“Know your limitations and don’t exceed them”

is common advice for aviators. That statement is all well and good, so far as it goes. It generally encourages you, as the pilot, to do a good job of preparing for each flight and keep up your stockpile of skills by regular training and practice. In doing so, you’ve made sure you’re not going to overstep your abilities. The problem is, there’s more than this one limitation involved in the average flight, beyond just the perils that can be met by our piloting ability. We need to consider the full range of hazards we’re facing, and that involves more than just assessing the pilot’s ability.

The pilot in command (PIC) of a flight certainly has to make sure that he or she’s not exceeding the capabilities they’re able to muster. Knowing when to say “no” is vital to survival, something we need to consider not just at the beginning of the flight, but throughout its progress. However, the aircraft has limitations of its own, ones established both by its design and practical performance. And the operating environment presents its own limitations on our activity, quite aside from the skills of the pilot and innate performance of the airplane.

All three sets of limitations will combine to affect the outcome of our flight. We may be the best pilot ever born, but we can’t force a tired Skyhawk to climb above its genuine absolute ceiling, undefined by any performance chart. And the finest example of a Cirrus SR22 is not going to want to lift a full load out of a backcountry strip on a warm afternoon with a density altitude reading five digits. Each of these three constraints—pilot, airplane, and environment—needs its own consideration to assure adequate safety.

There Are Pilots—Then There Are Pilots

We all like to think we have the right stuff, that we’re the proverbial “good stick” who can exercise every privilege on our certificate to the utmost perfection. On any given day, however, we can be just a little bit off our game. Remember that time you tried for a squeaker landing to impress the kids and you dropped it in with a thump? Face it, if this is your first real low-visibility takeoff into a low cloud deck in a year, you may be legal to do it, but should you?

Your piloting limitations are not a solid wall, but a fluid barrier that rises and falls with your recent experience, fatigue level, and even the amount of preparation. A hastily thrown-together trip into unfamiliar territory means raising your personal minimums for the departure. You should go only if the weather is as benign as forecast, good alternates exist, and you feel good about doing it.

There’s a country song by the late Toby Keith that goes, “I ain’t as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was.” That optimistic outlook doesn’t apply to pilots with rusty skills. Face it, you took that multiengine commercial check ride decades ago. Can you fly a zero-thrust, single-engine approach to minimums today? Probably not without some practice.

The point is, meeting the POH performance figures is a job for factory test pilots who fly every day. Establish your limitations based on needing half again or double those handbook numbers—plan to aim low and finish high. Always underpromise and overdeliver, not the other way around. You should never write checks with your mouth, or your thoughts, that your body can’t cover. Stay honest in your relationship with the airplane. You can get away with lying to other pilots, but don’t ever try lying to your aircraft about your abilities. That will come back to kill you.

• READ MORE: Pro Tips for Private Pilots: ADS-B, Are You ‘In’ or ‘Out’?

This Plane Has Always Before…

Every aircraft, even my 1946 Aeronca Champion, comes with a set of operating limitations. Beyond the ones printed on paper, there are also practical ones determined from experience. It doesn’t matter how good the pilot is, or how nice the old bird’s running, those limitations are still exactly that—limitations. Don’t ask the airplane to do more than it can. In most pilot-error accidents, the outcome was determined when the pilot made a decision to proceed outside the aircraft’s capabilities. Too many pilots have believed the brochure brag of a 700-mile range and have flight planned accordingly, to their eventual regret. Fuel is consumed in hours and minutes, not miles. Unfortunately, getting away with stretching the gas supply once or twice tends to tempt you into applying it as a matter of course.

Always ascertain which of the airplane’s bits and pieces of equipment are not available. Yes, you ought to be able to fly any procedure without the autopilot’s help, but if you’re faced with a three-hour trip in the clouds, single pilot, do you really want to do that? Sure, you might be good enough to fly an ILS down to 200 feet above the touchdown zone, but if the airplane’s glideslope needle is flagged, you’re going have to miss at the localizer-only minimums. Your superior skills aren’t the limitation; the airplane’s capability is. Be ready to work with what you have left, and that means respecting new limitations.

