• 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.

“Thank goodness you use paper,” he said, going on to tell me that he wanted to learn using paper sectionals and navlogs, and once he mastered those, he might move into using an electronic flight bag (EFB).

He said he wanted to learn to use analog tools because that’s how he processed information best. Also, he said he knew devices could fail or go missing, and if you don’t have an analog backup, the mission would be over. He worked in the tech industry (space flight), where equipment and technology failures are planned for.

I have no problem teaching with paper. With primary learners, I prefer it, as learning to flight plan the “old-school” way provides a good base on which technology can be added at a later date.

According to multiple CFIs and DPEs I know, many pilots who are solely training using EFBs and an app for their cross-country planning are often weak in the elements of a VFR flight plan because they never learned how to do it beyond putting information into a computer and letting the app do its magic. They often do not understand where the data comes from, which makes it difficult to know if it is corrupt or incorrect for the given situation.

The Airman Certification Standards (ACS) note that the EFB is permitted, as the focus of that portion is that the applicant “demonstrate satisfactory knowledge of cross-country flight planning.” That includes route planning, airspace, selection of appropriate and available navigation/communication systems and facilities, altitude accounting for terrain, effects of wind, time to climb and descent rates, true course, distances, true heading, true airspeed and ground speed, estimated time of arrival, fuel requirements, and all other elements of a VFR flight plan.

It’s difficult to learn this past rote memory when the computer does all the planning for you. This is why many CFIs opt to teach both methods, and often begin with the basics, a paper sectional and looking out the window before adding in the use of the EFB. 

Analog Cross-Country Flight Planning

Flight planning begins with a paper sectional, navlog, plotter, and mechanical E6-B. I’m a fan of the E6-B because the wind side is very useful for determining crosswind components.

The instructions for the use of the device are printed on it. All the calculations are basically math story problems, and the instructions walk you through the process. The plotter also has instructions printed on it. The informational boxes on the paper navlog are labeled so you know where to put the information.

The lesson begins with reading the empty navlog. The CFI explains the terms true course, variation, magnetic heading, deviation, and compass heading. Now flip over the E6-B to the wind side, where the formulas for calculating this information are printed. Identify the directions for determining ground speed and wind-correction angle, noting that process is also printed on the device. 

• READ MORE: How To Use a E6B Flight Computer

Now it’s time to spread out the sectional and get to work, picking landmarks to use as check points for pilotage, determining the true course, finding the deviation, etc. The filling out of the navlog begins with the recording of the checkpoints and measuring distances between them. Put this information in the appropriate boxes. Always do this process in pencil and have an eraser handy.

Make sure the destination meets the definition of a cross-country flight for the certificate you seek. For private pilot airplane, it is 50 nm straight-line distance, and for sport pilots, 25 nm. Be sure you are using the correct scale on the plotter. 

I walk the learners through the first two lines of the navlog. This takes them from the departure airport to the top of climb, and then the first leg of the flight. Once the navlog is filled out, we go to the performance section of the POH to determine true airspeed (TAS), fuel burn, and time to climb. 

• READ MORE: Make Friends With the E6B

The wind side of the mechanical E6-B  is used to determine the wind correction angle. Pro tip: if you will be using more than one set of wind values for the flight, give them distinct symbols on the E6-B, such as an “X” for the winds at 3,000 feet and a “dot” for the winds at 6,000 feet.

Make sure to note the winds and the symbol on the navlog and do not erase the wind marks until after the completion of the flight. This is important, because if you need to divert (and you will have to demonstrate this on your check ride), you don’t want to lose time re-marking the wind dot on the E6-B.

Many learners find analog flight planning fun. There certainly is a sense of accomplishment after you’ve learned what makes a good checkpoint, how to measure the distances, determine aircraft performance and— the big kahuna— how to “spin the winds” on the mechanical E6-B to determine ground speed and time en route. Yes, those instructions are printed on the face of the device.

