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LNH to LNA in an LSA           

            It was an interesting opportunity. I could fly from Palm Beach to Lancaster Pennsylvania in a late model Pilatus PC-12 and then ferry a Light Sport Aircraft back to Florida. Best of all, it was for a good cause. The local high school had developed an aerospace program in conjunction with Embry Riddle and someone had donated this LSA to them. All they needed to do was go pick it up. I got the call.

            I will be honest, I have virtually no experience with LSA’s. I have been to the LSA show in Sebring every year since it began, but I have yet to see an aircraft that truly excited me. I was hoping to get a chance to fly the Cessna Sky Catcher this year. Piper has just announced it would be branding the Sport Cruiser, a Czech built LSA as their LSA offering. Then I got this call. I figured by the time I got back from Pennsylvania, I’d know everything I wanted to know about the world of LSA’s.

            So off I went. Wheels up on the massive PC-12 and a climb to 23,000 feet took less than 18 minutes. I hand flew the plane through 18,000 feet before reluctantly punching on the autopilot. The PC-12 is a wonderful airplane to hand fly on instruments and I wanted to enjoy every minute. If you think the Swiss know how to build a watch, you should see what they do with an airplane.

            We honked along at just under 300 knots burning 50 gph of Jet –A, at cruise. The XM radio was playing softly through the headsets, as we sipped coffee and ate peanuts. It doesn’t get any better than this. The PC-12 is specifically designed to be flown single pilot and the level of automation makes it easy. Three and a half hours later it was over. Weather wasn’t a factor in the flight at all. The winter winds worked with us instead of against us and about the only concession we had to make was Flight Level 230 vs. Flight Level 280 and that was because of turbulence. This is single engine turbine transportation at its finest.

            I climbed down the air stair door of the PC-12 onto the ramp at the Lancaster Pa. airport and walked over to the little LSA. Clearly this would be the smallest aircraft I had ever flown. Even though the wing span was longer than the little Grumman AA1C I had learned in, it has a gross weight that is 300 lbs lower. Further, I am 30 lbs heaver then I was when I earned my private pilot certificate, more than half my life ago.  

            The Evektor Sport Star looks a lot like the Sport Cruiser that Piper is adopting. They are both built in Czech Republic so I am not surprised. Low wing, bubble canopy, all metal and both powered by a Rotax 912, 100 h.p. engine.

            The people at Adventure Flight, the operation that had the LSA I was to pick up were very forthcoming about flying the little plane all the way to Florida. They have several of them on the line and teach in them every day. They answered all of my questions and even sent their Chief Pilot out to “check me out” in the airplane.

            The first thing I noticed when reading the flight manual was the sensitivity to weight. With full fuel, 31.5 gallons, I could only carry 222 lbs of pilot and passengers. I opted to wait to fuel the airplane until after the check out.

            It took me longer to figure out the Rotax engine then the airplane. I had never flown an airplane that had one before. It started easily and idled smoothly. The fact that it is water cooled requires you to wait a while for it to warm up before you do your run up. The run up is conventional, testing the ignitions, and carburetor heat just like you would in a Lycoming or Continental engine. What is different is the fact that the engine is running at approximately twice the prop speed. We did the run up at 4,000 rpm. I was not impressed with the brakes at all. My instructor told me that this is a common problem with this design and that they were retrofitting their entire fleet with Matco brakes to correct the problem.

            This aircraft uses electric pitch trim. There is no manual system installed. In fact, everything on the plane is electric. The turn coordinator, artificial horizon and directional gyro are all electric. The aircraft features an auxiliary alternator to make sure there is enough juice to run everything. There is no amp or volt meter on the airplane, but the alternators have warning lights if they fail.

            Taxiing onto runway 31 at Lancaster I advanced the throttle and rotated at 45 knots as I was instructed. The control pressures struck me immediately as very light. It felt more like a Pitts Special then a training aircraft. The little LSA climbed well in the cold winter air, even with two of us on board. The aircraft takes off with 15 degrees of flaps. This particular aircraft featured the electric flaps vs. the stock (manual) Johnson bar. (Yet another electric accessory). 4000 rpm in level flight gives you flap speed, and deploying 15 degrees of flaps in level flight yielded 65 knots. I flew the first landing to touchdown with 15 degrees of flaps. The wind was pretty much right down the runway and we touched down and took off again in less than 1,000 feet. The wind is a big concern. In the flight manual it indicates a crosswind limit of just 12 mph, or 10 knots. That’s not much. The second landing happened with 30 degrees of flaps. Over the fence at 55 indicated felt better than the first landing. I was told not to use the full 50 degrees of flaps. I didn’t get a good answer as to why but I figured someone else already explored that issue so I stuck with what I knew. The third landing was a full stop. That was it. I was “checked out”.

