Chris Thomas, by contrast, made it into his 20s before taking the plunge. Employed as a professional firefighter in Virginia Beach, he earned a VFR Commercial certificate, a stepping stone to the ATP certificate, and flew on the side, towing banners up and down the beach and saving his money to finish other flight training when the banner tugs were parked in the offseason. “I chose to make the leap when I was about 28. At that time, I was looking at the long-term challenge of an airline career, and I think that kind of sucked me in. I loved aviation, and it’s a job where, if you choose, you learn something new every day.” 

Now, Thomas’s day job is a check airman on the Embraer 190, a role he’s enjoyed for 21 years. When newly qualified pilots leave the simulator and step into the airplane, check airmen are the first captains they fly with and the final instructors of their training program. “I have had the opportunity to be with people on their first day of the rest of their career,” he says. “It is an opportunity to stay engaged, help, coach, mentor and instruct.” 

Like a siren’s song, the career beckons, rooted all the way back to childhood dreams and aspirations. Ask any airline pilot if it’s worth it, and the chances are the reply you get will be an emphatic, “Yes!”

“The top careers every kid wants to do are to become an astronaut or an athlete,” said Kit Darby, an industry analyst and consultant whose company studies hiring trends and the careers of pilots. “The third spot is almost always being a pilot.” Statistically, he said, the athlete and astronaut ideas aren’t a likely outcome except for a very talented few. While airline pilots are a tiny, tiny fragment of the overall population, there are a lot more aviators with epaulets on their shoulders than there are Olympians or professional athletes. 

A Hiring Frenzy

And with the world emerging in fits and starts from the coronavirus pandemic, the airlines are, much to the surprise of many, swinging into a full-on hiring frenzy. It takes a serious commitment of time and money—years and possibly more than $100,000—to reach the right seat of a passenger jet. It’s a big leap, but if you’ve ever wanted to become an airline pilot, the future is bright. But if you want to become an airline pilot, there’s one big ticket to earn—the Airline Transport Pilot certificate, and while it’s a daunting goal, this capstone ticket and the career it enables are attainable if you persevere.

It takes a serious commitment of time and money…but if you’ve ever wanted to become an airline pilot, the future is bright.

The Latest Swing In A Repeated Cycle

Airlines have swung between record losses and peak earnings for most of the industry’s history. The industry’s mandatory retirement at age 65 means that thousands of pilots are in the final years of their careers. Over the decades, a variety of factors have caused serious industry downturns—the oil crisis of the 1970s, the terrorist attacks of 2001 coupled with economic woes, and a spike in oil prices with a couple of other factors around 2009 being prime examples. Between these lows, the industry swelled with growth—and pilot hiring.

The COVID-19 pandemic took an industry from the peak of profitability and absolutely gutted it in a matter of weeks, as countries slammed their borders shut and passenger jets that hardly cooled off between flights began to gather dust. Once it became apparent that two weeks would not be the turnaround time that optimists had hoped for, many airliners wound up parked en masse at desert airports such as Pinal Airpark, Arizona, or Vacaville, California, with their landing gear and engines wrapped in plastic. Regional carriers ExpressJet, Trans States Airlines and Ravn Air ceased operations altogether in the pandemic. Furlough warnings went out to thousands of pilots at other carriers as business leaders and elected officials scrambled to keep the entire industry—a pillar of the American economy—from failing altogether. 

While the industry’s slump was dramatic, so was the support offered by the federal government via CARES Act funding that kept the industry alive. The act of Congress provided funding for about half the payroll at many carriers to get them through the rough spot. The government’s support was for a multitude of reasons—the industry is huge, and a collapse could have put hundreds of thousands of people out of work. Airlines are also vital to the military: As participants in the Civil Reserve Air Fleet, they can help mobilize military troops and cargo when needed. The funds provided via CARES funding kept folks employed and also helped airlines maintain a hawkish position to leap into action as the recovery allowed. Worldwide, thousands of pilots were fired, furloughed or made redundant, and many airlines may have flown their final flight. Without funding from the CARES Act, Darby said, air carriers in America would have been in the exact same situation.

While the COVID-forced downturn was immediate and drastic, the rebound, at least for domestic air travel, is nearly as strong. With vaccinations on the rise and travelers sidelined for the last year and a half, airlines are seeing a strong uptick in travel. Airplanes were brought back from storage as quickly as possible, and training departments were overwhelmed by getting pilots current who hadn’t touched the controls in months. Those simulator bays and classrooms are now redirected to bringing new pilots on board; a trough between waves has seemingly passed. 

The bottom line is, it’s time to get moving if you’ve been contemplating a career aloft. 

What’s It TakeTo Earn An ATP?

The list of qualifications for the certificate is long and written by lawyers. That said, the basics are clear, so let’s take a look at what the requirements are in their basic terms. 

In addition to the ATP Certificate Program (which we’ll look at separately) and written exam, aviators seeking the ATP certificate must be age 23 or older, read, write and speak the English language, and be of good moral character. (As you might have guessed, no one has any real idea what that last part means). Flight experience requirements include 100 hours at night, 250 hours pilot-in-command, and 500 hours of cross-country flight. Because this cross-country time is required for certification, flights between airports must be 50 miles or more—you’ll want to make sure you’re not counting weekend hamburger runs across a few towns up toward this requirement. There’s also a requirement for 50 hours of instrument training time. 

In the last decade, the ATP has changed by the addition of a new R-ATP ticket. The Restricted Airline Transport Pilot certificate allows exemptions to age or total time requirements. Instead of a hard-and-fast requirement for 1,500 total hours, military pilots can cut the total time requirement in half to 750 hours; civilians who’ve graduated from aviation degree programs at approved schools can earn the rating at 1,000 hours if they hold a four-year degree or 1,250 hours with a two-year degree. The R-ATP has a minimum age requirement of 21 instead of 23. When R-ATP certificated pilots reach the age or experience requirements for a full ATP certificate, the pilot will simply present documentation that they’ve reached the age and/or experience requisites and have their certificate converted to a full ATP. 

An Accident Changed Training For The Career

Until 2013, airlines could hire first officers with a brand-new multi-engine commercial certificate and put them into the right seat of their jets once they completed training. Several regional airlines were hiring pilots with just over 200 hours. 

This changed because of Colgan Air Flight 3407’s crash while on approach to Buffalo, New York. These changes came unconventionally—instead of the FAA’s normal rulemaking process with periods of public comment to influence the decisions made, the families of crash victims marched on Capitol Hill, and Congress drafted a law requiring more robust qualifications for airline pilots. The law, signed Aug. 1, 2010, set a timeline into place that required all first officers at airlines to hold an ATP certificate by 2014, and it reshaped the path to an ATP certificate. Before, pilots could take the written (often after memorizing a gigantic bank of test questions and answers), meet the basic requirements, and go take an ATP check ride. The new regulation introduced the ATP Certificate Training Program, a completely new component to the certificate. The ATP-CTP is taught according to a rigorous syllabus, including a set number of hours in the classroom as well as four hours in a Fixed-Base Training Device and six hours in a full-motion simulator. The CTP, incidentally, is not required for single-engine ATP applicants. 

