In-Flight “Emergency”…

…on a check ride.

There’s no better way to test a pilot on his or her knowledge of emergency procedures than to simulate an in-flight unusual situation. I hesitate to use the word emergency here, because what most check pilots simulate is not really a full emergency. It’s more of a situation that requires the pilot’s attention, knowledge of procedures, judgement, and action.

Real Throttle Chops are a Thing of the Past

Gone (or almost gone) are the days when helicopter flight instructors or examiners did “throttle chops.” A throttle chop is a simulated engine failure in which the instructor or examiner twists the throttle to idle suddenly during flight. The engine and rotor RPM needles split and the rotor RPM needle immediately starts to drop. The student or pilot in command is required to immediately enter an autorotation. The experts estimate that the pilot has about two seconds to react properly. Failure to react could lead to unrecoverable low rotor RPM, which is a very bad thing.

Flight instructors and examiners pretty much stopped doing real throttle chops — the kind with absolutely no warning to the student — when helicopters started crashing. It seemed that in some cases, the student pilot or pilot in command wouldn’t react fast enough and the instructor or examiner didn’t either. Or, in some rare cases, the sudden reduction in power caused the engine to hiccup and really fail. Now most instructors usually warn the student in advance. Some slowly reduce the throttle, which leads to an audible change in engine sound that warns the student — not to mention that he or she can usually feel the adjustment in his or her collective hand. Others do a throttle chop and enter the autorotation at the same time, not even giving the student a chance to react.

Robinson Helicopter issued several safety notices recommending against throttle chops (see SN-27 and SN-38). The company even amended its Pilot Operating Handbook so practice autorotations would be done with just a tiny needle split rather than a full throttle-to-idle setting. (Not a very good simulation of an engine failure, if you ask me.)

So What’s an Instructor/Examiner to Do?

One of the instructor/examiners I’ve worked with in the past was extremely fond of failing instruments or illuminating warning lights. This particular instructor, who works for Robinson Helicopter, has a whole collection of circuit breaker tricks that he uses on unsuspecting students. He’ll pull an engine tach circuit breaker so the engine tachometer drops to 0 during flight. No lights, just that dead gauge. He does it to see how long before the pilot notices and whether the pilot knows what do do about it. He’ll do the same for other gauges that are important but not vital to safe flight.

I took my commercial check ride with this particular instructor/examiner and he made me do a run-on landing with “failed” engine tachometer, rotor tachometer, and governor (switch the governor off to simulate). The trick was to make very small collective inputs and hope the mechanical correlator would keep the RPM within range; listening to the sound of the engine helped a tiny bit. But I still managed to make that low rotor RPM horn go off as we approached the runway surface. Evidently, I exercised enough finesse, because although he was disappointed that the horn had come on, he didn’t fail me for it. Personally, I like to see him do it perfectly.

(A side note here. What real-life situation would require you to land with all that stuff inoperable? The only thing I can think of is a complete electrical failure. But even then, I think there’s some trick in the Robinson wiring scheme that keeps the tachs alive. Just can’t remember what it might be right now. Guess I need to look it up.)

My Recent Mechanical Failure

I’ve taken 6 check rides since I started flying about 8 years ago: 1 private, 1 commercial, and 4 Part 135s. There’s usually some kind of simulated failure during a flight. So when the Aux Fuel light came on during my most recent check ride on Thursday, my first inclination was to ask the examiner, “Did you do that?”

“What?”

We were doing an instrument approach at Williams Gateway Airport and I think he was paying more attention to my altimeter (I was supposed to be at 1880 feet) than anything else.

“That light,” I replied.

He saw the light. “No,” he said.

I didn’t believe him and asked him again. He repeated that he wasn’t responsible.

“Is the circuit breaker out?” I asked.

He looked down at the bank of circuit breakers at the base of his seat. “Yes.”

“Okay, it’s not a big deal,” I said. “It’s the auxiliary fuel pump. It’s a redundant system and we don’t need it for flight. The book says land as soon as practical. Do you want to push the circuit breaker back in?”

“No.”

(For the record, I would have.)

“Well, how about if we land here and have Kelly look at it?” I suggested. Kelly is my helicopter mechanic. By some unbelievable stroke of luck, we were landing at the airport where he was based and it wasn’t 5 PM yet.

He agreed that would be a good idea and talked to the tower for me. He then directed me to parking. I set it down in one of the helicopter parking spaces that Silver State uses. He pushed the circuit breaker back in. It popped back out. He got out to track down Kelly while I cooled down the engine and shut down.

