The incident occurred Monday at the 82nd Training Wing at Sheppard Air Force Base in Texas, but the pilot was attached to the Euro-NATO Joint Jet Pilot Training Program that instructs new military pilots from Canada and various European countries.

The pilot was taken to a hospital but died about 12 hours after the incident, which the Air Force is currently investigating.

There have been issues with the ejection seats in Texan IIs, which have been in service for 17 years and are based on the Pilatus PC-9 built under license by Beechcraft. The airplanes were grounded in 2022 after a potential defect was discovered in the Martin-Baker seats’ explosive cartridge, and some were replaced.

Editor’s Note: This article first appeared on AVweb.

The post Air Force Instructor Dies After Texan II’s Ejection Seat Activates on Ground appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Flying is one of those things that so many people want to try—or have questions about. We answer some of those frequently asked here.

Learning to fly and obtaining a pilot certificate is not like learning to drive a forklift. You can’t do it in an afternoon. It usually takes a few months, with flying lessons two or three times a week.

It will be expensive, around $6,000 to $10,000 for a private certificate. You do not have to pay the money up front. Be wary about putting money on account at a flight school unless it has a refund policy and it is in writing.

Get your medical certificate early. If you are pursuing a certificate to fly an airplane, you will need to have it before you are allowed to solo. If deferred, don’t give up. There may be an opportunity for special issuance, or you may seek a pilot certificate that doesn’t require a medical certificate, like flying gliders.

You will need an aviation headset and pilot logbook. Bring both with you to your flight lessons. You will want to get a gear bag to carry these materials along with a notebook for taking notes and writing down information in the cockpit.

You will learn to read an aviation sectional, which is a map used for navigation. You will learn how to use the pilot’s operating handbook (POH) for your aircraft to determine its performance.

Part 61 vs. Part 141

The difference between training under Part 61 and Part 141 is structure. Part 141 is the more restrictive of the two. Under Part 141, the use of a syllabus is required, lessons are done in a specific order, only certain airports are authorized for flights to and from, there is a training course outline (TCO), and stage checks are required to advance in training.

• READ MORE: Pointers for Packing Your First Flight Bag

The material covered under Part 61 and Part 141 is identical, but some funding sources will require the applicant to be training at an accredited 141 program.

The benefit of Part 141 is that, in theory, the structure allows for the applicant to achieve the required experience in as little as 35 hours to be eligible for the check ride. Under Part 61, the minimum is 40 hours.

For best results, use a syllabus to make sure all the material is covered in a logical order. Your instructor should have a copy that they refer to, and you should have a copy of it as well.

Be advised, the national average for experience for applicants taking private pilot check rides is around the 60-hour mark, no matter which part you train under.

The benefit of Part 61 is that if there is a hiccup with the issuance of your medical certificate that delays your first solo, you won’t have to stop training. You can move ahead to other dual lessons (that means flying with an instructor) in the syllabus until your medical challenges are resolved. Also, you have more flexibility when it comes to airports you are allowed to fly to, therefore your experience will be broader than someone trained under Part 141.

Use the FAA Airman Certification Standards (ACS), which are the minimum “passable” performance for a pilot, from day one. The ACS provides performance metrics, such as holding altitude within 100 feet and heading within 5 degrees. Remember these are the minimum standards, so strive to do better.

Learn to Use a Mechanical E6-B Flight Computer

Don’t let it intimidate you. The instructions for solving time, speed, and distance problems are printed on the face of the instrument. The backside of the instrument is the wind calculation side, and it can be very useful for visualizing wind correct angles.

For the pilots (often lapsed CFIs) who argue that the cockpits of turboprops and jets have flight management systems and backups on backups for navigation that will tell you wind correction angles, ground speed, time en route, etc., please remember it’s going to be a long time before the private pilots who want to be professional pilots get to that level with those resources.

And not everyone wants to be a professional pilot.

• READ MORE: How To Use a E6B Flight Computer

Learning to use the mechanical E6-B before you go to an electronic version or an app is the aviation version of learning how to do basic math before using a calculator. It gives you an extra tool to use in the cockpit should your electronic device run out of juice, get stolen, or do an uncommanded gravity check with pavement that renders it inoperable.

Structure of Lessons

A traditional flight school is not like attending high school. You won’t be in a classroom or airplane all day. Your ground school can be done face to face and will be a few hours a day, or you can do it online. At the completion of the course you will be endorsed to take a knowledge test (commonly known as the written test, although it is all on computer now) administered by an FAA-approved private contractor.

Most flight lessons are at least an hour long for local flights. For cross-country flights that involve going to an airport at least 50 nm away, you will budget more time.

Your first lesson will likely be heading out to the local practice area (your instructor knows where that is) to learn how to do climbs, turns, and descents. Flying in the practice area is like learning to drive a stick shift in an empty parking lot. You want the room to make mistakes.

Learning to fly in the airport traffic pattern is like learning to drive a stick shift in stop-and-go traffic. It is considerably more stressful and can be counterproductive. Learn basic control before the stakes are higher.

Solo Flight

Your first solo is the halfway point of your private pilot training. There are 15 experience requirements listed in the Federal Aviation Regulations/Aeronautical Information Manual (FAR/AIM) rule book under Part 61.87 that are required to be covered before you can be soloed.

