U-Turns

My usual goal is avoid anything to do with aviation on my day off, but I feel compelled to help out today because I’ve learned something important over the years: Everything in aviation is connected - people, planes, airports, weather. Today’s short flight is to ferry an aircraft to a nearby airport for it’s 50-hour oil change and to have some squawks (minor problems) addressed. I haven’t flown this aircraft in a while, but things can change in a heartbeat. I never know when my teaching schedule could make me dependent on this particular plane. Obviously others are flying this plane, otherwise it wouldn’t need an oil change and the best time to wrench on a plane is when the weather prevents it from flying anyway. Unnecessary down time causes everyone to lose and the simple act of ferrying this plane will help the owner, the operator, other instructors, other pilots, and ultimately myself. The way I look at it, aviation is just a really big family.

For the last six weeks the weather has been nothing short of spectacular, better than many summer days. Today the conditions just turned decidedly winter-like with the first of what promises to be a series of cold fronts. The surface winds are out of the Southeast in the vicinity of 15 knots with gusts up to 30 knots, the ceilings and visibility near my house are low with light rain and mist, but the departure and arrival airports are still reporting weather consistent with visual flight rules (VFR). Experience tells me the conditions near my house will eventually spread to the Southeast, engulfing both airports, making them switch to the more complicated and time-consuming instrument flight rules (IFR). It only takes a little imagination to see that if I begin the flight soon, it will be a short, simple affair under VFR. A later departure will make the flight more complicated and time-consuming. I hope for the simple version, but because I know life is complicated I also file an IFR flight plan before leaving the house.

With traffic, I’ll need about 40 minutes to complete the 15 mile drive to the airport. There are a bunch of non-aviation chores to be done on my day off that I’m hoping to do first. And since the ferry flight will be a one way trip, I coordinate a ride back to my car with a friend. Glancing at the time, I do the mental math, consider time to dispatch and preflight the plane, add an extra 30 minutes, and decide on a departure time of noon. On the way, Google maps on my iPhone shows slow freeway traffic. Only after experiencing the slow-and-go firsthand does the cause become clear: Two blocked lanes where CalTrans is sweeping the median. 20 minutes of my 30 minute fudge factor are now gone.

During the dispatch and preflight, I take note of the minor discrepancies other pilots have reported. More delays slowly eat into the remaining 10 minutes of my fudge factor before I have the engine started. Then I discover a minor problem with the number two radio that was previously unreported. Hey, it’s not my fault! As a freight dog friend of mine used to say, “I don’t break ‘em, I just fly ‘em.”

The delays have compounded and the weather is deteriorating rapidly. Low ceilings and rain are creeping in from the Northwest, but the Bay Area is on the Southeast plan and that will help my cause: I’ll be headed directly to my destination right after takeoff. What doesn’t help is that the ground control frequency is busy and the controller seems distracted. I call for taxi and am told to hold my position. I hear two landing bizjets inform the tower they broke out on the approach at 500 feet. The current Automated Terminal Information Service (the airport’s weather report) was reporting an overcast ceiling at 2500 feet. The ATIS obviously need to be updated and that may explain the distracted controller. As I sit and wait, I can see my VFR plans fading rapidly. After another two minutes of waiting I throw in the towel, switch to clearance delivery and request an IFR clearance. I’m glad I filed that IFR flight plan. Calling ground control again with an IFR clearance, I get immediate taxi instructions.

The last card I may be able to play is to depart IFR and hope to remain out of the clouds long enough to see the nearby destination airport. That could allow me to call the field in sight and still proceed visually to the airport. That plan looks doubtful as I hit the clouds at 500 feet after takeoff and aside from brief glimpses of the ground, I can’t see the destination airport.

Looking on the bright side, I’ll get a rare, solo IFR flight in a nice, steam gauge aircraft. A change of pace is always good. The ride gets a bit bumpy, then I break out between cloud layers for a few moments. Further to the East the conditions are still VFR. I can see the Livermore airport for a few minutes before I’m turned back into the clouds toward my destination.

All the instrument approaches to my destination are to the West-facing runways. The strong, gusty surface winds dictate a circle to the opposite, East-facing runway once I enter visual conditions. In essence, the entire flight has been a very large U-turn in the sky, followed by another U-turn before landing. This flight is a good illustration of how IFR flights can be much more complicated and time-consuming that a short VFR hop. Southeast, three miles out on the approach I see the destination airport and the slow-moving wall of precipitation closing in from the Northwest.

The tower controller’s instructions are to circle to the South and I’m cleared to land on the East-facing runway. Flying the downwind leg, parallel to the runway, requires about a 20 degree wind correction angle to the left to keep the wind from pushing me over the runway. Though I’m in visual conditions, I’m careful to not descend below the minimum circling altitude until I’m on final approach to the runway. My base turn is just clear of the rainy goo that is about to engulf the airport.

Completing the final U-turn and aligned with runway, the 20 degree wind correction angle is now to the left. Unprompted, the tower controller informs me the surface winds are out of the South, gusting to around 25 knots. Flaps 30 and this will be a good crosswind component. The little gray cells are fully engaged as I focus on the white paint on the runway pavement. The aiming point on the runway appears to move up the windshield and the plane is bounced about. A little wind shear, but my left hand has unconsciously moved the throttle in to increase engine power. A few seconds later, the aiming point is moving down the windshield and I reduce power. This dance continues until the aircraft is right over the runway pavement.

Tracking right over the centerline, the nose is still pointed to the right to compensate for the wind. Slowly move the throttle toward idle, the plane sinks to the pavement, just ease in left rudder to align the nose with the centerline, simultaneously turning the yoke to the right to offset the wind. The right main wheel touches first, lightly, and time seems to stop with the plane balanced on one wheel. Gradually the left main wheel touches down, the nose wheel follows, and it’s time to turn the yoke all the way to the right, retract the flaps and gently start braking.

Taxing clear of the runway, the ground controller clears me to taxi and there’s a moment to reflect. Few things in life as satisfying as a well-executed crosswind landing, but that’s just icing on the cake. I’ve hit the trifecta - a nice solo flight, an instrument approach, and I’ve done my part to keep my aviation community running smoothly. Who knows what tomorrow will bring, but today the shortest distance between two points consisted of two U-turns.

How Many Engineers Does it Take?

OAK 09/200 OAK NAV VORTAC OTS TIL 1010312359

The Oakland VORTAC has been out of service for, well ... I think it was NOTAMed back in April or May of 2010. Pretty amazing when you consider this is one of the major navigation aids on the West Coast: It defines six Victor airways, six Jet airways, and numerous airports have instrument approaches, departure procedures, and arrivals that rely on it. So what is the FAA doing to the Oakland VORTAC and why is it taking so long? This isn't the entire story, just some of the pieces.

The Oakland VORTAC was missing in action for an extended period about six years ago when a range of radials had become unusable and an effort was undertaken to figure out why. Around that time the Ron Cowan Parkway had just been completed, named after the developer of the nearby Harbor Bay business and residential developments.

Sometimes called the road to nowhere, the project to build the Cowan Parkway figured in an FBI probe that started after allegations of impropriety between Mr. Cowan and then state senator Don Perata. It seems that some folk thought the road was primarily designed to increase the value of Mr. Cowan's real estate holdings at Harbor Bay at taxpayer expense, but that's a deep topic. So moving on I'll point out that the Cowan Parkway divides the Oakland Airport in half, provides alternate access to the FedEx ramp and the South Field terminal as well as an alternate route for residents of Bay Farm Island. Cyclists also benefit from bike lanes that flank the road.

Building the parkway was a big project, in part because a tunnel had to be constructed under Taxiway Bravo, the only connection for taxiing aircraft between Oakland's South Field and the North Field. In addition, airport perimeter barriers had to be adapted and new chain link fencing and razor wire installed. After investigating, it was determined that the new fences were close enough to the VORTAC that they were distorting the signals. Sections of the fencing were replaced with redwood (which you can see in the photo above), the FAA's flight check aircraft conducted various tests, there were still some radials in the Northwest quadrant deemed unusable, but the VORTAC was returned to service and life got back to normal, mostly.

Recently an initiative was undertaken to dopplerize the Oakland VORTAC to increase its accuracy and eliminate or reduce the number of unusable radials. This is the project that started in earnest last spring and after a month or so, a bunch of little mushroom-shaped antennae were seen ringing the main bowling pin antenna.

