EPIC E1000

The cutting-edge pressurized turboprop single is fast and beautiful. And so much more.

One of our two planes of the year is the Epic Aircraft E1000, a 1,200 hp carbon-fiber pressurized turboprop single. The plane is a product of Epic Aircraft, located in Bend, Oregon. It has been under development for more than five years. The model is, for all intents and purposes, a new plane, though its genesis is in the company’s Epic LT kit plane.

The E1000, however, has been extensively refined and features improvements across the board, including a world-class cabin with numerous improvements and creature comforts. The E1000 earned its FAA type certification in late 2019, and Epic received a production certificate for the plane earlier this year. Epic has already made the first couple of deliveries of the E1000, which, at $3.25 million, is about a million dollars less expensive than its main competitor, the popular Daher TBM 940.

And at that price, the E1000 offers a lot, including seating for six, including the pilot, with club seating in back. It’s also wicked fast. At an advertised top speed of 333 knots, the E1000 is a few ticks faster than the 330-knot TBM, and its ramp appeal is arguably best in class. That class, by the way, is a very small one. Its only natural competitor is the all-metal TBM 940. 

The secret to the E1000’s performance is no secret at all. The Pratt & Whitney PT6A-67A gives the E1000 a power range that allows it to produce great power across the flight envelope. It is, of course, certified for flight in known icing, with pneumatic boots.

The E1000 also has great range, with a maximum no-wind range of 1,560 nm with reserves. It’s not only the fastest; it’s also the highest flying, too. With a ceiling of 34,000, it has the highest ceiling for a turboprop single, which allows it the ability to utilize RVSM altitudes, those altitudes above 29,000 feet that allow for 1,000-foot separation. Both plane and pilot must be qualified to fly in RVSM airspace, and the E1000 is ready for it. The chief benefit is great fuel efficiency. The E1000 gets up there fast, too, with a 4,000 fpm initial rate of climb.

Avionics are the Garmin G1000 NXi suite, with three displays, including a large central multifunction display, with the Genesys IntelliFlight 2100 autopilot. Even the design of the switches is laid out in an arrangement that makes for an easy, logical flow, just one of the many design choices that Epic made to its turboprop to ease pilot workload. Even the fuel system automatically balances fuel load between the wings and switches tanks automatically, as well.

There aren’t many new airplane certifications these days, so that alone would be and is cause for celebration. But when that new plane is a cutting-edge design unlike anything that came before, one that offers great performance for less, then that’s a big deal. And for that we name the Epic Aircraft E1000 as one of this year’s Plane & Pilot Planes Of The Year.

Pipistrel Velis

If the future of aviation is electric, you’re looking at the future.

In our September issue, we featured the Pipistrel Velis, the world’s first certificated all-electric plane, which earned EASA certification earlier this year and for which production is now in full swing.

Nothing about the Velis is accidental. Every bit of its design is geared toward making electric flight not only possible but also practical. With a two-hour endurance and a reasonable payload, similar to legacy two-seat trainers, the Velis is that practical training aircraft that comes close to making fuel costs go away. The truth, as always, is a little more complicated than that. The batteries are life-limited, and it takes about 90 minutes to recharge the plane fully from a low-charge state, so there’s no slamming in 30 gallons and making a quick turn. How important is that? Refer back to the fuel costs pretty much going away.

So there are compromises built into the plane, but then again, aren’t there tradeoffs with any training aircraft? We’re just so used to them that we tend to forget. High fuel costs, big engine overhaul costs and a marked lack of reliability of the drivetrain are just three of the big ones. All of those are eliminated or greatly mitigated by the all-electric design of the Velis.

And flight schools seem pumped, perhaps a poor choice of words, to get theirs. Already some in Europe are lining up for them, and by utilizing fleets of these planes and their attendant electric infrastructure, the time it takes to fully charge the batteries on one that’s just returned from a training flight can be filled by another identical Velis. That cuts down on aircraft utilization, and that’s an additional cost, but the truth is, gas piston engine-powered planes go into the shop all the time, so the greatly reduced cost of power train maintenance will mitigate the built-in downtime to the Velis as it gets its batteries juiced.

How successful will this first plane of a new breed of planes be? Time will tell, but we do know that in low-margin industries like flight training, when a new technology can reduce the costs of operation, those new technologies are usually quickly adopted.

We’re making a lot of noise about this plane, true, and that’s a bit out of place for the Velis Electro, which at certification became the quietest powered trainer in the skies. And as much talk as there is on the politics of emissions and the problem of our leaded fuel, the Velis is zero emissions and incredibly quiet, both qualities that will help propel light aviation deep into the millennium.

For its pioneering achievement and its contribution to a bigger and better future of flight, we proudly award the Pipistrel Velis as one of our Plane & Pilot Planes Of The Year.

The post 2020 Planes Of The Year: Epic E1000 & Pipistrel Velis appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Here’s the part where I describe the way the future will look. How the Pipistrel Velis Electro, the world’s first certified electric aircraft, will change everything. But there’s no way for me to do that. 

The story is this: Pipistrel, a small company in Slovenia that, despite its lack of a downtown Wichita address and even much name recognition, has managed to make itself into arguably the most innovative small-airplane company in the world, one that’s the opposite of the big-VC-bucks Silicon Valley start-up urban aerial vehicular fantasies that have tens or hundreds of millions in capital and no really good ideas to spend it on. Pipistrel is in the actual airplane business, the real airplane business, building and selling actual airplanes to be flown by actual pilots!today! Not that there’s anything wrong with well-financed visionary companies!well, on second thought, there’s a lot wrong with them, chiefly that the thing they’re selling is a vision of the future that they need to hawk slavishly in order to keep investment capital flowing in the right direction.

Pipistrel, on the other hand, once again, designs, builds, certifies and then sells airplanes. There’s something brilliantly honest about that, about this very business, and the planes the company makes are a reflection of that. Those planes are, and you’d be forgiven if you weren’t aware, quiet, efficient and fun to fly.

The Velis Electro, the company explains, is part of a system of development that has played out over many years, starting with the Alpha Electro, which first flew six years ago. It was during that protracted process that Pipistrel was able to work out a lot of the design elements that would go into the Velis Electro, which is, of course, the subject of this story.

I was tempted to think that the switch to electric propulsion was like slapping on a different engine, admittedly not a simple thing at all, especially when there’s a new fuel source. But going electric means changing everything about the way power is produced.

The payoff, however, is huge. Electric propulsion, battery-powered thrust, is flip-of-a-switch, silent running and cheap, cheap, cheap, cheap, cheap. But it takes some doing to get there.

The certification process, for one thing, was a protracted, complicated process despite Pipistrel’s real-world experience with previous electric propulsion systems. Earning that certification—the plane is certified in Europe through EASA—took three years and required Pipistrel to do a lot of the work, not only to show that the Velis Electro was airworthy and safe, but along the way, it also had to assist EASA in figuring out how to determine those things. It’s not unprecedented here in the States. Early makers of IFR-approved GPS receivers and flat-panel avionics had to help the FAA suss out out the very pathways toward certification, and such will doubtless be the case for any company looking to certificate an electric-propulsion aircraft in the United States.

RIP Combustion Engines?

Are we witnessing the death of internal combustion, fossil fuel engines? Hardly. We have a long way to go before electrics comprise even a small fraction of the fleet, and some of that growth will depend on hoped-for improvements in battery storage capacity that have yet to happen.

And the fact is, for most of us pilots who continue to drone along under fossil fuel power, the sound of electric flight remains a mystery. For me, and for you as well, flight is inextricably connected to the roar of power production, so much so that we pilots prize and hold dear to us those small technological marvels that are electronic noise-canceling headsets. The thought of flying a Cirrus or Piper or, really, just about anything, without a good-quality headset is a non-starter.

That’s not really for all of us. Those of us who have gliders and the like, and I have just a handful of hours in a smattering of different kinds of wind-powered conveyances, well, we have a sense of flying that separates itself from the engine of power, though we do so with the knowledge that we operate at the pleasure of nature, with nothing to firewall when things get tight. There’s no fire to wall.

As such, electric flight is a revelation. It is powered flight without power’s angry twin, noise, as if the clatter and din were one of the four forces of flight instead of just an unfortunate by-product of it.

The other part of power production is money, for every hour’s fuel cost is great, so great, in fact, that fuel costs are the single biggest factor keeping people away from flying on a regular basis. I drive for a couple of weeks around town in my big, inefficient, ecologically indefensible sport ute and put 40 or 50 bucks worth of gas into it when the gauge starts creeping towards “E.” In a small plane, that same amount of fuel gets depleted every hour! A fill-up after a half-day of flying will cost me half a thousand dollars.

And that’s not all. There’s the heat—combustion engines run white-hot, and much of what we do in the air is designed to keep our powerplants happy, and they are always a broken this or clogged that away from no longer producing noise or heat or thrust at all. And the costs not just of feeding these beasts, but also of keeping them alive are great. Small airplane owners without giant caches of green in their bank accounts live in fear of that day when the word “overhaul” can no longer be shushed.

