Pilotage

Which is better - a simple fixed-gear, fixed-pitch-prop single, or one with retractable gear and constant-speed prop? It's a flawed question. Instead of asking you to compare apples, the question asks which is better, an apple or an apple pie. A simple single is great for training, recreation, and limited transportation use, while a complex single serves more of a utility role. The answer to the question "which airplane is better" is whichever one better fulfills the mission.

If, however, you equate bigger, more powerful, and more expensive with better (all of you driving those massive new sport utility vehicles, take a step forward), then the answer is apparent.

Forget better for a moment, and think difficult. Most people consider a complex airplane more difficult to fly than a simple fixed-gear single. The addition of a propeller control and landing gear switch means there are more systems to learn, more for the pilot to do in the cockpit, more instruments and gauges to monitor, and longer checklists to consult. But does that mean a complex airplane is more difficult to fly?

I think not. I'd use the word different rather than difficult. A pilot skilled at flying a complex airplane doesn't necessarily move effortlessly into a simple one. If you're used to complexity - raising the gear on takeoff and adjusting manifold pressure and propeller rpm to climb settings - the simplicity of taking off in a fixed-pitch, fixed-gear airplane and then doing…nothing…can be confusing, at least initially.

It doesn't take long for the pilot of a complex airplane to transition into a simple one, or vice versa. The real learning has to do with recognizing the subtleties of flying one type or the other. In my mind, the main factors accounting for the differences in the way a simple airplane is flown compared to a complex one are not retractable gear and constant-speed prop, but weight and performance. In most cases, a simple airplane has less of each, and it makes all the difference.

I made the switch from complex to simple when I bought my Cessna 172. Looking back through my logbook, I see that for the four years before I bought the Cessna, I flew complex, high-performance singles and twins almost exclusively. Most of the flights were long cross-country trips in pursuit of stories. My logbook entries reflect business activities - who I traveled to see or interview, the weather, my passenger: "Simcom." "Lt/mod ice, mixed." "w/MAS and Stan Powell to Data-Matic."

Then, suddenly, the notes take on a different flavor. Beginning in May 1993, I began to go to a lot of pancake breakfasts and $100 hamburger lunches, seek out small airports and grass fields, and take friends and neighbors up to show them the tops of their houses.

The nature of my flying changed whenever I flew the Cessna. Early on, I remember feeling frustrated by the Cessna's lack of horsepower and weight, compared to the Bonanza I also was flying. I was used to climbing above the haze and turbulence and low-level clouds, and cruising nearly three times faster than the cars on the expressway.

I had come to appreciate the benefits of substantial weight in an airplane - stability, greater resistance to the effects of gusty turbulence, and inertia. I learned to use the Bonanza's considerable power and weight as tools to achieve, for example, stable approaches and smooth touchdowns. It didn't take me long to realize that those tools were smaller and much less effective in the Cessna.

Low performance meant that I climbed and cruised a lot slower, so I flew lower. In the summer I slogged through hazy, humid air with reduced visibility and thermally induced turbulence. So I learned to avoid afternoon flights when those rising shafts of hot air sprouted towering cumulus like dandelions popping up in a vacant lot. Reduced visibility wasn't an issue in the clear air that swept in behind winter cold fronts, but headwinds certainly were. The same winter headwind that lopped off about one-quarter of the Bonanza's no-wind groundspeed took a debilitating 40 percent out of the Cessna.

But perhaps the biggest mental adjustment had to do with landings. I found the Cessna to be an entirely different animal on landing than most of the complex singles I had flown. For one, the gear is always hanging out there, contributing drag. In a retractable-gear airplane, you at least have a choice on when to extend the gear and add that drag. The gear serves as an additional speed- and descent-control tool to use in combination with power and flaps.

Also, the Cessna's low weight and relatively light wing loading meant that it was more vulnerable to the effects of crosswinds, gusts, and turbulence on approach and landing. In a heavier airplane you can fly by the numbers and be reasonably assured of consistent approaches and touchdowns. In the Cessna, a rock-solid approach can disintegrate into a clumsy flare and multiple touchdowns simply because a gust or two blow across the runway at an inopportune time.

I grew frustrated over the fact that this simple airplane could, at times, be more complex than I had anticipated. I made my peace with the Cessna when I realized that it required a different set of skills to fly precisely. The Cessna was neither easier nor more difficult to fly than the Bonanza, just different.