Are Needle, Ball, and Airspeed Obsolete?

With the advent of the Glass Age, I’ve been seeing more and more pilots question the need for traditional needle/ball/airspeed instrument skills. Why bother to learn the technology of yesterday, they ask?

On the surface, this question makes sense. After all, who even manufactures aircraft with non-glass panels anymore? Heck, even the venerable Legend Cub is being built with a Dynon D10A these days. At my home field, we have a Waco UPF-7 (a 1930′s era open-cockpit biplane) with a Garmin glass panel. It looks more like you’re sitting on the bridge of the starship Enterprise than in a barnstormer ready to dust crops.

There’s no doubt that glass panels have fewer insidious failure modes than analog instruments. Instead of an attitude indicator that slowly rolls over (possibly taking the pilot with it), you get a giant red “X” leaving no doubt about the quality of the AHRS data.

And, lest we forget, many of the pilots who balk at an six-pack instrument panel probably don’t see one that often. They fly newer airframes, experimentals, turbines, and read industry publications that rarely even show a non-glass instrument panel. Out of sight, out of mind. So the question is a good one, but my answer may surprise you.

In my opinion, the traditional analog instruments are not obsolete, if only by virtue of the fact that out of the 200,000+ GA aircraft in existence, probably 90% of them have the older style panel. These airplanes are mostly certificated in the Normal category, and it would be neither cost effective or legally possible to put newer style instrument panels into those aircraft at the present time.

Of course, if you have an RV-X and only plan on flying that airplane and it’s got glass and you can fly it proficiently (including partial-panel, whatever that may look like in your ship), then there is no need to be able to fly with a turn coordinator, altimeter, and airspeed indicator.

On the other hand, when I train students to fly IFR in glass airplanes like the SR22 and Columbia, I ensure they can fly a traditional six pack as well via simulator training. There are several reasons for this:

  • I want them to be a complete instrument pilot able to fly more than just an Avidyne or G1000
  • Second, I want them to understand the way analog instruments work since there are analog instruments even in those glass aircraft, and they have different failure modes and different scans than an AHRS-based system
  • Third, it’s harder to go “back” to analog instruments than it is to go “forward” to glass panels if you’re already a rated and experienced pilot, so I want the heavy lifting to be done while we’re already doing the heavy lifting: during primary instrument training.

I disagree with those who feel instructors are anti-GPS, anti-glass, attached to older technology, or provide unrealistic failure modes for no good reason. I know none who have that attitude. On the other hand, we often turn those devices off or direct a student’s focus elsewhere because it’s necessary for training. If we don’t push your workload to the breaking point, fail instruments and radios, etc. then we’re not doing our job.

Anyone can fly IFR when everything’s working. I’ve seen pilots who aren’t even instrument trained do it. But when you’re on one engine or partial panel in the clouds, a passenger is airsick, you need a bathroom break, the fuel is getting low, it’s night, and you’re tired, that’s not the time to find out how well you perform when stress is high. That’s why we push you hard. If you ever have a bad day and come out the other side in one piece, you’ll understand that.

I Love Days Like This

It’s so rare to get true winter weather here in Southern California. But as Lesley always says, it never fails to rain on opening night, and last night was no exception. Boy did it pour!

I nearly broke into a Gene Kelly-esque dance all the way down Avenue of the Arts as I made my way to OCPAC for the opening night performance of Die Zauberflöte. Ave. of the Arts even has the right kind of street lights for it! But there’s something about the ultra-modern look of the theaters which kept me from indulging myself. (Note: I may also have been concerned about looking stupid, although that’s never stopped me before).

I’ve been making quite a few flights to northern California lately, and this weather has certainly made that part of my day job interesting. I’m not used to seeing low pressure systems around here, but California has been surrounded by them for the past week. Several cold fronts have blown through, bringing lower snow levels and higher concerns about in-flight icing. It’s the one thing that really worries me when flying, and it must be approached with extreme caution. This is especially true in fast composite ships with so-called “laminar flow” airfoils, as contaminating this kind of wing leads to an especially dramatic loss of performance.

The last two round trips have been in a TKS-equipped SR22. Despite low freezing levels and airmets for icing, IFR conditions, mountain obscuration, and turbulence, I was comfortable flying the route because I knew the tops were 10-12,000′. There were plenty of alternate airports nearby, and the deicing fluid was topped off to give me some time to get out of any ice which did build. As it turns out, there was only one bit of ice worth noting, right as I climbed out of the top of a cloud layer. The worst icing is often found at the tops of clouds, so that wasn’t a surprise. For the most part, between ATC and PIREPS I was able to stay out of the precip most of the time when I was above the freezing level.

