Letters

When I got my September issue a few days ago, I began to do what I usually do—give it a quick scan and place it on the dining room table until I pick it up again. That didn’t happen this time. When I got to page 18 of the magazine, something about Mike Ginter’s article title (“By the Book,” September 2024 AOPA Pilot) stopped me dead in my tracks. I’ve read it three times now, and each time it stirs a kaleidoscope of memories of an aviation career that began on June 28, 1967—the day that I soloed, or for those of us that came of age in the late sixties of Iron Butterfly, Dylan, and Steppenwolf, it was our magic carpet ride.

Hangar Talk

Director of Photography Chris Rose (left) took two trips to Alaska this year for two of this month’s feature stories (“Wings of the Iditarod” and “Disneyland for Pilots”) and had the pleasure of seeing the world’s busiest seaplane base, Lake Hood, in its two extremes. In March for the famous sled dog race, the seaplane base was covered with ice and snow, shrouding the aircraft and runways in an other-worldly ice kingdom. But even so, unlike other airports that in the winter seem to sleep, the base was a hive of activity, especially because of the Iditarod. Then in June, with mosquitos swarming and the sun staying out for 20 hours a day, the base presented itself differently. With videographer Josh Cochran, Rose explored the seaplane base and its gravel runway, remarking that the pace here doesn’t change even though the weather does. “This place just never slows down,” he said (see “Postcards: Lake Hood Seaplane Base”).

Like Ginter, I am a retired military aviator. Eight years as an Army aviator, which included a combat tour flying the AH–1G Cobra in Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos in 1970 and 1971, and another 20 years as a Coast Guard aviator/aviation safety officer flying the Sikorsky HH–52A Seaguard helicopter, the Dassault HU–25A “Guardian” jet, and the Northrop Grumman E–2C Hawkeye on loan from the Navy for counter drug operations. In my civilian life, I’ve had the privilege of flying a variety of aircraft, from the Cessna 150 to the Gulfstream G650.

As for checklists, I have used every kind, from paper to electronic. Although I am a big fan of all things electronic, I am equally a big fan of redundancy. That includes having a “hard copy” backup. I can’t begin to tally up the number of times a checklist has saved my bacon, and I would be lying if I said there was never a time when I’ve been distracted and missed a critical item on the checklist that left me with the uneasy feeling that something was just not right. I’m thankful most of us have learned to trust that little aviator in our brain that keeps screaming “you missed something!”

As I approach my seventy-sixth year, I’ve come to realize that perhaps my highest privilege occurred in the past 19 years, before I fully retired in 2020. Those years were spent training and checking some of the finest pilots that I’ve ever met. They came from the far reaches of this world of ours, and they all had one thing in common—they did everything “by the book.”

Ron Walters

Savannah, Georgia

Mike Ginter’s article reflecting the procedural way to escape the Earth’s gravity in an aircraft is exciting. I went through Army aviator training at Fort Rucker in 1986. After close to 40 years of flying, I still intentionally use the aircraft pilot’s operating handbook for flight planning and use the checklist for preflight, flight, and post flight. I often fly with new pilots and always emphasize that I use the POH and checklist. I am often asked why after all these years of flying do I use the POH and checklist. My simple reply is, “That’s why I have all these years.”

Mark York

Cumming, Georgia

Brilliant or Cruel?

Kollin Stagnito’s article (“Brilliant or Cruel?” October 2024 AOPA Pilot) reminded me of my primary training for my private pilot certificate. I trained in a Texas taildragger—a 150 converted to a taildragger with a bigger motor. I then transitioned to nosedraggers and flew them for several years, only to get the tailwheel bug again. I got my tailwheel endorsement in a Luscombe 8F. I have moved on to warbirds that I am privileged to fly today.

Starting your son in a tailwheel airplane is not only brilliant, but it will also make him a much better pilot.

Jake Ross

San Antonio, Texas

Rudder Shy

I just finished reading Barry Schiff’s article (“Rudder Shy,” September 2024 AOPA Pilot). I was a check captain for United on the Boeing 747-400 at the time of the incident. It was about as close to disaster as you could get.

I was tasked with giving the captain the required line check after the incident. He was a very proficient pilot, and I can only guess the reasons this occurred. I have flown three four-engine aircraft in my 37 years at United—never have I had an inboard engine fail during any training or checkrides.

I believe this incident occurred for two reasons: The insidious lack of awareness that they actually had an engine failure. They thought they had a gear problem. The other was the lack of skill on the part of the co-pilot flying. Prior to this incident, there was great emphasis on using automation, to the detriment of stick and rudder skills.

George W. Johnson

Seattle, Washington

Brass Tacks

I wanted to write a note of thanks for Brent Blue’s article (“Brass Tacks,” August 2024 AOPA Pilot). Thanks in particular for being candid about question 18x, the “other illness, disability, or surgery” section. As a (sometimes obnoxious) legal stickler, this section is the one I swallow hard about every six months—as in, I agonize over whether I really have to document something as little as the congestion that I had five months ago. Blue’s bluntly stated clarification that “this is not what the FAA needs” does help me out on a conscientious level. That said, I have reported plenty on my 8500-8 throughout the years, most recently being a broken arm and related surgeries.

Jonathan Tack

Linden, North Carolina

Living With Your Airplane

I am really enjoying the “Living With Your Airplane” series—I hope this becomes a regular feature. Residential airparks so uniquely contribute to the American culture, and your articles highlight this nicely. I hope you can illustrate some of the interesting ways pilots integrate hangars into their residences. There must be some incredible homes out there.

Patrick Carron

Wilton Manors, Florida

The Air That I Breathe

I’m so glad to see Bruce Landsberg write about oxygen (“The Air That I Breathe,” May 2024 AOPA Pilot). I agree with his comments that different folks need it at different altitudes. I’ve been using a medical system since the 1980s. When it became a controlled substance, it was just an annoyance to get tanks refilled or exchanged, but not enough to keep me from continuing the use of it. My primary care physician wrote a prescription that reads, “OK to use O2 at high elevations”—as though I’m going to walk up Pikes Peak. My Comanche loves cruising at 15,500 feet where it sips fuel, the air is smooth, and ground speed varies with the winds aloft. Oxygen levels are so often above most of the weather.

Mike Dolin

Gardner, Kansas

Erratum

The image used to depict Kawaihāpai Airfield, formerly known as Dillingham Airfield, in the "Action" section of October’s AOPA Pilot was inaccurate. The image shows Ford Island, formerly Ford Island Naval Air Station. We regret the error.

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