The CTP, as defined by the regs, is designed to cover the gap in knowledge between a freshly minted commercial pilot and a working airline pilot because once an airline pilot finishes training and has been on the line for a hundred hours or so, they’re treated the same as a pilot with thousands of hours and decades of experience. The FAA prescribes a set number of hours to be spent training on certain topics that really didn’t come up with old training methods. 

The subjects include the following: 

Aerodynamics

Students spend at least eight hours on the subject of aerodynamic principles as they apply to transport aircraft. Topics include high-altitude operations, encompassing the narrow margins between stall and overspeed encountered at cruising altitude. It’s not just additional busywork. The new approach gives students a chance to learn more about the topic than Mach Tuck being answer D on question 3194 or that Coffin Corner is more than the vampire section at a Halloween costume shop. Class time is expected to include kinetic and potential energy and the effects of bank angle on operating margins as well as characteristics of flying swept-wing aircraft, such as Dutch Roll. 

Stall recovery might seem simple to those who’ve done most of their stall training in aircraft with light wing loading and immediate power availability. In a small trainer, such as those built by light aircraft manufacturers Piper or Cessna, you could just release the back pressure on the controls, advance the throttle and fly away. In a jet at altitude, the power simply isn’t there, and an aggressive response to recover from a stalled state is required. Moreover, a secondary stall (that is, a stall following shortly after the initial one) is a serious threat, even for seasoned pilots. 

The FAA usually doesn’t take drastic action unless the ink is written in blood, and this section is especially applicable. In addition to the Colgan 3407 crash that triggered this action, Air France 447’s crew misinterpreted flight instruments on a dark night on a perfectly flying airplane and consequently crashed it into the sea. 

Unlike decades ago, when grizzled flight instructors poked an arthritic finger at the altimeter and emphasized preserving altitude in the recovery, the emphasis now is to recover using whatever altitude is needed without hitting the ground while keeping the airplane flying safely. This section also includes unusual attitude recovery, which is taught for both high and low altitude scenarios to cover the varying approaches to regain a safe flight path.

Meteorology

Requiring just two hours, this section is short but important, as airline pilots need to understand weather since the option to sit it out and wait for a nicer day is rarely used. Topics covered include windshear, turbulence and in-flight icing as well as on-ground de-icing and anti-icing procedures, low-visibility operation and landing on snow-covered runways potentially with poor braking action available. All are covered in what is necessarily a brief but intense bit of study.  

Air Carrier Operations

With 14 hours of classroom time allocated, this is the meat and potatoes of the course. Students study the daily routine of being an airline pilot, including such topics as recognizing fitness for duty, fatigue and hypoxia oxygen deprivation. There are also sections on flight deck communications and conducting effective briefings between pilots, flight attendants and passengers. The prescribed topics get into the weeds, covering subjects such as inoperative or missing equipment, avoiding taxiing onto a runway without clearance to do so and dealing with airport movement areas/ramp procedures. Among other topics, Crew Resource Management is taught as well as an overview of safety culture and voluntary safety programs. 

Once a pilot completes the CTP course, they can take the ATP written, which itself is a daunting challenge. Because the FAA no longer publishes its bank of questions for the written exams, the days of memorizing all the right answers are gone. That means you’re going to spend a good bit of time in study guides covering a wealth of knowledge before you sit down for the exam. 

If you’re looking to do the CTP on your own, sit down for this. You’re looking at about $4,000 out of pocket, and your only “flying” will be in the simulator. But if you’re looking to join the ranks at a regional airline, many of them have partnerships with flight schools where the airline picks up the tab. Some let you do the course in-house as a part of their training. You’ve just got to rack up the hours to be eligible first.

With a fresh ATP in your pocket and a new job title on your resume, life begins to change. You’ll be away from home all the time, often when things back at the ranch go wrong.

Ab Initio: Rhymes With “Zero To Hero”

Traditionally, pilots who hired on at airlines in America knocked out all the required ratings on their own dime before the company would even interview them. For years, Southwest Airlines even required a Boeing 737 type rating before you could start class at the company. (And many other carriers took note of applicants with a 737-type rating with zero hours in the airplane, figuring they’d be a gamble to hire knowing these candidates for the job would likely bail out the moment Southwest called with a job offer.) Some regionals made their pilots pay for their own type ratings at points when the supply of pilots far outstripped the jobs available. 

Several foreign carriers had ab initio training programs in place for decades—Lufthansa started training its pilots in Phoenix, Arizona, more than 30 years ago. The school, first operated by Pacific Southwest Airlines and purchased by Lufthansa in 1992, trains pilots from zero hours in a very regimented environment that is specifically tailored to train students for their position in the right seat of an airliner in Europe. Several Asian carriers had similar deals with American flight schools as well. 

But American students bound for American carriers were kind of on their own. Whether they did their training at a college, trained at a flight school, or rented at an FBO, they were expected to meet the requirements for the job before they applied. 

In April 2018, JetBlue became the first airline in America to put together a program like Lufthansa. The first students in its Gateway Select program earned their CFIs and started building time toward their ATP certificates. The program featured a structured flight-training phase for the students to earn their certificates, followed by a period where the student became instructor to build hours toward the ATP, a process that typically lasted about two years. The payoff was becoming first officers with the airline. 

Warren Christie, the airline’s head of safety, security and air operations, calls the program a success. “This milestone with the first class further proves our competency-based pathway works and provides a new path of entry for those who never saw commercial aviation as a career option.” 

Other airlines, facing similar challenges, took note. In recent years, Delta, United, American and Southwest all created similar programs. There are differences between each, of course, but the basic idea is the same. Candidates are screened based on varying factors at different companies but getting a first-class medical (required for ATPs) is usually a first step, along with basic testing to ensure candidates will be able to learn the material. Delta’s Propel program begins with flight training at a number of partner universities and colleges that have R-ATP programs. Some of the other airlines, such as Southwest’s Destination 225°, offer programs available to students who haven’t even attended college. 

As with JetBlue’s program, after earning their certificates and ratings, students then instruct or fly professionally with partner companies to get to applicable ATP minimums before joining the ranks of the sponsoring airline. These programs are very structured and offer a turn-key solution for launching one’s career. Students are left with very little to figure out on their own. You sign the agreement, put your money down, and fly what the company provides. 

Yes, there is that money thing. These solutions aren’t cheap. Southwest advertises that its cadet program is “less than $100K,” JetBlue’s Gateway Select is $107,000, and United’s Aviate program seems to be the bargain at $71,250. Its website advertises that it’s giving you the private certificate for free in that deal. Right.  

Scholarships are available to offset some of these costs, but at the end of the day, you’re going to be on the hook for a hefty student loan with any of these programs. 

It’s A Career And A Lifestyle

With a fresh ATP in your pocket and a new job title on your resume, life begins to change. You’ll be away from home all the time, often when things back at the ranch go wrong. But you’ll also see places you’ve never been, and Johnny Cash’s “I’ve Been Everywhere” starts to feel more like an autobiography than an oldie. 

