I was at Wickenburg Airport for a short time yesterday and was dismayed to see another helicopter pilot practicing autorotations using a left traffic pattern for the taxiway parallel to Runway 23. In Wickenburg, it’s right traffic for Runway 23, keeping the airplanes on the northwest side of the runway. There are fewer houses out that way; a left traffic pattern would have you overflying dozens of homes.

Someone else at the airport told me that the owners of the homes southeast of the runway had asked this pilot several times not to overfly their homes. They were bothered by the noise of his buzzing aircraft just 500 feet over their houses over and over again. He replied that he was supposed to “avoid the flow of fixed wing traffic.” When one of the nicest guys on the airport suggested he fly on the other side, this pilot’s response was, “Fuck you.” Whoa. Seems like someone has an attitude problem.

But is he right? Should he be doing left traffic patterns if the airplanes would be doing right patterns?

The Rules

FAR Part 91.126, “Operating on or in the vicinity of an airport in Class G airspace,” says, in part:

(a) General. Unless otherwise authorized or required, each person operating an aircraft on or in the vicinity of an airport in a Class G airspace area must comply with the requirements of this section.

(b) Direction of turns. When approaching to land at an airport without an operating control tower in Class G airspace —

(1) Each pilot of an airplane must make all turns of that airplane to the left unless the airport displays approved light signals or visual markings indicating that turns should be made to the right, in which case the pilot must make all turns to the right; and

(2) Each pilot of a helicopter or a powered parachute must avoid the flow of fixed-wing aircraft.

To some, it might appear that Part 91.126(b)(2) gives helicopter pilots permission to fly wherever they want in Class G airspace, as long as it’s not anywhere near an airplane. Maybe that’s what our attitude-challenged helicopter pilot at Wickenburg thinks. But I’d argue that it’s simply not true.

Why Avoid the Flow? Why Not Join It?

Wickenburg Airport, from the approach end of Runway 05.

Helicopters are advised to avoid the flow of fixed-wing traffic mostly because of the significant differences in the way they operate. Helicopters are usually slower than airplanes, they tend to operate at lower altitudes, and they don’t need a runway to land or take off. Putting airplanes and helicopters together in a traffic pattern is like mixing oil and water: they just won’t blend.

But does avoiding the flow of fixed wing traffic mean creating a completely separate traffic pattern? Sometimes, it does.

Does it mean making yourself a noisy nuisance over a residential neighborhood on the side of the airport that normally doesn’t have aircraft flying over it? I say it doesn’t.

And what if there aren’t any airplanes in the traffic pattern? I’ll argue that there’s nothing to avoid so why not use their established, community-preferred traffic pattern?

And that was the problem yesterday: the bad attitude pilot was the only aircraft in the traffic pattern for the entire time he was flying yesterday. There was no fixed-wing traffic to avoid.

There was no reason to overfly those homes.

Fly Neighborly

Although I’m not a big fan of Helicopter Association International (HAI), I do want to commend them on their attempts (although usually feeble) to share information that’s useful to the helicopter community. Among that information is “The Fly Neighborly Guide” they offer as a PDF download from their site. Here’s a blurb about the program from their site:

The Fly Neighborly Program addresses noise abatement and public acceptance objectives with programs in the following areas: 

• Pilot and operator awareness
• Pilot training and indoctrination
• Flight operations planning
• Public acceptance and safety
• Sensitivity to the concerns of the community

The point is, lots of people hate helicopters because they’re noisy. (In reality, they’re not all that much more noisy than an airplane. But because they usually fly lower, they seem louder.) By using techniques that help us fly more quietly and avoiding noise-sensitive areas, we’ll blend in with the environmental impact of aircraft traffic much better.

What does that mean to me? Well, here are some of the things I try to do:

• Maintain speed above 80 knots in my R44 to avoid “rotor slap.”
• Not fly low over homes, schools, or businesses.
• Vary the flight path I use to approach or depart the airport.
• When flying traffic patterns, choose a pattern that does not repeatedly overfly the same noise-sensitive areas. (Yes, the other day when I was practicing autorotations at Wickenburg, I shared the same standard traffic pattern with three airplanes.)

I do need to point out here that anyone who buys a home within 3 miles of an airport should expect some level of noise. If you don’t like aircraft noise, don’t buy a home near an airport. Period.

Why I Care

Why should I care that a bad attitude pilot is thumbing his nose (and perhaps making other hand gestures) at people who complain about his inconsiderate flying?

The Airport/Facilities Directory entry for Wickenburg.

Well, it’s like this. Right now, at Wickenburg, there is no published noise abatement procedure. Look in the Airport/Facilities Directory and see for yourself. (Try not to notice that the diagram is inaccurate on so many levels.) That means pilots have the freedom to make their own decisions about approaching and departing the airport. We’re not forced to follow some idiotic plan set forth by an ignorant non-flyer in response to noise complaints.

But if Mr. Bad Attitude keeps ignoring the complaints and overflying the same homes again and again, the complaints will get escalated. I’m not too worried about the town doing anything — they’re extremely ineffective when it comes to solving airport-related problems. But eventually, it’ll get up to the FAA. Enough people know it’s not me — a bright red Robinson R44 looks nothing like a little white Schweitzer 300 — so I won’t get in trouble. But the FAA might actually do something to make the complaints go away. Since Mr. Bad Attitude isn’t technically doing anything wrong, the only way to fix the problem is a noise abatement program. The FAA will push the town to make one and we’ll be stuck with it.

What’s also bad is that his continued inconsiderate behavior makes everyone in the helicopter community look bad — including me and the two other helicopter owners based in town. It could cause problems in Wickenburg or other communities for helicopter pilots and operators. It could affect businesses like mine or emergency services. (Come to think of it, one of the reasons our hospital lost its helicopter medevac base was noise complaints. So if you have a heart attack in Wickenburg, you’ll just have to wait an extra 20-30 minutes for help to come.)

And all this is why I care.

In Summary

When helicopter pilots are advised to “avoid the flow of fixed-wing traffic,” that doesn’t mean we should avoid flying in empty airplane traffic patterns. It means we should avoid flying with airplanes.

It also doesn’t mean we should use FAR 91.126(b)(2) as an excuse to become a nuisance by repeatedly overflying noise-sensitive areas.

If there’s no conflicting aircraft, common sense should prevail.

This afternoon, I got a call from a potential client. He’s the manager of a country club that does catering for weddings and other big events. He wanted to know if it were possible for me to land my helicopter on the country club property after dark, pick up a couple — say a new bride and groom — and fly them around Phoenix for about 45 minutes before dropping them off at a hotel with a helipad or an airport where a limousine would be waiting. He also wanted to know whether it was okay for them to have some wine while aboard the aircraft.

Off the top of my head, I said, yes, we should be able to do that. But then I listed the things I’d have to check out before giving a definitive answer.

I thought this might make a good topic for a blog post for commercial helicopter pilots interested in real life helicopter missions. You see, commercial helicopter flying is not always as easy as picking up two passengers at an airport, flying them around for a while, and returning them to the starting point. So, as an example, I’ll discuss the things that come into play for this particular kind flight.

Landing Zone

Off-airport landings are something I’m accustomed to. Photo by Jon Davison.

First and foremost is the safety of the landing zone. How big is it? Is it level? Are there obstacles such as trees, buildings, or wires? What are my approach and departure paths like? Can it be controlled to prevent onlookers from coming too close or walking behind the aircraft? How about neighbors? Are there homes in the area? Is it close to another airport where air traffic control might be an issue? Since landing and departing will be at night, can the landing zone be properly lit so I can find it and land safely on it?

I made an appointment to meet with the client to see the landing zones he had in mind. Hopefully, one will work. I also checked the location of the country club using the satellite view of Google Maps. Although its golf course is indeed surrounded by homes, there’s also a nearby freeway and shopping center that’s likely to be empty at night. I could see some possible approach and departure paths, but could not judge obstacles, such as light posts or wires.

As for a destination hotel — if one is found, I’ll have to go through the entire process there, too. It’s more likely, however, that I’ll just land them at Deer Valley Airport, which is my home base.

Local Ordinances

Of course, no off-airport landing would be possible without a lot of hoop-jumping if there were a local ordinance that prohibited off-airport landings. Scottsdale has such an ordinance, enacted, primarily, to prevent local helicopter pilots from doing asinine things like landing in residential subdivisions. (I guess it was done one too many times.) Wickenburg’s ordinance isn’t quite as restrictive; it states that landing is possible with the permission of the Police Chief. When I asked the Police Chief about this some years ago, he had no idea what I was talking about.

The client said that the mayor the country club’s city is a member, so if there was an issue, he might be able to get permission on an as-needed basis. But when I hung up the phone with him, I started making other calls. First, the local police, to see if they knew of any ordinance. They directed me to the city’s compliance office. They told me they had no ordinances, but that I should check with the FAA. I already know that the FAA is fine with landing a helicopter on private property, as long as it is done safely and in accordance with any related FARs.

So this would not be an issue for this particular location. No hoop-jumping necessary.

Passenger Loading

The lights of Phoenix are beautiful at night. Photo by Jon Davison.

The client wants to use the helicopter as part of the event’s entertainment. At the predetermined time, the guests would be guided to “the patio” (wherever that is) where they could watch the helicopter come in for a landing. The bride and groom would climb aboard and the helicopter would take off, perhaps doing a quick circle of the area before departing.