In July the flight check aircraft was testing the results. I remember one of the days because the FAA's flight check King Air made quite a stir, flying the OAK VOR RWY 9R approach when all other traffic was landing runways 29, 27 Left and 27 Right. A student I was flying with had to break off a practice approach, but I didn't mind because I assumed this meant progress was being made. Yet as the end of July approached, the NOTAM was changed to show the VORTAC returning to service at the end of September. Then I got wind of some of what was going on.

It seems that the new configuration failed the high-altitude flight check and a new effort was underway to determine why. At one point a theory was that surplus concrete debris that the airport facilities folks use to repair the numerous dikes and levees around the airport was causing the problem. The concrete chunks were piled up near the VORTAC, some of the chunks contained rebar, and the thought was this was distorting the VORTAC's signals. This isn't the first time rebar has affected aviation at Oakland: A few years ago it was discovered that both compass roses had been constructed with concrete that contained rebar, which could explain why so many compasses that were swung at Oakland seemed screwed up. The compass roses remain closed.

USD 05/081 NUQ AIRSPACE SOUTHLAND ONE DEPARTURE... NA EXCEPT FOR AIRCRAFT EQUIPPED WITH SUITABLE RNAV SYSTEM WITH GPS. OAK VORTAC OTS.

USD 05/083 LVK AIRSPACE LIVERMORE ONE DEPARTURE... PROCEDURE NA EXCEPT FOR AIRCRAFT EQUIPPED WITH SUITABLE RNAV SYSTEM WITH GPS. OAK VORTAC OTS.

USD 05/085 SFO AIRSPACE PORTE THREE DEPARTURE TAKE-OFF RUNWAYS 10L/R AND 19L/R: PROCEDURE NA EXCEPT FOR AIRCRAFT EQUIPPED WITH SUITABLE RNAV SYSTEM WITH GPS. OAK VOR OTS. 

USD 05/097 SFO AIRSPACE SHORELINE ONE DEPARTURE...
PROCEDURE NA EXCEPT FOR AIRCRAFT EQUIPPED WITH SUITABLE RNAV SYSTEM WITH GPS. OAK VORTAC OTS. 

USD 05/082 OAK AIRSPACE SKYLINE THREE DEPARTURE...
RWYS 9L, 9R, 11 NA EXCEPT FOR AIRCRAFT EQUIPPED WITH SUITABLE RNAV SYSTEM WITH GPS. OAK VORTAC OTS.

USD 05/084 OAK AIRSPACE MARINA FOUR DEPARTURE...
NA EXCEPT FOR AIRCRAFT EQUIPPED WITH SUITABLE RNAV
SYSTEM WITH GPS. OAK VORTAC OTS. 

USD 05/149 OAK AIRSPACE SALAD ONE DEPARTURE NA EXCEPT FOR AIRCRAFT EQUIPPED WITH SUITABLE RNAV SYSTEM WITH GPS. OAK VORTAC OTS.

USD 05/087 CCR AIRSPACE BUCHANAN NINE DEPARTURE PITTS TRANSITIONS: NA EXCEPT FOR AIRCRAFT EQUIPPED WITH SUITABLE RNAV SYSTEM WITH GPS. OAK VORTAC OTS.

USD 05/086 APC AIRSPACE LIZRD THREE DEPARTURE OAKLAND TRANSITIONS: NA EXCEPT FOR AIRCRAFT EQUIPPED WITH SUITABLE RNAV SYSTEM WITH GPS. OAK VORTAC OTS.

Another repercussion has been that a local freight carrier cannot use the SALAD ONE departure because many (or all?) of their aircraft are not RNAV equipped. So instead of departing runway 27L or 27R, turning East over the San Leandro Bay, and intercepting the 060˚ radial, they have to fly heading 310 until high enough to be vectored to the East. The 310 heading takes them right over residential areas of Alameda late at night and in the early morning hours.

Pilots who wish to fly the HWD LOC/DME RWY 28L approach are required to be flying aircraft equipped with a suitable RNAV system because the missed approach holding fix is (wait for it) ... the Oakland VORTAC. I got bitten by this one a couple of weeks ago when the weather into Hayward didn't clear as forecast. My student had to fly the ILS into Oakland, then we sat and waited for VFR weather so we could reposition back to nearby Hayward. Live and learn.

VORTAC with new Counterpoise

I don't know if the theory about rebar in scrap concrete interfering with the VORTAC was itself scrapped, but the latest development was an assessment that the counterpoise (the roof of the VORTAC building) was too small. An effort was undertaken to enlarge the roof, increasing its diameter by some 16 feet to a total diameter of 84 feet. It looks like this part of the project is mostly completed and the latest NOTAM claims the OAK VORTAC should be back in service by the end of October, 2010.

In 2002, the man for whom the road was named defaulted on over $43 million in loans from Lehman Brothers and the investment bank and its property management company seized much of what Cowan owned at Harbor Bay Business Park. The road itself is not heavily travelled, though it did end up reportedly costing taxpayers over $100 million. The road appears indirectly responsible for trouble faced by pilots and a noise-sensitive community. The weather is bound to get worse as winter approaches and fixing the Oakland VORTAC could go down to the wire. We'll just have to wait and see if the FAA can pull a rabbit out of their hat or if the Cowan Parkway will continue to be the gift that keeps giving.

Internal Combustion

On July 10, 2007, about 0835 eastern daylight time, a Cessna Aircraft Company 310R, N501N, part of the fleet operated by the National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing (NASCAR) corporate aviation division, crashed while performing an emergency diversion to Orlando Sanford International Airport, Orlando, Florida. The two pilots on board the airplane (a commercial pilot and an airline transport pilot) and three people on the ground were killed. Four people on the ground received serious injuries. The airplane and two homes were destroyed by impact forces and a postcrash fire. The personal flight was operating under the provisions of 14 Code of Federal Regulations Part 91 on an instrument flight rules flight plan. Visual meteorological conditions prevailed at the time of the accident.

Few things in aviation are more frightening to contemplate than an in-flight cabin fire, which is what the pilots of this Cessna 310 were apparently attempting to deal with. Most GA pilots don't give much consideration to what parts of the aircraft might provide a source of ignition nor how they would handle an in-flight cabin fire. As with all things in life, forewarned is forearmed and there are some important things to consider regarding in-flight fires. Contemplating the ingredients required for an in-flight fire is a good place to start, followed by knowing if your aircraft is equipped with a fire extinguisher and what type it is, inspecting the fire extinguisher during your preflight, knowing how to remove and use the fire extinguisher, and an awareness of how much time the average GA pilot might have to successfully deal an in-flight fire. To be fair, other factors in the above mentioned accident appear to involve the improper handling of inoperative equipment and circuit breakers, which I'll cover in a future installment.

This just in: To have a fire you need a source of combustible material, an ignition source that will get that material to its kindling temperature, and oxygen. A lot of things inside an aircraft will burn with the most obvious being fuel, but insulation on wiring, circuit boards, and other electrical components will combust when given the right sort of push. Heat from an engine, open flames, bleed air, and electrical sparks and resistance are all possible sources of ignition. Oxygen is widely available at no charge. Once a material reaches its kindling temperature, the source of ignition will probably no longer be required to keep the party going. Even so, the first step in fighting an in-flight fire is to remove the source of ignition. Always follow the checklist procedures in your FAA-Approved Aircraft Flight Manual, but a safe first step is to de-energize the electrical system - Turn off the battery master, alternator and/or generator.

The next step is to extinguish the fire and many, but not all GA aircraft are equipped with at least one hand-held fire extinguisher. If you own the aircraft, you probably know whether or not there's an extinguisher on board. If you are renting an unfamiliar aircraft, take the time to determine if a fire extinguisher is installed. Fire extinguishers are often located between the two front seats, but in some aircraft they are squirreled away in a weird location. Even though AC 20-42C recommends that fire extinguishers be mounted where they are readily accessible, I've seen extinguishers mounted underneath the pilot's seat and in locations that are not only inconvenient, they could be downright dangerous in an emergency when every second counts. And if you aren't following a preflight checklist that includes the fire extinguisher and you can't actually see the fire extinguisher, you're likely to forget about it. Out of sight, out of mind.

Once you've found the extinguisher, make sure it is securely held in its mounting bracket. If you are unsure how to remove the extinguisher, the preflight inspection is a good time to get familiar the process rather than during an in-flight fire. If the extinguisher is mounted in a hard-to-reach location, you may decide to remove the extinguisher to complete the next steps.