But as you gain seniority, you’ll enjoy more time off and a little more control over your schedule. Historically, regional pilots often needed side work, especially as first officers, but pay rates have climbed, and the need for outside work isn’t what it used to be. That said, interestingly, the free time that comes with the career and the personalities of airline pilots often conspire to seek out ways of staying busy. 

For example, Chris Thomas has two side jobs: He teaches Upset Prevention and Recovery training for Prevailance Aerospace, where his students come from a variety of backgrounds: corporate, collegiate and governmental. His other side job is the one you might recognize: He flies an antique military plane, North American SNJ number two, for the Geico Skytypers Air Show Team. “The airline career is a lifestyle, and everyone may not like it,” he said. “I have come to appreciate the flexibility of and low cost of non-rev travel, along with the schedule, usually 18 days off a month. Frankly, the time off and pay are what make my other two jobs possible.” 

Thomas adds, “Make sure that you have fun along the way. I see the colleges and universities selling a program to create a career, and I realize that none of those people ever got into an aircraft for the purpose of having fun. It was always in pursuit of a rating. Often, they are the most unhappy,” Thomas said. “Don’t let technology be the fun of aviation. Sure, you have to understand and utilize it. But I see lots of new pilots missing basic skills because they now climb into an RJ with 1,500 hours and are convinced that they have ’made it’ and that the learning is over. It never stops.”

Mike Laramee, an Airbus A320 first officer, echoed the importance of finding joy along the way, even though your career progression may meander away from the original plan.  “There are lots of rewarding paths to pilot happiness, and I have enjoyed aspects of all of my jobs. Being an airline pilot brings the most financial reward for the fewest days away from home. I would tell the new guys just starting out to enjoy each airplane and job, whether Aeronca or Airbus. Remember that part of being a professional is always trying to be the best you can be at your current job.”

That job, just about every airline pilot will tell you, is a challenging one, true, but one that carries with it rewards you won’t find anywhere else. 

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ATP says that its Airline Career Pilot Program students go from zero hours and in just seven months graduate as commercial multi-engine pilots and CFIs. “Pilots graduating on this accelerated timeline,” ATP said in its release announcing the grand opening, “are in a competitive position to capitalize on a post-pandemic pilot shortage and quickly establish their careers.”

The center will be ready to go. Students there will be flying Cessna 172s outfitted with Garmin G1000 NXi and Piper Archers. ATP is also in the process of adding “factory-new Pipers” to the mix to accommodate what it says is a busy training marketplace. The center, by the way, is also home to an ATP maintenance facility that will take care of the fleet and help keep time on the ground to a minimum.

The Dallas area is a great location for another reason. As the main hub for American Airlines, job opportunities are key. ATP says that more than 650 of its students have signed on with American or its partner Envoy Air.

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For as long as there have been airline flights or railroad passages or ships sailing the ocean blue, there have been deadheads. As crews move machines about the face of the planet, they frequently find themselves “out of place.” To the airline pilot, deadheading is a fact of life. It’s frequently met with a groan when it pops up on the schedule, but there are certainly times (bad weather, extended days) when a deadhead elicits a sigh of relief. For many years, our deadheads were paid at 50%, which added to the groan factor. With better labor agreements, we now get paid as if the deadhead were a regular flight, so usually it’s a tolerable experience.

Flying like a passenger, and specifically with the passengers, can be a challenge. I’m not allowed, of course, to grumble about the leg room or the crying baby or the boorish “Million Mile” businessman two rows ahead. I’m still in uniform and representing my airline to the world. I try to be helpful to other passengers, encourage their compliance with the rules, and offer my keen attention to the flight attendant as he does his safety announcement. Sometimes I’m the only one.

Beyond appearances and proprieties, though, riding in the back is certainly different for a pilot than for a passenger. We can seldom just sit and read a book. By virtue of my uniform, I become a minor celebrity when I’m sitting in 6A. Passengers stare as they walk by, as if they can’t quite cipher it out. “That’s a pilot. He flies the plane,” they say to their children, pointing at me all the while like I was an animal at the zoo.

If the passenger in question has had a rough trip, I’ll frequently be the target of whispered—loudly whispered—commentary on the airline industry in general and this airline in particular. “XYZ airline stinks! I will never fly on them again!” All this is directed at me, as if I might take notes on his critique and deliver them to the CEO when I pass her in the hall. Of course, many of my deadheads end up being booked on other carriers, so this whole strategy of grievance is flawed from the start.

At least three times on every deadhead leg, I’m approached by a passenger who says some version of the following: “Well, if you’re back here, who’s flying the plane, ha ha!” We both have a quick chuckle, and usually someone nearby calls me the “spare” and asks if my name is Otto. As my brother says, “That old joke never gets funny.”

Every airline passenger is familiar with the ordeal of being forced to make conversation with the total stranger and fellow sardine in the adjacent seat. The usual suspects include the cat enthusiast with a million cute anecdotes (and pictures), the evangelical who is, well, too evangelical, and the political philosopher who just read an “important article” on (insert website here.)

Despite such encounters, meeting a stranger on a plane can be a pleasant experience. For every weepy twentysomething with a relationship on the rocks, there’s a quiet, thoughtful person with an interesting story to tell. I met a historian the other day who had written a book on the Peloponnesian War, a subject I never knew I was interested in. By virtue of his knowledge and passion, I spent two happy hours on the way to Albany chatting with him and several hours later reading up on Athens and Sparta. Another time I sat next to an older gentleman who, with some coaxing, revealed that he had flown B17 missions over Germany during World War II. I reckon that I’d still be begging him for details had we not landed in Chicago. He was probably glad to be rid of me.

Frequently, the tables are turned. Anthony Bourdain once said, “A little knowledge can be dangerous!and annoying.” This is especially true while deadheading. Perhaps the most challenging person to share a row with is the student pilot with a couple of lessons under his belt or the non-pilot aviation buff. I’m always grateful for their enthusiasm. They are, after all, the engine that keeps our hobby and profession going. Still, after a 4 a.m. show in Bismarck, I just want to close my eyes for a few minutes and get ready for my Peoria turn. The questions and observations are generally spaced out just enough to allow me to drift off but not quite achieve drooling R.E.M. 

My seatmate will suddenly tap me firmly on the shoulder: “Good morning, Captain!” Pause. “Do you fly this bird?”

Me, rubbing my eyes and wiping off the drool: “Uh, yeah, uh, I fly this one, alright. I’m sorry it’s so small, I know the gate agent was rude, I wish the overhead bins could accommodate your Jet Ski, but!”

My new friend: “No, no, sir, I love the regional jets. I just thought I should tell you that the left wing is leaking fuel really badly.”

Me, now wide awake: “Uh, what?”

Him: “Yeah, it’s either that or the flap actuator has ruptured. It’s losing hydraulic fluid at a rapid rate. It could be a brake line, though. The Flight Attendant said it was de-icing fluid but, you know, as a fellow pilot, I felt I should report it directly to you.”

Me, very concerned at this point, and running through my systems mentally as I try to peer out through the de-icing-fluid-obscured window. The terms leaking, ruptured and rapid rate are sure to focus the mind: “Uh, well, the flaps are electric, so, it’s probably not that. Where is, uh, where is the leak exactly?”

