Inappropriate Solo Training Landing Zone?

How about preventing accidents by making conditions easier for new pilots?

I stumbled across this brief preliminary accident report in the NTSB database today. Here it is in its entirety:

The pilot who held a commercial pilot certificate with single-engine land airplane ratings was receiving training to obtain a helicopter rating. The pilot had 31 hours of helicopter flight time and the accident occurred on his second solo flight. The pilot reported he was attempting to takeoff from a wet grass area when the accident occurred. He stated that when he increased the collective to lift off, the helicopter began to roll to the right with the right skid still on the ground. He moved the cyclic to the left and the helicopter responded by rolling to the left with the left skid contacting the ground. The pilot then applied right cyclic and the helicopter again rolled to the right. The right skid contacted the ground and the helicopter rolled over onto it’s right side. As a result of the accident, the main rotor blades and the helicopter fuselage were substantially damaged. The pilot reported that there were no preimpact mechanical failures/malfunctions that would have precluded normal operation.

The accident aircraft was a 2003 Robinson R44 Raven II.

Those of us who have soloed in Robinson (or other small) helicopters know that balance varies greatly depending on how many people are on board. We learn to fly helicopters with two people on board: student pilot and instructor. The helicopter is usually quite balanced with two people on board. I don’t have the exact numbers for this particular flight, but using my R44 as a guide and assuming the pilot and instructor were each 200 pounds with 1/2 tanks of fuel, the weight and balance envelopes should look something like this:

W&B with 2 On Board

If you’ve never seen one of these, let me explain. The longitudinal weight and balance chart shows where the weight is distributed front to back. The pink line represents the main rotor mast. With two 200-pound people on board in the front seat, the center of gravity is forward of the mast. This is pretty normal for an R44. The lateral weight and balance chart, which is what we’re more concerned with in this analysis, shows how the weight is distributed side to side. The 0.00 mark is dead center and, as you can see, the with/without fuel points are very close to the center. In other words, it’s laterally quite balanced.

Now take the instructor out of the left seat. With everything else remaining equal, here’s what the weight and balance envelopes look like:

W&B with 1 on board

First of all, the center of gravity shifts aft. That makes a lot of sense. After all, there’s 200 pounds less weight up front. When I fly, this is extremely noticeable, especially at my new, slimmer weight. The helicopter actually lands on the rear of its skids first; on pick up, the front of the skids come off the ground first.

Laterally, there’s also a big change — and again, that’s what we need to focus on here. Without that 200 pounds of weight on the left side of the aircraft, the center of gravity shifts quite a bit to the right. The heavier the pilot is, the more to the right the weight shifts. So although I used 200 pounds in my example, if the pilot was 250 pounds — which is still legal in an R44 — the weight would shift even further to the right (and slightly forward). When the pilot attempted to lift off, the left skid would rise first.

Again, I don’t have the exact numbers. You can play with this using any reasonable numbers you want. It won’t change the conclusion here.

Now read the description of the accident events and put yourself into the pilot’s seat. He’s taking off so he’s lifting the collective slowly, getting the helicopter light on its skids. The left skid comes off the ground first because that side of the aircraft is lighter. This feels to the pilot as if the helicopter is rolling to the right while the right skid is still on the ground.

Stop right there. This is where the terrain comes into the picture.

The pilot is on wet grass. The accident report didn’t say mud so we won’t assume a sticky surface. But it certainly isn’t smooth. We don’t know how long the grass is or whether it’s uniform or has clumps of thick weeds. The question we should be asking is this: was the right skid “stuck” and creating a pivot point? The answer to that question determines the appropriate action:

  • If the right skid is indeed “stuck” and creating a pivot point, the correct action to avoid dynamic rollover would be to lower the collective. In other words, abort the pick up.
  • If the right skid was not “stuck” or creating a pivot point, the correct action would be to adjust the cyclic to assure there was no lateral movement (as you’d normally do in a pick up) and continue raising the collective.

An experienced pilot would know this. An experienced pilot would have done dozens or hundreds or thousands of solo pickups. He’d have a feel for the aircraft or, at least an idea of what to expect and what to do.

