Real Pilot Experience

Not all flying hours are equal.

A fellow helicopter pilot and I often debate the merits of the current system of pilot experience building.

In the U.S., a pilot generally gets his (or her) private, commercial, and CFI ratings, often picking up an instrument rating along the way. He then spends the next 500 to 1000 hours as a flight instructor, teaching other people how to fly under the close supervision of a chief flight instructor. With the golden number of hours — 1,000, for most helicopter pilot jobs — logged, the pilot goes on to an entry level position in a company where he’s closely supervised by a chief pilot who calls all the shots. Through the logging of time in various aircraft, the pilot works his way up to better-paying, more challenging jobs.

Parked in an Orchard
My helicopter, parked beside a pond in an orchard, waiting for rain during cherry season.

My friend and I didn’t follow this typical career path. Instead, we learned to fly, bought our own helicopters, and started our own flying businesses, learning through more varied experiences in a much shorter time. We both worked closely with the FAA to get our Part 135 certificates and pass annual check rides and inspections. And we generally agree that the hours we’ve logged are “worth” more than those logged by a typical pilot on the typical career path.

Now I know that the mere idea that all logged hours are not the same will bother a bunch of readers who are pilots on that typical career path. So I’ve decided to provide a comparative list of experiences based on real-life pilots so you can objectively consider my argument.

I recently had the opportunity to fly with two relatively new helicopter pilots. And a year ago, I flew with another one. I spent more than 14 hours of flight time with all three of them. Here’s how their experience stacks up against mine.

ThemMe
All three of these guys had private, commercial, and certified flight instructor (CFI) endorsements. At least one also had an instrument rating and a CFII rating.I only went through Private and Commercial helicopter training. I never became a CFI and although I started work on an instrument rating back in the beginning of 2008, I haven’t finished it.
All three of these guys had right around 300 hours of flight time. The vast majority of that time was in Robinson R22 helicopters — although I think one of them might have had most of his training in Robinson R44s because of his size. (He wasn’t fat, but he was very tall and with height comes weight.) Virtually all of their flight time was built with a CFI in the seat beside them, flying within 50 miles of the airport where they learned to fly.I have about 2,100 hours of flight time these days, built in Robinson R22, Robinson R44, and Bell 206L helicopters, with a tiny bit of stick time in a Hughes 500 and a Bell 47. I’ve flown in nine states, including Arizona, New Mexico, California, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Oregon, Washington, and Idaho. I’ve flown over deserts, mountains, lakes, forests, canyons, and coastlines.
All three of these guys built their flight time in basic and more advanced training. That’s 300 hours of hovering, flying traffic patterns, practicing autorotations, and performing other textbook maneuvers to textbook standards. They flew mostly during the day in good weather, at or near sea level. When (or if) these guys get jobs as CFIs, they’ll build their next 700 hours of flight time sitting in a seat beside a variety of student pilots, handing the controls only until the student can perform basic maneuvers without assistance. Then they’ll keep the student pilot out of trouble by being ready to get on the controls while daydreaming about their next flying job — the one that might actually pay them enough money that they can afford to pay their rent.I built my flight time with about 200 hours of basic and advanced training followed by an enormous amount of cross-country flying — including far more solo flight time than the average pilot — and flights for hire. The for-hire flights include short rides, sightseeing tours, photo flights, aerial survey flights, video flights, air-taxi flights, wildlife survey flights, cattle spotting, and cherry drying. I’ve flown in perfectly clear daytime weather, under (and over) low clouds, around thunderstorms, through rain showers, and into the complete darkness of a remote desert night. I’ve landed on and off airports, from sea level to over 10,000 feet density altitude.
These guys have always flown under the close supervision of a CFI or chief flight instructor, following the rules laid down by their flight schools. Decision-making was likely limited to go/no go decisions that were likely based on conservative guidelines; in other words, if there’s a real go/no go decision to make, don’t go.About 1/4 of my flight time was flown under the close supervision of a CFI, chief flight instructor, or chief pilot. The rest of it was flown under my own supervision. I made all the decisions that needed making, from how much fuel to load and where to seat the passengers to what route to take and where to stop for fuel to how to find my way around the unforecasted thunderstorm in my path. And go/no go, of course.
All three of these guys are qualified to teach student pilots how to fly helicopters.I’m not.

What bothers me most is that limited experienced pilots are the ones teaching people how to fly. Then, after logging hour after hour of doing the same thing in the same basic conditions, they’re more qualified for a job than someone else with “better” experience but fewer hours.

Is there something wrong with this situation?

I’m not complaining about not being able to teach. I don’t want to. I like life far too much to put it into the hands of someone who doesn’t know how to fly. I just question the wisdom of using our least experienced certificated pilots to teach non-pilots how to fly.

Spraying with a Helicopter
An experienced agriculture pilot sprays wax on Apple trees from a JetRanger in Washington state.

