phik

I was going to write about it yesterday, but I’m glad I waited, because two people got the job started for me.

As seems to be typical with aviation news, the coverage of this story has been idiotic. One of Perth’s local news stations even drummed up a Qantas A320 captain to give a sound bite about how great their airmanship was. If that is what passes for superior judgment at Qantas, their world-best safety record may be in for some rough times.

Elevating the crew to hero status overlooks the fact that they put the plane and passengers into that awful situation in the first place. This wasn’t a sudden and unforeseeable loss of power on short final, as happened at Heathrow in January. This was a string of poor decisions, probably hours long, that almost killed 131 people.

The crew decided to leave Munich knowing that a hurricane was blowing through Hamburg; they decided not to divert once they arrived and conditions hadn’t improved; they decided to use runway 23 instead of 33, and accept a 50% stronger crosswind (wind from 290); they decided to attempt a landing after an unstabilised approach. The pilot’s skill, and probably a bit of luck, saved them from disaster.

It is often suggested that the prudent pilot will ask himself how confident he would feel explaining his decision-making process to a judge, or how it would read in an NTSB report. I think the final report on this one will not be nearly as kind as the pundits’ sound bites.

I’ve been in Perth for twelve weeks now, but so busy that I haven’t left the city at all.

There is plenty to see and do in Western Australia, but those sights are almost all very far apart from one another. Enter the light aeroplane.

It was a busy day at Hyden airport.

INVISIBLE AIRPORT

You don’t get the reference, and that’s fine; it doesn’t make you a bad person.

It’s hard to believe after the flying of last summer, but I’m pretty sure that Wave Rock is the first time I’ve operated on an unsealed runway. It’s extremely well-maintained, the kind of nice, flat runway that is probably almost effortless in a climate that never experiences frozen water.

I think it gets a daily commercial flight from someplace, probably Perth, so at 1000m long it’s about three times as much runway as I need. Not that I’m complaining.

the walk from the airport is through a dead, barren wasteland

I live in the desert that is Perth, I spent a few days last summer in the eastern deserts, but this is the most desolate place I’ve ever been. It looks like the bush was torched and then salted, lest anything ever grow again, which is probably not as far from the truth as it sounds. Farmers are constantly fighting a war on salinity.

It’s almost all you could see in any direction, except for the road back to the airport, and it radiated death.

the famous wave rock, object of my visitation

There are many internet web home page sites that will tell you all about the rock itself, the algae that adorns it, and the catchment area of which it forms a part.

I will tell you that it is very tall, about 15m, and a pretty interesting rock. There are a lot of details, for someone with enough forethought to bring a macro lens. But I really preferred the climbing around on top part.

The aeroplane is a tiny speck.

February in the Australian desert is very hot

Please let there be no misunderstandings, false impressions, misconceptions, or misapprehensions. It was 38 earth degrees in the shade, of which there is none.

I had a short delay clearing security on my way out.

Would I drive four hours in a car, each way, to see Wave Rock? Probably not. Maybe once. Almost certainly not twice.

But 90 minutes each way was a pleasant journey (its own reward, it is said, and rarely truer than in the aeroplane) and an interesting destination. It has the important benefit of the airstrip being 500m from the main attraction.

(Complete photoset)

The system (kind of) works!

In response to the complaints of AOPA and pilots, the FAA has relented and effectively removed the objectionable parts of the Airworthiness Directive that I complained so bitterly about.

The FAA issued an approval for an Alternative Method of Compliance that boils down to (a) check the blade during major inspections, and (b) do a visual inspection before each flight (like Robinson told you to do back in April).

In particular, there are no onerous logging requirements and student pilots can do the inspection. This is a tremendous victory for common sense.

Those of you who bothered to send a comment to the FAA — I read them all, I know who you are! — thank you!

Those of you who didn’t, even though you’re a pilot who understands the issues — for shame…

On January 3, the FAA issued an Airworthiness Directive that goes into effect on January 18 — zero notice, without the customary public comment period.

