Search Results for: Lear 45

There’s plenty of information on the operating limitations of an airplane. A VG diagram (in some applications called a VN diagram) shows many things including stalling speed, maneuvering speed, maximum allowable speed, maximum indicated airspeed in rough air and maximum allowable G loading, both positive and negative. Operate within the parameters of the VG diagram […]

Most pilots never need to eke maximum range out of the airplane. For others long-range flying is the norm, the reason for having an airplane in the first place. There are many considerations-some objective, some subjective-when youre planning a maximum-range flight. Lets define maximum-range flying as any flight planned to travel near the maximum distance the airplane can fly with the fuel on board, and have legal fuel reserves. When we think of max-range flying in light airplanes were usually thinking about a flight of three to seven hours, depending on characteristics of the specific airplane. If you take off with minimal fuel but are planning to use most of what youve got, however, even a short flight entails some maximum-range thinking.

Since so much emphasis is placed on approaches during the typical instrument students training, its unsurprising practicing the takeoff into IMC receives little attention. Thats more than a little unfortunate, since the instrument takeoff-especially the zero-zero takeoff-can be much riskier. For our purposes here, well define the instrument takeoff as one in which the aircraft will be in IMC before reaching the lowest altitude specified for crossing the final approach fix of a published procedure for that airport. Well define a zero-zero takeoff as one where the aircraft enters IMC before reaching DH or MDA on a related approach. Often, of course, the zero-zero takeoff is just that: The crew can see neither the end of the runway nor a definite ceiling, and must transition to instruments when the wheels leave the runway. The challenges posed by either procedure arent immediately obvious to those who havent experienced them, which is another reason for greater attention during initial instrument training. Takeoffs are always a busy part of any flight, arguably more so than landings. The aircraft is accelerating, for one, and gathering energy that must be dissipated before stopping if theres a problem. Too, panel gauges, especially mechanical gyros, behave in ways further complicating instrument flight when they are accelerated from a standing stop to climb speed in a few seconds. Various procedures necessary during a takeoff and departure-raising the gear and flaps, for example, or setting power-can wreak havoc with a pilots concentration and the aircrafts trimmed attitude. And it is during the initial climb in IMC when any errors in setting the aircrafts configuration are discovered, at exactly the wrong time for something to be done about it.

What is there left to say about the Cessna Skylane? You’d think not much. After all, it’s an airplane that’s been in production (with one decade-long break in production from the mid-80s to the mid-90s) since 1956. During that time Cessna has built more than 20,000 Skylanes, making it one of the most popular models […]

It was a routine flight in every way. A University of North Dakota flight instructor took off from Grand Forks, North Dakota, at 5:45 p.m. with a private pilot who was in the university’s commercial/instrument flight program, for a three-leg, cross-country night flight in a twin-engine Piper PA-44-180 Seminole. It was a clear night with […]

The airplane experienced an in-flight breakup during an uncontrolled descent at about 1054 Pacific time. The airplane was destroyed during the breakup sequence and post-impact ground fire. The private pilot and passenger were killed. Visual conditions prevailed; the flight was operating on an IFR clearance.

Up until about 10 years ago, I was a typical private pilot. Id built up about 1000 hours over 30 years of flying and even managed to add an instrument rating after about four false starts and uncounted times passing the written. I flew as much as 150 hours a year and as little as 10 years between flights. But I kept the passion, the interest, and continued vowing that someday Id actually fly as much as I wanted. Does this story sound familiar? It probably describes a great number of us. Stuff happens. Finances, work, family and other recreational pursuits-life-all get in the way. Yet, somehow, we find a way to keep flying, if perhaps not as much as we might like and certainly not as much as we should. This can create some interesting currency challenges. Consider an all-too-common scenario. A typical instrument-rated private pilot mentioned above finds theres a thin layer between cruise altitude and the destination. Our bold pilot tries to recall all his recent instrument operations and concludes that legal currency is, well, past. Continuing a bit further looking for a hole in the layer, he finally concludes there isnt one. The layer began about 50 miles back and fuel projections raise concern about making the additional 100-mile round trip to get under the layer. Now what? Well, in defense of our friend, the forecast didnt call for the overcast, so this isnt a clear lack of planning. Its not uncommon to fly above a layer and find it has disappeared as you near your destination. Of course, the opposite is true as well. Obviously, there was an opportunity to prevent this problem by simply ducking under the layer when it appeared. But, that raises the whole specter of scud-running for 50 miles-a notorious killer of pilots and destroyer of airplanes. None of this helps the present situation, though, of being on top of a solid layer, not being instrument-current and not having enough fuel to comfortably get under it.

