As a professional pilot, I spend four or five days a year in multimillion-dollar flight simulators being examined by specialized training pilots. Since professional pilots already know how to fly, much of the testing focuses on what are called “non-normal situations.” Let’s imagine you find yourself on an airplane, in the sky, without a pilot. You are in a non-normal situation.
A useful guide to your initial actions if you’re in such a pickle is a simple mnemonic called ANC: Aviate, Navigate, Communicate. (Aviation is as acronym-laden a field as any I’ve come across.)
So, aviate. You need to keep the plane in the safe, stable flight you found it in.
Use the control wheel and the horizon displayed on the attitude indicator to level the wings. If it’s gin-clear outside and the real horizon is obvious to you, feel free to use it.
Next, take a look at the altimeter and the vertical speed indicator. Pick an altitude as your target—a simple number near your current altitude, like 10,000 or 15,000 feet. If you’re climbing away from your target, then very gently push the control column forward—that is, away from you—until you’ve stopped climbing. If you’re descending, then pull the control column back, toward you, until you’re not descending anymore. Be gentle, as it’s easy to overcorrect. Porpoising, or repeatedly ascending above and then descending below your target altitude, is a common problem for new pilots.
Now look at the airspeed indicator. Pick a target speed toward the higher end of the safe range. It’s impossible to give numbers for every airplane, but try 100 knots in a small plane, 250 knots in a small airliner, and 280 knots in something like a 747. If your speed is higher than your target, pull the throttles or thrust levers back slightly to reduce power. If it’s lower, then add power.
The goal is to reach an equilibrium in which your speed and altitude are safe and stable. Note the pitch attitude and power setting at which this occurs. The problem, as you’ll soon realize, is that the inputs required to correct one aspect of your flight path will almost certainly upset another one. For example, if you’ve just changed your power setting, then your pitch may have changed, and perhaps you’ve started to inadvertently climb or descend. Or, if you’ve accidentally lowered your pitch attitude, you’ll soon see your speed increasing and your altitude dropping.
The best way to catch such unintended changes early is to move your eyes between the primary instruments in a consistent pattern. This pattern is called the scan and the scan is, unfortunately, much easier said than done, in part because it can seem repetitive at first, and in part because you must keep scanning at the same time as you’re doing everything else you need to do. In fact, getting the scan right is one of the hardest parts of pilot training. It’s hardly overstating it to ask you to imagine that every remaining word in this article is followed by the command “Scan!” (...)
Now it’s time to navigate a safe flight path (in relation to mountains, storms, air traffic zones, and other aircraft) and communicate with the folks who need to know what you’re doing, or who can help you to achieve a safe outcome. For a trained pilot, navigation is a more immediate priority than communication (hence the order of the mnemonic, first A, then N, and last of all C). But for you the opposite is true, because unless you can see an airport right in front of you, you’re going to need outside help to remain clear of terrain and to find a runway.
For that reason, we’ll talk about communication first, and return to navigation afterward. For now, if you can see mountains or other obstacles in your path, turn away from them, climb (by adding power and lifting the nose of the plane), or both.
by Mark Vanhoenacker, Wired | Read more:
Image: markk
A useful guide to your initial actions if you’re in such a pickle is a simple mnemonic called ANC: Aviate, Navigate, Communicate. (Aviation is as acronym-laden a field as any I’ve come across.)
So, aviate. You need to keep the plane in the safe, stable flight you found it in.
Use the control wheel and the horizon displayed on the attitude indicator to level the wings. If it’s gin-clear outside and the real horizon is obvious to you, feel free to use it.
Next, take a look at the altimeter and the vertical speed indicator. Pick an altitude as your target—a simple number near your current altitude, like 10,000 or 15,000 feet. If you’re climbing away from your target, then very gently push the control column forward—that is, away from you—until you’ve stopped climbing. If you’re descending, then pull the control column back, toward you, until you’re not descending anymore. Be gentle, as it’s easy to overcorrect. Porpoising, or repeatedly ascending above and then descending below your target altitude, is a common problem for new pilots.Now look at the airspeed indicator. Pick a target speed toward the higher end of the safe range. It’s impossible to give numbers for every airplane, but try 100 knots in a small plane, 250 knots in a small airliner, and 280 knots in something like a 747. If your speed is higher than your target, pull the throttles or thrust levers back slightly to reduce power. If it’s lower, then add power.
The goal is to reach an equilibrium in which your speed and altitude are safe and stable. Note the pitch attitude and power setting at which this occurs. The problem, as you’ll soon realize, is that the inputs required to correct one aspect of your flight path will almost certainly upset another one. For example, if you’ve just changed your power setting, then your pitch may have changed, and perhaps you’ve started to inadvertently climb or descend. Or, if you’ve accidentally lowered your pitch attitude, you’ll soon see your speed increasing and your altitude dropping.
The best way to catch such unintended changes early is to move your eyes between the primary instruments in a consistent pattern. This pattern is called the scan and the scan is, unfortunately, much easier said than done, in part because it can seem repetitive at first, and in part because you must keep scanning at the same time as you’re doing everything else you need to do. In fact, getting the scan right is one of the hardest parts of pilot training. It’s hardly overstating it to ask you to imagine that every remaining word in this article is followed by the command “Scan!” (...)
Now it’s time to navigate a safe flight path (in relation to mountains, storms, air traffic zones, and other aircraft) and communicate with the folks who need to know what you’re doing, or who can help you to achieve a safe outcome. For a trained pilot, navigation is a more immediate priority than communication (hence the order of the mnemonic, first A, then N, and last of all C). But for you the opposite is true, because unless you can see an airport right in front of you, you’re going to need outside help to remain clear of terrain and to find a runway.
For that reason, we’ll talk about communication first, and return to navigation afterward. For now, if you can see mountains or other obstacles in your path, turn away from them, climb (by adding power and lifting the nose of the plane), or both.
by Mark Vanhoenacker, Wired | Read more:
Image: markk
[ed. I learned to fly because of a couple "non-normal" situations. One time my pilot kept falling asleep, dropping several hundred feet at a clip. It was early evening and he'd been flying all day. He kept making lame jokes, like... "just wanted to check out that muskrat den" and "that's why they call us bush pilots, because we fly from bush to bush, haha." Funny. I had to keep nudging him and feeding him cigarettes to stay awake, and even on final approach he was still nodding off. Another time, another pilot, caught above the clouds, solidly socked in. We had to descend into a mountain range and weren't exactly sure where we were (above this valley or that one?). A small hole opened up and we dove into it like a screaming Japanese zero. It closed immediately and then we were flying blind into... somewhere. I wondered briefly if we'd feel anything, slamming into the side of a mountain. Finally broke through a few hundred feet above ground. In the wrong valley. After that I told myself I'd never get in those situations again without having some type of knowledge or control. But of course, never say never.]
