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]]>Hum, I though that was the airplane owner’s job? NO, just like if I let you borrow my car with expired insurance, registration and a missing headlight, who get’s the ticket? You do.. Once you take possession of the airplane and determine it is safe to fly, that’s on you…
What about the Airplane Mechanic, it’s this his / her job to make sure the airplane is safe? Yes and no, if the A&P signed the airplane off for return to service, they are simply saying that it looked good when they looked at it on that date, if someone drove a lawnmower into it or shot the prop with a gun (yes, that’s happened twice to people I know) the airplane isn’t Airworthy anymore, and you might want to call the cops..
My flight school says that I can’t look at the Airplane Logbooks… Get a new flight school.. NOW.
A word of caution, especially to instructors. If a student want’s to fly their airplane vs the flight School airplane, make sure their airplane is legal to fly. I’ve caught two unairworthy airplanes in the past 6 months while conducting record reviews.
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]]>The post Afraid of flying? A success story appeared first on 110knots.com.
]]>Like any CFI, I’ve run into pilots who struggled with their initial flight training. One example was Bob.. Bob was working with a colleague of mine at the academy and had struggled throughout the second phase of his Private Pilot training (solo and XC.)
My colleague had a great track record of moving students through the program in time, but he was butting heads with this particular student. The first thing my manager told me was that this student wouldn’t fly on windy days. I responded “is he afraid of flying?” After a review of his training folder, it became clear to me that he was. There was a stack of progress reports about an inch thick. “PUI nearly stalled the airplane during attempted go-around” “PUI is very rough on the controls” “PUI not responding to instructor commands, instructor had to take over controls”.
I met with Bob the next morning for his lesson. We discussed fear and how it can both help and hurt you as a pilot.
Me: “Some amount of fear is good, it will keep you alive, but too much fear will make you freeze and can hurt you.”
Me: “So, what’s the deal with not flying on windy days?”
Bob: “I don’t see the point in flying when it’s windy.”
Me: “Smooth seas make for bad sailors, seriously though; one day, on your solo, it may get windy. Wouldn’t you want to be comfortable with wind on that day?”
Me: “I was once so afraid of flying that I’d have an anxiety attack on my way to the airport. I had to fight past that fear. Do you know how I did it?”
Bob: “How?”
Me: “I flew on really windy days with my CFI.”
Our first lesson: Right after takeoff I could see that Bob was very tense. It was a smooth day in a great G1000 Cessna with light traffic. Nothing to worry about, but he was wound up tighter than a spring.
Me: “Smooth, smooth. Pretend that your mom is in the back of the airplane.” No change.
I took him to a somewhat challenging airport. Always a crosswind and trees on either end of the runway. I worked with him on his landings (but more on his fear). On our way back I asked him to demonstrate a power on stall. Bob was fighting the little cessna. Ailerons and rudders flapping away, to the stopps!
Me: “She’s a nice girl, but if you keep slapping her, she’s going to slap you back.”
Me: “Let me demonstrate.” I flew the Cessna all the way to the edge of the stall, then I turned 90 degrees in either direction. Then I stalled and recovered without losing altitude. “You see, If you fly smooth, it’s easy. Now try it.”
Bob once again overcontrolled the airplane. I decided to let him learn the err of his ways the old fashioned way.
Me: “She’s a nice girl, but if you keep slapping her she’s going to slap you back” I repeated.
WOOP. Incipient spin!
As we briefly flipped inverted, I started laughing. “OOH, she slapped you”
My point here was to show no fear. To demonstrate that there is nothing to worry about, if you remain calm.
Me: “Now fix it.” (Don’t help if you can help it. Let them build confidence)
Bob panicked and added full power…
Me: “NO, that’s not how we do it”
Second turn in the developing spin, approaching maneuver floor.
Me: in a stern voice. “What do we do?” (Still not helping.)
Bob snapped out of it and correctly followed his PARE procedure.
In an instant, the forgiving Cessna returned to normal flight.
Me: “You see, not so bad, was it?”
Bob was ready to listen to his new crazy instructor.
Eventually Bob became one of my best students and a good friend. On his first solo the winds picked up to 17 knots across the runway. It took him three attempts (two go-arounds), but he ended with a perfect crosswind landing. That was a proud moment for me. Watching him overcome his fear is one of my crowning achievements of my time as an instructor.
On his solo cross country, he ran into unforecasted pop-up thunderstorms. He solicited the help of flight service, ATC, Flight Dispatch and even sent me a text message regarding his situation. I watched him on radar as he expertly managed a stressful situation and returned to base safely. The head of safety came to me and asked “was that your student?” “Yup” “Great work!” I pulled Bob over and asked the head of safety to repeat what he just said. “Great job Bob, great job!”
A once timid student was now a confident pilot. He recently completed all of his training. He’s off to his airline where he’ll continue his ATP and Type rating.
