Rite of passage

I’ve done turbine pilot initial training, recurrent training, flight reviews, and instrument proficiency checks using both the real McCoy and simulators. When I earned my type rating in the Cessna Citation Mustang, it was with Azma FLT Inc., based at Orlando’s Executive Airport. Ditto my first annual pilot-in-command proficiency check, to comply with FAR 61.58’s provisions. Both of those courses were great learning experiences. But this year I thought I’d go back to FlightSafety International (FSI) for that company’s three-day FAR 61.58 course.

Some consider FSI to be the gold standard in pilot and maintenance-technician training. The company has learning centers at 40 different sites around the world; offers training in more than 20 different manufacturers’ aircraft (including courses for 28 different Cessna Citation types alone); has an ab initio FlightSafety Academy at the Vero Beach, Florida, airport; and operates a division that designs and manufactures the company’s simulators. For the Mustang, courses are offered at FSI’s learning centers in Orlando, Wichita, and Farnborough, in the United Kingdom. I picked Orlando.

It’s amazing how much we can forget after a year’s worth of flying. That’s because things rarely go wrong, and we seldom practice responding to dire situations. It’s also amazing how much can be remembered once the first of the course’s three, four-hour ground school sessions begin.

The first day began with instructor Andrew Forgacs, who hit on a number of items worthy of mention. One had to do with the Mustang’s battery disconnect switch, located behind the pilot’s left elbow. It uses a solenoid that can drain the battery. Don’t use it to secure the airplane after landing, Forgacs said. Instead, disconnect the battery (it’s in the tailcone baggage compartment) manually. The battery disconnect switch is used as a last resort to disengage a stuck engine start relay, should the starter-disengage switch fail to work. It also can help to prevent a battery from overtemping.

It’s amazing how much we can forget after a year’s worth of flying. That’s because things rarely go wrong, and we seldom practice responding to dire situations.Here are some other items: In order for the autopilot to fully function, both attitude and heading reference systems (AHRSs) must be operating, so that pitch references can be compared. Lose one AHRS, and the airplane can’t fly in reduced vertical separation minimum (RVSM) airspace. Forgacs also brought up the use of the rotary annunciator test switch in flight. In short, try to avoid it. Test the cabin altitude alert, and pressurization could be disabled. Test the antiskid and it will shut off as part of a self-test cycle. In flight, you can safely check only the engine fire warning lights or the annunciator test lights.

You say you lost the Garmin G1000’s multifunction display (MFD) screen? You’ll still have the autopilot, but the Nexrad or traffic display—if it was on in the first place—will default to the insert map, and the flight plan display will go the primary flight display’s timer/ref screen.

In the rare event of a dual generator failure, the emergency standby instruments will be powered for only 30 minutes. That’s with the battery switch in the Emergency (EMER) position. Leave the battery switch in the normal (BATT) position and you’ll have a completely dark panel after a mere 10 minutes.

Speaking of dark, the first two-hour simulator session featured night operations around Memphis International Airport. There were ILS approaches, an RNAV GPS approach, and a no-flap landing. Because the Mustang simulator has the highest, Level D approvals, all takeoffs, landings, and other maneuvers can be logged, and each “flight” counted as a real one. That’s how faithful the FSI simulator is to the actual airplane’s behavior—right into ground effect. The visual display is equally impressive, with day, night, and dusk capabilities.

Day two featured instructor Ken Bettam, who showed off the visual system once again. This time, the simulator had us at Wichita’s Dwight D. Eisenhower National Airport, and the weather was low (500 OVC, visibility half a mile) and cold (2 degrees Celsius). There were several V1 cuts, a simulated engine fire, a duct overheat, a fuel imbalance, and a trip to the Salina, Kansas, Regional Airport—where it was 300 OVC and one mile visibility—followed by engine-out landings from ILS Runway 35 approaches.

After taking off to return to Denver, the skies miraculously cleared—but Bettam, doing his best ATC impression, announced that flocks of birds were spotted in the area.Day three was the “high-altitude” day, with a takeoff from Denver International Airport via the Denver 8 departure procedure to Colorado Springs Municipal Airport. A bad vector sent us toward high terrain, complete with TAWS warnings, and two ILS approaches to Colorado Springs’ Runway 17L followed.

The first approach involved an exciting wind shear encounter on short final, and a missed approach and hold. The second was less eventful, but on the subsequent takeoff—right after gear retraction—I got a crew alerting system (CAS) message: HYD PRESS LO.

Resetting the hydraulic pump circuit breaker did nothing to correct the problem, so now the drill was to pull it and leave it pulled; use the nitrogen blow-down bottle to extend the landing gear; then use the manual emergency brake handle to stop the airplane after landing. It takes a smooth, steady pull to both preserve the emergency brake’s nitrogen pressure and prevent the tires from skidding, as there is no antiskid. And no differential braking, either.

After taking off to return to Denver, the skies miraculously cleared—but Bettam, doing his best ATC impression, announced that flocks of birds were spotted in the area.

Shortly thereafter, one engine quit, then the other. It was a case of bird-induced double-engine flameout. And there was no time for a restart, as Colorado Springs was nearby.

It turns out the Mustang is a pretty good glider. The checklist says to maintain VREF—the green circle on the G1000’s airspeed tape—for best performance. Sure enough, I made the runway, and even had to circle to lose some extra altitude.

By now I’d logged six hours in the simulator and 12 hours of ground school. I’d flown all the maneuvers required for the initial type rating checkride—and then some—and Bettam endorsed my logbook sticker. I’m good for another year, and I have the virtual equivalent of a fresh instrument proficiency check, a flight review, AOPA’s annual flight review, and some more precious jet time.

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