My goodness, it’s black out there.

“Better tighten your turn; those mountains are close,” says my copilot.

Yeah, but how close? I wonder. Checking the Cessna Citation Mustang’s terrain awareness and warning system provides cold comfort: The entire display is washed in red. The synthetic-vision system software update for this airplane, unfortunately, hasn’t yet been installed, so we’re on our own. Like an insidious mantra, a voice chimes in my headset: “Caution, terrain!”

The turbulence makes life all the more uncomfortable as the wind-speed readout on the Garmin G1000 primary flight display shows more than 60 knots off our right wing. Lightning flashes somewhere in the distance, and I instinctively crank the yoke over harder and — against my better judgment — continue the descent into Lugano Airport with the jagged, unseen Swiss Alps rising all around.

Why are we doing this?

Oh, yeah, we’re not really being bounced around over southern Switzerland in a Citation Mustang. Instead, we’re seated in the relative comfort of a Level-D full-flight simulator at FlightSafety International’s newest learning center at Farnborough International Airport in southwest England. I have to keep reminding myself of this fact as Lugano’s lighted runway at last comes into view and I line up on final. The illusory depth and texture of the simulated image mere feet in front of me certainly seems real enough. The firm clunk of the wheels on the concrete as we touch down feels right, and, exiting the left side of the runway, I can even detect the bumps and expansion joints beneath the wheels while taxiing to the ramp.

Advances in computing technology over the last several decades have certainly contributed to the amazing capability of today’s full-flight simulators, but that’s not the whole story. Motion systems are being converted from hydraulic to electric for improved fidelity and smoothness, and visual systems are advancing to the point that it can be hard to tell at a glance whether you’re looking out at a real world or not. Perhaps the only thing left that can take you out of the virtual experience of sitting at the controls of a simulator are those occasions when you can try things you’d never be brave enough — or dumb enough — to do in a real airplane.

Here’s what I mean: Invariably, whenever I climb into a new flight simulator or training device I’ve not seen before, I’m offered the invitation to perform a barrel roll. Or a loop. Or a hammerhead stall. Or, as has happened more than once, a macabre suggestion that we should crash — just to see what it’s like.

Truth be told, I don’t want to do any of these things. When I’m evaluating a flight training device or simulator, I simply want to put the device through its normal regimen and experience the same sort of training scenarios that other pilots likely will during initial or recurrent training. Don’t get me wrong. Rolling a Boeing 777 at Flight Level 350 for the first time is a hoot. It’s just not very useful in making any kind of practical determination about the overall fidelity of a multimillion-dollar, six-degree-of-freedom full-flight simulator at an airline or corporate pilot training center. This is the kind of computing horsepower that, in theory, allows a pilot to earn a full type rating and head out to the line without ever spending any time behind the controls of the real airplane. Just flying the sim is enough.

There is plenty of pressure in life these days. Anyone who has been laid off knows how real the pressure is to find another job. When your boss says, “You’d better get this done by 2 p.m.,” the pressure can be intense, especially when it realistically should take at least until 4 p.m. to complete the job. Making it to work on time; getting your wife to the hospital when the contractions are only a few minutes apart; catching a flight when you left home later than you should have — all these can get our hearts racing and can lead us to cut corners and take risks we would not normally take.

There are other situations in which there really isn’t any pressure, but we can still respond as if there were. For example, when the boss says, “See if you can’t get this done by 2 p.m.,” he or she may be putting the pressure on, or may just be giving you a little pep talk with no intention to make you feel pressured, and yet you still may push yourself and even take risks to make the artificial deadline.

One of the strongest sources of perceived pressure is when you think someone’s life depends on your performance. In the early days of the Emergency Medical Services (EMS) helicopters, there was a very high accident rate. It was discovered that when pilots, who were often veterans of combat in Vietnam, were informed that a baby was dying, they would go into combat mode, with the attitude “you have to go out, but you don’t have to come back.” This led to them taking unreasonable risks with the weather, resulting in the high accident rate. A new policy was put into place in which the pilot would not be given any information about the patient, and, along with other initiatives, this led to a reduction in the number of accidents.

Recently the NTSB said that self-induced pressure may have led experienced pilots to make inappropriate decisions that resulted in accidents. The NTSB was referring to four fatal accidents that occurred in 2007 and 2008. Each pilot was serving as a volunteer for a medical transport flight, and in each case he was considered to be well qualified and experienced for the flight conditions, and yet each made decisions that resulted in a fatal accident.