This sounds great and its sure to make a memorable wedding party. But passenger loading could be an issue here.

Is the client willing to wait for the helicopter to cool down and shut down before the passengers are loaded? And then wait again while the helicopter starts up, warms up, and spins up before departure? If the wait is okay, the pilot (me) can do the passenger briefing and loading. While this might not make for good entertainment, it is the safest option.

The other option is “hot loading,” where the passengers board the helicopter while the engine is running and blades are spinning. Many people will simply not do hot loading, but I will — provided there’s a qualified ground crew to escort all passengers to their seats and ensure they’re buckled in. That means operating with someone on the ground — likely my husband — who would arrive before me and handle briefing and loading duties.

While you might think I prefer the first option, I actually prefer the second. It minimizes the amount of time I’m on the ground and ensures a qualified person is there to handle my next concern: crowd control.

Crowd Control

I firmly believe that a spinning helicopter is more dangerous on the ground than in the air. My tail rotor is literally invisible when it’s spinning — even at idle speed — and if someone walked into it, they’d be dead. That’s why I always set down in a landing zone with my tail pointed away from where people are most likely to be. Any helicopter pilot who doesn’t do this is looking for trouble.

Unfortunately, when landing in an uncontrolled area, there’s nothing to stop people from running up behind the helicopter. There’s a restaurant in Peoria, AZ that I used to land at for lunch quite often. It’s in a relatively remote area with lots of open desert around it. I always landed just outside the parking area with my tail rotor facing away from the building. The last time I landed there, however, a bunch of kids on off-road motorcycles saw me come in and began swarming around the helicopter as I was shutting down. Good thing my husband was with me to keep them clear. I haven’t gone back since.

When I inspect the landing zone, I’ll try to determine how well it can be controlled. And then I’ll put a plan in place to control it for my arrival. Having a reliable and experienced ground crew person will certainly help when the time comes for me to operate there.

Alcoholic Beverages

The final request that requires research is the glass of wine during the tour. FAR 135.121(a) states:

No person may drink any alcoholic beverage aboard an aircraft unless the certificate holder operating the aircraft has served that beverage.

This means they can’t bring their own alcohol aboard — it’s also why you can’t legally bring your own alcohol aboard an airliner!

If you’re wondering who the “certificate holder” is, well, so am I. It’s either me personally — since I have a single pilot Part 135 certificate and I’m the pilot — or it’s my company, Flying M Air. If it’s me, serving wine while I’m at the controls of a helicopter will be nearly impossible. If it’s my company, I can theoretically have an employee or agent of my company serve the alcohol for me, preferably right before we take off.

If there are any pilots out there who have real knowledge about this, please do use the Comments link or form to share what you know with me. Otherwise, I’ll just ask my FAA Primary Operations Inspector (POI). He’ll either tell me or help me figure it out for myself based on what I know.

One thing I do know: if I can’t legally serve alcohol on the flight, I won’t. No client request is more important than my certificate.

FAR 135.121(b) and (c) offer two other rules regarding alcohol:

(b) No certificate holder may serve any alcoholic beverage to any person aboard its aircraft if that person appears to be intoxicated.
(c) No certificate holder may allow any person to bard any of its aircraft if that person appears to be intoxicated.

That means I can’t serve them if they’re drunk and I can’t even allow them to board the aircraft if they’re drunk. This is something I need to make sure the client knows. It would be a shame if I brought my shiny red helicopter in for a landing at the big party and the bride or groom was too shitfaced from champagne to fly. (It would be a bigger shame if one of them puked on my leather seats.)

The Other Usual Stuff

Every flight has the usual collection of pilot tasks before it can be completed. I’m talking about things like calculating weight and balance, getting weather and NOTAM information, creating a flight plan, preflighting the aircraft. I might want to do a daytime landing at the landing zone in advance, just to make sure I was familiar with it. There’s lots of the usual responsibilities, none of which can be taken lightly for any flight.

This Is What It’s All About

This should give most folks an idea of what goes into planning what seems like a simple mission. Any pilot faced with a client request like this who doesn’t look into these things — at a minimum — is simply not doing his job.

I’ll know by Saturday, when I review the landing zone, whether we’ll be able to work for this client. I hope so. It would be great to have some regular gigs like this throughout the year.

In the first part of this post, I explained the prerequisites to taking the tests you need to take to become a pilot. If you haven’t read that yet, read it now.

In this part, I’ll tell you about the two tests: the knowledge (AKA “written”) test and the practical test (AKA “check ride”). You’ll also find a few links to useful resources to help you pass them.

Written Test

The first of two tests you must pass to become a helicopter pilot is the knowledge test, which is also known as the “written test.” This is the test that has Stu — remember the blog reader from Part I? — so worried.

The written test is proof that you understand all the things you learned in ground school. If you don’t know or understand these things, you won’t pass the test.

The written test isn’t really a written test. It’s a multiple choice test with four possible answers per question. You can get a study guide that actually lists all the questions with their answers. This is possibly the best way to cram for the test — if you like to cram. It’s not the best way to learn the material, though.

Want to see what’s on the test? Download all the questions.

Want to learn? Talk to a flight instructor and other pilots. Watch the videos. Read the AIM. Read articles in Vertical, Rotor & Wing, HeliNews, and even Flight Training. Visit blogs and forums where experienced pilots discuss flying issues. Ask questions; listen to answers. Hang out at airports. Buy a scanner and listen to the local airport chatter.

The written test and ground school knowledge are important . It makes me very sad that Stu (and so many others like him) isn’t taking it as seriously as he should. After all, the first time he gets hit with LTE in a hover, is he going to know how it’s caused and what he can do to stop it? When he does a photo flight with a fattie on board on a hot day in that R22, will he know how to avoid settling with power? Will he understand the danger of thunderstorms or virga or what a lenticular cloud means? Will he know what to expect when flying close over the top of a mountain ridge with a tail wind? Will he be able to read a chart well enough to keep out of a restricted area or learn whether military operations in an MOA affect his operating altitude? Will he bust Class Bravo airspace because he doesn’t know which magic words from ATC grant him entry? When the clutch light flickers on in his R22, will he know what to do?

How can anyone consider himself a pilot if he doesn’t possess the basic knowledge required to be a pilot? Passing a multiple choice test about the basics of flying the aircraft is the least a future pilot should be required to do.

And you must pass the knowledge test before you can move forward to take the big test. FAR Part 61.39, “Prerequisites for Practical Tests,” starts with:

(a) Except as provided in paragraphs (b) and (c) of this section, to be eligible for a practical test for a certificate or rating issued under this part, an applicant must:
(1) Pass the required knowledge test within the 24-calendar-month period preceding the month the applicant completes the practical test, if a knowledge test is required;
(2) Present the knowledge test report at the time of application for the practical test, if a knowledge test is required;

It’s a really good idea to take and pass the knowledge test as soon as you get the required endorsement. It gets a big part of the learning process out of the way, clearing your mind so you can concentrate on the flying and use your knowledge to understand how the flying works.

It also starts a clock ticking: once you pass, you have just 2 years to take and pass practical test. Otherwise, you’ll have to take the written test all over again. How’s that for a motivator?

Check Ride

Once you’ve met all the other requirements above and have passed your written text, you’re ready for the practical test, which is better known as a “check ride” or “check flight.” The practical test is administered by a special examiner who is authorized by the FAA. In some instances, it might be a CFI at your flight school. It could also be someone who works directly or indirectly for the FAA.

I personally believe that a check ride with the FAA or an examiner not employed by your flight school is a better check ride. Your flight school has too much riding on your test and might pass or fail you based on any number of factors other than your knowledge or ability.

Did you pay a flat fee for all your training with a guarantee of completion with a set number of flight hours? Are you near the end of that time? What’s the flight school’s motivation? Do you really want to become a helicopter pilot if you’re not ready? Sadly, a now-defunct flight school that passed too many students before they were ready has gotten a reputation for it. Many of those students, now pilots looking for jobs, aren’t even getting interviews.

Or perhaps the flight school’s enrollment is down and they need your hourly dual rate revenue to pay their bills. What’s the flight school’s motivation? Do you really want to keep financing your flight school?

Before I go any further, I should remind you that before you take your practical test, you need to meet the rest of the requirements of FAR Part 61.39, “Prerequisites for practical tests.” I won’t quote them here; use the link to read them for yourself. In general, no good flight school will sign you off until you meet these requirements. If they do and you go to take the test, you’re likely to have the test stopped before it gets going. That would be a real embarrassment, because it would show the examiner that you didn’t bother to read Part 61.39 and have wasted his time.

The practical test is actually two tests in one. The first part is an oral exam, where the examiner asks a bunch of questions he thinks you need to know answers for. These are usually the same questions covered in the written test — but there’s no multiple choice crutch to lean on. There are also questions specific to the helicopter you’ll be tested in. Better know the engine horsepower, RPM limits, emergency procedures, fuel capacity, best RPM and speed settings to extend your range in autorotation, and just about anything else in the POH. This part of the test can be as short as an hour or as long as three or four. It depends on the examiner and how confident you can make him about your knowledge.