Keep in mind that performing the task once doesn’t mean you have learned it or can perform it well, so you will have to practice it a few times before the solo endorsement is given. There also will be an airport-specific knowledge test administered by your instructor before a solo endorsement is given.

Before you launch on your solo cross-country flights, a flight instructor must review your flight plan and provide you with an endorsement, stating they have reviewed your flight plan and you are prepared to make the flight. This endorsement will go into your logbook.

About Your CFI

Your CFI should want to talk before and after each lesson. This is known as the pre-brief (what we are going to do and how we are going to do it) and the post-brief (this is how you did, and what we will do next). This is considered part of your training. Don’t skimp on this.

Understand that most CFIs do the job to build their experience for other jobs, like the airlines. Some of them may be more interested in building their own hours than teaching you to fly, or their teaching style or availability might not work for you. If any of these issues crop up, it’s OK to seek a change of instructor. Conversely, if it’s not working from the CFI’s perspective as they cannot meet your needs, they may suggest a change of instructor.

We can’t control the weather. There may be days the CFI suggests a ground lesson, a lesson in the school flight training device (commonly known as a simulator), or canceling the lesson due to weather that is below VFR weather minimums or beyond your capabilities at the time. This is about you flying, not your CFI showing you what they can do. If you are on your second lesson and the crosswind component or gust factor are beyond the demonstrated component of the aircraft you are flying, it’s likely a better day to stay on the ground.

The post What to Expect When Learning to Fly appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

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

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

FAA & Emergency Landings 

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

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

Space Needed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Learn Your Area’s Topography 

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

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

• READ MORE: Flying with an Athletic Mindset

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

Athletic Fields

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

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

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

Stay Off The Road

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

• READ MORE: ICARUS Device Enhances IFR Training

About the Device

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

How It Works

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

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

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

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

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

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

My first flight instructor, Mario Feola, always loves to ask me questions like that one. He is perpetually curious about how my job is going and how it relates to the tips he passed on to me. He likes to see the ripple effect his teaching had on the making of a learner pilot, especially one like myself, now a new captain on a 45-ton airliner. Instructors are like that, especially wise, gray-haired ones. Mario has as much experience, and gray hair for that matter, as any airman I ever met. He has a big belly, a white beard, and a dominating presence in any room. He’s pretty much a jolly Italian Santa, only happier and more generous if that’s possible. This Santa, however, doesn’t have any reindeer—just a small, single-engine Cessna.

“So, what do you use?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, all of those hours crammed in that sardine can-sized plane with you, sweating in the Mississippi heat, cruising at what seems like dangerously low altitudes, really did have a profound effect. I learned a lot.”

• READ MORE: Ice on the Wings Brings About a Near-Miss Episode

Like the time I was in freezing conditions and started picking up heavy ice outside Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport (KMSP). It was the kind of cold that makes penguins shiver and Minnesotans fly south for the winter—which was exactly what we were doing. The thick, clear ice started piling up on any surface exposed to the elements. No big deal: “Turn on the wing anti-ice protection.” Without hesitation, my first officer reached up and moved a switch that propels lava-hot air, taken directly from the interior of our own jet engines, and shoots it down a shielded enclosure within the edge of the wings. The resulting spike in temperature melts even the worst that this frozen tundra can throw at us.

Then it happened…a triple chime.

A triple chime is the highest-priority audible alarm in the aircraft. It is usually followed by a dozen nasty messages from the flight computer and an equal number of vulgarities from the flight crew. This one was no exception—bleed leak. The boiling, hot air from the turbines had escaped and was pouring into the unprotected components inside the wing. In a few moments, the compressed air would begin to destroy flight controls or even melt and deform the wing, leading to an uncontrolled roll motion. But to stop the heat now also meant that the ice would continue to compound aggressively on a cold wing, adding weight and disrupting the flow of air, which leads to an aerodynamic stall and a really bad day for my airline’s insurance provider.

“Remain calm, slow down, think.” Mario’s words passed through my mind. I first heard them a decade before. He was trying to get me to finally understand cross-country flying. Back then, long distance was from Diamondhead, Mississippi, to Slidell, Louisiana, not quite LAX to JFK just yet. “Remain calm, slow down, think.” Sage words reminding a learner that a lot of wrong decisions made in haste can turn a simple problem into the headline on the 9 o’clock news. OK, deep breath…think. I just heard another airplane report that the turbulence dissipated when it exited the clouds far below us. That means this layer must end with the base of the clouds.

• READ MORE: Treat High-Altitude Turbulence with Knowledge and Respect

“Perform the checklist for the bleed leak. We are going to declare an emergency, descend out the bottom of this weather layer and into the clear below,” I thought to myself. “Any ice we pick up will be minimal, and we will carry extra speed into the landing to compensate for any lift lost or weight gained.” Twenty minutes later, I was calmly telling the passengers, “Thank you. Please fly with us again.”

That wasn’t the only time a lesson came hurtling back into my consciousness uninvited. Like the time we were learning how to climb and descend at set speeds. It was a basic and rudimentary task that every pilot must get through. It was during that lesson that I observed our course would drive us into a spring shower, the kind that gently sprinkle rain, barely enough to get the ground wet, just enough to make you curse if you just finished washing your car. I asked Mario to go around it, but he refused: “It’s just water. Remember, it’s only water.” We passed through the shoot of drizzle without so much as a bump. The rain splattered the windscreen and slid right off. My fear was unfounded.

