• READ MORE: What Is the Rudder Used for in Flying?

Answer: According to an FAA spokesperson:  “Generally speaking, the FAA will accept [a pilot’s] last airman certificate application (Form 8710-1) or what they reported on their last medical application (Form 8500-8).” You should have access to at least one of those documents.

Pro tip: Moving forward, you may want to invest in an electronic logbook and save the information to the cloud, or at least record a digital image of each page of the paper logbook when you fill it up. If you rent aircraft, sometimes you can re-create your experience by cross-referencing your receipts. 

• READ MORE: Is There an Official Weather Briefing?

Do you have a question about aviation that’s been bugging you? Ask us anything you’ve ever wanted to know about aviation. Our experts in general aviation, flight training, aircraft, avionics, and more may attempt to answer your question in a future article.

The post What to Do When You Lose Your Logbook appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

I am coming up on 21 years as a CFI, and there are stumbling blocks I’ve seen freshly minted CFIs trip over. Here are 12 suggestions to help make your journey as an educator a smooth one for both you and your learners:

1. Use a syllabus

Even if you were not trained with a syllabus, or the school you are working at is Part 61 and doesn’t require it, please use one, be it paper or electronic form. It will help you stay organized and deliver lessons in a logical order. Make sure your learners have a copy and bring it to lessons.

Pro tip: If your learners don’t have a copy of the syllabus, you’re not really using one with them. They need to have a copy for best results.

2. Introduce FAA certification standards on Day 1

The Airmen Certification Standards (ACS) is required reading for both the CFI and learner. A learner can’t perform to standard unless they know what those minimum standards are. The ACS spells them out quite clearly.

Don’t wait until just before the check ride to bring them out and apply them. Use the ACS in the pre-brief so the learner knows the metrics for which they are aiming.

• READ MORE: The Importance of Embracing Proficiency Culture

3. Stress the use of a checklist

This starts with the preflight inspection. Have the checklist in hand. Teach to the premaneuver, cruise, and of course, prelanding checklists as well. Emergency checklists should be memorized.

Bonus points: Show the learner the pages in the pilot’s operating handbook or Airplane Flying Handbook from which the preflight checklist was derived. Teach them to use that if the checklist disappears— as it often does at flight schools.

4. Teach weather briefing and aircraft performance

Teach the learner to obtain and interpret a weather briefing and to calculate aircraft performance from Day 1. Discuss weather minimums and how their personal minimums will change as their experience grows.

If the learner does not want to fly in certain weather—such as especially turbulent days or if the weather starts to go bad during a lesson—be ready to terminate. Flight instruction is about teaching good decision-making in addition to flying skills.

5. Manage your schedule for the learner’s benefit

While it is true that most CFIs are building time to reach the airlines, do not overload your schedule at the expense of the learner. The learner should be able to fly at least twice a week, though three times is optimal for best results. Manage your student’s load so you are flying six to eight hours a day—that’s a hard stop at eight hours.

Be ready to go at least 10 minutes before the learner arrives. That means scheduling lessons so the aircraft is on the ground at least 15 minutes before the next lesson so that it can be serviced if needed and you can take care of the debrief and logbook of the previous client. Be sure the person who does the scheduling understands the limitations of scheduling, such as when you timeout at eight hours.

Pro tip: The quickest way to lose a client—and possibly your job—is to disrespect a learner’s time. There will likely be a time when you miss a lesson or are late. Apologize and make it up to the learner by giving them a free lesson, even if it means you have to pay your employer for the use of the airplane and your time. You won’t like it, but it’s about character and doing what’s right, especially if the school has a “no-show, you-pay” policy for the learners.

• READ MORE: Separation Anxiety: When Your Instructor Moves on, Your Logbook Tells the Story

6. Don’t spend too much time on the controls

This is a hard habit to break. Try holding a writing implement in your hand while you hold your other arm across your body. If you are going to fold your arms on your chest, tell the learner it’s to show them you’re not on the controls.

Some people interpret this posture as being angry, so make sure you say something up front.

8. Eliminate the ‘pretty good’ metric

“Pretty good” is not a pilot report on weather conditions or an assessment of the learner’s performance. Teach them to be precise on weather observations, such as “light winds, ceiling at 3,000 feet,”, and for learner performance use metrics, such as “altitude within 200 feet,” for performance review.

Ask the learner how they would like feedback on their performance—in the moment or at the end of the lesson in the debrief. Some learners prefer the CFI to sit there quietly while they flail around with the controls. Others prefer real-time correction, such as “your heading is off by 10 degrees,” which allows them to fix it.

9. Don’t pass up the opportunity to teach a ground school

That is when you really find out if you really are a teacher of flight or a time builder. Teaching in the classroom and demonstrating something in the airplane involve vastly different skill sets.

Reading slides off a screen or material out of a book is not teaching. To be an effective teacher, the CFI needs to get the learners engaged in the material. The best teachers are memorable.

• READ MORE: Make Flight Reviews for CFIs Worthwhile

10. Allow the learners to make mistakes

Mistakes are part of learning. In aviation, they happen quite a bit, and as long as no metal is bent, no one is physically hurt, there is no property damage, or broken FARs, allow them to happen.

If things go badly and the learner is upset, the worst thing you can do is tell them to sit there while you fly back to the airport. This can destroy their confidence. Instead, try having the learner review and practice a maneuver already learned. Strive to always end the lesson on a positive note.

11. Plan for poor weather or mechanical delays

Always approach each day with two plans for each learner—flight or ground. Let the learner know in advance what the plans are: “If we fly, we will do this; if we cannot fly, we will do that.”