When I was an 800-hour pilot, it bothered me that a typical 1,000-hour pilot on the typical career path was considered more experienced than I was. I was willing to prove that I was an as good — if not better — pilot than he was, but no one wanted to give me the opportunity. Sure, he can do autorotations better than I could — after all, he’d been doing them every day for much of his 1,000 hours of flight time. But how was he on off-airport landings? Planning cross-country flights? Landing at unfamiliar airports? Flying around or under or through weather? Managing power with a full load of full-sized passengers at high density altitude? Simply feeling the aircraft as an extension of his body that gave him the ability to fly?

That’s water under the bridge now. I’ve built my time and now qualify for a wide range of jobs. And if I get my CFI — which I expect to this winter — I could probably be a pretty good flight instructor.

But for now, I’ll just continue on my own career path. It may not be typical, but it’s challenging. And every flight offers the possibility of a real learning experience.

Arizona Storm Clouds Time-Lapse

So very cool to watch the clouds grow and move.

One shot every ten seconds, compiled at 30 frames per second.

The forecast called for a 30% chance of rain late in the day yesterday, so I thought I’d set up my time-lapse camera and capture the cloud build-up. This video starts at about 7:20 AM and ends at 7:30 PM, right when it had gotten dark. The first 25 seconds is a typical Arizona day — perfectly blue sky with nothing going on. Then some light clouds chase each other across the sky. Finally, the storm builds and moves in. This is one of my better efforts.

These shots were taken from just outside my front door with the camera pointing almost due north. And no, the cactus isn’t crooked. Its the wide angle lens distorting the shot.

Note to Self: Not Everyone Flies

I have to keep reminding myself because I do forget.

Yesterday afternoon, I sat down with the September 2009 issue of Flight Training magazine (because “a good pilot is always learning”), prepared to page through the mostly airplane-specific content for a few good tidbits that also applied to flying helicopters. I started with the “President’s Perspective” by new AOPA president Craig Fuller.

The fourth paragraph nearly knocked me off my seat:

Over the Independence Day holiday, I urged everyone to celebrate their freedom to fly by getting out and into the air, whether for a family vacation or a quick sightseeing expedition. I also urged certificated pilots to take a nonpilot for a ride to let them experience a new perspective on general aviation. There’s no better way to make sure that GA remains relevant and vibrant than to get out in the sky and do it! Taking nonfliers along for the ride can introduce them to a new world, and might even be the key to bringing the next generation of pilots into the cockpit.

I added the emphasis here; these are the phrases that woke me up from my afternoon burn out.

These phrases reminded me that as a pilot, I’m a member of a tiny community of folks who can just get out and fly. Very few people are as fortunate as we pilots are in this respect.

It’s a Natural Part of My Life

Oddly, flying has become such a part of my life that I don’t think twice about doing it. Here’s a good example from this week.

I need to reposition my “redneck truck” to Grand Canyon Airport (GCN) before next Thursday. The truck is one of the few vehicles I own that can seat three people comfortably. Ground transportation from GCN into the park sucks — the shuttle service is inconsistent and a huge time suck and there are no rental cars (what’s that about?) — and I’ll be there by helicopter at least three times within the next three months with at least two passengers each time. I need to get my people into the park quickly and comfortably — they’re not paying all that money to sit around waiting for a shuttle van. Since I can’t rent a car and I happen to have a spare truck, I figured I’d just put my own transportation there for the season.

I have to drive the truck up there. No getting around that. It’s a 2-1/2 to 3 hour drive. But I didn’t even think about getting someone to drive me back. Instead, I figured I’d ask a friend to fly up and fetch me in return for a fuel top-off. I sent out an e-mail to a friend with a Mooney who is always looking for an excuse to fly, we picked a date and time, and we’re good to go. If he didn’t want to do it, I could think of at least four other people — including my husband, who is half-owner in a Grumman Tiger — who might do it. The idea of driving back never even entered my mind.

Until I read Fuller’s comments and realized that just about everyone else in the world would plan to drive back. The idea of flying back would never even enter their minds.

What It Means to Me

It’s hard to explain to a nonflier what flying means to me. Part of that is because I can no longer imagine things from their perspectives — not being able to just get out and fly. But the other part is their sheer lack of understanding of what it’s like to be airborne. Yes, I know what my town, a good portion of Arizona, and lots of the western states look like from 500 or 1000 feet above the ground. I know how the air will behave as I cross over a dark green alfalfa field on a sunny day or slip into the shade of a cumulous cloud just starting to get heavy with precipitation. I know what it’s like to fly over or past or under a large bird, to cross over the top of an airport with a plane just touching down on the runway beneath me, to slip 1,500 feet below a 747 landing at Sky Harbor Airport (PHX). I know what it’s like to fly up a twisting canyon, level with the tops of the canyon walls, and how it feels to zip low over the surface of a lake or desert plain. I know the feel of the aircraft around me, responding to inputs that my hands and feet automatically feed into it at the whim of my brain — to be one with a vehicle that can move freely in three dimensions, against the pull of gravity.

North to the Future

When I started up my laptop to write this, this is the photo that popped up as my random desktop picture. The world is wide open to a pilot.