It attempts to address a safety issue concerning Robinson helicopter blades — one that is already amply covered by Robinson service bulletins, service letters, and safety alerts — but does so in a terribly ham-fisted way. There are two serious problems.

First, it requires the pilot to make an entry in the maintenance logbook before each flight, stating that a visual inspection was conducted. This is bad policy not only because these entries will flood the logbooks with useless entries, but also because everyone in the aviation universe recommends that maintenance logbooks not be kept in the aircraft.

In the event of an accident, they may be the only insight into how the aircraft was maintained, which exact parts were present, when they were installed, and so on. To require their presence for this meaningless preflight signature runs contrary to all prior wisdom, especially since any competent pilot is already doing a pre-flight blade inspection.

Second, it screws student pilots by explicitly prohibiting them from making these inspections, effectively preventing them from legally flying solo.

Yes, they could arrange for another pilot to inspect the blades prior to departure (a pilot who, frankly, may have even less experience with helicopters than the student). But that doesn’t help if the student needs to stop for fuel on a long cross-country. Or wants to make the prudent decision to shut down and take a break at his destination. Both actions are now prohibited.

Whether or not you fly helicopters or fly at all, if you understand why this is important I urge you to submit a comment to the FAA. Even if you’re a foreign pilot this may end up affecting you, as other countries typically look to FAA Airworthiness Directives for guidance.

Reversing nonsense like this is all about the volume of outcry.

My comment is below, although it’s not showing on regulations.gov yet.

If this AD merely mandated a one-time maintenance inspection plus the visual inspections that pilots should already do, that would be one thing. Then it would be merely redundant, instead of an active hindrance.

To require documentation for each flight is both unreasonable and counterproductive. It requires that maintenance logs remain in the aircraft and therefore subject to loss or damage in an accident, contrary to all standard practice. This additional paperwork does nothing to increase safety, and may well reduce it, as it clutters logbooks with useless signatures and obscures truly relevant updates.

Furthermore, the impact on renters and student pilots is unacceptable. The status of renters as opposed to owner/operators in the AD is undefined, and the inability for students to fly solo is explicit.

There is useful precedent in SFAR 73: once a student pilot has received ground training and meets experience requirements, he is permitted to operate solo. Avoiding the dangerous flight conditions outlined in SFAR 73 requires far more care and responsibility than a simple pre-flight blade inspection — yet under this AD, a student is prohibited from doing so.

This AD places a significant burden on helicopter owners and operators without any additional safety benefit. It was issued on extremely short notice without a public comment period, even though these issues have been known to Robinson and the FAA for more than a year.

This AD should be withdrawn immediately, before it begins to disrupt operations on January 18. If the FAA feels so strongly that the existing procedures or a mandatory update to the POH are insufficient, then it would be proper to introduce a rethought AD with the customary notice and public comment process.

I’m reading this Human Performance and Limitations book, in preparation for the written half of converting my FAA licence to an Australian one. It is fascinating, in sometimes-unexpected ways.

For starters, you can tell it was written by an Australian: “The maximum recommended alcohol intake over a period of one week is 21 to 28 standard drinks.” Four drinks per day, every day, is apparently within recommended tolerances.

It gives ancient advice regarding flying and scuba diving. Modern advice is to allow at least 12 hours after a single dive before going above 2,000 feet; 18 hours after multiple dives. This book recommends 4 hours, and suggests that even that may be unnecessary until above 8,000 feet. Some people would consider this advice to be criminal for a book printed in June 2007.

It also contains some interesting things I didn’t know — if it can be trusted, after that dodgy scuba advice. Like the fact that noises of 150 dB or more will cause sweating to occur between the fingers and under the collar. (!)

I rang the local helicopter hire/training place this week, to inquire about their R44.

I knew it would be more expensive here. I had girded my loins for this practicality.

Jandakot Helicopters, however, charges 880 rapidly-appreciating Australian dollars per hour.

That is roughly seven hundred and seventy-five Earth dollars, more than two and a half times what I pay in Boston.

