Lost in Transliteration » Aviation

The other problem with simulators

Mike — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 11:08:13 +0000

Paul Bertorelli has a new post up about the limits of simulation training, specifically as it relates to crosswind handling characteristics. The comment thread following is unusually good. I’ve never flown a motion-base simulator before, nor do I have any experience behind or in front of turbine engines or transport-category aircraft where simulator-based training formed a major component of the education, so this is a topic to which I can add very little. I would, however, point out one of my very favorite items from an issue of the Aviation Safety Letter last year: a letter talking about the limits of the simulator as a method for dealing with in-flight fires.

“Smoke in the cockpit after departure hopefully initiates a checklist routine, but only at the end of the procedure does the option of returning to the airport come into play, if at all. “Okay, that’s done, let’s carry on,” is the lesson actually learned in the training and carried forward into the flight test. Survival is only a secondary consideration,” as the letter-writer puts it. He goes on to point at SWR111 as an example of what happens when pilots fail to recognize that they’re on fire and they need to be on the ground now — a habit that seems like it would only be developed through the use of simulations. In fairness, I’m not sure how to educate pilots in this, short of lighting the plane on fire and saying, “Good luck!” So maybe there’s no other way to get around that problem.

As I said, I obviously know nothing about transport simulator training curriculum, so I can’t really speak to how it works in the real world. But when you set up a fire, and then run the fire checklist — do you then turn around and fly the plane to the ground? Do you simulate the evacuation? (CKT28M, anyone?) Could you come up with a way to realistically simulate the incapacitating effects of cockpit smoke? (Fail the flight instruments and then blow the external displays?) If we don’t do this, why don’t we do this? As we train, so shall we fight — or something like that, anyway.

When hell froze over

Mike — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 09:35:31 +0000

They call it IRROPS — irregular operations. For the flying public, it’s an inconvenience: you’re stuck somewhere you don’t want to be, trapped in a terminal with thousands of strangers, frustrated and irritated by the lack of reliable information (unless you have Internet access, and even then maybe not), arguing with unhelpful customer representatives over accommodation and meal vouchers… oh, it’s a grand old time. For the flight operations folks, it’s much worse. (No, seriously: you just have to sit there; they have to actually fix the goddamn problems. What would you rather be doing — complaining about the airline, or trying to run the thing? OK then.) We don’t often see the other side of IRROPS — during the Late Aviation Crisis, there was very little public discussion of what the airlines were doing behind the scenes — but Sean Mendis, who helped start and run the now-defunct Ghana International Airlines, has seen it all, and lived to tell about it.

If you read the URL for that link, you’ll no doubt notice it looks an awful lot like a TAF. This will probably tell you something about the story you’re about to read. Budget at least an hour — the only way I can describe it is to say: EPIC.

The phone rings from “PRIVATE NUMBER”. Strange. It’s Sussex Police. Some of our disgruntled passengers have decided to take a diversion from the prescribed path to arrivals and are now holding a sit-down protest to barricade a canceled Ryanair flight from disembarking its passengers. Quite what they are protesting nobody is really sure. They need me to meet them there immediately to sort things out. Just perfect. I head there and find a veritable riot brewing. Gatwick Security have placed themselves between the two groups of passengers (ours and Ryanair) but there is a lot of shouting and abuse being hurled from each side. To my misfortune, I seem to be perceived as the common enemy and they redirect their mutual loathing of airlines at me. The Gatwick Security folks form a cordon around me but I am beginning to get a little anxious. I am very glad when Sussex Police show up a few minutes later.

If you’re so inclined, you may also enjoy “How I learned to stop worrying and love ETOPS: 3 emergency landings in 1 week.” It’s good stuff, worthy of anyone with even a passing interest in commercial aviation’s time.

Thanks a lot, James May

Mike — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 21:35:25 +0000

It turns out that the Eyjafjallajokull eruption that stranded me in the United Kingdom earlier this year was all James May’s fault. Seriously. If you watched the first episode of Series 15 (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, uh, shame on you and you can fix that problem right now), you’ll no doubt remember James’ decision to drive up Eyjafjallajokull in a Toyota Hilux. Fine, whatever — Clarkson made some jokes about it in the episode, and that’s all great.