Applicants, please make sure you can navigate when technology—particularly the GPS—is taken away. By the way, DPEs are permitted to fail devices during the check ride. Fair warning: Don’t be the applicant who pulls out a second iPad or cell phone as backup because you’re missing the point. 

Putting all your eggs in the tech basket isn’t going to help when the iPad overheats, there is a signal outage, or the device is otherwise rendered unusable. If you don’t have the ability to navigate by pilotage or the compass, are you really qualified to be in that cockpit?

Benefits of the EFB

The EFB is more environmentally friendly than paper charts and sectional because you don’t have to cut down trees to get the information. Updating the information is easier as it can be done with a keystroke rather than a purchase, and it creates a more organized cockpit as the tablet stores the information and it can be accessed with a swipe of a finger rather than doing an advanced yoga pose in flight to reach for your flight bag.

The tablets come in several sizes, and there are many options for mounting them, including yoke or kneeboard. I’m not a fan of the suction-cup-on-the-windscreen method as that blocks part of your view outside.

If you opt for a yoke-mounted unit, make sure it doesn’t interrupt the travel of the yoke or stick or put the aircraft in a permanent bank. There are some tablets that are just too large for the cockpit. If you opt for a kneeboard-mounted device, make sure your kneeboard holds it securely and the kneeboard stays in place.

• READ MORE: Who Wins the Battle of the Aviation Kneeboards?

As far as  data plans for navigation applications, you may find that the annual cost is competitive with that of replacing the paper sectionals and chart supplements.

The EFB is a wonderful tool, but like all tools it can be misused. It shouldn’t become a crutch for the pilot who has forgotten how to read a sectional because of disuse. Don’t be that pilot who becomes so reliant on technology for navigation that you forget to look out the window. 

The post The Wisdom in Not Putting All Your Eggs in the Tech Basket 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.

I looked off the extended centerline hoping to see the landing light of the twin. No joy. The skies were hazy due to forest fire smoke, and the light was flat because it was late afternoon and, frankly, it was difficult to see anything.

The C-172 pilot reduced engine power and configured the aircraft for a descent. Normal procedures called for losing 200 to 300 feet of altitude then turning base when the runway was at a 45-degree angle to the aircraft.

“Do you see the twin?” I asked, because I still didn’t have a visual. 

“Nope,” the pilot said, stopping the descent. “I’m not turning base until I see him. I’m not going to do a Watsonville.”  

• READ MORE: Avoiding Mid-Airs: Safety in the Practice Area

We continued on an extended downwind for another 10 seconds, then the pilot of the C-172 decided to break off the approach and depart to the west. He told me he planned to reenter on the 45. As he rolled wings level to the west, we finally saw the twin—on short final. 

Watsonville

“Watsonville” refers to an August 2022 midair collision between a Cessna 152 and a Cessna 340A at Watsonville Municipal Airport (KWVI) in California. Three people and a dog were killed.

The National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) released the final report on the accident earlier this year. All accident reports present an opportunity to learn. What I learned from this one is that in aviation you can be doing everything right, but if someone else does something wrong, you can still get hurt. 

Deconstructing Watsonville

According to the NTSB, on August 18, 2022, around 3 p.m. PDT the pilot of the C-152 was in the pattern for Runway 20 as the pilot of the C-340A was attempting a straight in. It was a VFR day. Both pilots were communicating on the common traffic advisory frequency (CTAF).

The pilot of the C-152 was flying in the traffic pattern of the nontowered airport and making position reports on the airport’s CTAF. The pilot of the twin made an initial radio call 10 miles from the airport announcing his intentions to perform a straight approach for Runway 20. The pilot of the C-152 was flying the pattern for Runway 20. He made position reports as he turned on each leg of the pattern—as a well-trained pilot does. 

I listened to the  recordings of the CTAF on LiveATC.com after the event. The C-152 pilot’s radio calls were concise and informative.

