The 2006 aerobatic season is underway. In fact, fully one-third of the California contests are already in the books. I finished in second place at the Borrego MiniFest and a distant sixth at Apple Valley. I haven’t written anything about it as yet, mainly because I’ve been too busy flying to write about flying.
This is a good thing.
But let me back up and talk about how I got here.
As I wrote in December, my career in aerobatics was at a crossroads after last season. I wanted to move up to Intermediate, but couldn’t do so in the Super Decathlon. After running the financials, and thanks in no small part to the experience of owning Tweety for several years, I bought into a partnership in an Pitts S-2B.
I’m sure you’ll all want to see the art work before I drone on about the mundane details of aircraft ownership, so here are some photographs that were taken at the L.A. Gold Cup competition last month:
In the words of George Costanza, “Yeah, she’s a sweet ride”. This is true as much because of the circumstances as the actual airplane. See, this isn’t just any S-2B. It’s an aircraft which is on leaseback where I work. It’s available for checkouts and solo rental — one of the few Pitts Specials that you can fly solo, I might add.
The rarity of solo rentals has made N1191 very popular. We have folks who regularly come from as far away as Japan to fly it. The leaseback revenue has been high enough that it keeps the partners cost extremely low. Much moreso than I’d be able to swing with any other partnership, let alone if I were to buy an aircraft outright.
A partnership also made sense because it’s unlikely any friction will develop between the owners about who takes the plane for the weekend. A Pitts is not a good cross country aircraft. It’s cramped, noisy, and uncomfortable. It was designed for one thing: aerobatics. As such, when it leaves the area, it’s probably going to be enroute to a competition. And all the owners will be going, too. So where scheduling is concerned, our desires are nearly always aligned.
Finally, as anyone who’s been in an aircraft partnership will tell you, these arrangements are akin to a marriage: you’re attached financially and personally to the other owners. So you better get along. And the partners in this aircraft were already a known quantity to me. I’d spend time with them at competitions, seen how they treated the airplane, and knew we’d be a good match because we’re already friends.
I also like the fact that the airplane isn’t moving to a new home. It’s been based at SNA for more than a decade. The maintenance and upkeep will be done by the same people who’ve managed it since day one. I don’t have to worry about where to hangar the aircraft (it’s already got one), how much the insurance will cost (the same as it did before I owned it), and what the tax consequences will be (there are none).
Of course, there has to be a down side, right? Nothing’s free. In this particular arrangement, what I’m giving up is the freedom to fly the plane whenever I want. We have a scheduling system that everyone, even the owners, must use. If I want to fly it tomorrow morning and it’s already booked, I’m out of luck. But at a total cost of operation of $85/hour, this is a limitation I can live with. I just have to plan my flights a little further in advance, that’s all.
If I learned anything from owning my other aircraft, it’s that the purchase price is a small piece of the financial puzzle. An engine overhaul or airframe repair can easily blow your budget wide open, no matter how much money you hold in reserve. Case in point: the canopy on the Pitts has been lost before. One time it wasn’t latched properly. Another time the jettisoning mechanism had worn beyond limits and the canopy fell to the ground after a flight. This is a $5,000 part. An engine overhaul is in the $30,000 range. Prop overhauls are more than $2,000.
As the saying goes, a few thousand here, a few thousand there, and pretty soon you’re talking about real money.
Speaking of mishaps, I can already recount a Bad Day I had with N1191. It was at the last competition. I was in a hurry to refuel the airplane after my flight and get over to the judging line. Everything was fine until I reached into my pocket to grab the fuel strainer. I couldn’t find it. Turns out that I had left the strainer in the fuel hose extension (where it is stored), and when I put fuel in the plane, the pressure of the 100LL going into the tank had dumped the fuel strainer into the tank as well.
You should have seen the look on my face when I realized what had happened. I spent the next two minutes cursing myself with the most colorful idioms. From what I’ve been told, it was quite entertaining. I figured that the competition was over for me. And the other partners. Nice way to join the group, don’t you think?
In the end, the day was saved by the fuel truck driver. He somehow managed to fish the strainer out of the tank using nothing but an 18″ spring loaded claw, flashlight, and one of those magnetic doo-dads that are used to pick up washers and screws from hard to reach places. I don’t know how he did it. If you look at a photo of the Pitts, you’ll see that the acro tank filler cap is only a few inches from the bottom of the top wing, leaving very little space to even get your head in there and see what’s going on, let alone fishing something out of the tank.