Long story short: Kelly pulled off the side panel and found that one of the bolts on top of the fuel pump was loose. He removed the pump, bench tested it, tightened up the bolts, wrote up a logbook entry on a sticker for me, and sent us on our way. The whole process took a little more than an hour. The pump sounded much better when I primed the engine for startup and the light didn’t come on again as we did some more maneuvers at Williams Gateway and flew back to Scottsdale.

I passed the check ride. I like to think that the failed fuel pump helped me. It showed that I knew enough about the procedure to stay calm and make the right decision about it. In a way, it was a real-life “emergency” during the flight. Again, I don’t like to use the word emergency because there was never really any danger — unless, of course, the engine-driven fuel pump went bad, too. Then we’d have a problem.

Postscript

I flew back from Scottsdale with no further fuel pump problems.

The next day, I did a 50-minute scenic flight with two passengers on board. We were about 45 minutes into the flight — less than 5 miles from the airport — when the darn light came back on. I finished the tour — which was basically on the way to the airport anyway — and landed. When I pushed in the circuit breaker, it popped right out again.

When my passengers were on their way, I visited Ed, my local mechanic. I asked him to take a look at the pump when he had a chance, then put the helicopter away in my hangar, which is just down the row from his. He called with the bad news a while later. The pump was seized. I’d have to get a new one. I called the factory at 2:30 PM (their time) and managed to get it on a UPS truck for overnight (Saturday) delivery to Wickenburg. With luck, it’ll arrive as planned (Saturday deliver is a very iffy thing in Wickenburg) and Ed will put it in. I’ll be flying again on Sunday.

Unfortunately, it’ll take the flights I have scheduled on Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday just to pay for the new pump.

The Who, In Concert

Not too old to rock and roll.

Mike and I were lucky enough to have seats on the floor at Wednesday night’s Who concert at US Airways Center (formerly America West Arena) in downtown Phoenix. It was an amazing experience.

First of all, the last time we saw The Who, John Entwistle was still alive. We saw the concert at Shea Stadium (I think; you’d think I’d remember something like that), which is a huge venue. Most of the rock concerts I’ve been to have been in big venues: Madison Square Garden (where I always managed to be in the Yellow “nose-bleed” section) for Elton John and led Zeppelin (in the 1970s) , Nassau Coliseum (for Styx and Yes), Shea Stadium (for the Rolling Stones, The Who, and Elton John and Eric Clapton (together, in the 1990s)), and Giants Stadium (for Pink Floyd, Division Bell tour, 1990s). US Airways Center is smaller than Nassau Coliseum (I think), so seeing these legends of rock and roll in such a “tiny” place was a real treat.

Second of all, I was among the youngest people in the place. The average age of concert-goers was approaching 50. Lots of balding heads and beer bellies and overweight women. Mike and I fit right in. There were exceptions, of course. One guy apparently had his son (or perhaps grandson?) with him. And there were a half dozen geeky 20-year-olds who became somewhat of an annoyance by bouncing along with the music past the floor sections, only to be pushed back repeatedly by security. (I would have kicked them out after the second incursion.)

Our seats were 20-30 rows back from the stage. Very nice seats. There was an aisle in front of the row in front of us, so it wasn’t as if we had to look over a sea of heads. Mike did good.

We arrived just in time for the opening act, The Tragically Hip. I can understand how the word “tragic” got into this band’s name. It was a tragedy for us to arrive in time to hear them. It was also a tragedy that they played 5 or 6 songs, all of which sounded pretty much the same to me. And the lyrics:

You’re not the ocean.

You’re not even close.

Huh?

The lead singer had some kind of weird dance move that isn’t exactly original — Cab Calloway was doing the same thing back in the 1930s a hell of a lot better. And I guess he didn’t understand that the thing he was shouting into was a live microphone, because he found it necessary to scream most of the lyrics.

You’re not the ocean.

You’re not even close.

Yeah. Whatever.

The Tragically Hip exited the stage amidst applause. The roadies came out and started working on the stage. The people who had been watching the opening act, went out to get beer and nachos. (Yes, nachos; very strange for an east coast girl.) The smart people who knew that the opening act would suck started filing in. The place filled up. They were playing recorded music over the loudspeakers. They were in the middle of Led Zeppelin’s When the Levee Breaks when the music died out, the hall went dark, and Daltrey and Townshend took the stage with their band (drummer Zak Starkey, keyboardist John Bundrick, guitarist Simon Townshend, and bassist Pino Palladrino).

Endless WireEveryone was immediately on their feet. And we stayed there for the next two hours, sitting only when the band played a track from their new CD. We were all there to hear the old stuff and they didn’t disappoint.

