To Alaska by Seaplane
I really enjoyed Dave Hirschman’s article about flying up to Alaska (“To Alaska by Seaplane,” February 2024 AOPA Pilot). It hit home for me. I flew F–16s out of Eielson Air Force Base (PAEI) for Red Flag [an aerial combat training exercise], and years later flew C–130s out of Elmendorf (PAED) again for Red Flag. I am also a UPS Boeing 747 pilot based in Anchorage. I’ve toured small parts of the wilderness and glaciers in Alaska in a prop plane. I’ve sat and watched the airplanes take off from Ted Stevens (PANC), and the floatplanes land at Lake Hood (PALH) many times. Alaska truly is an aviation paradise, with some of the most breathtaking views I have seen in all the world. If you ever need a co-pilot let me know!
Elias Hildreth
Duluth, Minnesota
Gulf Shores, Alabama
I enjoyed the “Briefing” article in AOPA Pilot (May 2024) on Gulf Shores, Alabama’s Jack Edwards National Airport (JKA). I should tell you that the only FBO currently in operation is Gulf Air Center. Salt Air and Platinum Air have been closed for well over a year, perhaps over two years. This is correctly shown in your Airport Directory.
Describing the former Navy Canal Field, now JKA, as a reliever for Naval Air Station Pensacola does not give those air strips their due respect. Canal Field and several additional Baldwin County Alabama airfields were designated then, and now, as outlying landing fields (OLF). They provided primary instruction for thousands of new naval aviators. I can remember my flying wishes forming as I watched T–28s and T–34s in steady streams doing touch and goes and initial carrier training, soaring over my head all day long as I worked at my father’s business on the Intercostal Canal right under the pattern. I also remember watching the airplanes doing initial dog fight training high over my head. The stuff that makes a young guy dream.
Donald Lawrenz
Lillian, Alabama
Failure Is an Option
I found Catherine Cavagnaro’s article “Failure Is an Option” (April 2024 AOPA Pilot) thought provoking. I’m writing to add to it an account of two failures that I experienced in G3X-equipped airplanes, neither of which falls neatly into the categories laid out in the article.
The first occurred in a Jabiru J230–D, an SLSA equipped with a G3X as the sole display for flight instruments. The line replaceable units in the system included an engine interface, a remote com and transponder, a magnetometer, and two autopilot servos. While taxiing for takeoff at Flagstaff Pulliam Airport (FLG), a single red “X” appeared on the display, rapidly followed by a cascade of others until there were no functional instruments of any kind, including attitude, airspeed, and altitude. Control over the com radio and the transponder was also lost. Happily, still on the ground, I was able to use a handheld to contact ground control and get clearance to taxi back to parking, where the airplane was placed in the hands of the local repair shop. There it sat for several weeks while the shop and Garmin worked the problem. I find the cause to be quite instructive and a little chilling. A single LRU, the GEA 24 engine interface, had a failure that caused it to saturate the CAN bus with bad packets, which made the bus unusable. In this architecture, every LRU communicates over the CAN bus. If that bus is taken down, the entire system goes down with it.
It is interesting to speculate how such a failure would play out in IMC in an airplane equipped with a backup G5 PFD. The G5 is of course another LRU on the same CAN bus, and I don’t know how it would behave. Would it also become full of red Xs? Quite possibly it would, and the avionics bus would need to be powered down, allowing the G5 to do its job on battery power. I just don’t know, and I’m not confident that this scenario would have a happy outcome.
The second failure occurred in an F33A Bonanza, equipped in a similar fashion to Catherine’s Niky: G3X, GTN 750Xi, G5 backup PFD as the most important LRUs. The airplane had just come out of annual, and I was taking it up for a post-maintenance flight in VFR conditions. While taxiing for takeoff, the heading was behaving oddly, with big deviations to left and right, accompanied by a couple of warning messages on the G3X. I thought I would just continue with the flight to ensure that the airplane was otherwise fit to fly on an upcoming trip. I assumed that the unreliable heading information would still allow me to navigate with the GPS, and I considered the possibility of taking the upcoming (VFR) trip relying on GPS, with the magnetic compass for legality. To my surprise, the GPS was completely unusable, displaying false position and track information. Any thought of taking the trip evaporated instantly. The cause turned out to be the replacement of a fuel hose that ran near the magnetometer in the wing tip. The original hose was rubber, while the replacement looked identical but had a braided steel interior. I salute the mechanic that found the problem!
So, this is another case where the failure of a single LRU, the GMU 22 magnetometer, crippled the system so severely that navigating in an IFR environment would be at best challenging and certainly confusing initially. Keeping the airplane under control wouldn’t be a problem, but navigating certainly would. Time to use that iPad or ask for vectors.
Tim Axelrod
Bandon, Oregon
Once in a Lifetime
In the April edition there was a story about the solar eclipse (“Once in a Lifetime,” April 2024 AOPA Pilot). It reminded me of my experience with a solar eclipse in March 1970. I was flying F–8 Crusaders in VF-111, based at the Naval Air Facility, Andrews Air Force Base in Camp Springs, Maryland. My drill weekend was coming up when I read in the newspaper that a full solar eclipse of the sun was scheduled for that Saturday. The eclipse would only be partial in the Washington area but would be full farther to the east.
My wingman, Bill Davis, and I were scheduled for instrument training, but I suggested to him that we do some eclipse reconnaissance. We took off, climbed up to 18,000 feet, and headed south toward the South Carolina line. It was a nice sunny day as we proceeded on our way.
Down around the North Carolina/South Carolina border we started to notice something ahead that resembled a storm cloud that rose high into the sky. As we got closer, we began to see more darkness. However, when we looked out to the side of our route it was still a nice sunny day. We were soon flying in the dark, but we could see lights in structures on the ground—we were night flying, but the sunny day was still in plain view off in the distance. We circled and made some turns to stay in the darkness as it was moving to the northeast. The dark center was about 50 miles in diameter, and when we maneuvered away it became more like dusk or dawn. We followed the eclipse north as it entered Virginia and moved northeast heading out to sea.
Jack “Jet” Jennings
Irvington, Virginia
Home Airport
I enjoyed Ian J. Twombly’s article about establishing grass strips (“Home Airport,” April 2024 AOPA Pilot). Here are a few things that were not mentioned in the article that I think would be helpful to anyone considering this venture: Meet your neighbors and talk to them about your plans. Most think you’re building Chicago O’Hare next door when you mention building an airport, so this is your chance to put their mind at ease. Perhaps offer them a ride in your aircraft.
File form 7480-1 with the FAA as soon as you decide to build a runway. There is no time limit to complete your runway, but that form will provide some safeguards; you need only provide an estimated completion date.
Chart your runway. This goes hand in hand with keeping your neighbors happy. Neighbors move, die, or subdivide their properties. If you chart your runway, there are no surprises for “new” neighbors with having an airfield nearby. It’s good to chart in case there are changes in airspace. For example, Nashville International Airport (BNA) expanded its Class C airspace last year, and with the help of AOPA, we were successful in raising the base of that airspace above our runway from 2,100 feet to 2,400 feet. We had a say at the table because our runway was charted.
Karl Richcreek
Lebanon, Tennessee
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