            I had the tanks topped to their full 31.5 gallon capacity and loaded my flight and overnight bag into the compartment directly behind the seats. There was nothing left to do but go, so I taxied out on my first leg to Suffolk Executive, just south of Norfolk Va. I figured it would take three hours at the 85 knot normal cruise speed.

            Immediately I discovered that the compass was off by as much as 30 degrees on certain headings and the D.G. precessed continuously. Fortunately the plane had a Garmin 430 in it and I was smart enough to bring a current data card. Give me a Garmin 430 and I can take you anywhere. It had been a long time since I did a strictly VFR cross country of this magnitude. The aircraft is not IFR certified so you can’t even file.  Around the massive D.C.ADIZ, over the Chesapeake Bay and into Suffolk Executive took three hours exactly. I was able to fly at 3,500 feet and then 4,500 feet crossing the water. By the time I got to Suffolk, I had figured out the airplane.

            Unfortunately you can’t trim the thing to be totally hands off. You can get close with the electric trim then you must fine tune it with the throttle. But the control pressures are so light that you can cup the stick in your hand and use fingertip pressure to stay on heading and altitude. The electric trim switches are on the top of the stick and it is all too easy to accidentally push one or the other causing the aircraft to jerk in the direction of the trim.

            Cabin temperature changed dramatically with the suns exposure because of the large bubble canopy. There is cabin heat and it worked well enough. But when ever the sun came out from behind a cloud I’d have to open a vent window or I would begin to cook. The little vent windows increase cabin noise significantly.

            Suffolk Executive features self serve auto gas. I did not know that when I selected it as my stopping point but since the aircraft is approved to run on Mogas and I had been informed that it actually liked auto fuel, I took the opportunity to fill the tanks. 11.7 gallons is all it took, no kidding. That translated to 3.9 gallons per hour at the 4800 rpm factory recommended cruise power setting. Well I thought, if it’s all about economy, that is hard to beat.

            My next stop was Myrtle Beach. I use MYR because if you have to get stuck somewhere, it’s good to get stuck where there is an abundance of nice hotel rooms and good restaurants. Two hours and forty five minutes later I was on the ground at Myrtle Beach. I was beat and my butt was sore. The seats in the plane were not designed for 6 hours of continuous use. It had been a long day, and it was getting dark. I did not trust the plane well enough to fly it the remaining 400 nm. in the dark although it is approved for night VFR flight. I called it a day.

            Mother Nature put on a winter show the next day and I was stuck. I had plenty of time to reflect on the flight. Obviously, this airplane was not designed to fly half way across the country. No, it was designed to be an economical fair weather flyer, a lower cost alternative to a certified aircraft. At more than $100,000 a copy, you cannot call it cheap, and is limited in its ability to carry. You can carry fuel or passengers but not both at the same time. That’s not such a big deal since the fuel burn is so minimal there is no need to tanker a lot of fuel.  It is not comfortable for pilots taller than 6’1” or more than about 210 lbs, I don’t care what the brochure says. The construction is what I would call “delicate” especially the canopy components. I do not see how these aircraft will stand up to the rigors of flight school use. In 22 years as an instructor and a mechanic I have seen all kinds of abuse by students on training aircraft. To me, that question speaks directly to economic viability.

            The flight manual is not what most pilots are used to but it pretty informative. Because these aircraft are not certified aircraft, maintenance procedures and log entries are different from certified aircraft.

            The Rotax engine did not give me a lick of trouble. It started easily, ran smoothly and never gave me cause to question it. I understand that this engine comes in a certified version and an uncertified version. The aircraft I flew had the uncertified version in it. I am not clear on the differences, but I think it is fair to say that more pilots would accept the Rotax as a “real” aircraft engine if the certified version was installed. According to the flight manual it runs happily on 100 LL or premium auto fuel though additional oil changes are required for use on straight 100 LL. I know that Cessna did extensive market research on the Rotax engine while developing the Sky Catcher and they opted to go with the Continental O-200D even thought it cost more. What that tells me is the Rotax has a ways to go before it gains the acceptance of the mainstream aviation community.

            I had to wait a week before the weather allowed me to finish the trip. Winter winds reduced my ground speed to less than 50 knots and the leg home from Myrtle Beach took nearly 7 hours.

            So, what did I think of the LSA experience? To be honest, it was fun to fly, but not very practical. In my opinion, it was more suited for an experience pilot then for a novice. I’m not sure how these aircraft will stand up to flight school duty. In my opinion the Rotax engine is going to be an issue for acceptance from the existing pilot pool, while newcomers to aviation probably won’t care. The LSA movement is in its infancy. I believe that when Piper, Cessna and Cirrus get behind it, it may gain momentum.

