In my days as a purveyor of air taxi services, our sales brochure stated the company’s philosophy as “Safety, Comfort, Speed,” ranking a smooth, uneventful flight right behind the primary objective of a safe arrival. We tried our best to avoid turbulent air—dozing passengers meant we were meeting our goal. The rare occasions of inescapable bouncing risked an onset of mal de l’air and redecoration of the cabin interior.

Staying in the smooth starts with timing the trip to evade rough air. Related to such scheduling is a knowledge of turbulence’s origins, so you can better understand the best time to fly. Air in motion can be generated thermally, orographically, and by frontal activity.

• READ MORE: Get A Handle On Turbulence

Thermal turbulence will make its daily arrival as the sun angle increases, heating up the Earth’s surface in an uneven manner to generate rising air currents in some places, while subsiding in others. We can expect rough air by midday and can perhaps avoid it by climbing higher initially, but it will reach inconvenient levels as the day wears on.

Orographic turbulence is influenced by terrain, particularly if the wind flows across a perpendicular ridgeline. The greater the wind speed, the more energetic the turbulence will be. Thermals can also form on the sun-facing slopes. Smart mountain pilots know to conclude their flying by late morning before the winds pick up and undulations form in the stream of moving air. The analogy of mountain turbulence is akin to water flowing down a rocky stream, creating white-water rapids.

Convective weather in an air mass, particularly in frontal zones, doesn’t need to be in the form of full-blown thunderstorms to generate turbulence. Building cumulus is an indicator of energy waiting to roughen up one’s flight, most likely below the cloud base but also inside clouds if you’re in “popeye” IFR conditions, flying in and out of Cu. If there are tall, cotton-ball-shaped clouds, you can expect up and down currents of air to complicate your life.

Unfortunately, passengers frequently want to head for home in the heat of the afternoon, having concluded the morning’s business (or visiting) and eaten lunch on the company dime (or grandma’s table). Unless you can defer departure until the cooling of evening begins, expect upsetting conditions. Pilots, occupied with flight duties, can withstand the continuous pounding, but back-seaters with nothing to do but endure will find it a trial.

Soften the Blows

I’ve found that manual flying, keeping hands and feet clamped to the controls, can deflect some of the minor jolts, sort of like a human yaw damper. Rather than leave the rudder pedals to flail unrestrained, hold them in neutral to prevent “dutch roll” from yaw/roll coupling. Similarly, keep the ailerons and elevator from moving or with a light response to tame minor jolts, which will usually smooth out the ride.

Changing altitudes, usually for a higher one, is a normal response to alleviate a rough ride. If the problem is obvious, evidenced by a cumulus cloud array with flat bottoms and cauliflower tops, you can bet on a smooth ride above the level of the bases. That, of course, presumes you can stay clear of the energetic puffballs, which are rising and writhing on top of the updraft feeding their appetite. Building cumulus has the ability to outclimb a light aircraft, invariably topping out at an altitude exactly wrong for the direction of flight, as determined by FAR 91.159’s hemispheric rule.

Heading down, on the other hand, to stay 500 feet or more below the cloud bases simplifies navigation and improves flight visibility but at the price of unrelenting turbulence. Pulling some power off to slow down may improve the ride or at least alter the intensity of the jolts. It’s a necessity if you’ve allowed the needle to creep up into the yellow arc on the airspeed indicator, which denotes “smooth air only” in accordance with certification standards.

If It’s Really Rough

Slowing to the pilot operating handbook’s maneuvering speed (V_A) is a popular recommendation for handling turbulence, as it assures the airplane’s structure will not fail if a severe gust is encountered because a stall occurs before reaching the certification G-force limit. As the name implies, maneuvering speed is designed to protect the aircraft from the pilot’s overzealous use of the flight controls, not rough air, although it certainly provides a margin of safety in severe conditions. At light weights, however, handling may be compromised by the narrow margin of speed between V_A and V_S.

• READ MORE: The Season Of Turbulence

In extreme turbulence, extending retractable landing gear adds stability and limits speed buildup if control is lost. Just don’t forget that power has to be added to maintain altitude with all the extra drag the gear generates. If in such very rough air, inform ATC that you’re going to need a “block” of altitudes, such as 1,000 feet above and below your assigned level, because you’re unable to maintain level flight without overstressing the airplane. Don’t try to hold an altitude if you are struggling to keep the aircraft right side up. Just aim to fly a level attitude and ride out the turbulence.