There is the option to cancel if the flight cannot be completed, but you should be prepared to teach. For example, if the weather is below minimums or an aircraft is down for maintenance and the shop rules permit it, take the learner into the hangar and do a practical pointing using the aircraft engine or cockpit instruments.

12. Make time for your own proficiency and currency

Protect your flying skills. You can do this in part by demonstrating takeoffs and landings or by asking the learner if they are OK with you doing a few at the end of the flight with the understanding you will be paying for that aircraft time and will adjust the bill accordingly.

Don’t neglect your instrument skills either. Use the advanced aviation training device (AATD) if the school has one and shoot a few approaches and holds a couple times a month, or pair up with another CFI during off-peak hours to do some real-world IFR flying.

An instrument rating is part of the requirement to be a CFI, so make sure you keep it ready for use.

This column first appeared in the Summer 2024 Ultimate Issue print edition.

The post Ultimate Issue: First Few Hours of Being a CFI Are the Hardest appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Answer: Rudder controls the side-to-side motion of the nose of the airplane—the technical term for this is yaw.

To make the airplane turn (bank), the pilot moves the yoke or stick in the direction they want to turn. This activates the ailerons, which are the outboard, moveable panels on the wings.

The downward-deflected panel is on the outside of the turn, and as the downward deflection increases the surface area of the wing, it generates more lift. The aircraft nose yaws toward the side with the wing generating more lift. From the pilot’s perspective, that yaw is in the opposite direction of the turn. As this turn is opposite to the direction of the turn the pilot wants, the technical term for this is adverse yaw. 

In the airplane, banking without using the rudders feels a little bit like someone pulling you sideways by the seat of your pants. It is poor airmanship as it results in an uncoordinated turn.

In an aircraft with a turn coordinator or slip skid indicator (the instrument that has a tube and ball in it that acts in response to lateral motion), note that if the airplane is banked only with aileron, the ball will be to the outside of the turn. To correct this, the pilot steps on the rudder on the same side the ball is deflecting to. This corrects the adverse yaw.  “Step on the ball” is the phrase you often hear. When flying an aircraft with a glass panel that has a triangle with a lateral moving base, the phrase “step on the line” is used.

The rudder controls the adverse yaw, and when correctly applied results in a coordinated (smoother) turn.

For more information refer to the Pilot’s Handbook of Aeronautical Knowledge (available on the FAA website or at brick-and-mortar stores) in Chapter 6, Flight Controls.

The post What Is the Rudder Used for in Flying? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Answer: It depends on your mission and how many Ben Franklins you have to spare. Your sferics (short for radio atmospherics) equipment may represent the only real-time weather you’ll ever see in your cockpit.

Sure, panel-mounted and portable weather systems deliver their product in a timely fashion, but it will never be as immediate as your sferics device. Once you understand how to interpret your real-time lightning guidance, it can become a valuable asset in your in-flight aviation toolkit. 

Choices in the Cockpit

You have two options if you want lightning data in the cockpit: You can choose from ground-based lightning sensors or onboard lightning detection from a sferics device such as a Stormscope.

A Stormscope provides real-time data but does require some basic interpretation. Ground-based lightning, on the other hand, is a bit delayed and is only available through a data link broadcast at this time. Ground-based lightning is normally coupled with other weather guidance, such as ground-based weather radar (NEXRAD), surface observations, pilot weather reports, and other forecasts.   

Ground-Based Lightning

The ground-based lightning that’s now available through the Flight Information System-Broadcast (FIS-B) comes from the National Lightning Detection Network (NLDN). This network of lightning detectors has a margin of error of 150 meters for locating a cloud-to-ground strike. The ground-based lightning sensors instantly detect the electromagnetic signals given off when lightning strikes the earth’s surface.    

With 150-meter accuracy, I’d choose ground-based lightning any day. Don’t get too excited, though. Ground-based lightning is expensive (the data is owned by private companies like Vaisala), and you’ll not likely see a high-resolution product in your cockpit anytime soon.

SiriusXM satellite weather pulls from a different lightning detection network and includes both cloud-to-ground and intracloud lightning. It produces a 0.5 nm horizontal resolution lightning product. This means that you will see a lightning bolt or other symbol arranged on your display in a 0.5 nm grid.

Even if 50 strikes were detected minutes apart near a grid point, only one symbol will be displayed for that grid point. Same is true for the FIS-B lightning.

Stormscope Advantages

A Stormscope must be viewed as a gross vectoring aid. You cannot expect to use it like onboard radar.

Nevertheless, it does alert you to thunderstorm activity and will provide you with the ability to see the truly ugly parts of a thunderstorm.  Where there’s lightning, you can also guarantee moderate or greater turbulence.   

No lightning detection equipment shows every strike, but the Stormscope will show most cloud-to-ground and intracloud strikes. This allows you to see the intensity and concentration of the strikes within a cell or line of cells with a refresh rate of two seconds. It also lets you see intracloud electrical activity that may be present in towering cumulus clouds even when no rain may be falling.

Even if no cloud-to-ground strikes are present, intracloud strikes may be present. The Stormscope can detect any strike that has some vertical component (most strikes do). This is important since there are typically more intracloud strikes than cloud-to-ground strikes.

To emphasize this point, most of the storms in the Central Plains have 10 times more intracloud strikes than cloud-to-ground strikes. Moreover, during the initial development of a thunderstorm, and in some severe storms, intracloud lightning may dominate the spectrum. 

Also keep in mind that a sferics device does not suffer from attenuation like onboard radar. That is, it can “see” the storm behind the storm to paint cells in the distance out to 200 nm, but it does not see precipitation or clouds.     

Stormscope Disadvantages

It doesn’t take a full-fledged storm, complete with lightning, to get your attention.