I have one airplane in my hangar that can only carry 500 pounds of payload with the fuel tanks topped off—that’s it, if I’m going to respect the max-takeoff-weight limit, and I will. I know better than to ask that airplane to do more than it can. We often have to work within the limitations of the aircraft we’re flying. Piloting skills have nothing to do with it. Let’s be real, part of that “pilot stuff” is making the right decision to not exceed the limitations of the equipment, whether it’s because of the engine, airframe, radios, or endurance.

This means knowing what is and isn’t possible with a given airplane’s published limitations. I once had to do a photo shoot from a Piper Cherokee Six with its rear door removed, which is allowable and safe. But then the customer wanted some shots from the other side, and he asked if we could remove the front door and shoot out that opening. No, I said, that’s not permitted by the aircraft operating limitations, and it would be an experiment I wasn’t about to conduct.

Today Is Not The Day

The operating environment often generates additional limitations over and above those of the pilot and airplane. On a recent morning, I was scheduled to test-hop an experimental plane to check rigging, a simple task well within both my own and the aircraft’s limitations. But the reported ceiling was only 400 feet at the appointed hour. So, despite the readiness of the pilot and airplane, the flight was delayed until VMC prevailed.

I often abort a flight in the old Champ for wind reasons. I’ll fly in crosswinds up to 10 mph, but no more, because I know the aged mechanical brakes aren’t able to prevent weathervaning above that figure. Taildraggers boasting more weight, better brakes, and a locking tailwheel may have higher wind limitations, but every day is different, and its conditions must be evaluated, quite aside from the pilot’s and airplane’s own limitations.

For flight in icing conditions, which should actually be called “flight avoiding icing conditions,” we need an airplane equipped for the task and a pilot who’s skilled in its use. It’s not just working boots or TKS that gives us the capability to deal with icing. It’s also important to have a fast climb rate to quickly reach nonicing airspace above the icing layer. In the absence of such performance, we’ll consider the environment to be unsuitable for flying that day.

Even the best airplane, flown by the best pilot, cannot overcome the limitations imposed by extreme operating environments. Thunderstorms, wind shear, severe icing, thick fog, strong crosswinds, and density altitude producing a negative climb rate are all factors that absolutely must be considered in the context of our ability to fly.

We have some wonderful airplanes in the marketplace, outfitted with some truly amazing avionics suites and supported by a great ground-based ATC system. Purchasers of some of those million-dollar singles have been told they can go anytime, anywhere. Not so. There are still times when the limitations of the operating environment prevail.

On Deciding

Aeronautical decision-making, or ADM, is a fashionable buzz phrase that is, in reality, as old as flight itself. Deciding to begin or continue an act of aviation requires consideration of every limitation we’re about to approach. Sometimes our total package of limitations is unbalanced by the aircraft itself, and sometimes it’s the environmental conditions of the day. And sometimes we’re just not feeling up to it. Never let someone else’s decision to fly become your own. Respect all of the limitations.

Editor’s Note: This story originally appeared in the MARCH 2024 issue of Plane & Pilot magazine.

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Most of us would probably admit that we have done this. I had this inner dialogue recently and found myself in some rough weather, and thought it was worth sharing some of the lessons that I learned through that experience.

I was living at the time in western Kansas, where (put generously) there is not exactly a “thriving” flight training market. As a student trying to work through my ratings toward a CFI certificate, this was a major inconvenience. As a result, I drove 2½ hours almost every weekend to Wichita to take flight lessons. I had been doing this for some time, and the driving was getting old. So, like any self-respecting pilot who would rather be flying, I elected on the weekend in question to rent a Cessna 172 locally and fly to my flight training, with a stop on the Kansas-Missouri border before I turned back around and landed in Wichita, so that I could count it as my long commercial cross-country.