Assure the passengers that, bumps and jolts to the contrary, the aircraft can handle much more turbulence than its occupants. Hearing the pilot use phrases like “no problem,” “this is normal,” and “should be getting better soon” helps calm their fears that the wings are about to fall off. Staying silent and staring intently only confirms thoughts that the flight must be in trouble.

When it comes to storm turbulence, avoidance is the key. Stay away from mature thunderstorms by at least 20 miles, bearing in mind that movement of the storm must be taken into account. Heading for open skies behind the storm, as in upwind of its path, is the best policy, minimizing the amount of deviation needed. When considering going through a line of storms, stay aware of continuing development. You don’t want to be caught in a trap of expanding storms on all sides.

The best policy during thunderstorm season is flexibility. Wait out the storms on the ground before departing, and don’t be afraid to deviate to an alternate along your route. Few passengers will complain about the inconvenience of an interrupted trip after having looked out the window at an angry, dark sky and feeling a few blasts of its fury. Even nonflyers can understand that airplanes don’t belong in that environment.

Respect the Wind in the Hills

Mountain turbulence is tied to the winds at ridge level. Calm air down in the valley doesn’t necessarily equate to a smooth ride through the pass. Anything more than 15 knots aloft is definitely a no-go. Take advantage of light winds early in the morning to cross the hills and reach nonmountainous terrain before the midday increase in low-level wind. If paralleling a mountain chain, stay on the side of the valley that is farthest downstream from the wind flow over the ridge. Downdrafts in excess of climb ability may exist on the upwind side, next to the higher terrain, where the wind spills over the high ground and a path of rising air can be found on the opposite side of the valley.

Crossing a ridge while fighting turbulent air requires an extra cushion of altitude, which may avoid the worst of the roughness and give room to escape if you encounter sinking air. Setting up a 45-degree angle for the ridge crossing, instead of meeting it head-on, gives you a 90-degree turn to an escape path instead of a 180-degree turn that might take too long to complete.

Never be ashamed to call it quits or even invent a need to make a pit stop, if the air is just too rough for your passengers—or you. Flying in smooth air, I’ve found, increases cruise speed by at least 5 knots, compared to wallowing along in turbulence. Taking a break freshens up one’s endurance level.

Riding it out is sometimes the only option, but knowing where turbulence comes from and how to minimize its effects can go a long way to enjoying the trip.

Editor’s Note: This story originally appeared in the October 2023 issue of Plane & Pilot magazine. 

The post Flying in the Rough appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

The first peaked around 1976, coincidentally a year when so many of the airplanes we mere mortals can afford to own and fly today were constructed. Thousands of single-engine piston airplanes were produced each year. FBOs were numerous, diverse, and competed on price and service. All this made long-distance travel by light singles relatively affordable and fun. However, the specter of product liability nearly killed the fatted aviation calf.

It wasn’t until the General Aviation Revitalization Act (GARA) of 1994 that things began to turn around. The second golden age peaked around 2008. For a while there, several venerable brands were revived, piston aircraft production nearly doubled, and it looked like GA travel was back in style. Then came the recession of 2009, and it has been a rocky road ever since.

Restoring the Glory

Then again, maybe we can bring back some of that faded glory and start our own golden age. The legacy fleet of owner- and renter-flown aircraft is still in good shape, sales of retrofit avionics upgrades are strong and, thankfully, the airspace we fly in remains some of the least regulated in the world. OK, so avgas is not cheap. That is until you take a look across the Atlantic or Pacific and realize just how good we have it. And let’s face it, highway travel remains frustrating at best. Remember the old adage: “A mile of road will take you a mile. A mile of runway will take you anywhere.”

So maybe it’s time to pull the bird out of the hangar and go exploring. The COVID-19 pandemic kept us all cooped up for several challenging years, so it’s time to enjoy the freedom we have and fly at will across this beautiful country. The first step may be to go back a few years and remember why we all started flying.

Where Did the Joy of Flying Begin for You?

It all started for me on August 21, 1973—that day, the direction of my life changed forever. On a misty morning, my flight instructor, Fred Broce, the legendary chief pilot at Virginia Tech Airport (now KBCB), climbed out of the right seat of the little 1959 Cessna 150, turned, and said, “Give me three takeoffs and landings, and I will see you back at the ramp.” I was alone in the airplane for the first time.

The first traffic pattern was all business: checklist, airspeed, altitude, aimpoint—now flare just right. The second pattern was still hard work, although I began to notice the little Cessna seemed much quieter and flew a bit better solo. But the “aha” moment occurred on the final pattern. On the downwind leg, I finally took a moment to absorb the spectacular scenery, maybe for the first time in nine hours of stalls, traffic patterns, and turns around a point. The stunning Blue Ridge Mountains, their brilliant hues of green shrouded in wisps of the mist, were a feast for the eyes. I decided right then and there I was home.

