For serious aviators of paper-based aircraft there is no higher level of competition than the Red Bull-sponsored Paper Wings Contest. Pilots from 85 countries compete in three separate categories: Longest distance (currently 207 feet 4 inches); Longest airtime (an amazing 27.4 seconds) and aerobatics (which is jury judged based on construction, performance and creativity). All paper plane entrants must be constructed out of a single piece of A4 sized paper using folds only—no glue, staples, cutting, or ballast. The world finals will be held indoors this May at Red Bull’s Hanger 7 in Salzburg, Austria.
It took a wacky idea from the pages of science fiction to generate some positive national press for general aviation. The March 2009 first flight of the Terrafugia Transition, a roadable aircraft, or flying car, was covered by all the major networks and countless publications around the globe. The Transition’s short runway-only flights—a total of seven takeoffs and landings—went off without a flaw and the proof-of-concept air-car hopes to enter the pattern sometime this summer.
Bio-diesel fuel, synthetic jet fuels, and electric engines, may be near- and mid-term alternatives for powering aircraft, but some folks are thinking much bigger and stranger: laser propulsion. Championed by aerospace engineer Leik Myrabo, the concept involves shooting a ground-based laser at a wedge-shaped craft which holds a parabolic mirror. The mirror directs and centers the heat generated by the laser to push air temps north of 30,000 degrees. The ensuing explosion of super heated air then creates usable thrust. Successfully tested on tiny spear tip- like “lightcraft” over the last decade, Myrabo claims the technology could be used to propel satellites into orbit relatively soon and perhaps power commercial airliners in the next ten years. These ideas, along with thoughts on space-based plants that beam energy earthbound via lasers, are featured in Myrabo’s recent book, The Lightcraft Handbook.
Powered by a Subaru engine, the AK-13 is a two-seat, three-blade helicopter built in the Ukraine by Design Bureau Aerocopter. Offered by Aerocopter Canada in North America, the yet-to-be-certified helicopter promises Robinson R- 22 type performance for roughly $200K and the company claims the AK is fully aerobatic. The 850-pound helicopter provides a useful load of roughly 600 pounds.
There are many aircraft in the insurance world that are considered “difficult to insure”. There are many reasons that an aircraft may fall into that category that I will cover. Before purchasing an aircraft, insurance should always be the first item considered. Get the insurance quote in place first and then make the purchase. That way you are comfortable with the coverage training and price before you buy the aircraft.
With “difficult aircraft” you may find that even though you can obtain insurance, there may be limitations on what you can purchase in your policy. There may be longer than expected training requirements, higher deductibles, no open pilot warranties, lower liability limits, annual recurrent training requirements, age limitations, parts schedules and other restrictions. These are all things that need to be weighed into your aircraft purchase decision.
What could make an aircraft fall into a “difficult to insure” category? Many things such as a high loss ratio, high wing loading, older aircraft (we will touch more on this in a moment), aircraft not being manufactured anymore, aircraft where parts availability may be in question, aircraft that lack approved recurrent, training facilities (and/or equipment such as simulators), rare aircraft, one of a kind aircraft, many experimental aircraft, just to name a few. These are all considerations that come into play when insuring an aircraft.
Mach 1—761 miles per hour—is the speed a sound wave travels though good old air at sea level. That is nearly four football fields per second. On July 7, 1947, in the California desert, humans moved faster than this for the first time. Using pure horsepower and untested aerodynamic theory, humans felled what was once thought to be an unscalable aviation pike with a mighty boom.
Supersonic flight presents a unique set of aerodynamic challenges on one level, and some social issues on another. The Concorde’s last flight in 2003 was a sad end to supersonic flight for people in regular clothes and seemed a step backward for civil aviation. Today, however, there are several companies developing supersonic aircraft aimed at the high-end general aviation market. Work on eliminating the problematic sonic boom is also progressing. What are the primary aerodynamic obstacles to supersonic flight? How have they been solved? And what lies ahead in humankind’s perpetual quest for speed?
As aircraft design, horsepower and velocity improved during the late-1930s and early-1940s, WWII fighter pilots started running into an invisible enemy during high-speed dives. Stick lock, loss of control, control reversal and eventual catastrophic failure proved deadly consequences in the pursuit of speed. Accelerating past 500 mph, high-performance fighters were nipping at the lower cuffs of the transonic region, which exists between Mach .7 and Mach 1.2 (536 to 997 mph). Forecast by a violent buffeting, like a blown tire at high speeds, pilots were encountering the aerodynamic effects of compressibility.
