Aviation Safety

At 0937 Eastern time the airplane crashed into a residential area and was substantially damaged. Visual conditions prevailed; the solo private pilot received serious injuries. About 10 miles from his departure airport, the engine started running rough, and the pilot turned back to the airport. While on short final, the engine stopped and he made a forced landing in the backyard of a private residence. Post-crash examination of the engine revealed the No. 1 and No. 2 connecting rods were broken and came through the top of the aft section of the engine case and the No. 5 piston had failed.

At about 1950 Mountain time the two airplanes collided in flight over the approach end of runway 34 at the McCall Municipal Airport. Both airplanes were destroyed in the collision, uncontrolled descent and post-crash fire. Of the four occupants aboard one airplane, the private pilot and two passengers were killed; the third passenger received serious injuries. The commercial pilot and passenger aboard the other airplane sustained minor injuries. Both airplanes were ending cross-country flights; visual meteorological conditions prevailed.

This was the first flight after removing the motor glider from storage and reassembling it. During initial climb, the glider started rolling left despite the pilots control inputs. He aborted the takeoff and landed straight ahead while attempting to maintain control of the powered glider. However, the left wing struck the ground and the glider began to cartwheel. The glider was substantially damaged and its pilot seriously injured.

The airplane impacted terrain and was destroyed at approximately 1545 Mountain time following a partial loss of engine power. The private pilot was fatally injured and the passenger sustained serious injuries. Instrument conditions were reported by the passenger. In a statement, the passenger reported the airplane was cruising at 16,000 feet msl and entered clouds containing light snow. Thereafter, the airplane would not maintain altitude and its engine began to sputter. The passenger recalls that the pilot stated that they were experiencing a “mixture problem.” The passenger stated the airplane would “nose over” as the pilot attempted to control it. The airplane impacted a mountain at 10,400 feet msl.

Its nearing dusk as two Piper Senecas descend toward Highfuelprices Regional Airport on vectors for the VOR approach. Published minimums are 500 and 1. The airport has weather reporting and forecasting, the airplanes have the same avionics. Seneca A is being flown by a pilot with commercial, instrument and multi-engine ratings and a current Part 135 approval; the flight is being operated under Part 135 as there is a five-pound box of urgent documents under the cargo net behind the rear seats. Meanwhile, Seneca B is being flown by a pilot with commercial, instrument and multi-engine ratings, a 23-month-old flight review and some question as to whether he is instrument-current. It is a Part 91 flight. There are four passengers on board who are splitting the cost of the flight with the pilot. Before they reach the final approach fix, the controller advises both aircraft that the airport weather is now 400 overcast and mile visibility in rain and mist. Seneca A pilot advises the controller she cannot continue the approach and that shed like to climb 1000 feet or so and hold at the FAF while she decides whether to go to her alternate or wait for the weather to improve. The pilot of Seneca B hears the weather report and continues with the approach because he wants to take a look.

It happens every summer. Temperatures rise and with them so does density altitude. It may seem we should simply avoid flying when the density altitude (DA) creeps up, but this would be very short-sighted-although there are some hazards warranting a delay when the air heats up (thunderstorms and desert turbulence among them), the fact is we can safely fly in most high-density-altitude conditions. Doing it, however, requires some technique and some compromise. We all learned the basics of density altitude when we first learned to fly. But what are the practical techniques necessary to maximize airplane-and pilot-performance when hot and high? And when do we need to employ them? What is high density altitude? Its really a function of the airplanes capabilities…and those of the pilot. Youll find Piper Cubs and Cessna 150s flying out of Leadville, Colo., (elevation 9927 feet msl), yet hear of DA-related accidents involving much more powerful airplanes at much lower altitudes. Air density increases to “high” levels in summers heat, even at relatively low-altitude airports. When you consider that maximum available power drops by about 10 percent for every 3000 feet of density altitude increase above sea level (in naturally aspirated engines), even flat-land flyers need to compensate for power lost due to high DA in summer.

We all have had a life experience or two in which we “should have known” about the results of a decision and could kick ourselves for not heeding our instincts. When it comes to flying safely, the need to follow those internal alarms is all the more important. For example, there is a big difference between instrument flying where we need to faithfully heed the data on the panel in spite of our inner ear sensations and the attention we should pay to our “sixth sense” of self-preservation when we get hints from the aircraft systems that something isnt right. We often fly with other pilots and, depending on our role in the cockpit, we may notice more or less about the aircraft or environment. When a system offers up a hint, we analyze it and take some action, but do we take enough action or give enough credence to our sixth sense of feelings about the potential impact on the flight? Can that inner warning be “waived off” by a casual remark from the other pilot or a controller? Lets look at some instances and examples.

Theres no way the FAA can come up with a regulation covering every possible scenario, which is a good thing. If they did, wed rarely be able to roll our airplanes out of their hangars except on the clearest of days when no airliners were about. So, the FARs set certain minimum standards for pilots and once we determine were in compliance, its up to us to decide if the proposed operation is safe, morally acceptable and non-fattening. Or something like that. Frequently what we want to do complies with both the FARs letter and spirit. Sometimes its borderline; certainly legal but safe only if everything goes our way and nothing on the airplane breaks. And then, there are occasions when the proposed operation is both legal but really not smart.

Way back in the bad old days when I had just a few hundred hours of flight time, I recall how I would get quite obnoxious during my preflight preparations. (Of course, some say I still am, regardless of when I might be flying next, but thats only because I know what they dont.) The challenge of herding all the cats necessary for a safe departure sometimes made for brusque conversation with me. Get over it. These days, Im more laid back before departing, at least outwardly. Im still running through a mental checklist, though, and trying to make sure everything gets done in a logical order. Ive also come to grips with what was driving my concerns: a misplaced belief that filing for, say, a noon departure meant advancing the throttle no later than 11:59. No exceptions. So, I readily understand how anxious some pilots can get when preparing to depart. Add in various external challenges from business and personal lives, passengers who need to be at the destination by a certain time and the peer pressure of other airplanes coming and going seemingly without problems, and the physical and mental effort of actually flying an airplane can seem like a vacation.

Comanche seven-three Papa, Wichita approach; winds two-zero-zero degrees at one-eight, gusts to 30.” “Approach, seven-three Pop; copy the winds…guess well keep up the pace a bit.” “Comanche Seven-Three Papa, Dorothy says, Welcome to Kansas.” When first sitting down to assemble this article, my initial thoughts turned to my logbook. Inside it are more than a few notations about such not-unusual days; the controllers welcome in this one made me chuckle. At almost the same instant, the sound of 30-knot gusts rattling the trees outside my office focused my attention on the days local conditions-an environment offering abundant signs that any flying means dealing with gusts. My familiarity with gusty conditions started developing during my primary training. A regular part of my time-building solo practice involved August afternoons hopping among five Wichita-area fields. Typically, those hot summer days and nights brought winds blowing hard, in the teens to low 20s, and usually gusty-as much as 20 knots above the mean. For much of that month gusty winds served up a significant challenge for a student pilot armed only with a Cherokee 140 and determination. Hey, its Kansas.