I’ve been scheduled for $100 hamburger flights the last two weekends and had MVFR-IFR weather ground me both times. Welcome to autumn in Chicago.
On my last pass through Midway Aviators, I picked up an IFR chart and terminal area procedures for Chicago. I find that the aviation material makes more sense to me when I have familiar materials to reference. This weather has inspired me to start on the Jeppesen Instrument and Commercial book.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Thoughts About Practicing Engine Failure On Take-Off
Colin posted a comment to my last entry citing an NTSB report wherein a CFI and a pilot under instruction performed a simulated engine failure at 700 AGL on take-off in a Cirrus SR20, stalled, spun, and died. Such reports call into question the wisdom of practicing engine failures on take-off. Colin asserts that engine-out take-offs should be practiced at safe altitudes to reduce the risk.
I respect Colin’s opinion on matters of piloting, so I gave his comments long and serious consideration. After that consideration, I must respectfully disagree with Colin on this matter. Praticing engine-out situations after real take-offs isn’t inherently more dangerous than practicing any other engine-out situation in the pattern. Every student pilot practices engine-out scenarios in the pattern—at only 1000 AGL where a spin is as unrecoverable as at 700 AGL.
The presence of an NTSB report for a fatal accident involving a specific maneuver doesn’t inheritely make the maneuver unsafe. Numerous reports exist about pilots entering spins on the turn from base to final, but we still fly rectangular patterns. The presence of an NTSB report should give pilots pause and make them consider their actions carefully when performance something new or unordinary, but isn’t grounds in itself for avoiding the given maneuver.
Emulating engine-outs on take-off at safe altitudes is a very different experience than having the ground 700 feet below you and a real runway with which to line up. I, personally, don’t visualize well and doubt that the practice at altitude would translate into good performance during a real engine-out at 700 AGL. That said, practicing the engine-out tear-shaped 180-degree turns at altitude certainly wouldn’t hurt—but it’s only part of the equation and (in my humble opinion) isn’t a substitute for simulating engine-out at 700 AGL on take-off.
In the NTSB report cited, the aircraft was a Cirrus SR20—well known for its poor handling characteristics in slow flight, unpleasent stalls, and tendency to spin. By contrast, a DA40 has very pleasent slow flight characteristics, gentle stalls, and is relatively hard to spin. Should the SR20 pilot have been practicing engine-out scenarios after a take-off? Maybe, maybe not—I’d like to hear from other Cirrus flight instructors. Speaking for myself, I’m comfortable with performing the tear-shaped 180-degree turn with engine-out. Further, I think that the experience has made me a safer pilot. Just like the experience of handling an engine out everywhere else in the pattern makes me a safer pilot.
My mind is not set on this matter, so I’m open to persuation if anyone feels strongly, sees holes in my reasoning, and cares to leave a comment.
I respect Colin’s opinion on matters of piloting, so I gave his comments long and serious consideration. After that consideration, I must respectfully disagree with Colin on this matter. Praticing engine-out situations after real take-offs isn’t inherently more dangerous than practicing any other engine-out situation in the pattern. Every student pilot practices engine-out scenarios in the pattern—at only 1000 AGL where a spin is as unrecoverable as at 700 AGL.
The presence of an NTSB report for a fatal accident involving a specific maneuver doesn’t inheritely make the maneuver unsafe. Numerous reports exist about pilots entering spins on the turn from base to final, but we still fly rectangular patterns. The presence of an NTSB report should give pilots pause and make them consider their actions carefully when performance something new or unordinary, but isn’t grounds in itself for avoiding the given maneuver.
Emulating engine-outs on take-off at safe altitudes is a very different experience than having the ground 700 feet below you and a real runway with which to line up. I, personally, don’t visualize well and doubt that the practice at altitude would translate into good performance during a real engine-out at 700 AGL. That said, practicing the engine-out tear-shaped 180-degree turns at altitude certainly wouldn’t hurt—but it’s only part of the equation and (in my humble opinion) isn’t a substitute for simulating engine-out at 700 AGL on take-off.