Intense precipitation alone is a good indicator of a strong updraft (or downdraft) and the potential for moderate to severe turbulence in the cloud. Consequently, the Stormscope does not tell you anything about the presence or intensity of precipitation or the absence of turbulence.

Never use the Stormscope as a tactical device to penetrate a line of thunderstorm cells. Visible gaps in the cells depicted on the Stormscope may fill in rapidly. Fly high and always stay visual and you will normally stay out of any serious turbulence.        

A Stormscope display is often difficult to interpret by a novice. Radial spread, splattering, buried cables, and seemingly random “clear air” strikes can create a challenge for the pilot. It may take a couple years of experience to be completely comfortable interpreting the Stormscope display. Often what you see out of your window will confirm what you see on your display.    

Radial Spread

As the name suggests, the biggest Stormscope error is the distance calculation along the radial from the aircraft.

The placement of the strike azimuthally is pretty accurate. However, how far to place the strike from the aircraft along the detected radial is a bit more complicated and prone to error.

Lightning strikes are not all made equally. When the sferics devices were invented back in the mid-1970s, they measured the distance of the cloud-to-ground strike based on the strength of the signal (amperage) generated by the strike. An average strike signature of 19,000 amperes is used to determine the approximate distance of the strike.

Statistically, 98 percent of the return strokes have a peak current between 7,000 and 28,000 amperes. That creates the potential for error in the distance calculation. This error is a useful approximation, however, in that strokes of stronger intensity appear closer and strokes of weaker intensity appear farther away. 

In strike mode on the Stormscope, strikes are displayed based on a specific strike signature, whereas cell mode on the newer Stormscope models uses a clustering algorithm that attempts to organize these strikes around a single location or cell.

Cell mode will even remove strikes that are not part of a mature cell. Most thunderstorm outbreaks are a result of a line of storms. Cell mode provides a more accurate representation to the extent of the line of thunderstorms.

Radial spread is not necessarily always a bad thing. You can use it to your advantage to distinguish between false or clear air strikes and a real thunderstorm. Most of the strikes of a real storm will be of the typical strike signature and be placed appropriately.

As mentioned above, stronger than average strikes will be painted closer to the airplane. Looking at this in strike mode, a line of these stronger strikes will protrude toward the aircraft.  The result is a stingray-looking appearance to the strikes.    

You can confirm this by clearing the display.  The same stingray pattern should reappear with the tail protruding once again toward the airplane.

Clear Frequently

Clearing the Stormscope display frequently is a must.  How quickly the display “snaps back” will provide you with an indication of the intensity of the storm or line of storms.

You should be sure to give these storms an extra-wide berth.  Clearing the Stormscope in “clear air” will also remove any false strikes that may be displayed allowing you to focus on real cells that may be building in the distance.

Aging

Both ground-based and onboard lightning use a specific symbol to indicate the age of the data.

For Stormscope data shown on the Garmin 430/530, a lightning symbol is displayed for the most recent strikes (first six seconds the symbol is bolded). The symbol changes to a large plus  sign after one minute followed by a small plus  sign for strikes that are at least two minutes old. Finally, it is removed from the display after the strike is three minutes old.

Cells with lots of recent strikes will often contain the most severe updrafts and may not have much of a ground-based radar signature. Cells with lots of older strikes signify steady-state rainfall reaching the surface that may include significant downdrafts. 

Flight Strategy

A nice feature of a Stormscope is that you can quickly assess the convective picture out to 200 nm while still safely on the ground. Same is true for lightning received from the SiriusXM datalink broadcast.

However, for those with lightning from FIS-B, you won’t receive a broadcast until you are well above traffic pattern altitude unless your departure airport has an ADS-B tower on the field.  

As soon as your Stormscope is turned on, within a few minutes you’ll get a pretty good picture of the challenging weather ahead. If you are flying IFR, you may want to negotiate your clearance or initial headings with ATC to steer clear of the areas you are painting on your display. I’ve canceled or delayed a few flights based strictly on the initial Stormscope picture while I was still on the ramp. 

Another goal is to fly as high as allowable. You will benefit from being able to get above the haze layer, and the higher altitude will allow you to see the larger buildups and towering cumulus from a greater distance.

If you are flying IFR and you are continually asking for more than 30 degrees of heading change to get around small cells or significant buildups, then you should call it quits. You are too close, or you are making decisions too late.

Visual or not, the goal is to keep the strikes (in cell mode) out of the 25-mile-range ring on your Stormscope. If one or two strikes pop into this area, don’t worry. Just keep most of the strikes outside of this 25-mile ring.      

Don’t discount the value of a sferics device.  Add one of the data link cockpit weather solutions as a compliment, and you will have a great set of tools to steer clear of convective weather all year long.

The post Is Sferics Equipment Still Needed in the Cockpit? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

The Atlantic hurricane season officially began June 1 and runs through November 30. While the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) has not released its official forecast for 2024 as of this writing, in an average Atlantic hurricane season the U.S. experiences 14 named storms, seven of which are hurricanes and three are major hurricanes.

Buckle up. Given the likely return of La Niña (one of three phases of the El Niño-Southern Oscillation) and record warm sea surface temperatures in February as heated as we see in mid-July, this is not good news if you were hoping for just a mediocre season. If you live and fly anywhere along the Atlantic coastal plain or the Gulf of Mexico, here’s how you can prepare for what may be a wild hurricane season.

Even though hurricane season peaks on September 10, the tropics will begin to see increased activity during the months of June, July, and August as sea surface temperatures increase and the jet stream migrates north into Canada, creating a more favorable breeding ground in the tropics. During this time, what are called tropical waves will develop in the Atlantic Ocean, Gulf of Mexico, and Caribbean Sea, forming in the tropical easterlies (winds moving from east to west). A weak area of low pressure with a closed circulation called a tropical depression may develop along one of these waves.