Check to see what type of extinguisher you have. Halon (halogenated hydrocarbon, a liquified gas) is the most common type for use in aircraft because it can be used on most types of fires, except when the combustible agent is a metal, such as magnesium or titanium. Halon comes in two basic varieties: 1211 and 1301. If you're interested, the four digits represent (in order from left to right) the number of carbon, fluorine, chlorine, and bromine molecules contained in the product. 1211 is a liquid streaming agent that can be projected over a distance and directed at the source of the fire while 1301 is a flooding agent that is designed to smother hard to reach fires. Some extinguishers contain a mixture of these two agents. The main advantage of Halon is that it can reach fires that you might not be able to see, like behind an instrument panel. Halon will also minimize residue left on electronic components, but fire extinguisher damage to a radio stack may be the least of your worries when the cockpit fills with smoke.

If you're worried about the in-flight effects of Halon on you, AC 120-80 advises that Halon discharged in confined spaces may result in dizziness, impaired coordination, and reduced mental sharpness. Since a fire requires a source of ignition, a source of combustible fuel, and oxygen, the goal is to remove the source of ignition, extinguish the fire and then ventilate the cabin. The effects of Halon, if any, should be short-lived if the fire is extinguished quickly and besides, you don't really have many other options.

One issue with Halon is that halogenated hydrocarbons harm the earth's ozone layer and the production or importing of Halon in the US has been prohibited since the Clean Air act went into effect in 1994 (as part of the Montreal Protocol). Though production of Halon is banned, possessing or discharging Halon is not prohibited nor is it against the law to sell a new unit or recharge an existing Halon fire extinguisher. In case you're wondering, discharging a Halon extinguisher just to test it is a really dumb idea: It's bad for the environment and it's expensive, too. In spite of the manufacturing ban, Halon continues to be available because it is recycled from used extinguisher systems. It's been estimated that about 40% of the remaining supply of Halon exists in the US, though the limited supply has certainly driven up the cost. Replacements for Halon will have to be identified eventually.

Virtually all hand-held extinguishers have a safety pin to prevent accidental discharge. Locate the pin and verify that it is in place. The safety pins will usually be held in place by a thin plastic tie that must be broken before the pin can be removed.

If the extinguisher has a pressure gauge, it should be reading in the green. Not all extinguishers have a pressure gauge in spite of the fact that this is the primary way to know if the extinguisher is operable, short of actually pulling the pin and discharging it. If the extinguisher has a service tag, check when it was last serviced and when it is next due for service. If you have removed the fire extinguisher from its bracket, you can also try this test: Note the position of the pressure indication, then turn the extinguisher upside down and right side up five times, then verify that the needle is in the same position. If the needle has moved, have the fire extinguisher serviced.

The standard method for using a fire extinguisher is often summed up with the acronym PASS: Pull the safety pin, Aim the fire extinguisher nozzle or hose at the base of the fire, Squeeze the handle, and Sweep the extinguisher's stream back and forth. This sequence may sound simplistic, but if you start squeezing the handle as you're trying to remove the safety pin, the pin may not come out freely if at all. An in-flight fire behind the instrument panel will make it impossible to accurately aim the extinguisher's stream. Some extinguishers don't have a hose, they just have a nozzle. Many fire extinguishers are marked with instructions saying that you should hold the fire extinguisher upright while discharging or you may reduce the effectiveness.

A Halon extinguisher is well-suited for situations where you can't see the source of the fire. When I used to fly freight, we had a single, large canister Halon extinguisher, equipped with a hose, and mounted between the pilot seats. Since there was no air-tight barrier between the cockpit and the freight area, the procedure for a fire in the freight hold was to 1) don the oxygen mask 2) pull the safety pin on the extinguisher 3) aim the hose back toward the freight area 4) discharge the entire contents of the extinguisher 5) declare an emergency and land as soon as possible. As always, if in doubt, follow the instruction in your aircraft's FAA-approved Flight Manual.

As for how long you have to control an in-flight fire and get on the ground in a GA aircraft, my research only uncovered survivability data for transport category aircraft. In these aircraft there was an average of 17 minutes from the first indication of a fire until the results became fatal. For smaller aircraft, one would assume that even less time would be available.

In the next installment I'll discuss recommendations for handling tripped circuit breakers and the importance of properly dealing with inoperative equipment.

Resolutions

Happy New Year!
I'm not big on New Year's resolutions and no, I haven't resolved to hike Kilimanjaro, or take a gourmet cooking course, or learn a new language. I tend to resolve to do things on a daily and weekly basis rather than every year. And who really cares what my resolutions are? I think of resolutions as being a private affair between you and your conscience. If telling others what you resolve to do will help keep you on track, then by all means do it. However you make your resolutions, here are the top five things I hope pilots out there will consider adding to their resolutions.

Radio Communication
Self-critique and then clean-up your radio phaseology. Lose the commonly used, and unnecessary words and phrases, like "roger," "with you," "clear of the active," and "any traffic in the area please advise." At the very least, resolve to say "traffic in sight" and "negative contact" in response to ATC's traffic advisories. For some inspiration on how to critique and improve your own radio performance, try reading this excellent post at the Flying Penguin about a controller's quest to identify and break his own undesirable radio communication habits.

Non-Towered Airport Operations
Review this advisory circular and the AIM, then practice what they preach. One example: Entering midfield on downwind at a non-towered airport is often taught to pilots as aiming for the middle of the runway and it's dumb, dumb, dumb. This procedure usually ends up with you entering the downwind leg exactly where other aircraft will be turning crosswind to downwind. Instead, aim for the arrival end of the runway, you'll enter downwind at midfield, and we'll all breathe a little easier.

Handle Your Aircraft with Care
Okay, it might not actually be your aircraft, but you're the pilot-in-command, right? Nothing is more unprofessional than mistreating an aircraft and if you tend to be ham-handed, the first step is recognizing it. Why are you slamming the doors, man-handling the controls, and moving the throttle and mixture like you're playing a video game? None of this is necessary and breaking things will only increase your cost of flying. If the engine needs oil, add some oil. Oil is cheap, engine overhauls and forced landings are expensive. Don't leave your oily paper towel in the seat pocket! You're not doing the next pilot a favor, nobody wants your oily rag, and it's a fire hazard. Walk to the trash can and throw it away. When your flight is completed, take your stuff with you including your trash (and any trash left behind by the last pilot). Instead of hurrying away from the aircraft as if it were about to explode, clean the windshield, install the control lock, lock the doors and secure the plane. You may not think any of this matters, but other pilots are watching and assessing your behavior. Do the right thing and set a good example.

Get a Preflight Briefing
Don't just "get the weather," get an official briefing through FSS, DUAT, DUATS or another approved source. It's not easy, but carefully read the Notices to Airmen that affect your flight. Check for Temporary Flight Restrictions, too. This is an investment in your own safety as well as the safety of your passengers and everyone else.

Get Regular Recurrent Training
One of the safety factors that distinguishes commercial aircraft operations from GA is recurrent training. If it's been a while since you did some training with an instructor, it's time. You can do the Wings program, do practice approaches with another pilot or an instructor, get some instruction in a simulator, or design your own recurrent training program. Recurrent training should also include a review of relevant rules and regulations, aircraft systems, and emergency procedures. If you don't already do so, subscribe to one of the many excellent aviation publications out there. Some, like Callback and the NTSB site are free.

Best wishes to all for a safe, prosperous, and productive New Year!

Failure of Imagination

Pilots are trained to trust their instruments, follow accepted procedures, and maintain situational awareness, but these elements don't guarantee safe results. One model of risk analysis and management puts forth the "swiss cheese" model, originally proposed by British psychologist James Reason in the 1990s.

The idea behind the "swiss cheese" model is that safety barriers we use are not perfect. Holes exist in the equipment, procedures and techniques that we use. Rather than having a static position, it's useful to imagine the holes in each safety barrier as constantly shifting. Should a sequence of holes in each of our safety barriers align, our risk has just increased and here's the important part, we may not even be aware of it. When we pilots rely on multiple systems and procedures to mediate risk, we are assuming that multiple barriers will reduce the likelihood that risk will permeate all of the barriers and cause an accident.

With all this in mind, here is the third and final part of the video series on how disaster was adverted by an alert Air New Zealand flight crew.