In the NTSB report cited, the aircraft was a Cirrus SR20—well known for its poor handling characteristics in slow flight, unpleasent stalls, and tendency to spin. By contrast, a DA40 has very pleasent slow flight characteristics, gentle stalls, and is relatively hard to spin. Should the SR20 pilot have been practicing engine-out scenarios after a take-off? Maybe, maybe not—I’d like to hear from other Cirrus flight instructors. Speaking for myself, I’m comfortable with performing the tear-shaped 180-degree turn with engine-out. Further, I think that the experience has made me a safer pilot. Just like the experience of handling an engine out everywhere else in the pattern makes me a safer pilot.
My mind is not set on this matter, so I’m open to persuation if anyone feels strongly, sees holes in my reasoning, and cares to leave a comment.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Landings, Night Landings, and Fun at 700 AGL
I had a flight lesson scheduled Monday night, August 14th. I woke up that morning more than a little ill and stayed home from work for sleep and recovery. By late afternoon, I was feeling better and by early evening I made the determination that I was good enough to fly. I wasn’t 100%, but I was sure I could handle the airplane. Still, if I hadn’t been going up with another pilot I would have cancelled my time on the “better safe than sorry” principle.
I had originally scheduled the flight lesson to get some experience on grass and turf runways. Alex wasn’t available, so I flew with Pete. However, Pete pointed out that taking the wheel pants off changes the weight and balance, and thus can only be done by an airplane mechanic and requires that the plane’s books be updated appropriately. Pete offered that we could practice grass fields in the Archer, but I declined—I wanted some practice with normal landings and emergency procedures anyway.
During my last trip, while in the pattern at Watertown Airport, I had to extend my downwind to accommodate traffic on final. Since I couldn’t fly base and final “by the numbers”, I had to use my judgement on altitude, power, and flap settings. I didn’t judge very well, there wasn’t a VASI on the runway I was using, and I made the approach very low. I was uncomfortably close to the tree tops off the end of the field. I had lost my ability to judge approaches.
We flew 9DS to Joliet (JOT), said “hi” to the numerous deer who gathered to watch me, and I shot a lot of landings. I didn’t count, but credited myself with 8 for the entire trip as that number was on the low end of my guesses.
I bounced every landing. Every one. Because I wasn’t cheating. I was working on getting my technique better, so I was fully cutting the power at the appropriate time and working on my flair to arrest the descent so as not to bounce. I was never quite aggressive enough on the flair. Back in the “real world” when I’m flying, I leave a trickle of power in until touch down, so I’m gentler on my flair than—apparently—I should be.
My last couple of take-off and landings at JOT were well after sunset and it was dark. Good night practice. I’m happy to report that my night landings were identical to my day landings (yes, that does mean that I bounced them), so I’m consistent and not succumbing to night illusions.
Finally, we departed JOT. At 700 AGL on upwind, Pete pulled the power and I looked straight ahead at a large patch of black ground in front of me. I tried to remember what was there, but did a quick calculation that it didn’t matter—I should turn back to the runway. Just as I reached that conclusion, Pete said “let’s see if we can make the runway”. I pitched down for best glide and made a steep left turn. I lined up with the runway and, seeing that I was high (!), threw in full flaps. I think I would have landed on the final 1/3 of the runway and overrun the end. Pete said he would have liked to see me put in a slip, perform s-turns, or just waddle my wings to get down faster. Me too, but I’m comfortable with slips and—while I was high for making the runway—I was too low to feel comfortable putting in a slip. And slips don’t help much on the DA40 anyway. Feh. I need to practice this more, maybe in a simulator. So now I know: about 650 AGL is the magic number for me to get the DA40 back to the runway if my engine dies after T/O.
So, I put in power, retracted flaps to T/O, returned to the night sky, and turned home to MDW.
I had originally scheduled the flight lesson to get some experience on grass and turf runways. Alex wasn’t available, so I flew with Pete. However, Pete pointed out that taking the wheel pants off changes the weight and balance, and thus can only be done by an airplane mechanic and requires that the plane’s books be updated appropriately. Pete offered that we could practice grass fields in the Archer, but I declined—I wanted some practice with normal landings and emergency procedures anyway.
During my last trip, while in the pattern at Watertown Airport, I had to extend my downwind to accommodate traffic on final. Since I couldn’t fly base and final “by the numbers”, I had to use my judgement on altitude, power, and flap settings. I didn’t judge very well, there wasn’t a VASI on the runway I was using, and I made the approach very low. I was uncomfortably close to the tree tops off the end of the field. I had lost my ability to judge approaches.
