More than anything else, it was my subscription to FLYING Magazine, beginning with the January 1955 issue, that created a thirst for additional knowledge and achievement. I was not alone. A lot of builders and dreamers were entering the private aviation industry in that era, helping transform it from a time of tube-and-rag taildraggers to sleek transportation aircraft.

In the mid-20th century, America was uniquely positioned for the creation of a modern noncommercial aviation system. There was a need for airplanes that could transport families and business people across the vast distances of North America, we had an airport of some sort in nearly every community, and our personal freedom and finances encouraged the utility of light aircraft. The inefficient war-surplus airplanes and vintage taildraggers leftover from the 1940s no longer sufficed. We were ready for easier-to-fly, purpose-built airplanes.

And experienced, visionary heads of aircraft companies were ready to provide them. As with the automotive industry, we had the Big Three—Beechcraft, Cessna, and Piper—plus eager-to-compete smaller companies like Aero Commander, Bellanca, Champion, Maule, and Mooney. As the 1960s arrived, new models and improved veteran designs showed up in the marketplace. Likewise, a new term, avionics, was coined, referring to a fresh crop of highly capable radios for our instrument panels, thanks to transistors and compact power supplies that shrank space requirements. 

• READ MORE: FLYING Magazine Announces 2025 Ultimate FLYING Giveaway

Powerplants also underwent development. Fuel injection and lightweight turbochargers were added to piston engines, small turbojets encouraged the concept of business jets, and new medium-horsepower turboprops filled the gap between 300 hp opposed recips and burly radials. By 1970, GA shoppers were able to buy anything from aerobatic two-seaters to pressurized, cabin-class twins. Available business aircraft ranged from turboprop executive airplanes to fanjet-powered corporate barges. Airports and airspace routings had been improved to accommodate GA’s growth. This laissez-faire ’60s atmosphere kept the industry’s engineering departments working overtime.

The declared goal during the frenetic ’60s and ’70s was to create “gap fillers.” Every company wanted to provide an airplane to suit every need and keep customers loyal to its brand. Piper had a fleet of Cherokee derivatives, from the 2+2 Cherokee 140, the everyday 180 and beefy 235, and the stretched Cherokee Six, leading to retractable Arrows and Lances, and even twin-engine Senecas and Seminoles. Piper’s earlier high-performance Comanche line was retained through 1972 in single and twin versions, with normal and turbocharged engines. And the company also offered heavier twins in various piston-engine Navajo and turboprop Cheyenne models, all while still building the venerable Aztec twin—not to mention the agricultural Pawnee airplanes and an occasional Super Cub.

Beech Aircraft also tried to fill every gap in the market with a Beechcraft. It expanded its line  downward from the three Bonanza models with a lighter Musketeer series, offered in trainer, cruiser, and retractable variants, and it even fielded a light-twin Duchess, all the while offering Baron twins in as many as five styles, plus the sexy Duke and cabin-class Queen Airs. Meanwhile, Beech’s King Air turboprop line grew longer and more capable, even leading into commuter-airliner variations. To round out its offerings, Beech acquired upscale business jets from Hawker and Mitsubishi. 

Cessna, meanwhile, outdid everyone, developing model after model to plug any sales leak in its line. At one time in the ’70s, I counted 22 singles and 13 twins among its offerings, in addition to the burgeoning Citation business jet lineup. Whatever you needed, from two-place trainer to pressurized single, from push-pull “safe twin” to back-door executive twin, agricultural airplanes and bushplanes, Cessna had them all. There seemed to be no end to the swelling Cessna tide, which amounted to 50 percent of the industry’s unit output during the boom times.

At the same time, little Mooney expanded its basic M20 retractable into longer and more powerful models, Rockwell developed single-engine and ag planes to supplement its piston and turboprop twin-engine line, Bellanca/Champion offered a half-dozen two-seat tailwheel airplanes to compliment its Viking retractables, Grumman was making two- and four-seat airplanes plus a twin-engine model, and Maule tweaked and stretched every possible variation from its tailwheel utility aircraft. 

Present Day Flying

Today, we are still enjoying the fruits of these developments in the 1960s, ’70s, and ’80s.

Refurbished examples of the golden age general aviation airplanes sell for many multiples of their original sticker price, while the limited-production, new single-engine airplanes are astronomically unaffordable. The promised introduction of “light sport” airplanes that would provide economical new aircraft hasn’t worked out. They are priced at about twice the expected figure and often don’t have sufficient payload to accommodate two adults plus full fuel. 

A serious implosion in light airplane production took place during the mid-’80s, closing many production lines and shrinking the supply of available models. This was due to an oversupply of airplanes during economic malaise, coupled with the growth of rapacious product liability lawsuits and concurrent manufacturer insurance costs. Most of GA’s growth shifted into big-ticket aircraft such as turbine-powered business airplanes, utility and owner-flown, single-engine turboprops, and fast-glass, piston-engine singles.

As the new millennium arrived, Cirrus Design brought not only a new sleek composite-construction personal airplane but a fresh approach to marketing it. With its integral emergency parachute, side-stick control, video-screen, GPS-based avionics and automotive interior styling, the Cirrus SR series appealed to a new generation of entrants to GA. The company quickly filled a void abandoned by the traditional airplane companies that had been acquired by corporate conglomerates that were more interested in selling big-ticket business aircraft than entry-level models. 

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The real revolution now stems from the utility gained by effortless navigation provided by GPS data flowing into advanced computing capability, so that panel-mounted displays can not only show current position but flight plan routing, all linked to advanced autopilot technology taking care of most cross-country piloting chores. With uplinked, in-cockpit weather integrated into tablet-based “electronic flight bags” or the avionics suite, there’s no longer any excuse for pressing on into unflyable conditions lurking over the horizon. 

Retrofitting this advanced technology into legacy aircraft is simply a matter of allocating enough money to make the airplane useful. The ADS-B mandate of 2020 has given more flexibility to ATC handling of any size of aircraft—at the cost of privacy and freedom. Yes, we deal with a multitude of airspace rules and restrictions, but we had to negotiate many of those same encroachments in the late 20th century, and with less computing power in the cockpit back then to help us avoid them. 

Airport infrastructure has shifted away from providing accommodations for all comers to building for the biggest user, leaving light general aviation to occupy the corners of the ramp or a remote edge of the airport. Stand-alone, family-operated FBOs have been replaced by chains of opulent palaces catering to the jet set. We can expect to pay for what used to be free services, because our minuscule fuel business is no longer important enough to be willingly subsidized by the big iron customers. 

Expectations are greater in the 21st century—in all aspects of life, not just GA. New entrants to flying expect seamless air conditioning, push-button actuations, plush accommodations, and high levels of service, compared with their more-tolerant parents and grandparents. If passengers can’t have Wi-Fi on board, they don’t want to ride with us. Privileges have their price, reflected in million-dollar sticker prices on new limited-production piston singles and multiple millions for personal turboprops. 

At least we still have options, even though we may have more money tied up in our instrument panel than a first-class traveling airplane cost back in the late 1900s. We’ve lost many airports to housing and industrial developments, but many remain, still giving access to communities via general aviation, providing transportation and utility possible in no other way. 

Flying’s Future

The future, from my jaded perspective, will be different, perhaps not to the tastes of my generation but still suitable and rewarding to those who’ll be doing most of the GA flying.

Accommodations might have to be made for the hyper-promoted electric urban air mobility (UAM) vehicles, manned and unmanned, in various stages of development for a market that may or may not exist. If airspace, bases, and routes have to be carved out for these anticipated thousands of mass-transit conveyances, we may see some disruption of traditional air traffic.

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The big unknown is the impact of governmental and public policy interference on a limited-participation activity like general aviation. Regardless of the facts, the loudest voices get the most attention at law-making levels, and well-meaning but shortsighted regulation can wind up stifling the freedom of flight enjoyed by private citizens. We must continue to support our GA membership organizations, and these associations must link arms with other interests, such as business aviation, helicopter operators, agricultural aviation, flight training, avionics shops, and FBOs, to ward off possible restrictions and bad laws stemming from class-envy and special-interest rhetoric targeting the industry.

I remain eternally optimistic about aviation, because I’ve always observed humankind’s innate desire to fly. From the days of the earliest prehistoric human watching soaring birds, there’s always been something urging us to look skyward, yearning to share the perspective of height. People will always want to fly, and once having tasted the freedom of personal wings, it is difficult to give it up. It behooves us to share flight with as many of our friends and acquaintances as possible, building a coalition to preserve what we’ve been given. 

A love of flying, like all passions, has to be given away if it is to be continuously circulated back to the conferrer.

This feature first appeared in the Summer 2024 Ultimate Issue print edition.

The post Ultimate Issue: The State of U.S. General Aviation appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Succinctness is the single most prized quality a pilot can exhibit when on the radio. It’s almost as if that little push-to-talk button is buried on the backside of the yoke so as to remind you to only use it when necessary. Break glass in case of communication.

This is for a good reason. There are times when multiple pilots are trying to talk to a controller in busy airspace. Without concise communications there will quickly be a backlog of speeding airplanes no longer in their original positions. At some point, this transitions from a nuisance to a danger. And so we are taught to be frugal with our words.