Last week, I was fortunate enough to spend some time in Alaska to get my seaplane rating at Alaska Floats & Skis just outside Talkeetna. I was staying at a beautiful lodge that the flight school has available for its trainees. While I was there, a few groups of flying enthusiasts came and went – some with their spouses and children, others on solo trips. It made me realize that vacations are fabulous opportunities to get a new rating or simply improve flying skills.

One of the families I met was the Lichter family from San Diego, California. As part of their vacation, the father, Kristopher, trained for his seaplane rating. While Kristopher was out flying in the Tri-Pacer on floats, his wife and children spent time enjoying the area around Talkeetna, and went paddle boating and canoeing in the lake from which the training was conducted. The family also had an opportunity to fly with Kristopher at the controls in a Cessna 185 on floats around the glaciers surrounding Mount McKinley – the highest mountain in North America at 20,320 feet, towering over the untouched forested flatlands surrounding the Susitna River west of the town of Talkeetna.

If you don’t have your seaplane certificate, it is a perfect vacation rating. The course only takes two to three days to complete, including the checkride. So you’ll still have time to enjoy the remainder of your vacation together with your traveling partners. Unfortunately most pilots don’t have a chance to land on water often, so once you have the rating you can always do refresher flights at future vacation locations. Some outfits even let you fly to a lake and go fishing or swimming for a few hours as part of your training.

Flying on floats is just one way to combine a vacation with flight training. You can take a few hours to get a BFR while experiencing new airports in an unfamiliar, scenic location. And while getting the BFR, you could get signed off to fly the airplane, rent it and take the family flying around the area for a few days.

If you have a non-flying family, there are many locations that offer a lot activities for them to enjoy while you get your flying kick. In Hawaii, your family can go to the beach while you get out and do some island hopping. Several states, such as Idaho, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona offer incredible mountain and canyon flying, where you can take a course that will really hone your skills flying into very challenging backcountry airstrips, while your non-flying crew can go hiking in the beautiful mountains. Florida is also a great vacation destination with lots of opportunities for fun flying and non-flying activities.

And if you’re looking for an international adventure, there are some incredible vacation opportunities. For example, there are flying safaris around Africa and New Zealand where you get checked out in a Cessna 182 and take the family on a pre-planned journey through very unique l landscapes. It’s a great opportunity to find out what’s different about flying outside the United States.

Vacationing doesn’t have to mean taking a vacation from flying even if those you travel with don’t share your passion. Please share your flying vacation stories and what you learned from your experience.

We all know the old saying: flying is hours and hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. What rarely gets mentioned are those other times, when we pilots get that uneasy feeling. Many of you will know what I’m talking about. For instance, you’re flying above inhospitable-looking terrain or in solid IMC when suddenly a low fuel pressure warning annunciator blinks on. You’re not terrified, but you’re certainly not bored any longer, either.

Something similar happened to me on a VFR round-robin flight in the New York metropolitan area recently. Touching down at my first stop, Sky Manor Airport (N40), and taxiing clear of the active, the pilot of a Cessna Skyhawk announced his departure from the runway on which I’d just landed. A moment later a helicopter pilot in the pattern keyed his mic and asked if the Cessna pilot was “aware of the TFR.” The departing pilot said affirmative, but he was eastbound and so the temporary flight restriction would be no factor.

So two of the three pilots operating at this airport knew about “the TFR.” Guess who was the odd man out?

Pulling into the parking area and shutting down the engine, I couldn’t help but get that uneasy feeling, especially after reading about Russ Munson’s run in with the TFR police when he busted one on Long Island last year.

I’d of course checked the TFRs for my area of flight before departure – but maybe, somehow I’d missed something. I powered on my iPhone and pulled up the FAA’s graphical TFR website and there it was: a Presidential TFR blanketing Philadelphia.

Since I wasn’t planning on flying near Philadelphia, I hadn’t bothered to check for TFRs that far south. But at some point during my early evening pleasure flight, I got the idea that it might be fun to overfly the towns of Lambertville, New Jersey, and New Hope, Pennsylvania, separated by a steel bridge spanning the Delaware River much nearer to Philly than the Big Apple. Then a little voice told me not to deviate from my original plan – and besides, nature called and I really wanted to land.