• READ MORE: The Ins and Outs of Pilot Weather Reports

If conditions are favorable, such as the presence of weak atmospheric wind shear over relatively warm waters, then convection can organize and strengthen into a tropical storm. Once it reaches tropical storm criteria, the National Hurricane Center (NHC) will give the storm a name. The first named storms of 2024 were Alberto and Beryl, with Chris, and Debby to follow. If you recognize a few of these names, be aware that the list is recycled every six years. The NHC points out that a name is removed from the list only “if a storm is so deadly or costly that the future use of its name for a different storm would be inappropriate for reasons of sensitivity.”

Saffir-Simpson Scale

Let’s become familiar with the Saffir-Simpson Hurricane Wind Scale. This scale from 1 to 5 was introduced in the early 1970s by the NHC, using estimates of peak wind, storm surge, and minimum central pressure to describe the destruction from both water and wind for tropical cyclones making landfall.

The Saffir-Simpson scale was simplified in 2010 to be solely determined by a one-minute-average maximum sustained wind at a height of 10 meters (33 feet) above ground level. Once a tropical cyclone reaches hurricane strength (sustained wind speed of 64 knots or greater), it is assigned a category, with a Category 1 hurricane being the weakest and a Category 5 hurricane being the strongest (sustained wind speed of 137 knots or greater). There has been some interesting discussion lately to expand this open-ended scale from 5 to 6 categories given that some of the strongest Category 5 hurricanes are well above that minimum threshold and may not truly capture the potential destruction. This change, however, is unlikely to occur any time soon.

• READ MORE: How to Wrap Your Head Around Weather

Next, you should become familiar with the NHC website, where you will find all of the official guidance published by NOAA. Each named storm, tropical depression, and tropical disturbance will be tracked along with public advisories, such as watches and warnings (e.g., hurricane watch) based on the threat to people and property. You’ll also find a public discussion for the tropics when there are no named storms and a discussion for each system being tracked.

Hurricane Graphics

One product that is ubiquitous during hurricane season is the tropical cyclone forecast cone graphic. This is designed to depict the expected track, location, and strength of the tropical cyclone over the next five days. It also shows the cone of uncertainty.

According to the NHC, “the cone represents the probable track of the center of a tropical cyclone where the entire track can be expected to remain within the cone roughly 60-70 percent of the time.” Of course, the cone tends to get wider with forecast lead time. In other words, there’s more certainty with a forecast that is valid in 48 hours (smaller cone) versus one that is valid in 120 hours (larger cone).

Currently, the graphic only includes those watches and warnings along coastal regions. Starting in 2024, the NHC will be issuing an experimental tropical cyclone forecast cone graphic that also includes inland tropical storm and hurricane watches and warnings in effect for the contiguous U.S. Recommendations from social science research suggest that the addition of inland watches and warnings to the cone graphic will help communicate inland wind risk during tropical cyclone events while not overcomplicating the current version of the graphic with too many data layers.

Electrification of Hurricanes

It’s probably not a surprise to hear that a healthy squall line moving through the Midwest can generate lightning at a rate of more than one strike per second for an extended period of time. But what about in a tropical storm or hurricane? You might be astonished to learn that, on average, a hurricane rarely produces more than a single lightning strike every 10 minutes. While there are some hurricanes and tropical storms that are highly electrified (especially when making landfall), don’t let your guard down—many are not.

No GA pilot is going to fly through the center of a tropical storm or hurricane on purpose. There’s typically plenty of advance warning from the NHC on the location and track of these powerful weather systems. However, once the tropical system makes landfall and weakens, how safe is it to fly through some of the precipitation remnants of the storm? A dissipating tropical system over land can contain some nasty convective turbulence and even small EF0 and EF1 tornadoes. Consequently, it is not unusual for the Storm Prediction Center (SPC) to issue a tornado watch for most tropical systems making landfall.

• READ MORE: Flying Through the Center of a Trough Should Have Been Uneventful

The precipitation signature as depicted on a ground-based radar mosaic associated with tropical cyclone remnants may not look too threatening to the average pilot.

First, it is often void of lightning, unlike what you might see with other convective outbreaks. Also, the automated surface observations in the area may only include +RA for heavy rainfall. In other words, you may not see +TSRA implying lightning exists as well as rain. Second, the ground-based radar mosaic may not have much of a true cellular structure with high reflectivity gradients that we often see with other deep, moist convection.

Despite the lack of lightning and a relatively benign-looking radar image, tropical system remnants should be treated as if they were that intense squall line in the Midwest. After such a tropical system makes landfall and begins to rapidly dissipate into a tropical depression or extra-tropical cyclone, it will move inland carrying similar risks.

This is evidenced by the remnants of Hurricane Katrina in 2005. This was a powerful storm that made landfall as a strong Category 3 hurricane at the end of August near New Orleans and moved north into the Tennessee and Ohio valleys as it dissipated.

Even after the storm was declared as extra-tropical, tornado watches were issued just to the east of Katrina’s track along the central and southern Appalachian Mountains and into the Mid-Atlantic. It is important to understand that the lack of lightning does not imply the lack of dangerous convective turbulence.

In order for lightning to form within deep, moist convection, three ingredients must be present in the right location of the cloud. This includes ice crystals, supercooled liquid water, and a “soft hail” particle called graupel.

Updrafts in tropical systems are actually quite limited, usually no more than 1,500 feet per minute. These updrafts are far from upright, owing to the strong horizontal wind shear present. According to hurricane researcher Dr. Robert Black, “while there is some presence of electrical fields, the graupel-liquid water-ice combination turns out to be at the wrong place at the wrong temperature and in insufficient volume to give the spatial charge distribution to produce a lightning discharge.”