Electric propulsion eliminates or greatly mitigates every one of those unfortunate hangers-on of what we think of as flight. Electric propulsion is not just revolutionary. It’s revolutionary in about five powerful, distinct ways, ways that will one day transform light airplanes into machines that make flying so cheap and clean and quiet and easy that there will be few reasons for not flying, and today there are nothing but good reasons not to fly. We fly in spite of the great demands that powerplants relentlessly put upon us.

The Pipistrel Velis Electro

There’s nothing particularly revolutionary about the Velis in terms of its design—well, at least not any more revolutionary than any of Pipistrel’s other designs. It’s profoundly similar to several other models in basic configuration: It’s a two-place, side-by-side, high-wing, tricycle gear, carbon-fiber, control sticks and all-glass airplane with a long wing that looks as though it would be right at home on a sailplane because it would.

And it’s important to understand that you can’t really think of the Velis Electro as an airplane but as a trainer, and even more to the point, as part of a trainer aircraft system because its batteries and charging stations are integral parts of this airplane, or any other electric plane making any sense in the real world. One could argue, of course, that the same is true for gas piston airplanes, which dominate our segment of aviation, and it’s undeniably true. The production, transportation and delivery of fuel are necessary to what we do, again, hang glider pilots excepted, but fossil fuel delivery is just so broadly integrated into the infrastructure of light GA that we literally don’t have to think about it. So, yeah, electrics are nothing different from that, except they’re essentially nowhere to be found yet.

So what about the motor? The one really big thing about it is the part that makes the most noise, which is hardly any noise at all. Pipistrel doesn’t specify the motor by manufacturer because, unlike gas piston engines from the likes of Rotax or Lycoming or Continental, the motor in the Velis Electro had to be certificated by the airframer, so it’s a Pipistrel TC E-811 motor.

That powerplant outputs the equivalent of only 77 hp, but the wing design is super efficient—sailplanes have motors even less powerful, you know—and the powertrain is optimized, with a composite fixed-pitch prop and liquid cooling.

Electrics are new to most of us still, but, yes, electric propulsion systems do get hot. The Velis Electro addresses this with a liquid cooling system composed of two electrically driven coolant pumps and a radiator, but in this case, what the system is designed to cool is not the motor but the batteries.

There are two battery banks, one in the nose and the other behind the seats, that are connected in parallel, each one of them putting out half the power. If one were to go kaput, it gets automatically disconnected from the system, and the remaining battery is what’s left of the fuel. Only, unlike with gas piston engines, that fuel is also the power, so you get half of both range and endurance and output. Pipistrel says it’s still enough to climb and limp home again, though bear in mind you’ll be flying behind a whopping 35 horses, so don’t expect rocket ship-level performance.

The design of the electric charging system, Pipistrel told me in an email, is a compromise “between charging time, ambient temperature, robustness and battery system lifetime,” so while it could have made charging faster, doing that comes at a cost, several costs, in fact.

“A normal charging cycle,” the company explained, that is, “from 35% to 95% SOC (state-of-charge) takes up to one hour and 20 minutes. A full charge from empty to 100%, depending on ambient temperatures and age of battery, takes up to two hours.”

In normal usage, Pipistrel explained, a training flight will last an hour, and the plane will return to base, where it will be plugged in for about 60 to 90 minutes, at which point it will be ready to launch with “full tanks.”

And it hopes that those times decrease, though it’s not blind optimism. The truth is that this stuff is new to everyone, so the company expects that “operational experience and technical improvements” will give it the kind of insights and tools to “activate charging logic profiles for shorter charging times.” Shorter charging times equal more plane usage equals more flying time equals more profit for flight schools. So, in normal operation, you head out, go fly for an hour and come home with 30 minutes’ reserve. It’s how most training works, anyway.

Schools will be outfitted with charging stations, and it’s clear that the idea is to operate fleets of planes so that while one is charging, another one that’s now fully charged can be hopped into and flown away.

But not all training. For longer flights, schools will have to use planes with more endurance and range, that is, conventionally powered planes. Is that a bad thing? Well, yes and no. On the one hand, the student will have to learn how to fly a whole new type of machine, and on the other hand, the student will get to learn how to fly a whole new type of machine. And flying electrics will be so easy, there should still be plenty of gray matter left for all the new learning to latch on.

User experience is everything in most walks of life, but in aviation, we expect pilots to accept a pretty crummy one, with hard-to-start engines, high levels of noise, and complex power systems that require high levels of knowledge to understand, let alone troubleshoot literally on the fly. The Velis Electro addresses all of those issues.

Power management is simple, in the sense that the system manages it all for the pilot, with the displays there for the pilot to monitor the health and status of the system. The pilot doesn’t need to manage the power carefully. They get to just fly. And doing that, the company says, you get an hour of flying time. We assume that could be stretched out and that at lower weights, such as when flying solo, you’ll get more time.

Speaking of weight, the payload on the plane is 378 pounds, which you can tack on to the plane’s full-fuel or empty weight, which are identical because electrons are so light.

The cost of the Velis Electro is just under $200,000 based on a July 2020 rate of exchange, which is a deal. But remember that the aircraft is part of a system, so the costs are more complicated on the front side.

On the backside, the benefits are huge, and they mostly come via the drastic cutting of fuel costs and the expected long life of the motor.

Pipistrel has already delivered a number of Velis Electros, including the first few aircraft to Swiss flight training operator AlpinAirPlanes GmbH, which will soon have 12 planes spread around 10 locations in Switzerland. The company, which has experience operating the Pipistrel Alpha Electro, is “bullish” on electrics. And to cut fuel prices even more drastically, it will install solar generators at each of its locations, to feed the charging on the aircraft, making them into solar-powered planes.

In Europe, one of the big selling points of electrics is their environmental friendliness, which isn’t as established a societal value here in the States. But if we’re honest with ourselves, the future prosperity of GA in the United States will depend on our planes getting quieter and cleaner, and when it comes to those two things, electric planes like the Pipistrel Velis Electro represent not only the future but also the necessary evolution of flying. How long that evolution will take is anybody’s guess, but we know one thing: That timeline just got a little shorter.

The post Pipistrel Velis Electro: The World’s First Certified Electric Plane appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

For reasons that are both easy to understand and completely counterintuitive, the four-seat, piston-powered airplane has, for decades, dominated the GA marketplace. And it continues to do so, even though the number of pilots who buy these planes as a transportation tool has slowed dramatically, mostly in lock step with the slowing of the overall GA piston market. The tens of thousands of personal planes sold every year in the ’60s and ’70s, the true heyday of flying in the United States, has turned into fewer than a thousand planes in a good year, and the two dozen or more available models have shrunk to just a handful.

That four-seaters should be the prototypical GA ride makes sense to pilots—but to few others. Considering that most flights go out with one or two occupants (including the pilot), it seems a two-seat alternative would make sense. I’ve thought so for years, but the market was never developed for such a runabout. This is surprising because two-seat planes, like the Van’s RV series, dominate the kitbuilt market and have for decades. Not so in the Part 23 world.

Last year, GA manufacturers worldwide turned out 1,139 piston-powered planes. In the US, manufacturers of piston planes delivered 829, including 771 singles. Of those singles, 380 of them were Cirrus SR22s or SR20s, and 160 of them were Cessna Skylanes, Skyhawks or TTx (a single delivery).

For its part, Piper Aircraft delivered 114 four-seaters in 2018. So those three manufacturers—Cessna, Cirrus and Piper—accounted for all but 87 of the piston singles sold. Sales of six-seat (or larger) piston planes need to be factored in, as well. Piper sold 20 M350s (formerly the Mirage) and Beech handed over 15 G36s.

Internationally, it doesn’t get any more crowded. The top seller among other companies was the Diamond DA40, with an impressive (but still modest by historic standards) 45 deliveries. The bottom line is that recent sales of four-seat models are scant, and those sales are dominated by a few companies.

Moreover, the profile of the customers putting cash on the cowling for four-seat planes has shifted tremendously, as well. In the ’60s and ’70s, though it’s hard to come up with firm numbers, most four-seat piston planes were marketed and sold to private owners. That still happens in some instances, especially in the case of Cirrus Aircraft, which targets affluent pilots looking for high-tech personal transportation. The two other major players, the Textron Aviation Cessna Skyhawk and the Piper Aircraft Archer, are overwhelmingly sold to flight schools.

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There have been a couple of departures from our last roundup of four-seat planes. Textron Aviation pulled the plug on the critically acclaimed but slow-selling TTx (formerly the Columbia, among other names), and it ended production of its problematic diesel-powered 172 JT-A. Piper announced this spring that it was no longer producing its four-seat retractable landing gear Arrow model, though the company acknowledged that it could and likely would restart production if a substantial fleet order materialized.

Another major change in the marketplace is the drying up of the piston-single retractable gear market. Beech sold 15 Bonanzas, and Mooney sold seven each of its Ovation Ultra and Acclaim Ultra, and that was about it. There are a couple of emerging retractable-gear models. The Pipistrel Panthera has been inching toward certification for a few years now—is this the year it gets it done? —and Diamond’s exciting DA50 retractable-gear single is looking as though it might get the company’s attention after sitting on the back burner for the past several years. Both planes are included at the end of this roundup as being on the horizon, thought if you’ve been in aviation very long, you know that the horizon is usually much farther away than it looks.