Once the oral part is finished, the flight part begins. FAR Part 61.43, “Practical Tests: General Procedures,” gives a good idea of what the goal is. It starts with:

(a) Except as provided in paragraph (b) of this section, the ability of an applicant for a certificate or rating issued under this part to perform the required tasks on the practical test is based on that applicant’s ability to safely:
(1) Perform the tasks specified in the areas of operation for the certificate or rating sought within the approved standards;
(2) Demonstrate mastery of the aircraft with the successful outcome of each task performed never seriously in doubt;
(3) Demonstrate satisfactory proficiency and competency within the approved standards;
(4) Demonstrate sound judgment; and
(5) Demonstrate single-pilot competence if the aircraft is type certificated for single-pilot operations.

This is the meat of the matter. Does the pilot know what he’s doing? Can he prove it beyond doubt?

The flight part of the test usually includes preflight inspection with questions, examination of aircraft documents, and the flight itself. Then you fly. From the moment you step in to the moment you step out, the examiner is watching you. If he thinks, for even a moment, that you’re unsafe or don’t know what you’re doing, he’ll fail you. If you scare the crap out of him — or even make a big boo-boo — he’ll stop the test.

Want to know what the entire practical test will cover? Download the Practical Test Standards.

Pass it and you’re a pilot.

And That’s All There Is to It

Yes, the heading is a joke. Getting a pilot’s license is not easy. But should it be?

Let’s face it: a pilot flies aircraft over the ground. If he screws up and crashes, he can kill innocent people on the ground as well as his passengers. It’s a heavy responsibility. Don’t you want pilots to know what they’re doing? I do.

Flying is not something to be taken lightly. Want proof? Search this. I’d say that 95% of aviation accidents are due, in one way or another, to pilot error. Don’t think so? Read the reports. I do.

My message for “Stu” is this: If you want to be a pilot, get serious about it. Study hard, learn what pilots need to know. Stop making excuses. Put up or shut up.

Because the last thing the world needs is another “lazy” pilot.

A few weeks ago, I got this e-mail message from a blog reader. In an effort to keep him anonymous, let’s call him Stu (short for student). Here’s what he had to say:

Perhaps you could post an article about the difficulties of initial licensing. I have some 40+ hours of instruction and believe I can fly a R22 quite well. My problem is the written test. I just can not get my arms around studying for and taking it. Partially due to time constraints, partially due to me being much better at practical things than book learning.. and partially of course, laziness.

I know I have to do it.. I just procrastinate a lot and simply have not gotten around to studying.. nor of course taking the test itself.

Any words or advice, thoughts, inspiration (LOL).

I wrote back, telling him that he’d just given me a topic for a blog post. I finally have time to write it.

So allow me to explain what you need to do to become a private helicopter pilot. In this first post, I’ll talk about the pre-test requirements. In the second part, I’ll talk about the tests and link to some useful resources that can help you pass them.

Hours

There’s a lot in that e-mail message, so I’ll start at the top. Stu says he has “some 40+ hours of instruction” and believes he “can fly an R22 quite well.” That’s great. If it’s true, it also makes him a better than average pilot. Most pilots need at least 60 hours of flight time before they’re proficient enough to take a check ride.

FAR Part 61.109, “Aeronautical experience” states, in part:

(c) For a helicopter rating. Except as provided in paragraph (k) of this section, a person who applies for a private pilot certificate with rotorcraft category and helicopter class rating must log at least 40 hours of flight time that includes at least 20 hours of flight training from an authorized instructor and 10 hours of solo flight training in the areas of operation listed in Sec. 61.107(b)(3) of this part, and the training must include at least–
(1) 3 hours of cross-country flight training in a helicopter;
(2) Except as provided in Sec. 61.110 of this part, 3 hours of night flight training in a helicopter that includes–
(i) One cross-country flight of over 50 nautical miles total distance; and
(ii) 10 takeoffs and 10 landings to a full stop (with each landing involving a flight in the traffic pattern) at an airport.
(3) 3 hours of flight training in preparation for the practical test in a helicopter, which must have been performed within 60 days preceding the date of the test; and
(4) 10 hours of solo flight time in a helicopter, consisting of at least–
(i) 3 hours cross-country time;
(ii) One solo cross-country flight of at least 75 nautical miles total distance, with landings at a minimum of three points, and one segment of the flight being a straight-line distance of at least 25 nautical miles between the takeoff and landing locations; and
(iii) Three takeoffs and three landings to a full stop (with each landing involving a flight in the traffic pattern) at an airport with an operating control tower.

The short version of this is that to be a private helicopter pilot, you need 40 hours of flight time, of which 20 must be dual, 10 solo, and 3 cross-country. Stu might meet this requirement.

Training

It isn’t enough to have the hours you need to be a pilot. You must also meet the requirements of FAR Part 61.107, “Flight Proficiency.” It points out, in part:

(a) General. A person who applies for a private pilot certificate must receive and log ground and flight training from an authorized instructor on the areas of operation of this section that apply to the aircraft category and class rating sought.
(b) Areas of operation.
…
(3) For a rotorcraft category rating with a helicopter class rating:
(i) Preflight preparation;
(ii) Preflight procedures;
(iii) Airport and heliport operations;
(iv) Hovering maneuvers;
(v) Takeoffs, landings, and go-arounds;
(vi) Performance maneuvers;
(vii) Navigation;
(viii) Emergency operations;
(ix) Night operations, except as provided in Sec. 61.110 of this part; and
(x) Postflight procedures.

This means it isn’t enough to just get 40 hours that meet the requirements of Part 61.109. You must also get training on all of these areas from an “authorized instructor,” or CFI. If Stu went to a reputable training organization to get his flight training, he might meet all of these requirement’s too.

Ground School

Aeronautical knowledge or “ground school” training is also required, although the FAA does not specify a minimum amount of time. This training helps a pilot understand the important part of flying: aerodynamics, aircraft operations, communications, weather, navigation, flight planning — the list goes on and on.

FAR Part 61.105, “Aeronautical knowledge,” gets pretty specific when it states:

(a) General. A person who is applying for a private pilot certificate must receive and log ground training from an authorized instructor or complete a home-study course on the aeronautical knowledge areas of paragraph (b) of this section that apply to the aircraft category and class rating sought.
(b) Aeronautical knowledge areas. (1) Applicable Federal Aviation Regulations of this chapter that relate to private pilot privileges, limitations, and flight operations;
(2) Accident reporting requirements of the National Transportation Safety Board;
(3) Use of the applicable portions of the “Aeronautical Information Manual” and FAA advisory circulars;
(4) Use of aeronautical charts for VFR navigation using pilotage, dead reckoning, and navigation systems;
(5) Radio communication procedures;
(6) Recognition of critical weather situations from the ground and in flight, windshear avoidance, and the procurement and use of aeronautical weather reports and forecasts;
(7) Safe and efficient operation of aircraft, including collision avoidance, and recognition and avoidance of wake turbulence;
(8) Effects of density altitude on takeoff and climb performance;
(9) Weight and balance computations;
(10) Principles of aerodynamics, powerplants, and aircraft systems;
(11) Stall awareness, spin entry, spins, and spin recovery techniques for the airplane and glider category ratings;
(12) Aeronautical decision making and judgment; and
(13) Preflight action that includes–
(i) How to obtain information on runway lengths at airports of intended use, data on takeoff and landing distances, weather reports and forecasts, and fuel requirements; and
(ii) How to plan for alternatives if the planned flight cannot be completed or delays are encountered.

So it isn’t enough to know how to fly the aircraft. You need to know all the other things that are part of being a pilot. That’s what ground school is about.

There is a way to complete ground school quicker, more conveniently, and probably more cost-effectively: buy a video training course. I used the King Schools course for my primary training as a way to supplement ground school. John and Martha may be among the most corny and/or boring people on the planet, but they do cover all the basics very well. When I used the course back in the late 1990s, it came with a certificate that can could be used as certification that I’d completed ground school training. (Remember that the FAA says a “home study course” is okay.) Of course, your CFI won’t sign off on you unless he knows that you’ve covered all that material and understand it, so don’t be surprised if you still need additional ground school after watching all those videos. Still, when I took the written test right after watching the videos for days on end, I passed easily with a 94.

Endorsements

Before I go any further and start talking about tests, I do need to comment on endorsements or “sign offs.” To solo, you need an endorsement. To take the written test, you need an endorsement. To take a check ride, you need an endorsement.

What is an endorsement? It’s a signed and dated note in your logbook that confirms you’re ready to do whatever the endorsement is good for: solo, take the written test, take the check ride.

Who gives you your endorsements? Usually, it’s your flight instructor, but in some instances, it could be another CFI at your flight school. Good flight schools often require you to take a “stage check” with another CFI before getting an important endorsement. This helps prevent an ineffective CFI from pushing a student forward when he’s not ready. It also helps identify ineffective CFIs and unprepared students.

This is the gotcha that a lot of student pilots don’t get. It isn’t enough to have the 40 hours and meet the requirements of Parts 61.109, 61.105, and 61.107 quoted above. You also have to be able to prove that you have the knowledge you need to pass the written test and that you can perform the maneuvers you’ll be required to perform on a check ride.

And in the real world, 40 hours usually isn’t enough flight time to get the endorsements you need to move forward.

Up Next

In the second part of this article, I’ll tell you about the two tests you need to take and pass to become a private helicopter pilot. I’ll also provide links to some resources you might find helpful for preparing for — and hopefully passing — these tests.

My R44, parked on the side lawn at the Lake Pateros Inn in Washington State. Sadly, heat from my engine browned the grass.

One of the benefits of operating a helicopter is that you can land it almost anywhere. One of the drawbacks of this, however, is that not all landing zones are legal.

