I have told my sometime employers of an aversion to flying on Sunday, maintaining as I do certain anachronistic delicacies on the article of keeping the sabbath. Yet we had three flights this weekend, and all of them on a Sunday, those that pay having a majority vote in the flight schedule. These flights are but toyish things to me, but they put the bread on my employers’ table so – keeping in mind the parable of the donkey in the neighbor’s well – flying we went.
Hot and dry, with a comfortable looking marine layer over the coast from Point Loma all the way to Dana Point it seemed. With no reference to the ground, it would be difficult to marshal ourselves for the intercept, not to mention keeping out of the o’er topping Class B airspace. If you can’t keep the sabbath holy, you should at least try to stay in the good graces of the FAA. If you want to keep your license. So having given the cooler coastal route the good old college try, we navigated inland to operate between Black Mountain and Lake Hodges.
Three flights, three briefs. Earl the Pearl gave the first to a couple of fellers from up Carlsbad way, mine a nice young sport with a quarter share in a Cessna 172 up at Palomar and his own shiny Bose X headset over which I drooled, a little. Thinking that when the time comes and I’ve got the scratch, I may go with the Lightspeed Zulus instead. (And belated props to an occasional reader who dropped a tip in the jar earmarked for that purpose, the last time I mentioned headsets.)
He’d a private license and a marked aversion to steep turns, 45 degrees angle of bank being the limit generally taught in the general aviation world. Putting on 2-3 g’s at 60 degrees angle of bank was as foreign to him as Pathan wedding rites are to me, and he insisted that we must necessarily stall and spin. Stuff and nonsense, said I, for I have both stalled and spun but never in a Varga Kachina and anyway it’s harder than it looks.
I always put non-flyers through a very gentle power-off stall to show them the docile habits of the Hershey Bar wings on the Varga. It’s like driving over a cattle guard, I’ll say – often to a blank faced reception from both-feet-on-the-ground city dwellers who have neither broken the surly bonds of earth nor driven over a cattle guard. Even the word “stall” seems to evoke within some of them a hidden dread, for reasons I can no longer comprehend if ever I did. Probably having to do with the storied fate of some benighted heathen who let the airspeed get away from him on final approach in the landing pattern. On Sunday.
But to stall is not necessarily to plummet from the sky, it is only to disrupt the smooth flow of air over the wing. You’re still flying – even turning – when stalled. Just not very efficiently. And it’s a trivial thing to recover from, so long as you’ve got a bit of altitude and the least presence of mind to use it.
Our second pair were from Topeka, Kansas, a nice young man and his nice young bride of not quite 24 hours. They’d only flown in from Topeka that morning, and this was to be her third flight. Ever. The flight from Kansas having been her second. He was all flashing smiles and reassurances, herself steadfastly attempting to be reassured, but it was clear to me that there was a mismatch in expectations between the young man and his tender belle.
I told him that she obviously cared for him, facing as she was this strange and dreadful thing with such obvious trepidation, and that maybe he’d owe her something nice when it was over. He pointed to the not insubstantial rock newly ringing the fourth digit of her left hand and intimated that she’d already gotten her pay-off.
Really, I almost pitied him at that moment. So very much to learn.
I should have saved my pity for a little longer, because an hour later she sat back on the couch in the briefing room, flushed, sweating profusely and trembling in every limb, inconsolable.
Thought to myself: Welcome to the life, my son, and you never really get done paying for that ring.
The third pair were a young couple from the local USAF ROTC unit, hizzoner at UCSD and herself at USD. When she walked in on crutches a wee slip of a thing, I thought to myself, no. This will never do. But she was insistent, it was nothing and anyway wasn’t it I that’d be on the rudder pedals?
An hour or so later I came to believe that she must have broken her foot in an ass-kicking contest, because she’d taken her young beau to the wood shed. Not much to say but that she’d had a good time, but there was a look of grim satisfaction on her face and a fey light in her eye that I recognized.
Are you sure, I asked, that we cannot talk you into naval aviation?
I truly hate flying. It is the thought of falling out the sky. Obviously I could never be a paratrooper either. Keep me on the maintenance end of the a/c and all is right with my world.
So I don’t speak for everyone about this thought of ‘stalling’ and why it brings such fear into some of us ‘non-pilots’, but only for myself and my own issues with that mode of transportation. Whenever I hear stall, not in reference to big huge jet engines, but smaller planes, I picture the pilot trying to start that sucker over and over and not succeeding, much like trying to get a lawn mower started and that no matter how many times you pull that chord, the motor just will not flippin’ crank. Perhaps it was some old movie from when I was a child. Who knows? But that’s my biggest thought when I hear, “stall/small aircraft”. It runs to my second thought, ‘Man, it surely would suck to die by falling out of the sky…”
Just remember that the small ones usually glide *very* well, so loss of thrust is not nearly as big a deal as it is to the large ones that need to go 160+ kts to stay in the air and spin the ram turbine for hydraulic power.