But this wasn’t an experienced pilot. It was a student pilot with only 31 hours of flight time — almost all of which was with a flight instructor beside him — on his second solo flight. So he used the cyclic to stop what he perceived as a roll. He may have been more aggressive than he needed to be, thus causing the helicopter to come down on the left skid. Then another adjustment to the right. The right skid hits that grassy surface and the helicopter rolls. Game over.

So my question is: What the hell was he doing taking off and landing on wet grass?

Flight instructors can reduce the chances of accidents like this by setting up their student pilot solo flights with easy flight conditions. That includes smooth surfaces for takeoff and landing. If this had happened on a nicely paved airport ramp or helipad that was free of surface obstructions like cracks or tie-downs, this accident may not have happened at all. There would be no question about a pivot point because none could exist.

You might also question whether the flight instructor properly taught the concept of dynamic rollover and what to do if it’s suspected on takeoff — lower the collective. And whether the flight instructor made it clear that there should be no lateral movement on pick up or set down. Yes, I know that’s hard for a new pilot to do — especially with only 31 hours — but it’s vitally important, especially on surfaces that could snag a skid.

Which brings me back to my original point: why was he taking off from wet grass?

Fortunately, the pilot was not injured, although the helicopter was substantially damaged. I think this accident makes a good example for teaching about dynamic rollover. With luck, instructors and students will learn from the mistakes here and avoid them in their own training experiences.

Of course, another possibility is the the student pilot simply was not ready to solo.

Pot Roast (a la Deadspin)

The core recipe from the excellent article.

A few weeks ago, fellow author and Twitter/Facebook friend Jeff Carlson linked to a recipe with the comment that it was well-written. Wondering how well a recipe could be written, I followed the link to “How to Cook a Pot Roast: A Guide for People Who Want to Live, Dammit” on Deadspin‘s Foodspin column. And I discovered two things:

  • Jeff was right. It was the most entertaining recipe I ever read. Don’t believe me? Head over there and read it for yourself.
  • The recipe sounded not only easy but delicious.

So after finding a chuck roast in my freezer — left over from when my soon-to-be ex-husband bought half a local steer and had it butchered a while back — I decided to give the recipe a spin. (Okay, pun intended.)

The trouble is, although the recipe article is extremely entertaining to read, it’s not so easy to follow when you get into the kitchen and just want to make the damn thing. So I’ve distilled it down to its basic ingredients and instructions. This is how I’m making it tomorrow for some friends who are joining me for dinner. Pardon me if I’m vague about quantities; a real cook should be able to figure this stuff out.

But please, before you read and follow this recipe, treat yourself to the original article.

Ingredients

  • Beef roast such as rump roast or chuck roast
  • Salt and pepper
  • Canola or vegetable oil
  • Carrots (but not baby carrots), cut to finger length
  • Celery, cut to finger length
  • Onion, halved, or shallots
  • Canned skinless whole tomatoes, crushed
  • Cheap red wine
  • Fresh rosemary and thyme springs, tied together with twine (if possible)
  • Bay leaves
  • Cornstarch

Instructions

  1. Unwrap the roast (and rinse if you like to do that kind of thing) but do not trim the fat.
  2. Season generously — more than you normally might think is right — with salt and pepper. Press the seasonings into the meat.
  3. Heat a heavy bottomed pot or dutch oven on high heat on your stove. If you have a ventilation fan, turn it on.
  4. Add one “glug” of oil to the pot.
  5. Thoroughly brown the meat on all sides. This should take 10-15 minutes. Meat should turn a deep, dark sizzling brown.
  6. Remove meat to a plate or tray. Do not drain off any fat in the pot.
  7. Reduce heat on stove and add carrots, celery, onion (or shallots), and tomatoes to pot. Cook for several minutes or until they start to brown.
  8. Return the meat and any juices that may have drained off into the pot.
  9. Turn the heat back up.
  10. Add a full bottle of wine.
  11. Add the herbs.
  12. Heat the liquid to a low boil and reduce heat to simmer.
  13. Cover and let cook 2-1/2 to 7 hours. (Really; the longer, the better.)
  14. With tongs, remove the meat to a serving plate.
  15. With a slotted spoon, remove the vegetables to a serving plate.
  16. Bring liquid remaining in pot to a full boil.
  17. In a separate dish or mug, mix some cornstarch with cold water to get a paste that’s smooth and just thin enough to pour.
  18. Drizzle cornstarch mixture into pot while whisking; stop when gravy in pot is desired thickness.