Once on the other side, Mario was quick to point out an unusual anomaly. Down below us, on a bubbly set of cotton-white clouds, was a perfectly round rainbow, cotton-white clouds, was a perfectly round rainbow, and in its center, the shadow of our airplane. “It’s a pilot’s cross,” he said. “It only happens when the sun is behind you, water is still hanging in the air, and those puffy marshmallows are down there. Our shadow makes the shape of a cross, and it’s only ever seen from above, solid proof that God loves pilots.”

A dozen years later, I was passing over the Great Plains. This time, however, I was five times faster and 10 times higher but still just as uneasy when the first few raindrops hit my windscreen. After all, the place 30,000 feet beneath me is nicknamed “Tornado Alley.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. You may notice some flashes of lightning originating from the thunderstorm cell to the left side of the aircraft. I just wanted to reassure you that I’ve adjusted our flight path to take us well clear of the storm. However, I do ask that you remain seated and firmly buckled up, as I expect to encounter some residual pockets of isolated rain and turbulence. Please do not be alarmed if we fly through any rain. Remember, it’s only water.”

As I ended the PA, I could see the apprehension of my new-hire copilot beginning to crack through her calm demeanor. “You’re not nervous?” she squeaked out. “Nah, we will be fine,” I said. “God loves pilots.”

At no point did Mario’s words ring truer than during an August flight to Montreal. We had just taken off and made our first turn out of Minneapolis. Passing through 3,000 feet, barely two minutes into our journey, a deafening boom rattled the whole airframe. Dials and needles on the faces of the engine instruments spun wildly out of control, the airplane lurched to one side, and a flame the length of a small car spewed out of the tailpipe of our left engine. I had seen this scenario a dozen times before from the relative calm and safety of our company simulator, but now the stakes were raised with real people behind me and real granite below. Instinctively, I grabbed the controls and reverted back to my Cessna days: “You fly the airplane. Don’t let it fly you.”

“I have the controls. Give me the quick reference checklist for engine one fail, severe damage, no relight, N₁ at 0.0 percent, engine temp past limits, standby for possible fire indication.”

That bark to my copilot was unmistakable. I am the captain. The ship returned to earth just a few seemingly hour-long minutes later with procedures done, flight attendants needlessly ready to spring into action, miles of runway cleared, a massive commercial airport at a standstill, and a dozen fire trucks waiting patiently. I landed without incident, taxied to the gate and then personally apologized to each passenger for the interruption of their travel plans. Every single one of them boarded our spare airplane to take them along the same stretch of sky just 40 minutes later. That told me that they trusted me—and would do so again.

Mario, there are some lessons from you that are far more important, though—the ones I live every day. The things I took to heart most were the things you didn’t do or say—like the fact that you never gave me a bill. Thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours of your time, just volunteered, for nothing in return. You taught me that the best things in life are freely given to those that can never give it back to you. I’ve heard it elsewhere called grace. You taught me the value of patience, especially during the times it seemed like I was learning to crawl, not fly. I’ve never seen you get angry, and I’m not sure it’s possible for you. You taught me about having faith in the people you care about, and you never doubted me, even when I failed—and I failed a lot. You taught me to push myself to excellence, even if that push felt like a kick in the butt.

You once told me that you envied me. I guess it’s because I’m living out your dream occupation. But that’s just not the reality. I envy you. It is true that I’m a captain now, but you didn’t just make me into a pilot. You molded me into a better man, a man more like yourself, and that’s what I really wanted the most. That’s what I learned from you, Mario. I learned about flying, and life, from that.

This column first appeared in the December 2023/Issue 944 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post Beloved Flight Instructor’s Lessons Continue to Replay in Airline Captain’s Head appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

We agreed there were times when compulsory education seemed tedious, and there was the added challenge of having transportation to get to school, wearing “the right clothes,” etc., which was often a distraction. We both could have done without a lot of that, and agreed the experience would have been better experience with the option for remote learning.

But this was a time when we still had telephone booths and blue mailboxes on corners. The digital age was not yet upon us, and the term “online” applied to fish.

That has all changed now, as online classes are as common as rocks on the beach. If you are considering taking ground school, and have a choice of face-to-face or online, consider this: The material presented will be the same, but the delivery and learner responsibilities are a bit different. It will come down to what works for you.

Face-to-Face

This time of year, ground school enrollment tends to increase as the good flying weather is just around the corner. Before you invest your money (and it will probably be  a few hundred dollars) and time, there are some things to think about.

Do you have the time to commute to a face-to-face class? Or will you be rushing from work to the airport? Will the class schedule interfere with already planned vacations or home projects?

Most face-to-face ground schools are 10 weeks long, consisting of about four hours of lecture and five to six hours of studying. You will definitely get more out of the class if you do the assigned reading before the lecture. If you cannot make this commitment, this may not be the right time for you to enroll. Keep in mind that many FBOs do not give refunds for ground school, even if you have to drop out due to an unforeseen circumstance, like an illness in the family.

Also, some face-to-face courses have minimum attendance rules. For example, if you miss more than X number of classes, you are not allowed to continue, or you may not get the endorsement at the end of the course that allows you to take the knowledge test. That endorsement, by the way, is only good for 60 days. Consider that when you make your plans.