For GA pilots in single-pilot operations, our first safety defense is a preflight briefing that includes weather information and NOTAMs (Notices to Airmen). The holes in this first barrier are many and may include a lack of surface weather observations at our intended destination or the simple fact that forecasts are imperfect. Another big hole is reading and digesting NOTAMs, which can be a complicated and error-prone process. Deciphering the abbreviations used in NOTAMs is a skill that can require time and practice. Yet if you skip the preflight briefing altogether or just "get the weather," you have effectively taken this barrier out of the picture and significantly increased the risks associated with your flight.

The second safety barrier is the go/no-go decision. Remember that light GA aircraft are much more vulnerable to hazardous weather due to their inherently low performance, slow speed, and lack of weather detection capability. If the preflight briefing suggests significantly nasty weather, stay on the ground. If you gloss over the go/no-go decision and commit yourself to flight, your life could become very complicated, very quickly. If you are loath to stay on the ground for fear that it will make you less of an aviator, get some serious couch time with a mental health professional.

The third safety barrier for GA pilots is a careful preflight inspection of the aircraft. The older the aircraft, the more holes you're likely to find in this safety barrier. I wouldn't be the first person to point out that there is a strong tension between keeping aviation affordable and maintaining safety. Maintenance is expensive and it's no secret that some owners skimp on maintenance. If you have doubts about the aircraft or a piece of installed equipment, especially if that equipment is critical to your flight, the choice is simple - Find a mechanic, find another plane, or stay on the ground.

The last safety barrier is the GA pilot himself or herself and all the intangible elements that each of us embodies. Are you current and proficient? When did you last fly the aircraft type you are about to fly? Are you familiar with the route and destination? Have you been there before? Did you get enough sleep last night? If the flight conditions will be challenging, are you up to the task? Are you prepared for moderate turbulence, heavy rain, a possible icing encounter, or a strong crosswind? Is another pilot going to be flying with you and can they take on some of the load? How about your passengers? If they get scared or airsick, can you handle the distraction? Do you have a plan B and a plan C?

Lack of familiarity with an aircraft's electronic navigation system can contribute to tragic results, as evidenced by the mid-air collision of a Boeing 737 and a Embraer Legacy jet over the Amazon in 2006. If you haven't already done so, I recommend reading William Langewiesche's Vanity Fair article which vividly describes the breech of several safety barriers - appropriate altitude for direction of flight, ATC conflict resolution, Traffic Collision Avoidance System, and crew situational awareness.

An increasingly popular way to handle the risk of complex avionics systems is standardized, recurrent training. This approach emphasizes eliminating errors, procedural violations and variations, or dangerous behavior on the part of pilots. Professor Reason refers to this as the person approach and the main goal is to eliminate variations in human behavior. At its best, standardized training creates another barrier of safety. At it's worst, this sort of training can emphasize heavy-handed, orthodox principals - "Never use the Direct-to button!" or "Always set the heading bug with your right hand!" are just two examples. I respect and appreciate standardized training, but standardized procedures can't cover every eventuality. That's where imagination comes in.

Imagination allows pilots to conceive of where they are in space, what they need to do next, and how certain choices or changes might affect the flight. At its worst, imagination can lead pilots to make incorrect assumptions to incorrectly explain something that doesn't seem quite right, as seen in the video above.

Flying in moderate or greater turbulence can be distracting, especially during an approach to landing. Assuming a pilot understands the effects and dangers of windshear, I encourage them to imagine how they'd fly the plane in smooth air and then do their best to make what is happening in real-time match up with their idealized flight. This use of imagination gives the pilot a specific outcome to strive for, rather than being at the mercy of the elements. Imagination can backfire, too. A few years back, I flew with a very intelligent pilot whose quick thinking and imagination sometimes led him to jump to incorrect conclusions and talk himself into all sorts of situations.

The G1000 provides an excellent example of a system intended to improve pilot safety through increased situational awareness and navigational accuracy. Used properly, the G1000 can provide exactly what it advertises. Yet the G1000 is it not particularly easy to use. It requires thorough initial training to gain proficiency and more than just occasional use to maintain that proficiency. In my experience, GA pilots who fly infrequently or on an irregular schedule are more apt to become confused or task saturated when using the G1000.

Hard to use systems, with numerous options, and several ways to accomplish the same function may seem flexible, but just as often the multitude of options simply increases a pilot's workload, effectively increases the number of holes in what is supposed to be a safety barrier. At critical phases of flight, poorly designed systems can lead to task saturation as the lone pilot tries to figure out "Why is it doing that?" or "How do I get it to do what I want?" Standardized training alone will not solve this problem.

This brings us back to imagination. A good pilot can imagine all sorts of possible problems that could scrub a flight or make a flight more difficult to complete. Imagination helps us consider a situation where we're behind the plane or where the GPS doesn't function properly. Imagination helps us realize that we might not be proficient, that we need some recurrent training. I'm all for optimism, but a pilot who always assumes everything will be just fine suffers from the worst possible lack of imaginiation - the kind of imagination that can keep all those holes in all those barriers from aligning.

Complex Problems

The vast majority of pilots currently flying for the airlines received their training in a civilian setting, though that wasn't always the case. The usual route to the airlines is to earn your various certificates (either under part 61 or part 141), then decide whether to become a flight instructor or find another way to build the required hours to apply for a professional flying job. Some pilots become instructors and many of these folks provide quality instruction while building hours. Other pilots choose to build flight time through towing banners, flying traffic watch, performing pipeline patrol, or doing aerial survey work.

One thing that these U.S. pilots have in common is that they all earned a commercial pilot certificate and when they took that commercial check ride, it was in a complex aircraft, defined in 14 CFR 61 as an airplane that has a retractable landing gear, flaps, and a controllable pitch propeller or, in the case of a seaplane, flaps and a controllable pitch propeller. The problem is that finding a complex aircraft to train in is getting harder and harder. There are several reasons why this is the case.

There are only a handful of piston engine complex aircraft still being manufactured and the Piper Arrow the only complex trainer I know of that is still in production. Many large part 141 flight schools use Beech Bonanzas and some flight schools use twin-engine aircraft (more on this later). Otherwise, a potential commercial pilot candidate is left to choose from a selection of older Mooney, Cessna, and Beech aircraft that make up the aging fleet of complex trainer aircraft still in service.

One reason that few manufacturers want to produce a complex trainer is that many owners and operators know that maintenance and insurance costs are higher for retractable gear aircraft. And then there are those unintentional gear-up landings. New aircraft manufacturers like Diamond, Cirrus and Cessna (nee Columbia) rely on the simplicity and low operating costs of a fixed landing gear coupled with aerodynamically efficient airframe designs to sell aircraft. A fixed gear reduces the cost for periodic inspections, maintenance, and insurance, but it leaves aspiring commercial pilots, flight instructor candidates, and the instructors who train these pilots with fewer and fewer options.

Some flight schools and pilots get around this problem by earning their initial commercial or instructor certificate in a multi-engine aircraft, which allows them to do a single-engine add-on to that certificate in a fixed-gear aircraft. With the rising cost of fuel, this alternative is less attractive, but often the only option available. And guess what? The aging fleet of multi-engine trainers is in the same sorry state as the fleet of complex singles. Again, there is really only one light multi-engine trainer aircraft currently in production: The Piper Seminole.

One solution to this problem would be for the FAA to provide some relief by redefining complex aircraft for the purposes of training toward a Commercial Airplane Single-Engine certificate so that it includes certain fixed-gear aircraft with constant-speed propellers. This would vastly increase the number of available trainers, but I'm not sure anyone at the FAA is listening or willing. Without some sort of relief, the shortage of complex single and multi-engine aircraft will only worsen, leaving aspiring professional pilots out in the cold.

For another illustration of increasing complexity, you don't have to look any further than the G1000. I recently helped the owner of a G1000-equipped aircraft comply with a service bulletin that requires the testing of the Course and Baro knobs. Most everyone who does G1000 transition training wonders why the folks at Garmin designed the course and barometric pressure setting knobs so that they were concentric. These two functions, course and altimeter setting, have absolutely nothing to do with one another, so the reason must have been one of economics or the result of a committee decision.

Whatever the genesis, the design is really unfortunate and this particular service bulletin arose because some of these concentric knobs were failing in a subtle way: Setting the altimeter or adjusting the course in an affected G1000 unit could cause unwanted movement of the other setting. As my mom used to say "You've buttered your bread, now you can sleep in it."