He points at the trailing edge of the wing, where great green globs of Type 4 de-icing fluid are dribbling from the flap guides. 

Me, breathing a sigh of relief and settling back into my seat: “I’m glad you brought that to my attention, sir, but I think it’s gonna be okay. I really think that might be de-icing fluid.”

Him, unsatisfied: “I don’t know. It looks like jet fuel to me. I think I better talk to the real captain.” He pushes his flight attendant call button.

One might imagine that being seated next to a fellow pilot would be a relief. Pilots love to talk about flying, after all—just ask an airline pilot’s spouse. Inevitably, though, these are the guys who end up embarrassing me.

“Good morning, Captain, sorry to wake you, but I had a couple of questions, and you were, you know, snoring pretty loudly.”

Me: “Well, sure, sorry about that. Fire away.”

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The enthusiast, in rapid fire succession: “What do you think of the aspect ratio on the wing on the new Cirrus Jet? Could you explain Bernoulli’s Principle to me? Do you know exactly what Mach speed Chuck Yeager reached in Glamorous Glennis? If a Canadair Regional jet leaves Montreal for Chicago at 12:15 Eastern Time and a Boeing 737-800 leaves Chicago for Montreal at 13:20 Central Time!”

Me, totally befuddled: “Huuuuh?”

At least fellow pilots don’t tend to ridicule the flight deck crew’s technique. On a deadhead from Denver to Tulsa, our pilot executed an absolutely textbook crosswind landing with a 25-knot component. It was smooth, it was on centerline, and it was in the touchdown zone. As we taxied onto the high speed, the businessman across the aisle leaned over to me and said, confidentially, “Well that landing was terrible. He landed on one wheel before all of the others.” I nodded and smiled. The customer is always right.

In the end, my favorite passengers, by far, are the kids. They’re not jaded like their parents. Their expectations aren’t inflated. They don’t remember the “golden age” of aviation when meals were served on fine china with metal cutlery. They are, bless them, just happy to be on an airplane, get a bag of pretzels and press their little noses against the window.

Their questions are reasonable, and my drowsy answers aren’t likely to be contradicted.

“Hey, Mr. Pilot. How fast are we going?”

There’s no need to strain my feeble brain cells with some convoluted discussion of Mach speed, indicated versus calibrated, headwinds and tailwinds.

The answer is: “Five hundred miles per hour!” It always impresses and always satisfies.

“How high up are we, sir?”

“Seven miles high, son.” No elaboration needed.

His admiration is immediate, sincere and enthusiastic.

“This plane is AMAZING!!And you get to fly it?”

I choke up just a little. My chest swells with the kind of pride regional jet pilots are unaccustomed to. I give him a smile and a pat on the head. For just a moment, I remember again why I always wanted to fly passengers instead of cargo. With quiet joy, I think to myself, “Wow! Five hundred mph—that is pretty amazing!”

The post What It’s Like For Deadheading Pilots appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

AOPA just wrapped up its You Can Fly High School Aviation STEM Symposium in Denver, Colorado, this week at the United Airlines Flight Training Center, and by all accounts the event was a big success. The gathering was host to more than 350 educators from across the country. During the two days of the event they attended a dozen breakout sessions, as well as special events, including a trip to the United Airlines sim center in Denver—we’ve been there. It’s really cool.

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The idea behind the initiative, which kicked off in 2015, is to preach the gospel of aviation education as an amazing STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math) pathway to critical STEM skills and knowledge, one that not only is really fun for young people to participate in but one that has great jobs at the other end of the education arc. But it’s way more than that too. AOPA provides educators at more than 160 school in 34 states a solid aviation curriculum for STEM studies. With a tremendous amount of work already done for them, teachers can jump start their aviation program or supercharge an existing one.

As part of the curriculum, AOPA has educators share raw data (no student identifying info at all) about the success of the program, including graduation rates and pilot licenses earned, so it can tailor the curriculum to suit the needs of teachers and learners even better.

AOPA President Mark Baker told the educators gathered at the STEM conference “You are changing young people’s lives. I guarantee it.”

Next year’s STEM gathering is in Orlando, Florida, November 9-10.  To learn more, visit AOPA.org.

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With the launch of its 2020 video courses for new pilots and for those seeking an instrument rating, Sporty’s has answered the question we’ve asked ourselves so many times before: What more could they possibly do to make these courses better? The answer, once again is, “Plenty.” The courses sell for $249 each, and while that might sound like a lot, there’s a lot of value here. You can access the courses regardless of what device you’re on—if you’re like us, you’ll use three or four different devices on any given day—and each one syncs your progress. If you were halfway through a video on your desktop, you’ll be halfway through on your iPhone, as well.

One thing we love about these courses is that you get the latest updates to the regs and new content to address new technologies, like glass cockpits, iPads, new mobile weather products and even ADS-B, none of which existed in our world even 15 years ago. With old media, updates were usually painful though infrequent. Today, Sporty’s can update content on the fly if, for instance, a new regulation comes into being. Try that with a VHS tape.

And they’ve made the courses work for pilots like never before, too, recognizing the importance of test prep today, when the FAA’s questions aren’t really known. The courses’ new test prep utility allows you to tailor your test-taking needs by making it easy to, again, work across platforms without losing your place, or your progress, and to create your own customized quizzes based on questions you have trouble with (for some of us, that’s all of them!) or even ones that you’ve marked as being confusing. It will even remember which ones you’ve missed for later review, even figuring out for you which weaker areas you might need to hit the digital books on.

We also love the checkride prep utility, which gives you practice for the oral, which is often the toughest part of an FAA exam.

And you can now watch the courses on Sporty’s Roku channel or via Chromecast for that big screen experience.

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Other new features include customizable flashcards, downloadable video review notes for digging deeper into turns around a point or understanding the difference between short- and soft-field takeoffs.

There’s even a checklist to be sure you bring everything with you that you need to take your checkride, which could save you both embarrassment and money.

One feature that’s worthy of note is that Sporty’s courses are lifetime purchases, so if you get the instrument course this year and in five-years you want to brush up, you still own the course, and not the one you purchased way back when but the latest and greatest without spending an additional penny.

For more on the new courses, visit sportys.com.

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Why would anyone want to become an airline pilot? It’s a great question. There are many ways to be involved in aviation, but the short answer for me is that it’s a great career. It is, in fact, a job I still enjoy doing 27 years later at Brand X Airlines. Even with the challenges my company and the industry as a whole have endured over the decades, I still look forward to putting my uniform on and going flying. The pay is very good, and the schedule is decent. But the biggest draw is that I still love what I do.

How It Happened For Me

I didn’t know I was going to become an airline pilot. As a fourth-grader in the 1970s living in Anchorage, Alaska, near a neighborhood grass strip (Flying Crown Airport), I got completely obsessed with airplanes, and my initial goal was to become a bush pilot and live in a cabin by myself in the woods of Alaska. Peace out, civilized folk! But after our family moved a few more times and I started looking at flying as a teenager, I decided the Air Force was the way to go.