Say who you are, where you’re at, and what you want. Do so using the fewest number of words. Like a chef making a reduction, distilling the information I need to convey to its purest essence is a joyful exercise for me. The sauce just tastes better.

Becoming a writer, and later a pilot, taught me that words are powerful, have distinct meaning, and should be used sparingly. As an added benefit, people will plain like you more when you’re succinct. Certainly air traffic controllers. I remember being at a wedding with my dad when a known yapper in the family took to the podium to make his speech. My father stretched his legs out, slid down in his chair, closed his eyes, and proclaimed, “Nap time.” Even as a 10 year old, I had a conscious thought that I never wanted anyone to have that reaction to me opening my mouth.

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Flying south from Sullivan County Airport (KMSV), my home field upstate, toward New York Class B during rush hour, things sometimes get a little unruly—at least on the radios. Combine a collection of airplanes all trying to check in at once with a tired controller toward the end of his shift who possesses a strong New York accent, and I will find myself wishing I had popcorn on board.

New York Approach: “OK, everybody stop talking! JetBlue 2073, heading one-eight-five, climb to one-seven thousand. I got two Pipers calling. The one near Kingston, say request. Everyone else, standby!”

Let me tell you, pilots become wonderfully concise when responding to a stern call like that. Everyone just tightens it up. Short and sweet. Good sauce. Nom. Nom. Nom.

Whenever I’m entering the pattern at KMSV, my instructor, Neil, will come on the radio after I’ve made my initial “10 miles from the field” call. “Hello, Ben. How are you?” KMSV is pretty far from anyone or anything, and there isn’t ever much traffic. Yet it still makes me anxious to talk on the CTAF if it’s anything more than calling out my turn to left base. When I answer him with even the shortest pleasantries, I feel like I’m breaking some rule, or at the least, betraying some code. It just feels wrong. My replies are so short you’d think I disliked the man.

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I sometimes take this quest for succinctness too far. Tail numbers should be read back in full when other aircraft in the pattern have similar numbers as yours. My Bonanza is N1750W. When another pilot calls in with a tail number ending in “four-zero-whiskey,” that is not the time to be signing off with my usual, “five-zero-whiskey.” You spell it out in that case. Common sense.

Altimeter readings are a toss-up. When checking in with a new controller, I don’t repeat back the altimeter numbers unless there’s some monstrous difference from the last reporting station that would signify a weather change I’d want to confirm. Short of that, I just give my trusty “five-zero-whiskey.” It means I heard them, and I’m not gonna take up even one extra second of their precious time.

Creativity is not usually rewarded on the radio, but I will admit I love reading back anything with three zeros as “triple nothing.” Sue me. In life outside the cockpit, this desire for brevity has not served me well. Sometimes in conversation I will understand the point someone is trying to make long before completion. It takes everything in me not to stop them midsentence and say, “I got it,” and then summarize in two sentences what they’ve spent the last three minutes (and counting) trying to convey. This is decidedly not a great way to make friends. And apparently I’m not very good at hiding this aversion because even when I manage to keep my mouth shut, people will ask me if I am in pain. On the inside. Yes. I am.

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Screenwriters are like pilots: We have to get the most information across using the least amount of words. While a novelist can use language without any constrictions to paint a vivid physical and emotional landscape, we are beholden to some basic limitations. Screenplays are generally 120 pages, which universally correlates to one minute per page and yields your average two-hour movie. Reminds me of an old-school timing approach from the FAF to the MAP. 

There are levels, of course. Some of us are merely good on the radio. Some of us are heroes. I have heard recordings of pilots who have just declared an emergency that sound like they’re on muscle relaxers signing up for a meditation class. I am in awe of these pilots. I’ve only declared an emergency once in my 13 years of flying, and I have zero interest in hearing that tape. I was on my heels, scared, and my little brain added a whole bunch of unnecessary words to every transmission. 

I’d like to think my dad would appreciate my radio calls—emergencies notwithstanding. He passed long ago. But if he’s up there listening, I hope he gets to hear me read back a revised IFR clearance departing New York airspace with clarity and an economy of words. That or a really good wedding speech.

The post The Wisdom of Keeping Transmissions Short and Sweet appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Since I was planning a flight the following week during the day from Paine Field (KPAE) in Everett, Washington, to Jefferson County International Airport (0S9) to take a taxi into Port Townsend, then fly back to Paine after dark, I needed to get night current. Having not flown at night much over the last couple of years, I thought that I would prepare in advance.

I rented a Cessna 172 from Regal Air at KPAE and scheduled company CFI Nick Butterfield to come along to make sure that I was up to speed. Instead of just doing three stop-and-goes on Paine’s 9,010-foot-long runway, I asked Nick to put me under the hood to see if I could keep a heading and altitude without looking at outside references, then do a couple of night landings at “JeffCo.” 

The hood work turned out to be a very good idea. I was very rusty on instruments. “That’s harder than I remember,” I told Butterfield as he asked me to climb from 2,500 to 3,500 feet while changing directions from west to south and descending down to 2,700 feet while turning to north and then back to the west. Keeping straight and level at a prescribed altitude provided a challenge. It seems that I had trouble with my scan. Focusing on the altimeter caused my heading to drift and vice versa. It took several attempts before I could get it right.

After the hood work, it was well after dark but a beautiful, clear, calm night to fly 20 miles over Puget Sound, picking out city lights on the shoreline. As we got near JeffCo, I let Butterfield know that I had flown there many times, even back in the day when it was the only U.S. international airport with a grass field, but never at night.

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Butterfield shared that he had not either. He said he avoided that airport at night since it was set in forests that, in the dark, looked like a “black hole.” He also heard that wildlife could be a problem in those conditions.

“It looks like we are both in for an adventure,” I said. Around 7 miles out near Port Ludlow, we headed toward Port Hadlock to avoid overflying a Navy-restricted area on Marrowstone Island. We switched to JeffCo’s frequency, and Butterfield checked the weather and learned that the winds were calm and that there was no other air traffic. He then asked me what I planned to do next.

I told him that I was going to continue along the shoreline, get the airport lights in sight, turn west from the shoreline, and then go on a 45-degree entry to a left downwind to Runway 27 for a full-stop landing. He responded, “Right answer.” After beginning a descent to pattern altitude of 1,100 feet, it did seem like we were over a black hole with only a couple of cellphone towers and the distant runway lights in view.

After turning on the 45, the airport complex came into full view, and my first night landing in a long time was OK. The second was a bit better. After landing, we exited the 3,000-foot runway and taxied back to 27. 

Along the way, I let Butterfield know that there was a very good restaurant called the Spruce Goose Cafe at the airport that is definitely worth a breakfast or lunch flight and that the Port Townsend Aero Museum offers a great variety of military and civilian aircraft. But one of the best reasons to fly to JeffCo is that it is just a 10-minute taxi ride from the historic seaport of Port Townsend.

At the end of the taxiway, I came to a full stop and looked around, announced our intention to depart on Runway 27 for a left downwind departure, and began to enter the runway. Then we both saw a deer scamper away from the south side of the runway, and I came to a full stop on the centerline. We both looked around and did not see any more critters.

I pushed in the throttle and began the takeoff roll. Suddenly, another deer ran from the north side of the runway, coming to a dead stop on the centerline and staring at our landing light. I yanked the throttle out, hit the brakes hard, and stopped less than 10 feet from the deer.

After pausing to look at us, the deer sprinted to the south side of the runway, disappearing into the darkness beyond the runway lights. Butterfield and I took a deep breath and stared at each other. “That was quite a wildlife experience,” I said.

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“If you hadn’t hit the brakes,” he said, “that would have been very messy.” 

Not exactly sure where we were on the runway, and a bit excited, I decided to taxi to a midfield exit and go back to the start of Runway 27 for another attempt. Fortunately, that takeoff was uneventful.

We headed back to KPAE, where there are no blackholes around the big complex that includes one of Boeing’s large facilities to the north of the runway. However, the tower closes after 9 p.m., and there were five aircraft in the pattern, all trying to get night current. Adding to the multiple headlight scenario, a Horizon Air pilot announced, “Inbound for landing on 34 left, 10 miles out.”

Those of us in the pattern extended our downwind legs a few miles before attempting to land. I gave myself a “B” grade on the first attempt. The next try was a squeaker I deemed worthy of an “A.” Time to call it a night and talk more about deer in the headlights. Butterfield filled in my logbook: “Four night landings; one deer near miss.”

After that experience, I will follow Butterfield’s lead and avoid JeffCo after dark. The next week, I took off just before dark from the airport—avoiding more deer in the headlights—and got back to Paine before the tower closed so it could direct traffic.

Tom Murdoch is the director of the Adopt A Stream Foundation (www.streamkeeper.org), conducting aerial wildlife surveys and taking aerial photos of the organization’s stream restoration projects.