Or to put that in some perspective, after 400 hours I could buy the ship outright. (It has a useful life of 2,200 hours before a very major overhaul is required.)

And some people seem genuinely surprised that general aviation in Australia is dead.

I have a lot of friends who are user-interface-savvy, some of whom even have advanced degrees in perhaps-relevant areas of study.

So maybe some of them could please start applying for jobs at Garmin (and probably all of the other glass-panel avionics manufacturers beside).

I’ve never used a G1000 in flight, but I’ve read plenty about them, and every single experience goes something like this. Which, given the infuriating interface of the simpler Garmin aircraft GPS units to which I’m accustomed, is no surprise.

Donald Norman is spinning in his grave and he’s not even dead yet.

These are not the idle complaints of nitpicky rich people who need day jobs. It’s not like having a handle on a “push” door. This is turning a plane full of people into a fine pink mist because a pilot gets confused about where the mountaintop is on a low-visibility approach.

I bet that before the decade is out, we’ll have at least a dozen NTSB reports that include terrible glass-cockpit user interfaces in the probable cause.

[this article originally appeared IN MY MIND on Nov 19 --ed]

I haven’t written about the chopper lately, because it’s been mostly boring solo flight.

I did the two cross-country flights last week, the second almost as slowly as I could bear to fly. The R44 is too fast, and I didn’t want to have to do a third to reach 3.0 XC hours.

I’m leaving on Monday for my winter in Australia, though, so the pressure has been on to finish the rating before I go. I should have plenty of time, unless another hurricane blews through. I need another 2.5 hours of solo time, but I flew with another instructor before the weather arrived and he said he was ready to sign me off.

Unfortunately, we have a bit of a problem with what should be the easiest part — actually finding an examiner. Of the two examiners they normally use, one isn’t current in the R44, and the other was in Florida all week.

He is, however, willing to do a checkride in Sarasota, FL this weekend. If I can get a flight, he’ll get a helicopter.

It looks pretty doable: fly to Tampa Monday morning; rent a car for the hour drive to Sarasota. Get the checkride started by noon, then unwind the travel stack in time to be asleep in Boston Sunday night.

Tuesday and Wednesday came and went with serious winds; much too gusty for my comfort.

Thursday and Friday came and went with low ceilings, rain, and more gusty winds. Thunderstorms nearby, even.

By the time Friday was scratched, there was almost no way that I’d be properly prepared. Not to mention that I still didn’t have the house packed up.

So I didn’t go to Florida.

I only needed 0.5 hours, but we stayed up for 0.6. Reminds me of my last instrument training session, 0.3 in the simulator to get me to 40.1 instrument hours three days before my checkride.

It wasn’t wasted time, however; it was very windy, so we practiced hovering maneuvers and traffic patterns in wind that was stronger and gustier than I’d want to tackle by myself. It was fun.

I have somehow reverted to being consistently too steep again on my approaches. It happens even with a strong wind helping me out, so I must be getting the angle all wrong. I’ll have to practice my patterns when I get back to Boston and start flying solo.

Hopefully I’ll get my medical back tomorrow, as planned.

Flying time: 0.6 hours (20.1 total)

I haven’t planned a VFR cross-country flight without any navigational aids since my ab initio training. We have a handheld GPS (which I opted not to use), but the helicopter doesn’t have a VOR, or even an ADF.

I wanted to make sure I can still follow roads and power lines and other visual waypoints without cheating; turns out I can. It’s just harder in a helicopter, because you never have both hands free. If you take your hand off the cyclic, you won’t have very long to regret it.

Cross-country flights for the purpose of getting a helicopter rating don’t need to be as long as for an airplane, so we just went to Portsmouth, congratulated ourselves on a job well done, then landed at Petey’s for lunch.

My first off-airport landing was uneventful. Sure draws a crowd, though.

After lunch — next time I will try the supposedly best sea scallops on the coast — we did a touch-and-go at Plum Island to meet the third-airport requirement, then back to Bedford.

I’m an idiot, so I only have the after-lunch GPS track.

Flying time: 1.8 hours (19.5 total)