That scenario in itself was not daunting. I’m comfortable flying through controlled airspace (Wichita is Class C with several Class D airports in the vicinity), and I have flown that particular route a handful of times. As was my habit at the time, I glanced at ForeFlight and looked at the METARs and TAFs, saw that there was a convective outlook just east of Wichita but decided that it would probably be fine because radar didn’t show much popping up, and it looked to me (with all my meteorological expertise) that any weather that did develop would stay east. To top this all off, I reasoned with myself that, if it got gnarly, I had a fresh new instrument rating, and I was flying an airplane with an excellent IFR panel (although no autopilot) and ADS-B In weather data.

Hopefully, you are seeing some of the red flags that I did not identify at the time. For starters, I didn’t get a briefing or look into the weather products with any depth. Additionally, I allowed my desire to fly and get to where I wanted to go influence my decision-making, as I rationalized that I had a capable airplane and an instrument rating. I was flying on a spring afternoon with warm weather, a good amount of humidity, and convective activity predicted. Not a good combination.

I drove out to my local airport, preflighted the airplane, saw that there wasn’t any significant weather between me and my destinations, called for a clearance for practice, and departed into VFR conditions. The first portion of the flight was relatively normal, and all I saw was some cloud buildup in the distance. This did not immediately concern me, as any weather was predicted to remain to the east of my path. As I flew over Wichita, the cloud bases started looking closer to my altitude. In addition, clouds were developing and growing in height all around. Wichita Approach started becoming very busy with flights asking for deviations around the building weather. I found myself in the same predicament and used the FIS-B weather in the panel to look at METARs in the area, knowing this was not the time to have my first real experience with actual IMC conditions.

• READ MORE: Who Is Responsible When a Student Pilot Makes a Mistake?

When I could get a word in edgewise, I requested to amend my flight plan and divert to my final destination. After some questioning from ATC, the deviation was approved, and I was given vectors to that airport. As I approached, I encountered heavy rain and had to dodge several cloud banks. Approach offered a visual or an instrument approach, and I elected to take the visual because the airport I was landing at has just two instrument approaches. The only one I was even close to was a VOR-A approach that would require a high descent rate, not to mention a final approach course that was very close to some of the aforementioned clouds. Thankfully, the visual approach and landing ended up being uneventful, and I got the airplane parked and tied down moments before more heavy rain began.

So what about the lessons learned? I have a few takeaways that have changed the way I plan my flights and make go/no-go decisions:

1. Don’t fall for “get-there-itis.” I could have easily driven to my training that afternoon. This was half get-there-itis and half “I haven’t flown in too long.” I put myself in a situation that could have ended up being much worse than it was because I didn’t consider all the factors that could have influenced me to make a safer decision.

2. Always get the briefing. This could be one from any of the following sources: ForeFlight or another EFB, Flight Service’s website, 1800wxbrief.com, or actually picking up the phone and speaking to a briefer.

3. Get better at interpreting weather products. Weather has always been a weak point for me, but I have never taken the time to really study up on those deficits in my knowledge.

All things considered, this situation never escalated to a serious risk, but it was still a thought-provoking experience and one that I will think of every time I plan a flight.

My future students will get the importance of understanding weather hammered into their minds from day one of flight training. As they say, a good pilot is always learning. 

Editor’s note: This story originally appeared in the JAN/FEB 2024 issue of Plane & Pilot magazine. 

The post Lessons Learned: Do I Really Need a Briefing? appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

I flew again as a passenger before I fully understood my condition, and staring at the clouds out the Boeing 757 window, I came to a realization that I am only capable of in my most introspective moments: Aviation is not rational. Flight cannot be depicted through an analytical description of the scientific principles discovered by Isaac Newton and Daniel Bernoulli and pioneered by Orville and Wilbur Wright. It cannot even be put down to psychological explanations of a desire to be “above,” or the process of technological advancement.

Without evidence, I believe that flight has fascinated humans since we first left the trees. We have always stared at the birds, longing to join them in the lofty space that, until the last century, belonged to them exclusively. Aviation is a romantic field, populated by romantic minds with a classical bent. Beings that can sit and break down every aspect of the technological wonder that is their mount and spout off the four forces or the hazards of a thunderstorm with ease. But when caught staring at a cloud or asked what makes the tires “squeak” on the runway in an excellent landing, their romanticism comes to the fore.