The post Finding a Deer in the Headlights appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Aircraft Models

I have a special place in my heart for Aeromexico—it’s a family legacy. That’s why the MD-80 Aeromexico model from MidwestModelStore.com immediately caught my eye (though I was tempted by the 777 model too). Aircraft models are a fantastic gift for any aviation enthusiast. They probably haven’t treated themselves to one, and these models are always well received. I can’t recommend MidwestModelStore.com enough—they’ve got everything from Falcon 7X to A350s.

Pricing: $40 and up

Aviation Merchandise

Ever thought about a phone case, T-shirt, or mouse pad customized with your home airport identifier or a sectional chart? Aeroswag has you covered. I’ve lost count of the hours I’ve spent browsing its custom gear. Gifts from here always get a great reaction for being personal and unique. Plus, they’ve got FLYING gear too. Check out its extensive collection.

Pricing: $10 and up

FLYING Magazine

Alright, a bit of a bias alert here since I had a hand in this. But honestly a FLYING Magazine subscription is an amazing gift for anyone who loves aviation. Each issue is like a little collectible, not just another magazine. If you love the idea of being thanked all year round, our holiday bundle is the way to go. It includes FLYING, Plane & Pilot, KITPLANES, and more. Plus, you snag a free T-shirt with each bundle. That was FLYING Media Group CEO Craig Fuller’s idea. Good thinking, Craig.

Bundle subscription (best value)

FLYING-only subscription

Flight Sim PC

If you’re into tech but don’t have the spare hours to build and spec out a gaming PC for Microsoft Flight Simulator, we’ve got you covered. We teamed up with DogHouse Systems to take the hassle out of the process. The result? A ready-to-go PC that’s tailor-made for your flight sim needs. It’s pretty much a plug-and-play deal—set it up and you’re ready to soar right from your home. Check it out here! 

Pricing: $4,995

Garmin D2 Mach 1 Pro Smartwatch

If you’ve listened to Justin Siems from the Pilot to Pilot podcast, you’ve probably heard him go on and on about this watch. It’s got a built-in red and white flashlight, incredible battery life, and all the features a pilot could need. I reluctantly admit, Siems is right. This watch has been one of my best flying purchases—it’s like having a flight bag on your wrist.

Pricing: $1,399.99

Bose A30 Aviation Headset

I was a die-hard A20 fan until Bose rolled out the A30. I caved when I saw the free speaker promo and, man, no regrets. The A30s are a solid step up. Now, when I have company in the cockpit, they get to use my old A20s—a definite upgrade from my first PPL headset.

Pricing: $1,299

Flight Outfitters Lift 2.0 Bag

I’ve tried a ton of flight bags, but nothing beats the Lift Bag from Flight Outfitters. It’s the perfect size for all my gear and fits snugly in every plane I’ve flown. I even snagged another one as a gift for a pilot buddy. They’re seriously top notch.

Pricing: $99

Aircraft For Sale

Just for fun, have a look at this Cessna 150 and Cirrus SR22. They’re amazing deals. I’ve been debating the Cessna 150 myself; it’s an incredible find. I’ve been kind of gatekeeping it for myself, but the world needs to know about it. If you’re serious about these or other aircraft, FLYING Financial Group can assist. Chief commercial officer Preston Holland there is great help.

That’s all. Remember this  also can really just be a gift guide for the new stuff you buy for yourself. 

The post The Best Gifts for Pilots and Really Anyone Who Likes Aviation appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Piper has led an exceptionally charmed, adventurous dog’s life by air and sea in his eight years with us. We acquired our first airplane, a 1953 Piper Pacer, while the canine Piper was but eight weeks old. A fortnight later, he had his first airplane ride in my brother Steve’s lap. He bore it well enough, but followed up by puking all over my truck’s back seat. His stomach soon became acclimated to flight, and various aerial adventures followed over Piper’s first two years of life.

But then we sold the airplane, our house, and everything Piper had hitherto known, and decamped to a 42-foot sailboat named Windbird, on which we subsequently lived for nearly five years and sailed over 12,000 nm throughout the Bahamas, Caribbean, and U.S. East Coast. To this new, rather jarringly different lifestyle, Piper adapted admirably well. He quickly learned to negotiate our steep companionway ladder, found his sea legs on oceanic passages, and soon discovered a clear delight in dinghy rides and beach outings. His gregarious personality won him friends among island dogs, locals, and sailors from Nantucket to Grenada. Piper’s seaborne life inspired Dawn to start a nautical-themed dog treat company (“Ruff Seas Treats”) soon after our return to land.

Alas, Piper’s nautical exploits have come to an end, but lately, his aerial adventures have resumed where they left off in 2016. The apparent dog-friendliness of our 1946 Stinson 108 was one of the factors that attracted us to it. The cabin is agreeably utilitarian, not unlike the interior of our Nissan Xterra SUV. The rear seat makes a perfect perch for Piper to watch the landscape pass by, and it’s easily removable for expeditions requiring a dog bed and camping equipment.

Piper’s first GA flight in six years was an admittedly shaky affair. We quickly figured out it was the noise that was bothering him, as the Stinson is even louder than our Pacer was. We ordered Piper a pair of Mutt Muffs (safeandsoundpets.com), and after a bit of getting used to them, they seemed to greatly alleviate his aerial jitters. After a few successful shorter flights, it was time to plan our first extended trip in the Stinson over Labor Day weekend.

Our initial itinerary was a camping tour of the Cascades’ mountain landing strips, from Lake Chelan (Stehekin State, 6S9) to Rimrock Lake (Tieton State, 4S6) to Ranger Creek (21W). This was prevented by a renewed outbreak of forest fires, with accompanying smoke and TFRs. In fact, the smoke was thick enough to keep us strictly local for the first few days of Labor Day weekend.

But then, on Labor Day itself, the skies cleared between us and the coast, making a day trip to Copalis State an enticing option. I’d heard Copalis was a neat place to fly, but before buying the Stinson a month prior, I couldn’t take the Cherokee I was renting and didn’t want to abuse my neighbor Ken’s generosity in lending me his SuperCub. As a sailor, I am fully aware of the destructiveness of saltwater. If I’m going to land on an ocean beach, it’s going to be in my own airplane (with a good hose-down to follow). I now had a few hours in the Stinson, and was feeling pretty good about my landings. I reasoned that I could go take a look and drag the beach and only land if I was comfortable. The last question was one of tides, for Copalis is only usable at half-tide or lower, and best if still falling. The ideal three-hour period started around noon on Labor Day. It was settled.

Before we went, I watched YouTube videos of Copalis landings. The “runway” changes and is very loosely marked, but the approved landing area is at least easy to find thanks to a nearby inlet and a permanent windsock. Approaching from the northeast, we spotted it easily, even before seeing the airplanes on the ground. Next, I made a low pass. The retreating tide had left a distinct strip of dark, moist-but-not-wet sand. I decided to make a wheel landing on my next approach, reasoning that if the sand was softer than expected, I would have the energy to either go around or just add power and “drag” the strip with my mains before coming around for another try. I needn’t have worried; the sand was more akin to concrete than our grass airstrip, and the landing was a complete non-event.

As soon as we shut down and extracted Piper from the back seat, he tore off down the beach at a gallop, chasing seabirds with tongue flying and a grin on his face. The beach is still very much his happy place. One of the other pilots had brought along two large German Shepherds in his Cessna 210, and Piper soon made new friends. The 210 pilot left the dogs with his girlfriend and took the airplane for a few circuits, practicing soft-field takeoffs and landings. His technique was excellent, though I winced every time he retracted the landing gear—I think I would have left it down until I had a chance to hose it off. Soon a Carbon Cub approached from the north, inquiring on the radio about runway conditions. I got a good chuckle out of a Centurion driver convincing a CubCrafters guy that his airplane could handle the beach.

Our little gaggle of airplanes attracted quite a bit of attention from holiday beachgoers. Copalis State has been an FAA-approved airport (summer months only) for many years, but quite a few onlookers didn’t know about it and, intrigued, came over to look at the airplanes and talk to the pilots. Our Stinson’s blue-and-neon-green paint scheme (chosen by the previous owner) garnered particularly appreciative comments from the Seahawks faithful. Personally, I think our colors will look great for search and rescue responders if they ever have cause to come looking for me.

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A few hours after our arrival, the sun was starting to dip and the distant surf had reversed its retreat. Piper was resting in the cool sand after a couple hours of running his little heart out. It was time to go. We all loaded up, taxied to the south end of the beach, made sure beachgoers were clear, and took off. I couldn’t resist another low approach to show off our pretty Stinson, then climbed toward the Olympic Mountains and our home strip, 45 minutes away. Piper slept in the back seat, no doubt dreaming about chasing seagulls. Dawn squeezed my arm and rested her head on my shoulder as the slanting sun turned the smoky skies golden. Our outing to the beach was a small trip early in our ownership of the Stinson. But it was a nice preview of the adventures this classic taildragger will open up to us—and our pooch—as we explore our adopted home state and surrounding area in the coming years.

This article was originally published in the May 2023 Issue 937 of FLYING.

The post Life’s a Beach…When You Fly Into One appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Yup. The dreaded words, and just a couple of weeks before the 10-year anniversary of getting my private certificate. It happened earlier this year, departing VanNuys (KVNY) in California.