They opened with I Can’t Explain. And for guys in their 60s, they looked pretty damn good. Daltrey is in excellent shape — he looks like he works out. Even Townshend, who never stuck me as the kind of guy overly interested in appearance, looked good. The show was great, full of energy and the “trademarked” moves Who fans have come to expect: Daltrey’s swinging of the mike (he’s probably the only performer who still needs a mike with a wire) and Townshend’s “windmill.”

The concert lasted about two hours, including a 20-minute encore. They played Teenage Wasteland, Pinball Wizard (leading off a Tommy medley), My Generation, Behind Blue Eyes, and more than my addled brain can remember. (If you were at the concert, please use the Comments link to fill in my memory gaps. You can also read a review here.)

The show was great and kept my attention for the entire time — which is something unusual (I think I suffer from ADD symptoms sometimes). I was energized, dancing and singing at the top of my lungs. (Don’t worry; no one heard me above the sound of the band.)

But the thing I came away with from the experience is this: I’m not too old to rock and roll — and neither are the two surviving members of The Who.

Using Google AdSense Channels

Article now available on Informit.com.

My latest Informit.com article, “Using Google AdSense Channels” is now online.

From the article’s intro (written by editors, not me):

Google’s AdSense program is a very popular advertising option for blogs and web sites because it’s easy to use and can generate revenue with minimal effort. Maria Langer explains how to use the Channels features in AdSense to track which of your ads are earning the most revenue.

This article should be of special interest to bloggers and traditional Web site webmasters who try to raise revenue using the Google AdSense products.

There are two other Informit articles in the pipeline. Keep checking in; I’ll let you know when they’re released. Or check my Informit.com books and articles page for yourself to see what’s new.

Too Busy to Blog!

I’m back (kinda) and will be blogging again shortly.

Just a quick note to let readers know that I’ve been completely tied up (figuratively; don’t get any kinky ideas) for the past three days. I spent the time in the Phoenix area, taking care of some helicopter training issues, a bum aviation radio, a Who concert (really!), and a Part 135 check ride.

I’m back this morning and have a whole long list of things to blog about. Unfortunately, I still have a few things to do — mainly two helicopter flights and the completion of Chapter 7 of my Excel 2007 book — before I can get back to adding content to this site.

So bear with me; I’ll be back soon.

Blogging the FARs: ATC Light Signals

For the first time, it might be something I need to know.

One of the nice things about my helicopter is that it has two com radios: a standard Bendix King KY196A and the radio that’s part of my Garmin 420 GPS.

My Radio Setup

Bendix King KY196AThe Bendix King is my primary radio and it’s wired into some controls on the cyclic stick. This is a neat feature that’s standard on Robinson helicopters. I can program 9 frequencies into the radio and cycle through them all without reaching down for the radio knobs or buttons. Once I get the frequency I want on standby, I simply push a second button on the cyclic to make that frequency active. I’ve got it programmed for all the CTAF (common traffic advisory frequencies), towers, and ATIS (automatic terminal information service) recordings of the airports I visit most: Wickenburg, Prescott, Deer Valley, etc.

Garmin 420The Garmin is primarily a GPS and I very seldom use the radio. It has the ability to automatically transfer the radio frequency for the current waypoint or selected airport to the standby slot, but when I’m flying, I don’t usually mess around too much with the GPS controls beyond simple Go To and Nearest functions. I prefer having a list of frequencies I need for a flight handy and manually tuning them in. A few times, I used the GPS to look up or check a frequency, but that was usually a practice exercise to make me more proficient with the GPS’s airport directory feature. I subscribe to the data card updates and usually have current (or at least recent) data in there, so it’s pretty reliable. It’s also a lot easier than fumbling with a chart while I’m flying. (One of the drawbacks of flying a helicopter is that you only have one hand to work with while you’re flying; your right hand is pretty much glued to the cyclic.) Another cool thing about the Garmin is that when paired with a Garmin GTX 330 transponder and flying within range of Class B airspace, it can graphically display traffic, as I wrote about here.

A nice thing about having two radios is that I can monitor two frequencies at once. This is especially handy if I want to fly between, say Deer Valley and Scottsdale — a distance of about 9 miles — and want to listen to the Scottsdale ATIS while monitoring the Deer Valley tower for instructions or traffic information. In fact, I’m starting to get into the habit of using the GPS’s radio to monitor ATIS and the Bendix King for two-way communications.

Two Radios are Better than One

Of course, the best thing about having two radios is that if one of them fails, there’s another one there to use. And just recently, having two radios became a very good thing.

On a recent flight, while talking to an airport tower’s controller, I heard static in my headset about halfway through my transmission. Turns out, when the transmission turned to static, it also became garbled on the controller’s end. He couldn’t understand what I was saying. But I could hear him and everyone else just fine.