            It was fun to compare the same trip (in opposite directions), from opposite ends of the single engine aircraft spectrum. I'm not ready to pass judgement on the LSA for flight training thing just yet. I'd love to hear from anyone with any experience on the subject.

 

Aviations Dirty Little Secret-
By Michael Leighton

Last week, I watched as an RV-6, one of the most popular homebuilts ever designed, crashed on takeoff from my home field. The engine quit at an estimated altitude of just over 200 feet AGL, and the aircraft spun into the lake at the end of the runway. The pilot, a well liked and experience aviator, did not survive. That was the second fatal accident and the third serious accident of an experimential aircraft based at my little airport since the beginning of the year.
The dirty little seceret of general aviation is that experimental aircraft have a disporportionately higer fatal accident rate then the rest of the G.A. fleet. Further, they display a disproportiionately higher percentage of accidents attirbuted to mechnical failure, 28% , with more than 9% attributed to "unknown" causes. These are not my numbers, they are published by the EAA. AOPA publishes the NALL report, another telling document that echos these findings. NTSB's accident file database carries detailed accounts of many of these accidents.
The insurance companies are keenly aware of this. The F.A.A. has recently announced a study due to concern about handling characterisitics of homebuilt aircraft ( read experimental aircraft).  What no one has asked, or answered is why?
Are the handling qualities really the issue? Or is it the nature of the homebuilt aircraft? More emphysis on construction, less on flight?
While I have flown many types of homebuilts, and even owned one, I am not in that world. I want to hear from those who are.
Is this a flight training issue or an aircraft design issue?

Flaps, one notch. Mixture, rich. Sky, clear. Throttle, full. Brakes, released. The plane clings to the ground for an instant, Newton and one of his pesky laws stunts your movement, but soon, another law trumps inertia and you inch forward, creeping at first, then picking up speed, faster and faster, the landscape a green blur down both sides of the peripheral vision. Feet work the rudder pedals, a slight sway from left to right then back again. The stick vibrates your palm as a narrow, white needle springs to life on the airspeed indicator, its silent warning screaming that 30 more knots are critical before you can even think of lifting off. Meanwhile you’ve eaten up half the runway, the trees at the opposite end, the ones that appeared so gentle and kind and docile before, now furious, their faces gnarled in determination as they yank themselves from the ground, shake the red clay from their twisted roots and begin to charge toward you. Against your instinct, you hold steady, fighting the urge to jerk the stick back before it’s time, knowing if you do, the plane will become a mangled mess because you lacked airspeed, that vital element of lift and flight.

The needle creeps, moving through mud, caught in a slow motion time warp as it arcs from 40 to 45. The magic number is 60. The trees blitz within their own time anomaly, but unlike the sluggish airspeed gauge, someone has pressed fast-forward on a true universal remote and the wooden creatures sprint faster toward you. 50…55… They close in, their crooked limbs stretching your way. 58… Too late to abort, not enough runway left to stop. 59… If only you had 30 more feet of runway…but wait…the plane rises, the wings on both sides physically lift, curving upward like a drawn bow pointed toward the ground. The trees strain skyward in final attempts to snag you in their tangled branches, but you sail over them by scant feet. You glance down, realizing now they outnumbered you. The front line hid an army of trees behind them, a whole nation of their wooden brethren, but now the menacing green creatures appear docile again, mere shrubs from your new vantage point.

For almost an hour, you soar over the countryside, scan the sky for oncoming aircraft, monitor the gauges, peek at your winged shadow as it glides across the ground, expanding when it darts up the side of a building and races across the roof before plunging down the other side where it shrinks once more. The setting sun draws your eyes as it brushes against the far clouds on the horizon, singeing their scalloped edges golden before morphing purple and red as the sphere sinks behind them.

It’s time to land. You point the airplane toward the faint lights of your home field, one of the shortest airstrips in your state, and you scan your gauges, paying special attention to the airspeed indicator once again to ensure you carry enough speed right up to the runway threshold, but not too much, lest you land long and ram the same trees you outwitted during takeoff.

Gentle touchdown in the grass field, an emerald sea sloshing against your wheels as you slow. A burst of power propels you to your tie-down where you throttle back, cut your avionics and lean your fuel mixture full back until the engine stutters and the blurred propeller slows until it’s visible once more.

You stretch three braided ropes, heave them taut to anchor your winged mare to earth until you return another day to do it again. Walking away, you wonder if you need ropes yourself, perhaps with sandbags tethered to their frayed ends for ballast because you float across the field instead of walk, the soft grass swaying beneath your feet in the tender night breeze because your mind is light, your body energized, and both are pulsing with life.