But then James hoisted aloft his souvenir trophy from the volcano. Anyone who knows anything about volcanoes knows Pele gets kind of pissed off when people steal rocks. “Oh, sure,” you say, secure in your belief that the ancient Hawaiians were on glue. “It’s not like Pele’s Curse is real, and besides, isn’t it only supposed to affect people who take stuff from Hawaii?” Well, maybe. I don’t know. But consider this: James took the piece of lava home to Great Britain after having recorded the theft on video. The ash cloud that Eyjafjallajokull spat out more or less made a beeline for the United Kingdom, and then sat there. For five days. Closing airspace. James May has a pilot’s license, and a job that is somewhat dependent on travel.

I can’t prove Pele was behind this. But it sure looks like punishment to me. Moral: don’t steal from the volcano. Ever ever ever.

Also, after having typed Eyjafjallajokul several times in this entry (mostly ensuring the muscle memory is there for the next time I need to type it; look for my forthcoming book on the ash crisis entitled “With Immediate Effect, Until Further Notice: Eyjafjallajokul and the Airplane,” wherein I type that word many more times!), I am forced to think endlessly about this.

It also says you can’t put squirrels down your pants for the purposes of gambling

Mike — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 20:43:37 +0000

So I was reading through the Canadian Aviation Regulations this afternoon looking for something specifically prohibiting me from dropping things from airplanes. (It turns out there isn’t any such regulation, as long as you do it safely.) And then, I stumbled on 602.25:

602.25 (1) No person shall enter or leave an aircraft in flight except with the permission of the pilot-in-command of the aircraft.

(2) No pilot-in-command of an aircraft shall permit a person to enter or leave the aircraft during flight unless
(a) the person leaves for the purpose of making a parachute descent;

(b) the entering or leaving is permitted under section 702.19; or

(c) the flight is conducted in accordance with

(i) a special flight operations certificate – special aviation event issued under section 603.02, or
(ii) a special flight operations certificate issued under section 603.67.

I think the moral of the story here is that if you decide you want out of the airplane while it’s flying, you should get permission from the pilot-in-command before opening the door and leaving. Which seems reasonable enough. But it’s the “entering” part that I find remarkably interesting — so I guess all the movie malarkey of climbing onto a helicopter’s skid after it takes off but before it gets too far away from the ground is actually illegal! Also, it goes without saying that flying up to another plane and docking to it for the purposes of inserting a commando squad in the event of a terrorist takeover is also illegal, but hey! Maybe they got 603.02/603.67 dispensation! Kurt Russell and Steven Segal at 38,000′ qualifies as a special aviation event, doesn’t it?

Homemade pornography!

Mike — Mon, 14 Jun 2010 02:35:55 +0000

(Man, I wonder what the search engines are going to do with these airplane porn posts…)

It’s the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Canadian Navy — whatever we want to call it this year — and, to mark the occasion, Victoria was inundated with naval personnel and activities over the past week. Almost a dozen ships from a half dozen countries came to town to mark the occasion. Saturday, they moved out to anchor off Royal Roads, and the Governor General came out to inspect the assembled fleet.

Then we were treated to a bit of an airshow. Highlights below the cut, or go here for the complete gallery.

Also, I learned that — despite its relatively short lens — the G11 is actually pretty good at taking airplane pictures. Who knew?

More filthy pornography!

Mike — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 12:24:36 +0000

The Australian Department of Defence released this awesome series of photographs of one of their brand-new F/A-18Fs doing some low-level flying. They are staggeringly cool pictures.

Also, a very interesting view of a 787-8. I say it too much, but I can’t help it — this plane looks better and better every time I see it.

Quick Hits

Mike — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 17:08:03 +0000

Item 1: We are so living in the future now, says William Gibson:

Say it’s midway through the final year of the first decade of the 21st Century. Say that, last week, two things happened: scientists in China announced successful quantum teleportation over a distance of ten miles, while other scientists, in Maryland, announced the creation of an artificial, self-replicating genome. In this particular version of the 21st Century, which happens to be the one you’re living in, neither of these stories attracted a very great deal of attention.

But don’t just rely on the excerpted graph! There’s a lot more — about the nature of science fiction (in particular, and fiction in general), about the way that Gibsons novels have evolved over time, and about the idea that the future isn’t going to be The Future!! anymore but rather just the future, with stuff followed by more stuff followed by more stuff. This is, in essence, the basis of the grim meathook future, which still contains the best description I’ve ever heard of the future: “it holds what the past holds: a great deal of extreme boredom punctuated by occasional horror and the odd moment of grace.” (via)

Item 2: I’m always amazed at the willingness of people to whine about air travel. (“A flight attendant on my last flight didn’t smile at me, am I entitled to compensation?”) So with that in mind, the good folks at the AAdvantage forum presentthe stupidest, most inconsequential thread ever. By design. It’s a thing of beauty.