Serve with mashed or roasted potatoes. Or noodles (which is what I prefer). Or, as the author of the recipe heartily recommends, some crusty bread.

I’m making this tomorrow. If I’m feeling very energetic and ambitious, I’ll take pictures and insert them as appropriate here.

Now all I need is a good recipe for crusty bread….

My New Wardrobe

A new wardrobe for a new me.

One of the good (and bad) things about losing a bunch of weight is the need to buy new clothes. Good because it’s always nice to have an excuse to buy new things. Bad because buying a whole new wardrobe can be costly.

As reported — or, rather, bragged aboutelsewhere in this blog, I lost about 45 pounds this past summer. Although my clothes closet was full of clothes I’d worn in my thin days and many of them fit me, most of them did not. And my dresser drawers had only clothes that fit me before I lost all that weight.

Taking Inventory

It took a long time to go through all those clothes and I’m just about done. The news was not good.

My much-loved Henley t-shirts — the ones with the super-soft cotton — which I wore almost all the time, were now large enough to wear as nightshirts. They were a men’s size large and a handful of them have been shifted to my pajama drawer. The 3X t-shirts I had been wearing as nightshirts were tent-like and went to the thrift store.

My long-sleeved t-shirts, which had been snug, seemed big enough to put two of me in. The shoulder sleeve seams hung at least two inches below my shoulders. They’ll go to the thrift store.

I tried on at least 20 pairs of denim jeans that had been hanging in my closet for up to 15 years. I gave at least 15 pairs of them to the thrift store. Of the remaining pairs, some of them were so worn or torn that they’d need repairs before being put back into circulation.

The three suits I’d kept from my corporate days were too large. They went to the thrift store. The same goes for most of the dress slacks, although a nice pair of fully lined wool slacks now fit me again.

And when I finally tried on my cold-weather clothes a few weeks ago, I discovered that all of them were too big for me — some of them ridiculously large. That’s long-sleeved t-shirts, turtlenecks, mock turtlenecks, sweaters, sweatshirts, and jackets. I was even heart-broken to discover that even the black denim logo jacket I’d gotten from Lynda.com — the one with “Author” embroidered on it — was now too large to wear. It had been painfully snug when I wore it just last year.

There was some good news in the closet. My formal wear, including a long satin skirt and several sequin tops and dresses, mostly still fit. I had no need for such clothing in the later years of my marriage — after moving to Arizona we never went anywhere that required that level of dress — so I never bought anything it that during my fat days. Fortunately, I kept the thin clothes and hope to wear it in the future — maybe as soon as this New Year’s Eve.

The New Wardrobe

In Color
This photo, shot during my Thanksgiving trip to California, shows off one of the brightly colored t-shirts I picked up on a shopping spree in Vegas earlier that month. (I’ve also been traveling quite a bit lately.)

Over the past few months, I’ve been buying new clothes to fill in the gaps in my wardrobe. I detailed one shopping spree in this blog; there have been other smaller ones since then. On those trips, I bought the things I needed for warm weather: t-shirts, shorts, tank tops, skirts, and casual shoes (to replace the canvas Keds I’ve been wearing for years). A lot of what I bought is colorful — something I avoided in the past.

I also bought a lot of understuff: panties and bras. None of what I had in my underwear drawer fit properly anymore. I discovered Victoria’s Secret, had a bra fitting, and bought a few lacy bras that not only fit perfectly, but also helped counteract the affects of gravity that all women experience after a certain age. Of course, with all those lacy bras, I needed lacy panties to replace the practical but not very exciting cotton undies I’d been wearing for years. My soon-to-be ex-husband didn’t seem to care much about my lingerie — or sex, for that matter — in the last year or so of our marriage but I’m sure his replacement will. And I love looking and feeling sexy again.

I spent the Christmas holidays in St. Augustine, Florida, with my mom and stepdad. It wasn’t until I packed for the trip that I realized I had problems with my cold-weather wardrobe. So two days after Christmas, at the height of post-Christmas sales but before all the good merchandise had been bought up, I hit the outlet mall there.