I doubt I ever flew higher than 4500 feet while earning my private pilot certificate. I remember 9000 feet as “high-altitude flying” when working on my instrument rating. Perhaps it was a function of the training environment, or a result of piloting low-powered airplanes. I think more likely it is expediency and the “little-plane” mindset that causes most training to be done at lower altitudes. Which begs the question: Are there any advantages to flying higher up, and if so, how should pilots plan for higher-altitude flight? Many pilots have found theres a “sweet spot” for cross-country flying, above the general crowd but below the realm of turbine airplanes, where traffic is scarce but the advantages are many. This is flight in the mid-teens (of altitude), which Ill define as anything from about 12,000 feet to 17,500 feet MSL. Here youll avoid much of weathers worst, enjoy almost-certain direct-to routing and overfly the majority of “ATC required” airspace. What are the advantages of flying between 12,000 and 18,000 feet? Probably the biggest one is youll usually find clear air. I find the mid-teens to be especially advantageous when flying in areas of forecast thunderstorms-usually youll be above the general haziness and murk abounding on the muggy days that promote thunderstorm development, allowing you to see and maneuver around the big build-ups from dozens of miles away. Mid-teen flying often puts you in less turbulent air than the skies down below, and the airs much cooler, improving pilot and passenger comfort. Its much less stressful to cruise in VMC, so mid-teen flying can reduce fatigue and workload. Be careful, however, to avoid overflying weather thats outside the certified capability of your airplane, or that youre not equipped or experienced enough to handle if an engine or instrument malfunction forces you to descend from your planned cruising altitude (see the sidebar, “Unplanned Descent,” on page 14).

From Day One of our flight training, maneuvers practice fills much of our hours of dual instruction: turns around a point and such, unusual attitudes and recovery from them, and that most-basic skill from putting together all the control elements, flying pattern work. In aircraft so equipped, most of us learn to use the turn gyro when practicing maneuvering flight, striving to master the standard-rate, two-minute turn depicted by our little friend. But as we learn later in actual flying, that training also instilled flexibility and the skill to adapt maneuvers to the conditions. Among the best of all flexibilities is the ability to maneuver beyond our standards-both beyond the standard-rate turn and past the point where turns become steep. At times it seems that too few of us practice to maintain competence at the higher demands of flight beyond 30 degrees of bank. Thankfully, with a bit of caution and common sense, steep turns are skills we can practice on our own or, even better, with the security and added safety of an instructor or safety pilot. The payoff can be a lifesaver. Steep-turn skill holds significant real-world application in everyday flying, whether for something as potentially dangerous as trying to escape from a dead-end canyon or the more routine need to complete a non-precision instrument approach by circling while remaining within sight of the runway. With a little regular practice, a pilot should be ready to safely, sanely fly steep turns up to and including the most demanding of such unusual maneuvers: the 60-degree bank, 360-degree turn, all while holding altitude within 50 feet, plus or minus, of our entry altitude. Acknowledging that such circumstances when we need that skill should be relatively rare only heightens the need to regularly hone your real-world steep-turns skills. And should we never actually need to, a great sense of self-satisfaction comes from bumping through ones own wake.