I’m glad I did. Flying over those two idyllic river towns would have put me just inside the TFR, triggering all kinds of alarms and probably causing fighter jets to scramble from nearby McGuire Air Force Base. My only consolation would have been that, since I was monitoring Guard frequency on 121.5 MHz, I would have been made aware of the infraction very quickly.

I had to wait until I got home that night to check my computer and see how I’d missed the Philadelphia TFR. Pulling up my WSI PilotBrief account and clicking to the Interactive page showing graphical TFRs, I saw the restricted area plain as day. I think I’d missed it earlier because, as I said, I wasn’t planning on flying near Philadelphia and, if I even did see it, I might have mistaken it for the omnipresent Washington, D.C., area ADIZ.

Who knows.

So, a few lessons learned, or at least reaffirmed: 1) You formulate a plan before ever leaving the ground for a reason; 2) you need to be truly prepared to alter the plan if the need arises; and 3) now that election season is upon us, check, double-check and triple-check those TFRs.

Can light-sport aircraft be seaplanes? In short, yes. But only as long as the aircraft “intended for water operation” meets and stays within the LSA definition. And, as with land aircraft, that includes meeting a maximum takeoff weight. In the case of seaplanes, the magic number is 1,430 pounds instead of the 1,320 for single-engine land aircraft (see the March column “Why 1,320?”). So why the extra buck ten? We can trace its origin back to the FAA notice of proposed rulemaking process for the Sport Pilot/LSA rule. When deciding on the maximum takeoff weight to accommodate the seaplane structure (hull or floats), the FAA once again looked to the European microlight regulations.

“During the comment phase of the NPRM, the FAA received numerous comments requesting extra weight for seaplane LSAs,” explains David Oord, EAA’s government and advocacy specialist. “The 110-pound increase was consistent with data for the weight of floats for European microlights.”

Though the max takeoff weight wiggle room is not much, several LSA manufacturers have managed to put their single-engine land rated LSAs on floats. American Legend Aircraft Co. began offering its Legend Cub S-LSA on straight floats in 2006 and on amphibian floats in 2009. Flight Design introduced its CTLS Floatplane S-LSA this year. As for flying boats, SeaRey has been manufacturing its LSX E-LSA kit since 2009 and Icon has orders in hand for its sexy and heavily marketed A5 S-LSA, though delivery dates are not firm. And let’s not forget (how could we?) the venerable standard category J-3 Cub on floats.

For those standard category, E-LSA and amateur-built aircraft owners interested in retrofitting their land aircraft for water as an LSA, the mantra here is it’s OK as long as “it meets and stays within the LSA definition” — and the airplane’s original certification is within the LSA definition.

Now, Flying That Seaplane
Sport pilots can fly LSA intended for water operations with training and an endorsement from a seaplane-rated CFI. (Note, for amphibs with conventional gear for land use, SeaRey and Aventura, for example, you’ll have to add the tailwheel endorsement if you don’t have it already.) To get the single-engine sea class rating, you must:

• Receive a logbook endorsement from an authorized CFI certifying aeronautical knowledge and flight proficiency;

• Successfully complete a proficiency check from an authorized CFI other than the one you trained with;

• Complete FAA Form 8710-11 for the new privilege and present this application to the authorized CFI who conducted the proficiency check;

• Receive a logbook endorsement from the CFI who conducted the proficiency check certifying you are proficient in the applicable areas of operation and aeronautical knowledge and authorized for the additional category/class privilege.

Jon Brown, the head of the longtime Jack Brown’s Seaplane Base located on Lake Jessie in Winter Haven, Florida, says it takes about five hours of dual along with 1.5 hours of ground school for most pilots to receive their SES rating over a two-day period. At Brown’s, sport pilots train for their SES in Piper J3s on floats, and higher-rated pilots can choose the Maule M-7. Cost is $1,200 for the 6.5 hours of instruction, check ride and examiner’s fee.