Below is an excerpt from my ASRS report:

[My] first time departing KVNY, and I was given the CANOGA 3 departure. I misread the chart for my given runway and believed the initial turn was a climbing left toa 253 heading. It was a climbing right turn to 213. I had a feeling something was off while still on the ground and asked tower to confirm my climbing left turn to 253. I was told, “affirmative.”

This calmed me, and I was given a takeoff clearance on [Runway] 16R (16L utilizes the climbing left turn). I was immediately handed off to SoCal approach and seeing that the left turn took me over the parallel runway, I asked again if my left turn was the correct one. The controller told me it was incorrect and had me turn back to the right. There was no other traffic around, but the controller gave me a number to call.

It’s fairly obvious what happened here, what I should have done and will do to remedy the mistake moving forward, so I’ll spare you the mea culpa. What I’d like to talk about is how it snuck past both myself and the tower controller. How did I misinterpret the chart, and how did he not catch my blunder when asked? The answer is age-old: Human beings are highly prone to errors.

To hammer the point home: there have been no less than three major incidents at JFK, Boston Logan, and Austin in as many months. These all involved professional pilots flying big iron. All three have human error at their core.

The January 13 event at KJFK involved two airliners. An American Boeing 777 crossed the wrong runway, and an already-departing Delta Boeing 737 had to haul on the brakes to keep from plowing into the taxiing 777. This could have been a major catastrophe with hundreds of casualties. The controller caught it in time, but he could just as easily have taken a sip of coffee and missed it. In my view, the American pilots appear to be at blame. What was happening in the cockpit at the time? Idle chit-chat? Fatigue? Clearly a distraction of some sort.

• READ MORE: Close Call at JFK International

In Boston on February 27, a Learjet took off after being given, and even reading back correctly, an instruction to line up and wait. That is an error only a human could make. The approaching JetBlue captain saw the Lear and went around. They came within 530 feet of one another. Reading back instructions correctly, then doing something else entirely, illustrates the highest level of distraction. Was it internal or external in its inception?

The Austin incident on February 4 seems to be an air traffic controller error in which two aircraft were cleared for the same runway. A FedEx Boeing 767attempted to land while a Southwest 737 prepared for takeoff. The FedEx pilot abruptly pulled up as the Southwest 737 had already taken the runway. The 767 descended to just 150 feet before initiating the go-around. Close calls, all of them.

• READ MORE: FAA Investigates Close-Call Situation at Austin Airport

We humans are flawed machines. Full stop. Our training has tried to make us aware of these limitations, but we are as complicated as we are flawed. All that stuff we learned in class about fatigue and mental state seemed so silly to me at the time. I breezed past it like a driver’s ed remedial course after getting a speeding ticket. Who really stops themselves before a flight and goes through the I’M SAFE checklist? If you do, congrats. The rest of you can read on.

I have never done it and doubt I ever will. If I’m heading to the airport, I’ve already made a decision about my well-being and ability. It may not be a great decision, but it’s a decision nonetheless. Goingthrough that checklist before you leave the house makes more sense, but who is doing that in their living room?

Let’s speak plainly here. Unless something is obviously wrong with your physical or mental state, you aren’t going to be running through that check-list. And if something is substantive enough to grab your attention, then you don’t need the list to begin with. The hard part is admitting/recognizing something creeping up on you—not noticing something that already has your attention. Using my example, I was sitting on a taxiway, having just flown in congested airspace in IMC. The airports I was flying between are all within minutes of one another and are all in Class D and C airspace, with Class B right above them. I was about as busy as I’ll ever be in an airplane without introducing some sort of emergency. It was tiring and gratifying.

I flew a SID departing Burbank and was in the clouds in no time. Next, an RNAV approach into Camarillo where I flew the missed and went right back into the clouds. I then flew a new-to-me ILS into Van Nuys. I was tired. Not so tired that I would call off a flight back to the airplane’s home in Burbank, seven nautical miles away.

So, what then? What should have happened? It’s about noticing the slightly different feeling I had sitting on the taxiway. I wasn’t exhausted, but I was fatigued. Had I used the I’M SAFE checklist, I would have breezed right through all six criteria. What happened is more nuanced than that. It’s more akin to noticing a vibration coming from up front. I’m tuned into my engine at all times when it’s running. My sensitivity to any change in that Continental feels super-human. I feel like I can detect variations in its operation that even a mechanical instrument could not. My passengers never notice the slight frequency changes I am describing. To me, they feel/sound like fog horns at close range.

In this example, that “engine vibration” was me asking the tower to confirm the direction of flight on a departure procedure. The red flag should have waved right there. That is simply not a question I should have been asking. That is a vibration that should have made me check my body’s engine monitor, followed immediately by the chart for the CANOGA 3 departure.

What were the pilots and the controller in those other incidents feeling or thinking in those moments just before their decisions were made? Could it have been confirmation bias, or expectation bias? Marital issues? A slight cold? Only they can tell us, and it’s fully possible that any one, or all, of them weren’t even feeling off in the slightest. Sometimes we just make mistakes apropos of nothing. At times we just fumble the ball.

I spoke to ATC when I landed. The gentleman was from New York, and his accent made me feel like things would be okay. They checked the tapes, and I was cleared of any penalty or wrongdoing, but I still filled out the ASRS report. Felt like penance. Reprimanded or not, I made a mistake, and I’d very much like not to do it again.

This article was originally published in the May 2023 Issue 937 of  FLYING.

The post Misses, Near and Far… appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

According to the late aviation historian Peter Bowers, the Adcox Student Prince began as a design by Basil Smith intended to be a two-seat, open-cockpit biplane and used as a trainer. The airplane was built by students at Adcox Trade School near Portland in 1929. According to Bowers, the airplane was built on contract for Jerry Wildman, a Portland-area pilot who financed the project.

The design was such a hit that Adcox decided to mass-produce the aircraft. A factory was built outside of Portland, on Swan Island along the Willamette River.

The Student Prince is not a terribly complicated design. The fuselage and tail surfaces are welded steel tubing, and the wings used wooden spars and wood-truss ribs at first. Pressed sheet aluminum was later used for the ribs. The fuel tank, fitted in the center section of the wing, holds approximately 22.5 gallons.

The powerplant of the aircraft varied. The one-off Adcox Student Prince had an 85 hp Cirrus Mk III, later a 90 hp Ace engine. The Kinner K-5 also became a popular choice. 

Unfortunately, the Great Depression was underway at the time of its inception, and the airplane market was soft to nonexistent—the lack of customers and flooding from winter rains closed the factory down.

“Less than six of the aircraft were produced and only three were certified. Number 101, 102, and 103. Those were the last three that were built before the economy tanked,” says Tim Talen, a pilot and aircraft restorer from Springfield, Oregon. Talen, the founder of the Oregon Aviation Historical Society, has been restoring vintage aircraft since the 1970s, “taking them from basket case to award winners,” he says. Talen owns Student Prince No. 101: “The prototype for the certified airplanes,” says Talen. “The Student Prince was the first certified production airplane built in Oregon.”

Student Prince No. 101

Talen had heard stories about a Student Prince in the Pacific Northwest, and he went looking for it. He learned about Skeeter Carlson, a vintage aviation pilot with a Student Prince in Spokane. Skeeter told him he had another Student Prince that was a basket case and asked Talen if he would be interested in a trade.

“A few years later, I had a Fleet airplane and I asked, ‘How about trading the Fleet for the SP?’” says Talen. Unfortunately, the airplane was without an engine. “I was trading for a complete airplane and engine, but no, Skeeter said just the airframe, so I had to go out and find my own engine. I got a Kinner.”

Missing parts are often part of the challenge when restoring a vintage aircraft, says Talen, and the restorer often finds themself searching for an airplane of the same make and model to take measurements.

A Student Prince was operated by Bert and Fred Zimmerly, who opened a flying service in 1934 in Lewiston, Idaho, according to a story in the April 1941 issue of FLYING.The brothers used the airplane as a trainer while they developed their commercial opera-tions serving the community along with a seven-placeZenith. The pair moved operations to Clarkston in1938. Turns out, this was Student Prince No. 101.

Charlie Brown, Serial No. 102

Now, Student Prince No. 102 certainly belongs to Charlie Brown of Sandpoint, Idaho. Brown, an octogenarian pilot and aviation mechanic, estimates he’s restored around 23 aircraft. He also acquired his Student Prince from Skeeter Carlson. It was one of many projects left unfinished after Carlson’s death.

“He had a lot of airplanes,” said Brown. “He bought [the Student Prince] in 1947. He had taken it apart some 35 years ago so he could recover it, and basically it didn’t happen. After Skeeter died, his family wanted to get rid of the airplane stuff and I found it in his barn. I acquired it in 2016—it was about 90 percent there. It took about four years to restore it.”

Brown notes it had the original seats. “The seats are Naugahyde and tall and narrow, and it’s stamped on them they were made on Swan Island near Portland, Oregon.” According to Brown the instrument panel is basic, “A tachometer, a compass, airspeed, oil pressure and temperature, and that’s pretty much it.” He notes his airplane sports a 145 hp Warner, more powerful than the other Student Princes.