Just after the pilot of the twin reported a 3-mile final, the pilot of the C-152 announced he was turning left base for Runway 20. Around 19 seconds later, the twin pilot reported that he was a mile from the airport. The last transmission of the C-152 pilot noted how quickly the larger airplane was coming up behind him and announced he was going around. 

The Cessna twin hit the C-152 from behind. The aircraft collided less than a mile from the runway at an altitude of approximately 150 feet above ground. There were several witnesses on the ground, and the collision was caught on security cameras near the airport.

The Aftermath

Investigators using ADS-B data determined the twin was at a ground speed of 180 knots, more than twice that of the C-152 on approach and considerably faster than the normal C-340A approach speed of 120 knots. 

The examination of the wreckage revealed the twin’s wing flaps and landing gear were both retracted at the time of the collision, which is consistent with the pilot’s failure to configure the airplane for landing. Normal flap extension speed for the C-340A is 160 knots, and the landing gear extension is 140 knots. Investigators noted that the faster speed reduced the pilot’s time to see the smaller aircraft. 

Witnesses on the ground reported the twin veered to the right at the last second, but it wasn’t enough to avoid the smaller, slower aircraft.

The NTSB determined the probable cause of the accident to be “the failure of the pilot of the multiengine airplane to see and avoid the single-engine airplane while performing a straight-in approach for landing.”

Applying Lessons at Home

That Watsonville accident was talked about for weeks at my home airport as there are a few light twins based there. These airplanes often do straight-in approaches, or fly the RNAV 35 in VFR conditions. It is legal for them to do so. 

One of the lessons I impart is for the learners to pay attention to the make of aircraft as well as their distance from the runway during position reports. “Cessna twin” tells me that it is faster and larger than the Cessna 100 series aircraft I normally fly. Conversely, if I hear “yellow Cub,” I know to keep looking for slower traffic.

Right of Way

Clearing the area before you turn is one of the first lessons a pilot learns. It is the aviation version of look before you cross the street.

One of my best learners, an Army helicopter pilot going for her fixed wing add-on, had this down cold. She was used to flying in a multicrewed environment so she would say, “Look left, clearing left, coming left,” then make the turn. If there was another aircraft, she’d announce, “Not clear to the left, not sure if he sees me,” then she would turn to avoid the other aircraft, often taking us in the opposite direction or changing altitude. This was even if we technically had the right of way, per FAR 91.113.

FAR 91.113 states: “When weather conditions permit, regardless of whether an operation is conducted under instrument flight rules or visual flight rules, vigilance shall be maintained by each person operating an aircraft so as to see and avoid other aircraft.” It is difficult to avoid the other aircraft if you don’t see them—and don’t count on ADS-B as a crutch, as some aircraft are not equipped with it. You still need to keep your eyes outside.

The details of FAR 91.113 state which aircraft have right-of-way over others. Basically, the least maneuverable, such as a glider (no engine for go-around) or airship (those things are slow), have the right of way over an airplane, unless the airplane is being towed, refueled, or is in distress. 

FAR 91.113 also states that the aircraft being overtaken has the right of way—as the C-152 did in Watsonville. But the rules don’t help if the pilot of the other aircraft doesn’t see you. 

Instead of potentially putting yourself in front of a faster, larger aircraft, take precautionary evasive action, even if you do technically have the right of way. There are a lot of rights worth dying for. Right of way is not one of them.

The post Remembering Right of Way and Steering Clear of a ‘Watsonville’ appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

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According to the final report from the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) released Thursday, the control lock was still installed when Snodgrass attempted to take off in his SIAI Marchetti from Nez Perce County Airport (KLWS) in Lewiston, Idaho. This prevented Snodgrass from lowering the nose when the aircraft pitched up aggressively after takeoff, then entered a stall-spin situation from which it was not recovered.

The report says the airplane was equipped with a flight control-lock system that immobilized the aileron and elevator controls but still allowed for near-full movement of the rudder and tailwheel. This made it possible for the pilot to taxi the aircraft.