My introverted Grizzly Adams script shifted to dreams of “Top Gun.” When I went through Air Force pilot training in 1985 to 1986, there was no path for me to the “danger zone,” so I ended up flying Learjets (the C-21A) and then the venerable C-141B (the beloved Starlifter). As a transport pilot, I discovered that this type of flying offered fun, challenge and travel. It provided me the insight into myself that I actually dig working with a crew and that I enjoy flying people and boxes around the world.

After my Air Force commitment was up, I immediately pursued airline flying and got on with a major legacy airline. From day one, I knew I was where I wanted to be. I enjoyed flying people around, having a set schedule and decent pay, and, best of all, when I came home from a trip, I left work behind and could forget about it until it was time to fly again.

What’s it like? Isn’t it pretty routine stuff?

Yes and no. For the sake of safety, I’m grateful that the airline industry made our job as routine as possible (with standardized operating procedures, cockpit resource management training and more) because there are plenty of other challenges flying day in and day out.

Within the airline itself, there are opportunities for pilots to do things beyond “flying the line.” Some pursue a management route within the airline at our training center, becoming chief pilots at our various domiciles or management pilots at our corporate headquarters. Others pursue special projects and instruction and evaluation positions. With so many new technological advances in the cockpit and within the air traffic control architecture, the airline relies upon the expertise of its pilots to help craft training programs to address those advances and standardize how to implement changes safely.

Outside the airline, many folks have pursued advanced degrees, started or maintained outside business and investment interests, or continued their military service in the National Guard or Reserves. I have done all of the above, from serving in the Air Force Reserves to becoming an instructor in our training center to having a small business as an engineering tech writer to becoming a line check airman. All doable paths as an airline pilot.

Lastly, other pilots simply fly their trips and happily do their own thing on their days off. Many friends use their time off to travel on their benefits, pursue their favorite charity, fly WW2 aircraft with the Commemorative Air Force. You name it!

Airline flying offers excellent bang for the buck on job satisfaction, schedule and pay as compared to other commercial flying jobs out there. No job is perfect, and my fair airline has seen its share of woe, but after almost 27 years here, I wouldn’t trade a day of it to be anywhere else!

Age

Per the rules, you can’t fly past the age of 65 as a Part 121 pilot. However, airlines around the country are hiring older folks (I have flown with new hires who were 58 and 59 years old). So put down that walker and get your ratings, post-haste! Not saying it’s easy, but becoming an airline pilot could be the best midlife crisis decision you ever made—just saying.

I Don’t Have Enough Money To Fly!

The biggest nut to crack in the industry is the financial barrier between folks wanting to fly and how they pay for it. The major airlines still look for applicants with a four-year college degree. Fair or not, that’s the way it is. There is, however, one “easy” way to attain both ratings and get a four-year degree for free. And that way, friends, is the military.

If you’re in high school looking to fly but you don’t have the money for school or flying lessons (the situation I was in), do everything you can to get into a military academy. Honestly, if you can make it through a military academy (doesn’t matter which one), you can look forward to many doors opening for you in life, in general. My specific advice on is that if you graduate from West Point but think you may want a fixed-wing jet airline career in the future, cross-commissioning into the Air Force or the Navy with the intention of becoming a pilot in one of those services is the best way to go.

I know that may be a controversial opinion, but it’s a tall order to transition yourself easily from a long career in props or helicopters to jets. If a military academy isn’t an option, pursue an ROTC scholarship. Again, seek a commission into the Air Force or Navy if you want to fly jets.

Lastly, if none of these options are available but you want to go the military route, enlist! Quite a few friends of mine enlisted in the armed services, used their GI benefits to get their four-year college degree while they were still in, attained their commissions as second lieutenants, and promptly went to pilot training.

The civilian route is tougher. But there are ways to do it beyond simply shelling out $80,000 to a flight school.

Quite a few airline pilots started as flight attendants and flew on the side. Others worked as engineers, accountants, teachers, etc., took up flying as a hobby, and then decided to keep working to pay for their ratings needed to apply to their first commercial flying job. Some of my colleagues in this category told me that to make ends meet and still fly, they got roommates or lived with family and friends. This is probably one of the toughest routes out there but doable. Other pilots told me that their path included patched-together co-signed student loans and funding the rest through the various and numerous aviation scholarships.

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Becoming a flight instructor to build hours while earning a salary seems to be another common path. If you can scrimp, save and blood-sweat-and-tears your way to a CFI, you can build hours quickly. Flying seven or eight hours a day instructing at a large flight school, for example, will fatten your logbook, fast. Flight schools often offer their employee CFIs reduced rates on their own personal flying and attainment of advanced ratings. There are actually quite a few folks who have decided to change careers midlife and get their hours this way to eventually move on to the airlines.

Airlines and flight schools are getting more inventive at offering scholarships and pathway programs to professional flying. At Metro State University in Denver, Colorado, for instance, Envoy offers a Pilot Pipeline Program. An MSU student can interview with Envoy in order to secure a position (ultimately) with American Airlines. The upshot is that, if accepted into this pipeline program, a student gets reimbursed for some expenses related to attaining one’s ratings, plus a $10,000 scholarship contingent on a two-year employment contract with Envoy Air, with a “flow-through” agreement to American Airlines after the two- year commitment is met. Other universities with strong aviation and aerospace sciences departments offer the same or similar opportunities.

Numerous scholarships are offered by individual aviation organizations, such as AOPA, EAA, Women in Aviation and ALPA. The best advice is to contact a flight school and discuss all of these options. Academic advisors at colleges are also great resources to obtain financial help or scholarships. Google is your friend! Join AOPA and EAA and any other aviation organization or club, and you’re bound to discover that they offer money for flying. Well worth your time, plus networking and finding a mentor in one of these organizations will help you in the long run when it comes time to interview.

There are many ways to get to the coveted front seat of an airliner. Some are easier than others, but among the friends and coworkers I’ve interviewed for this article, all of them told me the same thing: It was worth it. It wasn’t always perfect, but it was worth it. It is worth it.

The post The Many Paths To Becoming An Airline Pilot appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Scattering cremated remains by airplane has been a labor of love for me and my family for the past 17 years. It started as a way to help a funeral director friend, but it has evolved into so much more. I am lucky to have found this opportunity that has given meaning and purpose to my flying.

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I grew up near the Fullerton Airport in Southern California. Watching the small planes flying overhead sparked a desire to learn how to fly. At the age of 17, I convinced my dad to take flying lessons with me. We would study together and chair-fly together, and then eventually we each got our licenses (I beat him by 11 days, but who’s counting?).

I didn’t start flying thinking it would be anything but a hobby, and I mapped out a career in healthcare because I had the urge to help people. I went to college to become a registered dental hygienist. I entertained my captive audience—the patients in my dental chair—with flying stories. I told them about flying to Mexico with the Flying Samaritans, about adventures my dad and I had, and stories of air racing. It helped keep their minds off what I was doing. Then one day a patient who was a funeral director came in for his hygiene appointment, and everything changed.