About my fear:
I was once a white knuckle flyer. On my first business trip from NJ to CA, my co-worker noticed that I was holding onto my seat like a stray cat on a car ride. Ed turned to me and said, “I don’t like flying either.” I responded, “no, I think it’s awesome, but I’m afraid, too many air disaster documentaries.” Ed introduced me to my other co-worker Lou. Lou was a long time pilot with his very own Cessna 170B. When we got home he took me on a flight up the Hudson River. That was the fall of 2000. I started flight training soon after and was hooked ever since. After earning my PPL, I continued to battle the fear until joining a flying club in Morristown NJ KMMU. There I met more pilots and expanded my horizons. I eventually earned my instrument rating and began flying more often. What was once terrifying, became the thing I’d look forward to.
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]]>Truth is, if you didn’t conduct your initial training in a mountainous area, all of your flying has likely occurred at lower altitudes (below 6000’ MSL). This can result in a huge gap in our practical training and reading dry content in a book doesn’t always drive this home.
My first experience with Hypoxic Hypoxia (the altitude type) was on a flight from NJ to Oshkosh WI for EAA AirVenture back in 2009. I was flying right seat in my friend Frank’s Cirrus SR-22. My job was to run the radios. He brought along an oxygen bottle and briefed me on its use. Having never used oxygen, I thought this was a bit overkill. Heck, the FAA says we don’t need it, so we are good. Right? But after a few hours of flying at just 10’000 feet, I started missing radio calls. I didn’t realize it. I thought everything was just “GREAT”. Frank finally turned to me and asked “Mike, check your oxygen levels, Cleveland center keeps calling us”. I looked at my O2 stats on the meter and saw just 85% (I could write a post on these devices, but just know, what it reads can be much higher than your real O2 levels.) “WOW,” I thought. I turned my oxygen up on the regulator and POOF, the lights came on and I was back to myself. At the time, I was in terrible physical shape. I was overweight and did zero cardio. Now that I’m 30 pounds lighter, I’m comfortable with long flights at altitudes up to 12,000 feet, but I’m still careful.
My second experience with Hypoxic Hypoxia was on a long IFR night flight from Portland Maine back to NJ in a Cessna 172sp. I was flying with my friend, we’ll call him “Bob”. Bob is a happy guy, he is so happy, in my opinion, that he was born to be a photographer “SMILE EVERYONE!” (which is what he has done, quite successfully I might add). We were dodging thunderstorms all over the northeast and ended up being vectored to Albany until finally crossing the front. Just as we turned south, he snapped at me. “This is shit, this just sucks, this is going to take forever!” I responded “Wow Bob, I think you are hypoxic” “NO, I’m not!”. We had been flying at around 7,000 feet for over an hour. I requested a lower altitude and was soon granted a descent to 5,000 feet. A few minutes later, Bob turned to me and said “man, isn’t this great!” I responded, “welcome back.” The scary thing is that he had no recollection of the outburst. Hypoxia can have a HUGE impact on your performance and personality, even at lower altitudes.
Video: Crew becomes Hypoxic at altitude:
FAR 91.211 outlines the basic requirements for oxygen use in pressurized and unpressurized aircraft (we’ll skip pressurized aircraft for this post), but we should understand that these are requirements, or in this case, minimums, and they aren’t necessarily the most conservative options. Let’s look instead at the AIM, keeping in mind my two stories above. But first a note: if you regularly fly at, let’s say 10,000 feet and run marathons for fun, you may be fine holding off on Oxygen use until the FARs kick in. But if you’ve never flown above 6,000’ and enjoy Popeyes Chicken Sandwiches on a weekly basis, I’d recommend an O2 bottle for that trip to Oshkosh in your new Bonanza. Back to business. According to the AIM, Night vision starts to drop off at altitudes as low as 5,000 feet, and functions start to drop off at 10,000 feet during the day. It’s for this reason that they recommend oxygen use above these altitudes. Everyone is different. Best practice, use common sense and err on the side of safety.
In FAR 91.211 they leave some room for time at altitude. For example: From above 12,500 – 14,000 feet you don’t need supplemental oxygen unless you fly up there for more than 30 minutes. Above 14,000 up to 15,000 the crew must be on oxygen. Above 15,000’ you need to provide oxygen to your passengers, but they don’t have to use it. But why the 30 minute rule? This is because the effect of reduced pressure in the lungs takes time. The higher you go, the less pressure there is, so the less time you have before feeling the effects.