Before you sign up, find out who is teaching the course and if they have experience as a ground instructor—not a flight instructor—beyond the pre-brief and post-brief. It is very discouraging to enroll in a ground school that turns out to be little more than a CFI reading out of a book or the slides off a computer screen. Ground school should be a lecture, discussion, hands-on experience, and if the CFI is good, memorable in a positive way.

To the learners, hear this: Teaching someone to fly an airplane is a lot easier than teaching in a classroom. You show the learner what to do, and they do it. There are many CFIs who avoid teaching ground school because they know it isn’t their skill set. There are others who think repeating something louder and slower is teaching. It really isn’t, but that may be the education model the CFI was trained under.

Online Courses Offer Control

The beauty of online courses is that the learner controls the pace and time of instruction. You could binge watch, doing five lessons in one night, or spread it out to two a week. Don’t try skipping ahead in these courses, however, as they have algorithms baked in to record how much time the learner spent in that lesson. A warning box will pop up telling you that you are going too fast. It also records if you skip something, so don’t even try it.

With online courses you can go back and watch a lesson if something doesn’t quite click. Many online courses provide a way for you to contact a CFI to clarify a concept.

If you are enrolled in a Part 141 program at an FBO or college, it may use a specific online course. It likely dovetails into the syllabus.

If you’re training under Part 61, you have more freedom, and you may want to test fly each course—most allow you to sample a few lessons for free—before you commit.

Some learners get the most out of mixing ground schools. One of my current learners is using Sporty’s Online Private Pilot course and Gold Seal at the same time. Both courses have the same material but are organized differently. This immersion seems to be working for her.

One of the bonuses of online ground school is that often you can revisit the lessons even after you have received your certificate. This refresher, while not required by the FAA, is often the mark of a good pilot. If it has been awhile since you did a soft field takeoff and you plan to fly to a grass strip, review that lesson to make sure no knowledge has been lost. Remember, pilot proficiency begins on the ground.

More Specialty Training

Many online education providers also have specialty courses, such as preparing for your flight review, tailwheel training, or backcountry flying. It’s also a way to sample a different kind of flying without getting anywhere near an airport.

If this is your first endeavor into ground school, trial and error is probably the best way to determine what works for you and what doesn’t. Good luck, and may learning take place.

The post How to Find Your Best Ground School Fit appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

We start with the sad, as I wrote several stories about aircraft accidents this year. Often, my airport children (pilots I have trained or mentored) reach out to me when something happens, but we wait to publish anything on these until the NTSB releases its preliminary report. I often interview witnesses, but there will be no speculation. This is a rule.

I approach all of these stories wearing my flight instructor cap. I submit there has to be something to learn from the misfortune of others. This year, I wrote a lot about midair accidents. 

I had several friends at Reno this year, watching the last Reno Air Races. A few of them are lifers, going to the event every year since they were children. Some work in the pits. A few witnessed the collision of the T-6s Baron’s Revenge and Six Cat. Others witnessed the aftermath. One told me how he struggled to explain what had happened to his kids. I think we can all agree it was a horrible way to end the air races at Reno.

Florida Midair

At approximately 2 p.m. on March 7, 2023, there was the collision of a Piper Cherokee and a Piper J-3 Cub on floats at Winter Haven Regional Airport (KGIF) in Florida, that killed four people: two CFIs and two learners. Both were in their respective patterns—the pilot of the Cherokee was attempting a poweroff 180-degree landing to Runway 29, and the Cub was attempting to land at Jack Brown’s Seaplane Base (F57).

20-plus years of experience as a CFI has given me a very healthy respect for see-and-avoid, and expect the unexpected—especially in the pattern, that is so often crowded with pilots of varying abilities. This one was my worst nightmare, especially when I learned the pilot of the Cherokee was a commercial student attending the aviation program at Polk State College. I know people who teach there.

The pilot of the Piper J-3 Cub on floats was also on an instructional flight. As the preliminary NTSB report noted, the J-3 was not equipped with a radio, and radio communications were not required in that airspace, which is Class Echo. The NTSB noted the pilot of the Cherokee announced a left turn to the base leg of the traffic pattern; then the aircraft collided nearly head-on at an altitude of approximately 575 feet msl. The NTSB is still investigating.

Airshow Collision Lawsuit

The November 12, 2022 midair collision of the B-17 Texas Raiders and the P-63 Kingcobra that took the lives of six during the Wings Over Dallas Airshow came back in 2023 when a lawsuit was filed against the Commemorative Air Force, the organizers of the show, on behalf of the family of Len Root, the B-17 pilot. The lawsuit was filed on the grounds of alleged negligence because, according to the NTSB, no altitude deconfliction procedures were briefed before the flight or applied when the airplanes were in the air. 

The lawsuit also names air boss Russell Royce as a defendant for alleged failure to maintain control of the flight paths of the aircraft involved. Altitude deconfliction procedures are established in the event pilots find themselves at an improper altitude during the flight. Several photographs and videos of the event from multiple angles show the P-63 in a turn, coming up behind the B-17 turning with its belly facing the bomber, then colliding with it, slicing the bigger aircraft in half.

McSpadden Accident

When I write about accidents, it involves studying the airport diagrams and the NTSB preliminary report, often recreating the environment that led to the event in an Redbird FMX AATD. It is my attempt to understand what happened, as written in the preliminary report.

When I wrote about one in Florida that was attributed to spatial disorientation caused by a blackhole departure, I duct-taped a black curtain over the entry to the cab of the FMX. I needed a zero-light situation to see what the pilot saw.