Brown’s Student Prince is orange, which is a creative choice, he says. “I have seen some original 1930s pictures of the Student Prince and I think they were all silver back then,” he said, adding that it is difficult to tell since the images are in black and white.

During the restoration, Brown, like Talen, sought out a fully intact Student Prince for reference—that Student Prince No. 103, belongs to Summer Martell of Port Townsend, Washington.

Summer Martell, Student Prince No. 103

Summer Martell is a 15,000-hour ATP-rated corporate pilot and designated pilot examiner from Port Townsend, Washington. According to Martell, her airplane was the last one the factory finished before it shut down. She’s been flying the airplane since her teen years—it belonged to her father, who was known as “Flyin’ Bryan.”

Martell’s parents were divorced and she was living with her mother in Palmer, Alaska, when her father was learning to fly. He started in tricycle gear airplanes but soon made the transition to tailwheel.

“He saw the Student Prince in a hangar at an airport, and he said it smiled at him, and he knew he had to have it,” she says. Her father sent her photographs of himself next to his newly acquired Student Prince, and it wasn’t long before Summer joined her father in Washington and started taking flying lessons in the antique open-cockpit biplane, which her father christened “Lady Summer.”

Father and daughter would spend the summers barnstorming. Summer’s job was to haul cans of gas, and collect the money while her dad gave rides.

When she was 16, she learned to hand-prop the airplane to get it started as it doesn’t have an electrical system or starter. Martell learned to fly in the Student Prince, soloing at 16. A year later, after her father’s untimely and non-aviation-related death, she inherited the airplane.

She put herself to work as a modern-day barnstormer as she built her hours and became a professional pilot. There’s still nothing she loves more than giving rides at airshows and fly-ins.

When other Student Prince owners need information on a part, it’s Martell’s aircraft that is photographed and measured. 

“It underwent a complete restoration in 2009,” she says, adding that she learned to buy and hoard Kinnerparts whenever she could. Recently, she added a Kinnerstarter to the airplane. 

“I’ve been hand-propping that plane since I was 16. The convenience and safety a starter will add outweighs the nostalgia of hand propping,” she explained.

Martell flies the airplane about 50 hours a year, mostly in the summer.

“My father used to tell me that flying was my inheritance. His words proved to be prophetic, and the Student Prince has been the key to that kingdom. It has affected, influenced, and shaped my life more than anything or anyone. When it comes to the two of us, I will always be the student, and it will forever be my Prince.”

Adcox Special Student Prince

The rarest of the rare, the Adcox Special Student Prince N10471, also resides in Washington state, owned by Keith Dyson, an AP/IA and commercial pilot. Aviation runs in the family, as it was Dyson’s father Hank who found the Adcox parked at the Kennewick, Washington, airport in 1957.

“It had been modified by having the original American Cirrus engine removed and replaced by a Kinner B-5 that had swallowed a valve,” says Dyson. “Dad trucked it home, removed the Kinner and replaced it with a Continental W670, which it still has. It was given a full restoration—back in the air in the early 1960s.”

It was in that airplane that Keith Dyson, age four, took his first airplane ride. “The event forever hooked me into the world of aviation,” he says. “Dad kept the airplane until 1968 when he traded it for building materials and construction equipment to build a very large home on the family homestead near Eatonville, Washington, but he always kept track of where the Adcox traveled. During his final year with United Airlines in 1988, he used part of his retirement to purchase the airplane back, and it has been back in the family ever since.”

The senior Dyson flew west in 2012, leaving his son to care for the antique. 

“I am currently putting N10471 back together following rebuilding new floorboards. Fortunately for me, the Adcox has not required another full-on restoration, and I’ve not had to deal with anything other than routine maintenance.”

The best part of being the caretaker of the Adcox Student Prince—because no one really ever owns an antique airplanes, they are simply caretakers—says Dyson, is “knowing I’m working on a piece of history that has been touched by so many extremely talented people that loved antique open cockpit biplanes. I plan to hold onto this great old bird as long as I can. 

“I was so incredibly fortunate this great airplane chose me!

The post A Tale of Four Princes appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Carole is not a person who saw those challenges as insurmountable. Previously, as a corporate executive and journalist, she met every obstacle with gusto. When she started training to fly, her quest to her current role as a United Airlines Boeing 737 captain based out of Newark, New Jersey, could have been derailed many times. It took a solid plan, years of work, and a combination of brains, perseverance, and an infectious positive attitude to make her dream come true.

And she is just getting started. In addition to launching the “100 Pairs of Wings” program following the success of her biography of Bessie Coleman, A Pair of Wings, Hopson is also a mentor in United’s Aviate Academy, through which the airline intends to fulfill its promise of a more diversified workforce.

FLYING Magazine (FM): Explain your early interest in flying—when you first noticed airplanes—and how that impacted your future.

Carole Hopson (CH): I have wanted to fly airplanes ever since I can remember. But this was not a popular career aspiration for a girl coming of age in the 1960s and ‘70s. It felt like a dream that I should keep to myself. And so I did. But it was something that just wouldn’t leave me. Even though I pursued many remarkable fields, I still wanted to follow this path.

FM: Your husband, Michael, was instrumental in helping you move from being a corporate executive and journalist to becoming a professional pilot. What did he do to help you?

CH: The first thing that my husband Michael did was he listened. He never laughed at me, and then he put real money and enthusiastic support behind my training. He bought me a discovery flight and paid for the initial lessons. He also helped me create what he called an “exit strategy.” We put together a financial plan with a timeline to forge my dream into a goal.

FM: Once you decided to train to become an airline pilot,what support system did you have in terms of family life as well as financially?

CH: That exit strategy that I talked about was detailed. Before I up and left my job, I took another position so that I could save the money for flight school. We mapped out which flight schools I would attend and planned for the accelerated courses, as well as cost—both financial and emotional. Then we bought a house and moved from Manhattan to New Jersey so that I could be close to small airports and flight schools. Then we stuck to the plan.

FM: How did that plan work out?

CH: What no one factored in was September 11th. That fateful day changed the lives of so many. Like others, Michael and I decided to have a family, and were fortunate and had two sons. They changed my life more than I could have ever imagined. I never thought I would love anything as much as flying, but my children changed my point of view. I loved my infant and toddler more than anything and stayed home for 14 years raising our boys before getting the training and hours I needed to get to where I am today.

FM: As an international airline pilot, as well as mother, author, public speaker, and philanthropist, what personal skills, tricks, and habits do you use to balance everything?

CH: I call it the law of three because I can juggle three balls at a time: Family. Flying. Book. And then there’s grace. Try to be graceful, try to allow yourself grace, and then pay attention to the task at hand and ask for help.

FM: Explain what the goals of your Jet Black Foundation are as well as the 100 Pairs of Wings Project, and tell us why this is needed.

CH: Jetblackfoundation.org was founded to recruit and train African-American female pilots. Less than one percent of our current pilot workforce is African-American and female. We have to begin to recruit from talent pools that we have never searched before. The 100 Pairs of Wings project will begin in 2025, with a goal to raise funds to put 10 Black women through flight training every year for the next 10 years. This is problem-solving that is good for business and ultimately is workforce development in its purest form.

FM: Why is it important that the aviation industry, corporations, and high-net-worth individuals support your foundation with their donations?

CH: Post-COVID travelers have returned with gusto. Private aircraft acquisition and cargo flying have also seen an increase in demand. Last summer and over the 2022 holidays, we saw record numbers of flights canceled because of staffing shortages, and those staffing challenges will continue. We must begin to think about how we solve business challenges in a different way. Recruiting in brand-new arenas is a solid strategy, and investing in people is the smartest business investment we can make.

FM: What personal or aviation similarities do you share with Bessie Coleman, who you wrote about in your book, A Pair of Wings?

CH: It’s an honor to compare any part of my being with Coleman’s legacy. But for sure I have learned from studying her and have tried to adopt some key principles that I have learned. Coleman gets lots of credit for being beautiful and brave, and she did indeed have these attributes in abundance, but what I learned from her is that she took these raw materials and turned them into problem-solving superpowers. From this observation, I have learned that obstacles have opportunity.

FM: In Michelle Obama’s latest book The Light We Carry she explains her “When they go low, we go high” mantra. As a woman of color coming up through the ranks in the airlines, did you ever have to employ that same philosophy?

CH: I smile as I write this: yes, every day! Learning how to deescalate and focus on the mission is key. I am human, so an insult, a curt response, or a mean look can be a distraction. But I don’t own that; someone else does. I have a job to do and keeping my crew and passengers safe is the only goal. Besides, it’s my decision to keep my control or to give it away. I have decided to keep it.

FM: What is the one big message you want to share directly with young girls and women of color that may read this and become inspired to follow a career path similar to yours?

CH: First, decide that if you love a thing, it’s worth the pursuit. Secondly, find a mentor. And by this I mean a guide, not necessarily a friend who rubber stamps your every move—find someone who has been where you want to go. Learn, teach, and never stop this process. Being mentored—and mentoring someone else—is the best way to continue to evolve.

Quick 6

Is there anyone living or dead you would most like to fly with? 