The other big wild card in this whole four-seat equation is the Part 23 rewrite—I guess we’ll have to come up with another term that now it’s been rewritten. These liberalized certification standards have been adopted but not put into practice much. As such, the new FAA standards will allow manufacturers to wrangle approval for their light planes by using industry consensus standards, much the same way as it’s done in the LSA world but with more FAA oversight. Will these changes result in more Part 23 four-seaters (or any other type, for that matter)? We’re just not sure. But in the LSA segment, this certification approach has resulted in an impressive number of new designs.

Lastly, there remain two big stumbling blocks for the return of the four-seat market to anything resembling its former glory. First, and most obvious to the consumer, is that these new planes are expensive, not just in dollar numbers, but even when adjusted for inflation and other factors. Second, the manufacturers aren’t getting rich on these planes, either. Everything they use to build these planes, including the labor, is more expensive, too.

One ray of hope is, ironically, the aging of the piston fleet. With the introduction by Garmin and a few others of game-changing avionics retrofit options for owners of older planes, which is a lot of us, there’s suddenly new life for these planes. That doesn’t mean they’re getting any younger though, just that they’re more useful to us for a while longer. But the truth is, the supply of decent used planes is shrinking, and they cost a lot to maintain.  There’s nothing we can do about either of those things.

There’s also the subject of electric power. The dream of having small planes that run on battery power is great, but it’s not happening anytime soon. Four-seat planes are about twice as heavy as two-seaters, and battery power doesn’t make much sense on two-seaters, yet. Until there are major breakthroughs in battery storage capacity and/or weight, electric flight will remain more science experiment than practical solution.

Some of the four-seaters that remain in production, however, are impressive examples of how new technology can successfully breathe life into great, old designs. Cessna’s high-wingers spring to mind. Others, like the Cirrus piston singles, are new airplanes, relatively speaking at least, and show that innovation can actually create new markets.

Click the button below to see our lineup of production Part 23 four-seat singles. Enjoy.

Cirrus SR22 G6/SR22T

Okay, the Cirrus SR22 isn’t really a four-seater—it’s a four-/five-seater, but we’ll allow it since the plane’s general configuration is identical to other recent Cirrus models, but with extra room inside to add a third, smaller backseat passenger. It’s a good thing we’re counting them, too, as the SR22 is the most-produced light plane in the world. It’s not the fastest piston single in the skies—that distinction belongs to the Mooney Acclaim Ultra, but the SR22 is the most technologically advanced model available, with its built-in whole-airplane recovery parachute system, optional known ice protection, excellent exterior lighting and much more. It’s also the bestselling single in the world once again, despite a steep price of around $900,000 with all the bells and whistles. The latest model, the SR22 G6, has the Garmin G1000 NXi avionics suite, which was rare when Cirrus launched its G6, but is now in just about every new model. NXi is great, but Cirrus takes it several steps further with its Perspective keyboard controller which, with practice, cuts down on pilot workload and eases operation. The SR22 is available in a normally aspirated or turbocharged version, though most buyers go with the turbo. That would be our call, too, as the blower allows the plane to achieve its best true airspeeds when you head up to the mid-teens, where we spend most of our time when we’re flying the plane.

Niche: Premium fixed-gear transportation plane.
Bragging Points: The chute, great styling, outstanding visibility and excellent cross-country performance, high style and excellent visibility.
Tradeoffs: Premium price point, control feel that leaves something to be desired, less-than-best-in-class speed.
Base Price: $539,900; $639,900
Price Typically Equipped: $950,000
Competitors: Mooney Acclaim Ultra, Mooney Ovation Ultra
Fun Fact: Cirrus offers trade-up programs for pilots looking to up their game in an SR22 and later transition to the SF50 Vision Jet.

Specs SR22; SR22T
Main Construction: Composite
Engine/HP: Continental IO-550-N/310 hp; Continental TSIO-550-K/315 hp
Propeller: Hartzell, 3-blade, composite, constant speed, 78 diameter; Hartzell, 3-blade, composite, constant speed, 78″ diameter
Avionics: Cirrus Perspective+ By Garmin (Garmin G1000 NXi)
Top Cruise Speed: 183 kts; 213 kts
Stall, Landing Configuration: 60 kts; 60 kts
Max Range: 1,118 nm; 1,021 nm
Max Takeoff Weight: 3,600 lbs.; 3,600 lbs.
Payload (full fuel): 798 lbs.; 716 lbs.
Useful Load: 1,330 lbs.; 1,248 lbs.
Takeoff/Landing Distance: 1,082 ft./1,178 ft. (groundroll); 1,517 ft./1,178 ft. (groundroll)

Mooney Acclaim Ultra

Mooney is back in business, and its latest models offer huge improvements in comfort and utility, while taking nothing off the eye-popping speed numbers. The Mooney Acclaim Ultra is different than previous Mooneys because it has two doors—one on each side. Construction is very similar to previous sheet-metal Mooneys, with the exception of the forward fuselage section being composite, which allowed the company to add a door and make both doors substantially larger than previous portals. As a bonus, the windows are also lower for better overall visibility. How fast is the Acclaim Ultra? As they say in Beantown, it’s wicked fast, to the tune of 240-plus knots fast. To get that speed, Mooney pairs its slick aerodynamics to a 310 hp turbocharged Continental TSIO-550. The Acclaim Ultra is now standard with the Garmin G1000 NXi, so owners can get all the latest avionics goodness. In all, the Acclaim Ultra is a four-seat single that’s faster than any other plane in its segment, has FIKI ice protection as an option and is more comfortable than ever.

Niche: Premium retractable-gear personal transportation plane.
Bragging Points: Best speed in the world, greatly improved interior, comfortable seats, tremendous range.
Tradeoffs: It’s smaller inside than an SR22 or TTx, and the gear adds complexity, weight and, down the road, maintenance.
Base Price: $769,000
Competitors: Cessna TTx, Cirrus SR22
Fun Fact: The Acclaim Ultra can trace its roots back to the original Al Mooney-designed M20 of 1955, with a wood wing. It’s come a long way since then, but it’s still built in Kerrville, Texas.

Specs
Main Construction: Composite
Engine/HP: Continental TSIO-550-G/280 hp
Propeller: Hartzell, 3-blade, metal, constant speed, 76″ diameter
Avionics: G1000 NXi
Top Cruise Speed: 242 kts
Stall, Landing Configuration: 56 kts
Max Range: 1,100nm (45-min. reserve, standard tanks)
Max Takeoff Weight: 3,368 lbs.
Payload (full fuel): 384 lbs.
Useful Load: 1,000 lbs.
Takeoff/Landing Distance: 2,100 ft./2,650 ft. (50 ft. obstacle)

Mooney Ovation Ultra

When Mooney got back into business several years ago now, Job One was to reinvigorate the lineup. In 2017, Mooney got FAA approval for its Acclaim Ultra, the turbocharged version of its slick airframe. The normally aspirated model, the Ovation Ultra, came next. The company got the thumbs up for that model last year. Like the Acclaim Ultra, the Ovation Ultra gets a fiberglass shell on the forward fuselage in place of the former sheet-metal outer shell. As on the Acclaim, this gave Mooney the ability to reimagine the forward shell, adding a pilot’s side door, enlarging and lowering the windows, all without adding additional weight. Like the Acclaim Ultra, the Ovation Ultra features the Garmin G1000 NXi avionics suite. Known icing protection is available, as is air conditioning. The big differentiator between Ovation and Acclaim is the powerplant. The Acclaim, designed to fly high, relies on better true airspeeds up there without losing horsepower for its best-in-class speed. The Ovation, on the other hand, accomplishes this with more power—310 hp compared to 280 hp for the Acclaim Ultra. It works great, too. The Ovation Ultra is the fastest normally aspirated production piston single, achieving just a couple of ticks short of 200 knots true. The model also boasts tremendous range, greater than 1,400 nm, and terrific climbing ability.

Niche: High-performance retractable-gear transportation plane
Bragging Points: Fastest non-turbo plane in its class. Top-notch avionics. 
Tradeoffs: Not as roomy as its fixed-gear competition. Does its best work at lower altitudes.
Base Price: $689,000
Competitors: Cirrus SR22, Mooney Acclaim Ultra
Fun Fact: Mooney delivered seven Ovation Ultras in 2018, the same number as for the Acclaim Ultra.