Sale!It was a real shop-till-you-drop experience. I bought 9 long-sleeved t-shirts, 2 short-sleeved t-shirts, 2 lace camisoles, 3 tank tops, 3 sweaters, 2 pairs of Levis blue jeans, and a belt. I also bought 2 pairs of shoes — one of which I put on in the store and threw away what I’d been wearing. The sales made all this possible. With sale prices and two coupons, I spent less than $350 and got quality merchandise from stores like Eddie Bauer, Bass Shoes, Levis, and Tommy Hilfiger.

By the time I staggered back to the car, I was carrying 8 shopping bags. I had to ship most of my purchases home; the new clothes simply would not fit in my luggage.

Wearing Clothes that Fit

My new clothes all have one thing in common: they fit.

I know that sounds like an obvious goal, but you need to understand the kinds of clothes I was wearing before I lost weight. Back then, I didn’t like tight clothes because they showed off every bulge, so everything was loose-fitting. That just made me look even bigger than I was. And because ladies sizes weren’t always big enough for me, I bought a lot of my clothes in the men’s department — especially shirts. As a result, I always looked kind of big and shapeless.

Not so with my new wardrobe. All of my shirts are skin-tight, showing off my flat belly and new figure. Most of the jeans are “skinny” jeans — straight-leg and form-fitting. Even my shoes are cute and stylish; heck, just yesterday I got a complement on one of my new pairs.

Looking Lean
This shot, from my October 2012 Glamour Shots photo shoot — which was done before I finished slimming down — is a good example of my personal style.

And not only am I fitting into some of the old clothes I wore in my 20s and 30s, but I’m also dressing the same way I did back then — wearing clothes that accentuate my height (5’8″) and slim build. (That’s not as scary as it sounds, mostly because I never did go into the slutty look so many 20-somethings seem to like today.) I’ve resurrected my own personal style from the 80s and 90s: simple clothes in timeless fashions and basic colors. I look good, which, in turn, helps me feel even better.

It feels great to turn a few heads when I’m out and about.

What’s Still on My List

My wardrobe is nearly complete. The only thing I can still really use is a good mid-weight jacket. The few jackets I have — including my often-worn Robinson Helicopter jacket — are way too big on me. I already gave three jackets away, including a denim baseball-style jacket I got long ago for test riding a Yamaha motorcycle at Americade in 1991. (Did I mention that I seldom threw anything away?)

The good news is, my leather bomber jacket — the one with the sheepskin collar — still fits well enough to wear; I’ll put it to use on my upcoming photo gig at Lake Powell and Monument Valley. It’s freaking cold in the helicopter up there this time of year with two doors off, especially at dawn.

And my costly outback style oilskin duster — which I wore exactly twice on horseback rides during foul weather — fits fine. Now all I need is a reason to wear it again.

THIS is What Life is All About

Experiencing the wonder of the world with someone you love.

Last night, I went to see The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. While I’ll likely use another blog post to debate the wisdom of stretching Tolkien’s classic into a three-part movie, I cannot criticize the movie makers for the breathtaking scenery throughout the movie. Filmed in New Zealand, this — and the epic Lord of the Rings trilogy — showcases some of the most stunning backcountry locations in the world.

There’s a scene in the movie when Thorin’s Company (13 dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard) are traveling along a ridge in the mountains, high above the clouds. The scene, obviously shot from a helicopter, reminded me of two other scenes, one from a movie and the other from real life:

  • One of the closing scenes in the 1965 classic, The Sound of Music, when the Von Trapp Family is escaping the Nazis by hiking through the alps.
  • A particular moment on my July 2012 helicopter flight over the Cascade Mountains, when I crossed a specific rocky ridge surrounded by low clouds within sight of Mt. St. Helens.

That entire July flight was amazing, but it was this rocky ridge that popped into my mind while watching The Hobbit in a crowded Florida movie theater:

Cascades Ridge

And it brought me to tears. Even as I write this, perched on a stool at the breakfast bar in my mother’s kitchen on a Thursday morning before dawn, I’m all teary-eyed thinking about the amazing things I see and experience almost every day of my life — usually alone.

As I blogged after that flight:

I also felt more than a bit of sadness. There’s no way I can describe the amazing beauty of the remote wilderness that was around me for more than half of that flight. And yet there I was, enjoying it alone, unable to share it with anyone. Although I think my soon-to-be ex-husband would have enjoyed the flight, he was not with me and never would be again. I felt a surge of loneliness that I’ve never felt before. It ached to experience such an incredible flight alone, unable to share it firsthand with someone else who might appreciate it as much as I did.