I could have hugged him. But instead I pulled out my wallet and said, “I don’t know how much is in here, but whatever it is, please take it!” He wouldn’t hear of it, but I at least managed to buy the guy lunch.
One of the owners later told me that years ago, something similar had happened. The difference is that when they went about retrieving the fuel strainer, they didn’t find one in the tank, they found three.
Good times.
I’ve got about 25 hours in the plane now, and my impressions are generally good. It’s certainly a higher performance bird than the Super D, but I sometimes fail to account for the tremendous drag presented by the airframe. On the way back from Apple Valley, I flew in formation with the Extra 300 and had to apply full power to keep up with it. The Extra was running at about 15″.
I wish I’d have learned that lesson sooner. I zeroed a figure at that competition because I fell out of an inverted lay out after a vertical roll. And I had entered the maneuver at nearly Vne! The high drag and wing loading are especially apparent during any attempt to “glide”. I use the word in quotes because a better adjective might be “fall”. It comes nearly straight down. On an extremely tight downwind, if I pull the power abeam the runway numbers, I barely make the runway from 1300′ AGL. They should consider using the S-2B to train shuttle pilots…
I have a high level of respect, maybe even a little fear, of the Pitts. Oh, not because of spins. I’ve spun it every possible way and it exits even the most aggrevated spin mode beautifully. No, I’m talking about the structure. The structure is extremely light. I don’t see a whole lot of crashworthiness in the plane. Combined with the poor glide ratio, high landing speed, and landing gear configuration, it certainly must give one pause when thinking about engine failure scenarios. When Gray and I ferried the Pitts and Extra out to Apple Valley in marginal VFR last month, I asked to fly the Extra because flying at 2000′ AGL for any length of time in the Pitts just made me very uncomfortable.
In closing, I will note that the Pitts has a legendary reputation as an unpredictable and highly difficult airplane to land. From what I can tell, the reputation is undeserved. The Pitts, like any other airplane, will do what you tell it to do. I found the transition to be easier than moving into the Extra 300. Once you get the sight picture down and can roundout low enough, it’s no different than any other aircraft. Get the nose straight. Stop the drift. And when it’s on the ground, keep it going straight.
Now, if you never learned how to do those things in other aircraft, the Pitts is certainly capable of teaching you a lesson you won’t forget. But it’s not a machine that will disobey pilot input.
So that’s it. A new adventure begins!
Now. Who wants to go for a RIDE??
Lesley and I just got back from a great trip to the central California coast.
It wasn’t a flying trip — I did a Norcal trip via plane the week before last. But more on that later.
Those of you who know me know I don’t like driving long distances in cars. I mean, isn’t that why God created the airplane? But nevertheless, the trip was great fun. Even the driving was low stress.
On Saturday the 3rd, we rumbled into Solvang, where the local time was holy cow it’s a bazillion degrees here. You could’ve cooked an egg on the sidewalk. In fact, maybe we did. The heat was so intense that I might not remember it. So we got our pastry and got the hell out of there.
The next stop was La Purissima, one of the original California missions. Purissima is great because it was completely rebuilt by one of the New Deal companies during the Great Depression, so it’s in amazingly good shape. On Sunday, we toured Mission San Miguel, which was closed due to earthquake damage. We didn’t intend this to be a “mission vacation”, but it sort of turned out that way. It might go a short way toward correcting my abysmal California history knowledge.
Anyway, in 2003, a major quake destabilized the 200+ year old San Miguel adobe structure, and it’s been uninhabitable since. Very sad. The cost of repairing the damage is more than $15 million, and it three years they’ve only been able to come up with about $1.5 million. At this rate, they won’t have the cash until 2030.
It’s interesting to see how some missions are still in great shape, others are overgrown ruins. Some are active parishes, while others don’t even have a visitor’s center to mark their presence. As with all things, money undoubtedly plays a central role.
Speaking of which, later that day we took a garden tour of Hearst Castle. This was the only tour I hadn’t been on, and it was well worth the wait. Lesley thought so, too. One of the most interesting facts the docent told us was that the entire grounds were maintained by only three full time gardeners. They used to have a dozen, but state budget cuts have lead to some lean times. I was amazed that three people could maintain an estate of that size.