Specs
Main Construction: Metal with forward-fuselage composite skin
Engine/HP: Continental IO-550-G/310 hp
Propeller: Hartzell, 3-blade, metal, constant speed, 76″ diameter
Avionics: Garmin G1000 NXi
Top Cruise Speed: 197 kts
Stall, Landing Configuration: 59 kts
Max Range: 900 nm (45-minute reserve, standard tanks)
Max Takeoff Weight: 3,368 lbs.
Payload (full fuel): 514 lbs.
Useful Load: 1,130 lbs.
Takeoff/Landing Distance: 1,600 ft./2,500 ft. (50 ft. obstacle)

The post Four-Seat Piston Singles Round-Up appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

“Four seats, 200 knots and 1,000 nm.” These were the magic numbers CEO Ivo Boscarol set as a challenge for the collective minds of Pipistrel’s research department one morning in 2007. Faster, farther and−yes−cheaper: a huge challenge for an ultralight manufacturer. It was left to the brilliant Tine Tomazic, a young engineer who was just 24 at the time, and his small team of five to transform the dream into a reality. The house philosophy was to “design an aircraft that performs with the necessary power to fly at the lowest possible price,” a mantra that must have been deeply ingrained in the engineers’ thinking, because the result is sublime. With the Panthera, Pipistrel has created the first of a new generation of aircraft capable of succeeding the very best of the classic four-seaters.

Pipistrel engineers launched into the effort with a full armory of modernity at their disposal: carbon fiber, Kevlar and titanium, CAD and 3D printing on machines that work to better-than-millimeter precision, not to mention glass-cockpit instrumentation and more.

Chasing Knots

Less than two years after the official announcement of the aircraft at AERO Friedrichshafen—and 11 months to the day after its first flight at the hands of Mirko Anzel and Saso Knez—I arrived in Slovenia in the vicinity of Pipistrel’s factory with my test-pilot friend Christian Briand. We have the honor of being the first journalists to be invited to fly the Panthera. The emotions are stirred at the first sight of the new aircraft. In the tradition of the greatest single-engine transportation airplanes, Bonanzas and Mooneys, the Panthera is a low-wing airplane (though carbon-fiber and not a sheet-metal) single-engine, retractable-gear model). From the spinner back, its rakish lines stir some deep predatory instinct in a pilot. The aesthetic, in all its modern form and finesse, is stunning.

The aircraft is bigger than I’d thought—but smaller than a Cirrus—and right from the start, I see that the build quality is striking: There’s not a single bump or ripple in the doors, nor in the access covers. The trailing edges of the ailerons and the flaps are dead straight, immaculate—and not one bit of it looks fragile. The whole thing bears the aerodynamic signature of all Pipistrel’s aircraft, and with such racy lines, the Panthera wouldn’t look out of place on the start line at Reno.

The cowling—an aerodynamic jewel—has a reflex curvature unique in light aircraft, its line blending into the steeply raked curve of the racer-style screen/canopy. The cooling intakes, looking like two narrow slots, are fairly small, and optimized for reducing drag, while staying in keeping with the generally aggressive look. The ultimate refinement—a profiled strobe/navigation light assembly designed especially for Pipistrel—is integrated in the leading edge of the wingtips. Clever! The intention to wring out every last knot is apparent. Pipistrel’s engineers have LoPresti blood flowing in their veins. The Panthera’s tricycle gear—in this case an electrically operated retractable one—low wing and T-tail are features typical of Pipistrel aircraft. Access is via steps on each side, situated close to the trailing edges. (These will be made retractable for production aircraft.) Three large gull-wing doors provide entry to the cabin, rear-seat passengers being invited to enter or exit over the port side. Here comes the first big surprise: The volume of the cabin is very generous and certainly comparable to the Cirrus SR22. Somehow, once you’re inside of it, the aircraft appears bigger inside than it does from the outside. Nor do you have to assume the laid-back position the aircraft’s profile would suggest: with 1.25 meters at shoulder level—and more still at hip level—the cabin isn’t only very wide, but has plenty of headroom to boot.

The aircraft is bigger than I’d thought—but smaller than a Cirrus—and right from the start I see that the build quality is striking: There’s not a single bump or ripple in the doors, nor in the access covers.

It’s also stylish and comfortable. The leather seats are nicely shaped and enveloping, giving a luxury limousine feel. A central screen pillar splits the horizon into two windows, offering a cinematic panorama. The geometry allows the pilot a sightline that angles down at eight degrees—just enough, in practice.

In the rear, the passenger seats are slightly raised, making it easy to communicate with the pilot. The only thing missing here is a central armrest. The structure of the egg-shaped cabin unit is crash resistant, tested to 26g and made from Kevlar—a material safer than carbon in the event of an impact. The seats are adjustable fore and aft. The flight controls fall nicely to hand: a joystick for PIC’s left hand and three engine levers (throttle, pitch and mixture) perfectly arranged on the long central console.

While not the production configuration, the panel in the prototype is superb, easy on the eyes, symmetrical and functional, with two large Dynon Skyview screens and a central column consisting of a Garmin 750 multifunction navigator and a Garmin 635 for communications, both being touch-screen devices. A further addition is promised for the final version, but Pipistrel has sworn everyone to secrecy on the subject.

At the bottom of the stack, a further multi-function screen of Pipistrel’s own design displays trim position, interior and exterior temperatures, and air conditioning settings. The bizjet appearance is reinforced by backlit LED switches, the sculpted shape of the panel and two sets of alarm annunciators, placed airliner-style above the Skyview screens. Mounted centrally, just under the glare shield, mechanical ASI, AI and altimeter serve as backup. The way everything has been made so simple, the purity of line and functionality suggests that Pipistrel designers also have Steve Jobs’ blood in their veins.

Perhaps the biggest design consideration of any powered aircraft is the engine, and Pipistrel from the start conceived the Panthera as being somewhat engine agnostic. Tine conceived an aircraft could accommodate many types of “power eggs”—piston, electric, hybrid and turbine units—all of which would meet up with the firewall without requiring major surgery. When the project started, Pipistrel’s engineers were thinking of a 2+2. Then their thoughts turned to a full four-seater built around the six- cylinder 220/330hp Rotax that was then undergoing tests. This unit promised low fuel consumption on mogas and reduced weight in comparison to the existing American aero engines. However, for financial and strategic reasons, Rotax abandoned the project, forcing the engineers at Pipistrel to rethink. In 2009, they settled on the relatively modern 210 hp Lycoming IO-390. Lycoming promised to modify and certify this engine with “iE-2” (Electronic Fuel Injected FADEC), allowing it to run on mogas. But at the start of 2014, Lycoming announced that it was abandoning the project, obliging Pipistrel to plan for certification with the 260 hp Lycoming IO-540, a dinosaur of an engine but bullet-proof—and capable of using motor fuel. Nevertheless, if there’s sufficient demand from clients, Pipistrel will propose an IO-390 STC.

Flying The Panthera

Beanie hat-wearing, bearded, blond Saso Knez is Panthera’s test pilot. Every inch the kind of laid-back dude you’d expect to encounter in a Silicon Valley start-up, his personal look reflects the dynamism of the young team at Pipistrel. In this company, they place confidence in youth—and it’s working. One example of their fresh thinking: The safety pin of the airframe parachute is integral with the ignition key—a brilliant yet simple way of making sure that if you don’t have the pin, you can’t start the engine.

While the prototype that we’re flying is equipped with a 210 hp IO-390, it has logged over 92 hours and will at least allow us to evaluate all but the top end of the flight envelope and extrapolate the performance with the production engine, which puts out 50 hp more. With the seats adjusted, we speed through the familiar Lycoming start-up procedure and release the parking brake. The ground ride is smooth, thanks mainly to a well-balanced undercarriage and the pneumatic suspension. The bottom-hinged rudder pedals are nice to use and the toe-operated Beringer brakes are effective. Running through the traditional engine checks and pre-takeoff checklist, we set the flaps to 15°. While at ground level, the windsock hangs limply, at 2,000 feet, the reported windspeed is 10-15/200. Outside, the temperature is 14º C. There are three of us on board and our weight, along with full fuel, comes to a little more than 2,400 pounds, against an MTOW of just under 2,650 pounds.

The grass runway hasn’t been rolled, and recent rains have left it very slippery. Run up 2,660 rpm against the brakes, and we’re off. The soft runway makes for slow acceleration, holding on right rudder to keep straight. It takes 20 seconds to reach 55 knots, the book rotation speed. The aircraft leaves the ground at around 60 knots, after we’ve used up less than 1,500 feet of runway. VSI indicating positive rate of climb, undercarriage up, we settle at 80 knots for the initial climb. Maintaining direction is easy. Accelerating to 105 knots with the flaps coming up, the VSI settles to 1,100f pm in a stable climb.

While the prototype that we’re flying is equipped with a 210 hp IO-390, it has logged over 92 hours and will at least allow us to evaluate all but the top end of the flight envelope and extrapolate the performance with the production engine, which puts out 50 hp more.