If owning and maintaining a G1000-equipped aircraft weren't complicated enough, a recent instrument candidate I recommended was chided for not having memorized the model numbers of each and every component that makes up the G1000 system. This candidate was also told they should have known how each unit communicated with the others. My reaction was "Is this pilot supposed to demonstrate that they can fly a G1000-equipped aircraft or are they supposed to be able to fix it?" And where does this level of minutiae stop being useful? Is it sufficient to know that the units are connected with an ethernet network or should a candidate be able to describe the data packets that are exchanged, whether or not the packets are acknowledged, and what the bit ordering scheme is?

The FAA's flight instructor material describes four levels of learning, from lowest to highest:

• Rote
  
• Understanding
  
• Application
  
• Correlation
  

The various Practical Test Standards published by the FAA say that flight instructors are to train their candidates to the higher levels of knowledge - application or correlation. Memorizing the model numbers of the G1000 components is clearly the lowest level of knowledge, but it's also the easiest to test: You either know the letters and numbers or you don't.

Asking someone to explain how the various G1000 components play together would seem to be testing a higher level of knowledge, but on closer examination this is really of little use once you are airborne. When a G1000 component fails or misbehaves in flight, there is little the pilot can do other than maintain control of the aircraft, land, and let an avionics technician replace one or more of the pricey LRUs (line-replaceable units).

One thing Garmin could do to reduce complexity would be to redesign the G1000's MFD status display so that it would describe each LRU with a plain English name. Rather than demanding that a candidate know the model number of the G1000 air data computer, examiners could ask about real world scenarios, like what would your PFD look like if the air data computer failed.

If something isn't done to manage this complexity in an intelligent and useful way, pilots will be forced to learn more and more useless trivia and safety will be compromised. Some say that it already has.

Spice Island

Today's flight was to be the last one and would allow the airplane's owner to meet his insurance requirements for dual instruction. Our destination was Point Salines International Airport in Grenada with the contingency plan being a second, shorter VFR tour of Montserrat if we needed to log a bit more dual. I forgot to install the rechargable battery in my camera, which was still in the charger at the hotel, so no pictures on this trip.

We departed V.C. Bird after backtracking on the runway. I was aware that a British Airways flight was inbound to the airport, the tower asked us to expedite, but there was only so much we could do: The runway is nearly 9000 feet long and we entered the runway very near the departure end. As usual, the tower gave us our clearance as we were backtracking on the runway. I can't imagine why this is the standard procedure at so many airports in this area. I even heard a Liat Q400 that was holding short for landing traffic ask if their clearance was available. The tower just didn't seem to understand that it would be much safer if the IFR clearance was given while their aircraft was standing still.

About a third of the way down the runway, the tower told us to turn around abeam taxiway alpha and we were cleared for takeoff. As the airplane's owner turned the plane around, I asked the tower "say available takeoff distance from taxiway alpha." There was several seconds of silence, then they responded 1200 meters. I did an approximate conversion to feet and satisfied there was room, we started the takeoff roll.

About 30 miles from Guadeloupe, Raizet Approach offered us direct to GND (the Grenada VOR). We accepted immediately because our ground speed was a miserable 123 knots. It was obvious that we had a nasty headwind and the shortcut would save us some time. This provided a good opportunity to review the Garmin 530's winds aloft calculator and sure enough, we had a 30 plus knot wind, pretty much on the nose. But direct GND also took us away from Guadeloupe and I think the controller knew he was doing us another favor: There were several towering cumulonimbus clouds over the island and I wasn't excited at the prospect of flying near them.

I have enjoyed working with the French-speaking air traffic controllers of La Raziet and Martinique Approach. Sometimes their accent combines my unfamiliarity with the local navigation fixes and names to produce confusion, but the thing I like about them is that they are professional, polite, and cordial: Good traits in an air traffic controller. They also have radar, which seems to be in short supply in the Eastern Caribbean.

We were told by the Point Salines approach controller to report the island in sight for a visual approach, but we asked for the full VOR/DME runway 10 approach for training purposes. Not a problem, we were just asked to report turning outbound on the approach. The airplane's owner did a nice job flying a partial panel approach, complete with procedure turn. We landed with a stiff crosswind and made our way to parking.



Ground handling had been arranged by the airplane's owner and everything went smoothly. The fuel was expensive - $6.89US/gallon and only cash was accepted. We went through customs, paid the landing fee, got out outbound gendec stamped, filed the flight plan, and had time for a quick bite to eat.

Grenada is known as the Spice Island (not to be confused with the Spice Islands of New Guinea) because its economy is predominantly agricultural with the principal exports being nutmeg, cocoa, bananas and sugar cane. Tourism is also very important to the island and that drove the construction of their airport on the most obstruction free area of an otherwise hilly landscape. On the ramp I saw an Ameriflight metroliner and I must say they seem to be everywhere down here: Amost every island I've visited in the Carribean had an Ameriflight plane of some sort or another.

On departure, I asked ground if we could "fly the circuit" once (perform a touch and go) and then depart for V.C. Bird. He said he had our request and approved us to backtrack on the runway. We did our run-up in position (I'm still not comfortable with this practice) then said we were ready to depart. He cleared us for takeoff and cleared us for a touch and go. Wow! Familiar phraseology!

On the crosswind turn, I chopped the left throttle to simulate an engine failure and the airplane's owner brought us around for a simulated single-engine landing. We still didn't have our clearance to V.C. Bird, so we knew we'd have to copy it while airborne. The controller had not given us any departure instructions, so we turned crosswind and headed south-ish. Sure enough, we were
"cleared to V.C. Bird via Amber 324 FOF Amber 312 ANU direct, climb to level 090, maintain VFR until reaching level 040, report passing level 040 and joining the airway."

During the climb-out, we discussed a low instrument pressure reading we had noticed. This plane uses positive pressure instead of vacuum pressure to power the gyroscopic attitude indicator and HSI. The pressure was reading low and in the yellow. There are two engine-driven pressure pumps - one on the right engine and the other on the left. The pump failure indicator for each pump was not showing, so we weren't sure what was going on. The good news was that the HSI and attitude indicator were behaving normally, so we decided to continue and troubleshoot on the ground at V.C. Bird. We also discussed the dangers of getting distracted by a minor issue while airborne. If it ain't broke, don't mess with it.

Slow ground speed on the way down ended up making that leg over three hours long. Now it seemed we might be able to log another 3 hours or and satisfy the insurance requirements, but with the wind now on our tail we'd need to slow down. So back came the throttle to 18 inches of manifold pressure. We were still going 156 knots across the ground, so we reduced power to 16 inches and slowed us to 145 knots. Looking at our projected arrival time, we worried that might still be too fast.

Handed off to Martinque Approach, we were offered direct ANU. We asked to stay on our current routing "for training purposes" and the controller approved. They asked us to climb to level 100 and that's when we entered intermittent rain and began to see some darker clouds ahead covered by a high level cloud shield. The next controller was Raizet Approach and I remembered that the forecast for Guadelope and V.C. Bird had called for thundershowers during a vague, 12 hour period. As we got closer to Guadeloupe, we began to make out the outlines of a large build-up over the island and asked to divert 20 degrees to the left. After deviating about 10 miles, we thought we might be able to proceed direct to a fix on the FIR (Flight Information Region) boundary. When we rounded the first build-up, another cell came into view and it looked like there might be cells forming over Antigua, too.

Through the worst of it, we asked to descend and were transferred to V.C. Bird approach. They gave us a descent to 2500 feet and told us to join the 12 mile DME arc for runway 07 and report established. It looked dark and ominous to the west, but the 12 mile arc was mostly clear with light rain. Established, we were cleared to land with two other aircraft behind us. One of them didn't want to do the 12 mile arc because of the weather, but the conditions weren't that bad.

The plan was to do a no-flaps landing, land long, and make the right turn off toward the end of the runway. On final, I saw an aircraft only 2 miles away on a right base - the one that didn't want to fly the arc. This was going to be close. I asked the tower for a long landing with a right turn onto the "disused runway." They approved and we touched down about 1/3 of the way down the runway and hustled to make the turnoff. We cleared just as the other aircraft was approaching the threshold.

After we were parked, we noted that we had logged just the right amount of insurance mandated flight hours. We shutdown the left engine while watching the instrument pressure. As the left engine stopped, the pressure dropped to zero and both of the left and right pump failure indicators were displayed. It was clear the right engine's instrument pressure pump was probably dead. The check valve between the two pumps might also be suspect or the left pump might just be weak. Happily, there's an excellent mechanic on the field.