I immediately tuned in the proper frequency on the Garmin, flicked the right switches to talk on that radio, and retransmitted. No problem. So it wasn’t my push-to-talk switch. It was something in the radio.

I had the radio looked at the same day. Of course, the mechanic could not duplicate the problem. And neither could I on my way home.

Don’t you hate when that happens?

Well, the problem has reared its ugly head several times since then. I’ve had another mechanic and an avionics shop look at it. The mechanic couldn’t duplicate the problem. The avionics shop pulled the radio out for a bench test and could find nothing wrong with it. But they did find a mysterious nut (as in hardware) in the mounting bracket. Once removed, the radio appeared to seat better in the console. We thought the problem would go away. But it didn’t.

So I’m left with a radio that receives perfectly and transmits perfectly about 75% of the time along with a second radio that works fine. I’ve taken to talking on the Garmin and listening to ATIS on the Bendix King.

Unfortunately, no one seems to have a spare KY196A for me to swap temporarily with mine. Putting another radio in there and flying with it for a bit would help me confirm that the problem is the radio and not some kind of helicopter wiring problem. You see, if I put in a different radio and the problem goes away, the problem is definitely my radio. But if the problem persists with a different radio in there, the problem is in the helicopter’s wiring or something related. I tracked down a refurbished KY196A, which I can get for a whopping $2,100. The folks there have promised to take it back if the problem turns out to be in the helicopter rather than the radio. So I’ll be ordering it on Monday.

What All This Has to Do with Light Signals

As usual, I’ve turned a short topic into a long story. But it does explain why light signals are on my mind.

If my second radio also decides to stop transmitting reliably, I may be unable to communicate with a tower. That would not be a good thing if I wanted to land at a towered airport.

The AIM (Aeronautical Information Manual) has a procedure for this. (You can find it in Chapter 6, Section 4-2.) The first thing a pilot who has lost communication capabilities should do is turn his/her transponder to 7600. That sends out a signal that says, “Hey, I’m over here and my radio isn’t working.” If you’re lucky, the tower you’re trying to land out has radar capabilities and can “see” you and this signal. The tower will attempt communication and will react according the results.

In my case, I can hear the tower perfectly fine. I can even transmit a little. So the controller would probably work with that and communications would continue, although rather one-sidedly, with me getting instructions and either clicking my push to talk button or speaking briefly to acknowledge.

But if I couldn’t hear a thing — or couldn’t get the controller to understand that I could hear — the controller would take out the light signal gun and point it at me. And that’s when I’d need to know what the signals meant.

I saw one of these light signal guns close up once, on a visit to Chandler tower. It’s a handheld device that they had attached to the ceiling inside the tower. It can display/flash three different colors of light: red, green, and white. The controller points it at an aircraft having communications problems and either shines a steady light or flashes a light. The pilot is supposed to understand what the signals mean.

So what do they mean?

FAR 91.125: ATC light signals includes this useful table:

Color and type of signalMeaning with respect to aircraft on the surfaceMeaning with respect to aircraft in flight
Steady greenCleared for takeoffCleared to land.
Flashing greenCleared to taxiReturn for landing (to be followed by steady green at proper time).
Steady redStopGive way to other aircraft and continue circling.
Flashing redTaxi clear of runway in useAirport unsafe—do not land.
Flashing whiteReturn to starting point on airportNot applicable.
Alternating red and greenExercise extreme cautionExercise extreme caution.

How This Might Appear on a Check Ride

Testing you on your knowledge of this is pretty straightforward for an FAA Examiner. He’ll simply say something like “You discover that your radio doesn’t work as you approach Class Delta airspace. What do you do?”

You reply that you tune your transponder to 7600 and circle outside the airspace until you see a light signal from the tower.

The examiner then says, “Okay, so you see the tower flashing a green light at you. What do you do?”

You explain that the signal means you should “return for landing” or enter the normal traffic pattern.

“You’re cleared to land?” the sly FAA examiner asks innocently.

“No. You need to wait for a steady green before you can land,” you reply, indicating full understanding of FAR 91.125.

To really prepare for this question on a test — and for it happening in real life — it’s a good idea to review the AIM Chapter 4, Section 3-13: Traffic Control Light Signals. Chapter 4, sections 2 and 3 provide additional information for working with Air Traffic Control at an airport. And, if you’re flying IFR (which I don’t), check out Chapter 6, Section 4: Two Way Radio Communications Failure.

Of course, all this might be led up with you explaining what’s required to enter Class D airspace in the first place. But that’s another FAR to explore.

One More Thing

I just remembered that I had a “voluntary radio failure” a while back when returning to non-Towered Wickenburg Airport (E25) from an off-airport location three years ago. If you’re interested, you can read about it here.