The TKS system works much better when you prime it properly. The first time I ever tried using TKS, it seemed to be useless. It was a summer flight across the Dakotas a few years ago. No one had ever told me that it can take several minutes for the fluid to make its way to the outboard panels, and by that time the ice could have covered the panels so thoroughly that they’d be unable to protect the wing.

Now, my standard preflight procedure on the system is to top off the TKS tank (the only way you’ll know how much fluid is on board), turn on the pump to ensure it works, and wait for fluid to come out of each panel before turning it off. Then, when you enable the system in flight, you’ll get immediate protection. I’ve standardized on coating the wings and tail surfaces with deice fluid (“normal” setting) before entering precip when it’s below freezing, and using the “maximum” setting at the first sign of ice.

Of course, the airplane is not approved for known-icing, so the TKS is just one tool to buy you time to change altitudes, turn around, find VMC, get to warmer air, or something else which will stop the accumulation.

The worse thing about ice is that it’s unpredictable. We don’t really understand why it occurs in some places and not in others, even when the conditions seem to be ripe for it in both places. It might be light icing for one pilot and severe for another one who flies through the same piece of sky only minutes later.

Pilots hate the unknown more than anything else. We strive for complete control over the flight, and that means being able to predict with certainty every critical aspect of our aircraft’s performance. Ice robs us of that capability. Our climb rates, airspeeds, handling, and other characteristics change. The airplane takes on a new personality, and the only thing you know for sure is that it won’t be as friendly as the one you’re used to.

Whoever said ice belongs in your drink and not on your airplane was right.

On the ground, though, all this rain has been a welcome sight after years of drought here in the Southland. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I hear a Gene Kelly song calling my name…

Problems at Socal Approach

What on earth is going on at Socal Approach these days? It seems every time I fly, they find a new way to confuse, infuriate, or disappoint me. Sometimes all three.

It really pains me to say that, because my cousin was an air traffic controller and I have the utmost respect for ATC. Hell, when I was a kid, I used to hang out at Anchorage Center’s facility on Elmendorf AFB. It’s not easy controlling traffic in the Los Angeles area. They are beset with personnel shortages, a plethora of trainees, a dysfunctional relationship with FAA management, and high levels of traffic.

I try to help them out as much as possible. Speaking clearly, eliminating excess verbiage, being patient when they’re busy. But a guy can only take so much, and in my experience Socal makes more mistakes now than they ever have.

Just the other day I launched out of SNA on an instrument flight plan. My clearance was to depart the airport and fly heading 220 for radar vectors to the Seal Beach VORTAC. This is the standard boilerplate clearance when departing John Wayne Airport under IFR, and something I’ve done a thousand times.

I’m not two miles from the field before they start yelling at me for not following the Orange departure. This is a head scratcher, because the Orange departure is a VFR procedure.

As soon as I explained that I was IFR, not VFR, I received five different squawk codes in the space of 4 minutes. As if this wasn’t enough, I was then handed off to Los Angeles Center while at 2000 feet MSL and less than 10 miles from the airport!

I am not making this up.

I questioned the handoff and got yelled at for doing so. OK, I shouldn’t have phrased it the way I did (“Is the TRACON being evacuated?”), but still. I would have asked for a phone number, but things were so screwed up on their end I wasn’t sure whose number to ask for. I was basically “lost com” while talking to ATC via a functioning radio.

Eventually I got in touch with the proper Socal controller, who yelled at me for not being on the frequency sooner.

Now I try not to fly angry, so I forced myself to let it go. But in retrospect, that might not have been the best thing to do. Something was very wrong down in San Diego, and I could have forced someone there to deal with it. Imagine if this had been a freshly minted IFR pilot on his first flight in the system. Or someone who wasn’t familiar enough with the area to know that they should be talking to Socal on 127.2, not Los Angeles Center.

It sounds like I’m really down on ATC, but I do realize they have their own challenges. Socal is the busiest TRACON in the world. As I noted, personnel shortages are a big problem for them right now due to high numbers of retirements, and it’s clear there are a lot of trainees working the scopes these days.

I’m not sure the towers are any better. A friend works as a tower controller at LAX, and said the quality of the new people working the cab there is “scary”.

This experience has reinforced something I teach all my students: trust but verify. Because regardless of whether you’re flying under visual or instrument flight rules, when all is said and done, the only person you can count on up there is yourself. So expect the unexpected and don’t let a controller bully you. If something smells bad, question it. Trust me, you’ll be doing yourself — and ATC — a favor.