We'd seen weather delays, mechanical problems, and bad weather. We'd learned a lot about ICAO flight plans, local radio phraseology and procedures, and the gendec paperwork. I traveled to 8 different island nations in just over a week. Most importantly, the owner is now current and proficient and should get plenty of utility out of his airplane.

Before bidding the Duchess goodbye, I walked around and wiped down the engine cowlings with some wax and paper towels. I'd logged a lot of hours in this plane and have seen her through some difficult times. It's strange how you can get attached to an aircraft and though this trip turned out to be a lot longer that planned, I have to admit I'll miss her. After checking out with the ground handlers, I turned around and gave one long, last look at the Duchess of Antigua.

Grounded!

This morning we confirm that the starter bendix on the right engine is toast. I helped a local mechanic remove the right engine cowling to inspect the starter and then remove it. He tried in vain to locate a replacement starter bendix at one of the two sources on the island, but no dice. The right engine is counter-rotating, so quickly locating a replacement bendix is unlikely.



The aircraft owner called the previous maintenance shop in California and it turns out they had ordered two starters for the right engine quite a while back by mistake. They still had one sitting on the shelf. The odds of that are too mind-boggling to calculate. They agreed to ship it overnight priority.

Overnight doesn't mean the same thing here as it does elsewhere. For one, the package will have to clear customs which means the starter probably won't arrive until Thursday, possibly as late as Friday morning, maybe not until Monday. I am scheduled to head back on an airline flight in a few days. I'd like to stay longer, but we've been on the road for three weeks now. It's been a wonderful trip and a great adventure, but there are things we have to attend to at home, bills to pay, and I need a haircut!

Since the plane is grounded, we locate an Elite simulator at a local flight school and arrange to rent it. I am very familiar with the Elite software, so I figure this should be a piece of cake. We'll do some holds and a partial panel approach or two. This should make good use of the time, but the simulator turns out to be flaky - the flight controls and the avionics stack periodically seem to loose power and that wreaks havoc with the Elite software. We muddle through a few procedures before calling it quits.

Since the Duchess has a Garmin 530/430 setup, we switch to using the Garmin 530 PC simulator to talk about missed approach procedures, ad hoc holds, and various other Garmin gotchas. After half a day, we've completed about all we can do without the actual aircraft. Hopefully the plane will be back in shape for a flight on Thursday afternoon, maybe two flights on Friday, and perhaps one more on Saturday.

For now, we wait.

Taxi to Parking

Today's flight was a roundtrip to Trinidad and it was a long one. Our goal was to log more flight time with less time pushing paper around though Immigration, Customs, ... We also needed to log an RNAV approach and Piarco International Airport seemed to fit the bill.



The trip down was a lesson in dodging build-ups. Most of the clouds were not too high, but they tended to be right in the middle of our route since there's often more lifting action over land and that's where the VORs are located. We were flying IFR and could have legally penetrated any of these clouds, but the airplane's owner will soon be flying non-pilot friends around and the object is to provide as smooth a ride a possible.

Most of the higher cloud tops appeared to be at 9000 to 10,000 feet and we were flying at 7000 feet. So we went through a couple of them to see what it was like. Some were benign and others contained some serious bumps. One way to predict how bumpy the ride might be inside a cloud is to look at how well-defined the edges of the cloud appear. If the cloud looks like cauliflower and the edges are distinct, look out! Another predictor of turbulence is the extent of the vertical development - the higher the cloud, the greater the lifting action and turbulence it contains.

Deviating around nasty clouds is easy. If I need to deviate less than 10 degrees or so for just a mile, I don't bother asking ATC. If I need to deviate more or for a longer distance, I tell ATC that I need to deviate left or right, the number of degrees of heading change, and provide an estimate of how many miles before I can go back on course. It's really pretty easy, but some pilots I've flown with are reluctant to ask. It's like making announcements on the common traffic advisory frequency at a non-towered airport: Pilots who are filled with bravado suddenly become shy.

For about 100 miles or so during the southern third of our trip it appeared there was no radar contact from ATC. We were asked to make several position reports along the way and the reply light on our transponder seldom flashed until a few minutes before were handed off to Piarco Approach.



The skies were hazy on the approach into Piarco and we had to penetrate some clouds before turning final. The airplane's owner stayed under the hood because the visibility on final was pretty good. He flew a good RNAV approach and did a nice landing.



The tower told us initially to turn left, which was toward the big terminal. Then, before we had turned, he changed his mind and asked us to turn right, toward the GA side of the airport. That was the way we were expecting to go. But just when I thought I'd seen everything, something new and unexpected crops up. The tower controller eventually brought us back to the runway and had us cross to the side where the main terminal is located. "Taxi via alpha, alpha one, hold short at Oscar, contact ramp services on ..." Well this was going to be interesting.

Ramp services told us to taxi to Gate 6, so we did. We stopped well short of the jetway so we could do a 180 degree turn and taxi out on our own power when it was time to leave. There was no one to marshal us in, but shortly after engine shut down, a gentleman appeared to assist us. We hadn't arranged a "handler" which is something you need to do at all major airports in the Caribbean since they are not set up to handle paperwork for smaller aircraft.



Heraman agreed to act as our handler, but warned us there would be a $250US fee. We had read about this and the aircraft's owner was prepared. We had also read that Trinidad requires 5 copies of inbound gendec paperwork, but it turned out they wanted 7 copies. For outbound gendec paperwork, they want a staggering 9 copies. But before we could deal with that, we had to visit the health office.

There was a lot of loud talking in the health office, much of it directed at us. They asked me if I had sprayed the aircraft and confused, I said no. The Boss there looked very frustrated and asked me again "Did you spray the aircraft before landing?" I assured The Boss that I hadn't and that I didn't understand what he was talking about.

The Boss stomped over to a cabinet, opened it, and it was filled with a hundred or so small yellow spray cans. He took one and handed it to me. "Our laws require you to spray the inside of the aircraft before landing." Then he turned to Heraman and said "You should not have brought them inside! We are supposed to meet them at the aircraft!" While he was berating Heraman, I looked at the can. It was insecticide - permethrin. The otherwise excellent Caribbean Pilot's Guide had made no mention of this requirement and perhaps it is fairly new.

Another gentleman was dispatched by The Boss to accompany us back to the plane. We opened the baggage compartment door and he sprayed the can inside the plane. Then I had to write a few words and sign each of the five pages of our inbound gendec saying that the plane had been sprayed and that neither of us was ill. While this was going on, an American Airlines jet was pushing from Gate 5 and I just had to get a picture.



The spraying accomplished, we returned to the health office and The Boss seemed satisfied and sent us on to immigration. We stood around in the office while the officials decided what to do with us. They looked at our gendecs, asked Heraman some questions, looked us up and down, asked Heraman some more questions, looked at our passports and pilot certificates. They then turned to a gentleman I assumed to be a senior official (he was wearing a pilot's shirt with captain's bars) and asked him some questions. He looked at me with a withering gaze, but I just returned his gaze in a calm, respectful manner. After this 10 second stare-down, he said something in a language or dialect I couldn't recognize and one of the women began stamping each of our inbound gendecs.

Heraman led us next to the main terminal area where the airplane's owner paid the landing fees. Heraman had some other paperwork to run down, so he said we could get something to eat in the adjacent food court and that he'd meet us there in 20 minutes. We sauntered over to a Starbucks imitation store, got a snack and sat down to relax. I glanced out the window and there was the Duchess sitting at Gate 6. I hoped that no one needed to use Gate 6. It appeared we would be there for at least another 20 minutes. I checked the departures/arrivals screen, but was saddened to see we weren't listed as occupying Gate 6.



We eventually made it back to the south side of the field, bought 250 liters of 100 LL fuel, and prepared to depart. The left engine started without a hitch, but the right engine's starter just went "whirrrrrr!" and the prop didn't move. $%@#! It was clear the starter bendix drive was on its last legs, but I was bound and determined to not spend the night in Trinidad.

I asked the owner to shutdown the left engine and ensure the master and mags for both sides were off. I got out of the aircraft and, with extreme care, I pulled the left prop through one half of a turn and asked the owner to try the right engine start again. "Whirrrrrr!" Double $@&*! With the mags and master off, I again turned the prop one more half revolution. When the owner tried the starter again, it engaged and he was able to get the right engine started. Phew!