In layman’s terms, little supercooled liquid water gets carried high enough to the level necessary to electrify the cloud. This continues to be true even after the tropical system makes landfall and dissipates inland.

The most serious electrification occurs in the outer rain bands as they spiral outward from the center of the storm. These can often look a lot like that Midwest frontal convection. Most convective cells along that squall line in the Great Plains or Midwest often move in a northeasterly direction based on the shift of the air mass and the winds aloft.

However, this may not be the case for these tropical cyclone bands. You may find these cells moving in a northerly or even westerly motion depending on the track of the tropical system.

Remain Outside of the Northeast Quadrant

If you split the storm into four quadrants based on its forward movement, the most intense atmospheric shear occurs in the northeast quadrant. This is typically where you will find the highest storm surge at landfall and where tornado watches are usually issued. As the system makes landfall, moves inland, dissipates, and becomes extra-tropical, you will find the northeast quadrant should be strictly avoided.

As we make our way through hurricane season this year, keep a close eye on the tropics and heed the guidance from the NHC. Even weak storms making landfall can add significant hazards for most aircraft. The convection associated with these storms is not the normal kind we experience during the warm season. Therefore, you can’t assume that the same ground-based signatures you might steer away from with normal convection will be present with this tropical convection.

Last, but not least, don’t use the lack of lightning to be your guide to determine what precipitation is safe to fly through. Assume there is ample wind shear in the atmosphere regardless of how it appears on radar. It may prove not to be a fair match for your aircraft or skill set.

This feature first appeared in the May 2024/Issue 948 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post Keeping an Eye on the Storm appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

It’s possible to safely and legally view the celebrations from the sky, as long as you take precautions and follow FAA guidelines, such as adherence to temporary flight restrictions (TFRs).

Planning Ahead

Your flight planning should begin several days in advance. The FAA has a TFR map that goes up in advance of commercial fireworks displays that notes the duration of the airspace restriction. Compare this to your planned route and note the time the fireworks show is scheduled to begin.

Please note that often the airspace closes down before the fireworks show start time in order to provide protection for television crews that may be covering the event from helicopters. 

Commercial fireworks displays occur relatively low to the ground. According to information from multiple commercial fireworks providers, such as Keystone Fireworks, Skylighter, and Pyro Innovations, professional fireworks are usually shot at an angle, such as 75 to 90 degrees, and go as high as 1,200 feet agl. Flying at least 2,000 feet agl should put you above the festivities.

Noncommercial Fireworks Displays

Some people who will use the open land of a nontowered airport to fire off their own personal fireworks. This may not be legal due to airport, county, or city ordinances. Check before you start lighting fuses.

For the pilots who are taking off and landing in the dark on July Fourth, beware of fireworks at ground level. This is particularly true at airparks. It can be exciting—and not in a good way—when a bottle rocket zips across the runway when you are on short approach. 

Challenges can continue the next morning if those who launched the fireworks don’t pick up the burned remains. You may find FOD on the runway and in the aircraft movement areas. 

One particularly troublesome device is the paper lantern, which is basically a hot-air balloon several feet in diameter made from tissue paper, balsa wood, and wire. They are often launched in groups but not recovered. Depending on the prevailing winds, they can come out of nowhere and drift across a taxiway or runway during aircraft operations. They may seem benign, but that wire can damage your propeller.

Safety in the Air

Although you don’t have to file a flight plan to observe fireworks from the air, it may be a good idea to obtain flight following to give you another set of eyes on the traffic. Keep your head on a swivel looking outside and have the ADS-B up and running because it is highly likely there will be other aircraft up there with you on the same mission.

While it can be impressive to watch multiple fireworks displays from the air, it is definitely a different sensory experience than from the ground. You won’t hear them explode from the air. It is a bit like watching TV with the sound off. You also won’t smell the gunpowder, which to some adds to the intensity of the holiday experience.

The post What to Know When Sharing the Sky With Fireworks appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

My dad and grandpa’s Cessna 172 Skyhawk XP, with its delightfully itchy sheepskin seats and the “Please step outside to smoke” sign on the dash, introduced me to aviation as a 7-year-old. I would practice ELT searches with my dad, organize Jeppesen charts, and try to read the instruments just like he would.

And being a kid in the ’80s, buzzing soccer games and friends’ houses only helped cement a love of aviation—and, as it turned out, adrenaline. I assumed that my dad’s skillful IFR landings and the rigor applied to his Civil Air Patrol work were the norm for pilots.

With grandpa’s passing, the C-172 went away. We didn’t have much extra money, so Saturday morning flights became a thing of the past. I grew up and eventually started a company and had some kids and raced some cars. I knew enough about being a pilot that I would not have the time to fly consistently and, therefore, I would not learn to fly well. As the company did better, I would dry lease or fly on fractionals to meetings and races. I wouldn’t think about the pilot we hired, the maintenance record of the airplane, or how young the pilot in command was. I was just excited to be in a small airplane again.

• READ MORE: Finding a Deer in the Headlights

The first lesson to pay attention came in the form of an early delivery Eclipse 500. I often dry leased a Malibu and hired a pilot (its owner). I enjoyed the steep approaches to Truckee, California (KTRK), and talking shop as I flew in the right seat with him. Each flight was an informal lesson. Soon, his Malibu went away, and a brand-new fast and high Eclipse 500 took its place. The idea of a very light jet (VLJ) was intoxicating. So much so that I never once questioned his ability to step up from the Malibu, nor did I question the sea of yellow “INOP” stickers that littered the panel of this dubiously certified little jet.