The other day, I was asked by a client to find a pickup location for him that was closer to where he was staying than Scottsdale Airport. He suggested two possibilities that I knew I couldn’t use:

• A private helipad at the resort where he’s staying. That helipad is owned by another helicopter operator who gets three times what I do per hour of flight time. They do not allow others to use their helipad.
• A private, residential airport near the resort where he’s staying. They have a strict “no helicopter” policy.

I went through the motions and called the managers of both facilities. I was told what I expected to be told: that I could not use them.

What Do the FARs Say?

Around this time, I commented on Twitter that I was conducting a search. Another pilot, who flies airplanes, wanted to know how I was searching and where legal landing zones were covered in the FARs (Federal Aviation Regulations).

The truth is, they’re not. There’s no FAR that clearly states where you’re allowed to land a helicopter.

Instead, the Aeronautical Information Manual (AIM) offers some clear guidance on where you’re not allowed to land any aircraft. 7-4-6 Flights Over Charted U.S. Wildlife Refuges, Parks, and Forest Service Areas states, in part:

The landing of aircraft is prohibited on lands or waters administered by the National Park Service, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, or U.S. Forest Service without authorization from the respective agency. Exceptions include:

1. When forced to land due to an emergency beyond the control of the operator;
2. At officially designated landing sites; or
3. An approved official business of the Federal Government.

I assume this is in the FARs somewhere — the AIM is generally a plain English translation of most FARs, better organized and easier to read — but I can’t track it down.

So Where Can You Land?

This heli-outing brought three helicopters, including my old R22, out in the desert near the Swansea Townsite.

When I first started flying helicopters, knowing where you were allowed to land in a non-emergency situation was a big deal. Everyone dreams of landing on their best friend’s driveway or backyard. Was it legal? How about showing up at your kid’s soccer game? Dropping off a friend at work in an office park? Stopping in at Krispy Creme for a donut and coffee? Landing along the lakeshore for a quick afternoon swim?

Is any of this legal?

My answer: it depends.

Before you read any farther, understand that I am not a lawyer. I cannot advise you on these matters. If you get in trouble for landing somewhere and use what you read here as a legal defense, you are an idiot and deserve to lose your license. I’m just sharing what I’ve learned through experience. I don’t know all the answers and certainly cannot advise you in your specific situations.

Landing in the Middle of Nowhere

A blast from the past: My old R22 sitting in a wash south of Alamo Lake about a day after it flowed. Hard sand makes a good landing surface.

Keep in mind that I live on the edge of nowhere. Wickenburg is on the northwest end of Maricopa County. There’s not much other than empty desert in most directions. Go southeast and you’ll get to the Phoenix metro area within 30 minutes, but go in almost any other direction and you’ll be driving (or flying) for a while before you get anywhere else.

That said, friends and I have landed our helicopters at many remote patches of desert, both privately owned and owned by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM).

I discovered through telephone calls, an exchange of mail, and a $270 fine that I’m allowed to land on BLM land that’s not Wilderness area as long as I don’t do it with paying passengers on board. Commercial flights must have permits for landing on BLM land. And trust me: BLM will drag its collective butt in getting you a permit once you apply for one. It took 18 months for me to get permission to land at the Swansea Townsite and costs $90/year to maintain that permit. (I’ve landed there once with paying passengers in the past three years; do you think I should renew?)

But land on private land just footsteps away from government-owned land and you’re okay — as long as other factors don’t come into play.

Permissions and Local Ordinances

Parked at the semi-annual Big Sandy Shoot. The event is held on a mile-square parcel of privately-owned land northwest of Phoenix.

What are the other factors?

Well, you need to have permission of the property owner. After all, it is his property. It doesn’t have to be written permission, but if you don’t have permission, you could be prosecuted for trespassing.

You also need to be aware of any local ordinances against landing. Wickenburg has one of these ordinances, although they only seem interested in enforcing it when it’s convenient to them. (This is the case with many of Wickenburg’s rules, especially those regarding zoning.) Scottsdale also has an ordinance.

Moab, UT didn’t have an ordinance until after I landed at a friend’s 2-1/2 acre property there. The cops rolled by and I thought I’d get in trouble, but they just wanted to see the helicopter. A week later, the ordinance came out and was on the front page of the local newspaper. Oh, well.

There are two ways to find out if a locality has an ordinance against helicopters landing within town limits:

• Land there and see if you get in trouble. I don’t recommend this approach, but it can be effective, especially in remote areas where you might not even be seen by anyone on the ground.
• Call ahead and ask. In most cases, they won’t know. You can make a lot of calls and get nowhere. Then you can try the above approach and see where it gets you. Hopefully, not in jail.

Parked in the desert north of Phoenix. Photo by Jon Davison.

Of course, this refers to towns and cities. Within those are subdivisions that may be controlled by written rules (such as that private airport that won’t allow helicopters). And everything is inside a county, which may have its own rules.

Sounds like a pain in the butt? It is. But if you don’t do your homework before you land off-airport, you’re liable to get in deep trouble with the local authorities and FAA. You could have your pilot certificate suspended or even revoked. I don’t know about you, but I have enough time and money invested in my helicopter pilot certificate, aircraft, and business to act wisely. If I can’t find a legal landing zone where I think I need one, I won’t land there.

Please Read This

Before buying my own R44 in 2005, I leased a friend’s. This shot was taken in Congress, AZ, where I attempted to sell helicopter rides a few times.

If you’re landing off-airport, whether you have permission to land at an official helicopter landing zone or you’re just taking a risk landing where you might or might not be allowed to, please, for the sake of all of the helicopter pilots out there, keep these things in mind:

• Only land where its safe. This applies to the terrain of the landing zone itself, as well as your approach and departure routes. Wouldn’t you be embarrassed if you had a dynamic rollover in your buddy’s backyard?
• Land at the edge of activity — or farther away, if possible. I used to do rides at the Mohave County Fair. My landing zone was at the far end of the event, beyond the carnival rides. There were many people at the event who didn’t even know there was a helicopter around. I’ve also landed at remote restaurants far enough away that no one even heard me approach.
• Only land where you can secure the landing zone while the helicopter is running. I’ll land places where there may be people on the ground if I have a second person on board with me to get out and keep the landing zone clear of curious bystanders. But if I’m alone, I wouldn’t even think of landing where someone might approach the helicopter while it’s running. Do you really think it would be a good idea to land at your kid’s soccer game? What if a bunch of those kids ran toward you from behind and ducked under the tailcone? Do I have to paint a bloody picture for you?
• Do not overfly people, vehicles, animals, or buildings at low-level. This is for courtesy and safety. Engine failure on approach or departure means a possibly messy crash into whatever’s below you. Crashing into an empty parking lot is very different from crashing into a crowded soccer field or county fair arcade. (By the same token, anyone who buys a home within a mile of the approach/departure end of any airport runway should have his/her head examined.)
• Be courteous to people on the ground. Don’t spend more time than necessary circling the landing zone at low level. Once you know your approach and departure routes, get it on the ground. Don’t give bystanders a reason to complain. That’s why localities make these ordinances. Because some jackass pilot annoyed just the right number of people to get the ordinance voted in.
• Do not draw attention to yourself. Sure, it’s cool to land off-airport and yeah, everyone will be jealous. But aren’t you above all that? If you can land and depart in such a way that no one even knows how you arrived, that’s even cooler.
• Do not walk away from the aircraft with the engine running and blades spinning. I can’t believe I have to include this no-brainer on a list, but here it is, for the folks who have no brain and actually leave a running helicopter unattended.
• If asked to leave, do so quickly and without argument. Be apologetic. Be nice. Don’t be an asshole.

The rest of us are depending on you to act wisely so the FAA doesn’t add a rule that prevents us from landing off airport.

My Advice

Parked at the house of some friends just outside Wickenburg town limits. They cleared a small helipad up there for me to use. Photo by Jon Davison.

My advice is that you don’t land anywhere where safety or legality may be an issue. Do your homework and get the information you need to establish whether your landing zone is legal.

Or simply land at the nearest airport. That’s what I’ll be doing for my upcoming charter flight.

One of the things I’ve said again and again is that it’s nearly impossible to load a Robinson R44 helicopter out of CG. Nearly, but not completely.

What is CG?

For those of you unfamiliar with the term CG, it stands for center of gravity. All aircraft have a specific center of gravity or point at which they could (theoretically) be lifted and hung level. While an aircraft doesn’t need to be in exact balance to fly, there are limitations to which it can be loaded out of balance. These limitations form an envelope of acceptable loading and if you’re loaded within this envelope, you’re said to be within CG or simply in balance. The aircraft controls are rigged with this in mind.

If you load an aircraft out of CG, you’re asking for trouble. For example, if I load my helicopter too heavy on one side, I could run into trouble in a turn by not being able to move the cyclic enough in the opposite direction to come out of the turn. After all, all controls have limits, normally defined by a physical stop. Running out of right cyclic while trying to come out of a left turn would be very scary indeed. Of course, I probably wouldn’t get to that point because I’d feel the problem as soon as I pulled up into a hover — I simply wouldn’t be able to keep the aircraft from drifting left.

[Note to all you flight instructors out there; if I completely mangled this description -- since I'm not a CFI -- feel free to step in to clarify in the Comments. This is my understanding after 10 years and 2,000+ flying hours, but I never had to teach it to anyone.]