As most aviators know, a wing creates part of its lift by forcing air molecules to accelerate over its upper surface, which reduces air pressure and invites the wing to rise. At lower speeds, the density of the air remains stable, but, as a pilot begins to probe transonic speeds, accelerating airflow over the top of the wing can reach sonic and supersonic speeds, forcing the aircraft’s wing to handle both sub- and supersonic speeds. The region where super- and subsonic airflows exchange blows creates a shock wave that literally compresses the once helpful air molecules and alters their properties: The confused air suddenly increases temperature, pressure and density. These waves then dramatically disrupt the aerodynamic relationship between wing and air.
In response to the higher pressure created by the shock wave, airspeed near the wing surface and behind the shock wave slows and faster moving air not affected by the wave rushes in to create a reverse flow that disrupts lift and renders flight controls useless. Additionally, the loss of energy through the creation of heat as the shock wave develops—changing the air properties—generates a large increase in drag, termed wave drag, for which the aircraft’s engines must compensate.
The legendary Bell X-1 “Glamorous Glennis,” flown by Chuck Yeager in 1947, was the first aircraft to go supersonic. It dealt with the issues of compressibility in four key areas. The X-1 was built to mimic a Browning .50 caliber bullet, which was known to do just fine at supersonic speeds of nearly 2,000 mph. The X-1’s sleek bullet lines were designed to reduce the wave drag created in supersonic flight. Robust yet very thin wings were used to reduce the airspeed increases over the wing’s upper surface, which allowed the aircraft to fly at a faster airspeed before entering the transonic region or reaching its critical Mach number—the airspeed at which airflow over the wing’s top first hits the speed of sound.
As an NTSB field investigator on accident duty, there’s no telling where you might be sent to next, as the one-call Investigator-In-Charge: a major airport, a town just a short drive away from your house, or perhaps some extremely remote location where you have to drive to the airport, catch a flight, rent a car, and then drive hours to an isolated and secluded part of the country. It can take five minutes or five days to get to where you need to be.
The majority of investigations I conducted were relatively straightforward. I would drive a short distance and head to a local airport, or catch a quick commercial flight usually sitting in the cockpit jumpseat (not only is that a good way to save government money, but the experience is invaluable and the pilots are typically curious, making for good conversation).
Current statistics reflect that approximately 65 percent of all accidents occur either during takeoff, initial climb, final approach or landing, showing that many accidents occur on or near airport property, which makes access relatively straightforward. In the majority of those cases, local authorities are already on-scene awaiting the investigative team’s arrival with areas roped off.
Occasionally, investigations take place at major airports as well. The typical air carrier incidents and accidents I worked were usually engine failures, ground collisions, wingtip strikes, and hard landings. Gaining access to the aircraft wasn’t necessarily the challenge. The difficulty was explaining to airport and airline employees that the NTSB had authority of the scene until released, that damage had to be assessed and photographs needed to be taken.On the other hand, with investigations in places other than airport property, gaining access to the actual accident site can be as clear-cut as walking a few feet or hiking a couple miles, to having a helicopter as the only means of access. More remote sites, however, present their own unique set of challenges in terms of accessibility, while a handful seem all but impossible. One such accident investigation I led involved a Piper PA-32 that impacted terrain along the side of a mountain near Pagosa Springs, Colo., a town nestled deep in the Rocky Mountains. I received notification from the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) that the aircraft had become the subject on an ALNOT (Alert Notice) after being reported overdue by concerned family members. The family was reportedly flying back to Iowa following a fishing trip in Durango, Colo., and had plans to celebrate their daughter’s birthday later that afternoon.
The first Breezy (monoplane) was built in 1964 by Charles Roloff, Robert Liposky and Carl Unger. The Breezy looks sort of like a pre WWI Glenn Curtiss Pusher, with the seats on top of the open steel tube fuselage, completely out in the open, and the nose wheel directly under the front pilot’s feet.
Carl Unger flew the Breezy to the 1965 EAA gathering in Rockford, Ill., home of the big fly-in prior to Oshkosh. The Breezy was wildly popular at Rockford, attracting attention partly because Unger gave free rides to anyone who asked. Upon returning home, Unger was greeted by requests pouring in from EAAers, for plans to build their own Breezy. Because the original RLU-1 (for Roloff, Liposky and Unger) was welded up one piece at a time without any drawings, a major effort was required to precisely measure every part of the airplane to produce a set of plans.