My funeral director patient asked me if I had ever considered scattering cremated remains by airplane. Apparently, they get occasional requests for this type of memorial service but didn’t know how to make it happen. The funeral director was searching for a pilot who was a professional who would follow the laws and perform this service with the dignity and respect it deserved. He helped me research the federal and state laws that regulate scattering of cremated remains. Once we determined that it could be done legally, I then started doing research into establishing a system and creating a device that would allow me to scatter the cremated remains safely and elegantly—I wanted to avoid having anything blow back into the plane or remove the paint from the fuselage. There are so many pilots with stories about how they tried to scatter ashes from a plane and found that it didn’t go as planned. My dad and I were able to engineer a device that allows me to scatter cremated remains cleanly and safely. Once all of these components were in place, I obtained a Cremated Remains Disposer permit from the state of California.

I was hooked after completing a couple of scatterings for this funeral director. I started my scattering company, called A Journey With Wings. We started out very simply, with a few unwitnessed scatterings at sea off the local coastline. Eventually, families started making more unique requests and asked to be more involved in the service. I realized that I was not just a pilot to these families. Instead, I was providing a memorial service as a professional in the funeral industry. Families and funeral directors sought me out as a professional who would provide a service that was reverent, dignified and legal.

Over the years, we have had the honor of flying scattering flights in many unique locations and in many ways that are as unique as the life of the person being memorialized. A Journey With Wings has taken us to many beautiful locations—over the Grand Canyon, over and around Santa Catalina Island, and to the peak of Mount Whitney and beyond. I am often in awe of the scenery we fly over. And sometimes the memorial flights are intricately detailed, where we perform the scattering with correct timing at a precise location to coincide with a service on the ground. We have customized flights to honor the person being memorialized—one time we mixed holi powder in a rainbow of colors into the cremated remains to reflect the unique brightness of the artist. Each scattering flight is unique because each family we serve is unique.

The one scattering flight that stands out the most in my mind is the flight Roger arranged for his wife, Geri, who was a world traveler with a joyous spirit. We helped scout locations to find what resembled a region of African grasslands, and the family chose the Malibu Creek State Park. The service was set so those in attendance could sit under a gorgeous tree staring out over the amber grasslands with the Malibu hills in the background. Those in attendance participated in an African drumming ceremony and sang to the music of the Beatles. Roger and his family worked with an event coordinator to make sure we released the cremated remains at just the right time and in just the right place. We circled in the distance, awaiting the radio call from the coordinator. When the time was right, Geri’s family and friends stepped out from under the tree and onto the grasslands to “In My Life” by the Beatles. It looked like a beautiful migration from our vantage point in the air. We circled once overhead and made a sweeping turn so they could follow us with their eyes to the hill in the background. The cremated remains were released right after the drum ceremony ended, and we could hear the joyful cheers from the people on the ground through the radio. It sent chills down my spine. I felt so lucky to be a part of it.

One of the reasons this flight stands out in my mind is that I was able to see the entire service from the perspective of those on the ground. Roger had a production crew who captured video of the memorial on the ground and in the air. To make sure we could fulfill the family’s wishes, we made an initial test flight with one videographer, Tony, in the plane and another videographer on the ground so they could get their shot angles and coordinate the memorial. We timed how long it would take to get from the departure airport to the scattering location and how long our orbit would take to get from our holding spot to make that giant, dramatic sweeping turn to grab the attention of the family and friends before we scattered over the rolling hills. We measured the time it would take to fly along the ridgeline so that the release would take place along the length of the ridgeline. When I asked Roger for his permission to include details of Geri’s service for this article, he sent me a message saying, “Tony and I still wonder to this day how we managed to pull it all off. It was you who were the centerpiece of that memorial, not a small part.”

Each scattering flight must follow rules and regulations. We are required to file the proper paperwork with the local health department, the Environmental Protection Agency, and the Cemetery and Funeral Bureau of the California Department of Consumer Affairs. We are a Part 91 operation and work closely with the FAA and our local Flight Standards District Office (FSDO). We obtain all required permits from the land locations over which we scatter cremated remains—this requires coordination with superintendents of national parks, state parks and private property owners. A big portion of my job is figuring out how to get the permits I need to accomplish the wishes of my clients. That part isn’t as glamorous or fun as the flying part, but we have become very good at it.

Sometimes families aren’t completely sure what it is they want, or they cannot agree on what to do for their loved one who passed. Again, we must follow the letter of the law regarding power of attorney and next-of-kin regulation. Scattering cremated remains is an event with finality—we cannot get the remains back. On occasion, we will decline to scatter if the family is not in full agreement. Sometimes it feels like I am a grief counselor or a family counselor more than a pilot, but that is a critical aspect of how A Journey With Wings cares for our clients.

A Journey With Wings is a family affair. It is a family business. My husband is a part-time office manager, and my sons often help me with paperwork and by preparing the cremated remains for the scattering flights. My dad has been my favorite co-pilot ever since we started flying together when I was 17 years old, and that never gets old.

We are always seeking out new location and memorial options for families. We like to take on new challenges. In this business, the sky really is the limit.

The post Scattering Ashes Is More Than Flying For A Pilot appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

When I wrote my first article for Plane & Pilot, a meditation on flying for the airlines and reaching the milestone of 15,000 hours, I was excited at the prospect of having other pilots read my work. The feedback I received was largely encouraging. It seemed I had weeded out most of my dangling participles. What I was unprepared for was a few critical comments by GA pilots regarding not my grammar or style, but the nature of my job. One reader wrote:

“15,000 hours, or the same hour 15,000 times?”

Although I feel I could plea bargain this down to “the same three hours 5,000 times,” I was willing to grant the spirit of his argument. Flying for the airlines can be repetitive. Another likened airline flying to:

“Empty hours, sitting and waiting to land again.”

I was a bit more offended by this one but could allow his premise. There is a bit of waiting involved in my chosen profession, much of it at Gate B19 at O’Hare. The comment that caught my eye, and stung just a bit, was the following:

“15,000 hours [at the airlines] generally equals 14,000 hours using autopilot. Who’s really flying? Quality over quantity.”

My beef with this sentiment goes back to an argument I have heard my entire career regarding the dreaded (or beloved) autopilot. Much like the iPhone vs. Android debate, there are strong voices on both sides, and your intractable opinion is often in perfect alignment with the type of equipment you happen to own.

I will come right out and say it: I love my autopilot. I think it is an asset for both convenience and safety. I think it gives passengers a better flight, reduces pilot fatigue, and enhances situational awareness. As with any form of automation, it is necessary to “fly” the autopilot just like you fly the plane. Skill is required to get the desired results, and study and practice are rewarded. Much like a throttle or an aileron, an autopilot is simply a tool. It may be used properly or improperly.

October 19, 2004, was a long day for my crew. We began at 11:15 a.m. at the Bradley International Airport in Windsor Locks, Connecticut. Our first leg took us to St. Louis, pretty near the effective range of our aircraft with a full passenger load. We grabbed a late lunch, and a little after 4 p.m., we departed for Denver. In Denver, we did a 30-minute turn and landed back in St. Louis at 9:04 p.m.