For a long time I thought I knew the reason I felt so alive, so energized after my initial fight training and beyond, but I was wrong. At first, when walking away from my plane after a flight, I mistook the intense energy that clung to my being as elation. And why not? I had finally pursued my dream, a long suppressed desire to fly.

I’m sure elation was embedded somewhere in the emotions I felt, but over time the true reason dawned. For that hour, from the moment I entered the aircraft until it was tied down, I thought of nothing other than piloting the plane. I didn’t conjure the past, futile attempts to relive and regret. I didn’t march through my monumental to-do list in my head. I forgot about bills. I forgot to fret over the future. In other words, I lived in the moment.

If I accomplished my goal in writing the beginning of this piece, you were living in the moment as well, forgetting the annoyances and distractions of life that vie for your attention. Yes, the piece may have taken your brain elsewhere, the reason so many of us like to read novels, but it’s still a “present” you experience real time, even though you may be in a fictional world.

After this realization, I searched for other activities that anchored me in the present. Good novels jumped near the top of the list. Exercise scored high as well. Just as reading locked me in the present, so did writing, an activity I started to immerse myself in with increased frequency. Nature was a biggie. Some claim a 20 minute walk once a day in nature does more for your well-being than any pharmaceutical wonder drug could ever accomplish. I agree with every fiber of my being. No matter what mood I’m in, a short walk outside will cure what ails me. It’s hard to stay down when you glide under green tree canopies while the sky pushes blue at you between the spaces in the leaves.

Want to know something else that tugs me into the present moment and never fails to spread a smile across my face? The sight of a dog’s head thrust out a car window, its eyebrows arched in sheer enthusiasm, tongue trailing in the wind. I guarantee all dogs live in the present. We could learn a lesson or two from them. Next time you're driving a car, ease down your window, erasing that curved glass between the you and the world. Feel the cold, or the heat. Shoot your arm out, palm down, and let your “wing” slice the air. Encourage your passenger to do the same. Who knows what will happen? Perhaps if you’re driving fast enough, you both may sail over that far horizon into the great wide now.

To read more posts please visit www.lessonsfromthecockpit.com

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What is your favorite Aviation Destination and Why?

We want to know the place that is always top of mind, when the words, beautiful, gorgeous, and breathtaking are uttered. It’s the place you fly to every year, with great anticipation. It’s the place you don’t want to leave once you’re there, that offers a view from the controls that continually answers the question we are all asked at least once; “Why do you fly?”

 

 It’s a place that screams beauty from any angle you look at it, but is extraordinarily amplified to those lucky enough to see it with a birds eye view…

 

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Richard’s story emerged over lunch at a local restaurant. I don’t even know how it came up in the conversation.

Years ago, he and his stepfather had gone on a four-day hike in the desert, looking for lost treasure. They’d followed old mining roads and pack trails high up into the Weaver Mountains, following vague directions given to them by an old miner who had recently gone to that great mother lode in the sky. As days wore on, they found one landmark after another. On the third morning, they were searching for their last landmark, some cabins deep in a thickly treed canyon. Although they couldn’t see any sign of the cabins from a ridge overlooking miles of high desert terrain, later that day they stumbled upon them while following a spring-fed creek. By then, they were out of time and had to start on their way back home. They never went back.

Richard’s tale of a four-day hike in the desert, living off the land and finding old buildings hidden away in canyons, fascinated me. I’d done my share of exploring when I was in my teens and had some interesting tales to tell. But none could come close to his. I wanted to know more, to see the cabins with my own eyes. Perhaps I thought it was a way to recapture part of my youth, when the simple pleasure of discovery was all the reward I needed after a long hike on a hot day.

But although Richard wanted very much to find the site again, a work-related injury made a long hike or horseback ride impossible. And Richard was certain that there were no roads anywhere near the canyon, so a Jeep wouldn’t get us there. Besides, with thousands of acres of mountainous terrain and numerous canyons with spring-fed creeks, locating the site would be like finding a cactus spine in a patch of tumbleweed. After all, Richard’s initial visit had been long before the era of GPS and he wasn’t sure where the site was.

I can’t recall if it were Richard or me who suggested the helicopter as a means to find his hidden cabins. If Richard suggested it, I’d probably been thinking about it quietly already, so his suggestion seemed perfectly natural. If I suggested it, I don’t recall him being surprised, so he must have been thinking about it, too.

Back then, in September 2002, I owned a 1999 Robinson R22 Beta II I affectionately called simply "Three-Niner-Lima." I’d owned it since October 2000 and had done most of my flying at its controls. I learned to fly late in life, earning my private pilot helicopter rating shortly before my 39th birthday and my commercial rating a year and a half later. Three-Niner-Lima sat two, including the pilot. Although it didn’t have much power — a fact that became apparent at higher elevations, especially on warm days — it was fun and relatively inexpensive to fly.