I shared this with Richard McSpadden Jr., who was AOPA’s vice president of safety, and often studied and commented on accidents for AOPA’s Air Safety Institute. I often reached out to him for his insights, as we shared the same philosophy about learning from accidents. I had tremendous respect for him, not only for his work with ASI, but also for his experience as a member of the USAF Thunderbirds. We often discussed how instructors could better prepare their learners to avoid these events.

That ended on October 1 when McSpadden and former NFL tight end turned FBO owner Russ Francis were killed attempting to return to Lake Placid Airport (KLKP) in New York. The Cessna Cardinal RG they were flying developed an engine issue shortly after takeoff. Witnesses told the NTSB that the engine sounded as if it was surging. Someone onboard the Cardinal radioed they were returning because of a problem.

The purpose of the flight was to do a photo mission for AOPA. The photo aircraft, a Beechcraft A36, took off first. Per company procedure for photo flights, the pilot/owner of the subject aircraft (Francis) was to fly the airplane during the takeoff, climb-out and landing, and after joining up in formation, the pilot-rated passenger (McSpadden) would take over the controls and fly the airplane, as photo shoots require formation flying.

The airport is on a plateau. There is a single runway, 14/22, measuring 4,196 feet long and 60 feet wide. There are several obstructions, including trees, which according to the NTSB preliminary report measure 77-feet-high located 884 feet from the runway, and 334 feet left of centerline, which required an 8:1 slope to clear. Additionally, there is a 13-foot-high berm with a road 145 feet from the threshold and more trees some 93 feet from the runway. The Cardinal came down short of the runway, nose first into a ravine. There was no fire, but fuel spilled when the wing tanks were compromised. According to witnesses, both men survived the crash but expired a short time later. The NTSB is still investigating the accident.

Like so many, I was stunned and rattled by the accident—so much so that I spent the better part of two hours recreating the event in the Redbird configured like the Cardinal, practicing the improbable turn. If it could happen to Spad, it could happen to me, I thought. A few times, I ended up in the ravine.  Later I spent two hours flying a Cessna 172 with the most experienced instructor I know in the Seattle area. It felt good to get some dual again.

Death by Time Builder

In October, I wrote Death By Time Builder in response to a crash in Kentucky involving an instructor, Timothy McKellar Jr., 22, who did a night cross-country flight in convective weather with l8-year-old private pilot candidate Connor Quisenberry. They were killed when thunderstorms tore the Piper Warrior apart. It is a sad story, made infuriating because McKellar, who had a pronounced social media presence, documented his frustration with the learner–and the approaching thunderstorms via Snapchat during the flight when, as an instructor, he should have been focused on teaching.

According to social media posts, McKellar soloed at Eagle Flight Academy in Owensboro, Kentucky, in 2020 but did the bulk of his training at ATP. He earned his private pilot certificate in spring of 2022, followed by instrument rating and commercial certificates, and in April 2023, his CFI rating. On his social media accounts, he listed ATP as his employer, but the fatal flight originated from Eagle Flight Academy. 

Based on the track recorded by FlightAware, which shows multiple laps in the pattern at Bowling Green, it appears the flight was done to satisfy the three hours of night flying and ten takeoffs and landings required for private pilot certification.

McKellar’s snaps included disparaging observations about Quisenberry’s intellect made during the flight. That is never okay. The CFI needs to be focused on teaching in the cockpit. Put the damn phone down.

The final Snapchat was made on the return leg and shows a preview of the flight path from Bowling Green to Owensboro overlying a radar image showing severe storms heading toward them. McKellar compares them to ‘pissed off hornets,’ noting that they are heading toward them, yet the flight continues with thunderstorms on either side of the proposed track. 

Flying into thunderstorms or trying to outrun them or duck between them screams ‘get there itis,’ and hazardous attitudes invulnerability, macho, anti-authority, impulsivity, and you might say resignation as when working with primary students the instructor is the pilot in command and responsible for the safety of the flight. The fact McKellar allowed the flight to happen at all with convective activity in the forecast is perplexing. 

In the last contact with ATC, McKellar asks for an IFR clearance, reporting the aircraft was being blown around like crazy. ATC gives a heading to turn to. The radar track from FlightAware shows the aircraft passing through the assigned heading, and there was no further communication. The wreckage was found spread over a 25 acre area.

Aeronautical decision making is a big part of learning to fly, and the ability to make good decisions can be compromised when the CFI is more focused on ‘getting it done’ and or social media presence. One wonders if McKellar had good risk management modeled for him as a learner. 

A few weeks after the event I attended the National Association of Flight Instructors (NAFI) summit and this event was a topic of discussion. A great many professional CFIs and Designated Pilot Examiners (DPEs) are concerned about the time builders who rush through training and don’t have the time to mature as educators. Should we trust them to train the next generation of pilots?

When training  centers on passing the check rides and becoming an instructor to build hours, the focus often isn’t on becoming a good teacher, as it is seen as a stepping stone. It’s the learners who pay for this when their CFI demonstrates poor risk management, such as flying into a thunderstorm at night. I submit Quisenberry would have learned much more about decision making had McKellar canceled the flight. And both families would likely still have their sons.

