Take the phenomenon of hydroplaning. Its something Id read about for years: dynamic, reverted rubber, or viscous. I knew lots of fancy terms for the problem and could quote the details from memory. It never made much of an impression on me until I experienced that no-brakes feeling as we were rolling out after landing an airliner on Runway 5R at Mexico City.
It was early evening; the dinnertime thunderstorms had come and gone, leaving the runway wet with puddles. Our MD-80 was heavy for this landing, and we planned for a touchdown speed of about 140 knots. Normally, we use reverse thrust to slow us down until we reach approximately 100 kt, when we begin braking (which is most effective at lower speeds). As we decelerated through 100 kt I began to apply the brakes and found, to my complete surprise, that there was nothing happening under my feet - no stopping force of any kind. The harder I pushed, the more alarmed I became, until I realized that this was not going to be the solution to the problem.
I briefly considered redeploying the thrust reversers (which we try not to use below 60 kt because of the possibility of foreign object damage or FOD ingestion) but finally, I began to sense some slow deceleration as the last 2,000 feet of runway passed beneath me. I turned off at the end of the 12,500-foot runway still shaking my head and wondering - what the devil? Several days later the answer came to me: Hydroplaning, thats what I'd experienced on that Sunday evening in Mexico City. I'd read numerous articles and seen several training films on the subject, but nothing could duplicate the real-life sensation of trying to stop an airplane with virtually no braking ability and all of its terrifying ramifications. Now I realize that my real learning had taken place when there was some experience to go along with the book learning. And those puddles that I'd seen on the runway were there because the surface wasn't grooved like most runways in the United States. Hence, we had the perfect setup for a classic case of hydroplaning.
Good judgment can be acquired in numerous ways. Experience certainly helps, as my hydroplaning hangar tale illustrates, but there are many ways to supplement the school of hard knocks, allowing you to accumulate the wisdom you�ll need to operate safely in an airplane. We've all discovered that reading and fact-gathering can help us to establish a basis on which to judge our experiences. But so much of our research is just that - until we witness a situation that sharpens our focus and puts the information into the proper context. Every flight, no matter how routine it may seem, should be analyzed, to help you focus on some of those little things that can help you on future flights.
Consider adding a mental or verbal post-flight item to your shutdown checklist: Briefly review the flight and ask yourself, "Just what did I get for those Hobbs hours I paid for?" You'll find that the assessment will help you to identify and better understand the good and the bad points of your flight, and you can call upon this knowledge for future judgment calls. Use your flights with other pilots to supplement your own well-learned lessons. Some of those experiences were enough to teach me to never fly with that pilot again! And how about those scary in-flights events that gave you the shakes just moments later and made you promise you'd never repeat if you got out of there alive? Write it down in your List of Rules to Fly By and then read them every six months to remind yourself of what good judgment is all about.
Learning how to deal with thunderstorms and in-flight icing rank high on my list of nerve-wracking experiences that produced some memorable learning for me. While building time in the mid-1970s, I ran a weekend ground school teaching pilots how to pass their FAA knowledge exams. My partner and I bought a Beech N35 Bonanza and used it to fly from our home base in Tulsa, Oklahoma, to a different class site each weekend. As most of the seminars were held in the West, we traversed the Rocky Mountains often, beginning in February 1975. Having had little experience with ice, I found our brief encounters with the white stuff to be alarming, and I was glad to have an experienced pilot in the right seat to answer questions and help me formulate alternative strategies.
Each time the outside air temperature probe on N9457Y began to look like a half-melted Popsicle, my partner would start asking me what my plan was and how was I going to get rid of the stuff. It was never an option to carry on status quo, as ice rarely gets better - just more deadly. I was learning to plan for a way out.
The first time I saw the windshield opaque with ice I was horrified to see my partner make a fist with his hand and pound the Plexiglas as hard as he could. Afraid that he might break the windshield, I yelled at him, "Stop!" He laughed and told me that no one had the strength to damage the tough plastic, although we could easily scratch it with abrasive cleaners or dirty cleaning rags. He showed me how you could break up the ice with several well-placed blows applied sideways to the surface with a clenched fist. Thus, when all else failed you could carve yourself a small spot to see the runway ahead if you found yourself approaching an airport with a surface temperature below freezing (and you couldn't depend on shedding the ice prior to landing).
Another technique that got my attention was the flexing of the propeller to rid it of accumulated ice. Like the sock-it-to-me solution for the windscreen, I'd never experienced the horrible shuddering and shaking of an out-of-balance, ice-laden prop when it was unable to rid itself of the excess weight and drag as the ice accumulated. I learned that a quick cycling of the prop lever from high to low rpm and quickly back to cruise or climb setting could rid the prop of ice and return the airplane to a semblance of normalcy. Needless to say, I'm not recommending any of these procedures, but I do understand that all pilots occasionally get themselves into tight situations. When all else fails, it's comforting to have a few of these homegrown solutions in your bag of tricks.