Richard, his wife, and I met again over breakfast the next day. I brought along some topographic maps. Richard pointed out where he and his stepfather had parked the car for their hike and where he thought they’d hiked. He pointed out a few canyons with springs that could be the canyon they’d visited. I saw a number of 4WD roads and pack trails on the map and pointed them out. Richard repeated with certainty that there were no roads leading into the canyon.

There was a lot of mountainous terrain to cover. When flying helicopters, mountains mean three things: high elevation, which limits available power; unusual winds, which can make landing difficult or hazardous; and uneven terrain, which makes it hard to find an emergency landing area in the unlikely event of an engine failure. With all this in mind, I suggested that we begin our search early in the morning, before the temperature rises and the winds kick up. We agreed to meet at 6:00 AM.

One thing led to another and I was unable to keep our appointment. So we put it off a few days. Thus, it was by chance that we made our flight thirty years to the day of Richard’s original hike — a fact Richard didn’t realize until much later.

The morning of our flight was clear, cool, and calm. We took off from Wickenburg, heading north, just after sunrise. Although Three-Niner-Lima was equipped with a panel-mounted GPS, I brought along my hand-held Garmin, which has mapping capabilities, and set it up to log our route. Later, I was able to overlay the route on some topographic maps, which gave us an interesting view of our flight.

We climbed over the Weaver Mountains in the early morning light. It was slightly hazy that September morning, as if the desert were trying to send its moisture up to the sky to start monsoonal rains as early as possible. But because the summer had been so dry, the desert was a parched beige color, with dusty green patches of vegetation. Up in the Weavers, however, it was obvious where springs flowed. Dozens of canyons were green with tall cottonwoods and other water-loving trees of the desert. It was under one of those canopies of trees that we’d find the hidden cabins.

We flew a relatively standard search-and-rescue pattern, weaving back and forth over one canyon after another. For safety’s sake, I needed to remain at least 500 feet up. Since we were operating in an area of rapidly changing elevations, I kept my eyes outside the cockpit, concentrating on keeping us clear of terrain. I did my best to place the best view on the left side of the cockpit, where Richard sat, scanning the ground.

After about 40 minutes of searching, we were getting discouraged. I felt bad for Richard, who had come prepared with hiking shoes, water pack, and camera, ready to relive a thirty-year-old experience. He clearly expected us to land somewhere and it had gotten to the point where he didn’t really care where. We talked about finding a landing zone near one of the more densely vegetated canyons and I saw a spot that might work. After doing a high reconnaissance, I told him I’d try an approach, but warned that if the site didn’t look smooth or level, I’d have to break it off.

I went in cautiously, my eyes on the proposed landing zone, an arm of the mountain that seemed flat and clear. I was about 100 feet from the ground when Richard called out suddenly, “There it is!” I tore my eyes from the landing zone for a quick look and saw the weathered roof of a cabin among the trees. A moment later, I touched down on level ground on a high point near the canyon, surrounded by prickly pear cacti, agaves, and scrubby creosote bushes.

Richard and I were both excited as I cooled off the engine and shut down. I marked my helicopter’s location as a waypoint on my handheld GPS and followed Richard toward the canyon. There were some cattle trails that wound back and forth along the slope and headed into the trees. One thing I’d learned about free range cattle is that they always know where the water is. Following their trail would lead us to the creek.

Three-Niner-Lima in the landing zone, only 1/10 mile from the cabins.

We began to see signs of long-gone occupation as soon as we got into the shade of the tall trees that filled the canyon. First a thick pipe, broken here and there, which must have carried water from the spring-fed creek. Then an almost intact wagon wheel lying among the broken remains of a cart, some old tools, and saw blades. We continued down toward the creek, our feet crunching over years of fallen leaves. We walked around a thick bed of what looked like irises and then came face to face with the first cabin.

A wagon wheel and some tools were the first signs of civilization we encountered under the canopy of trees.

I don’t know who built the cabin or how long it had been standing beneath those trees, but I know it’s old — perhaps a hundred years or more. Its sides were made of crudely shaped wooden planks, which had colored with age to warm browns and dark grays. The roof was corrugated tin sheets, laid almost haphazardly to provide the best coverage. A stove pipe came though a hole in the roof and another pipe led from the ground into the wall. Two windows faced out over the stream, which gurgled softly nearby.

Richard approaches the main cabin.

