls of my feet and, yes, the seat of my pants. To ignore what the plane is saying is asking for a lesson in humiliation.I often get asked why I prefer to hand-fly the airplane below 10,000 feet. I could say “the autopilot doesn’t need the practice”, acknowledging that I obviously could benefit from it. But the real reason I hand-fly when I can is so that I can stay in tune with the aircraft. I obtain feedback from the controls and, if I’m sufficiently experienced with the airplane, I can pick up signs of abnormal behavior.What Is It Saying?A good friend of mine rode through a horrendous takeoff accident in a heavily-laden bomber, which suffered the misfortunate of a monsoon-caused windshift during the roll. In these aircraft, a certain target airspeed must be attained upon passing each designated spot along the runway, a speed-required technique that generally predicts when it’s safe to continue or, in the absence of predicted acceleration, one must reject the takeoff. But,12 • TWIN & TURBINEby LeRoy Cookafter using up half the distance, the pilot could feel a slowing of acceleration after the quartering headwind suddenly became a following beam wind, and, knowing that it would be impossible to stop in the distance remaining, he elected to rotate early. Unfortunately, treetops interfered with the plan; fortunately, everyone survived. The aircraft spoke truly when it told him it was sick.I’ve ridden with many pilots who operate obliviously to the aircraft’s stated wishes. Do not think that this is because he or she has acquired little time in the aircraft. Most likely, this blasé approach is fostered by familiarity; after one has settled in the left seat for many repetitions, the acts of throwing the switches, winding up the engines and clicking on the electronics become second nature. Things always work, just as they’ve always done, so who needs a checklist?But then, there comes the time when something doesn’t follow the norm. At that point, you’ll wish you had paid more attention earlier to the signs of changing performance. For instance, as a battery ages, it loses its cranking power in the cold and will eventually refuse to start the aircraft. You’re going nowhere that day; you knew winter was coming, but you expected an elderly battery to continue without service or replacement. Other systems may give you advance warning if you pay attention; woe to you if you don’t notice early signs of failure until the HSI refuses to hold a heading, or you wait until a door seal springs a pressurization leak, after a hiss had announced an outflow of air for weeks.What Did I Forget?I get humbled several times a year. Sometimes it’s nothing more than having to exit the aircraft to kick a chock out from in front of the nosewheel when the marshaling crew is absent, all the while complaining “Who put that there?” At other times, I have had to reschedule a whole day’s appointments when the trip didn’t go, because a checklist item refused to cooperate. My only recourse was to tell the passengers “We need to put it back in the hangar, it’s too broken to fly.” If I had been paying attention earlier, I might have avoided those incidents. By humbling me, my aircraft, or the system in which operates, keeps me from thinking I’ve got all the answers. “Observe, and learn, Grasshopper”, says the airplane.Even a perfect airplane can’t overcome a flawed environment; I arrived overhead at a routine stop recently, noting a fresh set of displaced-thresholdSEPTEMBER 2014