Did you ever notice that large aircraft, such as airliners, pull the power to idle and start down about a half hour before reaching their destination? That’s because they’re pretty darn good gliders and need time and distance to get down.
A 747 has a glide ratio of about 18 to 1, A Schweitzer 2-22 sailplane used to train glider pilots is 17 to 1, a Cessna 177RG like Lex flies on occasion is about 8 to 1, a Pitts aerobatic biplane is about 5 to 1.
I stand corrected, the 747 is not on my ticket. Thanks.
Tailspin/
In theory if you time it right you should never have to add power/adj throttle settings until you hit the runway. Only had that pretty much happen commercially one time flying into Indy once on Continental out of Denver on way to Louisville. The Capt was a big broad-shouldered tall red-headed ex-Navy type who–lol– wore cowboy boots with uniform–went up to congrat. him after we hit Louisville. Totally smooth.
Its usually not that falling that kills you but the rather abrupt landing that follows.
One of the best pilots in my first squadron said that all of the S3 stall recovery procedures could be summed up in one sentence — “Stop doing what you did to cause it.” Pretty close to true.
He was one of the jet guys sent over to un-screw the community after they learned that there was not a 100% successful transition rate by the Stoof dudes. Ex-Chippy, he was on the first strike over the North in ’72 (Operation Linebacker).
Yup. To John Q. Public, the word “stall” means “airplane falls out of sky, everyone becomes a smoking hole”.
It doesn’t help that the normal method of teaching stalls in GA stresses power-on stalls in level flight – which, for the average student in a Cessna, involves a relatively nose-high attitude. I think there are a lot of instructors who are bent on teaching the student pilot to just avoid stalling at all costs.
The irony being that for most GA aircraft, the real stall is relatively benign. Spins, too.
But I came in through the window, as it were…
Ah you pitied the young man from Topeka for having so very much to learn.
After the flight you should pity him again; if he’s lucky, he’ll be paying for that mishap throughout a long marriage; on the other hand, with that sort of start, his period of penance may be short.
Not a good way to introduce your girl to the wonders of flight. He’ll be lucky to get here near an AC smaller than a 737 in the future.
And Bou makes the point I was about to suggest: most folks think that a stall in an airplane means the same as it does in a car: the engine quits. And when a car’s engine quits you no longer can fly down the highway. So obviously when an airplane’s engine quits it too can no longer fly through the sky but fall out it. Add to the image the connection between stall and plummet instilled by the press. And complicate all this with the occasional story about a jet engine stall (of the compressor type), or witness accounts of the engine making popping sounds just before the crash (which it will at idle power and high RPM) and the unknowing are justified in the misapprehension.
But without using the word stall show them the bird will glide with the engine at idle, describe that it will do the same with then engine off just like a glider, and they feel better. Then describe how, if the airflow over the wing becomes turbulent, it still produces lift but less off it. If all tbis is done while gently slowing and pitching up, you’ll be prepared to show them how that turbulent flow actually can be seen because it makes the skin on the wing flutter a bit which can be felt in the seat of your pants. (It’s better seen in the fabric wing of a Travel Air, but still is visible in a Varga.). Finally, without any abrupt changes, smoothly transition to cruise and inform them that they just experienced a stall–exactly what you do every time you land (if you do it right). Nothing to be feared by passenger or student pilot (or for that matter, a CFI who panicked when I said I wanted to try some stalls in the aircraft I was checking out).
TS
I think most times the word “stall” in a news report of a crash relates to cross-control or skidded stall in the pattern. But that isn’t explained. Just “stalled and crashed”. It’s that uncoordinated flight thing that leads to stall initiation who knows where along the lifting surfaces. Bad news for all aboard.
Nothing mysterious about uncoordinated flight, I do every time I land in a biplane—lacking flaps I use a slip with sometimes full rudder and opposite aileron. Wing works just fine, no bad news at all.
Slow up in that configuration, cross controlled, and one wing will eventually produce more lift than the other and an incipient spin will result. But get the wing down with rudder (NOT aileron), reduce the angle of attack and add power, and you’re flying again. Even if you do that at low altitude with lots of sink and eventually hit the ground you’ll probably walk away. Do what comes natural when you have a windscreen full of dirt (yank back on the stick and try to level the wings with aileron) and bad news, will indeed, occur.