Business Stories

On the business side of aviation, the announcement this month that Alaska Airlines was buying struggling rival Hawaiian Airlines for $1.9 billion got mixed reviews from my airport sons and daughters who fly for both carriers. The acquisition was several months in the making and included Alaska Airlines taking $900 million in Hawaiian Airlines debt. While it may keep the island-based carrier afloat, it is not clear what impact this will have on seniority numbers. It’s just nice to know Hawaiian Airlines won’t disappear.

The Fun Stories

In early July, we asked our readers to help track down the legacy of Captain Jack L. Martin, a World War II-era aviator who went on to help establish the Flying Tiger Line, one of the first cargo airlines in the United States. Captain Martin went west in 1970, so he never met Anne Palmer Martin, who married his son Bob decades later. Palmer Martin was a college classmate of mine, and I was positively over the moon when she offered me the A-2 flight jacket that belonged to Captain Martin after Bob, who had inherited his father’s jacket, went west. It had been in the closet for years, and she hoped I could help her learn more about the jacket and the man who wore it, as I am a collector. Challenge accepted.

The jacket, dry and brittle with age, was carefully restored and photographed, and I reached out to my warbird and vintage jacket aficionados. There was one photograph of a 20-something Captain Martin wearing the jacket and what appears to be a USAAF uniform standing next to another man in uniform at what appears to be an air base. There are T-6s in the background and one of our readers told us the airplane they are leaning on appears to be a Beechcraft AT-11, which was a bombardier trainer during WWII.

We heard from several readers who knew Captain Martin from his civilian flying career. He flew supply missions to the Defense Early Warning line as it was being built during the Cold War and flew over both poles. He was well-liked and a good teacher, they said, and shared a few images of Captain Martin in uniform—including one that also showed Bob as a little boy with his father and sister.

Stuffy the Kitten Makes it Home

The most fun story came out of AirVenture 2023, and really didn’t have much to do with aviation, but rather the way the aviation community pulls together to help each other—that is the story of Stuffy the toy kitty that was accidentally left behind at KidVenture on July 24. Stuffy belongs to 6-year-old Brayden Eveleth of Grandview, Iowa. Eveleth celebrated his birthday at AirVenture, and one of his gifts was the plush toy cat that when microwaved, gives off a lavender scent. According to his mother, Ashley Eveleth, the whole family was distraught when Stuffy went missing while Brayden was distracted by the activities at KidVenture. The family retraced their steps and contacted EAA lost and found looking for the misplaced toy. As luck would have it, EAA volunteer Gary Sternberg posted a photograph of the found plushy cat on Facebook on July 28, urging readers to help the toy get back to its owner. Sternberg told FLYING he understands how important childhood attachment objects are to their owners, so he takes a vested interest in their return.

Real talk: having had a similar experience as a child when Reckless, the orange plush cat that was my copilot on my B-25/fort in the backyard was stolen, I was all over this one. The FLYING story went up on social media, and both it and Sternberg’s post were copied and shared several times over. We were able to track down the Eveleth family, who were overjoyed to hear the toy had been found.

The kind folks at EAA shipped Stuffy home, and Ashley Eveleth shared a video with FLYING of Brayden opening the box in the back of his mother’s car and weeping with joy to see his kitty again.

The post Stories That Struck a Chord This Year appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Signs of a Learning Plateau

We learn by drill and repetition, but if you fly consistently—at least twice a week—and don’t seem to be making progress as measured against the syllabus and airman certification standards, you could be on a plateau. These are particularly common just before the first solo. This is why there are so many people who get frustrated and quit when they are “just about to solo.” Instead of quitting, try asking for a change of instructor, if only for an evaluation flight. This different perspective might be what you need to help you get past the logjam.

I had the opportunity to be the evaluation instructor for a learner who had 12 consecutive hours of “pattern work” that took place over two months, but had not soloed yet.

I asked his primary CFI what the issue was with this learner. Was it a lack of consistency in his flying? That is a big one. Some days the learner flies to check ride level; other days it’s like they forgot how to fly.

• READ MORE: Don’t Quit After Your First Solo

I expected to hear he dropped the airplane to fly the radio, didn’t use his checklist, came in too high, etc. Instead, the CFI replied with a shrug, “He’s just not ready.” This was not helpful. A CFI is supposed to identify the soft spots and have a plan to fix them.

I asked the learner what he felt the problem was. He replied he didn’t know, as the CFI didn’t really talk during the flights, so the learner was under the assumption he was doing everything right. He was puzzled as to why he had not soloed yet.

There were a few surprises. During the takeoff roll the learner tossed the checklist into the back seat and left it there for the duration of the flight. He pushed the throttle full forward then grabbed the yoke with both hands. He never touched the trim wheel during the flight. Instead he kept both hands on the yoke and seemed to be fighting the airplane. He missed the crosswind call but made the downwind, base, and final calls. He recited the GUMPS check (gas, undercarriage, mixture, power, safety items) and pulled the power to 1,500 rpm at midfield then put both hands on the yoke for landing.

Rather than smoothly adjusting pitch, power, and trim to maintain a stable approach, he wrestled the yoke, which made approaches anything but stable. I was surprised when he added the last notch of flaps when the PAPI was showing three red, one white. I called for a go-around, and we departed to the practice area.

As we climbed to a safe altitude, we discussed what had just happened. He said he was taught to always land with full flaps, and he had not been instructed about the use of trim, so he needed two hands to control the airplane. In the practice area, I demonstrated how to fly a pattern at altitude using the checklist (pulled from the back seat), using trim, and having my left hand on the throttle and my right hand on the yoke. I think I even had my pinkie sticking out to show how light of touch you could have in a properly trimmed Cessna 172.