We flew 9DS to Joliet (JOT), said “hi” to the numerous deer who gathered to watch me, and I shot a lot of landings. I didn’t count, but credited myself with 8 for the entire trip as that number was on the low end of my guesses.
I bounced every landing. Every one. Because I wasn’t cheating. I was working on getting my technique better, so I was fully cutting the power at the appropriate time and working on my flair to arrest the descent so as not to bounce. I was never quite aggressive enough on the flair. Back in the “real world” when I’m flying, I leave a trickle of power in until touch down, so I’m gentler on my flair than—apparently—I should be.
My last couple of take-off and landings at JOT were well after sunset and it was dark. Good night practice. I’m happy to report that my night landings were identical to my day landings (yes, that does mean that I bounced them), so I’m consistent and not succumbing to night illusions.
Finally, we departed JOT. At 700 AGL on upwind, Pete pulled the power and I looked straight ahead at a large patch of black ground in front of me. I tried to remember what was there, but did a quick calculation that it didn’t matter—I should turn back to the runway. Just as I reached that conclusion, Pete said “let’s see if we can make the runway”. I pitched down for best glide and made a steep left turn. I lined up with the runway and, seeing that I was high (!), threw in full flaps. I think I would have landed on the final 1/3 of the runway and overrun the end. Pete said he would have liked to see me put in a slip, perform s-turns, or just waddle my wings to get down faster. Me too, but I’m comfortable with slips and—while I was high for making the runway—I was too low to feel comfortable putting in a slip. And slips don’t help much on the DA40 anyway. Feh. I need to practice this more, maybe in a simulator. So now I know: about 650 AGL is the magic number for me to get the DA40 back to the runway if my engine dies after T/O.
So, I put in power, retracted flaps to T/O, returned to the night sky, and turned home to MDW.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Camping and Turf Fields
I missed my rental today. I completely forgot that I had the plane on Sunday night from 8pm to 10pm to complete some night landings to get night current for carrying passengers. I feel like such an idiot. I’ll call Midway Aviators tomorrow and find out if there are consequences and what they might be.
During the time I was supposed to be flying, I was at home looking online for a fly-in, camp-out destination. Unlike the very useful restaurant reviews at 100 Dollar Hamburger, their reviews on fly-in camping opportunities are less than helpful. I’m a big fan of the new Adventure Pilot site because it is well designed and has numerous useful features. Unfortunately, the site is relatively new so there aren’t many reviews of camp grounds in the upper Midwest. And I found at least one review that was inaccurate: according to all the Web sites I’ve found, Mackinaw Island does not have camping areas, so AP has it mislabeled. (If anyone knows otherwise, please leave a comment.) So I needed to do my own research.
I finally settled on Rock Island State Park in Door County, Wisconsin, about 3 hours away by plane. (Google Map of the island.) To non-pilots, it is only accessible by two ferry rides: one from the mainland to Washington Island (a destination in and of itself), then another from Washington Island to Rock Island. However, pilots can fly into Washington Island Airport (2P2), which has two turf strips, skipping one ferry ride.
Wait. Turf strips. The longest of which is only 2,200 feet. Uhm...
As it turns out, all camp sites are booked full on the weekends until late September. (I have to check that the park is still open to camping after mid-September.) Between now and then, I’ll need to practice landing on real turf fields to decide if I’m comfortable landing on turf and taking off on only 2,200 feet of turf. I scheduled a lesson with Pete next Monday (August 14th) to get that practice. I’ll let you know how it goes.
During the time I was supposed to be flying, I was at home looking online for a fly-in, camp-out destination. Unlike the very useful restaurant reviews at 100 Dollar Hamburger, their reviews on fly-in camping opportunities are less than helpful. I’m a big fan of the new Adventure Pilot site because it is well designed and has numerous useful features. Unfortunately, the site is relatively new so there aren’t many reviews of camp grounds in the upper Midwest. And I found at least one review that was inaccurate: according to all the Web sites I’ve found, Mackinaw Island does not have camping areas, so AP has it mislabeled. (If anyone knows otherwise, please leave a comment.) So I needed to do my own research.