What may bother newbie pilots is not the stall / glide explanation so much as the stall/ spin scenario. New pilots are now taught to avoid stalls at all costs else they go into a spin and spin recovery is no longer taught to obtain a license. Once you do spin training and aerobatics it isn’t so daunting. New pilots are taught to avoid clouds for the same reason: (although there are FAA rules for cloud separation if not on IFR) lack of training can kill you there also. Once you get instrument traing they become just “water”.
Stalls and clouds are more benign once you experience the “unknown”.
Wilco/
Wasn’t aware that spin & recovery no longer taught, etc., but this “super safe” flying mantra has been a trend in American aviation with a long pedigree. Back in late 50s-early 60s when the F/RF-101 Voodoo was in the inventory (I think I’ve told this before in another context) the USAF was so afraid of its “vicious” spin characteristics that they put a stick shaker in and instructed at the first sign of vibration to decrease AOA and avoid stalls & spins at all cost. The Canadians, by contrast, who flew the same aircraft, checked out every newbie with full spin & recovery in very first familiarization ride–was part of the basic syllabus.
Tailspin- Yup, that’s pretty much it. You nailed it.
The thing is, I completely know better. I’ve taken all the classes, I know how it works, but dang, you mention stall and I see small plane and all reason is gone. I immediately think of something unrecoverable like… out of fuel or some horrible mechanical problem the pilot can’t do anything about. Seriously the stall/plummet vision is very very big at that point. So don’t even think of inducing a stall. *shudder* As irrational as that is…
And it’s a trivial thing to recover from, so long as you’ve got a bit of altitude and the least presence of mind to use it.
Says you. Trivial indeed – notsomuch to the white-knuckled among us.
As for the honeymooners – I think the bride needs to learn a thing or 2 as well. Such as how to train her new husband properly. Not all of you come fully trained and most of you don’t come with the owner’s manual. We brides must take you grooms in hand so that things like profuse sweat and limbs aquiver don’t happen … when they aren’t supposed to.
Not fully trained you say? Harumph! We are fully trained to scare girsl to death, or, at minimum, to make sure they don’t live a peaceable life. That’s why God invented frogs and ink wells. Airplanes are just a more advanced form these things.
Airborn types tell me there is no such thing as a perfectly good airplane. However, in my book any AC that is making normal power and is capable of controlled flight is a perfectly good AC and only a moron will jump out of such a thing.
My second date with “She who must be obeyed” was a flight from Oahu to Kauai courtesy of the Barbers Point flying club and yours truly. Turns out that was her third flight ever and came just a couple days after a truly harrowing flight over from the mainland on a 707. We’re still together 35 years later… I guess you dodge some bullets.
Lex and commenters: Thank you so much for the lovely stories and witty banter. You brought a smile and a number of giggles to this reader today.
Lex, you are a delight to read. I hear echo’s of Shakespeare and see head-nods in the direction of Tolkien.
v/r
…we navigated inland to operate between Black Mountain and Lake Hodges.
I was out this weekend, but I believe I’ve seen you flying over the Black Mountain area on previous occasions!
Of course, those of us who use the lexicon perpetuate the fear of stalls, to wit:
“Departure from controlled flight” (usually followed by “impacted the ground in an extreme nose-down attitude”)
Quartermaster said “However, in my book any AC that is making normal power and is capable of controlled flight is a perfectly good AC and only a moron will jump out of such a thing.”
I met my wife of 24+ years skydiving. We enjoyed it together until she, pregnant with our first, hung up her rig for good. I continued for many years after, interrupted by sea duty and the like. I did have to leave one aircraft prematurely after the engine ingested a piston. I recall the ground looking very close, but the pilot said “everybody out – NOW.” He seemed like he meant it.
From the sound of the AC CDR, it wasn’t making normal power, or capable of controlled flight. In that case, valor called for a quick exit. Just don’t forget the canopy as you leave.
There’s a a PBY at an Aviation Museum near the Anchorage Airport that used to belong to the Air Force. The story attache to the AC is that the crew was chasing wildlife (an unauthorized pursuit I would imagine) when a rod was thrown in one of the engines. For some reason the AF made the decision to abandon it and basically trashed the thing and left it. later the AF took bids on the AC, and someone, sensing a bargain, bid and won. When the winner went to the lake where the AC had been abandoned, they found every hydraulic line cut, along with the electrical system. They had bought an AC they would have to rebuild onsite, so they abandoned it as well. It was donated to the museum and it was sitting, rather the worse for the wear, outside a hanger with some other airplane junk.
They did have some other nice Amphibs and flying boats, though.
I wonder what maneuver the winner does in the Varga first. Seems like the advantage is gained right after the start of the competition and statistically, the winner must do something right, first, better or faster than the loser. When I fly, I want to make the right move first. Are pilots allowed to use the vertical or is this fight horizontal?