Two actually, Bessie Coleman and my mom.

If you could fly any airplane or helicopter you have not yet flown, what would that be?

I am thinking tall and small, so a Boeing 787 and a Pitts.

What is one airport you’ve always wanted to fly into?

The next one.

What do you believe has been aviation’s biggest breakthrough event or innovation?

The jet engine!

What is one important life lesson learned from becoming an airline pilot?

Trust in yourself. Only you can give yourself confidence, but anyone can take it away from you.

When not flying or promoting your foundation, you’d rather be…

Spending time with my husband and boys!

The post Just Getting Started appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

But, your first jet is always your favorite. OK, not really, at least not my feelings about the Tweet. But I had been flying a 150-horsepower Piper Super Cub for four years prior to entering the USAF, so to me, the T-37—with its twin 1,000-pound thrust Continental jet engines—was a big responsibility. I took each flight, solo or with an instructor, as a very serious affair, and I felt extremely blessed to be training in jets in the USAF.

The T-37 was relatively small, possessed a midwing, and sat quite low to the ground. It had side-by-side seating and a big plexiglass canopy, hinged at the back, that allowed easy access to the cockpit. The two smallish jet engines that powered it were nestled in the fuselage, slightly below each wing, with the exhaust exiting behind and below the trailing edge of the wings right next to the fuselage. The instrument panel, compared to modern jet aircraft, looked as if someone took all the displays, dials, lights, knobs, and handles needed to operate the aircraft, threw them against the panel and installed them where they hit it. Random is a word that comes to mind on the placement of some of the lights, displays, knobs, etc. There was nothing ergonomic about that instrument panel, but, hey, it was a jet, and I was strapping in to go on my second solo.

In as much as “Willy,” the nickname of Williams AFB, was a place where USAF pilots learned to fly, it was also, as we were told in our in-brief prior to the beginning of flight training, a place where the USAF trained its air traffic controllers. We were warned that sometimes the controllers would make mistakes, and to be skeptical and cautious if some ATC directives/clearances seemed unusual or unsafe. You kinda had the blind leading the blind at times when you had a solo student pilot being controlled by a controller in training; it was when another more authoritative voice came over the radio to countermand a training controller’s more tentative instruction that you knew the Supervisor Controller had taken command.

After strapping in and starting those extremely high pitched, constant noise, variable thrust engines on the Tweet, I was ready to taxi for takeoff. It was a fairly long taxi from where my Tweet was parked to the active runway. During this period in its operational life, Willy was very busy. T-38s, T-37s, and F-5s were mixing in with each other daily as they either taxied for takeoff or taxied back to their parking spots after landing, so you had to listen to the controller’s verbal taxi instructions while being wary, wondering if their instructions were tainted with some mistake.

I called ground with ATIS and told them I wanted to taxi for takeoff. They cleared me to taxi to Runway 30L, which was the normal T-37 runway; I had about a mile and a half, at least, to taxi to get to the assigned runway. Since the air conditioner on the Tweet was not very effective, we taxied with our canopy fully open; it was early summer in the desert, so it could get quite warm.

I was nervous as I prepared for this flight, yet cocky too, as I taxied out. I’d done well on my first solo, getting ‘excellents’ in all three areas in which I was graded. Having broken the ice with that fledgling foray into the wild blue of the western skies, I was looking forward to breaking the bonds of gravity without some instructor jumping on my ass about something I was screwing up. 

About two-thirds of the way to Runway 30L, after turning left onto another taxiway, ground control called.

“T-37 Solo [not my actual call sign], your aircraft is smoking,” said Ground in a casual tone and inflection.

“Roger ground, jet engines do smoke,” came my immediate response, thinking this was a controller intraining, and he’d not spent much time around jet aircraft.

“Ahhhhh, T-37 Solo, be advised that your aircraft is smoking much more than normal,” came a more authoritative voice from ground control.

I’d begun to suspect something actually might be wrong, though I was not sure what, when another voice came over the radio, and it was not ATC’s.

“Hey Ace!” came the familiar voice, “Look over your left shoulder.” It was one of the instructors in my flight (good grief). He was with his student taxiing behind me.

Since it was an instructor, and since he used the term “ace,” I felt compelled to do as he commanded; I looked over my left shoulder.

“Holy Shit!!” was my first thought as I saw a thick plume of whitish smoke being exhausted from the left engine. It filled the sky behind my jet; bloody hell, no wonder ground said my jet was smoking. All cockiness immediately left me, a modicum of fear replacing it, and I told ground that I was going to stop and do an emergency ground egress, shutting down both engines before leaving the jet. I never waited for a reply or another word from the instructor, who was now taking another route to the active runway.

As the smoke rapidly dissipated and my nerves settled, I stood off the taxiway to the side of my little Tweet; I could hear the sound of  “tinks” as hot metal cooled and the last wisps of smoke vaporized in the warm desert air. Other T-37s, T-38s, and F-5s taxied by and the pilots looked over at this pathetic student, still wearing his helmet, standing by his disabled Tweet.

A few minutes after shutting down and wondering what in the hell happened to my jet, while also wondering if I’d “FUBARed,” a maintenance truck drove up, along with an airport firetruck and a crew van. I told maintenance what happened: “smoke,” and filled out the maintenance log with the same thing I told maintenance: “Smoke.”

This article was originally published in the May 2023 Issue 937 of  FLYING.

The post When a Tweet Turns Into a Smokin’ Hot Jet appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

The Falcon 6X is, by far, Dassault’s largest, heaviest, and most powerful business jet in the 60-year history of its business jet production line.

The 6X represents a sea change in Dassault’s design focus. Falcons always have appealed to pilots, engineers, and technicians—lean, nimble, and hyper fuel-efficient.

Now, passenger comfort has become the top priority. The latest Falcon jet offers a wider floor and taller cabin than any other purpose-built private jet in current production and promises to have mid 40 dBA super-low interior noise levels. 

This results in a nearly 38-ton aircraft at max takeoff weight, so I wanted to find out if it still had the famous agility of previous Falcon jets, ones quite clearly inspired by Dassault’s famed Mirage and Rafale fighters. Or, considering its apparent heft, would it handle more like a tour ’Bus from Toulouse?”

A. Single or dual FalconEye head up displays with40-degree wide and 30-degree vertical fields of view are highly desirable options.

B. EASy IV primary flight displays provide 3D depictions of airport environments, including sign posts for taxiways, runways and ramps. Sirius XM satellite radio weather, ADS-B IN traffic advisories, and Honeywell ROAAS also are available.

C. The fly-by-wire sidestick commands pitch and roll attitude. Dassault uses path stable pitch control law for “carefree” handling.

D. Left and right tablet computer docking stations provide a full range of electronic flight bag functions.

E. The 6X is one of few business jets to have both all-en-gine and one-engine-inoperative autothrottle functions.

Setting New Standards

For the record, the Falcon 6X actually grew to be bigger in cabin volume, heavier overall, and more powerful than originally intended. Development began in 2009 as Falcon 5X when Dassault abandoned plans to develop a new super-midsize aircraft in favor of a much larger and longer-range next-gen model. The Falcon 5X was announced in October 2013. Dassault planned to deliver the aircraft to the first customers in late 2016.

Dassault’s design goals were to create a new standard in cabin comfort by offering business aviation’s widest and tallest cabin, to achieve 15 percent better fuel-efficiency than competitors, and to preserve competitive speed and range. When launched in 2009, the Falcon 5X’s main competitors were the 4,200 nm range, Mach 0.80 [459 ktas] Gulfstream G450; and the 5,100 nm range, Mach 0.82 [470 ktas] Bombardier Global 5000. Dassault targeted 5,200 nm with eight passengers at 459 knots true for the Falcon 5X, enabling it to fly from Los Angeles to Paris on the same fuel that a G450 would need to fly from Los Angeles to Reykjavik.

Being a Falcon, it would be a technological tour-de-force, starting with its digital fly-by-wire flight controls. Dassault pioneered FBW in business jets with its Falcon 7X that entered service in 2007, borrowing heavily from technologies it had used for 40 years in its fighter jets, including its Mach 2-class Rafale.

Fly By Wire

Stability and performance are classic trade-offs in both military and civil aircraft designs. The more agile performance, the more stability must be sacrificed. The Rafale that I flew 16 years ago is a classic example. It’s so frenetically unstable that without digital flight controls, it’s nearly impossible for anyone other than a skilled test pilot to fly. Fit a Rafale with FBW, and it becomes as docile as a Falcon 10.

Unlike the Falcon 10, though, the Rafale will maintain its flight path if you let go of the controls, even with changes in speed or aircraft configuration. The Rafale also has full flight envelope protection. Yank and bank until you nearly black out. If you reef back the stick to the stops, you can’t overstress it, stall it,or cause it to spin. Dassault’s term is “carefree handling.” The pilot is free to concentrate on higher priority tasks, such as navigating around threats, checking six for bandits, delivering ordnance on target, or shooting down the bad guys.

