Not Ready for Solo?

This one is too absurd to pass up without comment.

I was going through the NTSB reports for helicopters today, looking for a specific accident in Arizona that hasn’t yet been listed on NTSB.gov. I did, however find this report that seems to indicate a training problem with a solo student pilot that has 64 hours of helicopter flight time:

According to the pilot, she departed Frederick Municipal Airport (FDK), Frederick, Maryland, about 0745, with an intended destination of Lancaster Airport (LNS), Lancaster, Pennsylvania. The pilot reported that she conducted the cruise portion of the flight at an altitude of 3,000 feet above mean sea level (msl), at an airspeed of approximately 110 knots. After she established communications with the LNS air traffic control tower, and was getting ready to begin her descent to the airport, the pilot noticed that the vertical speed indicator was indicating a descent of approximately 1,000 feet per minute, and that the airspeed was approximately 120 knots. The pilot “raised the collective” pitch control in an effort to reduce or stop the descent, but the helicopter did not respond as the pilot expected, and the descent continued. She determined that she would not be able to reach LNS, and selected a field suitable for a landing. The helicopter landed hard in a soybean field approximately 8 miles west-southwest of LNS. It remained upright, and the engine continued to run after touchdown, until the pilot shut it down using normal shutdown procedures.

The preliminary report goes on to say that when investigators tested the aircraft’s engine, they didn’t find anything wrong with it. It was up to date on all maintenance, the fuel samples were clear, and there was no evidence of a problem.

Is it me or is the problem as simple as what can be gleaned from the above-quoted paragraph? Let’s review:

  • The helicopter was descending at 1000 feet per minute, which is pretty quick, but not nearly as quick as an autorotation or a steep descent from altitude. (I commonly descend at at least 1500 feet per minute when coming off the Weaver Mountains (4500 feet) to Congress (3000 feet) toward Wickenburg (2400 feet).)
  • The helicopter’s airspeed was up to 120 knots from 110 knots. That’s fast, even for an R44. I normally cruise at 110 knots when alone; I have to push pretty hard to get it up to 120 knots without adding power or beginning a descent.
  • The pilot “raised the collective.” Helicopter Flying 101 says that when you pull pitch (raise collective) on a helicopter with a governor or a correlator (or both, as this helicopter has), you’re increasing power.

So the pilot is already zooming through the sky, but she adds power to stop the descent? Doesn’t she understand how the cyclic works? Pull it back to slow down. If you keep your power setting the same, you should also slow your descent rate.

Here’s what I think happened, based on the information provided in the preliminary report and a little research. The pilot was cruising at 3,000 feet. She was “getting ready to begin her descent” to an airport at an elevation of 403 — a required descent of 2600 feet. What she didn’t realize is that she had already begun the descent. Possibly with the airport in sight, she’d pushed the cyclic forward, perhaps to adjust the sight picture of the horizon before her. (This is something I recall doing more than once when I was a new pilot descending from altitude, so I can understand how she might do it, too.) The net result of a forward movement of the cyclic without a power change is to speed up and descend — which is exactly what happened. With a power setting of 18 to 20 inches of manifold pressure, she could easily get into this situation.

Rather than attempt to slow down by pulling the cyclic back, she elected to arrest descent by adding power. This would only make the problem worse if she didn’t add aft cyclic. It was probably a flare near the bottom — perhaps drilled into her by numerous practice autorotations — that slowed her down and enabled her to touch down without slamming any harder into the ground.

What should she have done? As soon as she realized she was going so fast and descending, she should have added aft cyclic. This should both slow her down and reduce her descent rate. It doesn’t matter how much power is available; if the rotors are not stalling, the helicopter will fly. Gentle aft cyclic should enable her to get a better idea of what the problem is — if there is indeed a problem.

But it’s hard to imagine a power problem if there’s no loss of RPM or yawing to the right — neither of which is mentioned as a symptom of the problem. And believe me, if a Robinson has low rotor RPM, you’ll know it — the damn horn starts blaring at 97% RPM; she would have had enough power to fly with RPM as low as 85% (or probably lower).

What do I take away from this? This solo student pilot was not prepared for her solo flight. She evidently did not understand how the controls work together to manage airspeed and climb or descent rates. (This may have something to do with her experience as an airplane pilot.) When she noticed the descent rate and high speed, she possibly panicked and did the first thing that came into her mind: raise the collective to stop the descent. But if she had been properly trained and knew what was going on, she would have reacted properly by simply pulling the cyclic back to slow down and reduce the descent rate.

As a result, a helicopter is destroyed, the NTSB is required to waste time and resources to investigate, and a student pilot, although lucky to be alive, has an accident on her record.

No Child Left Behind?

Sure, they can pass tests. But can they tell time?

I had a heavy shock today in the Safeway Supermarket in Wickenburg, AZ when I witnessed the following exchange between a cashier/manager and the teenage clerk who was bagging groceries at her register.

