Smooth flying is best defined by example. When sitting in the passenger cabin of an airliner approaching the destination, there are two ways to tell when the airplane begins the descent from cruise altitude. One is to experience that slight floating feeling in the stomach as the pilot pushes the yoke forward (or commands the autopilot to do so). The other is to realize that the sound of the slipstream whistling over the fuselage has changed to a higher pitch, meaning that the airplane's indicated airspeed is increasing because the airplane is descending.
The first scenario is an example of mechanical flying - push the nose down to make the airplane go down. The second is an example of smooth flying. It's the same as mechanical, but with the rough edges expertly filed off. The change from level cruise to nose-down descent is made so gradually that it is almost imperceptible to anyone in the airplane except the flight crew.
Smoothness isn't so much a specific set of procedural skills as it is a technical mindset. It flows first from self-confidence, from knowing that you are on top of the airplane and the situation. But it's not just about the pilot. Smoothness is also motivated by concern for passengers' well being and enjoyment.
Smooth flying begins on the ramp. The way we conduct ourselves during the preflight (carefully and deliberately versus helter-skelter), how we organize in the cockpit, and how we communicate with passengers say a lot about our penchant for being a smooth, confident pilot.
Put yourself in the right seat of a light airplane next to a pilot whom you have just met for the first time. What are you to think when the engine starts and immediately spools up to a screaming 1,500 or 2,000 rpm, rocking the wings and blowing away anything behind the airplane not tied down?
Taxiing to the active runway, the airplane bucks and wallows around turns as the pilot mashes and releases the brakes without reducing the throttle. The takeoff is characterized by a near-instantaneous application of full power, and the nose is pointed way high in the climb. This pilot lacks any visceral feel for the airplane and cares nothing for the passenger's experience.
Contrast that with knowing just where to set the throttle so that the engine powers up to an ideal 800- to 1,000-rpm idle on start-up; making the drive to the runway with perfect coordination of steering, power, and brakes; and on takeoff smoothly pushing the throttle, not jamming it, to the stop.
In flight, smoothness is achieved by making control inputs gradually instead of abruptly. Also, the fewer inputs needed to accomplish an objective, the better. For example, it's preferable to gradually reduce climb rate when approaching cruise altitude rather than maintaining a steady climb right up to the target altitude, then abruptly nosing over to level flight.
Once at cruise altitude, maintain climb power until the airplane accelerates to cruise speed, then reduce to cruise power and trim settings. If you reduce power immediately upon reaching cruise altitude, you'll be chasing the final power and trim settings for a long time until the airplane finally stabilizes.
In the earlier example, the mechanical pilot arrives at the descent point and abruptly pushes on the yoke, sending passengers' stomachs lurching for their throats. The smooth pilot anticipates the descent by a few miles or minutes and pushes on the yoke ever so gently, or maybe just eases back on the power and nudges the trim nose-down. It takes a bit longer before the airplane is descending at the desired rate, but the transition is glass smooth and far more pleasant.
It's a good bet that the smooth pilot also will plan to descend at a slower rate - 250 feet per minute instead of 500 fpm, for example. Slower-rate descents save passengers the discomfort of the steeper nose-down attitude, higher noise level, and constant ear-popping that come with quick descents.
A smooth pilot anticipates how the airplane will react to a specific control input or change in configuration, and he makes an appropriate adjustment to mask the reaction. One of the airplanes I fly reacts to flap extension by sticking its nose up and ballooning. Passengers definitely notice, and I couldn't blame them if they began to wonder who is truly in command, the airplane or me.
The last thing I want is for a passenger to lose confidence in me as a pilot. So whenever I select flaps down, I anticipate the nose-up ballooning by gently pushing on the yoke to maintain a level attitude and altitude.
A smooth, seamless transition from one attitude to another, from one configuration to a different configuration, from one phase of flight to the next, is the standard we should set for ourselves. It may not sound terribly exciting to suppress the yanking and banking that is at the heart of flying's romantic appeal, but gleefully whipping a Cessna 172 or Piper Warrior around cottony clouds suspended in a brilliant blue sky is a notion best left to the advertising copywriters. Just ask the nauseous, greenish-colored passenger who has suffered through a jarring, uncomfortable flight at the hands of a mechanical, rough pilot.
Mark Twombly is a writer and editor who has been flying for 35 years. He is co-owner of a Piper Twin Comanche and recently obtained his commercial multiengine rating.