• READ MORE: Dassault Wins EASA and FAA Certification on the Falcon 6X

Unlike the latest fighter jets, all Falcon jets are inherently stable. But, as with its military aircraft, Dassault upgraded its newer Falcon jets with FBW controls to slash pilot workload, incorporate flight envelope protection, and improve passenger comfort. Simply put, FBW makes the Falcons easier, safer, and more comfortable to fly. 

The Falcon 5X would have Dassault’s latest version of FBW flight controls, integrating nose wheel steering, plus slats and flaps. It also would be the first business jet to be fitted with flaperons, trailing edge devices that combine flap and aileron functions. When deflected in harmony with the ailerons, flaperons increase roll control authority, thus improving controllability at low speeds. When the flight spoilers are used, the flaperons deflect downward while the ailerons deflect upward to increase drag, minimize buffeting and unload the outboard wing sections. Note to self: The flaperons could make it lither than it looks.

Transforming Tech

Two enabling technologies were the keys to the Falcon 5X’s success. First was Dassault’s unmatched ability to build lightweight, low-drag airframes. TheFalcon 5X’s empty weight would be 5,000 pounds less than a G450 and 12,000 pounds lighter than a Global 5000. Second was Safran’s new 11,450 lb.-thrust Snecma Silvercrest turbofan engines, which promised 15 percent better fuel efficiency than competitive engines, along with considerably lower emissions.

The Silvercrest would be Safran’s first fully homegrown civil aircraft turbofan. The challenges proved too daunting, especially in developing the core or high-pressure section. After Silvercrest failed to meet a series of performance benchmarks, causing unacceptable delays in the Falcon 5X certification campaign, Dassault fired Safran as engine supplier and halted the Falcon 5X program in late 2017.

Safran subsequently settled with Dassault for €250 million. But, Dassault had already invested several million more euros in the Falcon 5X, so it wasn’t about to cancel the program entirely. It swiftly moved to morph the Falcon 5X into a new model, soon to be launched as the Falcon 6X.

Time was of the essence, as Bombardier planned to replace the Global 5000 with the faster and more fuel-efficient Global 5500, and Gulfstream was about to drop the dated G450 for the 30-knot faster, higher flying, roomier, and more fuel-efficient G500, first of the G-VII family. Bombardier also added more fuel capacity to the Global 5500, stretching its range to 6,000 nm. The Gulfstream G500 could fly 5,400 nm, 1,200 nm more than G450. The competitive landscape obviously had undergone a revolution in the years since the Falcon 5X was announced.

To prevent its next-gen Falcon from becoming an also-ran in the race with the Canadians and Americans—or worse yet, a still-born—Dassault needed to find a suitable replacement engine without delay. It also needed to give the aircraft more range to keep it in the running with the updated Global 5500 and clean-sheet G500.

By the end of 2017, Dassault found an engine for the Falcon 6X. It was the 13,500 lb.-thrust Pratt & Whitney PW812D turbofan, essentially a scaled-down version of the PW814GA Pure Power engine used on the Gulfstream G500. Of prime importance, PW800 series engines were a low-risk choice, as they use the same high-pressure sections as Pratt & Whitney’s geared turbofan engines. In airline use, the GTFs have logged more than 18 million hours of fleet time. The engine core has proven to be rock-solid reliable.

The PW812D produces 2,000 pounds more thrust than the Silvercrest engine, but a pair add 900-plus pounds of installed weight. Dassault countered this weight by stretching the Falcon 6X fuselage 20 inches ahead of the wing and adding an extra cabin window on each side. The stretch makes the cabin 4 percent longer, affording passengers more comfort.

Dassault also added 5,590 pounds more belly tank fuel ca-pacity to boost maximum range by 300 to 5,500 nm. However,that’s at Mach 0.80 or 459 ktas, compared with Mach 0.85 for the competition. The Falcon 6X’s range at Mach 0.85 drops to 5,100 nm.

The PW812D engines, fuselage stretch, and bigger belly tanks boost the Falcon 6X’s empty weight by 2,700 pounds. With extra fuel, max takeoff weight is increased 7,860 pounds compared to the 5X. The considerably more powerful Pratt & Whitney engines endow the Falcon 6X with a better thrust-to-weight ratio than the Falcon 5X with Silvercrest turbofans, so the aircraft still is a strong performer. Even though wing area remains the same and wing loading goes up 11 percent, the Falcon 6X takeoff distances at max take-off weight are very close to those of the competition. On more typical 2-hour trips, the Falcon 6X needs less than 3,000 feet of pavement when departing a sea-level, standard-day airport. That’s on par with a Beechcraft King Air 360.

Suiting Up To Fly

I traveled to Dassault’s flight test facility at Istres-LeTubé to fly the Falcon 6X a few months before it was slated for FAA and EASA certification. A visit to LeTubé is always a treat because you’re up close to the Mirage 2000, Rafale, and C-135 air refueler operations. The day I flew the Falcon 6X, we had to share the runway with Rafale pilots in the “bounce pattern”—field carrier landing practice in preparation for carrier qualification. 

Serial Number 4, the aircraft I would fly, is intended to be a customer demo aircraft, so it was equipped with a whole raft of options, including the FalconEye wide field-of-view HUD and combined vision system, one of the best with which I’ve yet flown; optional Iridium and KA-band SATCOM for high-speed WiFi and VOIP mobile phone calling for the passengers; cabin humidifier; HEPA air conditioning filters; extended galley, and several other items that added 1,237 pounds to its empty weight. Even so, the tanks-full payload was 1,750 pounds, enough for eight passengers and their bags, plus plenty of catering and beverages. For my demo flight, I would fly left seat, Dassault’s chief test pilot Phillipe Duchateau would be in the right seat as my instructor, and Fabrice “Tom” Valette—lead Falcon 6X test pilot—would occupy the jump seat as safety pilot. As the aircraft was still in experimental status, the uniform of the day would be blue Nomex flight suits for the three of us.

The demo was also the 54th test flight, so we carefully briefed the maneuvers on the test card [aka “the dance card”]. The main purpose of the mission was to provide me with the opportunity to evaluate the aircraft’s stability and agility.

Filled with 17,000 pounds of jet-A and accounting for start and taxi fuel burn, our computed takeoff weight was 59,000 pounds. That was enough fuel to fly from Istres-Le Tubé to Gander, Newfoundland, or Dubai, UAE. If the aircraft had been full of fuel and with eight passengers aboard, we could have flown from Le Tubé to Seattle, São Paulo, or Ho Chi Minh City [aka Saigon].

Ready to Taxi

Using the normal slats and flaps 2 position for takeoff, our V speeds were 117 knots for the V₁ takeoff decision speed and V_R rotation speed, 121 knots for the V₂ one engine inoperative climb speed, and 151 knots to retract slats and flaps. Those comparatively low V speeds are worth noting because the Falcon 6X has the highest wing loading of any current production purpose-built business jet. Without Dassault’s signature full-span leading edge slats, those V speeds would have been at least 20 knots higher.

Belting into my seat, I was immediately impressed with the size of the flight deck windows and room for pilots. The window area is a third larger than in the Falcon 8X. I’ve not flown a business jet with bigger windows or better visibility outside of a Cirrus Vision Jet.

Dassault’s flight test ground crew already had the APU running, so everything up front had electrical power when we entered the flight deck. Duchateau was busy programming the aircraft’s EASy IV [enhanced avionics system, fourth-generation] computer with crew weights, fuel load, and allowances for spares and stores.

The 6X has much shorter checklists than previous Falcons because several systems are more automated. But the flow pattern of checks and flight deck layout closely resemble those of its predecessors that I’ve flown. There just are fewer switches, buttons, and knobs that need to be touched during normal operations. When necessary, however, it’s easy for pilots to intervene and exercise adult supervision over the computers. Dassault takes special steps to avoid pilots having to ask, “What’s it doing now?”

To start the engines, I needed only to move the throttles to idle and turn one central knob to “start.” That would automatically initiate start, first for the right engine, then for the left. For this flight, though, we overrode the automatic two-engine start feature and started one engine at a time to allow the ground crew to make some post-start checks related to flight test.

Once the main entry door was closed, I was impressed with the low interior sound levels. Releasing the parking brake, it took just a little thrust to start the aircraft moving. All the FBW Falcons do away with steering tillers. It’s all done through the rudder pedals, with nose wheel steering progressively increasing with pedal movement and decreasing with taxi speed. I found the brakes to be a little touchy, but my technique got better with practice.

EASy IV, similar to Gulfstream’s Symmetry avionics package, provides 2D airport moving maps and 3D synthetic vision of the airport environment, including signposts for ramps, taxiways, and runways; depictions of buildings; and, eventually, ADS-B In images of proximate aircraft and ground service vehicles. Upgraded EASy also supports Sirius XM weather and Honeywell’s Runway Overrun Awareness and Alerting System.

These aren’t gimmicks. Every pilot with whom I’ve spoken raves about Sirius XM satellite weather as a strategic planning tool. ROASS warns pilots of landing fast, touching down long, or braking too gently. And importantly for me, taxiing between ramp and runway in poor visibility and/or darkness is much more challenging than flying it from takeoff to touchdown. Dense fog increases the risks of getting lost on the ramp, rolling off the pavement, or having to slam on the brakes. EASy IV’s 3D airport moving maps take a lot of the stress out of ground maneuvering.