We practiced flying different airspeeds in different configurations, with me reading the checklist as if we were in the pattern. Obviously my approach was much different than his regular instructor, and this—the additional communication—was what he needed.

Tips for Getting Off the Learning Plateau

Some learning plateaus are the result of overtraining. Learning to fly is very much like playing a sport. You sometimes need to take a break both mentally and physically to allow learning to take place. If the learner is flying twice a day, five days a week but still hasn’t soloed, it may be due to overtraining. Review FAR 61.87 to make sure the requirements for solo are met, take a day off or two, then get back to it.

• READ MORE: Practice Makes Pilots

Incomplete learning can also create a plateau. The learner who thought he always needed to land with full flaps didn’t know the purpose of them was to allow a steeper angle of descent without an increase in airspeed. He didn’t ask his first instructor why he needed to add flaps to land. This was a hint his ground knowledge needed some shoring up, which it did. He hadn’t started ground school yet because his instructor told him it wasn’t time for it yet. To address this he was assigned homework before each lesson on systems, weight and balance, aircraft performance, aerodynamics, airspace, etc. The ground study improved his confidence, and it wasn’t long before his flying improved and he soloed.

Other Ways to Break the Plateau Logjam

Take a fun flight. Head out to the practice area and do the maneuvers the learner likes the best or go looking for landmarks. A clever CFI can introduce pilotage during this flight. These flights should be a review and often more relaxing for the learner.

Never do more than three consecutive flights solely consisting of pattern work in one week. If you haven’t had a breakthrough in three hours, go back out to the practice area and work on the fundamentals of aircraft control and procedures by flying a landing pattern at altitude with 1,000 feet agl being the floor.

For CFIs: Have the learner teach the pattern and landing back to you. Having them verbalize the process all the way around may give you insights as to what their challenges are and help you determine ways to correct them. You may find that when they put it in their own voice, learning takes place.

The post The Learning Plateau Is Always Challenging appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

I became a CFI on July 23, 2003, at 4:48 p.m. when designated pilot examiner Bob Roetcisoender handed me my temporary certificate. I became a flight instructor because I wanted to teach aviation.

Teaching someone to fly is life changing for both parties involved, like teaching someone how to swim, read, or ride a bicycle. Do you remember learning those things? Learning to swim gives you confidence. Learning to read opens up the world through the pages of books and magazines. Learning to ride a bicycle can take you places you have never been before, and it of-ten creates community.

Learning to fly does all these things—and it is the flight instructor who gets you there. One of the surprising things about being a flight instructor is that while the learners are gaining skills and knowledge, the CFI is learning too. You will learn something from everyone you fly with.

Learning Takes Place

There are two kinds of CFIs: the experience builders, who add to their well of knowledge while helping the learners achieve their goals, and the time builders, who are primarily focused on accumulating their own hours. Both can teach you to fly. Some will teach you how to be an instructor. Others will teach you what not to be.

Communication style is critical. I had one CFI who was badgering and insulting and responded to “I don’t know” by repeating the question louder and slower—they were terminated. So was the one who had trouble speaking in complete sentences, along with the one who rambled and needed directions to come to a point. Learning did not take place—with the exception of me realizing what didn’t work for me. Fortunately, there were many more CFIs who I did learn from, and it is their wisdom I share with my learners. A few notables include the following folks:

Dutch Werline was my first CFI. I think of him when I solo a learner. The first solo under my watch usually takes place at a non-towered airport. I hold a handheld radio and, as the learner is on the first upwind leg, I utter one word: “airspeed.” This is in homage to Dutch, who said this word—and only this word—on my first solo.

David Stahl taught me the process of the brief, the debrief, and the importance of the ground lesson. Stahl, a U.S. Air Force Academy graduate, taught me to fly the Air Force way. He went on to become a DPE and administered check rides for several of my learners. I think of him every time I brief an IFR approach with the acronym MARTHA (see “Knocking the Rust Off Your IFR Skills,” FLYING Q3 2022).

Shauna Clements helped get me off the learning plateau during the CFI certificate. She taught me the power of the phrase “talk to me, Goose.”

Teaching, Not Reading

Reading out of a book or off a computer screen is not teaching. The CFI should be able to do more. I learned this in 2002 from Bob Gardner, a retired DPE and the author of several books, including The Complete Private Pilot, The Complete Advanced Pilot, The Complete Multi-Engine Pilot, and Say Again Please: A Guide to Radio Communications. Bob and his wife, Maryruth, a retired high school teacher, met me at a local flight school, and we did a heavy ground session.

It was she who suggested I use multiple colors of ink on the whiteboard to organize my thoughts. It worked beautifully, and by the end of the day the verdict of the Gardners was that I could teach. To this day, teaching ground school is a favorite activity for me. Dennis Cunneen, a CFI and dear friend, taught me you can have fun teaching while simultaneously being thorough. He gave me sage advice on dealing with teens—have them, not their parents, do the scheduling, and let them know that time should be respected.

Don’t confuse time builders with experience builders. Experience builders build their hours, but they are instructors first. Their job is to teach, and most of them do it well. Without them, no flight training would happen. These instructors plan for their separation from the flight school if the career path takes them elsewhere—and they’ll help learners find another instructor.