Wednesday morning was one of those mornings I was “living the life.” At 0800 John Moreland, the southeast rep for SWT Aviation, a certified CubCrafters sales center, picked me up at Orlando-Apopka in a Sport Cub for a leisurely flight over to Deland and back so I could get a feel for the airplane. I first met John only a couple of months ago when CC’s general manager Randy Lervold took me for a demo ride in the CarbonCub out of South Lakeland Airport during Sun ’n Fun. John piloted the video ship (a Top Cub on floats) that joined us for part of our flight (check out the resulting video). After the flight and before bidding adieu, I rather shamelessly suggested to John that since he lives about an hour north of me that he invite me to go flying with him sometime when he has access to a one of the CubCrafters’ airplanes. He remembered my request. His offer came via e-mail last week informing me he had access to a Sport Cub for a couple of weeks and asked if would I like to go flying with him. … Well, ya-ah!! My enthusiasm didn’t surprise him, I’m sure, based on how much fun he knew I had in the CarbonCub — and my natural preference for “fun” flying in the light sports.

So off we went. My takeoff wasn’t as smooth as the ones I remembered doing in the CarbonCub … I was dancing a bit too much on the rudder pedals and we were on asphalt this time so John had to coach me through it.

During cruise flight, the Sport Cub felt solid and it was easy to maintain pitch and altitude without a lot of inputs. Sure, its 100 hp Continental has 80 fewer horses than it’s beefier LSA cousin’s CC340, naturally resulting in some performance differences that come with a lesser horsepower (lower climb rate of 790 fpm versus 2100 fpm, and longer takeoff distances), but if my memory was serving me well that morning in comparing the two in general flight characteristics, it basically felt the same as the CarbonCub and was a ball to fly. And, though the panel can be upgraded with glass, I found this airplane’s standard instrument panel and its layout easy to “readapt” to after having flown with glass the last year.

Arriving into the downwind for Deland’s Runway 23, I didn’t feel confident enough after the “happy” feet I had on takeoff to give landing a try so I turned the controls over to John. Another day, perhaps. We were third in line and had a Bonanza behind us, so John made quick work of getting us down and off the runway, something easy enough to do with the Sport Cub’s short landing performance. As we taxied to a parking spot, we spotted a pink RV-12 (how could we miss it?) on the flight line and several ladies standing nearby. John recognized the RV-12 owner, Judie Betz, and gave her a wave out the opened left window when she turned to watch us taxi by. The ladies are WingNuts … let me explain. WingNuts is a group of women pilots based out of Leeward Air Ranch in Ocala, Florida, who get together regularly to fly. This particular morning, five flew into Deland (via 2 Cessna 172s, a 182, a Piper Warrior and, of course, the RV-12) to meet for breakfast. What an unexpected treat it was to see so many women pilots at one time! They greeted us enthusiastically and we all headed into Airport Restaurant and Gin Mill for our morning eats.

Before heading home, we filled the two 12-gallon (usable) wing tanks with 100LL. With a 5-gph fuel burn, John would now have more than enough for several local flights before it would be time to fill up again.

Our flight home was mostly uneventful but for some bumps here and there thanks to the summer day heating up. The Cub took it all in stride and I found it easy to maintain altitude. And outfitted with a Garmin 496 that had XM Weather, we could keep close tabs on the rain showers beginning to develop in the distance. We arrived at Orlando-Apopka just in time for John to drop me off and say our goodbyes (of course, not without me reminding him to think of me again the next time he gets a CC Cub to fly!) and for him to get back to his homebase at Grass Roots before the rain settled in for the remainder of the afternoon.

Afterwards, while driving to the office, I couldn’t help but think that I wasn’t the only one “living the life” that day. And that was good to know.

You may be one of many people with a passion for flying who think that learning to fly is unachievable. But before you hang up your dream, you need to explore all your options. The number of ways to learn is limited, and for most people, it requires some financial resources. But there are other ways to get to the finish line, some of which don’t require a fat pocketbook and some of which, if you’re lucky and good, might even pay for your training.

The option you choose ultimately affects how long your training takes, the kinds of skills you come away with and, consequently, the kinds of cockpits you’ll find yourself in. If your goal is to fly recreationally and you have a full-time job, your training will need flexibility, while those who are looking for a career in aviation may be better off training at a school with more structure. Your schedule and your future flying goals and missions will determine the route you take.

I spoke with five people who shared their experiences with basic flight training. While they were all ultimately happy with the end result, the experiences were vastly different.