A few months later, another fateful day arrived. With just more than 40 hours in the logbook and a freshly minted private pilot certificate in hand, I invited the woman who would become my wife to come fly with me. She said yes to the flight, and the marriage proposal, and for nearly 50 years we have shared the joy of airplane travel and ownership. Our boys, now grown with families of their own, thought of our airplanes as flying station wagons. Taxiing into the FBO with the eyes of our waiting parents and grandparents, eager to see us and hug the kids, felt for a moment like Charles Lindbergh arriving at Paris’ Le Bourget.

Our little family has flown our simple fixed-gear airplanes coast to coast, and we have seen just about every corner of this beautiful country and a bit of Canada. We have felt pity for the folks stuck in traffic below as we zipped across the LA basin to downtown San Diego. Ripon, Fiske, and Rock Your Wings are burned in our memories as we made our way to EAA AirVenture.

A career as a military pilot, nearly 800 hours of it flying low-level missions admiring the ever-changing scenery from an altitude of 800 feet and nearly 400 knots, and a handful of additional ratings and certificates confirmed that we pilots have the best view in the world. Through it all, a line from a nearly forgotten poem rings out: “And I look down with hungry eyes at the land below.”

My wife Debbie and I are sightseers and travelers. And our trusty Cessna 177B Cardinal is the magic carpet that makes it all possible. It is neither the newest, fastest, or the fanciest, but it is ours. A factory-rebuilt engine, overhauled prop, and an IFR GPS keep it up to date. The paint still shines after 25 years, a testament to what a hangar and a little wax will do. It still has a vacuum pump and an elderly autopilot, but when we are aloft, heading someplace new, we are ready to be amazed by what we see. The trip from Florida to North Carolina to see our grandkids is a feast for the eyes. And this time, as we taxi in, the tables have turned, and our kids and grandkids are waiting to greet us.

What Is Stopping You?

So, what is the point of this rambling? These marvelous little airplanes we either rent or own are meant to go places.

Those of us lucky enough to be able to fly can recharge our batteries by slipping the surly bonds of Earth, even if just for a local pattern flight or trip around the local area. The view from a few thousand feet up puts so many things into perspective. However, these little aluminum birds we are entrusted with are meant for more than that. And we happen to live in a country where flying is still one of the freest experiences in the world. So maybe it’s time to get back in the air and on the way to new destinations and adventures.

What To See

Did you know the Beechcraft, Swift, and Piper museums are each found right on airports within easy reach of most major East Coast cities? Down here in Florida, the airport restaurant is flourishing, with new ones opening all the time. Out west, even at 120 knots, our basic VFR machines really shine. Severe clear weather, long distances, stunning vistas, and numerous airports in busy cities that allow us to wing our way over the traffic jams are the norm. Head north to the Great Lakes or New England, the scenery is stunning, and the options are endless. So what is the secret to traveling distances in our well-seasoned little birds?

Take Your Time and Plan Your Stops

The old saying, “If you have time to spare, go by air,” comes to mind. If you are planning a weeklong trip, plan for a week and a half to allow for the occasional breakdown and marginal weather. Arrange your stops based on the availability of services, lodging, and transportation. Unplanned maintenance issues should be part of the agenda. In the long run, it might be less expensive to tie down next to a full-service maintenance shop than at an isolated strip where gas is $1 cheaper.

Pace Yourself

Break up your trip into easy bites. Keeping the days to a comfortable two-hop, rather than pushing a long three-leg flight into darkness, makes so much sense. And consider making your first leg the longest and each leg thereafter shorter. This helps us manage fatigue and account for unplanned delays.

Time To Embark on a New Era

As Plane & Pilot embarks on a new era, it’s high time we do as well. Hundred-dollar (OK, maybe $200 today) hamburger flights, long weekend trips, or cross-country adventures all reveal the value of our pilot certificates and these amazing little time machines we fly. Consider traveling with friends on flights of two or three.

Try new airports and destinations. And while you are at it, take a few moments between programming the GPS and adjusting the mixture to marvel at the view below. It is guaranteed to put a smile on your face, and the world around you may just look a little brighter. Fly safe.

Editor’s note: This story originally appeared in the September 2023 issue of Plane & Pilot magazine. 

The post Pro Tips for Private Pilots: Time for a New Golden Age appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.