Pilots are required to have an aircraft Weight and Balance (W&B) calculation on board for every flight. This is part of the Federal Aviation Regulations (FARs) in the U.S. In non-commercial flight, it’s usually enough to have the W&B for the empty aircraft. But in commercial flight, there are usually requirements for an individual W&B to be calculated for each flight with the given load.

So yes, when you fly on a commercial airliner, there’s a computer program somewhere that’s spitting out a W&B calculation for your flight. Your pilot has it in his possession in the cockpit.

Now you might say, “Hey, wait a minute. How do they know what I weigh?” They don’t. They’re allowed to use estimates. It all depends on the airline’s Operating Specifications (Ops Specs), which are established with the FAA.

I have Ops Specs, too, but I’m not allowed to estimate for my Part 135 Charter work. That’s why I ask for the name and weight of each passenger when I book a flight.

Four Fatties is Too Many

When I asked for names and weights yesterday while booking what was supposed to be a 2-hour aerial survey charter, I got three weights that I knew would be trouble:

A: 240 lbs
B: 220 lbs
C: 195 lbs

That’s 655 pounds of passengers alone.

Add the pilot (who is trying hard not to reveal her weight; don’t do the math, guys!) and you could only put on about an hour and 20 minutes worth of fuel to stay below the 2500 lbs max gross weight — the absolute maximum weight of the aircraft at takeoff time — limitation of my Robinson R44 Raven II.

Of course, the situation gets worse when you factor in the simple fact that all passengers lie about their weight. Every single one of them. If I put a scale out and made them stand on it, I guarantee anyone over 200 lbs. has shaved at least 10 pounds off their weight when reporting it. They either don’t figure the weight of their clothes or they’re in denial about their weight or they’re afraid that I’ll say they weigh too much. Even folks under 200 lbs are guilty of this. So I routinely add 10 pounds for each passenger. That 30 pounds corresponds to 5 gallons of 100LL fuel or 15-20 minutes of cruise flight.

Since I’m really supposed to have 20 minutes more fuel on board than I expect to need — per FAA reserve requirements — I was really sunk. Apparently, I’d be able to load up my passengers and just enough fuel to take us on a brief flight around the departure airport.

This is just the weight portion of the equation, which is easy enough to do. Add empty aircraft weight to passenger, baggage, and pilot weight. Then add the weight of required fuel. If the number exceeds 2500 lbs, something’s got to come off the aircraft. It can’t be the pilot and it can’t be the fuel required to complete the mission. Simple as that.

How the CG Stacks Up

While I could have done the math in my head, I did it as part of a complete CG calculation. It’s a pain in the butt do to one of those manually, but I have a spreadsheet solution that I worked up to do it for me. I punch in the weights and amounts of fuel and it draws the CG envelope with points for takeoff weight and empty fuel weight. So while manually doing this task would likely take 15-20 minutes of calculator punching, I can do it in about 30 seconds. I can also easily play “what if” by changing fuel quantities and moving the passengers into different seats.

Here’s what I got for the proposed flight and 2 hours of fuel on board:

Note that both points (square and triangle) are outside the boundaries of the CG envelope. The red line indicates the rotor mast. The points clearly indicate that the CG is way forward. In other words, I’m front-heavy. If I pick up to a hover, I’m likely to start drifting forward immediately. I may hit the back stop of the cyclic when I try to stop that forward motion. In other words, I won’t be able to stop.

Of course, the aircraft is also 100 lbs over weight.

Just for grins, I moved the passengers around in a what-if scenario. I’d put the biggest guy up front, since that’s where the leg room is. After all, maybe he’s not fat. Maybe he’s a former professional basketball player. It doesn’t matter for my calculation how tall a person is — all I care about is weight. But if he’s got long legs, he’s likely to be miserable in the back seat.

So I put the light guy up front and got something like this:

A little better, but not safe or legal. But I kept playing. I really wanted to do this flight. The only thing left to fiddle with was the fuel, so I started off-loading fuel on my worksheet until I got within weight limitations. I needed to drop 99 pounds to get down to 2500 takeoff weight. That’s 16.5 gallons or about an hour’s worth of fuel. This what-if scenario would produce be for a short flight, with only 56 minutes of fuel on board:

And this is where the sad truth of the matter emerged. It didn’t matter how little fuel I had on board — we would always be out of CG for this flight. Too many fatties on board. Both points remain outside the envelope.

I called the client back and told him the problem. I said that together, we weighed too much. I gave him two options: leave one of the passengers behind or fly with a company that had larger aircraft. I suggested a company based in Scottsdale. He wasn’t happy, but he understood.

I’ll be interesting to see if the big fatty (A in my list above) gets left behind. If he does, we’ll be good to go — with full tanks, as you can see here:

I realized this morning that I never did report on my check ride. When I mentioned that I was prepping for it, I promised a report the next day. That was a week ago.

In my defense, I’ve been unreasonably busy. Here’s a rundown of how I spent the past seven days.:

Friday I’ve Got Flying on My Mind

On Friday morning, I took my Part 135 check ride with an FAA examiner. It was a non-event. I didn’t fly as well as I wanted to — I guess having an FAA inspector sitting next to you while you’re flying and wondering what he was going to do to play with your head (think pulling circuit breakers, chopping the throttle, etc.) is enough to make me a nervous wreck. But I flew good enough. And once I realized the test part was over, I actually flew very well. I want to write more about this, but don’t have the time right now.

When it was over and I put the helicopter away, I had to start prepping for another round of house guests. I ran around like a nut, taking care of errands and prepping my office for use as a second guest room. I was still at it when my husband arrived with the house guests: his mother and her friend.

Saturday at Buckeye

Saturday was our big annual Buckeye gig. This was our fifth year at the Buckeye Air Fair and I hope I can do it for 15 years. I enjoy it so much. I do cheap helicopter rides priced low enough that folks can (and do) bring their kids. I think I flew just as many kids under 15 as I did adults. One flight was just three kids aged maybe 4 to 7. It was nonstop flying from 9:30 AM, when the first takers climbed on board to 3:15 PM, a full hour and a quarter after the end of the event. I had to shut down once for fuel and a bathroom break, but I didn’t even get much to eat.

I wanted to write about that, too — especially about the flight down from Wickenburg — but I just haven’t had time. Now the memories aren’t quite as fresh and I don’t think I could write something interesting about it.

Sunday’s Road Trip, with Helicopters and Big Band Music

On Sunday, I was on the road at 7:15 AM, heading west in my little Honda S2000. Road trip. I had to go to Ventura for a week for work, but I wanted to stop at Anaheim on the way to check out Heli Expo.

The show was at least three times the size of the last one I’d gone to, which was back in 2004 in Las Vegas. It was like a candy store for rotor-heads like me, with millions of dollars in hardware sitting out on plush carpeting for us to caress and drool over. And climb on board to sit in cockpits. I didn’t take many pictures — it was just to damn crowded.

One of the highlights was meeting a Twitter friend, Keith Gill. Keith flies the big iron — including Air Cranes — all over the world. He’d just come in from a firefighting gig in Australia and was prepping for another gig somewhere else. Keith writes a blog called “Helicopter Pilot, Will Travel” with lots of great, real-life stories about his flying and travel experiences. I highly recommend it for anyone interested in what being a helicopter pilot is all about.

Another highlight was meeting Dennis Raubenheimer of HeliNews. I’d written an article for them at it appeared in the current issue. He had two copies for me and I eagerly opened one as soon as I had it in my hot little hands. I was thrilled to see that they’d used all of the photos I sent, many of which featured my helicopter. My only regret is that the magazine is based in Australia and few U.S. pilots (or helicopter operators interested in hiring pilots) would see it. Can’t wait to hand off a copy to Ed, my local mechanic, who is featured in a bunch of the photos.

After leaving the show at 5 PM, I took a roundabout route up to Burbank, successfully avoiding any Oscars traffic in the Hollywood area. I was meeting another Twitter friend, SaxDiva (Leanne), for the first time. She’s a college professor who teaches business by day and plays saxophone and other woodwind instruments in the evening. She was doing a big band gig at a Burbank restaurant called Victorio’s. I’d been wanting to meet her for a while and we finally connected. Another friend of mine, Deb Shadovitz, joined me for dinner. Leanne sat with us between sets and we got to meet a bunch of the other band members, including a singer who sounded an awful lot like Tony Bennett. There’s nothing quite like good food and good music at the end of the day. If you live in the Burbank, CA area, I highly recommend Victorio’s on a Sunday evening for a casual night out with live music and dancing.

From there, it was a nightime drive to Ventura. I only made one wrong turn getting on the freeway. I was in my room, 400+ road miles from home, ready to pass out, by 10:15 PM.

Talk about a long day.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday: Work, Work, Work

I spent much of the first three days of the week in a soundproofed booth, recording a new video for Lynda.com. The rooms are like isolation chambers that completely shut out the sound from outside them. The work is pretty basic, but often frustrating as I trip over my own tongue to get the words out. I’m not really at liberty to say what the course is about yet — I’d rather keep it a surprise to the folks who don’t already know. (No spoilers in the comments, please!)

We did the live action footage yesterday. That’s when I get dolled up with makeup, etc. and talk to a camera. I was fumbling through the takes and was starting to think I’d never get it right when I absolutely nailed the last one. What a relief!

