Needles centered and locked
Your passengers watch you preflight. Though most nonpilot passengers don't know enough about flying to determine whether you've hit everything on the checklist, by taking into account subtle cues such as your attitude they construct their own sense of how the flight will unfold. Once you get airborne, the stage is set. From watching airplanes crash in the movies, nonpilots may believe that the needles flop around like fish on a dock when the situation is about to get out of control. If your instrument panel looks like an early morning wharf scene when you're supposedly in straight-and-level cruise, you too may be subtly eroding passenger confidence.
To add to this, air traffic control knows little about you aside from your N number when you first check in. The line your aircraft cuts on the radar screen tells the controller something more. Can you level off at an altitude, or do you overshoot every time? Does light turbulence throw you off less than 100 feet, or send you into the IFR traffic on the next level up? Can you hold a heading, or does the controller have to wonder if your gyro is slaved to a transistor radio? Here's a reality check for you: How often do you hear controllers ask you to "say altitude"?
As pilots, we're typically at our best just before a checkride. Now, because we're human, the actual checkride may not take the best snapshot of our skills. But going into one, we strive to be razor sharp. And we need to be, in order to meet the practical test standards for the rating we desire.
However, our skills deteriorate after we pass the test. As assistant principal operations inspector for the Denver FAA Flight Standards District Office, Tom Forchtner sees this often in the revalidation — or 709 — rides he gives for the FSDO. "People just don't stay proficient. Nothing ever happens in cruise, going from point A to point B," says Forchtner.
How long has it been since you took that checkride? If it was for your private certificate, you were required to hold altitudes within 100 feet, headings within 10 degrees, and airspeeds within 10 knots — or less, depending on the maneuver. As an airline transport pilot, you must fly to even stricter tolerances, straying no farther than 5 kt from the target airspeed while keeping the needles within two dots of center on ILS approaches.
In fact, we think of ATPs as some of the most precise pilots out there. So what allows these pilots to fly so precisely after the checkride is over? Truthfully, autopilots and flight management systems (FMSs). In fact, these systems are used throughout checkrides in the airline environment, because hand-flying the airplane leaves the pilot more open to error. "No one is going to expose themselves like that on a checkride," says Danny Burns, Boeing 747-400 standards captain for United Airlines. "Hand-flying has taken a backseat to autoflight." During low instrument conditions, pilots are often required to leave the autopilot on. "Category I precision approaches are about the only ones [pilots are] allowed to hand-fly," says Burns. And some of the new aircraft, such as the Airbus A320, have autoland functions that will not allow the pilot to disengage the autopilot below 50 feet on approach — the options left to the pilot are to go around on autopilot or land on autopilot.
Yet, there is a lot of satisfaction in handling an airplane well in challenging situations. "You could see the pride," says Burns about past training episodes in the older aircraft sims, such as the 747-100 on which he used to train pilots before United retired these models in favor of the newer 400s. During climbs to an altitude, for example, Burns recognized those who took pride in flying the airplane precisely by "how close they would get before leveling off at an altitude. For some guys, 40 feet was close enough before hitting the altitude hold," says Burns. The precise fliers did a better job of capturing the altitude so that the hands on the altimeter stopped squarely on a given flight level.
You can pattern your flight management style after the pros, even without the fancy cockpit. Use any autopilot system you have, even if it's just a wing leveler or electric trim, to keep your workload even. Most IFR-equipped airplanes have some form of autopilot. In singles, you're likely to find a two-axis autopilot with altitude and heading-hold functions — or a nav-capture function if you're lucky. When flying single-pilot on long cross-countries, it's a challenge to stay focused on holding a precise heading and altitude without drifting off, especially if the air's not smooth. There's no shame in letting George handle some of the work, allowing you to rest up for the times when your sharp skills are needed, say, on an approach. But use the autopilot well — make it a game to capture the altitude you're cleared to right on the nose by understanding the lead time inherent in the system. If the autopilot on your airplane has a nav function, play around with it in VFR conditions — with a safety pilot, perhaps, to look for traffic — so that you understand how the system captures and tracks a course from the VOR or GPS receiver. (For more autopilot tips, see " Out of the Pattern: Applied Avionics," April 2002 Pilot.)