So why even allow 12,500 – 14,000 for 30 minutes? The first example I give to my students is a pilot crossing a mountain range. He or she may only need to fly above 12,500 for 10 minutes, until clear of terrain. The other example I use are skydive pilots. They spend a few minutes at these altitudes before dropping their screaming passengers out the back door. Jumpers away! So what’s so magic about 12,500 feet? Nothing really. In my opinion, if you’re flying at, let’s say, 12,000 for more than 30 minutes, you should have oxygen available. The next question that many DPS’s will ask is, can you just fly to 12,500’ for 29 minutes, and then descend back to, let’s say, 11,000’ and back up to 12,500? Legally, yes, will ATC allow it? Most likely, no. Is that the intent of the rule? No. So again, stay on the side of safety and avoid it.
Hypoxic Hypoxia (the altitude type)
As we climb, air is less dense. Simply put, for every cubic foot of air, there is less and less oxygen. You’re breathing, but your lungs can’t absorb the oxygen in the air because there is less of it. Factors can include, but are not limited to, smoking, general fitness, lack of sleep etc. Simply put, turn up your Oxygen and you should be better. Easy…. Unless you didn’t bring Oxygen. Then It’s time to get to a lower altitude!
Hypemic Hypoxia (Think Carbon Monoxide)
This is the reduced ability of your blood to carry the oxygen we absorb via the lungs. You can turn that oxygen bottle up, but things remain bad. It’s TIME TO LAND! ASAP! The way I explain this to my students is to imagine a conveyor belt. The empty buckets represent your hemoglobin (the part that carries the oxygen to your organs). Carbon monoxide has an affinity (attraction) to hemoglobin and BLOCKS the receptors before the oxygen can bond with it. Simply put, imagine the carbon monoxide as a blocker that fills the buckets before Oxygen has a chance to be carried. Over time, your oxygen levels drop more and more until you pass out. Then it’s over. Practically put, if you smell exhaust fumes, shut off the heat, open the fresh air vents and get on the ground. I had this happen once when I was a brand new Private Pilot. I had a splitting headache all day. Not fun, but I got on the ground right away. Other causes are anemia, hemorrhage, hemoglobin abnormalities, sulfa drugs and nitrates, but are less common in aviation.
Stagnant Hypoxia:
Blood flow is compromised. Most common cause? The example I use is high G maneuvers. Blood is pulled from your brain and you go night night! Other causes are exposure to extreme cold (rapid decompression in a pressurized aircraft) or the failure of your heart to pump blood effectively. In that case, you have bigger problems.
Histoxic Hypoxia:
Think TOXIC. Drugs and or Alcohol (this is why the FAA is so strict on what RX drugs you take). My example to my students here is a person goes drinking all night, then goes flying because they feel fine. At 10,000 feet they are drunk again. Why? The cells are impaired and can’t use the oxygen. This is also why you feel BUZZED when drinking. Same thing.
In closing, the tricky part about hypoxia is that our bodies don’t have an adequate warning system for it. You feel great, then you feel sleepy, then it’s over. There have been many examples of tragic accidents due to this silent killer. It’s best that you understand the risks and know your warning signs. If you’d like to learn your warning signs, in a safe environment, you can attend high altitude training in a hyperbaric chamber. Here’s a link to the FAA website where you can schedule this training. Take your camera, it should make for a funny home video that you can dust off during family events. https://www.faa.gov/pilots/training/airman_education/aerospace_physiology/
AIM Page 535 – 536 http://www.faraim.org/aim/aim-4-03-14-535.html
FAA Beware of Hypoxia By Larry Boshers https://www.faa.gov/pilots/training/airman_education/topics_of_interest/hypoxia/
FAR 91.211 https://www.law.cornell.edu/cfr/text/14/91.211
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]]>The post Soloing a Student Pilot. Tips From a CFI appeared first on 110knots.com.
]]>At the part 141 school that I teach at, students don’t solo until nearly the end of their training program. Many have negative opinions of this practice, but rules are rules and I don’t mind the extra time to prepare my students for our busy class C airport environment. When I first started working as a CFI (part 61 school at the time), my chief would endorse most of the students for their solos. I was okay with this practice since it afforded me some protection from potential negative marks on my certificate, in the event that something went wrong. But once I started at my new school, that would ultimately change.
The answer is both yes and no. It is as rewarding to the instructor when a student solos as it is for the student. It is also scary as hell! When you as a student solo, you feel in control. You have been well prepared (see tips below) and you knew how you felt (mentally and physically). I, as an instructor, can’t get into the student’s head (as much as the student may say otherwise). Maybe the student is pressured by their company to “finish up”, perhaps their roommate soloed the previous day and they don’t want to look bad. Maybe he or she has a camera crew ready to celebrate their solo when they return, or maybe they were so excited that they didn’t sleep last night. Whatever it is, as a CFI, I can’t always tell.
Before I solo any student, I’ll sit in the airplane and brief him / her. I might say, “You are the pilot in command today, I’m just going along for the ride, show me what you’ve got!” From that point on, I don’t say a word. Did the student mess up on the radio and misread a clearance? Figure it out. Have a bad MAG check? Figure it out. Airspeed fails on takeoff (happened twice)? Figure it out. Bad touchdown or approach? Go around.