The Week’s Not Over

The week has two more days left in it and I’ll be working in Ventura both days. I think I’ll need both of them to get the material recorded. If I finish before noon on Friday, I’ll drive home. If I finish after 3 on Friday, I’ll spend the night here again. If I finish sometime between noon and 3, I’ll make a decision then.

At home, Mike is entertaining our house guests. They leave on Monday. I have nothing scheduled next week, but I know I’ll be doing at least one flight, probably to Sedona. I already have a flight booked for the week after that, too.

Too much to do. Too little time. It seems to be the story of my life.

I need a vacation!

Some of you may know that I hold what’s called a “Single Pilot Part 135” certificate. This is an FAA certificate that allows me to perform operations that a regular Part 91 pilot can’t perform. For example, I can pick you up at Airport A and drop you off at Airport B. I can also take you for a sightseeing tour more than 25 miles from our starting point. This might not seem like a big deal, but it’s very difficult — if not downright impossible — to build a business in aviation without the capabilities offered by Part 135.

There are three kinds of Part 135 certificate: Single Pilot, Single PIC (I think that’s what it’s called), and Basic. Single Pilot means there’s just one pilot doing all the Part 135 work. I can have two pilots in my company, but only one of them — me — would be able to do Part 135 flying. The other would have Part 91 limitations. A Single PIC is for companies with aircraft that require two pilots; one is always the pilot in command, but the second officer could be any qualified pilot. A Basic Part 135 certificate is not very basic at all. It allows multiple pilots in a company to operate under Part 135. It also requires all kinds of paperwork, training programs, and personnel.

I was a Part 135 pilot when I worked at the Grand Canyon. The company I worked for did all operations under Part 135 and had a basic certificate. I took my first Part 135 check ride with their check pilot. It wasn’t a huge deal.

When I ordered my R44, I applied for a Single Pilot Part 135 certificate. In February 2005, I took my first check ride for that certificate. Since then, I’ve taken a check ride with an FAA inspector every February. My 2009 check ride is tomorrow.

The check ride is like any other commercial check ride. There’s an oral part that lasts 1-2 hours. Then there’s a flight part that lasts about an hour. I’m expected to get all the important questions right and to fly safely, to commercial helicopter pilot standards.

Every year, the flights get easier. I don’t think it’s because they’re going easy on me. I think it’s because I’m getting to be a better, more confident pilot.

I now have over 800 hours on my R44 and I’ve flown just about every one of them. There’s something magical about flying the same aircraft all the time. You get to know its little quirks. And you can fly it without thinking — it’s as if it’s an extension of my hands and feet. I climb in, strap myself in, start the engine, and fly. It does what I tell it to do without me laboring over it. That’s a really great feeling.

Anyway, one of the reasons I haven’t been blogging as regularly as I usually do lately is because I’m prepping for my check ride. Cramming. I can never remember weather minimums — we don’t have much weather here in AZ — and I have to try again to remember them for tomorrow. Not that it matters much. The rules for airplanes don’t apply the same way for helicopters. But I’ll try to remember and hopefully get it right when I’m asked.

The rest should be pretty easy.

I’ll let you know how I did tomorrow afternoon.

Yesterday’s dramatic landing of an Airbus plane in the Hudson River between New York and New Jersey has put the topic of bird strikes on everyone’s mind. As usual, the media is spinning stories about it, apparently to generate the fear that sells newspapers, gets listeners, and keeps viewers glued to the television set.

Pilots — the people who know aviation a lot better than the average news reporter — also know a bit about bird strikes.

Bird Strikes are Not That Rare

The truth of the matter is that bird strikes aren’t nearly as rare as many people think. I can think of five bird strike incidents that touched my life:

• Years ago, on a Southwest Airlines flight taking off from Burbank, our plane flew through a flock of white birds. It was nighttime and I don’t know what the birds were — seagulls? — but I clearly saw them in the glow of the plane’s lights, flying past the wings as we climbed out. When we landed in Phoenix and I left the plane, I glanced through the open cockpit door and saw the blood on the outside of the windscreen. Bird strike.
• On my first day of work as a pilot at the Grand Canyon, one of the other pilots had a bird strike during a tour. The bird had passed through the lower cockpit bubble and landed in a bloody heap on the pilot’s lap. He flew back with the bird there and a very distraught front seat passenger beside him. The cockpit bubble needed replacement, of course.
• While waiting at the Grand Canyon for my charter passengers to complete an air tour with one of the helicopter operators there, the helicopter my passengers was on suffered a bird strike. The pilot calmly reported it as she flew in. When she landed, there was bird guts and blood at the top center of the helicopter’s bubble. She’d been lucky. The helicopter, an EC130, has a central intake for the turbine engine and the bird hadn’t been sucked in.
• On my very first rides gig with my R44 helicopter, I was taking a group of three passengers for an 8-minute tour around a mountain near Aguila, AZ when I heard a loud clang. Instruments okay, controls felt fine, passengers weren’t reacting. I didn’t know what it was until I landed. That’s when one of my ground crew pointed out the dent in my landing gear’s fairing. My first (and hopefully, only) bird strike had been a non-event for me, but likely a lot more serious for the bird. (Of course, I wasn’t very happy to get a dent on an aircraft only 11 hours old.
• When a friend of mine took me up in her Decathalon airplane for a little aerobatic demonstration, we hit a bird on takeoff. It went right into the engine at the base of the prop and we instantly smelled cooking bird. My friend climbed enough to circle back and land safefly at the airport. She shut down the engine and climbed out. I watched from the passenger seat as she pulled the remains of a relatively small bird out of the cooling fin area of the engine. After discarding the bird bits, she climbed back in, started up, and we took off again.

That’s five examples of bird strikes I had firsthand knowledge of. In three of those instances, I was on board an aircraft that struck one or more birds. So when people seem amazed that an airliner hit a bird or two, I’m not amazed at all.

According to Wikipedia’s Bird Strike entry:

The first reported bird strike was by Orville Wright in 1905, and according to their diaries Orville “…flew 4,751 meters in 4 minutes 45 seconds, four complete circles. Twice passed over fence into Beard’s cornfield. Chased flock of birds for two rounds and killed one which fell on top of the upper surface and after a time fell off when swinging a sharp curve.”

I’d venture to guess that it happens to at least one airliner every single day.

Bird Strikes Rarely Cause Crashes

The media would like you to think that bird strikes cause crashes. They can, of course — yesterday’s Airbus ditching proved that. They can even cause fiery crashes with deaths. The media wants you to be afraid — very afraid.

But as my above-listed examples also prove, bird strikes can be non-events, often without causing any damage at all to the aircraft.

So what’s an air traveler to do? Worry that his next flight might end with a swim in an icy river or a fireball death? Or stop worrying about it?

What do you think?

On a more personal note: I’m glad the pilot of US Airways Flight 1549 didn’t attempt a landing at Teterboro. My sister lives in an apartment building on the approach end of one of the runways there. A crash there wouldn’t have had a happy ending.

For the past few years, I’ve been using iPilot.com as a source for my aeronautical charts. I subscribe to the charts I want, providing a credit card number up front. When the new chart is available, it’s automatically shipped to me and my card is charged for the amount due. The service is very good and very reliable. I always get the new charts before the old charts expire. The prices are slightly discounted and, for regular charts, shipping is free.

Shipping is not free, however, for the Airport/Facilities Directory (A/FD) — that green book with information about airports. Although I seldom refer to this book, I’m required by the FAA to have a current one covering my area of flight on board my aircraft for every Part 135 flight — which is pretty much every flight I do. The books cost $4.45 each. Shipping, however, is another $4.80. That brings the total to $9.35.

Every 56 days.

It’s a tough nut to swallow. After all, it’s a book I rarely refer to which rarely changes. Yet I’m required to buy it every 56 days. It’s an operating cost — one of the smaller costs that make owning and operating a helicopter charter business so costly. And yes, that might not seem like much, but when you have 20-40 of these stupid little expenses, they really add up.

I’ve ordered charts from NACO — that’s the National Aeronautical Charting Office of the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) in the past. Although they sell charts at list price, they don’t charge for shipping. They also don’t charge for shipping non-chart items like the A/FD or similarly bulky Terminal Procedures Publications (TPPs).

But, as I discovered today, they do discount items when you buy subscriptions. A subscription for an A/FD is 7 editions — basically a full year. A subscription for a Sectional chart is 4 editions — basically two full years.

So, for example, I can subscribe to 7 editions of the Southwest A/FD for a total of $27.02. That’s $3.86 each. Shipping is included. So I save about $5.49 per 56-day cycle. Or $38.43/year.

There is a downside to this. Two of them, really:

• You must pay for an entire subscription up front. There are no refunds. So rather than pay each time an item is shipped, it’s all paid for in advance.
• You must renew the subscription manually when it expires. NACO will send you a reminder via e-mail 30 days in advance so you don’t forget, but it is slightly less convenient.

Today I switched my A/FD subscription from iPilot.com to NACO’s online ordering service. I’m keeping my charts with iPilot.com, at least for now. I’ll wait and see how well NACO handles the subscription before I make any more changes. I wouldn’t be saving that much money on a chart subscription and I rather like the convenience of iPilot’s system.

One more thing I should mention…you can download pages from the A/FD or TPP publications for free on an as-needed basis. Although this would not satisfy my requirements for the A/FD, it’s certainly handy for folks needing airport diagrams and instrument approaches. Most of us don’t need them all, right?