A small porch and open doorway faced us and we wasted no time stepping up for a peek inside. There were two rooms, a kitchen and a bedroom. Inside the kitchen, we found the remains of a wood-burning stove and a sink with a countertop. A firewood bin had been built into the wall between them. In the bedroom, a bed frame stood neatly against the window. Although the floor looked to be in remarkably good condition, especially in the bedroom, Richard and I thought it best to stay outside, where we were less likely to damage the fragile remains.

Beyond the main cabin stood a second, smaller cabin, which had probably been used for storage. That cabin was surrounded with a dense growth of vines. Had I been properly dressed in heavy jeans and hiking shoes, I would have made my way through the growth for a closer look. But my lightweight slacks had already been torn on the 1/10 mile hike from the helicopter to the cabins and my Keds did little to protect my otherwise bare feet.

The other cabin.

Despite our find, Richard was still disappointed. He told me that the cabins he and his stepfather had found had apple trees growing in front of them. There was no sign of the trees that day — just the thick vines that covered the ground with a narrow cattle trail running through them. Although I pointed out that the trees could have died and rotted away during the past thirty years, he wasn’t convinced. He was sure we had the wrong cabins, although he thought we might be close. So we set off on a short hike down and then up the creek. Other than the cabins and some old fencing, there was no other sign of occupation.

After an hour exploring the area, it was warming up. Three-Niner-Lima sat at 5,000 feet — an elevation that would have an impact on its performance, especially on a hot day. Thermal updrafts and winds would be starting up soon, too. I was anxious to head out before performance and turbulence became an issue. As Richard and I climbed up out of the canyon and made our way back to Three-Niner-Lima, we talked about returning another day, with a better camera and the proper footwear for me. I marked the landing zone with a row of white rocks and walked around my ship to make sure stray cattle hadn’t damaged it while we were out of sight. Moments later, we were airborne, heading out over the canyon to start a spiraling climb over the mountain peaks between us and Wickenburg.

Richard, who is retired, spent the next few weeks trying to dig up some information about the cabins. He found an old man who knew about them and told him that there had indeed been apple trees. But some city slickers out camping in the wilderness had decided to cut them down for firewood. That had been years ago and no trace of the trees remained.

No trace of the people who lived there remain either. Or of visitors like us, who come to look but take pictures instead of souvenirs. Although the coordinates of the hidden cabins are safely stored in my GPS, they’ll remain hidden, too. Too many places have been destroyed by heartless vandals who take pleasure in rubbing out the traces of our state’s history. I’d rather let nature reclaim the site at its own pace than share the secret location of the hidden cabins of the Weaver Mountains.

Would like to employ everyone to write about the problems or things that they would like to see happen in the Part 135 Air Charter Industry. 

Currently what I try to do is to give information and advice for people who are interested in the purchase of their own Part 135 company.

Check out my website: http://www.SellPart135.com

Or please feel free to talk about anything that is on your mind.


THANK YOU!

 

Water 2800 ft x 100    Now what more can you ask for. 

we have owned our 63 x 60 ft hangar two years and now we enjoy our new home sitting right on the main runway with a magnificent view of Hatcher Pass mountains.  A great room concept for lots of pilot get togethers ….just the right size to welcome a steady stream of visitors.

This airpark is located in one of the fastest growing areas of Alaska.  Properties are of varied shapes and sizes ranging in value from $150,000 to over $800,000….From beautiful customs to wonderful home/hangar combos perfect for those who want lots of time to fly and play… they don’t call this the last frontier for nothing…..just moments away from true wilderness experiences….Prince William Sound to Mt McKinley for your pleasure….fishing, hunting, and sightseeing indescribable ….come see it for yourself….





Late September,  there is new white stuff on the mountain tops, it’s called “termination dust”….it’s time to terminate our Alaska stay and head off for another “high adventure”  Button up the house, load the hangar with friends airplanes for the winter, load the red and white 185 with survival gear, wing and cowl covers, a few snacks, put the dog in the back 



                                                                                                                                 and head south.  22 hours flight time, normally 3 days and two nights enroute over some of the most magnificent country you can possibly imagine.  Snow covered mountain tops, mammoth glaciers, winding rivers, endless forests.  Catch a glimpse of mountain sheep, moose, caribou, bear, and even an occasional other aircraft traveling south.