Time builders are the bane of the instructional community. Show me someone who was frustrated by training, and I will show you someone who was paired with a time builder. Get your hours and move on, but please don’t take advantage of the learners, most of whom don’t realize when they are being taken advantage of. I cringe when I hear about obvious “hour grabs” by CFIs, such as the airline-bound instructor who persuaded the pre-solo-also-wants-to-be-an-airline-pilot learner to do night cross-country flights in a multiengine airplane by telling him it would look great in the learner’s logbook, or the Part 141 instructor who eschewed the syllabus, telling the learner that “no one here uses that anymore” and proceeded to take the learner for 40 hours of dual given in a two-month period—but no solo.

First Solo

Administering the first solo is a glorious experience that has not lost its thrill for me. I watch the learner from the ramp, radio in hand, pacing back and forth like an expectant father from a 1960s sitcom. Sometimes this has unexpected results. The last time I did this at Tacoma Narrows Airport (KTIW) in Gig Harbor, Washington, I caused a bit of a stir. I was on the transient ramp in front of the restaurant, pacing, watching my learner, and listening to the traffic. I learned later the people in the restaurant thought I was FAA and was waiting to bust someone. They did not realize they were watching the birth of a new pilot, with me standing behind them just as generations of instructors stood behind me.

This column first appeared in the July 2023/Issue 933 print edition of FLYING.

The post The Long Line of Instructors appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

1. Trying to steer with the yoke on the ground

With the exception of the two-axis Ercoupe, you steer an airplane on the ground with rudder pedals and differential braking. If you know how to drive, you may try to steer with the yoke on the ground, using it like a steering wheel. Break this habit by folding your arms on your chest and steering with your feet while the CFI controls the power.

2. Not using the checklist

There are pilot wanna-bes who do not embrace the checklist, or think of it as ‘busy work’—that is what a would-be learner called it when I handed it to him before his first lesson. He tossed it back and scolded me for ‘not knowing my job’ because I ‘had to use a checklist.’ I let him struggle to start the airplane, turning the ignition key a few times before I handed him the checklist back.

3. Pulling back on the yoke or stick to get the airplane to climb instead of adding power

This results in a reduction in airspeed and possibly an approach to a stall. Flight instructors are conditioned to guard against this—the good ones will warn you not to, and will explain the importance of adding power to climb, noting the aircraft will climb when power is added—and explain why it happens.

4. Pulling back on the yoke or stick to stretch a glide

Trying to stretch a glide may end in a stall or a hard unscheduled off-airport landing. Add power instead if it’s available—or stick to best glide speed if it’s not.

5. Not using a syllabus

This mistake is mostly the fault of the CFI. The use of a syllabus keeps both the learner and the instructor on track, and can save time and money because you know what you are going to do, in what order and what the performance standards are. The syllabus is written from the requirements for the certificate or rating listed in the FAR/AIM. Syllabi are required at Part 141 schools but not at Part 61 schools, and often there are CFIs who, because they were trained without one, don’t see the value in using them. Find a CFI who does.

6. Shortcuts to get through the knowledge test

The knowledge test contains information you must know how to apply. Rote memorization is the lowest form of learning, and does not lead to understanding, application, or correlation. A pilot may memorize which instruments in the airplane are electrically powered, but not understand how the electrical system works and whether its failure will result in loss of engine power.

7. Failure to know the course requirements

Learners, especially primary learners, tend to trust and follow their CFI without asking questions like ‘why am I learning this?’ or ‘why am I learning this now?’ There are some CFIs who take advantage of this trust and use the learner’s money to pad their logbooks—such as the CFI who had a pre-solo private pilot candidate doing dual night cross-country IFR flights. Save yourself some time and money and check the FAR/AIM for the requirements.

8. Not showing up for lessons on time

Your flight lesson is scheduled for 12 p.m., but you don’t get there until 12:33. Many schools have a policy for late and no-show candidates that allows them to collect the full amount of revenue for the lesson. If you are chronically late or frequently cancel don’t be surprised if both the school and the CFI hesitate to schedule you.

9. Failure to obtain a weather briefing

By your fourth lesson you should be able to obtain and interpret the weather briefing. The CFI should also be checking the weather, but don’t use them as a crutch. Pro tip: looking out the window is not a weather briefing, and “looks pretty good” is not a forecast.

10. Underestimating the time it will take

There are students who think they automatically take their check rides when they reach 40 hours of flight. Acquiring the number of hours does not automatically result in a certificate. The airman certification standards reflect minimums with performance levels that must be met. The average flight time for a private pilot is 60 to 80 hours. Having those hours is only half the battle—you need the knowledge and proficiency to pass the check ride.

11. Paying the full amount up front

You may hear about programs for time building and training that run from $6,000 to more than $12,000 de- pending on the certificate or rating. Some will pressure you to pay the full amount up front. Never do this. Be sure to ask about ‘handling fees’ or what happens if you take a break from flying. There are schools that claim they continue to ‘manage’ the funds by taking a percent- age even when you are not flying. Also, ask about a refund policy. If you find out you need to stop because of a medical issue or major life expense, you’ll ask for your unspent funds. A fee might apply and you will lose a percentage even if you’ve only had one lesson. Some schools may not refund at all. Read the fine print on the con- tract before you hand over any money. Do not put more money on account than you can afford to lose.

This column first ran in the June 2023/Issue 938 print edition of FLYING.

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