But it also pays to stay sharp by hand-flying — as the airline instructor pilots have discovered. "They found people were losing their hand-flying skills," says Burns, because of the reliance on autopilots. John Hogan, Boeing 737-800 standards coordinator and check airman for another major airline, also notes that his company is "emphasizing hand-flying skills again," as raw-data skills tend to deteriorate with reliance on automated systems. "When I'm doing an IOE [initial operating experience] in the actual airplane, it's strongly recommended not to turn on the autopilot until 18,000 feet," says Hogan. You can also follow this approach: As you fly cross-country, use the autopilot in cruise, but switch it off from time to time and practice the basics. It seems academic to hold 3,500 feet instead of 3,600 feet, but settling for less than the proper altitude sets the scene for other excursions from the planned flight. For those without a slaved horizontal situation indicator, figure out a way to remember to periodically reset the heading indicator (HI) — either through a timer on the panel or within a GPS unit, or swing the HI at the same time you switch tanks. It's amazing how the dial can get a few degrees off and cause a snowball of confusion as you try to determine your course against a mysterious new wind aloft.
The best hand-flying comes from a solid foundation: controlling altitude and airspeed with power and pitch. Chuck Hanratty, flight operations training manager for Alaska Airlines' Boeing 737 fleet, found this to be the case when teaching primary and instrument students as well as when upgrading ATPs. The school at which he originally taught used simulators for attitude instrument training, and Hanratty gave his students combinations of particular attitudes and power settings for various configurations and performance requirements. "As the student was mastering those, we gradually developed the scan. Lo and behold, altitude control became automatic! Airspeed control, the same! When we would transition these students to the actual airplane, the flying was a piece of cake." Hanratty says that the skills make flying precisely — such as on an instrument approach — that much easier. "The key to success on an ILS (or any approach to a runway, visual or instrument) is strict airspeed and rate of descent. And this is accomplished best by the attitude of the airplane (in a particular configuration) along with a power setting."
Hogan suggests another plan for disciplined flying: the 5/50/5 approach. "Try to stay within 5 degrees of heading, and keep altitude within 50 feet, and airspeed within 5 kt." Airspeed is often a factor in the equation that GA pilots miss. Without airspeed control, you don't control performance. Keep a sharp eye on groundspeed as well. "It can tell you about turn radius, and for course intercepts, what kind of lead radial to use," says Hogan. Take 10 percent of your groundspeed and add or subtract it from the course you are intercepting. For example, if you're intercepting a 180-degree course from the east, and tracking over the ground at 120 kt, begin your rollout at roughly 168 degrees. Hogan also notes that the elementary rule of using 10 percent of the vertical speed as a lead altitude for level-offs is a sound one. If you're climbing at 500 fpm, begin your level-off at 50 feet before your target altitude for a smooth transition.
As for blowing through an altitude, even the pros do it. The Aviation Safety Reporting System (ASRS) — the blue "NASA" forms familiar to pilots with a mistake to fess up to — has an entire archive of reports, "Altitude Deviations," from airline crews and GA pilots alike who busted altitudes and wanted to tell their side of the story. Common reasons for failing to level off at the right time? Traffic advisories, from both ATC and traffic alert and collision avoidance systems (TCAS), cause pilots to shift their focus from the climb or descent, as do other cockpit distractions, such as punching a new fix into the FMS or GPS. Also, confusion as to which aircraft is cleared to what altitude can lead to a crew misinterpreting an altitude clearance.
Do you think that these sources of error for airline crews are the only ones that affect you in your low-tech cockpit? Hardly. Problems come as simple as a pilot's tendency to turn the airplane subtly in the direction he or she is looking. So, if ATC calls traffic at 2 o'clock and you look over to scan the sky to the right of the airplane, you may send the airplane off course by a few degrees if your hand is on the controls.
Also, multiple tasks can make a single pilot quite busy. Climbs and descents are often coupled with heading changes or new routings, and trying to descend and level off at the proper altitude while dialing a new fix into a GPS challenges even the most ambidextrous. If you can use an autopilot in these situations, do so. Or, slow your climb or descent — within reason — to give you more time to change course and lock on the new altitude. You may be able to fly a rough heading to a new fix while you change altitude, then reprogram the navigation system when you're stabilized at the new altitude.