One of the highlights of the trip was a visit to the Steinbeck Center in Salinas. Lesley loaned me “Cannery Row”, which I read just before we hit Salinas. We also toured the sites Steinbeck writes about on Cannery Row. We walked Fisherman’s Wharf and had dinner there. Took a walking tour of some of the downtown area. Drove to Cannery Row, shopped, had lunch, went to Monterey Bay Aquarium. Drove to Carmel, visited the Mission there.
A very busy few days! Photos are online.
Alternative titles: ”A Place Called Vertigo”, or perhaps ”How to Dismantle an Atomic Pitts”
An F-14 has nothing on this baby. Speaking of which, isn’t it ironic that the Tomcat has been retired while the Pitts Special – a 1940’s design! — is entering it’s sixth decade of production?
There’s just no end to the cool photography one can generate when you’ve got an airplane like this. A 20″ wide glossy print of this photo is being framed right now. It’s going to be the centerpiece of my home office. The composite image shows the runways of the old El Toro Marine Corps Air station in the background.
What would make this even cooler? Well, future plans for the aircraft include reinstalling the smoke system and putting in a video system with multiple cameras. Great for demo rides, debriefing aerobatic training flights, and plain old everyday fun.
Fellow IAC36 competitor James Pratt borrowed a digital video camera and made this video of his practice session in the Super Decathlon today. This is the aircraft I flew last season before moving into the S-2B.
Speaking of which, the video is interesting because there’s a lot of talk about video systems right now. A two camera system is being installed in the Extra 300, and we’re interested in putting a two or three camera system into the Pitts. Combined with the smoke system, it will make a great addition to the demo flights we do in that aircraft.
Anyway, back to James’ video. He should be flying in a higher category and move up from the Super D, but the cost gets prohibitive. Quickly.
You’ll see him run through the sequence twice. The first time, the camera is pointed at his face. Despite appearances, this is not (always) due to vanity. No, it’s so he can see where he’s looking. If a maneuver is not working out well, it is often because the pilot is not looking in the right place at the right time. Plus it’s funny to see yourself get scrunched down in the seat by the Gs, and as we all know, the ability to laugh at oneself is important — right up there with putting your video online so we can all giggle at it.
The second time through, the camera is pointed straight ahead. Believe it or not, this is one of the least useful angles for aerobatic training. In general, I think looking out at the wing, back toward the tail, or across the aircraft will be far more enlightening than looking straight forward. The wing view will reveal common flaws with vertical lines, 45s, departure from the X-axis track during looping maneuvers, and so on.
The video was taken at the Blockhouse, an unimproved area of south Orange County that we use for aerobatic flight. It’s one of the only places left around here that meets the requirements of 14 CFR 91.303. Comprised of three closely spaced, parallel north-south valleys, on any given day you’ll find as many as four airplanes using this space at one time. It requires a high level of situational awareness. It think this pays off, though, because I’ve noticed that folks who practice over featureless areas or open water have a harder time managing their position in a marked aerobatic box.
During the video, you’ll hear the Pitts (N1191) make a call inbound to the Blockhouse. James is in the central valley. One of the other Decathlons (N5535K) shifts from the east valley to the west valley to make room for the Pitts. We keep the S-2B in the east valley as much as possible for noise abatement. This Blockhouse ballet is pretty amazing when you step back and look at it.
Sometimes I think about the hundreds of pilots who have trained — and trained others — at the Blockhouse. I would not be surprised if this was the most active aerobatic practice area in the country. Unfortunately, the Blockhouse is at risk as developers build homes ever closer to our practice area. I am hopeful that a serious slowdown in the housing market will allow this aerobatic haven to flourish for a while longer.
As they say, supplies are running out. And once it’s gone, it’s gone.
It seems that Los Angeles County Sheriff Lee Baca thinks he’s above the law. Normally he’d be right.
But Baca’s department demonstrated a custom designed unmanned surveillance drone to the media last week. The problem? They ignored written counsel from the Federal Aviation Administration, which had told the Sheriff’s Department that flying the drone would require certification from the Feds before flight would be allowed.
They flew the drone anyway.
“I wouldn’t want to term us as peeved, but we were definitely surprised,” FAA spokeswoman Laura Brown said. Sheriff’s officials were told “that we were more than willing to sit down and talk about a certificate — but that was before their first flight.”