I finally settled on Rock Island State Park in Door County, Wisconsin, about 3 hours away by plane. (Google Map of the island.) To non-pilots, it is only accessible by two ferry rides: one from the mainland to Washington Island (a destination in and of itself), then another from Washington Island to Rock Island. However, pilots can fly into Washington Island Airport (2P2), which has two turf strips, skipping one ferry ride.
Wait. Turf strips. The longest of which is only 2,200 feet. Uhm...
As it turns out, all camp sites are booked full on the weekends until late September. (I have to check that the park is still open to camping after mid-September.) Between now and then, I’ll need to practice landing on real turf fields to decide if I’m comfortable landing on turf and taking off on only 2,200 feet of turf. I scheduled a lesson with Pete next Monday (August 14th) to get that practice. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Flight to Watertown (RYV)
The trip to southern Wisconsin went smoothly. MDW to RYV by route of DPA and 68IS at 4,500 feet. The return flight was a reverse trip at 7,500—we kept climbing until the cabin was a comfortable temperature.
I picked 68IS, Casa De Aero, as a way-point while playing with the AOPA Real-Time Planner on my old (old, old) Windows box. I’m sorry to report that I’m not a huge fan of that flight planning package and will stick with my premium membership to AeroPlanner. But, as I said, I was laying out my trip in the AOPA software and looking for another way-point to use as a VFR reference when I saw that this private airport, 68IS, was just perfect. A moment later, I realized that 68IS is Casa De Aero, where Keith Peterson—of Cardinal Flyers Online fame—lives. My first experience flying an airplane was with Keith out of 68IS, so I smiled as I passed overhead. I thought to give Keith a call to let him know I’d be up there, but—it being an Oshkosh weekend—he wasn’t home.
On the train ride from downtown to Midway, I opened VFlite’s GNS 530/430 Interactive Guide to refresh my memory on entering flight plans, planning descents, and a couple of other topics. I’m glad I did—I was very rusty on entering flight plans.
I put my wife in charge of the charts, in part to keep her looking outside during the flight to combat motion sickness. I showed her the TAC pages of the AeroPlanner printout, then the sectionals and where we would transition from the TAC to the sectional. She was an excellent VFR navigator and always knew exactly where we were. The Garmin GPS’s served as a good cross-check, but weren’t required.
Due to a slew of little things, we didn’t get off the ground until 6:45pm Friday night. I recorded the flight there on my iPod using a Sigtronics intercom and a Belkin adapter, since 9DS doesn’t have a nice audio panel with direct plug-ins. I’ll extract the MDW radio calls—ATIS through frequency change—for your review, if you are interested. We spent an hour in the air, about half of it with the sun in our eyes. Not a fun way to fly.
We were a little lower on fuel than I would have liked, but not below my personal minimums (which are well above FAA minimums). Consequently, I chose a really low fuel-flow power setting; it was the first time I have ever set the constant speed prop to 2000 RPM while cruising. 2000 RPM is certainly quieter than 2200 RPM and 2400 RPM, which I normally use for cruise. We landed with 90 minutes of fuel remaining.
I listened to the WX as we approached RYV and selected the appropriate runway for the winds. Several of the runways have right traffic, so I had prepared a sticky note with the appropriate pattern entry information for each runway and stuck it on an open space on the firewall before take-off. That worked well—pattern entry was a no-brainer and I never second-guessing myself.
The FBO was amazing. Very friendly, very courteous, very attentive. I’m uncomfortable with people waiting on me to any significant degree, and since I’m new to this whole fly-in-to-a-new-airport thing, I really stumbled my way through the process. “Uhm, top off the gas, please. Yes, tie-down, please. Picking it up tomorrow at 10-ish. Uh, sure you can help with my bags.” The Enterprise rental car was ready for us and the lady behind the counter was very helpful with directions and printing out maps from the Web.
The bed & breakfast we visited, The Inn at Pine Terrace was very pleasant. The breakfast is continental, not cooked, but the rooms are very nice, the staff is knowledgeable, and the area has a lot to explore. We had an outstanding dinner at The Red Circle Inn, Wisconsin’s oldest restaurant.