MILITARY
The Blue Angel
The most restrictive, structured and thorough flight training a pilot can get is through the military. To fly in the military you must first have a college education and sign up for officer training through a service academy such as the U.S. Naval or Air Force academy, an ROTC (Reserve Officer’s Training Corps) program or OCS (Officer Candidate School). Physical testing and grades determine whether you qualify for flight school and pilot training, but there is no way to know for sure until you sign up as an officer.

There is no fee for your flight training. Instead you get paid to train. But you pay with your time by signing up for several years of service. You can get eliminated from the program, but there are opportunities for remedial training, should you lag behind. Another big difference between military and civilian flying is that there is no such thing as different licenses. You either “have your wings” or you don’t.

Lt. Rob Kurrle is a Navy pilot flying the F-18 Hornet as Blue Angel number four. Though he had some flight experience prior to beginning his naval training, his basic training program was the same as that of any student entering military training. The training began with six weeks of ground school, which included mostly aircraft components, weather, aerodynamics and other basic flying-related topics. Since Rob trained in the Navy and future missions would include over-water flights, his ground school also included survival training in a pool, where he had to tread water with heavy equipment and learn how to exit a helicopter fuselage that was flipped upside down under water.

For Rob, the six-week initial ground training was followed by nearly another month of additional ground training to learn the systems of his trainer, the T-34C Turbo-Mentor — a complex single-engine turboprop airplane that cruises at around 180 knots. The ground school was intermixed with simulator training, which included engine failures and other emergencies.

“The goal for the first flight is that the student can handle any failure in the airplane,” Rob says.

Like it or not, Cirrus is now officially a Chinese company. I know that’s a bitter pill to swallow for many who viewed the Duluth, Minnesota-based company as a unique triumph of American entrepreneurial and aeronautical spirit. But let’s face it, Cirrus has been owned, in essence, by Middle Eastern investors for the last decade. An argument can be made that a Chinese manufacturing consortium is a better steward for the lightplane maker than a bank in Bahrain. On the other hand, you might also make exactly the opposite argument, and I probably wouldn’t disagree with you too strongly.

Still, you have to admit, one of the reasons the acquisition of Cirrus by China Aviation Industry General Aircraft (CAIGA) is so intriguing has to do with prospects for the manufacturer’s long-dormant single-engine Vision jet project. With the proper capital backing and a desire to produce the diminutive bizjet, an airplane that has caused Cirrus so much angst (in terms of dollars spent and relationships strained) is now, for all intents and purposes, back on the front burner.

“We’re excited to have joined forces with CAIGA,” Cirrus president and CEO Brent Wouters said when the deal closed on Monday. “This partnership will benefit our business and our customers. CAIGA has the resources that will allow us to expedite our aircraft development programs and accelerate our global expansion.”

Cirrus chairman Dale Klapmeier recently said it would take only about 36 months from the close of the deal with the Chinese to achieve FAA certification and start deliveries of the Vision jet, saying the prospects for such an aircraft were a big part of the reason CAIGA bought Cirrus in the first place.

If Cirrus and its new owners can pull off such a feat in 36 months, more power to them. I’m betting it will take somewhat longer than that. After all, for a variety of reasons, the dreams of many wide-eyed piston-aircraft manufacturers attempting to break into the business jet market have languished. Cessna was the last lightplane maker to successfully pull it off, but that was back in the late 1960s with Citation 500.

Since then, several have tried to duplicate the feat, but none have crossed the certification finish line. With Cirrus in the hands of owners dedicated to seeing dreams of the Vision become a reality, Cirrus now has a superb chance of being the first successful single-engine very light jet maker in the history of aviation.

I’m also predicting CAIGA doesn’t turn its back on its biggest trading partner and potential customer base by pulling out of Duluth in favor manufacturing exclusively in Zhuhai. I can’t claim to know the intentions of CAIGA, but the words of the company’s head are encouraging:

“We are very impressed with Cirrus’ performance in the global general aviation industry,” said Meng Xiangkai, CAIGA president. “It has a very strong record of consistent product excellence, comprehensive safety features, an outstanding management team and a highly skilled workforce who operate from advanced production facilities. We look forward to working with Cirrus’ management team to build upon its success and to expand production volume to further cement Cirrus’ leadership position in the global general aviation industry.”

I don’t know about you, but it sounds to me like Meng is definitely not a banker.