The FAA is now investigating Friday’s demonstration to determine whether the Sheriff’s Department should face disciplinary action.
Until the investigation is over, Brown said, the agency will not authorize the county’s use of the drones.
Good.
The way I see it, pilots and aircraft operators of all sizes all have to go through certification. We pay the price in time, money, and effort in order to use the national airspace system. Now Lee Baca thinks he can just purchase a couple dozen drones and fly them around the Los Angeles area with impunity?
I don’t think so.
If the LAPD wants regulatory relief from the FAA, they can get in line with the rest of us.
Sheriff’s officials dismissed the conflict as a misunderstanding that would soon be cleared up. But they were incredulous about what they consider red tape getting in the way of their law enforcement tool.
There’s no misunderstanding. The FAA considers the drone to be an aircraft requiring certification. The Sheriff’s Department took a different view and decided that they were not only the boss of the streets, but the final authority in the air as well. Don’t need to be coy, Roy.
“A private citizen can go to the store and buy one of those model airplanes and fly them around. But because we’re doing it as a public service, we have to deal with the FAA?” said Sheriff’s Cmdr. Sid Heal. Once they “take a deep breath and realize there was no malice intended, it will get back on track.”
No, you don’t have to deal with the FAA “because you’re doing it as a public service”. You have to deal with the FAA because you’re operating something the Feds have determined requires certification. Obviously they don’t consider it a model airplane. You disagree with the FAA? Join the club. But they are the ones who administer law in the air, and if I have to follow their mandates, so do you. Hop on the bus, Gus.
And if malicious intent was a benchmark for FAA enforcement, the world would be a much different place my friend.
Baca said Wednesday that he was unaware of the FAA investigation but downplayed the dispute.
“There’s no reason for the FAA to be concerned,” he said, calling the drones “non-invasive and nearly silent.”
Since when is Lee Baca an expert on the National Airspace System? Is he aware that there are well over 100 instrument approach procedures in use in the Los Angeles basin? Does he know where Class E surface areas are located and what might be in them during marginal conditions?
Without the proper training, one of these drones could easily collide with an airplane coming out of the clouds. Pilots know this and are trained to maintain appropriate distance from clouds when flying under visual flight rules so there will be enough time for evasive action.
What will his response be when an airplane, helicopter, blimp, or other craft has a midair or near-midair with one of these harmless objects? Is he aware of the location and dimensions of protected airspace around runways? Does he know that helicopters fly as low as 50′ off the deck at times? Of course not. But he’s the Sheriff, and nobody’d better mess with him on his turf.
My advice? Make a new plan, Stan.
Sport Aerobatics is the monthly magazine for the International Aerobatic Club.
It’s a pretty good read. Of all the magazines I get — and there are quite a few of them – I like this one the most. It’s the smallest, but the content is right up my alley. “Let’s talk about aerobatics!”. The magazine is also one of the things IAC is trying to improve upon because it serves IAC’s two constituencies: competition pilots and those who fly aerobatics recreationally.
The magazine has a pretty, glossy cover. But don’t be fooled, the total membership in IAC is only 4,500 people. I’d be surprised if they print more than 6,000 copies of each issue. It’s a small club, unfortunately. I say unfortunately because a few vocal people out there that hate airplanes and would be glad to see aerobatics banned. Our only sure defense relies on strength in numbers.
Anyway, every month they print a “personality profile” on one pilot. Guess who’s in the June issue?
There’s something very satisfying about instrument flying.
I’m not sure if it’s the precision, the difficulty, the pilot/controller teamwork, or the sheer magic of being able to whisk through three dimensional space for hours on end without seeing anything outside the aircraft, navigating and maintaining ones situational awareness all the while.
Despite what the some would have you believe, all instrument ratings are not created equal. I have yet to see a pilot who earned their rating at one of the accelerated Arizona programs who was able to handle the workload in the L.A. area without some remedial training. It’s not a snub at those programs per se. You just don’t have the exposure to actual IMC and high density operation out there in the desert.