 

The desert looks pretty good about the third day….time to stretch and examine our Arizona home after the summers absence.  Perfect temperature in the 80’s…clear blue skies….they call us Snow Birds or Summer Chickens……finding the best of both worlds, avoiding the snow of winter and the heat of summer…..Eagle Roost Airpark ….25 miles west of Wickenburg.  Eagle Roost 27AZ  Aguila, Arizona, privately owned, runway 17/35 asphalt /3600x50  lights/  elevation 2200 ft all taxiways paved, Minimum parcel size 4 acres properties ranging is value from $125,000 to $1,350,000.  The home we enjoy here is Santa Fe architecture with wonderful verandas for this near perfect weather located on five acres, the 75x55  hangar is Gordon’s delight ….with lots of projects, a gun room, a guest room, private office and full bath…you can find a pilot session out there most days…. It’s a great life to be able to walk from your home to your hangar with a cup of coffee and it’s still hot when you get there…

 

How do we keep busy…..Gordon is a retired TWA captain, finally with time to play with his projects, rebuilding a 1957 Cessna 182, reloading shotgun shells for the fun quail and dove hunting  with in two miles of our house.  Rebuilding a few cars and keeping up with the “rolling stock”  there aren’t enough hours in the day…not to mention the hangar sessions with other airpark residents….  Cooper the dog demands a bit of that time too…

Don’t try to escape in the jeep without him….he loves the bird hunting and has the entire five acres with underground fence so he is a free spirit day in and day out….

 

Marti, a retired State Farm agent, with energy to spare and the love of client contact so why not reactivate a real estate license and specialize in Aviation Property….never expecting to have so much fun…and so much activity….as an airpark resident and an active pilot, what could be more natural…call about a property and the first question you will be asked is “what kind of airplane do you fly”….what a great way to meet fantastic people….

 

Two wonderful ways of life and many of our neighbors in Arizona are our neighbors in Alaska….also enjoying the AAA experience…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the early nineties I flew for a commuter airline called Great Lakes. Most of my flying was to destinations with no control tower. To name a few, we flew into MTO, DNV,OTM,SPW,FOD,MCW, CIU,IMT,BRL,UIN…the list goes on. While operating at these types of airports is taught in the most basic of aviation courses, they can pose a threat to even the most experienced pilots. Communications and proper procedure at uncontrolled fields is critical to operational safety. This month’s article will offer a basic review of uncontrolled field communications. For a review of uncontrolled field operational procedures, a list of resources is provided at the conclusion.

   

I can remember the day like it was yesterday. At the time I was a regional manager and Captain on a Beech 1900 for Great Lakes Airlines. It was early evening when I received a call from our chief pilot that there had been an accident. One of our 1900s had collided with a King Air at the intersection of runway 4/22 and 13/31 at Quincy Illinois, an uncontrolled field. The Quincy pilot base was one of six bases that were under my jurisdiction so I was immediately on my way to the scene.

 

The following are inserts from the NTSB summary:

“On November 19, 1996, at 1701 central standard time, United Express flight 5925, a Beechcraft 1900C, N87GL, collided with a Beechcraft King Air A90, N1127D, at Quincy Municipal Airport, near Quincy, Illinois. Flight 5925 was completing its landing roll on runway 13, and the King Air was in its takeoff roll on runway 04. The collision occurred at the intersection of the two runways…The probable cause of this accident was the failure of the pilots in the King Air A90 to effectively monitor the common traffic advisory frequency or to properly scan for traffic, resulting in their commencing a takeoff roll when the Beech 1900C (United Express flight 5925) was landing on an intersecting runway…Although he had been sitting on runway four for about one minute, the King Air pilot began the takeoff without making a takeoff announcement over the CTAF… Contributing to the cause of the accident was a Cherokee pilot’s interrupted radio transmission, which led to the Beech 1900C pilots’ misunderstanding of the transmission as an indication from the King Air that it would not take off until after flight 5925 had cleared the runway.”

   

For the entire NTSB report, go to: www.ntsb.gov/Publictn/1997/AAR9704.pdf

   

From the above accident report we can learn how proper communication is a must while operating in an uncontrolled field environment. The following is a compilation of both FAA recommendations and techniques drawn from professionals throughout the industry. It is important to note that there may be some operating without a radio or simply not adhering to proper procedures. You must remain constantly vigilant and avoid complacency even during the most benign conditions.

 

Approaching the uncontrolled field:

‣ When approaching an uncontrolled field, if possible, monitor the common traffic advisory frequency ten miles prior to the airport. You can locate this frequency in the Airport Facilities Directory, sectionals, and instrument approach charts just to name a few.

‣ Ten miles prior to the uncontrolled field report aircraft type, aircraft identification, location relative to the airport, state your intensions, and obtain an airport advisory (if applicable).

‣ If overflying the top of the airport, report over the top and your planned intentions. “Matoon traffic, King Air 13FC over the top, will be entering a right midfield downwind for one-one Matoon.” Remember that in the pattern most aircraft will be at 1000’AGL. Plan to overfly the airport at least 500’ above pattern altitude. Most turbine aircraft will be flying a pattern of at least 1500’agl so plan accordingly.

‣ Report turning downwind, base, final, and leaving the runway.