From the start, good aileron feel and response are apparent. Professor Gregor Veble, the group’s aerodynamicist, has clearly done some great work on the flight controls as he hasn’t had to resort to spring loading or any other artificial devices: The pilot can feel the airflow directly through the yoke. What’s more, the longitudinal stability is good, the aircraft settling back nicely after any disturbance to trim speed. This panther already feels like an easy beast to tame. Engine cooling appears to be fine, temperature settling to 209° C on the hottest cylinder and 165° C on the coolest. We level off at 2,500 feet for an initial look at maximum level speed, making two runs up and down the same line to minimize the effects of wind. In an OAT of 11° C, full throttle—27.5 inches of manifold pressure, 2,700 rpm—gives an average true air speed (TAS) of 183 knots, and a ground speed (GS) of 180. Reducing power to 75% (26in/2,500rpm) gives 168 knots TAS and 165 knots GS. The Panthera is fast, but doesn’t yet attain the magic speed dreamed of seven years ago. With the IO-540, it’ll surely get closer. With the extra 50 hp on tap, we’d estimate an improvement in performance of 8%, which should nudge the production version of the aircraft up to 195-200 knots. At normal cruising speed, the consumption of the production model will be the same as that of 210 hp prototype: 12 gph, although the pilot can use auto fuel and thus save dozens of dollars per hour in flight. However, exploiting the full 260 hp will raise consumption by between 2 and 4 gph. On the other hand, the IO-540 will raise the maximum cruise level without requiring the complexity of a turbocharger, allow a 65-pound increase in useful load and push the maximum all-up weight to nearly 2,900 pounds. Projected operating cost should only be three percent higher, according to Pipistrel. In comparison to the renowned, classic four-seaters in the same class—the Mooney M20K (210hp) and the Bonanza P35 (260hp)—the Panthera is a very light machine. In effect, the Bonanza P35 is 700 pounds heavier, the M20K 340 pounds heavier—and the contemporary Cirrus SR22 is 700 pounds heavier. In terms of cruise speed, even with the prototype’s IO-390, the Panthera travels 15 knots faster than the Mooney and the Bonanza, and flies as fast as the Cirrus, which is powered by an engine producing 100 more horsepower.

Pussycat

In terms of handling, the Panthera approaches perfection. It requires five to six pounds of force on the yoke to pull 2g. Visibility is good, even in the bank. In turning right—the worst case for the left-seated PIC—the central pillar isn’t obtrusive, and there’s no need to bank beyond 30° to see into the turn. We climb to 7,500 feet seeking less-turbulent conditions for a further test for maximum level speed. At this altitude, full throttle gives 75% power (23.5 inches and 2,700rpm, with the mixture leaned to 12 gph) and we see 177kt TAS and 176kt GS−a very good performance, considering the available power. Ivo Boscarol’s magic number may not be achieved with 210 hp, but they’ll be flirting with 195 to 200 knots when the Panthera is fitted with an IO-540.

At 7,500 feet, we’re comfortably placed for exploring the low-speed end of the flight envelope, flying over the mountainous landscape of Slovenia as we are. First we slow, steadily reducing power, to test the lowest trim speed (85 knots) before essaying a series of stalls. First in clean configuration: buffeting appears close to the stall break, which occurs at 58 knots. There’s no tendency to pitch down or drop a wing. The ailerons give perfect control throughout. This kind of benign behavior in the stall is remarkable for an aircraft of this category.

The panel has been shaped to serve as a visual reference for the pilot: The level top of the central facet lines up with the horizon for cruising, while sloping top edges to the sides, inclined at 20°, provide a horizon reference when turning.

At 3,000 feet, we simulate a go-around: with flaps at 45º and undercarriage down, full throttle is applied. Pitching 7 degrees nose-up pegs the ASI at 75 knots, the VSI showing 350 fpm. Retracting the gear and flaps, we accelerate to 80 knots, the VSI rising quickly to 900ft/min—that’s a bit more like it!

Saso, Pipistrel’s test pilot, gave us one more interesting demonstration. Starting in level flight with just enough power set to maintain 100 knots, the flaps and gear were retracted. Without touching the throttle setting (20in/2,700rpm) and while maintaining altitude, the aircraft began to accelerate. After one minute and 30 seconds, the speed rose up to 135 knots. Gaining 35 knots simply by retracting flaps and gear shows slippery is the basic airframe. The Panthera really is a very pure aerodynamic design.

In terms of handling, the Panthera approaches perfection. It requires five to six pounds of force on the yoke to pull 2g. Visibility is good, even in the bank.

After the air work, we returned to base for a series of landings. We join downwind at 110 knots. Lowering the gear, we set the flaps to 15º. Maintaining 90 knots in this configuration requires about 20 inches of manifold pressure. Descending on base leg at 90 knots drops this to 15 inches. On final, the Panthera settles into an 80-knot approach, with the flaps at 45º. The view of the runway over the nose is good, and the aircraft is generally very easy to manage. Crossing the threshold, we begin to round out. The aircraft can be positioned very precisely. Hold off neatly and the touchdown is soft, thanks in principal to the pneumatic undercarriage, which cushions our arrival very well. In fact, the Panthera carries out the mission for which it was conceived—fast travel with the advantage of being able to land on short grass runways—to perfection. Four passengers, fuel and baggage? No problem: with full tanks, there’s 770 pounds of payload, (it will be around 840 pounds for the 260 hp version).

Panthera’s Future

Then there’s this. In the luggage compartment, a vertical tubular compartment encloses 67 pounds of airframe parachute standard equipment in the Panthera. Significantly, the Panthera will be delivered with full options and the price will include a customizable interior (seat color) and exterior paint. The final price is estimated at around $480,000 and certification is anticipated in 2017. We’re a long way still from Pantheras filling the skies—the airplane has yet to be certificated or to have entered serial production. Yet despite a serendipitous engine selection phase, the Panthera has achieved to date some remarkable performance figures with promises of more to come. Stay tuned.

Pipistrel: The Most Remarkable Aircraft Manufacturer You’ve Never Heard Of

By Isabel Goyer

It’s one of the unlikeliest stories in aviation, the rise of a company called Pipistrel from Slovenia to international recognition as one of the leaders in pushing the state of the art in light GA design, but there you have it. The name Pipistrel means “bat,” and the story is told that in the early days of the company (the late 1980s), founder Ivo Boscarol had to fly his ultralight designs at night to avoid detection by the then-communist regime that frowned on personal flying for so many different reasons. So Boscarol’s airplanes were like bats, taking the skies only at night. Insert vampire joke here. The more instructive part of the story is that with limited resources Pipistrel focused from day one on efficiency. How could they do the most with a design at a given weight and cost and fuel consumption? As it turned out, Boscarol has answers to that eternal aviation question. His airplanes have won a number of the most prestigious awards in the world for efficiency, including twice taking home the top prize in the CAFE/NASA/Google Green Flight Challenge with the model unfortunately known as the Virus—it has a stablemate known as the Sinus. Branding, people! Regardless of nomenclature, the airplanes combine whisper-slick construction with brilliant aerodynamics to create some of the most economical platforms in the sky. The Panthera, as discussed in the main article, is that incredibly advanced and efficient airframe in search of an equally advanced powerplant. Boscarol was hoping for a hybrid solution, then an advanced ignition piston design before settling for a legacy Lycoming six-banger. It’s ironic that arguably the most advanced gas-piston aircraft engine in the world—the 912is—is made by Rotax, the same company that made the primitive two-cycle engines that powered the first Pipistrels in the dark of night.

Specifications

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The post Pipistrel Panthera appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

SPECIFICATIONS

Projected base price: $470,000
Engine:  Lycoming IO-390
Seats: 4
Horsepower: 210
Empty Weight (lbs.): 1525
Useful Load (lbs.): 1120
Max Takeoff Weight (lbs.): 2645
Fuel Capacity (gals.): 58
Wingspan (ft.): 36
Length (ft.): 26
Height (ft.): 6.2
Cabin Width (in.): 43.3
Cabin Height (in.): 45 inches
Takeoff Ground Roll (ft.): 1200
Over 50-Foot Obstacle: 2200 ft
Climb Rate (fpm): 1,100 ft/min
Max Cruise Speed: 185 KIAS
Max Operating Altitude (ft.): 20,000
Stall Speed, With Flaps: 60 KIADdd
Landing 50-Ft. Obstacle (ft.): 1,870

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Rand Vollmer flies the Pipistrel Sinus LSA, a motorglider that has a 30:1 glide ratio and 202 fpm sink rate. On a long cross-country trip to Oshkosh last year, Vollmer averaged a fuel burn of under three gallons per hour.

We cruise along in the sleek, comfy Pipistrel Sinus motorglider on a northwest heading, plying the butter-smooth air at 8,500 feet and 105 knots. The iPad GPS app says groundspeed is 122 knots. Good; a bit of tailwind will help us across the 20-plus-mile stretch of Gulf of Mexico ocean.

Flaps are set in the negative position to increase cruise efficiency. And I’m enjoying the kind of pilot-report flying I rarely experience: getting several flights and multiple hours in a single LSA.

My host is Rand Vollmer, whose SALSA Aviation anchors at Zephyrhills Airport near Tampa, with a companion dealer in San Antonio, Texas. Vollmer has worked hard to make Pipistrel a prominent feature on the S-LSA map.

He has also been working on his glider commercial and CFI ratings, and invited me down from the frozen north to serve as a (very willing!) guinea pig. The last few days, I’ve met the Sinus and tried my hand at soaring above the green Florida countryside. But right now, we’re kicking back, enjoying the wonderful economy, handling and speed of the Sinus on a long flight.