I climbed back in, we started the left engine, got our clearance, and soon were winging our way to V.C. Bird as the sun set. But I was concerned about the next day. Knowing the right starter was suspect and that the right engine is a counter-rotating, a replacement starter would be hard to locate. We have more training to do, but I was wary about any more flying until this issue was addressed.

Yes, maintenance happens even in paradise.

Blast Off!

After nearly ten full days of delay, the planets align and we're able to depart Frank Zappa's ancestral haunts and resume the ferry flight.

Goin' back home
To the Village of the Sun
Out in back of Palmdale
Where the turkey farmers run, I done
Made up my mind
And I know I'm gonna go to Sun
Village, good God I hope the
Wind don't blow

It take the paint off your car
And wreck your windshield too,
I don't know how the people stand it,
But I guess they do
Cause they're all still there,
Even Johnny Franklin too
In the Village of the Sun ...

Yes, the late Frank Zappa hailed from (or at least attended high school) in the Antelope Valley.

Ten days is not that long when you consider that we effectively lost four days to the Memorial Day weekend. Again, a big debt of gratitude to Juan, Bruce, and the entire staff at Exodus Air for helping us solve a very nagging problem with the engine gauge cluster. And thanks to Jeff at High Desert Avionics for handling some needed changes to the gauge's wiring harness in a timely and elegant fashion.

During the days of delay, we found time to explore the AV and I have two recommendations for dining: Karen's Kitchen Too in Palmdale makes a great breakfast (cash only, no credit cards). Tina's Ristorante Italiano in Lancaster has some of the best pasta, chicken, and fish dishes I've ever had, which is saying something when you consider I practically live on top of the Berkeley "Gourmet Ghetto."

We also took time to visit the Medfly Basenji Rescue in Acton. After the death of our basenji Hunter a few months ago, we can't help but miss the presence of toenails clicking across the floor and we had the pleasure of meeting not only Karen and Chuck, but several wonderful basenji who could be available for adoption by just the right people. It's seldom I meet people with hearts so big. The Medfly Basenji Rescue is a qualified non-profit and donations are needed and greatly appreciated. Think about it ...

Returning to Frank Zappa:

Little Mary, and Teddy, and Thelma too, now
Where Palmdale Boulevard, wo!
Cuts on through
Past the Village Inn, well, & Barbecue now, yeah
(I heard it ain't there . . .
Well I hope it ain't true)
Where the stumblers gonna go
To watch the lights turn blue?

Try as we might, we couldn't find the Village Inn on Palmdale Boulevard, so maybe it isn't there any more after all. But after four plus hours of flying (with a stop for fuel in Tucson), we did find a Village Inn in the West Texas town where we landed tonight. We wanted to get an early start tomorrow, but we lost an hour with the time zone shift and endured over two hours of continuous light chop and occasional moderate turbulence. We might need to sleep in a bit.

Waiting Game

The fascinating thing about maintenance delays in aviation is how so many other things can be affected. I'm waiting for a replacement part that was due to arrive today, but should now arrive tomorrow. If the part arrives and the replacement goes as planned, we'll launch tomorrow at mid-day. If ...

This gives me plenty of time to ponder some other issues. With all the delays, one of my VFR sectional charts has expired. All of the Airport/Facility Directories and Terminal Procedures will expire in a 6 days or so. And the Jepp databases in the two GPS units will expire by then, too. One would think that I'll be through those areas before these things expire. As they say in the world of investing "past performance is no guarantee of future results."

I pass some of the time by looking at the current weather and the forecast charts. The thunderstorm potential is much higher traveling through the southern and southeastern states. There are prog features that California pilots seldom have to concern themselves with, like the dry line that has been dancing back and forth, east then west, in west Texas for the last few days. I've watched the Nexrad images for the Gulf Coast states, seeing light precipitation build into a full-blown thunderstorm in little more that an hour. We may get stuck on the ground as we transit some of the territory ahead and one can only hope we'll be able to find a hangar (if necessary) and maybe some barbeque.

Other, more mundane parts of our planning have begun to be affected. The fresh fruit that we brought for the trip has either been consumed or has spoiled. We're going to need to do some laundry soon. And pilots to whom I give instruction have begun emailing me asking when I'll be back.

If only we knew ...

Cluster's Last Stand

Turns out my previous post was too optimistic. The engine gauge cluster, after being bench tested, failed again once it was installed in the aircraft with new, shorter mounting screws. So we're waiting for another cluster to arrive and with the Memorial Day weekend upon us, the wait will be longer that we'd like.

But this all may have been a blessing in disguise. The weather in SoCal has been unusual for late May, to say the least. With thunderstorms, hail, tornadoes, snow and high winds, I wouldn't have departed with the weather being reported along our proposed route and our alternate routes.

We've made a short detour to San Diego to visit relatives for a couple of days, hoping we'll be able to continue the trip the middle of next week.

With fingers crossed, we wait ...

A Screw Loose

After several maintenance-related delays I was able to complete a couple of shakedown flights and we departed Oakland under foggy skies early in the morning on the first of many legs of a trip to ferry an aircraft. Though I have never owned an aircraft and probably never will, I think biggest problem aircraft owners face is maintenance. Sure fuel is expensive and it can be tough to find time to fly and maintain proficency, but it's the nagging maintenance issues that eventually lead most aircraft owners and airplanes to divorce. "You can make anything fly if you have enough money," or so the old saw says, but money alone won't cut it.

Finding a great aircraft mechanic can be tough, but once you find one you should consider yourself blessed. There are a lot of good mechanics out there, but one of the differences between a good mechanic and a great mechanic is that you have to hold the good mechanic's hand, cajole them, remind them, and double-check that what you asked to be done has indeed been done. A good mechanic will keep your plane safe to fly and a great mechanic will treat your plane like it was their own. And I think there are many good mechanics out there who could be or would be great mechanics, but they've been beaten down by too many cheapskate aircraft owners and 30 year old aircraft. Harsh words, I know, but true. Yet even with a great mechanic and plenty of money you'll find that unexpected things happen. Expensive things.

Oakland was reporting instrument conditions for our departure, but the skies were clear just to the east. Some pilots file an IFR-to-VFR-on-top flight plan in these situations. Non-instrument rated pilots either wait for the conditions to improve or attempt to fly just under the clouds in hopes of reaching VFR conditions. If you're not instrument-rated, I recommend waiting rather than scud-running. Not wanting to delay our departure and not being interested in scud-running, I filed an IFR flight plan to Tracy, just to the east.

We departed Oakland, punched into the clouds at 1,000 feet, broke out at 2,200 feet, and were given a turn to the east and a climb to 4000 feet. Reaching 3,000 feet, we were in Class Bravo and being clear of the clouds, I cancelled IFR and changed our VFR destination to an airport over 250 miles to the southeast. We had a nice tailwind, blue skies, and an early start.

Since I'll eventually be acting as pilot-in-command outside the U.S. for part of the trip, I needed a new pilot certificate (pilots in the U.S. are not licensed, they're certificated) with the ICAO-required "English Proficient" designation. This is something I decided to take care of well before I knew that I'd be doing this trip. My first attempt resulted in the FAA sending me a certificate that listed the wrong date for my birthday. It took some doing, but I finally got a corrected version.

I had never held an FCC Restricted Radiotelephone Operator Permit because I've never piloted an aircraft outside the U.S. So I navigated the FCC's website and eventually figured out how to get the permit. Once I knew what I was looking for, it was surprisingly easy to obtain and everything was handled on line. In less than 10 days, I had my permit in hand. The aircraft's owner obtained the FCC radio station license for the aircraft and two more things were checked off my list.

A quick bit of internet shopping before our departure and I was the proud owner of about 30 pounds of navigation charts, terminal procedures, and airport facility directories - enough to cover my route and then some, just in case a diversion is required.

A few days before our departure, the aircraft's owner shipped all the necessary survival equipment for the over-water flights: Life jackets, life raft, GPS personal locator beacon, waterproof hand-held radio, signal flares, and emergency rations. This entailed a bunch more reading and research to be prepared for the unlikely event of a water ditching. Here are some amusing tidbits.

Maintain protection from the elements as much as possible. Keep your clothing on even if it's hot. Rest as much as you can, especially in the hot part of the day. Exercise daily in your limited space by isotonically flexing muscles and wiggling fingers and toes. Be optimistic and keep a sense of humor.

