Enjoyable, recreational, and misunderstood
Why airplane water skiing is as safe as anything else
By Greg Koontz
For a lot of us, flying goes beyond transportation or the desire to lift our bodies off the ground. I’ve spent most of my life transporting people to where they need to go. When I get in one of my airplanes it is most likely for recreation, flying for the love of it.
Often it is landing off-airport to visit a friend. Sometimes it’s flying aerobatics, which includes low-level airshow practice in my aerobatic box. And, yes, it can often include a pass down my pond, skimming the wheels on the water.
So, which is my most reckless and careless activity? Why would I risk my airplane (and perhaps my well-being) by doing any of these things?
Since there is no audience at my aerobatic box or my pond one can’t really say I’m showing off (hey, hold my beer, Bubba, and watch this). Could it be I am just enjoying some fun flying? At what risk? Sure, I could have an engine failure. I could have an engine failure anytime. In my pond I’m 20 feet from shore and in 12 feet of water. The Cub won’t fare well in such an incident, but the reality is, at the speed the airplane will finally flip, I will probably only get wet.
There are many times while I am out flying just for fun that an engine failure would be ugly. Therefore, the argument can be made to never fly if the mission is not absolutely necessary. What fun is that?
When this subject gets opened online it starts a firestorm of debate. What I notice is it is an argument between the never-have-done-its and the do-it-all-the-timers. I never hear debate from people who have crashed or have tried it and found it dangerous. This is because, and I admit it, it is easy.
If you never tried water skiing an airplane, you would perceive dangers that are just not there. No, you can’t accidently get too deep and flip. As long as you respect the required speed (like any flying) the water is like concrete. Nonetheless, like anything that moves fast and can be prone to sudden stops, there is danger, and danger is to be mitigated to your own tolerance. That starts with the decision to get out of bed in the morning and extends to jumping off a cliff in a wing suit and everything else you decide to do.
The FAA stance on this depends on who you talk to. Careless and reckless really has no definition. Is competing in short-field takeoffs and hanging on the propeller right after takeoff careless? It surely isn’t necessary for normal flight. Same goes with flying down a river and landing on sandbars or landing on a mountain top. The FAA might cringe at the thought of a lot of things we do, but that does not make them illegal.
If properly planned, water skiing isn’t any more reckless than many activities people choose to do. If it drives you crazy that I’m skimming water with my Cub, then don’t watch. Also, don’t fly single-engine airplanes at night or IFR, don’t fly over a large city or water or even forest or mountains. Don’t takeoff toward anything but smooth, open fields.
And, for heaven’s sake, be careful getting out of that slippery shower tomorrow morning!
Greg Koontz is a veteran airshow performer, aerobatic instructor, and founder of the Alabama Boys airshow team.
Self-indulgent, egotistical,
and wrong
Why airplane water skiing is a bad idea
By Dave Hirschman
There’s a wide gulf between the image pilots seek to project, and how our actions are perceived—and airplane water skiing is a prime example. Pilots who post videos of themselves skimming across the water’s surface with their main tires kicking up rooster tails seem to think viewers regard their exploits as cool, daring, and skillful. In fact, however, they’re more likely to be seen by their peers as foolish, self-indulgent, and egotistical. Here’s why those stinging descriptors are deserved:
First, the water ski maneuver itself requires no real talent.
As long as an airplane’s ground speed is more than nine times the square root of its tire pressure, the tires will hydroplane. A Piper Super Cub, for example, with main tires inflated to 25 pounds per square inch, will hydroplane at 45 knots (the square root of 25 is five, and nine times five equals 45). How much pilot skill is required to maintain an airplane’s hydroplane speed, or more, in level flight? Not much, and that’s the point.
Pilots recognize a cheap trick when they see one, and those who engage in such antics deserve pity—not praise.
More importantly, there’s a critical issue of pilot judgment.
Those of us who fly single-engine aircraft recognize that, inevitably, we’re beyond gliding range of safe landing areas during certain phases of flight. When we fly over forests, oceans, or densely populated urban areas, we accept calculated risks. Why, then, would pilots intentionally drag their wheels in the water knowing that a momentary power loss could damage or destroy their airplane and put passengers and bystanders at risk?
Pilots must also keep in mind that we’re not the only ones who love the outdoors, and we have no special claim to wilderness areas. Rafters on the Salmon and Colorado rivers, for example, must win a lottery before embarking on float trips there, and many must wait years for the opportunity. Shouldn’t pilots give them the courtesy of staying a respectful distance away even if we’re not legally obligated to do so?
Proponents of airplane water skiing tend to react defensively with “OK, Boomer!” ageist insults, and they have a point. There’s an undeniable link between age and experience, and older, hopefully wiser pilots are more likely to take a dim view of airplane water skiing than newbies seeing it for the first time.
More broadly, however, pilots who have been fortunate enough to fly internationally recognize the unique freedoms U.S. pilots enjoy at home, and we’re fiercely protective of those rights and responsibilities. Self-aggrandizing behavior, such as airplane water skiing, threatens all pilots with potentially heavy-handed new rules that threaten so much that we hold dear.
Aeronautical decisions are a series of risk/reward equations. On balance, the rewards of airplane water skiing seldom justify its inherent risks—to individual pilots and passengers, or the aviation community.
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