The flight control system consisted of a pivoting, U-shaped control lock tube mounted permanently to the rudder pedal assembly with a forward-facing locking arm mounted to the pilot’s control stick. 

The post-crash investigation found evidence that the control lock was still engaged at the time of the crash. The NTSB noted, “Had the lock been stowed during impact, it would have been pinned under the flight control stick, crushed longitudinally, and its retaining clip would have been deformed; however, the control lock and its retaining clip were essentially undamaged, and the lock was found raised off the floor.”

The report continues, “Given this information, it is likely that the control lock was installed on the flight control stick during takeoff and impact. High-resolution security camera footage of the accident revealed no discernable movement of the elevators or ailerons, further suggesting that the flight controls were immobilized by the control lock.”

Investigators noted that the pitch trim of the accident aircraft was found in an almost full nose-down position, suggesting that Snodgrass may have been attempting to use the trim to arrest the airplane’s increasing nose-up attitude due to the locked control stick. 

What Happened

Video of the June 24, 2021, accident shows Snodgrass initiating an intersection takeoff from Runway 12. The takeoff roll consists of about 400 feet before the aircraft lifts off, pitching nose-up at about a 45-degree angle. The aircraft is still climbing when at an altitude of about 80 feet agl, it then rolls 90 degrees to the left and the nose drops. The aircraft continued to roll to the left as it plunged to the ground, hitting the dirt in a nose-down attitude. There was a post-impact fire.

Snodgrass was in communication with the tower at the time of the accident. He acknowledged the takeoff clearance and an advisory for a frequency change, and then let out expletives as he lost control of the aircraft.

Snodgrass was a real-life Top Gun naval aviator, flying F-14s from carriers and later as an airshow demonstration pilot in vintage warbirds. At the time of the accident he had an estimated 6,500 hours of flight experience, of which 20 hours were in the accident airplane. 

Contemporaries of Snodgrass say he was known for being a meticulous pilot who did not rush preflight inspections.

As part of the investigation, the NTSB interviewed pilots who owned similar aircraft in regard to the control lock. It was noted that although the control lock is painted red, its orientation when engaged is difficult for a pilot to see from the cockpit.

According to the NTSB report, “A pilot who owned a similar airplane stated that he had once become distracted during preflight checks and was able to taxi, initiate takeoff, and become airborne with the control lock engaged. He stated that once he realized his mistake, removal of the lock was a struggle due to the forces imposed on the control stick during takeoff.”

The report suggests that Snodgrass did not perform a pre-takeoff control check, stating, “Had the pilot completed a functional check of the controls before initiating takeoff, the presence of the lock would have been detected and the accident would have been prevented.”

The post Crash That Killed Former Top Gun Naval Aviator Blamed on Control Lock appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

A: No. The regulations (FAR 91.103, on preflight action) require you to check weather reports and forecasts for IFR flights and those not in the vicinity of the airport but make no reference to Flight Service. It’s perfectly legal to go the self-briefing route before each flight using the comprehensive set of weather products available in your favorite aviation mobile app or website that come from government weather sources. The FAA released a new Advisory Circular in March 2021, AC 91-92, further clarifying this by stating that a “self-briefing may be compliant with current FARs” and “this allows Flight Service to become a consultative resource that can be utilized when needed.”

When conducting a self-briefing, it’s important that you add some structure to ensure no weather product or airspace restriction is overlooked. AC 91-92 provides guidance here, too, with a helpful checklist to follow and includes sources for everything from weather hazards to TFRs. The AC also makes it clear that Flight Service will continue to be available for those who prefer a traditional briefing. In some cases, it may be the only option when an internet connection isn’t available.

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, training, aircraft, avionics, and more may attempt to answer your question in a future article.

The post Is an iPad Weather Briefing Enough? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

You may enjoy flying now—but with an instrument rating, you will enjoy it more.