Long Wings, Long Range…And Speed
The Sinus in profile looks just like the company’s Virus, Virus SW and Alpha Trainer models. They share the same all-composite bullet-shaped nose, high wing and tapering boom that ends in a lofting T-tail.

View the Sinus from the top, though, and you quickly divine what sets it apart from its siblings: While Alpha, Virus SW and Virus have 34.5, 35.1 and 40.8 feet wingspans, respectively, you don’t need to be Burt Rutan to figure out that the Sinus, with 49.1 feet of wing, is meant for soaring.

The bird enjoys the gift of a 30:1 glide ratio and 202 fpm sink rate from that high-aspect-ratio (18.3:1) wing—excellent soaring potential. What makes the Sinus a fairly remarkable motorglider, though, is its long range and fuel-sipping personality. Vollmer, round-tripping to Oshkosh Airventure last year, averaged under three gallons per hour.

That economy comes from two prime origins: 1) gorgeous, clean aerodynamics, even though the landing gear (tailwheel or optional trike) live in the slipstream, and 2) the 80 hp Rotax 912 UL engine, which turns a 15-gallon (26 gallons optional) fuel load into an impressive range 650 nm (or 890 nm) reach.

And that’s at a cruising speed around 110 knots. Many S-LSA don’t cruise that fast…and on 100 hp! And that’s at MTOW: Rand Vollmer and I weigh in at close to 400 pounds of passenger/clothing payload, yet right now, we’re humming along at 105 knots on 4,800 rpm. And that’s at full fuel (26 gallons), with 44 pounds of baggage more possible—max MTOW is 1,210 pounds.

The load factor spec is +4/-2G. Max tested load factor was +7.2/-7.2G! Strength doesn’t take a backseat to performance at Pipistrel.

Considering those power specs, you’d be tempted as I was to conclude Sinus is a tad underpowered. Au contraire! In our climb from sea level to angels 8.5, we throttled back to a cruise climb of 80 knots at around 4,800 rpm. Our climb rate was still nearly 800 fpm! Another time, climbing from 6,500 to 8,500 to cross the ocean en route to Cedar Creek, Fla., we ran at 4,400 rpm at 90 knots. Climb rate? Better than 400 fpm.

Pipistrel specs max climb at an impressive 1,280 fpm at 65 knots…but still 1,240 fpm at 84 knots! We didn’t quite reach the top value—it was a 70-degree day—but I saw 1,100 fpm, and our optional trike gear is more draggy than the standard tailwheel version.

And get this: at the economy cruise setting of 4,400 rpm, fuel burn is—wait for it—2.4 gph. That works out to around 45 miles per gallon. Yep, that’s working.

Autopilot is an available option, but Sinus is easy enough to keep on track even in the bumps, due to a responsive control feel that firms up nicely at higher speed, yet lightens agreeably at slower speeds. Slower speeds as in…thermalling.

Let’s Kill That Engine!
That’s right: It’s crankin’ and bankin’ time. At Vollmer’s invitation (I call him “Colonel” sometimes—he’s a retired Army veteran of Iraq War II), we try my hand at making those big motorglider wings grab thermals.

Just below cloud base, around 4,000 feet, the ever-smiling Vollmer talked me through the simple engine shutdown sequence. One push on the big knob at panel central feathered the prop, we slowed to best sink rate speed, (48.6 knots) and went hunting. Left wing bumps up: lift! Bank hard left, vario starts beeping. One turn, two, then fell out. Try again, maybe under that cloud over there, says Vollmer. Best glide speed is 51.3 knots, so I just bank that way. Sure enough, there’s spotty but steady lift there.

First soaring impression of the Sinus: What a sweetheart! Second impression: I could go a long way and stay up a reeeeally long time on a good soarable day in this airplane.

This happy, comfortable feeling came after just a few turns in light, choppy little thermals. The most “up” air the compact digital Brauniger ALPHA-MFD vario sang about was about 400 fpm, and for just a few seconds at that. Not a great soaring day, but clearly a very capable soaring machine. By the way, the Brauniger also displays ALT, ASI, VSI and engine function—very nice device.

I quickly felt comfortable with Sinus’ ability to drop that wing smartly on demand and set up a solid turn without having to counteract with rudder and stick a roll-out or over-bank tendency—a lovely, useful trait for soaring that lets you focus on staying in the lift without having to fight the airplane.

I managed to cop half an hour and gain hundreds of feet more than once, extending the power-off portion of our flight by half an hour in late-afternoon mild conditions. And remember, this was my first flight in the airplane. Most of my soaring experience is in hang gliders, not conventional aircraft. That should tell you what an easy-soaring sweetheart Sinus is.

The Training Part
The Sinus is by no means a touchy, overly sensitive thoroughbred. It handles beautifully with a measured control feel, and well suited for teaching students who want to learn both powered and soaring flight. Even with those long wings, it’s not inclined to fall off left or right at the stall. No sharp nose breaks either, just a mushing nose-high attitude like many LSA exhibit. The stall warning burble is subtle but noticeable, control forces get a bit mushier of course, but for a 49-foot span, there’s good roll authority even near stall, such as near landing.

Speaking of landings, I tested the bird’s robust laminated composite gear more than once when I flared late and bounced. The Sinus in that regard absorbs the bumps as agreeably as the Alpha Trainer and Virus: very sturdy, very forgiving.

Longer wings require increased vigilance in crosswinds, but the Sinus rolls with surprisingly little adverse yaw, so you don’t need much rudder. It feels less “wingy,” too, than some LSA I’ve flown with 15-feet less span! Pipistrel’s book says 45-to-45-degree roll time is 4.2 seconds. The company tends to be conservative in its performance specs, a trait of integrity. I did it easily in under three seconds, fine for banking smartly into a thermal that’s just lifted a wing to let you know its there.

The airplane climbs well behind those 80 horses. Lift off at MTOW is under 300 feet: 50-foot obstacles are cleared in less than 500 feet. Ground handling is easy, thanks to the steerable nosewheel and effective toe brakes. Rudder pedal distance adjusts easily by a pull handle.

The friction lock on the throttle lever is only adjustable on the ground. I’d recommend Pipistrel change that. On our long-distance cruise, I had to hold the lever to keep the engine from de-revving.

The company claims pilots up to 6’4″ can comfortably fit the 43’6″-wide Sinus cockpit. Indeed they can, although the composite wing spar carry-through sits in front of a tall pilot’s forehead and should be considered a potential head banger in a forward crash. I’m 5’11” and settling back in the seat, the spar isn’t objectionable. Taller pilots slouch down into what’s affectionately called “The Ivo,” after tall, rangy Pipistrel CEO Ivo Boscarol’s predilection for filling the cockpit in chaise lounge-style kickback mode.

Essential for big-span, high-efficiency wings is some form of lift killer—spoilers or air brakes—to control glide slope and avoid “ground effecting” the entire length of a runway. Sinus uses highly effective wing top air brakes that degrade sink rate to more than 1,000 fpm.

For landing, the drill is one all soaring pilots learn: roll out onto final, go to idle, ease in airbrakes, pitch to hold 60 knots, then 55 over the fence, and use the air brakes like a throttle to degrade or extend glide slope to touchdown. Once you get the hang of it, it’s a breeze.

First soaring impression of the Sinus: What a sweetheart! Second impression: I could go a long way and stay up a really long time on a good soarable day in this airplane. This happy, comfortable feeling came after just a few turns in light, choppy thermals.

Soaring. Econo-cruising. Training. For those of us (my hand raised) interested in learning to fly an airplane that takes you long-distance cruising in comfort while accommodating your desire to skyhook the invisible energy of the air with engine off, at a price ($125,000 equipped) that’s doable for a small group of pilot-owners or a soaring/touring club, get to know all three persona of the Pipistrel Sinus. It’s quite an airplane.

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Pipistrel Sinus LSA
Basic Price:	$96,480
Price As Flown:	$125,000
Engine:	Rotax 912 UL2
Engine TBO (hrs.):	2000
Wing Span:	49’1½”
Aspect Ratio:	18.3:1
Propeller:	Pipistrel VARIO
Max Takeoff Weight (lbs.):	1290
Basic Empty Weight (lbs.):	626
Useful Load (lbs.):	664
Fuel Capacity, Two Wing Tanks (gals):	15.86 (26.4 optional)
Limit Load Factor (G):	+4/ -2
PERFORMANCE
Cruise Speed (knots @75%):	110
Best Glide Ratio Speed (kts.):	51.3
Best Sink Rate Speed (kts.):	48.6
Max Cruise (kts.):	118
Max Speed, With Airbrakes (kts.):	86.4
Max Sink, With airbrakes (fpm):	1082
Vne (kts.):	120
Max Rate Of Climb (fpm):	1280
Range (nm):	650 (890 optional tanks)
Vso (kts.):	34
Vs (kts.):	35.6
Service Ceiling (ft.):	29,000
Source: www.pipistrel-usa.com

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Late last November, Pipistrel founder, Brainstormer In Chief and head honcho, Ivo Boscarol, announced a major new aircraft project—the Alpha Trainer. Boscarol, widely respected for scheming up bold visions, then motivating his crack Slovenian team of designers, engineers and fabricators to bring them to life—no matter how ambitious they seem—made three big promises about the Alpha:

1. It would debut at Germany’s big Aero show in the Spring of 2012.
2. It would begin production a month later.
3. Its price would be $85,000 complete, including full instrumentation and a GRS airframe parachute system.