He and I were flying a short hop from McClellan Airfield (KMCC) in Sacramento, California, to the 3,300-foot strip at Gnoss Field (KDVO) in Marin County. Prior to takeoff, reports of fog made Gnoss a no-go, so we planned to fly an even shorter hop to Napa County (KAPC), which, it turns out, was also in the fog.

I sat in the right seat, and we talked about the new little jet’s systems. I admired the cockpit layout and the elegant sidestick jutting out from my right armrest. As we came in for the approach to Napa, there was thick fog for miles. I assumed it was a high layer and we’d punch right through just like dad used to. The pilot descended into the fog, and I did my job being a quiet passenger. In a slightly stressed tone, he asked if I could see the runway. Runway? We’re still way deep in the thick of the fog. And then there it was, still shrouded in fog, maybe 400 feet below and well to the right of us. I pointed it out as the numbers passed by us, and the airplane aggressively turned to line up with the still-shrouded runway. There was no way we were going to try to land, right?

• READ MORE: Beloved Flight Instructor’s Lessons Continue to Replay in Airline Captain’s Head

Thankfully, the pilot chose to go around. We went around on a steep climb to the right. And that’s when I heard the stern voice of the ATC—who I would soon find out was sitting in the tower…to our right—tell us that the go-around was to the left, and it’s critical to know and follow go-around procedures. We climbed back out of the clouds, he lined it back up, and we tried it again. Nope. Then again.

The third time, it went worse. The runway was nowhere in sight. The pilot muttered something about how we need to be careful as there are antennas nearby. We finally see the ground, which I think was somewhere between Runways 18L and 6. He went around again…to the right. The controller was now aggressively chastising him on the radio when I realized that we were still low and still turning and now in a banked descent somewhere near the tower and Runway 6. I looked up (yes, up) through the windshield and saw an access road and grass at a very odd angle to the panel. We weren’t level nor straight. And there is a tower somewhere to our left.

I knew enough about flying that this is a view that not many see from the windscreen of a jet a couple of hundred feet off the ground and can talk about later. My confidence that the pilot was in control was near zero. I knew that we needed to level the wings and pull back ASAP. I had the clarity of mind (thanks be to evolution for situations such as these) to know that grabbing that elegant little sidestick would probably kill us. Or then again, maybe it would save us.

The cliches of time slowing down and life flashing before my eyes proved to be true. My fingers opened inches from the stick, and I looked left to the pilot’s hands to see if he was going to level us first. I would give him exactly one second before I’d yell, “My plane!” I know, this is a supremely dumb idea. My brain was very much in “don’t-die” mode. Thankfully, he didn’t freeze up. He flew the airplane out of the situation that he got us into.

We climbed out as the controller gathered himself and offered a different type of IFR approach. I didn’t understand this exchange. What are we using? To this day I have no idea how he was navigating. Whatever was offered by the concerned controller was declined.

We rose above the clouds and were silent. Neither of us wanted to talk about what had just happened, so I asked him to go back to McClellan.

“Can’t. Not enough fuel,” the pilot responded.

I asked if we could declare an emergency and land at Travis Air Force Base (KSUU). That runway has to be a mile wide and 3 miles long.

“No,” he said.

What? Why would we depart Sacramento and into Napa’s fog with a thimble full of jet fuel?

We had to go back in for another try. I was not excited about this, so I just shut my mouth and did my best to spot the runway. Due to the stress of the situation, I have little recollection of that landing other than the controller talking him through it and, in a wise act of self-preservation, reminding him that the go-around procedure is to the left.

I learned about flying from that. Know your pilot. That was the last day I ever flew with or talked to him. And I never received an invoice.

The next lesson about flying regarded the airplane, not the pilot. The pilot was new to me, and lessons learned, I asked many questions about him and those who knew and recommended him. He was an instructor, A&P mechanic, military, commercial, with tens of thousands of hours over the decades. This was no hobby; this was his career. However, the airplane he was going to fly was a recent JetProp-converted Malibu. All the pilots talked about how fast and fun it was to fly. The giant exhaust sticking out of the cowling and expansive glass cockpit won me over.

He flew me from Truckee to Bakersfield, California (KBFL), so I could test a race car at the track in nearby Buttonwillow. The flight down was fast and comfortable for a solo passenger. When the day at the track was done, I made my way back to Bakersfield and climbed into the JetProp. The pilot did his walk-arounds, safety checks, and used checklists. I like this guy. We took off into the moonless black night over central California and left the lights of Bakersfield behind. I was tired, so I sat in the rear-facing seat and kicked my legs up. I was looking at the scattered lights of a few farmhouses far below. It was dark. It seemed too dark. I then noticed that there were no lights on the wingtip.

That’s odd.

I looked over my shoulder to the pilot and saw no lights on the panel either. He was digging through his duffle, so I used my phone to light the cockpit. He grabbed a flashlight and a hand-held radio and visually swept the panel. A lone old-school artificial horizon was installed to the far right of the new glass panel. It was in the worst possible position for a single pilot in the left seat, flying on a moonless night over dark farmland.

The pilot calmly radioed an emergency and climbed higher to give us the best possible chances if the engine stopped turning. Unfortunately, the radio was low on batteries, so he could only make a short call before it died. He would leave it off for a bit and then turn it back on for a short transmission.

He continued to fly the airplane, scan the instruments with his flashlight, and try to restart the electrical system to no avail. He kept calm despite some (actually, a lot of) sweat. The emergency gear extension knob was used, and two clunks were heard—but not three. He turned the radio back on and requested a flyby to see if the nose gear was actually down. As he approached the tower, the emergency lights on the runway lit up the night as fire trucks and ambulances staged themselves along the taxiways.