Over time, I’ve come to learn that it’s more important to experience life than to be a slave to the material things we think we need to survive. I’m not independently wealthy — I do have to work for a living. But I’ve learned to work hard and smart and to live somewhat frugally so my money goes farther. By staying out of debt — and I’ll be completely debt-free (at least for a while) when my helicopter’s final loan payment is made next week — I’m not stressed about having to generate enough income to make credit card and loan payments. I can take time off to enjoy the experiences that make life worth living. In a way, I’m in a sort of semi-retirement where I mix work with play and really enjoy life.

Unfortunately, I’m one of the few people I know who are able to do this.

Reflection Canyon
Another example of the great places I fly for work; this shot was captured by my helicopter’s “nose cam” during a photo flight at Lake Powell.

My choice of career has also enabled me to enjoy amazing life experiences while working. I can’t begin to list the incredible places my work has taken me — or the incredible things I’ve seen from the air and on the ground while simply doing my job. That dawn flight across the Cascades is just an example — I did it for work, to reposition the helicopter for a required maintenance. In other words, it was part of my job. Not only did it entail a pair of amazing flights on consecutive days, but it also included a day spent wandering around Portland, a drive along the coast, a great dinner of oyster stew and fried oysters in an oceanside restaurant, a walk along the beach with my dog, a night in a beachfront motel, a beautiful foggy dawn, breakfast in a historic hotel, and a scenic drive back to the Portland area. What some people might do on a pair of days off, I was able to do as part of my work. How great is that?

What’s not so great is doing it alone.

Although my soon-to-be ex-husband promised me he’d join me on the road during my annual migration to points north — and I worked hard for years to build a business capable of supporting both of us — he backed out with excuses about needing to save more for retirement. I always hoped he’d see the light — and I was somewhat patiently waiting for him to do so right up to the end. The end came, as I’ve mentioned elsewhere in this blog, when he replaced me with another woman — someone who apparently doesn’t mind watching him be a slave to his material possessions and debt, enjoying life on weekends and during two weeks of paid vacation time each year.

It’s a shame, really. While I feel that life is all about experiences, those experiences are somehow better when they’re shared with someone else. For nearly 29 years, some (but not all) of my best life experiences were spent with the same man who I really thought appreciated them as much as I did: A road trip down the Pacific Coast from Seattle to San Francisco. A motorcycle camping trip down Skyline Drive and the Shenandoah Parkway and back up the Atlantic Coast’s barrier islands. A dash across a mosquito-infested field in the Everglades to a rental car, followed by an intense swatting session. A sunset soak in abandoned hot springs along the Rio Grande, watching wild horses graze in Mexico. A jet ski journey up the Colorado River from Lake Havasu to Laughlin. A river rafting trip down the Colorado through the Grand Canyon. A horseback ride on the beach in Costa Rica. A hike up a slot canyon with friends on the shore of Lake Powell. Time trials at a Bridgehampton race track in my Toyota MR-2. A day spent exploring the ruins of Chichen Itza. A sunrise at Montauk Point, followed by a nap in each others arms on a flat rock overlooking the Sound. An afternoon spent snorkeling in Cozumel. A view of the broken clouds of a marine layer moving in beneath us during a helicopter flight down the coast of Oregon. Long walks on beaches in too many places to count.

These are all memories I cherished, experiences somehow made better at the time because I shared them with someone I loved. Someone I could talk to about them long afterward. Someone who could browse photo albums with me and reminisce about the scenes they captured. Someone who could say, “Remember when we…” and I could remember with him.

That’s all gone now. Yes, I still have those memories, but they’re no longer shared, no longer cherished. Instead, they’re a reminder of how things change, how people grow apart without even knowing it, how love dies, and how easy it is for some people to replace a “life partner.”

I’ll have new experiences and build new memories of the amazing places I go and things I see and do in the years to come. Maybe I’ll have someone to share them with. Maybe we’ll stay together for a long time — long enough for the word “forever” to have meaning to me again.

But I’m certainly not going to wait for that someone to continue enjoying what’s important to me in life: experiencing the wonder of the world. The world is out there now and it’s not waiting either.