Getting an instrument rating is, indeed, a lot of work, but it is mixed with fun. Flying on instruments is like solving a challenging crossword puzzle. It’s a lot of effort, but it’s deeply rewarding. Plus, everything you learn in the process applies to the rest of your flying and makes it more exciting too. If you equip an airplane you own to do it, you will enjoy flying that airplane more from then on. 

Having an instrument rating makes your flying more useful and lets you fly more often in general. Learning instrument skills relieves stress when the weather is dicey and improves your safety on cross-country trips significantly. It has been demonstrated countless times that you simply can’t tell up from down in instrument weather conditions by looking out of the windows.

Plus, with an instrument rating, you’ll sound better on the radio, too.

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, training, aircraft, avionics, and more may attempt to answer your question in a future article.

The post Should You Get an Instrument Rating if You Don’t Want to Be a Professional Pilot? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

On January 13, 1982, the aircraft took off from Washington National Airport (KDCA) in a snowstorm and failed to climb. The airline collided with the 14th Street Bridge and plunged into the Potomac River. Only four of the 79 persons aboard the jet survived. Four people on the bridge were killed and four more injured.

Marking the 40th anniversary of the event this year, the NTSB released a blog titled “Progress Towards Eliminating Airline Icing Accidents” and written by Jeff Marcus, chief of the NTSB Safety Recommendations Division. In 1982, Marcus was employed by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration and was working in Washington, D.C. In his blog, he recalls the details of the accident and the attempts to reach those who survived the initial impact before they succumbed to the frigid waters of the Potomac. He also addresses how the deadly accident changed the way airframe icing is addressed on commercial airliners.

Aircraft accidents are rarely caused by a single event or decision. The NTSB has gone through this accident with painstaking detail and identified the issues presented so that other pilots can avoid these mistakes and mitigate risks. 

How it Happened

According to the official NTSB report, Air Florida Flight 90 was scheduled to fly from Washington, D.C. to Fort Lauderdale. The flight’s departure was delayed approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes because of heavy snowfall, which temporarily closed the airport. 

At approximately 2:20 p.m., the captain of Flight 90 requested that the aircraft be deiced because he wanted to be ready for takeoff when the airport reopened. The deicing process began on the left side of the aircraft. However, the captain asked that the process be terminated when it became clear that the airport was going to be shut down longer than anticipated, and that the aircraft was number five or six in the departure line. The deicing process resumed at 2:45 p.m. The deicing fluid consisted of 30-40 percent glycol and 60-70 percent water. No final overspray was applied. The outside air temperature ranged from 24 to 29 degrees Fahrenheit.

At 3:15 p.m., the deicing was completed, the jet closed up, and the jetway retracted to prepare for departure. The captain asked the station manager, who was standing near the main cabin door, how much snow was on the wings and was told there was a light dusting. It was snowing heavily at this time.

According to the NTSB report, it took several minutes and a combination of airport tugs and reverse thrust on the engines to get the aircraft away from the gate because the ground was slick with snow and ice. When Flight 90 pushed back, there were 16 other aircraft awaiting departure. 

At 3:38 p.m., the cockpit voice recorder captured the conversation between the pilot and copilot during the checklist challenge and response: The captain responded “OFF” when the copilot verbalized “anti-ice.” The engine anti-ice system prevents sensors in the engines from freezing which can result in incorrect power readings.

The first officer and captain repeatedly discussed the need for more deicing, both apparently looking at the wings and commenting on the snow buildup, and how trying to keep the aircraft deiced in the present conditions of a moderate to heavy snowfall was a losing battle.

At approximately 3:49 p.m., the pilots discussed an anomalous power reading on the left engine.

The aircraft was cleared for position and holds on Runway 36 at 3:57 p.m. One minute later, they were cleared for takeoff and advised no delay due to incoming traffic. The copilot was the pilot flying, and as the throttles were brought up, he asked the captain, “That doesn’t seem right, does it?”

They continued with the takeoff roll. The CVR captured their comments questioning the low power reading, the aircraft not climbing properly, and finally the copilot stating, “We’re going down.” The captain’s response: “I know it.”