A good pilot will tell you the procedure. They will know the boldface by heart, the correct method for intercepting a holding pattern. They will complete the emergency checklists diligently and speedily, without missing a step. They will debrief their learners on shoddy techniques and share their ideas for fixing mistakes. A good pilot puts the airplane where it needs to be.

The great pilot knows the reason behind the checklists, techniques, and procedures.

The great pilot flies with an understanding of the aircraft in relation to themself, how they fit into the system that is the aircraft and crew. The learning pilot thinks about the techniques they have been taught, studies the procedures, and memorizes the checklist. They have their own techniques and use the checklist to confirm what they already know—that the system is working together well. Or confirming they missed something, tracking down the elusive feeling of incompleteness, where only the checklist can show your own idiocy.

The great pilot is making decisions throughout every maneuver, between lines of approach, power settings, or precise angles. They always start with known settings and adjust, the same as a student, but the process happens quickly enough to allow for experimentation and constant minor changes that attempt to optimize everything the plane is doing. The great pilot merges with the airplane, and together the single organism finds a way to the destination.

The great instructor will show their learners the joy of flying. They will talk the whole time, telling the until recently landlocked soul the correct pitch and power setting or the right angle of bank to complete the turn in time. They will do it all correctly, and it will look effortless. It will seem as though the airplane is doing what they ask without being told. As a learner, my only thought was, “Why isn’t it that easy when I have the controls?” As an instructor, I realized it was.

I have always maintained that I could teach a monkey to fly. Being a pilot is easy. Pull back, little trees; push forward, big trees. Set the right pitch, power, and bank angle.

Being an aviator, however, you have to experience for yourself. There’s something about flying that can’t be taught. It can only be learned, alone among the clouds. A fascination with the wind, a hunt for more groundspeed. A friendly negotiation with the controller for a straighter line toward the destination or a shorter pattern to the initial approach fix. But one thing above all: self-reliance.

Pilots are typically pictured as the height of arrogance. Zipper-suited sun gods, looking down on everyone, constantly sneering at danger and anyone who tells them no. In my firm opinion, this is not a fair stereotype. Confidence in your skills and belief in yourself are requirements to truly be a great pilot.

To be reliable to yourself, you have to believe, not just that you can do it, but that you are one of the best. When I face that mountain strip or stormy day, I have supreme confidence in my ability to overcome, because if I don’t, the airplane will kill me. One moment of doubt, one look back over my shoulder, and the mountain rears up in the windscreen, the dark rain cloud in the distance swallows me whole.

Yet pilots are also the humblest people out there. Every aviator has read a safety investigation and said, “There but for the grace of the flying gods…” We are the first to admit our mistakes in the debrief, the first to tell a student about the time we messed that up too. Our confidence comes in the moment, approaching every situation with cool, calm, collected self-confidence. I have screwed up before, and I will again, but not this time. This time, I’ll be perfect. Just like I (almost) always am. The attitude isn’t an accessory. It’s a necessity.

Aviation teaches us about the system we are all a part of. My mind, connected to the machine through handles, wires, and pushrods, fits in as a part of the larger whole. Together, I and the craft soaring through the air create a painting, a masterpiece of impressionist beauty. The winds may be against me, Mother Nature may roar to take me into her fold, but my airplane and I will always slip the surly bonds, accomplish our mission, and return braver and wiser. I am not a part of the machine. I am the machine. My brain reaches out tendrils to every part of my craft, guiding me through the updrafts and downdrafts, all to fit into my piece of the picture created by the aviation enterprise, to accomplish my specified goal, even if that is simply to enjoy.

I am an integral part of a network. People, airplanes, radio waves, and weather patterns all flow together like the colors in Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night. I make up a critical piece of the painting. The mission brief, the study of the destination and terrain, the preflight, the takeoff, the descent, the debrief, lunch at the airport, the flight home. It is all necessary for the picture to make sense and for the colors to come together. My $100 hamburger is the key.