Now, sky-high ballyhoo isn’t uncommon in aviation, whereas follow-through decidedly is…unless your name is Ivo Boscarol. His Alpha report card delivered straight As: The S-LSA did debut at Aero and begin production in May— but it missed its price target…it’s cheaper! At $83,995 ($89,000 after shipping and setup), the price alone makes for one of the true value stories in all of light sport.

Yet the Alpha story goes way beyond economics. Its all carbon-fiber composite airframe derives from the same basic wing and fuselage as the Virus SW (Short Wing) speedster which, depending on engine, cruises at 147 knots—at a 3.6 gph fuel burn! Virus has won NASA efficiency prizes for its spectacular efficiency.

Pipistrel optimized the SW airframe to serve a training/sport-cruising mission by dropping in a Rotax 912 80 hp power plant, removing the speed brakes, propping it down to meet the LSA speed regime with a wooden/metal-reinforced two blader, and beefing up the composite gear to handle training hard knocks.

The result is a sleek, beautifully tuned trainer cum cruiser with impressive credentials: 108-knot cruise on just 80 hp with a conservatively spec’d fuel burn of 3.5 gph, 17:1 glide ratio and a full-fuel (I’ll say it again: full-fuel) payload of 507 pounds—enough for four hours/390 miles of flight with two, 250-pound passengers aboard (30-minute reserve). Contrast that with Airplane C, a well-known, $150,000 S-LSA that can only manage an anemic 337-pound full-fuel load.

Pick Me, Teacher!
At Oshkosh, I had the good fortune to be one of the first U.S. aviation writers to fly the Alpha. This new affordable S-LSA not only lives up to its advance hype: It exceeds it. I also think of it as a breakout aircraft that has an important lesson for the light-sport industry. That lesson: small, adventurous, innovative, stay-hungry companies will lead the way.

Pipistrel was a bit of a sleeper in the U.S. market until fairly recently. The Slovenian company has built quality, advanced-design, superb-flying composite aircraft for years now. And this is the same lean, mean band of innovators who won NASA’s $1.65 million Green Flight Challenge last year with its Taurus Electro G4 electric-powered aircraft. The G4 averaged more than 100 mph for two hours on the equivalent energy of less than one gallon of gas per passenger! Given current electric power technology, that staggering feat alone amply demonstrates Pipistrel adaptability and brilliance as an organization.

In the Alpha Trainer, the company displayed its confidence by taking a years- proven planform—the glider-sleek wings and bullet-shaped profile of the Virus and Sinus—and recrafting it into an all-purpose, economical, amazingly low-priced aircraft.

Alpha is no stripped-down, trainer-only LSA either. Seriously now: How many aircraft do we have in any aviation category that cruise at 108 knots on a fuel burn of 3 to 3.5 gph (auto or Avgas) and 80 hp? Yet Alpha still climbs out at better than 1,000 fpm. Even with our all-up demo flight load of 400 pounds and a full 15-gallon fuel load in the fuselage tank, we climbed at 900 fpm…and that was at 90 knots, on a warmish, humid morning, in a new airplane and engine not yet broken in. Yeah. Alpha’s got serious chops.

There’s more than enough performance here for students in the pattern, and touch-and-go, pattern-work fuel burn is around 2.6 gph.

Speaking of cruise, some performance specs for Alpha appear to be a tad conservative. Take the published 3.6 gph at 108 knots at 5,000 rpm. At charming little Brennand Air Park north of Oshkosh, I met a gaggle of graduates from Purdue University’s vaunted aviation program. These young hot sticks have been doing some teaching in the Alpha for Don Sharp, Pipistrel’s Midwest dealer and a 30,000-hour CFI/pilot himself. Sharp got the first U.S. Alpha. All the Purdue boys say Alpha’s fuel burn at cruise is more like 2.8 to 3 gph.

Daydream Believer
Alpha received its ASTM-conforming S-LSA certificate at Oshkosh. I flew it the very next day. Simply put, it’s a dream to fly. Launching out of Brennand (dimensions: 2400×20 feet—no way. It’s more like 16 feet!), demo pilot and CFI Sean Looloian showed me the ropes during an hour’s worth of air work. We did approach, departure and accelerated stalls, slow flight, Dutch rolls, high-bank turns and roll reversals, and topped it all off with landings at dinky little Brennand—a landing challenge in any aircraft.

The cockpit is well organized. I love the new, bright and clear analog/digital 31⁄8-inch steam gauge-style instruments. The sufficiently roomy panel forgoes a big EFIS screen in favor of those round gauges, Garmin Aera 500 portable GPS in an AirGizmo dock, Garmin GTX 327 transponder, ICOM IC-A210E radio and 406 MHz ELT.

The rudder pedals are adjustable in flight. My only nag is the seat padding, which didn’t support the lumbar area and was noticeably uncomfortable for my tailbone. Tine Tomazic, Pipistrel’s R&D/test-pilot wizard, told me the seat has already been redesigned and will incorporate better support.

Visibility for a streamlined, high-wing aircraft is plenty good—forward, overhead, to the side and even to the rear. The cruise attitude is slightly nose down so the over-the-glare shield sight picture is excellent. To the sides, my eye level was about six inches below wing bottom (I’m 5’11”). The overhead window is placed perfectly to provide excellent topside views around a turn. As mentioned in my Virus pilot report previously, the overhead spar carry-through presents a bit of a forehead obstacle for taller pilots. Sitting in the cockpit will be important in evaluating Alpha’s potential for you.

In flight, thanks to its glider-ish pedigree, Alpha flies like a dolphin swims: joyfully,nimbly, beautifully. It’s fully alive in the air. I felt right at home as soon as I took the controls; this is what a clean sport aircraft should feel like.

Some specifics: Roll rate (45-to-45-degree bank=2.0 seconds) is phenomenal. Roll pressures are two-finger-light. Pitch/roll/yaw are beautifully harmonized. Rudder control is highly effective with minimal input. Only modest pedal deflections make Alpha dance beautifully in yaw. In fact, the Purdue pilots told me their Alpha students learn from Lesson One that less is more: gentle, smaller-range control inputs are considered de rigeur.

Alpha’s glider-slippery airframe teaches energy management in a hurry. I dove slightly coming out of a turn at 93 knots and we sped up to107 knots, just like that. The Alpha will make a conscious, Fred Astaire-style pilot out of anyone: There’s no need to yank this bird around the sky like a ham-handed, wooden-footed dancer. Graceful manners beget superior results with this lovely bird.

The airplane exhibits almost no adverse- yaw tendency even with fast stick deflection, yet good rudder skills do enhance performance and overall enjoyment. Once at cruise, a tap on the electric trim switch and Alpha holds its position like a rock. That’s also true of turn performance: Bank to 30 degrees and it stays at 30 degrees, with neither over-bank nor roll-out tendencies—another trait that will serve students and experienced pilots well.

Indeed, my benchmark LSA for all-around enjoyable, crisp, smooth, intuitively “right” handling has been the Remos GX—until now. The Alpha is my new Main Squeeze.

All Pipistrel aircraft have true soaring potential. And although the Alpha isn’t marketed as a motorglider, the 17:1 glide ratio is nothing to sneeze at. There’s no reason, on a soarable day, you couldn’t throttle back to idle to catch a thermal or a cloud street and cop some free energy.

Manage That Energy!
The Alpha stalls only with the greatest reluctance, at roller-coaster-like high deck angles and with benign docility even then. Easing the stick forward gets you flying again, power on or off. The high-aspect-ratio, clean composite wing delivers excellent cruise performance. Yet a new wing-tip design deliberately invokes drag when it’s most needed: during the landing phase.

The full-span flaperons, when deployed, interact with the wing tips to create additional drag. This allowed Alpha’s designers to eliminate the added weight and complexity of dive brakes, a staple of the Virus and its sister ship Sinus. By setting up a stronger vortex at the tips, glide angle is sufficiently degraded. An added benefit: students don’t have to learn dive-brake use during training.

Good glide control is still required to avoid undue drama in the landing phase: Alpha is a slippery bird even with those flaps-down, draggy tips. The optimal landing routine includes slowing below 70 knots abeam midfield, pulling on one notch of flaps (15 degrees), then slowing to 50 knots for the second, final flap setting (25 degrees).

I made three landings, including two where we came in deliberately high to confirm that, in the absence of speed brakes, a strong slip helps sufficiently to degrade glide angle without building unwanted speed. No, it’s not like throwing out a barn door as in a Cessna 172. That low-profile tail boom pulls substantially less drag than boxier airframes. But slipping is effective. I saw sink rates near 800 with no flaps and near 1,200 fpm with full flaps.

Touchdown was a breeze: I kicked her straight a few feet above that minuscule Brennand strip, countered the slight crosswind with lowered wing and a bit of rudder, then at under 50 knots, tugged an easy flare and set the bird comfortably down.