The NTSB determined that the jet used approximately a half mile more runway than was normal for takeoff and never climbed above 350 feet.

The 737 collided with the bridge less than a mile from the departure end of Runway 36. As it was late afternoon, the bridge was heavily congested. The airplane struck six vehicles and tore up approximately 41 feet of bridge structure, including 97 feet of guard rail.

There were hundreds of witnesses to the accident on the ground. Several noted how low the aircraft was and how right before impact, the nose was pitched up 30 to 40 degrees. One witness claimed that sheets of ice fell off the wings of the airplane as it struck the bridge.

The aircraft hit the water and broke into several pieces. In many cases, the seat restraints failed resulting in fatal impact injuries. One passenger survived the impact, but later drowned after passing floatation devices to other survivors. Those who survived the impact noted that the water was so cold they quickly lost the use of their extremities making it difficult to don the life vests or hold on to the wreckage.

What the Report Said

The NTSB investigation identified several errors on the part of the flight crew related to flying in snow and ice:

• Although the outside temperature was well below freezing and it was snowing, the crew failed to activate the engine anti-ice system. Because of this, the engines were not producing the amount of power that was needed for safe takeoff.

• The pilot’s decision not to return to the gate for the reapplication of deicing fluid, although the airplane had waited in a taxi line for 49 minutes during a snowstorm before reaching the departure runway. During that time more ice and snow accumulated on the wings. The flight had already been significantly delayed and the pilot feared even further delay.

• While waiting in line for takeoff, the pilots maneuvered closely behind a DC-9, mistakenly believing that the heat from the DC-9’s engines would melt the snow and ice that had accumulated on Flight 90’s wings. The NTSB noted this action went specifically against flight-manual recommendations for an icing situation and contributed to the icing on the Air Florida jet, as the exhaust gases from the DC-9 turned the snow into a slush mixture that froze on the wings and the engine of the 737.

• Although the crew was aware of the ice and snow on the wings, they decided to take off anyway instead of returning to the ramp for more deicing.

In short, the probable cause of the accident was the flight crew’s decision to take off with ice and snow contamination on the wings and control surfaces, failure to use the engine anti-ice system, and the captain’s decision not to reject the takeoff when there were anomalous engine instrument readings.

Lessons Learned

Marcus’ blog noted that the number of icing related accidents has decreased dramatically over the years, thanks in part to the lessons learned from Air Florida and other events investigated by the NTSB between 1982 and 1997 where aircraft icing was a factor, killing some 265 people. Similar investigations were conducted by the Canadian Transportation Safety Board, specifically two accidents in 1985 and 1989 that killed a total of 280 passengers and crew.

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From the data acquired through these investigations, the agencies took a harder look at how the properties of deicing fluid determine its effectiveness, and how airport congestion and the time needed for air traffic control clearance and delays can affect the deicing process, notably how long a deiced aircraft can wait for takeoff before it must be deiced again.

The investigations into ice-related accidents also reviewed the importance of using the deicing engine instruments to get a correct reading on engine power; how the prolonged use of autopilot in icing conditions can mask developing problems with aircraft control until it is too late; and how the accumulation of ice on swept-wing aircraft can result in an uncontrollable pitch up tendency, resulting in a stall. 

It was noted that even small amounts of ice on an airplane wing, roughly that equivalent to medium weight sandpaper, can disrupt airflow and result in a significant loss of lift.

These findings contributed to a revision of FAA certification standards for airplanes approved to fly in icing conditions and an increased stall speed in icing conditions.

In addition, the accident involving Air Florida Flight 90 is used as a teaching tool in many ground schools. 

The post NTSB Marks 40th Anniversary of Flight 90 Accident appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

to coordinate the bank’s activities with the  factory and normally took the car, which made  for a round trip of approximately six hours. This  time—and considering the beautiful weather—I  decided to take the airplane instead.  With barely 150 hours in my logbook, I  felt that I should invite my former flying instructor, who had a total of approximately  20,000 hours, to accompany me to south Switzerland, which required a crossing of the Alps.