Or is it an addiction? Is my raving just an outgrowth of my withdrawal, my fear of never getting my fix again? Maybe the romance of aviation is just a cover for a bunch of guys and gals to go out and have their fun, prancing above the average bird.

The effortless glide of a perfect liftoff opens up the heart. The view of a cloud from above, the perfectly executed holding entry, the hurtling (but completely controlled) descent 5 knots below max speed—all of it speaks to a beauty only experience can comprehend. The air-minded person sees flying as necessary for life. They enjoy every moment they’re in the air. They spend irrational amounts of time and money to be there. And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Editor’s note: This story originally appeared in the JAN/FEB 2024 issue of Plane & Pilot magazine. 

The post Zen and the Art of Airplane Operation appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

CEO Patrick Horgan expresses confidence in the innovation, stating, “This is the most robust landing gear configuration ever put on a Cub type aircraft.” He highlights its strength and braking power, emphasizing its potential to revolutionize safety in backcountry aviation.

• READ MORE: CubCrafters Takes Center Stage as Title Sponsor for Valdez STOL Celebration

The company plans to merge certified nosewheel and tailwheel landing gear into one configuration, anticipating swift FAA approval under a performance-based safety continuum doctrine.

Retrofitting options for existing X and NX Cubs are available, with anticipated reductions in insurance premiums.

Brad Damm, vice president, notes the advantages of the new quincycle landing gear, emphasizing its versatility for both off-airport and pavement landings. Despite challenges in ground taxiing, the company remains optimistic, citing the overall benefits.

The post No Foolin’? CubCrafters Gear to Help Nix Ground Loops appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Now it’s down to three possible locations: Casper, Wyoming; Pueblo, Colorado; and Roswell, New Mexico. Off the list, for now, are Buckeye, Arizona; Thermal, California; and Wendover, Utah, though RARA says the sites “each have tremendous merit and value in their own right. We will be reaching out to them to continue discussions on their potential as expansion venues in the near future.” RARA is due to announce the final choice in March.

• READ MORE: Heats Level Up as Unlimiteds Begin at ‘Last Reno’ Air Races

“We’ve been overwhelmed by the amazing, positive feedback we’ve received from the six bidding communities as a whole, as we search for the future home for the National Championship Air Races,” said Fred Telling, CEO and chairman of the board for the Reno Air Racing Association. “Through a rigorous vetting process, we feel confident that one of these three locations will provide the right mix of elements our event needs to continue to race well into the future.”

According to RARA, “a series of site visits were conducted at each of the six locations by some RARA board members, class pilot representatives, and other committee participants to assess the viability of hosting the pinnacle air racing event at their facilities. A myriad of factors were taken into account, including the ability of venues to host large crowds, handle hundreds of aircraft, and support the large racecourse needed for the event.”

These venues are vying for air racing events in 2025. For 2024, Reno will host an airshow October 4-6 featuring the U.S. Navy Blue Angels, the Canadian Snowbirds, and the U.S. Air Force F-16 Viper Demonstration Team. RARA claims that the races brought an estimated $100 million in annual economic impact to the Reno area.

Editor’s Note: This story originally appeared on kitplanes.com.

The post Future of Air Racing: Reno Replacement Selection Narrows appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Attendees were able to take part in sessions covering topics as wide ranging as pilot medical concerns, national weather service forecasting support, emergency operations, and air traffic control (ATC) coordination to name a few sessions. Presenters from the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association, Detroit’s approach control facility, National Weather Service, and industry writers and professionals brought expertise and experience to share.

Some of Michigan’s best flight instructors, promoters of safety, and mechanics also were recognized at the event. As part of the General Aviation Awards program (GAA), Michigan’s winners will be entered into consideration for regional and national recognition. The long-standing awards program is a cooperative effort between many different sponsors and organizations from the aviation industry and FAA.