‣ Report the turn to final for a particular runway and then report again when on a short final (1/4 mile or so) for your landing runway. “Matoon traffic, King Air 13FC ¼ mile final for runway two-nine Matoon.”

Departing the uncontrolled field:

‣ When departing an uncontrolled field, monitor and communicate on the traffic advisory frequency from prior to taxi to ten miles from the airport (unless you need to switch frequencies to speak with ATC).

‣ Report taxiing to a particular runway.

‣ Report crossing a runway.

‣ Report departing a runway.

‣ With your departure call remember to state your intentions. “Matoon traffic, King Air 13FC departing runway two-nine, to the northwest, Matoon.” Or “remaining in the pattern, Matoon.”

 

Points to consider:

Remember to use the airport name at the beginning and end of each transmission: This is extremely important for two reasons. Airports within radio range may share the same frequency or another aircraft may have just tuned in midway through your transmission.

 

In your communications include the direction of traffic that you will be entering: “Matoon traffic, King Air 13FC entering right midfield downwind for runway 11, full stop, Matoon.” Although right traffic is the published direction, this simply adds clarity for others in the area.

 

Instrument approach to an uncontrolled field: It is important to remember that not all pilots have an instrument rating. Simply reporting the “outer marker” or “procedure turn inbound on the ILS 29,” may mean nothing to the VFR only pilot. While flying an instrument approach, your traffic advisory should include position relative to the field.

 

Preflight Preparation: We have all heard about the 7 Ps. Proper prior planning preventing a certain type of poor performance. A check of the notams and Airport Facilities Directory are

a valuable stop in your preflight preparation. The AFD is a wonderful resource that, in the FAA’s own words, “includes data that cannot be readily depicted in graphic form: e.g., airport hours of operation, types of fuel available, runway data, lighting codes, etc.” With a check of the AFD you can obtain runway specific traffic pattern information, CTAF/Unicom frequencies, approach and center frequencies, weather data sources, airport remarks, and much more.

 

Be especially vigilant during calm wind conditions: Another pilot may have chosen another runway.

 

If executing a straight in approach: It must be executed so as not to disrupt the flow of arriving and departing traffic. Pilots in the pattern should be alert at all times to aircraft executing a straight in approach.

 

FAR 91.113: “Aircraft while on final approach to land or while landing, have the right-of-way over other aircraft in flight or operating on the surface…”

 

By following the FAA’s recommended procedures for uncontrolled field operations, we can significantly reduce the potential hazards. The problem exists when a small minority blatantly disregards those procedures thus raising the threat level for all of those involved. If your operation takes you to an uncontrolled field and it has been awhile, further operational and communication review can be found at:

- Advisory Circular 90-42F

- Advisory Circular 90-66A

- Aeronautical Information Manual: Chapter 4 sections 1 and 3

- Airport Facilities Directory

- FAR 91.113: Right of way rules

- FAR 91.126 (b): Direction of turns

- FAR 91.127 (b): Comply with established traffic pattern

By Jeff Miller

Have you ever heard of a Beech AT-10 a/k/a a Beech Model 26?

 From what I can find, these ships apparently were  designed as an advanced, multi-engine trainer that could be easily manufactured on a large scale.  To conserve scarce metals needed for combat aircraft, Beech built the airframe out of plywood with only the engine cowlings and cockpit enclosure constructed of aluminum.

 Beech’s use of wood permitted them to subcontract the production of many components to furniture makers and other firms.  Over half of the U.S. Army Air Force's pilots received transitional training from single- to multi-engine aircraft in them – yet none are flying today.

 A good friend of mine is involved in the restoration of an AT-10. When they are finished it will be the only one flying.  My question is, do you know of anyone who has any parts for the AT-10?   Between 1941 and 1943, Beech built 1,771 AT-10s and Globe Aircraft  built 600 in Dallas, Texas.  So, there must be some of parts and pieces still around.

 If you know of materials related to the AT-10 let us know!

Have you checked out the new Garmin Aera yet?

I was just wondering what Garmin was going to come up with next and here it is. The QVTA wide-format 4.3 inch screen is crisp and relatively easy to use, even with my five thumbs. The screen offers a menu-driven tap-and-drag interface.

The Aera's Sectional chart-style shaded mapping, terrain and aviation databases with a color terrain advisory feature and pop-up alerts when possible obstructions or the ground is coming at you.

The 550 and 560 have chards and taxi diagrams for more than 950 airports. This is Garmin’s most comprehensive GA product yet. I have a 496 that’s made my flying easier and safer and was well worth the investment. The new Aera is an improvement over an already remarkable product line. We just posted a video on the new Aera in the AircraftOwner Videos section ( http://www.aircraftowner.com/members/profile/1/video/440 ).
Check it out!