When I first got my instrument rating, I used to look for clouds to fly into. After all, logging real cloud time was the name of the game, and every tenth of an hour in that "Actual IFR" column was documented experience. I now have a better idea of what's actually inside those clouds, having spent many hours watching weather radar to find ways around them. When flying a nonradar-equipped GA aircraft, I use my experience to X-ray those clouds with my eyes and say to myself, "Nope, that one looks like the bumpy kind - like those on the scope with the yellow and red centers. It's time to ask Center for a vector around it."
Remember how your instructor used to badger you to land on the centerline throughout your primary training? Well, I learned my lesson one evening when those thunderstorms we've been talking about got to be a bit too much. We were returning from another weekend ground school class, somewhere in the upper Midwest, and we found ourselves stymied by a wall of weather. A quick check of the sectional chart showed Salina, Kansas, to be the closest airport.
Flight Service gave us the latest weather and winds, so I landed the Bonanza exactly on the centerline. As we decelerated my partner looked left and said, "What the hell was that?" We taxied back to take a look and found a large wooden sawhorse sitting about 15 feet off the centerline of Runway 35. Fortunately, I'd taken his nagging to heart and had landed exactly on the centerline, avoiding the obstacle by about three feet. If I had landed slightly left of the centerline, the airplane almost certainly would have been damaged. Another lesson well learned.
Flying with other pilots is probably one of the best teachers. Even if they aren't instructors and don't volunteer information about what they are doing and thinking, you'll learn by watching and imagining what you'd do differently. If you're flying with someone who's got a lot more experience than you, don't be afraid to ask her why she chose the course of action she did. Phrase your question with the I-want-to-learn attitude. Every pilot I know is happy to share their experiences with others - after all, that's what hangar flying is all about.
Learning the decision-making process, a part of acquiring good judgment, is a gradual experience that evolves slowly and steadily. Each new piece of information combines with the old to make it more meaningful. Remember my story about the hydroplaning? There's a good example. And the learning didn't even come at the time of the experience - it took a few days to gel, after looking back at it. No doubt you've all had similar experiences that only made sense after you dissected them several days, weeks, or even month later. The important thing is to keep learning and adding to your data bank. I've found that the more I know about one area of aviation, the more I can attribute my understanding to having had some prior experience which taught me how to deal with the current situation.
Don't be lulled into the me-too syndrome. During one of my flights into New York's La Guardia Airport one windy day, I had to remind myself that independent assessment is a key to aviation safety. All the other airplanes were accepting visual approaches to Runway 31 with the wind from 120 degrees at 12 kt. Our max tailwind component is 10 kt, and when I voiced my concern, the tower gave me a delay vector so he could land the next airplane, following three miles behind us. Soon the sky was full of airplanes flying delay vectors while they changed runways. Once one pilot declined the approach, the rest of the pack wisely chose to follow suit. We all need a nudge now and then to remind us that the decision-making process needs constant refining and re-evaluating.
Make up your own mind based on the data at hand. Blindly following a course of action because that's what the other guy did is no excuse for stupidity. If you don't like what you see, change your plan to one that's more comfortable for you, including reversing course or canceling the flight. Always have multiple alternatives. If the situation changes, see if another course of action is necessary to accommodate the changes.
Experience is said to be the best teacher, but no one ever said it has to be your experience. Pilots are fortunate in that they enjoy talking about flying and can relive each and event to gain some knowledge and improve their judging standards. The stores I've mentioned are just a sample of some incidents that taught me more about aviation than all the articles and books combined. They are ones that are indelibly etched in my memory and bubble back up to the surface each time a similar situation starts to occur. I've got my own set of rules to fly by, and I hope that you've already started writing down yours.
You'll find that your own judgment and experience work well to deal with most problems. If in doubt, ask for help - there's lots of it available to you, as close as a phone call to the flight service station, your local instructor, or an aviation safety counselor. Be proactive - ask those questions and you'll soon acquire the same wisdom to pass on to others. Your judgment will improve each time you critically access all your alternatives, recognize your own limitations, prioritize those alternatives, learn to say no when necessary, and put to good use my favorite saying, "Learn from the mistakes of others; you'll never live long enough to make them all yourself."
Karen Kahn is a captain for a major U.S. airline and author of the book Flight Guide for Success - Tips and Tactics for the Aspiring Airline Pilot. Type-rated in the MD-80 and Lockheed JetStar, she's an FAA aviation safety counselor who holds ATP and Gold Seal flight instructor certificates. Kahn is rated in gliders, seaplanes, and helicopters. Visit her Web site.
Related Articles