Item 3: I wasn’t aware there was a point behind Van Halen’s infamous demands about brown M&Ms. It turns out there was a very good point, and who ever knew David Lee Roth was so sneaky?

Item 4: Depressed? Angry? Bored? As your attorney in this matter, I strongly advise you to ensure you get your daily dose of adorable assed animals. You will thank me later.

Filthy pornography!

Mike — Thu, 13 May 2010 23:48:53 +0000

This is just absolutely hard core, depraved, and totally disguisting porn. We’re talking ought-to-be-illegal degrees of filth here. Don’t click that link unless you’re willing to deal with what’s on the other side.

I was convinced these had to be fake, but they’re not. (The first thing that went through my head was, “How on earth did they IFR-certify that 40C?”) Last weekend, as a matter of fact, they took the oldest and the newest of Boeing’s products, stuck them in the sky together in formation, and took pictures.

“Beautiful” is not the adjective I would use, but I can’t think of anything stronger. WOW.

Frink also points to this, which (along with shows like Mayday), probably qualifies as a snuff film.

Encoding humor

Mike — Fri, 07 May 2010 18:49:14 +0000

I read this article about RCMP members flying commercially to serve as air marshals shortly after it was published last month, but somehow managed to miss what the actual URL was. And then I laughed, very hard. I think you will, too.

Go fever

Mike — Wed, 21 Apr 2010 07:44:33 +0000

We left to see The Lion King last night in a cloud of despondancy. The new ash plume was heading southeast, looking to blanket the entire United Kingdom for another five or six days. Little improvement was expected. I blamed watching BBC News through the doorway of the Civil Aviation Authority’s office on Kingsway, the first time in my life I have ever been thankful for the presence of “the crawl” on the bottom of the screen. Walking home along the Strand, I took a picture of a bar called “Stranded in London,” perfectly summing up my feelings. When I tell this story in the future, I don’t expect many to be sympathetic — “oh, how wonderful for you to be stuck in a city as lovely as London” and so forth — and I don’t expect that I’ll ever be able to fully explain how awful it feels to be trapped on the other side of the planet with no way to get home. I suspect that it will be one of those things you have to experience first hand to fully understand. And do I ever understand it now.

So it was with some trepidation that we turned on Sky News in our Notting Hill apartment upon returning, expecting to hear more bad news — flights canceled, airspace restrictions continue, blah blah blah. I mentally prepared myself to start making preparations to decamp for Paris or Frankfurt or Munich or Madrid. Imagine my complete surprise at the word: flights from London airports expected to resume tonight, normal operations planned from Heathrow and Gatwick by British Airways for tomorrow, check airlines for further details. The netbook was spinning up before I finished reading the crawl on the TV. And there it was, in glorious green on aircanada.com: “AC855 LHR to YVR. Scheduled. On time.”

Fast forward nine hours. We’re here in the London Lounge, killing the two hours before the gate opens and boarding begins. ACA855 is still showing ready to operate, scheduled to depart on time at 1055L this morning. FlightAware does not have routing information right now, which is a bit strange, but hardly unusual for non-North American departures. There is a mood of giddy optimism in the lounge this morning, and Heathrow was not the chaos I expected — likely the results of careful access controls on the terminal buildings, as well as discretion on the part of travelers. The departure information boards show a lot of canceled flights, but a lot of operating ones, too; Air Canada seems intent on operating this flight today, and I dearly hope they do.

Wait, I lied: while I was typing the above paragraph, FlightAware suddenly had routing information loaded into it.

BUZAD T420 WELIN UT420 TNT UN57 POL UN601 MARGO UN590 NINEX UP59 BALIX 6400N 02000W 6700N 03000W 6900N 04000W 7000N 05000W ADSAM 6900N 08000W 6730N 09000W 6530N 10000W YSM J528 YWL T201 ELIDI WHSLR2

I don’t have mapping handy right now so I can’t tell for sure, but that looks an awfully lot further north than these flights usually go. Comparison with previous flights shows a maximum latitude of 6800N; we’re apparently going to 70N. Ok, not an awful lot further — but further north just the same. (I’ll map this out tomorrow night when I get home.)

Allah be praised: it looks like we’re really going home. I don’t expect sympathy, or even understanding — just relief. I might kiss the ground in international arrivals in Vancouver.