The tower controllers apparently didn’t know where we were, and we flew right by in the dark and didn’t get a gear-down affirmation signal. I assumed radar would tell them where we were, but it didn’t seem like they were able to see us. The pilot kept scanning the panel, flying the airplane, and checking altitude to ensure that we were still within glide distance of the airport. As he flew the pattern it was eerily dark, so I stared at my phone and contemplated texting my wife.

He flew a perfect approach. As we descended over the sea of emergency lights, he held the airplane a few feet off the runway and landed long in order to bleed speed then gently set down on the mains. He then held the nosewheel up until he could gently set it down. Like butter. The gear held. I clearly had the right pilot for the situation. We taxied off the runway, and he shut down the engine on the taxiway—and it got very dark around us once again.

The downside to landing long is that no one saw us. The controllers would later share that they assumed we were down out in the dark desert. The runway was so long and wide, this tiny unlit airplane was easy to miss as it landed long right down the center while they were scanning the skies.

Someone radioed to the emergency crews that they thought they saw someone. All the emergency trucks started racing down the taxiways. The pilot yelled for the first time. “Get out of the airplane! They don’t see us!”

After all this, we were about to be run over by one or more well-meaning, 70,000-pound fire trucks. We ran from the airplane into the grass as their lights finally spotted our darkened plane, and they slammed on their brakes.

I rented a Nissan Sentra and drove the six hours home.

I had vetted the pilot but did not vet the airplane beyond admiring the panel and that sexy exhaust. A short had killed its generator, inverter, and battery. I should not have chosen to fly on a recently converted airplane until hundreds of flight hours had passed.

Passengers should educate themselves to vet both plane and pilot. The admiration and trust we have for both is well earned but should not be universally applied.

This column first appeared in the May 2024/Issue 948 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post Everyone Should Pay Close Attention in the Cockpit appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Answer: The pilot in question may have made a pilot deviation—like being at the wrong altitude—and was warned by air traffic control: “We have a number for you to copy, possible pilot deviation.”

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It is called a “Brasher warning” as it was named after Captain Jack Brasher, a former Republic Airlines pilot who allegedly deviated from an assigned altitude during a flight between Chicago and Minneapolis-St. Paul in 1985.

According to the FAA, the deviation was approximately 700 feet. The crew was not informed of the deviation during the flight or after landing. Several months later, Brasher received notification that the FAA was investigating the alleged incident.

Given that several months and several hundred hours of flight had passed, neither Brasher nor his first officer had a clear recollection of the event.

• READ MORE: How Do I File a Pilot Weather Report Online?

The FAA determined that had the controller brought it to their attention immediately, the crew would have remembered the event and the circumstances surrounding it. Thus the procedure for immediate notification with the phrase “possible pilot deviation” was developed.

According to the FAA, the Brasher warning is not intended to be punitive but rather the goal is to gather information in a matter-of-fact way and learn from deviations to enhance safety.

The post What Is a Brasher Warning? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

It was about 1 o’clock in the morning. The air on the surface was warm and humid. If he checked the weather—there was no evidence that he did—he would have expected to find widespread but patchy cloudiness over the route of flight and at the destination. In some places clouds were broken or scattered with tops at 3,000. Elsewhere buildups climbed into the flight levels. Ceilings and visibilities under the clouds were good, at worst 700 feet and 5 miles. The temperature and the dew point were only 3 degrees apart, however, and there was a slightly increased risk of fog formation owing to, of all things, particulate pollution from dust blown in from the Sahara.

During the short flight, he climbed to 3,600 feet, probably to get above some cloud tops. It was pitch-dark as the crescent moon was far below the horizon. As he neared his destination he descended to 1,500 msl, 1,300 feet above the terrain, and reduced his groundspeed from 175 knots to 100 knots.

The airstrip at which he intended to land was 3,500 feet long, 40 feet wide, and had a light gray concrete surface oriented 4/22. Other than a hangar on an apron at midfield, there were no structures on the airport and no edge lights along the runway.

The only lights were red ones marking the runway ends. The surrounding area was largely dark. Sam Rayburn Reservoir sat close by to the north and east, a vast region of uninterrupted black. Parallel to the runway, about half a mile north, was State Highway 147, lighted only by the headlamps of infrequently passing cars.

• READ MORE: Two Fatal Cases of the Simply Inexperienced

For almost an hour, the pilot flew back and forth over the airstrip, tracing a tangled path of seemingly random right and left turns. His altitude varied between 350 and 1,100 feet agl and his groundspeed between 65 and 143 knots. His ground track, as recorded by ATC radar, suggested no systematic plan, but it was broadly centered on the northeast end of the runway.

The last return from the Saratoga, recorded 54 minutes after it arrived over the field, put it 9,700 feet from the northeast end of the runway on a close-in extended left downwind leg for Runway 22 at a height of 350 feet agl and a groundspeed of 94 knots. The Saratoga was below radar for the remainder of the flight.

Its burned wreckage was found at the southern edge of the clear-cut area surrounding the runway, several hundred feet short of the threshold. A trail of parts led back across the clear-cut to its north side, where the airplane had clipped a treetop at the edge of the woods. From the orientation of the wreckage path, it appeared that the Saratoga may have overshot the centerline on base and was correcting back toward the approach end lights when it struck the tree.

In the course of the accident investigation, it emerged that the airplane was out of annual, its last inspection having occurred in 2017, the registration had expired, and the pilot’s medical was out of date. The pilot had 400 hours (estimated) but did not have an instrument rating and, in fact, had only a student certificate. The autopsy turned up residues of amphetamine, methamphetamine, and THC (the psychoactive component of cannabis), but investigators did not rule out the possibility that the drugs could have had a therapeutic purpose.