Case in point: I made a literal cross-country flight (Duluth, MN to Orange County, CA) with one of my instrument students in a new SR22. We shot many approaches along the way, and he did a nice job. But nothing could prepare him for coming over the Cajon Pass and being given the following pop-up IFR clearance:
Cleared to SNA via make a right 360, fly heading 175, when able proceed direct Paradise, depart on the Paradise 270 radial, victor 363, victor 8, Seal Beach, direct, descend and maintain 5000, squawk 4672, and contact Socal now on 135.4.
The controller read so fast that my student was only able to write down the first bit. I knew this would happen and was prepared to pick up the slack, because when actual IMC conditions prevail, the controller is swamped, and you’re asking for the favor of a pop-up clerance, you have to make a strong first impression or ATC will simply refuse to give you IFR (as is their right).
Naturally, there were two revisions between Paradise and SNA, and what we actually flew bore no resemblance to the original or amended clearances.
The point is, this is a brutal environment in which to learn. It takes longer, costs more, and is more stressful. But it results in a much better instrument pilot.
Whether you concur with that statement or not, I’m confident most pilots would agree that the instrument rating is the most challenging certification to obtain. And maintain. This is especially true here in the Los Angeles basin due to the traffic density. There are scads of airplanes, airports, and the frequencies are usually jam-packed. This can lead to pilots and controllers attempting to take shortcuts with radio phraseology in order to be more efficient. Unfortunately, this rarely works.
This brings me to the reason for this article. My latest pet peeve is a shortcut that ATC seems to be taking more and more frequently these days: they vector pilots around without telling them where they’re going.
I’m quite sure that this happens to other pilots as well, so I’m curious about why it never gets mentioned. I was taught (and it makes perfect sense) that any time a controller takes you off your clearance and starts vectoring you, they are supposed to tell you where you’re going.
This is important because if you lose communication with ATC in actual instrument condition, you have to know where to go. The regulations state that if you lose comm in IMC during radar vectoring, you should proceed to the that location. How are you supposed to do that if you don’t know where you’re being vectored?
I asked a DPE about this, and was told that controllers often omit the vector limit when they know the weather is solid VFR. On the surface, this seems reasonable. After all, the regulations state that if you lose communication while in visual conditions, you should remain VFR and land. If the weather is good, why bother providion a vector clearance that will never be used?
I can think of two reasons. First, because it’s required. When providing radar vectors, FAA Order 7110.65R states the following in section 5-6-2:
b. When initiating a vector, advise the pilot of the purpose.
PHRASEOLOGY-
VECTOR TO (fix or airway).VECTOR TO INTERCEPT (name of NAVAID) (specified) RADIAL.
VECTOR FOR SPACING.
VECTOR TO FINAL APPROACH COURSE,
or if the pilot does not have knowledge of the type of
approach,VECTOR TO (approach name) FINAL APPROACH COURSE.
It’s interesting to note that while it says “advise the pilot of the purpose“, four of the five examples given are locations, not reasons. The only exception is “vector for spacing”. All the others are “vector to some location”. While we’re on the topic, “vector for traffic” doesn’t show up on that list. How often have you received that one?
Also, notice that 7110.65 does not make any exception for specific meterological conditions. If the aircraft is flying under Instrument Flight Rules and the controller starts to vector it, as far ask I know, the pilot should be given a vector limit regardless of the weather.
The second, and more important, reason controllers should provide a vector limit is because when they don’t, a red flag should be raised in the pilot’s mind. He should ask where he’s being vectored. As it stands now, pilots are learning or re-learning instrument flight all over the L.A. basin and not asking this question. We’re becoming de-sensitized to the situation.
What’s going to happen when they’re being vectored in actual IMC? Yeah, they won’t know where they’re going.
The larger picture? Pilots are not navigating. “Navigating” is the process of finding your way from one place to another. If you don’t know where you’re going, you’re not navigating, are you? You’ve effectively abdicated that responsibiilty to ATC, closing your eyes and allowing them to blindly lead you by the hand. This is dangerous, not to mention the fact that you won’t know when you get wherever you’re going! If ATC says “radar vectors to final approach course” and five minutes later you blow through the localizer, you know to speak up. If all you get is “turn left heading XXX”, you are a lot less likely to say something when that needle swings.
The answer to this problem is simple. Insist on a vector limit. I’ve become more stringent about requiring my students to always know where they’re going during radar vectoring. Rule #1 when flying IFR is to maintain situational awareness. You can’t do that if you don’t know where you’re going.