Point is, if I help, I’m putting their life at risk when I finally get out of the airplane.
My standard practice is to have the student make one normal landing on a spot (500′ markers on 9R or 27L at SFB) I wont say a thing. I cross my legs and my arms so I wont “help”. I won’t even point out traffic unless it’s a safety issue (and then the solo is in serious doubt). I’m not looking for perfect landings. I’m looking for: 1. On the mains, 2. On the center line 3. No drift left or right and finally 4. Aligned with the runway. Then it’s time to bring the airplane to a stop. I learned early on, NEVER HELP WITH STOPPING THE AIRPLANE (unless you are about to exit the runway into the grass). This is where we see most of our incidents during solo operations. Runway excursions, or in other words, demolition derby, airplane addition!
The next landing will have a twist. On upwind, I’ll request a short approach, or if the pattern is empty, I’ll ask for it at the last moment while on downwind (the only time I make a radio call). Then I’ll chop the power. I won’t say a thing, instead I’ll wait for the student’s reaction. Made a good landing? They are one landing away from solo. Totally mess it up (diving for the runway etc.) and we need to talk. Come up short? Now what? The student better say “I’ll land here sir.” I’ll always save the last landing as a “normal” landing. I don’t want the student flying a pattern that won’t work on his / her solo.
We’ve all heard something to this effect, and there’s a reason. It’s as true as the word of God himself. Cross the numbers in a Cessna just a few knots fast and you’ll find yourself floating past your touchdown point by a mile. Worse yet, if you focus on your spot, you’ll drive that nose wheel into the ground followed by a high bounce as your 30+ year old training airplane screams OUCH! At this point THE STUDENT MUST GO AROUND! Make sure your student understands that he / she will be flying a lighter airplane without your fat butt aboard. 65 knots in a Cessna 172 on a solo is just too fast. 60 is better. 55 is too slow. My students don’t solo unless they can master airspeed control, but how do I teach this?
From the abeam point until you are on final, it’s all pretty much procedure (unless SFB tower has you extend your downwind miles away). Power 1500 RPM, Speed below 110, flaps 10, trim two turns nose up, speed 85, 45 degree point, turn base, speed check below 85, flaps 20, speed 75, speed 70, turning final.. Now what? When I first started teaching I’d say “pitch for airspeed, power for altitude”. The statement is still true, but I found my students pitching up and down chasing the airspeed on final. What I’ve found works better is to teach them to “fly to the numbers.” “Focus on the runway numbers and keep them in the same spot”. This results in a stable approach. When I teach it, I normally fly and talk. “I’m looking at the numbers, now I’m glancing at my speed, back to the numbers.” The final 100 feet should be by feel. No more looking inside. Everything is OUTSIDE. “Eyes outside!”
Now that you are approaching the numbers, shift your focus down the runway. Not all the way down, just about 1000 – 2000 feet. If you look too far out, you’ll round out high, if you look too close, you’ll fly it into the runway. Now let’s “try not to land”. Retard the power “little power”. Eyes OUTSIDE. “Wide vision (peripheral) for height above the runway.” Rudder to point the airplane down the runway, yoke to stay there. “Hold it off. Hold it. More, more, and, touchdown!” IT ISN’T OVER! “Yoke back, back, back, back, Breaks….. Rudder. Breaks. Almost stopped, now, turn. NEVER let anyone rush you. Eyes outside!” Check out this article from Bold Method on the subject.
Before I leave my students on their own, I remind them with the same word repeated three times. “SAFETY, SAFETY, SAFETY.” Nothing else matters!
Now it’s time. If you’re like me, this is a good time to breathe and say a little prayer. Off they go! Make sure they know: “If you have a problem on the takeoff, you have one call to make, ‘am I flying or aborting?”’ Nothing else. I once had a guy almost take out the glide-slope antenna when his window popped open on his first solo. He never made that mistake again. He actually turned out to be one of my best solo students.
Monitor the flight, especially the wind. I had one guy get caught in a strong crosswind right after his last takeoff. Three go-arounds later, he came in for a perfect crosswind landing. When I asked, “why did you go around so many times? The approach looked great.” He responded, “Sir, you said that I must be on the center line, I was a little off.” This from the guy who would argue with me that his landing was perfect as he nearly cut the grass! I love it when a student learns the importance of what we teach.
Soloing a student can be one of the most rewarding things you will do as an instructor, but only if done safely. Remember to take your time and be prepared to unsat a solo attempt if things don’t go well. Explain to the student that it just isn’t their day to solo. Heck, blame it on the weather if you have to. There is no better feeling than watching your student apply the knowledge you’ve given them when it really counts- when you aren’t there to do it for them!
Fly safe!
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