From what I can see, it’s going to get worse before it gets better. If you want a controller’s perspective on this, I recommend Get the Flick, a blog written by a recently retired controller and safety representative from Atlanta ARTCC.

Charts: Are They Required?

If I had a “frequently asked questions” list for glass panels, the first question on the list would probably be: “is it legal to fly with electronic charts alone (ie. no paper on board)?”. Without exception, every person I’ve flown with in an Entegra or G1000 equipped aircraft has made this inquiry.

My response has always been that while it’s not a wise idea to fly without paper since an electrical component failure could render your whole charting system inoperative, from a legal standpoint, electronic charts are acceptable as a substitute. Get caught above the stratus without your approach plates? If you have the electronic charts, go ahead and do the approach.

In fact, as far as I know there is no legal requirement to carry charts whatsoever. This applies to VFR and IFR under Part 91. And from a practical standpoint, it doesn’t make sense that there would be. There are aircraft out there — my Pitts S-2B is one of them — which literally don’t have any room for a chart. No room to unfold it, store it, keep it secure during hard aerobatics, etc. Sure, we use one during cross-country operations, but for acro flights? Who really has a chart readily accessible to the pilot in that scenario?

If there is an FAA regulation, case law, regional counsel legal opinion, advisory circular, directive, or other binding document which indicates otherwise, I’m not aware of it.

The only exception I can think of is on the Los Angeles terminal area chart on the Special Flight Rules panel which states “The following rules shall be adhered to while utilizing the Los Angeles Special Flight Rules Area:” and below that one of the requirements is “The pilot shall have a current Terminal Area Chart in the aircraft”.

Los Angeles terminal area chart excerpt

Beyond that, I just don’t see any regulation requiring charts. The closest thing would be 14 CFR 91.103:

Sec. 91.103 – Preflight action.

Each pilot in command shall, before beginning a flight, become familiar with all available information concerning that flight. This information must include –

(a) For a flight under IFR or a flight not in the vicinity of an airport, weather reports and forecasts, fuel requirements, alternatives available if the planned flight cannot be completed, and any known traffic delays of which the pilot in command has been advised by ATC;

(b) For any flight, runway lengths at airports of intended use, and the following takeoff and landing distance information

Anyway, I bring this up now because the FAA has issued Advisory Circular 91-78, Use of Class 1 or Class 2 Electronic Flight Bag (EFB), which basically confirms my thoughts on the matter. In summary, electronic charts are acceptable legal substitutes for paper charts, but carrying paper backup is recommended.

In other words, common sense. Which, when the government is involved, isn’t necessarily all that common.

The phrase “electronic flight bag” is probably not part of your lexicon, but it refers to a wide variety of panel mount and handheld electronic navigators. The Advisory Circular covers everything from the G1000 to a lowly black-and-while portable GPS and is, I believe, the first time the FAA has granted implicit admission of “non-IFR” receivers to the cockpit.

As always, the ultimate responsibility for ensuring receipt of the latest and most currently available information lies with the pilot. That much remains the same. But it’s refreshing to see that the FAA doesn’t care how you get the data as long as you get it.

Now the that door is open, I would love to see a parallel Circular to make sites like Weathermeister legal for official FAA weather briefings. Lord knows the data is infinitely cleaner and easier to interpret when viewed in such a manner. Alas, one step at a time…

Aviation Memorabilia

In lieu of Aviatrix’s recent post on navigation, I thought it might be worthwhile to post these World War II era approach plates.  We have a few mid-40s sectional charts of the west coast hanging on the walls at Sunrise — in mind condition, no less — but they’re behind glass and would be tough to scan.

I always find these artifacts fascinating to study.  These plates are not that different from what we use today.  Charted plan and elevation views of the approach procedure on the front, and textual descriptions on the back.  I guess the major difference is that the Washington, D.C. approach procedure uses the ancient four-course A/N audio navigation system.

 

 

I love historical aviation material.  Charts.  Logbooks.  Manuals.  Speaking of logbooks, Lesley has her grandfather’s aviation logbook.  He was a Naval aviator prior to World War II and completed primary flight training before the war. Unfortunately, there were no aircraft for him to fly, so after sitting around for a while he volunteered for the silent service and ended up commanding a submarine.

Someone who reads my site sent me a British constant speed prop manual (or “hydromatic airscrew” as it was called back then) from the mid-late 30s, complete with handwritten mechanics notes.  Seventy years later and the constant speed prop is essentially unchanged.  That really says something about the elegance and simplicity of the design, and is undoubtedly the reason the CS prop is considered to be one of the greatest inventions in aviation history.




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