Roll response is a bit “dopier”—more sluggish—at 50 knots as expected, but effective rudder management helps maintain alignment right through the flare. Alpha really is easy to land…but keep that speed below 50 or expect a long float and possible go around.

I consider the Pipistrel Alpha Trainer to be a real breakthrough. Implemented at flight schools in sufficient numbers, it could become the Piper Cub for an entire generation of new pilots who will learn the importance of deft three-axis control and energy management…and have lots of fun in the process. The Alpha is a major step forward, and lest we forget, at a price that few LSA with conventional construction have been able to achieve. That alone should rightfully deliver it to training ramps across the country…and private hangars, too. Well done again, Pipistrel!

The post The Alpha Bet appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Epic LT
Price As Flown: :	$83,995
Wingspan (ft.):	34.5
Fuel Capacity (gals.):	15
Engine:	Rotax 912, 80 hp
Useful Load (lbs.):	597
Max Takeoff Weight (lbs.):	1212
Empty Weight (lbs.):	615
Aspect Ratio:	11.8
Prop:	63-inch Pipistrel fixed wood/metal
PERFORMANCE
Vne (kts.):	135
Vno (kts.):	108
Va (kts.):	86
Best Rate Of Climb (fpm):	1200
Vso (kts.):	7
Vs (kts.):	43

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Maybe she dressed kinda funny. Maybe he kept to himself. She was a little eccentric, joined after-school clubs and was an A student. He was a loner; didn’t play football or run track, wasn’t the flashiest guy on campus, didn’t drive a cool car. Then one day, walking down the hall or hurrying across the quad to class, this person you barely knew swam into your field of view, something shifted inside you, and your world lit up in a new and mysterious way.

That describes my sudden affection for the Pipistrel Virus. I had seen it around and planned to eventually report on it or one of its graceful siblings: The Slovenian company produces an intriguing family of capable and even exotic aircraft. But until that Oshkosh AirVenture day when I drove out to quaint Brennand Airport, I hadn’t caught the Virus bug. Then I flew it. Game on.

The Virus (pronounced “Vee-roos”) sports an aerodynamically slippery bullet-with-a-T-tail-stinger look. It’s very comfortable for extended, economical, long-range motor touring. And its long, elegant wings support excellent soaring performance, too (24:1 glide ratio, around 200 fpm sink rate). Virus pilots get 800 miles or so range in a cabin that’s roomy and well-upholstered enough to prevent distressed posteriors. It’s an excellent trainer, too, and thus brings a hybridized value to light-sport flying that few LSA can offer.

Alright, we might as well get it out of our system: English-speaking pipples tend to wrinkle up their noses at the unusual name “Virus.” “Pipistrel” comes from the company’s beginnings in 1987 when it manufactured powered delta-winged trikes, reminding the locals of bats. So yes, Virus and Sinus (another Pipistrel motorglider) might seem to suggest the company sells sick flying rodents or bats with post-nasal drip. Ba-dah-bing! Okay, joke’s over. Just use a Slovenian accent—“Vee-roos” and “See-noos”—and all sounds kosher.

Dave White, a big, super-friendly CFI, and partner/fearless leader Rand Vollmer, retired Army Col., West Point classmate of CIA Dir. David Petraeus and…founder/majordomo of San Antonio Light Sport Aircraft (SALSA—catchy, eh?), ran a clinic at Brennand on how to do a bang-up job giving demo rides for prospective customers. Every day it was flyable, the SALSA and Pipistrel clan were at Brennand, boring happy holes in the sky all day long with the Virus.

My introduction to the cockpit suggested an airplane that becomes a part of you in flight, rather than something you pile into to travel somewhere. The Virus doesn’t try to be a luxury airplane so much as a tastefully appointed craft harmonized for multiple missions.

The plane is certainly comfortable and very nicely finished. The tidy instrument panel, weight-optimized controls and attractive upholstery contribute to a well-integrated, lean/mean/fun-flying feel.

That optimized functional ethos is further exemplified in the rudder/toe-brake pedal assemblies that so easily adjust with a simple knob pull, the overhead air-brake lever and the throttle/choke lever group between the seats. The pedals and throttle/choke evoke the designer’s mindfulness for minimizing pounds.

Only two minor squawks: seat padding that felt a trifle thin, and discomfort working the flap handle that felt a bit too close to my body.

Climbing aboard under the long (almost 41 feet), high-aspect wing, the cockpit fits my 5’11” frame just fine. A strapping Texican if ever there was one, Dave White is a good two inches taller, yet there’s plenty of room, thanks to 43.3 inches of cabin width.

A GRS ballistic chute lives onboard, along with something else most LSA don’t carry: a Schempp-Hirth sailplane-style air-brake handle that raises vertical fence-like spoilers up from the wing top surfaces: vital for precise glideslope control during landing.

The push-button flap handle brings full-span flaperons into play. They reflex up to a -5 degree setting for high-speed cruise, and down to 9- or 18-degree settings for landings and soaring.

Mr. Dave talks me through the drill as we taxi down the very narrow runway at Brennand Airport’s lovely airpark. Nosewheel steering and toe brakes make for an easy ride, even on that 10-inch golf-cart-wide strip.

Scanning the carbon-fiber-weave panel shows we’ve got everything we need: a Garmin 496 GPS, Dynon’s do-it-all FlightDek D-180 EFIS, Garmin’s GTX327 transponder, a round, compact XCOM VHF transceiver, some steam-gauge backups, and every soaring pilot’s best friend: a total energy-compensating variometer to call out rising or sinking air.

Takeoff is a snap even with the 80 hp Rotax 912. Before long, as we’re climbing up at over 1,000 fpm (yep, on 80 hp!), Virus proves so sweet in handling: light on the controls, quick and easy to turn and well-balanced in pitch and roll—a real delight to fly.

And it’s slippery! “Yep,” says Dave White, “she’s a glass slipper, and you have to be attendant to that.” A couple of times, my attention wandered, and we approached the Vne of 120 knots (an LSA-glider-imposed limit). You don’t ham-hand this airplane around the sky.

We cruise climb at 100 knots at 400 fpm and 5,300 rpm—500 rpm or so below full throttle. In level cruise, I see 112 to 115 knots of cruise at 2.9 gph, and it feels like the engine is hardly working: ample tribute to the super-clean airframe.

That 40-plus feet of high-aspect, tapered-tip wing handles more like 30 feet of span. Turns require so little rudder my Piper Cub-conditioned feet tend to over-yaw the nimble bird.

Rolling 45° to 45° several times with full deflection yields times just over two seconds. I try banks with no rudder, and marvel at the paucity of adverse yaw.

The sight picture out the window, with that down-sloping bullet nose, is expansive. Visibility is fine, especially for a high-wing airplane: My eye level is a good four inches below the door frame. Likewise, the wide rectangular overhead window is perfectly placed and sized to give you a useful view of what’s ahead during turns, yet keeps out too much sunlight.

Dave talks me through slow flight, hanging on the prop at around 3,300 rpm. Since the Rotax is water and air cooled, we don’t worry about no steenking shock cooling. Below 60 knots, I pull on full flaps.

My eyebrows go up along with the nose. Shortly I see 37 knots…still good rudder and flaperon response…then 33…32…then 30! “We’re not done yet,” says Dave. Once we’ve stabilized at 27 knots, I start to feel a burble. Still plenty of control, though there’s a bit of yaw wobble, but nothing hard to handle…and remember, there’s 41 feet of wing out there!

I pull back a touch to get a nominal break at 25 knots, barely nudge the nose forward and we’re flying again. Nothing nasty, nothing scary.

Clean stall is equally impressive: The burble comes at 33 knots and again requires just a touch of down pitch to recover. Likewise, an accelerated stall attempt with -5 degree flaps and 35 degrees of bank, with the stick buried all the way aft, produces no more than a light burble and attempts to roll lazily back to level.

“This airplane just doesn’t have bad habits,” says my host. Amen, Mr. White.

For me, the sweetheart question in a soaring airplane is how well can it work minimal lift. On the way back to Brennand, though we’ve felt not a single thermal bump in more than 20 minutes, Dave shuts down the engine to demonstrate how easy it is: radio off, transponder off, mags off, switch off and the prop comes to a stop, auto-feathers, and that’s it.

Then I feel a slight tug, and a corresponding beep-beep-beep from the vario. Dave encourages me to give it a go. I gingerly ease the Virus around, chasing that most elusive, near-sunset puff of gently rising air. And I swear by the Great Soaring Pilot in the Sky, we do get a bit of a climb out of it, if just a few seconds worth. Simply wow.

I’m blown away with the comfort and performance of this airplane as I find and feel my way higher in that wispy lift. I have full confidence that if we had any lift at all, I could stay up with ease. That’s saying a lot for a motorglider you’ve just gotten to know.

After our nominal landing, I climb out into the gathering purple dusk, all smiles. Dave White nods and says, “You kept the only rule I have: You gotta climb out with the same big smile you climbed in with; it’s all about having fun!”

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