For more than 50 years, the GAA program has recognized aviation professionals in flight instruction, aviation maintenance, avionics, and flight safety for their important contributions to the general aviation community.

Stephen Tupper was named the East Michigan FSDO CFI of the year’ Daniel Holtzclaw was recognized as the East Michigan FSDO and overall Michigan FAASTeam representative of the year; Marty King earned the Grand Rapids FSDO and overall Michigan aviation maintenance technician of the year; and James Whittles was honored as the Grand Rapids FSDO and overall Michigan CFI of the year.

​The GAA said these awards highlight these individuals’ important leadership roles in promoting aviation safety, education, and professionalism. 

If you missed this year’s Michigan Aviation Safety Forum, keep an eye out for 2025. The MASF is held each February in Ypsilanti and hosted at Eastern Michigan University.

More information on  the MASF event can be found here and here.

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On January 5, a door plug separated from the frame of an Alaska Airlines Boeing 737 Max 9 as it climbed through 16,000 feet. The flight crew was able to report the emergency to ATC and land the aircraft—and only minor injuries were reported. 

Aviation has grown increasingly safe over the past few decades, with safety records ticking up steadily to the point that it’s statistically less dangerous to take a commercial flight across the planet than to get in your car and drive to the next city. General aviation isn’t quite at that level, although safety numbers on that front have been climbing as well—an aging GA fleet accessible to the majority of pilots notwithstanding. This incident would seem to be a warning call to remind us that aviation is safe because we work so hard to make it so. 

But apparently there were warnings before this for this particular aircraft. According to the NTSB’s preliminary report, the aircraft had experienced pressurization problems on December 30, just a few days before the door plug blew out. 

Without knowing all of the details, I can’t comment on this particular case. 

But the whole scenario has me thinking a lot in general about the human factors of aviation and the checks we use to protect ourselves and others in the air. We have developed these checks with the full understanding that human beings are fallible and subject to pressures that can lead, at times, to bad decision-making. 

In fact, the recognition of human factors in aviation dates to its early days when accidents were often attributed solely to technical failures. Over time, it became evident that human error caused a significant number of accidents. This realization led to the establishment of human-related factors as a distinct field within aviation, with a focus on studying and mitigating the impact of those issues. 

To help mitigate this fallibility, professionals in aviation go through rigorous training and testing. They must use checklists. And they are required to make decisions that occasionally put personal interest (or at scale, economic interest) behind scrapping a flight because the risk is just too high, whether because of a potential maintenance issue, weather, or a crewmember just can’t hack it that day. 

Economic considerations in aviation are not small. Sometimes the safety of a flight is weighed against the commercial ramifications of failing to complete it. And that is powerful medicine, especially when risk looks somewhat abstract from the ground. However, pressure to complete a flight or project on schedule or within a particular budget should never eclipse safety considerations. 

It’s always worthwhile to slow down, investigate, and triple-check that our T’s are crossed and I’s dotted. We can’t allow all of the safe flights we’ve had before lead to complacency. 

Aviation is made safe by people committing to following established procedures, double-checking everything, and putting the safety of a given flight above commercial concerns or other social or psychological pressures. It takes strength to do this, but it’s so vital. In commercial aviation or general aviation, we should trust—but always verify. 

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These cutting-edge seats, renowned for their advanced S-frame inertia-absorbing technology, are being touted as redefining the standards for the Bushliner 1850 aircraft. The companies maintain the seats are engineered to enhance crashworthiness and adaptability. One of the standout features is their ability to withstand forces of up to 30 Gs—a critical development stemming from an accident that left one pilot paralyzed.

The modular and easily removable design of the seats adds another layer of versatility, according to the companies. Operators can rearrange cabin configurations, with unused seats folded and stored in cargo compartments. Notably lighter than the original seats, the JAARS S-Seats also contribute to improved fuel efficiency and overall performance.

The proven S-frame design, engineered to absorb energy during accidents, outperforms original seats lacking essential crush zones, the companies said. The seats also feature track compatibility with Brownline-style cargo and seat tracks, offering superior strength compared to T-rails.