A disciplined flight deck — yours included — can make use of airline-style call-outs to manage altitude changes. "When climbing to, or descending to, an assigned altitude, our procedure at Alaska is to have the pilot flying call out 1,000 feet prior to the assigned altitude," says Hanratty. You can mimic this style, even in a single-pilot cockpit, by calling out, for example, "Passing 7,000 for 8,000."
Sometimes we just plain forget the altitude assigned, or we hear another aircraft's altitude and take it for our own. Don't be bashful about asking ATC for a clarification. There are several tricks for remembering a cleared altitude, as well. In some aircraft, the ADF receiver becomes a quick reminder — when not in use for navigation; you can turn the card so that the heading equals your cleared altitude in hundreds of feet (i.e., dial "030" for a 3,000-foot clearance). Sporty's Pilot Shop also sells an altitude reminder box that can be affixed to the panel for easy reference ( www.sportys.com).
The smooth track you make on the radar screen won't be your only reward. There's pride, too, in handling a flight precisely.
E-mail the author at [email protected].
Putting It Into Practice
Pilots are from Mars, controllers are from Baltimore
So we've come a long way from being creatures resembling ring-tailed lemurs on the African continent. The prehensile tails are gone. We have stereoscopic vision, upright mobility, and pilot certificates. We even know how to operate Velcro and GPS receivers. But let's face it, ATC thinks an ape is behind the controls.
I always admired zillion-hour airline pilots who fly small airplanes on their days off — fun-seekers who trade a fly-by-the-book 737 for a seat-of-the-pants Super Decathlon and somehow overcome the tendency to flare at 50 feet. While I may not be able to directly compare push-button with stick-and-rudder flying, what I can do is take an old Piper Archer through Baltimore, Maryland, airspace and see if I can streak — er, putter — across the radar screens as cleanly as the big iron. Helping me along is a simple two-axis Century 2000 autopilot, slaved to the VOR.
I would agree that autopilots dramatically reduce pilot workload when used properly, especially after the September 11 terrorist attacks turned the Baltimore/Washington, D.C., area into a minefield of potential flight violations. With somebody — or something else, I should say — helping with the flying, I see details I hadn't noticed before along the Chesapeake Bay when the weather wasn't so clear or I was too busy simultaneously flying the airplane, looking for an Airbus creeping through the clouds, and assembling an Ikea coffee table. Where'd that tiny island come from? And that housing development? Wow, look at all the boats.
But in its current setup, this particular autopilot is as wild as a nutria rat on Maryland's Eastern Shore when it encounters turbulence, sending the aircraft arcing toward the heavens at, well, OK, 100 to 200 fpm. Also, it's occasionally off by as much as two dots on the VOR display. Gee, I can do better than that. I don't get upset that easily, do I? Although this autopilot requires some management or maybe some adjustment by a mechanic, the long haul is where it really helps out. I know I'm getting tired when the heading wanders from south to north, and there's nothing like hitting a few buttons and saying: "Box, make me happy."
Without any way of preselecting the altitude it makes it real easy to surprise the primates monitoring the radar screens if you let the airplane climb too far. I can't use the old ADF trick either. This particular Archer has a unique IFR setup, one VOR that also provides localizer/glideslope information and a UPS Aviation Technologies stack with a GPS receiver and a really cool moving map. I instead rely on memory and pen and paper for the assigned altitudes. It wouldn't be a bad idea to use the call-out method or have your flying companion, perhaps a nonpilot, do the honors. Reading the altimeter, besides holding the charts, might make them feel more in tune with the flight even if all they really care about are the crab cakes in Ocean City, Maryland.
But is too much of a good thing damaging? When I drive I use cruise control to keep me from getting speeding tickets on short trips and from getting fatigued on long ones. The same could be said for autopilots. I don't think the average general aviation pilot has to worry about completely losing hand-flying skills since I've never flown an aircraft with an "autoland" function. For somebody raised on fabric gliders and weed whacker-powered airplanes, I'd put a saddle on a cruise missile and ride it through a redwood forest rather than rely on rogue electrons.
Julie Boatman told the truth mainly. There is a tendency to let the skills atrophy over time in the absence of structure. I like the 5/50/5 plan. As tool-using primates, we have the ability to improve if we want to. Why not tighten things up? Why not become better pilots than the FAA ever dreamed? As is the case in instrument flying — and life in general: Make small corrections sooner rather than big corrections later. — Nathan A. Ferguson
E-mail the author at [email protected].