• READ MORE: Three-Mile Limit: Novice Pilots Succumb to the Perils of Total Darkness

The National Transportation Safety Board’s report on the accident declines to speculate on whether the drugs impaired the pilot in any way. In fact, the NTSB report concedes that “the pilot’s aircraft handling was not deficient relative to his limited experience of flying in night instrument conditions and the prolonged period of approach attempts.” The finding of probable cause cited only the pilot’s “poor decision-making as he attempted to land at an unlit airstrip in night instrument conditions.”

The pilot bought the Saratoga in 2016 and then took flying lessons, but he stopped short of getting the private certificate. His instructor said he had never given him any instrument training. The pilot’s wife said that he “normally” flew to the airport at night and circled down until he could see the runway.

The airport was in Class G airspace. What the cloud conditions were we don’t know—the nearest automated reporting station was 24 nm away—and so we don’t know whether the Saratoga was ever in clouds and, if so, for how long. Maneuvering around at low level for nearly an hour in darkness and intermittent IMC would be taxing even for many instrument-rated pilots, and so it seems likely that if the pilot was in clouds at all, it was only for brief periods.

• READ MORE: Fatal Cirrus Accident Shows That Some Knowledge Doesn’t Translate

Two things strike me about this accident. First, how close it came to not happening: If the pilot hadn’t clipped the tree, he might have made the turn to the runway successfully and landed without incident, as he apparently had done in the past. Second, that he had ever managed the trick at all. I can only suppose that the contrast between the runway clear-cut and the surrounding forest was discernible when there was moonlight and that he was able to use GPS and the runway’s end lights to get himself to a position where his landing light would illuminate the runway.

Rugged individualism being, supposedly, an American virtue, I leave it to you to applaud or deplore the nonconformist aspects of this pilot’s actions. Perhaps a certain amount of freelancing is inevitable in an activity like flying. But I deprecate his persistence. One of the essential arrows in every pilot’s quiver should be knowing when to quit. He set himself a nearly impossible goal, and after flying half an hour to his destination, he spent an hour trying to figure out how to get onto the ground.

If it was that difficult, it wasn’t worth doing. There were other airports—with runway lights—nearby.

At the time of the crash, the pilot was awaiting the decision of a Houston court in a wrongful  termination lawsuit that he had filed against a former employer. Five months later, the court found in his favor to the tune of $143 million. Thanks to a terminal case of “get-homeitis,” however, he wasn’t there to enjoy it.

Note: This article is based on the National Transportation Safety Board’s report of the accident and is intended to bring the issues raised to our readers’ attention. It is not intended to judge or reach any definitive conclusions about the ability or capacity of any person, living or dead, or any aircraft or accessory.

This column first appeared in the May 2024/Issue 948 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post A Cautionary Tale About Pilot Freelancing appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

A) Multiple IAF Points

IAF points are denoted at CLBRT, WCKHM, HOODE, JASAI, or even the WITTO waypoint for this approach. The approach is set up so that a pilot can transition onto this approach from virtually any direction. From any of these points, you can transition to WITTO waypoint and inbound on the approach. All of them indicate that NoPT (No Procedure Turn) is required except the WITTO waypoint. Joining here would require a hold entry be conducted at or above the minimum published hold altitude at WITTO.

B) Terrain to the West

A variety of denoted elevation features are included on the chart as a reminder that there is higher terrain out to the west. Some of this terrain is higher than approach path altitudes, so don’t stray off course.

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C) Descents Through Waypoints

Pilots transitioning through the CLBRT, WCKHM, HOODE, or JASAI waypoints will be at altitudes of 5,100 feet msl or 4,300 feet msl. After WITTO, there is a stepdown that will have a pilot descend to 3,400 feet. After ECEUS they can go down to 2,400 feet, and after the FAF at MUSOJ farther descent is possible to minimum descent altitude (MDA). This continued stepdown requires a pilot to plan and manage their configuration and power settings to stay above minimums while then reestablishing descents to the next lowest altitude. Don’t descend too early, but don’t get behind the airplane either.

D) Turns Along the Final Approach Path

From the WITTO waypoint, a pilot would fly a track of 209 degrees through ECEUS and to the MUSOJ waypoints, but here a turn is required. From MUSOJ, a track of 196 degrees is required through WUBAK and to the ORMEY final waypoint, where a pilot would go missed if they did not have the runway environment in sight. Don’t miss the turns to follow the course on this approach.

E) Offset Final Approach Course

A note on the chart indicates that the final approach course is offset 14.51 degrees. A pilot might surmise this is going to be the case when the final approach inbound course is 196 degrees for a Runway 21, but this is a good thing to highlight. Be ready for the last leg of your approach to not align exactly with the runway.

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F) LP or LNAV…No Glideslope

While many GPS approaches have LPV minimums given, where a pilot can expect a glideslope that is WAAS based, that is not the case here. While greater lateral WAAS minimums are available, as denoted by the availability of LP minimums, a glideslope should not be expected. If your GPS system offers one, it will be only a suggested glideslope and would not lead a pilot to a “decision altitude.” This approach includes only MDA minimums.

• READ MORE: Chart Wise: New Orleans VOR DME 36L (KNEW)

G) Missed Approach Is to a VOR

While this is an RNAV GPS-based approach, if a pilot has to go missed, they will actually be transitioning to a VOR for their hold unless otherwise vectored. The GVE VOR has a depicted hold of 033 degrees inbound. The good news is that you aren’t required to do the hold using the VOR; you can still use your GPS to fly this hold. It is noted as a 4 nm hold, not a traditional timed holding procedure.

This column first appeared in the May 2024/Issue 948 of FLYING’s print edition.

The post Chart Wise: Charlottesville RNAV (GPS)-Y Rwy 21 appeared first on FLYING Magazine.