Girl: Do I get a break today?

Cashier (after studying a break sheet): Yes. You have lunch at 3 o’clock.

Girl: What time is it now?

Cashier (pointing to the clock on the wall): Look at the clock.

Girl (laughing): I can’t tell time on that.

I looked at the clock. It was a typical wall clock — you know, the round kind with two hands and a bunch of numbers. It read 1:35 PM.

Me (to the girl): You can’t tell time on a regular clock?

Girl (still laughing): No.

Teenage Guy behind me on line: I can’t either.

Me (to the girl): And you think that’s funny? What school did you go to?

Girl (still laughing but now moved to the end of the next register; I think I was scaring her): Wickenburg.

We’ll cut the conversation here, mostly because I became outraged and had to be calmed by the cashier, who is about my age. I reminded her that I learned how to tell time when I was 5 and I’m sure she was about the same age.

The point of all this is the fact that today’s kids apparently lack basic skills that they need to get by in life. How can an 18-year-old girl not know how to tell time on a standard analog clock? What else does she not know how to do? Read? Write in full sentences? Spell the words that might appear on a job application?

How the hell does she expect to get anywhere in life? Or is her highest aspiration to be a bagger in a grocery store? No offense to folks with challenged kids, but mentally retarded people can do that.

Yet apparently, this kid can pass the tests she needs to graduate high school.

No child left behind? Sure.

You Can’t Fix Stupid

Quote of the day.

If you follow this blog, you may have read about my Quincy Golf Course RV Park Internet woes. I thought I had them licked before I went away to Pateros on June 26, but when I returned on July 7, it was down again.

Recap

Let me review the situation:

  • The Internet people put an antenna on the roof of the Golf Course Pro Shop building.
  • The antenna points to another antenna about a half mile away to pick up an Internet signal.
  • The Internet people put a WiFi router in the Pro Shop and connected it to the antenna.
  • The WiFi setup operates at normal WiFi frequencies.
  • The Pro Shop has a Toro irrigation system which uses an antenna on the building to turn various sprinklers on or off based on a computer schedule and manual inputs on a radio.
  • The Toro system operates on a completely different frequency in a different range.
  • The irrigation guy is convinced that the Internet system conflicts with the irrigation system.
  • The Internet people moved the antenna and ran extensive tests with the irrigation guy to assure that his system continued to work. There was no conflict at that time or any other time that the Internet people were here.

That’s where things were on June 26 when I left town for 10 days. When I got back, the Internet was disconnected and the router was missing — although all the other equipment was in place and even powered up.

Evidently, while I was gone, the irrigation system failed again. Coincidentally, there was also a power failure here — I know this because my microwave’s clock was reset. But the irrigation guy — who I think I’m going to rechristen the irritation guy — is certain that the failure is due to the Internet setup. And now he’s convinced management.

So they won’t let me reconnect the system.

So I don’t have full-time Internet anymore. Again.

And I’m out the $70 I paid for two months of Internet service.

And I’m working on a book for a software product that attempts to connect to the Internet every third time I click a button or choose a menu command.

Stupid is as Stupid Does

I’ve spoken to numerous people about this situation. People who know more about the technical aspects of wireless operations than I ever will. All have agreed that there should not be a conflict.

I talked directly to Toro technical support. They told me there should not be a conflict.

During the troubleshooting process, I disconnected the entire Internet system and asked the irritation guy to test it. He claimed it wouldn’t work. When I pointed out that nothing was connected, he admitted that his radio transmitter battery was low and that could have caused the problem.

Every single time the Internet people were here to test the system with the irritation guy, the irrigation system worked flawlessly.

Yet the first time it doesn’t work properly, the irritation guy blames the Internet and disconnects part of the system. He gets it to work and assumes that the problem is the Internet — not whatever else he did to get it to work.

When I recited these details to my editor, Megg, she gave me a quote from her husband: “You can’t fix stupid.” I had to write it down. It fits this situation perfectly.

Stupid is not a word I use lightly. I prefer the word ignorant, which has a very different meaning. Ignorant means uninformed. Or, more specifically, from the New Oxford American Dictionary in the Dictionary application in Mac OS X:

lacking knowledge or awareness in general; uneducated or unsophisticated

I wanted to think that the irritation guy was just ignorant. He’s not technically savvy. Heck, he had to have his daughter come out and help him disconnect an Ethernet cable from a computer! All he knows about the irrigation computer is what the setup guy told him. He doesn’t touch it without assistance from the local support person. So, obviously he’s not informed about how computers work.

But when several people go through the exercise of testing the system with him to prove that it works and multiple people explain that the two systems are on different frequency ranges so there shouldn’t be any conflict and he still refuses to believe, I have to start applying the stupid label to him.

And you can’t fix stupid.