Proficient Pilot

When I was first hired as a co-pilot by TWA in 1964, one of our simulator instructors emphasized the importance of flying smoothly. “We should make every effort,” I recall him saying, “to manipulate the controls in a way that prevents our passengers from feeling what we are doing with the airplane; if someone can physically sense attitude changes or control, you are not doing it right.”

That did not really sink in until I had the great pleasure of flying a number of Boeing 707 cargo flights with Capt. Frank Timoshik. This was during the days when most pilots preferred to fly the airplane manually during climb and descent. It was more fun, and it was more challenging. Unlike today, the autopilot was seldom engaged below Flight Level 180. The only times that we shot coupled approaches were when our policy manual required us to do so.

Timoshik hand-flew the 707 as though he were at one with the airplane. To say that he was smooth would be an understatement. You seldom felt his maneuvering of the great machine; you only observed the results—not an easy chore in an airplane with such heavy controls. He had what many refer to as velvet hands, an ability to gently manipulate an airplane that I have been attempting to emulate ever since (whether or not passengers are aboard). It is as much an attitude as it is a skill.

This is not meant to imply that Timoshik never varied from an assigned altitude or heading. He was human, after all. It was the manner in which he corrected an error that was noteworthy. He would return to his target altitude or heading so smoothly that it could not be detected by someone not looking at the instrument panel.

This reminds me of a time in 1956 when a mentor of mine, Paul Blackman, was checking me out in his North American Navion. During cruise flight, the altimeter indicated a rock-solid 7,600 feet. Blackman gave me a gentle elbow to the ribs and said, “I’ll bet you can hold 7,500 feet just as well as you can 7,600.” He wasn’t being critical of my being slightly off altitude. What bothered him more was that I seemed willing to accept it. Precision is as important as smoothness.

An effective way to gain proficiency in smoothness is while practicing steep turns. Roll in and apply back-pressure in a way that would not be detectable to a passenger. Altitude, bank angle, and airspeed corrections during the turn should be made similarly. It is not as important to make corrections quickly as it is to recognize excursions and apply those corrections in a smooth and timely manner. Give yourself enough lead time to roll out and release back-pressure with similar finesse. If you inadvertently overshoot your target heading, smoothly and positively apply a correction in the other direction. With the exception of the obvious increase in load factor, nothing else should be felt during steep turns.

Many pilots use light turbulence as an excuse to yank and shove the control wheel. But in most cases, recovery from mild upsets also can and should be made smoothly. A pilot should not compound the effects of a bumpy ride with herky-jerky inputs to the flight controls.

Smoothness also applies on the ground. One of my pet peeves is when a taxiing pilot brakes to an abrupt halt, compressing the nosewheel strut and pitching the passengers forward in the process. With a little practice, a pilot can stop an airplane without anyone on board feeling it. It is a matter of learning to release the brakes somewhat as the airplane is about to stop, a technique that can be practiced in your automobile at every stop sign.

During takeoff, some pilots jerk their airplanes off the ground—not a great way to impress passengers. Liftoff is a process, not a mindless pull of the wheel. It begins by lightening the load on the nosewheel a few knots below VR so that at VR back-pressure continues smoothly and positively while allowing some acceleration. Fly the airplane off the ground; don’t pull it off.

Smooth landings are as much art as science. Most pilots strive for smooth touchdowns because they are a source of pride and favorably impress passengers. I have made landings that literally could not be felt (especially in the Lockheed L–1011). But under identical conditions I have reconnected with Earth in ways that registered with alarm at the Caltech Seismological Laboratory. Good luck, because that is often what it takes.

Barry Schiff flew for TWA for 34 years. His favorite jetliner was the Lockheed L–1011 TriStar.

Web: www.barryschiff.com