Since safety is paramount, all seats are equipped with a four-point shoulder harness/seat belt assembly. Crew seats offer height, back angle, and fore and aft adjustability, ensuring comfort and safety for all occupants. The modifications allow for easy transition between all-cargo and all-passenger configurations.

“The agreement with JAARS Inc. also grants Bushliner Aircraft exclusive distribution rights for North America, providing manufacturers and operators across the continent with access to these innovative, crashworthy seats for multiple types of STC’d certified aircraft and experimentals,” Bushliner said in a news release.

Bushliner said the seats are available for a variety of retrofit installations, including the Cessna 206 and 185.

The post Bushliner, JAARS Want You to Pick Your Safety Seat appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

Another pilot on the frequency replied: “14A, how far north of the shoreline are you?”

“Right in the middle. I’m out here by…there…there’s a boat going by… there’s a tanker getting drug. I am out in the middle, and I’m going down now. I’m going in the water.”

It was 4:40 p.m. on January 26, 2021. The pilot, in the middle of the 10-mile Strait of Juan de Fuca between Victoria, British Columbia, and Port Angeles, Washington, alone in his 1949 Cessna 170A, had left Ketchikan, Alaska, more than six and a half hours earlier, heading to Port Angeles. He almost made it.

The other pilot asked: “Are you east or west of the [U.S.] Coast Guard station at Port Angeles, if you can tell me?”

“I don’t know, [indiscernible] water…I’m right by this boat…There’s a boat…There’s a boat getting towed by a barge. I’m going in the water now.”

The other plane called the U.S. Coast Guard, telling it the Cessna was by a boat. The pilot’s last radio transmission was: “Ya, I’m behind the boat, behind the boat.”

The 38-year-old had a commercial FAA pilot certificate, with seaplane and instrument ratings. The National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) report estimates he had about 650 hours of flight experience. At the time of the crash, the pilot did not have a FAA medical certificate.

The trip had started in Kodiak, Alaska, one day earlier. The planned destination was Lake Havasu City, Arizona. That’s a long flight, but a journey he’d made before. He stopped in Sitka, and then in Ketchikan, where he spent the night. Both wing tanks were filled, as was an aux fuel tank in the fuselage. The aircraft had no record of the third tank in the maintenance logs. NTSB analysis of fuel receipts indicates its capacity was about 15 gallons.

The post After the Accident: A Deadly Ditching appeared first on Plane & Pilot Magazine.

As a result, the FAA ordered an emergency grounding of all Boeing 737 Max 9s pending inspection. EASA, Europe’s civil aviation consortium, validated the missive for aircraft under EASA-affiliate country registrations. Those inspections continue this week, causing some flight cancellations across the U.S.

A photograph sent to Portland television station KPTV by a passenger shows a gap in the fuselage where a window would normally be and the oxygen masks deployed. A photograph taken from the exterior of the aircraft when it was on the ground shows it was a rear door that was blown out. According to industry officials, it is a panel called a “plug door,” and it can be used as a door or as a window for an extra row of seats.

There were reports of only minor injuries. One passenger reported that the force of depressurization pulled a child’s shirt off their body.

According to FlightAware.com, the flight took off from Portland at 4:52 p.m. PST, reaching an altitude of approximately 16,000 feet, then descended and returned to the airport by 5:27 p.m. 

According to a statement from Alaska Airlines, “Alaska Airlines Flight 1282 from Portland, Oregon, to Ontario, California, experienced an incident this evening soon after departure. The aircraft landed safely back at Portland International Airport with 174 guests and six6 crew members. We are investigating what happened and will share more information as it becomes available.”

The Boeing Company reports having a technical team supporting the investigation, stating, “We are aware of the incident involving Alaska Airlines Flight 1282. We are working to gather more information and are in contact with our airline customer.”

The FAA notes that the agency, along with the National Transportation and Safety Board, are investigating the incident.

The original story was posted on FLYINGmag.com and will be updated as more information becomes available.

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