The average hourly worker in this country would probably call 11 hours of duty a long day, and it is. For a regional airline pilot in 2004, though, such a day was pretty standard fare. In my logbook I show a 13-hour duty day a few days later and, a couple of months earlier, a grueling seven-leg, 14-hour duty day. These things happened, and to some degree still do, although the FAA’s update to Part 117 flight and duty limitations helped.

A couple of hours before I landed in STL, another flight crew was coming to the end of a more arduous day just a few miles north in Kirksville, Missouri. The two pilots, operating Corporate Airlines flight 5966, had departed STL just a few gates down from where I parked my jet. Their long day bore some similarity to mine but also some critical differences. A subsequent NTSB report highlights this:

The pilots’ duty period began about 0514 at BRL after about 9 hours off duty. They departed!about 0544 and flew to STL, where they arrived about 0644. The pilots were originally scheduled to!fly to UIN and then return to STL; however, those two flights were cancelled because of poor weather conditions. They then resumed their normal flight schedule, departing STL again about 1236. They flew to IRK and returned to STL, where they arrived about 1453. The pilots departed STL again about 1513, flew to BRL, and returned to STL, where they arrived about 1745. The accident flight departed STL about 1842. The pilots were flying their sixth flight of the day and had flown about 6 hours and 14 minutes in 14 hours and 31 minutes of duty time when the accident occurred.

It is possible that flying six legs (supposed to be eight) in 14 hours and 31 minutes represents a certain amount of repetition (the same hour 15,000 times), and it is likely that my longer flights that day included “empty hours, sitting and waiting to land.” Almost any pilot would grant, however, that these Corporate Airlines pilots had a really challenging day.

I reflected on that when I heard about the accident. My proximity, both in space, time and circumstance, compelled me to compare my day with theirs. Was this a “but for the grace of God,” situation, or did my crew have fundamental advantages lacked by the pilots of Flight 5966? I read the NTSB report.

The NTSB determines that the probable cause of the accident was the pilots’ failure to follow established procedures!including their descent below the minimum descent altitude!(which continued unmoderated until the airplane struck the trees) and their failure to adhere to the established division of duties between the flying and nonflying pilot!The pilots’ unprofessional behavior during the flight and their fatigue likely contributed to their degraded performance.

I remember reading this and being offended on behalf of the Corporate pilots. I remember thinking, in silent reply to the sterile language of the report, “Yeah, easy for you to say.” I had flown that day and the weather was, for lack of a better word, crap. I had a long day, but nothing like the grueling hours these fellows had put in. The report was critical of the captain for remarking on the CVR that “you gotta have fun” and transmitting a burp over the radio. It noted that the first officer “engaged in banter with the captain, and used informal, nonstandard terminology.” A friend of mine remarked, “If you’re not cracking a joke every once in awhile after 14 hours on duty, you’re probably asleep.”

It is hard to disagree with the report’s conclusions. The Corporate crew did make mistakes, didn’t strictly follow procedures, and could probably be faulted for violating sterile cockpit rules. Accident chains are made up of many links. Still, I found it hard to buy the idea that the FO’s “barking sound followed by a groan” on the CVR amounted to a critical error. I wondered if something more tangible might have made a difference.

No one can say for certain what could have broken this accident chain. Reflecting on the report, though, I could not help coming back, over and over, to a couple of statements that did not make it into the NTSB’s conclusions. They were the only “first-hand” observations from actual Corporate pilots:

According to several pilot friends, the only complaint the captain had about Corporate Airlines was the lack of an autopilot on the BAE-J3201, which resulted in pilots having to fly the airplanes manually through any weather and workload.

And:

One Corporate Airlines captain/check airman stated!that the lack of an autopilot could increase crew fatigue especially when operating in adverse weather.

I was disappointed by the NTSB report because I believed, fervently, that having an autopilot during this 14-plus-hour day might have broken a link in this accident chain. It certainly seemed a more likely “chain-breaker” than preventing “pilot banter.” We will, of course, never know.

I had an autopilot on my jet that day, a silent assistant, to hold the course and keep the plane level while I consulted my charts or programmed the FMS or ate a sandwich. On my 11-hour day, I got at least some relief, a few moments to relax and decompress. The Corporate pilots did not have that luxury. They had to consult their charts, set their radios, talk to ATC, get the ATIS, and, yes, perhaps eat a sandwich, while endlessly scanning the instruments and actively, every minute, manipulating the controls, adjusting the throttles, trimming. That level of concentrated effort and attention is hard to maintain. It is hard to maintain for an hour or two hours. Anyone who thinks it wouldn’t have a cumulative effect over the course of 14 is being naive.

Would having an autopilot have saved the pilots of Corporate Flight 5966? I can’t say that. But would it have made a difference to their workload, to their level of fatigue on that last leg? There can be little doubt.

Virtually all airline pilots call the autopilot George. That anthropomorphism occasionally extends to conversations with our inanimate buddy. “What in the world are you doing, George?” or “no, George, your other left.” It is common to hear the nonstandard phrase “George has it” when the autopilot is engaged.

There is much disagreement about the origin of the name. Some have suggested that it refers to George DeBeeson, an early aviation pioneer and autopilot developer. Others contend that GEORGE is an acronym for Gyro Operated Guidance Equipment. And some maintain that the name began with early RAF pilots honoring King George VI.

The name has become ubiquitous, and though some airline pilots claim that overuse makes a pilot “soft,” most captains will groan a little when they are assigned an aircraft with a deferred autopilot. We have a fondness for George. We are grateful for his presence, especially when days are long, weather is crap, and workload is high. So, “15,000 hours equals 14,000 hours using autopilot. Who’s really flying?” I guess my answer is: George and I are flying together, and I’m glad to have him aboard.

The post Coming To Terms With The Autopilot appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Just ahead, the windshield separated a cold, murky night from my relatively comfortable perch in the flight deck of the Airbus. As the runway lights in Boston flashed past faster and faster, I scanned the instruments while the captain, who was flying the plane this leg, had his eyes outside. “Eighty knots. Power set,” I called. As we passed 100 knots, my half of the panel went dark. My flight instruments and much of my ability to monitor the aircraft’s systems all evaporated in a flash of the screens. It took a moment to process what happened, and then I had to vocalize the situation. Because the pilot’s eyes were outside, my interpretation was his connection to the instrument panel

“Lost my screens. Engines still making power. Still accelerating.”

“Continue,” he called through clenched teeth. We were in the high-speed regime of the takeoff, where we’d only abort for something that’d significantly impact our ability to fly. Engine fire or failure? Abort. Couple of screens going out? We’re going flying. My eyes shifted to his side of the panel, where I still had plenty of information available to make my callouts.

“Vee-one. Rotate. Positive rate.”

We pulled the gear up and climbed into the night. Boston tower handed us off to departure. I ran the after-takeoff checklist, and we finally got to take a look at our predicament. The Airbus has two AC-powered buses. Bus 2 failed, having apparently shorted out. There were no chimes or bells—the takeoff inhibit function hides most failures with an aim to keep us from aborting for minor issues. An abort at high speed brings all sorts of threats. Passengers who may have forgotten to buckle their seatbelts could suffer significant injuries. Flying objects in the cabin, overheating brakes or, worse yet, a runway excursion all are valid threats. Add in the fear of customers who have just experienced a mind-numbing stop when they expected to be lifting off, and you’ve got all the potential in the world for folks to start popping the emergency exits and triggering their own evacuation in spite of having an intact aircraft with two engines running.

