Pilotage

Mark R. Twombly is a writer and editor who has been flying for 35 years. He lives in Florida.

I tend to spend a lot of time after the fact thinking about the mistakes I committed during a flight. I wonder also about the ones I didn't catch. With the absolute clarity of vision that this kind of hindsight affords, I have arrived at a back-to-basics error-avoidance principle that should keep me from making the same and similar mistakes again. The principle may be a cliché, but I think it has the density and heft of truth: The mind shall lead, and the airplane shall follow.

My involvement in aviation as a writer and editor has put me in lots of different cockpits with lots of different pilots. Sometimes I'm at the controls, sometimes not. Over the years I've been a firsthand witness to lots of different mistakes. All of them had to do with lack of leadership.

I was once in a Piper Tri-Pacer with a novice pilot who came very close to skidding off the side of the runway while trying to force the airplane down onto a narrow runway in a stiff crosswind.

Then there was the guy who failed to correct for a developing off-centerline excursion at a rural, paved strip and ended up ground-looping the Piper Cub. Fortunately, there was no damage save to the pilot's self-image.

And there was the time a VFR pilot departed EAA AirVenture one July morning after a long delay waiting for the fog to lift. A few miles west of the airport boundary he caught up to the fog. He had to pin his hopes on the gauges and climb through the milk to clearer weather on top.

I remember flying with a pilot who forgot to switch to the main tanks before taking off over a short stretch of water in an F33A Bonanza. He discovered his mistake when the tip tanks began to run dry and the engine coughed like someone politely but firmly trying to get the pilot's attention.

I've been with a pilot who forgot to correctly close, latch, and check the cabin door before starting the takeoff roll. It popped open shortly after liftoff. Fortunately, the pilot did not try to close the door during the climb, but instead called the tower to explain the situation and request a return to the airport.

Then there was the pilot who was instructed to hold over a VOR in instrument meteorological conditions while another aircraft shot the approach. When the pilot finally was cleared for the full-procedure, nonradar-coverage approach, he set up for the outbound leg in the exact opposite direction. When the little voice in the back of his head began to yell, he realized his mistake.

And then there was the pilot I was flying with in a FlightSafety International twin turboprop simulator. Now, everyone knows that simulators don't actually fly like real airplanes. Not because they handle differently, but because in a simulator stuff's always going wrong. So-called "uneventful" flights never occur in simulators because sadistic instructors won't let it happen. Mayhem is the norm. Electrical systems short out, trucks drive out on the runway, and engines fail at the worst time.

That's just what happened to this pilot. The left engine — or was it the right? — failed suddenly and catastrophically just after the pilot had lifted off and climbed a few hundred feet.

Having just gone through the classroom training, he responded to the emergency with lightning quickness and skill. He shoved both power levers forward and checked to make sure gear and flaps were up. He identified and verified the inoperative engine, then pulled the condition lever to the feather position.

With a blur of motion, he then reached up to the overhead switch panel to twist the emergency fuel/hydraulic switch to the cutoff position — on the operating engine.

Why would I agree to fly with such numbskulls? Surely not just to get a story. No, the fact is, I had no choice. I had to fly with them because each and every one was me.

I admit to doing some really bonehead stuff in my 35 years of flying. Fortunately, most of it was in my distant, unenlightened past. When I did screw up, I realized it before the situation developed into something more serious than a really embarrassing mistake. Except, perhaps, for that off-airport dead-stick landing in the turboprop simulator. We walked away from it — everyone does from a simulated crash — but I think the hydraulic legs under the sim cab may have required some knee surgery.

I would never have had to reveal all of this if I had followed my own principle. The mind must be in control of the airplane, and not the other way around. With every one of my mistakes, it was the other way around.

If my head has already been to where I want to go before I actually get there, then the airplane will be a good team player and follow my well-thought-out commands.

When flying, the goal is no surprises, no unforced errors. Think ahead.