Normally, sharks may investigate your raft and go away without bothering you. Do not dangle hands and/or feet in the water or dispose of raw vomit or body wastes in the water since these may attract and excite sharks. Plastic bag (if possible) vomit and/or body wastes and throw them away from the raft.

But it will be a while before we're "feet wet" - flying over water - because shortly after our first fuel stop, some engine gauges quit working. We'd been flying straight and level for about 5 minutes when I noticed the gauges said the left fuel tank was empty, we had no fuel pressure, no oil pressure, no oil temperature, ...

I glanced out the window at the left engine and it was right where we'd left it, it wasn't on fire, and it was running as smoothly as ever. However, the circuit breaker for the left engine gauges had tripped. We continued on course while I waited for the breaker to cool off, then I tried resetting it. It wouldn't reset and immediately popped back out as soon as I let go.

The best choice was to return to our last stop and hope it would be an easy fix. The mechanics determined the likely cause of the electrical short. I discussed the situation with the aircraft's owner, we devised a repair strategy and everything should be airworthy by tomorrow. Sure we lost a day and a half with this problem, but it would have been a lot longer were it not for Juan and Bruce at Exodus Air Service, who basically dropped what they were doing to troubleshoot my problem.

Ah, the glamour of flying!

Straighten Up and Fly Right

U.S. airport identifiers start with a K, so we enter KOAK in the GPS for Oakland.

But on the chart it just says OAK.

I know, but the GPS thinks that is the ID for the Oakland VOR, so we use the ICAO standard KOAK to refer to the airport.

Okay, so Tyler Municipal Airport is listed on the chart as T74, but we enter it in the GPS as KT74, right?

Oh, I forgot to mention that when a U.S. airport ID contains numbers, you don't prefix it with a K.

That's ridiculous! Why is there such an inconsistent convention for something so basic as an aiport's ID?

I don't know, these conventions grew up over time and now it's just the way it is.

This was just one of many exchanges between me and my wife as I prepared her to be my pinch-hitter on an upcoming cross-country flight. She's flown with me before on long trips, but it's been a while. And though she's not a pilot, she's a fast learner and is eager to assist. Helping her understand the basics of VFR charts has really underscored in my mind how hard-to-use these charts can be. At least U.S. charts are consistently hard-to-use. When we got to the charts that covered the area outside the U.S., things got really interesting.

This upcoming cross-country flight will be the longest one I've ever done and the primary purpose is to ferry an aircraft to its owner. My wife is coming along for the adventure and because she doesn't like the idea of me flying alone and without an autopilot for several days in a row. I'll be relying on her occasionally to keep the plane straight and level while I attend to some in-flight chores, to help locate the appropriate charts, to keep an eye on the handheld GPS with it's XM weather display, and to help program the panel-mounted Garmin 530 and 430 GPS receivers. We also cover in-flight emergencies, the aircraft checklist, and what she'll need to do in the unlikely event that I become incapacitated.

We covered the Garmin 530/430 knobology and while she made the usual beginner's missteps she became adept at the basics of setting communication and navigation frequencies, locating information on the nearest airports, and entering and modifying a flight plan. "Why do they make this stuff so hard to use?" she asked and I again I don't have a good answer.

How to use the supplemental oxygen system was next on the list, so we covered how to connect the cannula, and how to turn on and adjust the flow. We practiced donning our life jackets and discussed when we will wear them while inside the plane. We agreed that we'll put them before taking off for an over-water route, not take them off until we're above 5000 feet, and put them back on when beginning our descent. I'll have the waterproof, handheld radio attached to my vest and she'll have the personal GPS locator beacon attached to her vest. The life raft will be secured behind her seat, where I can reach it should be have to ditch in the ocean.

I'm always extra careful when flying an aircraft that has just been approved for return to service by the mechanics. It's not that I don't trust mechanics, I just know that aircraft maintenance is complicated and mistakes can happen. So I'll use an aircraft acceptance checklist that I created, do a very thorough preflight inspection, look for loose screws, check all the inspection plates, and I'll be the only person on board for the first flight.

On subsequent shake-down flights, I'll cover the basic aircraft engine and flight controls with my pinch hitter. But first the plane has to come back from it's annual inspection. The propellers just came back from the prop shop and have been installed, but the engine ground runs must still be completed and the aircraft logbook updated. I feel like I'm helping create a mosaic out of hundreds of tiny tiles while trying to maintain a normal teaching schedule up to our departure date. All the planning and preparation is tedious and time-consuming, but the big picture is gradually taking shape.

One More Jerk

Just heard about this recent story of a pilot who made three (count 'em) emergency landings in one day to due smoke in the cockpit. After the first landing, it seems the pilot discovered an exhaust hose clamp or the hose itself was to blame. The pilot reportedly tried to fix the aircraft himself, at one point using parts from a local Wal-Mart. Each time he took off, smoke filled the passenger compartment. After his last landing, his passenger jumped out and was injured. The plane caught fire and was substantially damaged. One wonders if the pilot was still convinced he could fix the problem himself. In addition to his questionable aeronautical decision-making, the pilot did not hold an A&P certificate. Oh, and it was his passenger's first ride in a small aircraft.

I'm not sure if this is still the case, but when I was a high school student, girls had to take home economics and boys had to take shop class. Girls presumably learned how to cook and sew and boys learned how to use tools and curse. Talk about social engineering!

A cartoon I saw in shop class stuck with me, probably because I like puns and the play on words. The cartoon showed two mechanics trying to loosen a pipe fitting with a large wrench. If you know much of anything about pipes and wrenches, you quickly realized that these guys were having difficulties because they'd slipped a length of pipe over the handle of the wrench to provide more leverage.

Of course they were drawn in such a way as to reveal they were straining mightily - faces swollen, sweat spilling off their arms. In the right edge of the frame was another mechanic, wiping off his hands as we walked toward them. He's the only one speaking and his words were "Did somebody say all it would take was one more jerk?"

My shop teacher used this an as example of how to disrespect tools, use them incorrectly, and create a dangerous situation in the process. He was trying to teach us to think rather than use brute force. He warned us to avoid becoming what is sometimes called a hammer mechanic (someone who bangs on things to fix them) or a pliers mechanic (someone who uses tools inappropriately and ends up damaging the very thing they are trying to repair).

I've been thinking about that shop class because lately I've been seeing a lot of aircraft maintenance problems. In fact, I've had too many flights cancelled recently because a plane was broken and my income has suffered mightily. Some of the maintenance problems resulted because a part just wore out from use. Some of the problems were because the aircraft had been repaired, but the logbook entries were not taken care of properly or because the incorrect parts were used. Some aircraft were damaged because the pilot operated the plane is such a way as to cause the damage.

My observation is that pilots and aircraft owner/operators tend to be far too optimistic when it comes to mechanical things. I can understand the owner/operator being in denial because they want to make money or (more realistically) minimize their losses. I think pilots tend to be optimistic for one simple reason - we want to go flying, dammit! Pilots are the ones most at risk for being overly optimistic, especially when you stop to think that their wallet, their pilot certificate, and or their life could hang in the balance. It's an old saw, but I'll repeat it: A good pilot is a pessimist.

Notwithstanding this story about goats being sacrificed to fix an electrical problem with a Nepalese 757, seldom is there much mystery about what is broken on a plane. This brings up an important point for all concerned to remember: Things wear out. Anything made by the hand of humans has a useful life and we need to make peace with that fact. More often than not, there is some warning that a part or device on an aircraft is failing or on its last legs, so the first weak link in the maintenance chain is the pilot who doesn't report the problem after their flight or who takes flight in spite of a significant discrepancy. Some examples include:

Heading indicators that begin spinning after just a couple of steep turns.

Attitude indicators that become lazy and don't agree with the pilot's view of the outside world.

ATC regularly complaining that a transponder's mode C altitude reporting is intermittent.

Avionics frequency displays that don't function in dim light.

Engine starters that only engage after the fifth attempt.

Tires with no tread left or with flat spots.

Loose alternator belts.

Multiple, missing cowling screws.

Landing gear struts that appear partially collapsed or are leaking fluid.

Out-of-date GPS databases.

There's really not a lot of mystery to aircraft maintenance, aside from where the money will come from to pay for it. Pilots need to be careful with planes they fly and operate them skillfully, carefully and conservatively. And above all, a good pilot is a pessimist.