It was the most beautiful October day when we left relatively early in  the morning from our military air port in the alpine upland in a Cessna  FR172 Reims Rocket. The 172, how ever, was not IFR-equipped and  didn’t have an autopilot.  

The flight down was uneventful and beautiful. There was no wind, and my gorgeous country lay at my disposal as far as the eye could see. 

I had a busy and successful day and met with my instructor at around  4 p.m. at Lugano Airport. Working all day and meeting after meeting did not give me time to think about the return flight—or prepare with any flight planning at all.  

Because the weather was so beautiful on both sides of the Alps when we left, I do not remember if we even checked the weather. 

On the way back, the flight north was great—quiet and nothing to worry about until we approached the valley where our home airport was situated. The valley runs almost straight from south to north and, on both sides, is surrounded by a couple of mountains, all at a height of  around 10,000 feet.  

A solid cloud layer of fog was  creeping up the edges of the valley,  and when we reached the vicinity of  the field, it was completely covered. We kept going on and discussed  what we could do. I definitely had  “get-home-itis” and did not want to go back south and take a train home, which meant missing dinner and missing the boys before they went to bed.

So I sheepishly suggested that— because the layer might not be thick—we could enter the cloud in the middle of the valley, follow its course, and “fall out” underneath the cloud layer after only a very brief descent. Much to my surprise, my former instructor consented. We agreed that, entering the top at around 8,000 feet, we would execute a climb and return to the top at no lower than 6,000 feet if we didn’t have ground contact. I reduced power and slowly but cautiously approached the layer.  The moment we entered it, the whole world changed—from bright sunshine to near darkness; from a normal-sounding engine to a muffled, distant-feeling motor; from a happy, cheerful cockpit to a quiet and  worryingly narrow environment. The valley ran a course of approximately 010 degrees—nearly due north.  So, I followed it precisely and let down with a descent rate of about 500 fpm. Upon reaching 6,000 feet, we were still solidly in the soup. 

Instead of opening full throttle and resuming a climb, I kept descending, hoping my former teacher would not realize that I was reneging on our agreement to stop at that altitude. 

At 5,000 feet, we were still in it. Suddenly, I realized that we could have encountered crosswinds in the valley, and though I kept diligently to  the heading, we could drift sideways and be pushed completely off course. 

The next thought that crossed my mind was to imagine how it would feel if we were to hit a mountain at a speed of about 100 mph. Realizing this could actually happen any second, I advanced the throttle, pulled up carefully and ascended on that same course, making sure not to pull too hard on the controls and watching my airspeed cautiously.  

The next minutes were deadly quiet in the cockpit—and for certain the longest of my life. The urge to pull back a little harder in order to expedite the climb had to be fought against and required all my self-discipline.  A lot of thoughts—both important and minor—crossed my mind. Am I going to see my family again? How is the insurance coverage in such a case? How do I get from the airport to the train station in Lugano? When would I get the airplane back to the  home airport? 

As we cleared the cloud tops again at 8,000 feet, we were exactly where we were supposed to be, and the sun was still the same one and as bright as before. We turned back south, landed at the airport from which we had departed  approximately 40 minutes prior, and took the train back.  

It was the first time in my life that I enjoyed a train ride more than a flight. I have read ILAFFT since the early 1970s and learned something from most of the stories.  

I do hope that no serious pilot learns from this article. I would hope that there are no aviators who would try the same as I did with youthful recklessness and without the gadgets available today, such as GPS and the associated instrument approach procedures. The question remains, though, whether today, with all these marvelous toys, the story would have ended differently. Maybe the temptation to risk such an adventure is even greater now, but then there are other  challenges, such as vertigo, somato gravic illusion, stalls, icing and even  military IFR traffic (because we did  not monitor any such frequency).  

So, the answer is to not even think about doing what I did.

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