Want to win? Fly with Bronco. He cheats. (And has probably 1500 sorties under his belt)
Yes, you can use the vertical as long as you stay within plus/minus 30 degrees of pitch (and 60 degrees of bank; beyond that is considered aerobatic–which means 4 times the price and about the same fun unless you’re an experienced pilot).
I’ve seen lots of flights go from us (my guest pilot) being in deep doo-doo to a win ’cause our adversary tried too hard and scrubbed all his energy off pulling too hard.
Go high at the merge, keep the G on the aircraft especially in a low yo-yo (there’s a tendency to release the back pressure to get the nose down), and watch the hard deck. Lots and lots of dirt kills (at the 1500 foot hard deck). And watch out for women–they usually (but not always, as we see here) turn into merciless killers.
Tailspin/
LOL on the “watch out for women–they’re merciless killers” bit. Had an old New Orleans Police Detective tell me once that those old wives tales are true–that when they get really pissed, even if they’ve never touched a hand-gun before in their life, they can nail their guy dead-center from 30 yards even as he’s full-tilt boogie duckin’ and dodgin, ziggin’ and zaggin” down the alley. Infallible beginners luck. Do it EVERY time, he claimed. Never fails, sez he. “Never p.o a woman with access to a gun” is a hard and fast rule to live by–literally.
“Are you sure, I asked, that we cannot talk you into naval aviation?”
*lol* Takes a man of rare skill and experience to spot talent.
I do believe I spotted you out flying as I drove up through Dana Point and San Clemente on Sunday. I was looking for you, not realizing that it was Sunday and that you normally do not fly on the Sabbath. Moreso not realizing it was Sunday. Travel discombobulates me.
Not being a pilot nor an aviator, I have little to contribute to these discussions, my military flight experiences being limited to a few trips on P-3′s when attached as black shoe staff to the west coast reserve patrol wing out of Moffett Field back in the early 80s. Tailspin’s comment above of September 28th that “So obviously when an airplane’s engine quits it too can no longer fly through the sky but fall out it. Add to the image the connection between stall and plummet instilled by the press. And complicate all this with the occasional story about a jet engine stall (of the compressor type), or witness accounts of the engine making popping sounds just before the crash (which it will at idle power and high RPM) and the unknowing are justified in the misapprehension,” brought back a very grim memory.
Pre-Navy, in 1975, I was working as a logger on a S-64 skycrane show that used 150-foot long line to pull turns of logs in Washington State. I was setting chokers on logs out in a remote clearcut on the site of a mountain.
This was for a company that shall be nameless but whose name starts with an “E” and that uses a green and white color scheme. I saw one of those birds pre-positioned at Camarillo airport on fire surpression duties a couple of weeks ago.
Anyway, as I was saying, we generally got dropped off in the clearcut and picked up at the end of the day by either a Hiller 12E or a Bell Huey-Type. The cutters would build a place where a helo could put its skids as soon as they fell the trees immediately around it. Then they could be flown in and out of the clearcut on subsequent days. We chokersetters got there and back using the same method.
This particular evening, myself and, as I recall, four or five others were picked up by the Bell, to fly back to the log landing which was across a deep canyon a mile or so away. The company had stripped out the troop seats so we were sitting unsecured on the deck, as they were using it for external line loads which maxed out at around 3,000 pounds of timber, and they didn’t want any extra weight. The terrain was very steep, and I’d guess averaged about a 45 degree angle in the clearcut. We’d just gained about 100 feet of elevation and the pilot was about to turn away from the mountain side to fly over the tree line and the very deep canyon when there was a “boom” and the turbine started to unwind. After a few very long seconds–which seemed a life time– the command pilot flared and I felt a moment of slowing before we impacted the hillside in the logs and stumps. The Bell remained upright, and I did a very stupid thing, following another person out the up hill cabin door, thinking fire might result. I was fortunate not to get my head cut off by the main rotor. The worst anyone was hurt was a guy sitting crosslegged indian-style on the deck who sustained spinal compression injuries. The rest of us got whip-lash type problems. When I realized what was happening, I lay on the deck, but my head was up a bit when we hit and I had to get some adjustments by a chiropractor.
They used a sling to retrieve the destroyed Bell with the skycrane a few days later. I heard that the mishap investigation determined the cause of the flameout was fuel cell deterioration.
A few months later I quit the company and joined the Navy, staying for an enlisted career. Maybe that’s why I spend my Sundays preaching these days. Not to dwell on it, but we’d all surely have died if we’d gone down in the 150-foot tall timber surrounding the clearcut. Most of E’s pilots were army airmobile types who had flown the huey in Vietnam and probably had considerable flight time.