The flight back had a couple of items to report. We climbed to 7,500 feet to find cool air. That put me 500-1000 feet above a broken layer of clouds. Being sensitive to VFR minimums, I flew through the cloud valleys keeping good separation on all sides, much like my first flight with Keith. Nice how things come full circle. Amy really liked that experience. As we got closer to DPA, there was a large break in the clouds and I started descending. The break in the cloud wasn’t quite big enough, so I started descending more than 400 fpm. Not quite enough. Down more. A little more… a little more… there! Er, 2000 fpm. Watch that yellow arc. Closer to the red line that the green line. Whoo! That was exciting. I gently leveled off at 3,500 feet and called DPA.
I picked 68IS, Casa De Aero, as a way-point while playing with the AOPA Real-Time Planner on my old (old, old) Windows box. I’m sorry to report that I’m not a huge fan of that flight planning package and will stick with my premium membership to AeroPlanner. But, as I said, I was laying out my trip in the AOPA software and looking for another way-point to use as a VFR reference when I saw that this private airport, 68IS, was just perfect. A moment later, I realized that 68IS is Casa De Aero, where Keith Peterson—of Cardinal Flyers Online fame—lives. My first experience flying an airplane was with Keith out of 68IS, so I smiled as I passed overhead. I thought to give Keith a call to let him know I’d be up there, but—it being an Oshkosh weekend—he wasn’t home.
On the train ride from downtown to Midway, I opened VFlite’s GNS 530/430 Interactive Guide to refresh my memory on entering flight plans, planning descents, and a couple of other topics. I’m glad I did—I was very rusty on entering flight plans.
I put my wife in charge of the charts, in part to keep her looking outside during the flight to combat motion sickness. I showed her the TAC pages of the AeroPlanner printout, then the sectionals and where we would transition from the TAC to the sectional. She was an excellent VFR navigator and always knew exactly where we were. The Garmin GPS’s served as a good cross-check, but weren’t required.
Due to a slew of little things, we didn’t get off the ground until 6:45pm Friday night. I recorded the flight there on my iPod using a Sigtronics intercom and a Belkin adapter, since 9DS doesn’t have a nice audio panel with direct plug-ins. I’ll extract the MDW radio calls—ATIS through frequency change—for your review, if you are interested. We spent an hour in the air, about half of it with the sun in our eyes. Not a fun way to fly.
We were a little lower on fuel than I would have liked, but not below my personal minimums (which are well above FAA minimums). Consequently, I chose a really low fuel-flow power setting; it was the first time I have ever set the constant speed prop to 2000 RPM while cruising. 2000 RPM is certainly quieter than 2200 RPM and 2400 RPM, which I normally use for cruise. We landed with 90 minutes of fuel remaining.
I listened to the WX as we approached RYV and selected the appropriate runway for the winds. Several of the runways have right traffic, so I had prepared a sticky note with the appropriate pattern entry information for each runway and stuck it on an open space on the firewall before take-off. That worked well—pattern entry was a no-brainer and I never second-guessing myself.
The FBO was amazing. Very friendly, very courteous, very attentive. I’m uncomfortable with people waiting on me to any significant degree, and since I’m new to this whole fly-in-to-a-new-airport thing, I really stumbled my way through the process. “Uhm, top off the gas, please. Yes, tie-down, please. Picking it up tomorrow at 10-ish. Uh, sure you can help with my bags.” The Enterprise rental car was ready for us and the lady behind the counter was very helpful with directions and printing out maps from the Web.
The bed & breakfast we visited, The Inn at Pine Terrace was very pleasant. The breakfast is continental, not cooked, but the rooms are very nice, the staff is knowledgeable, and the area has a lot to explore. We had an outstanding dinner at The Red Circle Inn, Wisconsin’s oldest restaurant.
The flight back had a couple of items to report. We climbed to 7,500 feet to find cool air. That put me 500-1000 feet above a broken layer of clouds. Being sensitive to VFR minimums, I flew through the cloud valleys keeping good separation on all sides, much like my first flight with Keith. Nice how things come full circle. Amy really liked that experience. As we got closer to DPA, there was a large break in the clouds and I started descending. The break in the cloud wasn’t quite big enough, so I started descending more than 400 fpm. Not quite enough. Down more. A little more… a little more… there! Er, 2000 fpm. Watch that yellow arc. Closer to the red line that the green line. Whoo! That was exciting. I gently leveled off at 3,500 feet and called DPA.
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