If you haven’t checked out the NACO site, I recommend doing so. There’s a lot of information there. Sure, it’s not a pretty site, but you know it’s accurate because it is the source.

On Saturday, I received FAA form 1800-31 in the mail. Titled “Airport Activity Survey (by Selected Air Carriers),” it’s headed up with the following description as part of its Paperwork Reduction Act notice:

Submission of this form is voluntary. The purpose of this collection is to capture passenger enplanement data to be used to allocate Federal funds to eligble airports. The public reporting burden for this collection of information is estimated to average 1 hour and 30 minutes per response.

The form requests me to enter the names, states, airports, and airport identifiers for all airports where I picked up passengers for on demand commercial operations. For each airport listed, I need to provide a count of the passengers I picked up.

To gather this information, I’ll need to go through my aircraft logs for 2007 and look at each flight conducted. If it was a revenue flight, I need to note where I picked up the passengers and how many passengers I picked up. I then need to tally these for each airport and summarize it on the form. Ninety minutes sounds about right for this chore.

Although this task is voluntary — frankly, I don’t think I bothered last year — I’m looking forward to doing it this year. It might be the bean counter in me — once an accountant, always an accountant. But there are two good reasons why it interests me more this year:

• A line-by-line review of my log books helps me to remember individual flights. I’m in the process of drawing together material for a book about my flight experiences and I’m sure I’ll be reminded of a few flights that are interesting enough to write about.
• I’m curious to learn which airports I did the most business at last year. I’m pretty damn sure it wasn’t Wickenburg. Hell, I picked up more passengers in Buckeye in one day than I did during a whole year at Wickenburg.

Not Wickenburg? you may ask. How can that be? Aren’t you based there?

Yes, I’m based at Wickenburg. But sadly, very little of my business originates here. The vast majority of my revenue comes from flights out of Deer Valley, Scottsdale, and Sky Harbor, with the big revenue charters originating in places like Page and Yuma. Try as I might to market my services here in Wickenburg, the population simply isn’t interested. I’m probably too costly for most of the fixed income folks who live here, while the folks who don’t worry about money would prefer a pickup from a turbine helicopter based in Scottsdale. (How’s that for ironic?)

I’ve actually gotten to the point where I don’t bother marketing much in Wickenburg anymore. Sure, my original tri-fold brochure is still out there. Why not? I have about 10,000 copies of it left. It emphasized my Wickenburg tours and, when I realized that my market was in the Phoenix area, I had it redesigned to emphasize tours from there. The leftover copies of the original are in my hangar, slowly making their way out into brochure racks around town.

And this year, I pulled the plug on my local Yellow Pages ad.

I’m even in the process of turning off my local phone number, preferring my cell phone for all communications with current and future clients.

It’s odd, in a way. I’m the only aircraft charter operator based in Wickenburg. The town has a very nice little airport that recently got a bunch of funding from the Federal Government that added 1000 feet to its runway. But when finally given the opportunity to set up an office on airport property, I turned it down. I, like many other business owners (or potential business owners) here, have learned that dealing with the Town can be a nightmare of bullshit politics conducted by men who get their kicks controlling this insignificant corner of the world. They have no regard for the future of the airport — a fact they’ve made clear by allowing housing on three of the airport’s four sides, including less than 4000 feet from the approach end of Runway 23. Why would anyone in their right mind put up a building or hangar or anything else at an airport that’s likely to be closed in 10 or 15 years due to residential encroachment and the accompanying complaints? Or, for that matter, sign a land lease agreement that can be cancelled at any time on the whim of the Mayor or a Council member?

So my business languishing, as far as Wickenburg is concerned, but doing quite well everywhere else. And that’s unfortunate for Wickenburg. Not only is the Town losing out on sales tax revenue generated by my scenic tours, but FAA Form 1800-31 will not indicate Wickenburg as one of my major operating airports.

And if the only charter operator based in Wickenburg has more passenger operations at other airports, then how many passenger operations will be recorded for Wickenburg’s final tally? And how will that affect future airport funding?

I’m learning not to care.

I promise to spend more time at the keyboard tomorrow.

Here’s the TFR graphic for the Super Bowl. As you can see, Wickenburg (E25 in the northwest) is one of the few airports outside the forbidden circle that marks a 30-mile radius from the stadium in Glendale.

I just spoke to my FAA guy in Scottsdale and received confirmation that the only flights allowed within the circle after noon on game day will be police and security aircraft. Glendale Airport will be closed to all traffic. And they’ll definitely be writing up violations for the folks who bust that circle.

What does this mean? Well, it means that although I can fly all day out of Wickenburg if I stay to the north and west, I’m certainly not going to be ferrying folks around Phoenix. This is a good thing — I was really starting to get worried about dealing with security anyway.

It’ll be interesting to see how many F-16s get scrambled to chase down Cessnas that day.

I have a great gig lined up the day before in Parker, AZ. Maybe I’ll just spend an extra day there.

On Saturday evening, I did my first photo flight that required a TSA waiver.

As most pilots should know, there is a temporary flight restriction (TFR) over certain sporting events. I can’t remember the specifics, but college football games definitely fall into the category.

I’d been contacted by a photographer from Minnesota who needed to take some aerial photos of the December 1 football game at Sun Devils Stadium in Tempe, home of ASU. The flight required a waiver from the TSA to enter the airspace.

Getting the Waiver

Getting the waiver isn’t difficult, but it does require some effort and a lot of patience. Start by going to the TSA/FAA Waiver and Authorization page on the TSA Web site. You’ll register as a user and log in. You’ll then have to provide information about the event and why you want a waiver. Be prepared to enter information about the pilot and all passengers, including pilot certificate numbers and social security numbers. Click the button to submit the information.

You’ll see a page telling you that you need to fax TSA an authorization letter. This is a letter from the folks that manage the venue that says they know you’re coming and have given you permission to operate. TSA will not grant a waiver without this so don’t skip this step.

Now wait while the TSA does all their background checks.

A few days — and I do mean few — before the event, you’ll get a fax or e-mail with the waiver document. It includes an authorization number and a bunch of other info about the waiver.

You’re Not Done Yet

If you’re a trusting soul, you might believe you’re all done and clear to enter the airspace. Not so fast! As my client warned me, local air traffic control sometimes has no idea that you got a waiver.

On the day of the event, start by calling the Flight Service Station at 800-WX-BRIEF. Talk to a briefer. Tell him your name and N-Number and let him know about your operation. Give him any info he wants. He might not want any, but it’s important to get this call on record.

Next, call the tower for the controlling airspace. In my situation, Sun Devils Stadium is within the Phoenix Class Bravo airspace, so I called Phoenix tower. Well, I didn’t at first — the phone number doesn’t seem to be listed anywhere. So I called Sky Harbor Airport and talked to someone in “Air Side Operations.” He called the tower and called me back with a fax and phone number. I faxed the waiver (twice, by accident; don’t ask), then followed up with a phone call. I told the controller what I was planning: several flights in the vicinity of the stadium before and during the game.

“You know the stadium is on the approach path for runways 25, right?” the controller said.

“Yes,” I replied (see image below).

“If you’re too close, we might have to ask you to move to the south when a plane is coming in.”

I assured her that I was prepared to do anything they needed me to do.

As shown here in this GoogleMaps image, Sun Devils Stadium is on the approach to the south side of Sky Harbor International Airport.

Finally, remember to bring a copy of the waiver with you, just in case someone asks to see it. You’re required to have it with you during the flight.

Dodging Jets

My Saturday flight was delayed until the absolute last minute. The weather all day was rainy and windy, with low clouds and bad flying conditions. My client had flown in from Minnesota that morning. He called several times throughout the day. Finally, at 4 PM, he gave me the green light. He wanted me at Sky Harbor in time for sunset.

By that time, the weather in Wickenburg was much improved, with blue skies to the west and overhead. Mike and I headed out at top speed, racing with the sun. We landed at Cutter. Mike got out and took the front passenger door off and went into the FBO with it. He returned moments later with my client. To save time, I didn’t even shut down.

After a quick safety briefing — the guy has probably been in more types of helicopters than I have — we took off to the stadium. I reminded the tower that I had a waiver. I was told to proceed east, remaining south of the runways and to let them know when I was ready to turn north and get on station.

The sun had just set behind a partly cloudy western horizon when we were ready to get into position. It was 5:30. The game was scheduled to start at 6 PM. The stadium was half-full and both teams were warming up on the field.

That’s when the fun began. I was literally right in the path of landing aircraft, including some heavy metal. Since I was just below the altitude of approaching aircraft, wake turbulence was a real issue. Every few minutes, the tower and I would have an exchange like this:

“Helicopter Zero-Mike-Lima, traffic three miles to the east is an Airbus heavy landing at the south complex.”

I’d look and see landing lights coming right at me. “Zero-Mike-Lima has the traffic in sight.”

“Helicopter Zero-Mike-Lima, retain visual separation from the traffic. Caution wake turbulence.”

“Zero-Mike-Lima.”

Depending on where we were, and how close the plane was, I’d react. Either I’d continue on a slow pass along the east side of the stadium, 600-800 feet up or I’d break off the pass, dropping altitude to gain speed and move to the south. After moving out of the way, I’d maneuver slowly out there until the landing plane was abeam the stadium, then zip back in for another pass.

When I say this happened about 20 times during 2 separate 20-minute flights, I’m not exaggerating. I was the fly dodging the big metal fly swatters. At night.