I’m not the only one around here who can say all of these things. Once I learned to fly and began spending more and more time at airports, it was only natural to meet and become friends with other pilots. Whether they’re helicopter pilots like me, owners of well kept classic airplanes like my friend’s Mooney, or tinkerers who built their aircraft with their own two hands, they’ve all tasted and perhaps feasted on the freedom of flight. From the guys who put fat tires on their taildraggers so they can land in dry riverbeds to the folks flying big twins and small jets to places like Washington, Idaho, or Colorado, they’re all the same. They’re pilots.

Get on Out There and Fly!

It’s strange that I can no longer see the other person’s point of view — strange because of the number of nonfliers I take flying routinely for my flying business. Perhaps that’s because I fly helicopters. I take it for granted that most people don’t fly in helicopters. But the reality is that most people don’t fly in small aircraft at all.

So here’s my request to all the readers of this post:

If you’re a pilot, take someone who’s never been in a small aircraft flying with you sometime between now and the end of the year. Let them experience the wonder of flight; give them the “new perspective” Craig Fuller wrote about.
If you’re not a pilot, grab a friend and go flying. Take a flight at your local airport or the next time you have a chance to take a tour where aerial tours are offered. Do it before the end of the year.

And then think about it — from all perspectives — and feel fortunate that such an activity is within your grasp.

Photos from the Museum of Flight

Snapshots from our road trip.

As some of you may know, I just finished up a lengthy trip to the Pacific Northwest, ending it with a 2-1/2 week road trip back to Arizona by way of four national parks with my husband, dog, and parrot. I took over 1600 photos over the past three months, with about 800 of them snapped over the past three weeks.

That’s a lot of photos.

I shared some of them earlier in the summer, but soon got behind in reviewing and processing the shots from my Nikon. I also shared a bunch of cell phone photos taken with my BlackBerry, on Twitter via TwitPic and ÜberTwitter. I hope to share a few more of the interesting ones over the next few months here.

That said, here are some from the start of our road trip. My husband and dog arrived on an Alaska Air flight in Seattle on August 13. I drove from Wenatchee, where I was staying, to Seattle to pick them up. Since we had some time to kill, we visited the Museum of Flight at Boeing Field.

If you’re at all interested in aviation and have a chance to visit Seattle, don’t miss the Museum of Flight. I can’t imagine any museum with Aviation exhibits to be more exhaustive than this one — except possibly the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum in Washington.

And now, the photos. Sorry about the obnoxious copyright notice, but I don’t want my work circulated all over the ‘Net without permission or credit. If you want to share any of these shots to friends, link to this page.

The Main Gallery

I made this photo with my fisheye lens from the balcony of the main gallery. Those are real, full-sized airplanes on display — some hanging from the ceiling! It’s a great sight to behold.

At the Museum of Flight

Photo Info:
Camera: Nikon D80
Aperture: f/4.5
Shutter Speed: 1/80
Focal Length: 10.5mm

SR-71 Blackbird

This is the second time I’ve been able to get up close and personal with an SR-71 Blackbird. (The first was at the Pima Air Museum in Tucson, where one is parked outdoors under a shade.) If you want to learn more about this incredible plane, read its Wikipedia entry.

This particular plane has an unusual feature that it shared with only one other SR-71. Can you spot it?

SR-71 Blackbird

Photo Info:
Camera: Nikon D80
Aperture: f/4.2
Shutter Speed: 1/50
Focal Length: 26mm

Jet Engine Detail

This is a closeup shot of some of the tubing on one side of the SR-71 engine on display. You can see the display in the above photo, on the right side of the plane, just inside the white barricades.

I don’t know much about this, but I like the way the tubes look.

Jet Engine Detail

Photo Info:
Camera: Nikon D80
Aperture: f/5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/30
Focal Length: 85mm

Concorde Cockpit

One of the highlights of the museum was the outdoor displays, which included a British Airways Concorde jet. Our walk through was the closest either one of us will get to supersonic fight — and the plane was permanently parked.

A plexiglas panel separated the tourists from the cockpit instuments. But if you put the lens right up against the Plexiglass and hold the camera very still, you might get a shot like this one:

Concorde Cockpit

Photo Info:
Camera: Nikon D80
Aperture: f/5.6
Shutter Speed: 1/30
Focal Length: 85mm

Air Force One Cockpit

The plane that served as Air Force One from the Eisenhower through Nixon administrations was also on display outdoors. Again, the cockpit was on display, protected by a piece of Plexiglas.

There’s nothing like a fisheye lens to get the details in tight spaces.

Air Force One Cockpit

Photo Info:
Camera: Nikon D80
Aperture: f/3.5
Shutter Speed: 1/50
Focal Length: 10.5mm

That’s all for this part of the trip. I hope to have some more interesting shots online soon.

Still Alive and Kicking

Just very busy and so off-the-grid it isn’t funny.

I wanted to take a moment to assure readers that I’m still among the living. I’ve just been very busy traveling, spending most of each day on the road and making overnight stops where Internet access is just not an option.

I hope to be able to put out a new blog post about my travels, as well as some photos, later today.

Stay tuned.