Between the powerful vacuum of the engine intakes and the blowtorch of the exhaust, there’s potential for all sorts of disaster in spite of whatever announcement one might make hoping to keep everyone in their seats. Even in a properly managed evacuation, statistically, someone’s going to get hurt. The inflatable slides are not playground equipment, and any time they’re put to use, there are almost always sprains and maybe even fractures or worse as heels snag on the slide, or someone tries to make the leap with a suitcase or personal belongings that should have stayed onboard.

So we were flying with a half-dark panel. The captain muttered something about how this airplane made classic British touring cars seem reliable. He was not wrong. After all, in the span of just a few hours, we experienced multiple engine failures at V1 and V2 in challenging terrain, a couple of escape maneuvers with traffic and terrain conflicts. As soon as we picked up the checklist to start working the abnormal procedures, a voice behind us disrupted the scenario. “Okay, we’ll stop it there for now,” the instructor said. “I’ve got the sim. Here’s what it’d look like if you lost both Bus 1 and Bus 2.”

Beyond the windshield, beyond the cold New England rain and clouds, there was the air-conditioned enclosure of the simulator bay at our training center. Outside, the sun was shining, and it was a beautiful winter afternoon in Florida. This wasn’t a trip from hell. It was the annual training airline pilots perform under Advanced Qualification Program, or AQP.

While some operators still use the old system of proficiency checks where the yearly check ride is as predictable as the tolling of the clocktower at noon, AQP has ushered in a degree of flexibility that pro checks couldn’t offer. I did a year or two of the old system of proficiency checks, and I can still remember much of the carefully scripted scenario: Low-visibility takeoff, climb up to do steep turns, vectors back for an approach that went missed at minimums, and an engine failure on the go-around. Single-engine approach to a miss, then another approach to a landing.

Then we did v1 cuts and a no-flap landing. It’s been more than a decade at this point, so I may have missed a thing or two, but I bet my memory of the check ride profile is more correct than not.

Much like in Bill Murray’s “Groundhog Day,” it was the same year-in and year-out. Yes, we were proficient at the maneuvers we rehearsed for the ride, but there were plenty of other failures we could have trained for and other skills that needed polishing up.

Safety reports from our company and from across the industry are the feedback that drive each year’s training objectives. Got pilots busting altitudes rejoining an RNAV STAR after being vectored off the arrival? Put that scenario into the next year’s training. How about obvious issues with basic airmanship with failed automation? Incorporate a quick VFR pattern with no autopilot, flight director or autothrust.

AQP yearly training involves elements to include Maneuvers Validation and Line-Oriented Evaluation. The MV is a series of maneuvers that are often disrupted by repositions and pauses to allow instruction and, if needed, remediation. Most of these are briefed extensively in the classroom prior to the simulator, so we’re often prepared and on the same page before the instructor’s “!and you’re flying in 3, 2, 1.” Also, there are first-look maneuvers that aren’t briefed, so evaluators can see us tackling problems outside the syllabus.

In the briefing period prior to the LOE, there’s the oral. I’ve seen various labels thrown at it, but the constant regardless of the operation is this: You’ll get grilled on memory items from aircraft limitations and emergency actions, aircraft systems and company operations or procedures. It’s usually administered as a tag-team operation where the captain and first officer take turns answering questions. This is the one part of AQP where you hope your sim partner doesn’t call in sick, or else you get the entire test all to yourself. The check airman will stick to the script for the most part, but if you seem a little soft on an answer, prepare for him or her to dig a little deeper.

This year, my check airman had flown A320s for decades at more than one carrier, and he brought a wealth of knowledge to the table. “Great. The question is officially answered. Now let’s talk about that for just a moment,” he’d say, and we’d launch off on a tangent that often illustrated a point much more clearly than our manuals or training software managed to achieve.

The LOE is a point-to-point flight, conducted as a normal flight, with some abnormality thrown in. The LOE, while a jeopardy event, is scored with the flight broken into a number of segments. Pilots are allowed to repeat one segment twice or two segments once, if there’s an issue too significant to be covered as a debriefing item. The LOE is generally flown as a pair of flights so that the captain and the first officer can be evaluated in their roles as pilot flying and pilot monitoring.

I’ve seen LOE scenarios include holding on a clear day when someone fouled the runway, where they’re looking to see your fuel management and decision-making as you consider whether to hold or divert. A simple abnormality popping up on an arrival shows how you handle the division of duties in a high-workload phase of flight. Over the year, I’ve seen a flaps failure in the full landing configuration, followed by an ILS that went belly-up as we passed the marker. The company wanted to see whether we chose to break an aircraft limitation of 10 knots maximum tailwind on landing by flying an approach to the other runway, or whether we’d fly our stricken aircraft to the next-nearest airport.

Other LOE scenarios encountered over the years included winter operations to snow and ice-contaminated runways in south Alabama and an oil pressure indication failure in the midst of a busy arrival into New York. Any time an LOE started at a busy airport with multiple runways, you could pretty well plan on a runway change at first contact with ground control. The potential scenarios are endless, but they’re selected for good reasons. They’re all generated from real-world data and help to keep our pilot group proficient. And much like the real world, as long as you don’t bend metal or blatantly disregard company policy or the FARs, the difference in a right or wrong decision is usually found within the pilot’s rationale for making the decision.

As we joke within the industry, the difference between an airline pilot and a jet engine is that the engine stops whining once parked at the gate. In spite of our ability to elevate first-world complaints to an art form, one hardly hears a pilot speak ill of the AQP training system.

On any given month, I usually have a flight more challenging than the LOE. But don’t mistake our approval of the process—and its very high pass rate—as evidence that it’s a less-effective recurrent training method. If anything, I’d argue that the differing scenarios have served to introduce knowledge and proficiency in areas that would go completely untouched under the old method.

The post Home Schooling appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

For years, we’ve been putting together surveys of the top aviation jobs, and over time the list hasn’t changed a lot. These careers made it to the top of the list because of their great salaries, worker-friendly schedules, stimulating challenges, potential growth opportunities, and an interesting variety of positions and geographical locations. And to top it off, all of them are likely to be part of growth segments in coming years. In making our calculations, we’ve also considered the time and financial resources the job seeker needs to get into such a position. And while we tried to get as definitive as possible, please be aware that the salary ranges are approximate, and the upper ranges represent the approximate current typical top salary for such fields. Leaders in their fields and those with management and program management responsibility can earn substantially more.

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1. Pilot (airline, corporate, charter, fractional ownership, air taxi, flight instructor, military, test pilot)

Airline pilots begin their careers with the regionals and may move on to the majors; commercial pilots usually have a lower experience threshold before hiring—and commercial opportunities are growing; flight instructors often build time to qualify for another pilot career. Military pilots may see fewer opportunities in the future if unmanned aerial vehicles become prevalent in military operations, but there are almost certainly going to be jobs for those pilots waiting on the civilian side.

Salary Range: $45,000–$250,000

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