For flight, in contrast, I like to spend most of my time looking out of the aircraft, not head down, hawking the instrument panel. That’s when the optional FalconEye HUD showed its value. All imagery is focused at infinity, so it enhances distance vision that’s so critical to spotting risks. Aircraft attitude, flight path trajectory, heading, and bank angle, among other essentials, all are displayed 1:1 with the outside world, so the HUD promotes situational awareness using basic visual references. You only have to glance down occasionally to check fuel quantity, engine instruments, and systems status. The FalconEye also has multi-spectral infrared and visible light sensors that provide certified enhanced vision system credit, along with synthetic vision, enabling the crew to earn approval to fly down to 100-foot ceilings on instrument approaches. For me, the HUD is the greatest safety breakthrough since the advent of the windshield.

On The Takeoff Roll

Once cleared for takeoff, we used a FOD prevention technique to reduce the chance those pricey PW812Ds would swallow debris that could damage them. I advanced thrust to 52 percent N1 fan speed, waited until the aircraft was rolling at 45 kias, and then pushed forward on the power levers to the stops. At our relatively light weight, the aircraft’s weight-to-thrust ratio was nearly 2:1. Acceleration was a whole lot sportier than the Falcon 8X I last flew a few years ago.

When Duchateau called “V1, Rotate!”, mild back pressure on the sidestick was all I needed to set 15 degrees nose up. With a positive rate of climb, we retracted the gear. As the FBW system uses path-stable pitch control law, I didn’t need to move the sidestick as the 6X accelerated, automatically trimming the horizontal stab. At V₂ + 30 knots, we retracted the slats and flaps, turned toward the Mediterranean, engaged the autothrottles, and settled into a 250-kias climb to 15,000 feet.

Impressively Agile

Once leveled at 15,000 feet, it was time to begin the big dance. This would start with baby steps, progressing to break dance moves. I first used gentle sidestick pressure to roll the aircraft into a left 30-degree angle of bank and then reversed it to the right. With a light touch, the Falcon 6X moved with the uber-soft restraint. If passengers had been aboard, there was no chance of rattling silverware, shifting china plates, or spilling that 2010 Chateau Dassault St. Emilion.

Then, I started making more assertive sidestick inputs, rolling the aircraft rapidly between 60 degrees left and right. Healthy springs inside the sidestick control boxes prevent pilots from making such spirited moves inadvertently, but if you muscle this aircraft around at 250 knots like a 25-year-old Rafale pilot, it responds with alacrity and aplomb.

Slow-speed agility usually is more of a challenge for a large-cabin jet. I disengaged the autothrottle and let the airplane decelerate until the sidestick was on the backstop. The outboard slats automatically extended,and we were alerted by aural and visual warnings that we should lower the nose and recover. We kept the sidestick firmly against the stops as the aircraft stabilized at VMIN, the highest angle of attack allowed by the FBW system, which is just a few knots above aerodynamic stall. Nose attitude eased down to just below the horizon and the VSI plunged.

With the sidestick fully aft, I started rolling the aircraft 30 degrees left and right. In spite of the abuse, the Falcon 6X sank as gracefully and obediently as with a dozen other Falcons I’ve flown. High alpha maneuvering is as dramatic as in a Piper J-3 Cub.

Next, we configured the aircraft for landing with gear down and slats/flaps extended, stabilizing it at the 125-knot V_REF landing reference speed, plus 10 knots padding for maneuvering.

Starting with gentle banks, I progressed to full sidestick deflection rolls to 40 degrees left and right. Whoa. That’s when the flaperons revealed their true roll control power. The Falcon 6X may look plump on the ramp, but in the air I found it as impressively agile as older Falcons.

Crisp, Precise, Confident

After our stability and control checks, it was time to return to Istres-Le Tubé for abbreviated pattern work. To hasten our descent, I pulled the air brake lever back to position 1 [AB1]. The ailerons deflected up and the flaperons deflected down, creating plenty of drag without changing nose attitude significantly. There was almost imperceptible airframe buffeting. Dassault plans to certify the use of AB1 with gear, slats, and flaps extended to stabilize aircraft descent rate for steep approach approval, needed for London City and Lugano, Switzerland, airport operations. I’ll wager it will be just as valuable for flying into Aspen, Colorado, with its 6.49-degree or 6.59-degree final approach glide paths.

If maximum drag is required, say for an emergency descent, pulling the lever back to AB2 causes all four spoiler panels on the wings to extend, resulting in a high rate of descent. Normally, the spoilers only are used during landing roll to dump lift, thus improving main wheel traction and braking effectiveness. All the trailing edge high lift devices also deflect upward onlanding to enhance lift dump.

As we approached the airport, we noted a 20-knot overshooting left crosswind on Runway 33. Not a problem in this aircraft. I just crabbed into the wind until 50 feet above the concrete, where I pulled the thrust to idle, held the nose attitude relatively flat, pushed in a little right rudder, and settled in for a feathery touchdown. That surely was a reflection of the aircraft’s long-travel, soft oleo main landing gear, not my flying finesse. Duchateau commented that it’s nearly impossible to embarrass yourself by crunching down in this aircraft, even for newbies.

We reconfigured on the roll for a touch-and-go and flew around for a second landing. This time, Duchateau had me offset 500 feet to the right of centerline. About 1,000 feet above touchdown height, he had me make an aggressive alignment maneuver to centerline. The aircraft responded crisply, precisely, and confidently. At 500 feet, we were stabilized on centerline and VASI glidepath. Using the same landing technique as before, the aircraft touched the runway as though I had logged 2,000 hours in type, not two.

The Falcon 6X, as with all other aircraft, has its design trade-offs. A 5,500 nm trip flown at the Falcon 6X’s Mach 0.80 long-range cruise speed takes 45 minutes longer than one flown in a competitor cruising at Mach 0.85. Push it up to Mach 0.85, and the range drops to 5,100 nm, still sufficient for Paris to Portland, London to Tokyo, or Beijing to San Francisco.

Unrefueled short-haul missions are this aircraft’s strong suit because of its comparatively high max landing weight. Depart Van Nuys for a five-leg trip to Tucson, El Paso, Salt Lake City, Portland, and back to Van Nuys, and you’ll never tap the fuel truck until you’re back in Southern California.

You can also fly from Washington, D.C., to Teterboro, then on to Rome—across the pond—without refueling. That’s a nice flight plan to consider.

Crème de la Crème 

Passengers, not pilots, buy most large-cabin airplanes. Along with speed and range, comfort and convenience weigh heavily on the purchase decision. Falcon 6X’s high wing loading and flexible wing structure, along with the stability controls built into its FBW system, should make it tops in class for a pillow-soft ride.

The cabin has 30 windows, each about 10 percent bigger in area than on older Falcons, that flood the cabin with daylight and that make it feel larger than it measures. Just ahead of the galley, there’s a crew lavatory and swiveling third crewmember seat.

The 10.2 psi pressurization system assures cabin altitudes at or below 4,800 feet at typical cruising altitudes. The 155 cubic foot aft baggage compartment is fully accessible in flight. There is another 76 cubic foot unpressurized compartment for golf clubs, skis, snow-boards, or mountain bikes.

The standard 12-seat floor plan includes a typical four-chair club section up front, a four-seat conference grouping in mid-cabin, and a three-place sofa sleeper plus single chair in the aft cabin. There are power outlets throughout the cabin for tablets, laptops, and phones. The optional satcom WiFi system provides dozens of channels of audio/visual entertainment and full-time broadband connectivity.

Quite clearly, the Falcon 6X delivers a crème de la crème passenger experience befitting a Comtesse de Champagne. Up front, I’ll wager that pilots will find that it provides that it tops any Falcon they’ve previously flown for handling ease, situational awareness, and low workload. As Dassault’s first foray into ultra-large private jets, the Falcon 6X retains top honors as one of the nicest flying airplanes ever to wear rouge, blanc, et bleu.

Dassault Falcon 6X

• Price (as tested, estimated): $56 million
• High Cruise Speed: 505 ktas
• Max Mach Number: 0.90 MMO
• NBAA IFR range (2 crew + 4 pax): 5,570 nm
• Takeoff Distance, 1,000 nm/NBAA IFR: 2,915 ft.
• Landing Distance, Unfactored/NBAA IFR: 2,460 ft.
• Max Operating Altitude: 51,000 ft.
• Length: 84 ft., 3 in.
• Wingspan: 85 ft., 1 in.
• Height: 24 ft., 6 in.
• Cabin Length*: 40 ft., 4 in.
• Cabin Width*: 8 ft., 6 in.
• Cabin Height*: 6 ft., 6 in.
• Maximum Payload: 3,803 lb.
• Payload, Full Fuel: 1,753 lb.
• Pressurized Stowage: 155 cubic ft.
• Aft Cargo Stowage: 76 cubic ft.*preliminary figures

This article was originally published in the May 2023 Issue 937 of  FLYING.

The post We Fly: Dassault Falcon 6X appeared first on FLYING Magazine.