(In all honesty, it’s a lot easier to see other traffic at night because of their landing lights. It’s just not always easy to judge distances.)

My client was extremely understanding and patient. He was familiar with the danger of wake turbulence. I’d been warned about it by my first flight instructor and that was as much as I wanted to know about it. I never wanted to experience it firsthand. So I was careful and we didn’t get into any.

At one point, the tower asked how much longer we’d be. My client held up a hand with five fingers. “Five minutes,” I reported. I soon realized why he was asking. The planes started coming continuously, giving us few chances for additional passes.

Finally, after one good slow pass, my client announced he was done.

The tower was just telling a Boeing 737 on final where we were. When he told us about the Boeing, I was already on my way back. I asked permission to land and was cleared, told to stay south of the runway. The Boeing passed us on the ground just as I started my descent over the FedEx ramp.

My client left me and Mike returned with the door. We flew back to Wickenburg in the darkness, not seeing stars in the clear night sky until we were well past the bright lights of Phoenix.

I”ve owned a condo in Wickenburg for the past eight or so years. It was the first non-stock investment I made when I started making decent money. I figured that real estate is always a good investment, and it would be nice to have a property that someone else paid for. So I bought the condo — which had been previously occupied by a single renter for 11 years — and put it up for rent.

The condo isn’t anything special. It’s two bedrooms, one bath, with a kitchen that’s separated from the living room by a breakfast bar. Total square feet is about 900. The big living room window faces out to the parking lot, a park where there are ball fields and the town pool, and the mountains. The bedroom windows face out on another parking lot and route 93, which is the main thoroughfare between Phoenix and Las Vegas for cars and trucks. The condo property includes a well-maintained swimming pool, a not-so-well-maintained spa, and mailboxes. (A big deal in a town that’s only had mail delivery for about 15 years. The place is a short walk to a supermarket and other shopping and is well within walking distance to two schools.

I put it up for rent within a month of closing on it and had a tenant within a month. Thus began my long career as a landlord.

Being a Landlord Sucks

Being a landlord is not a job for the faint of heart. Although most tenants show at least some level of responsibility, there are always a few in the crowd who will treat your property like it belongs to their worse enemy. Some tenants go out of their way to find things to complain about — one family complained so many times about how the shower door didn’t roll properly that Mike and I went to the apartment, removed the shower door, and replaced it with a curtain. (Let’s see you have problems with that.) And did I mention that the average tenant isn’t interested in living in the same place for 11 years? I witnessed a parade of four tenants in less than five years, with lots of cleaning and painting and empty unit time between them. Anyone who thinks being a landlord manager is an easy way to make a living is fooling himself. It’s a pain in the ass.

To make matters worse, I had another good year and bought another property. That one was a 3-lot parcel with a 4-unit studio apartment building and two bedroom, two bath house on it. What the hell was I thinking? I multiplied my single unit landlord headaches by five. Now there was always an empty unit somewhere, a unit to clean, a tenant complaint to deal with, an apartment to advertise and show.

I won’t go into the gory details. I’ll just say that after trying a rental agent (who took a fully-occupied property and had it down to just one tenant in four months) and letting Mike manage the place for a short while, I got smart and sold the larger of the two properties, leaving me with the condo.

In the meantime, the condo’s last tenants, a young married couple with a baby, terminated their lease early and disappeared. But not before they completely trashed the carpet, doing what would turn out to be $1,600 in damage.

I’d had enough. I was sick of being a landlord. I decided to take the apartment off the market and move my office into it.

An Office in Town

Having an office outside my home for the first time in about 12 years was a treat. My work wasn’t in my face all the time. I didn’t drift from the kitchen to my office and get caught up reading e-mail or working through edits. I went to work in the morning, worked until I felt done for the day, and went home to a life. Mike, who was working from home at the time, did the same. I took the condo’s living room, so I could look out over the mountains, and Mike took the larger of the two bedrooms. The place had everything we needed to be comfortable — full kitchen with dishwasher, bathroom, and access to high-speed Internet. (For about a year, MIke had wireless access that we think he picked up from the local Radio Shack. Ah, the days of unsecured wireless networks.)

The really good part about all this is that we reclaimed both of the bedrooms we’d been using as offices at home. Mike’s old office became the full-time guest room, with all the furniture you’d expect to find in a bedroom. My old office became the “library,” with all of our non-work related books, a desk, framed maps, and a futon for overflow guests. We usually kept the guest room closed off in the summer and winter so we didn’t have to air condition or heat it.

Of course, there were some drawbacks to the office situation. First of all, my office was about 6 miles away, which meant that if I needed something there, I was taking a drive. I had everything there except my 12″ PowerBook, so I dealt with all work-related matters there. For a while, we didn’t even have Internet access at home, since we didn’t “need” it. (It didn’t take long for that to change.)

But the worst part of the situation was when I got calls in the middle of the day for a helicopter flight. The airport is on the opposite end of town. So if I got a call for a flight that day, I’d have to pretty much drop everything I was doing, lock up the office, hop in my vehicle, drive home to put on some more appropriate clothing, and drive to the airport to preflight the helicopter and pull it out. That took a minimum of an hour. When the flight was over, I’d do the same thing in reverse. By the time I got back to my office, my concentration was gone and I wasn’t usually able to get back to writing. Sometimes, the whole day would be shot to hell for a 25-minute tour around Wickenburg that put just $195 in the bank — that’s gross, not net.

When space opened up at the airport for an office, I tried to get it. The Town of Wickenburg’s Airport Manager jerked me around to no end. (If you think coming to Wickenburg to start a business is easy, think again. It seems that the town management isn’t happy unless they present at least a dozen hoops for a new business owner to jump through. The smart ones take their plans elsewhere. I’ve spoken to three different people who were interested in bringing medium sized businesses to Wickenburg, and all three said they’d built their businesses elsewhere after dealing with the town.) It took over a year, intervention from the FAA, an RFP process, and the threat of a discrimination case to get a contract. Now I’m wondering whether I want the Town of Wickenburg for a landlord. Like the smart folks who give up when they see the hoops, I don’t think I do.

So I moved my office back home.

There’s No Place Like Home

The move wasn’t easy, but we were smart enough to do it in the winter months, when it was comfortably cool during the day. We gave away a lot of furniture so we could fit my desk and the things I needed back in the library. All the books went back upstairs, into some built-in shelves, so my work books — including the ones I’ve written — could go in my office. Mike, who now has much less need for space, took the library’s desk upstairs and set that up by one of the big windows with the good views. We put his old desk in my hangar, so I had more space there to do my FAA-required paperwork. (My old desk there had gone up to Howard Mesa months before.)

So now I live with my work again and, frankly, I don’t mind one bit.

I had a book to write, so I got right down to work before everything in the condo had been moved. It I was more ambitious about it, I would have cleared the place out right away, had it thoroughly cleaned, and put it back up for rent. But I dreaded the thought of dealing with all the accumulated paper — including boxes I’d packed in our first Wickenburg home (an apartment on Palm Drive) and ones I’d packed back in New Jersey ten years ago. So I just moved everything aside to give the carpet folks room to lay the new carpet, turned the heat pump off, and locked the place up.

Now I’m Cleaning Up

Months passed. And I finally did something radical to get me to clean up: I hired a professional cleaner. And I told her to come next Wednesday, when I’ll be away in California.

Of course, I don’t expect her to go through all my crap and box it up for my office or storage. That’s something only I can do.

I put it off as long as I could. Yesterday, I had a dawn photo flight here in Wickenburg and a lunch meeting with one of the companies I advertise with. A good day to work on my old office, I reasoned. Lunch would make a good mid-day break. I’d put in 6 hours or so and be done.

Wrong! Although lunch was a good break, I didn’t come close to finishing. I worked in the condo from about 8:30 AM to 11 AM, did some errands, went for lunch, and got back to work at 1 PM. Then I spent the next 3-1/2 hours going at it.

I threw away 7 tall kitchen bags — you know, the 13-gallon size? — full of junk, including stuff I’d saved for more than 15 years. I got rid of all the Apple promotional and developer disks I’d accumulated from 1992 through 2001. I got rid of old software and manuals. I got rid of magazines — about 40 issues of MacAddict that were still in their original wrappers. I got rid of loose receipts, bills, and bank statements. I was ruthless. My hands got filthy — I washed them at least once an hour. My feet got sore from walking barefoot on the cheap carpet I’d had installed in the place.

I filled six file boxes with stuff I wanted to keep. I made piles of stuff to give away — some stuff for the cleaner, miscellaneous paper items for my neighbor’s kids to do crafts, photo and negative holders for a photographer friend, empty CD-cases for the local print shop guy (who also uses Macs).

Later, at 4:15 PM, when Mike rolled up to help me take some of the boxes out, I was exhausted. We loaded most of the boxes into my Jeep and his car, dropped some of them off in storage, and brought the rest home.

But I’m not done.

I’m mostly done. I don’t think I’ll need more than another 4 or so hours. And frankly, I might take the lazy way out and just box up the stuff and stick it in storage without sorting through it. It’s a terrible, nasty job, but there’s only me to blame for it. I just keep too much crap.

So today, after getting a haircut at 8:30 AM, I’ll go back to work in the condo. I’ll get all the loose stuff gathered together, throw away some more junk, and stack up the boxes to go into storage.

Hell, at least I can turn on the air conditioner.