The prototype used a Continental C-90 and Piper PA-12 Super Cruiser wings, and the plans accommodate Cub wings from J-3, 4 and 5, through PA-11, 12, 14 and 18. After thousands of free rides to anyone who asked, the original Breezy now resides in the EAA museum in Oshkosh, Wisc. Unger, 76 years young, now flies a Breezy built in 1974 by a friend of his, who was then 14.
The Breezy Biplane is the creation of aviator and home-build experimenter George Read. Instead of the 90-hp Continental and a pair of Cub wings, Read used two sets of Aeronca Champ wings and a 125-hp Lycoming O-290. I met George Read when he flew the Breezy Biplane for 22 hours, at 50 miles per hour, from St. Petersburg, Fla. to Greenwood, Ind. He’d come up to give his brother-in-law some tail dragging instruction in a 1946 Aeronca Chief he’d bought from a friend of mine. I was 19, working for the FBO there, pumping gas and mowing grass.
The accident occurred after I had already started writing this article. Renowned mountain pilot and author Sparky Imeson died in a crash on March 17, 2009. Although there are no details of the crash and no autopsy report available at press time, there was a crucial event two days before the crash that might give us some insight. On March 15, Sparky was on an IFR flight plan at FL220 when, suddenly, he no longer appeared to have control of the aircraft. His flight path became erratic, including an unexplained climb to 23,800 feet. According to several sources, ATC talked Sparky down until he regained control of the aircraft at 15,000 feet.
How did this event affect the fatal flight two days later? From an armchair Aviation Medical Examiner point of view, let me pose these possibilities: 1) Was he truly hypoxic on March 15, or was he having a medical issue such as a transient ischemic attack or another central nervous system event? 2) If he was truly hypoxic, did it trigger an underlying problem such as coronary disease that led to a heart attack on March 17, or a stroke that caused repeat hypoxic exposure? 3) Did he have some brain injury, secondary to the hypoxic event that was exacerbated by the lower altitude of the fatal flight? Sparky had said he did not remember the last hour of the preceding high altitude flight. Or, 4) Was his 64-year-old body exhausted from the hypoxic event? We probably will never know the true cause of this tragic accident.
But there are lessons to be learned here, as there are from all accidents. Being the great instructor and teacher that he was, Sparky would be happy to know other pilots might learn from his death. The simple question Sparky may not have asked himself before the fatal flight was: “Am I ready to fly?” Pre-flighting your brain and your body is just as important as pre-flighting the aircraft—and different aircraft and different flight plans require different preparations. The physiological preflight needs to include the possibility of “no go”—just like a mechanical problem with an aircraft.
Based on all the hoopla lately, you’d think everyone has a rocket pack or two tucked into the garage corner. Fusion Man, Yves Rossy’s crossing of the English channel with his jet-powered wing, rocket pack pilot Eric Scott bursting across Colorado’s Royal Gorge ala James Bond, and last year’s Martin Jet Pack debut at Oshkosh all have people thinking propellant and backpacks. The rocket pack has been a science fiction staple since the 1920s, as superheroes and their villainous counterparts would battle for air supremacy across the pages of brightly colored comics. Robert Downey’s rocket-powered Iron Man was one of the best superhero movies of the nearly inescapable genre.
In real life, the rocket pack and its derivates continue to slowly evolve deep inside small workshops across the globe. The aerodynamic, propulsion, and safety challenges are as great as ever, but is the age of the rocket propelled personal lifting device (PLD) finally upon us? In the late years of WWII, the German army envisioned a super powered combat engineer bounding across rivers, enemy lines and minefields without a second thought. The experimental Himmelstrumer (Sky Stromer) was a pulse-jet powered pack that would allow short leaps up to 200 feet. Using two small Schmidt pulse jets, an extremely simple internal combustion engine, which ignites a charge of compressed air and fuel over and over (in a pulse) to provide useful thrust, the Germans were field testing the unit as the war ended and demand ebbed. The Himmelstrumer was one of the many German devices the allies claimed as victors and the unit reportedly made it all the way to Bell Aircraft Corporation in Buffalo, New York.
While deemed unsafe, the German jet pack inspired Bell’s Project Grasshopper, a nitrogen-fueled jet belt that would allow for superhuman leaps or a 30 mph sprint if the user leaned forward. Further development at Bell led to the first functional rocket pack in the early 1960s. Employing nitrogen to push almost pure hydrogen peroxide (H2O2) through a fine silver screen—silver serves as a catalyst for H2O2—the engine would produce a bunch of heat and water (i.e. steam) which was vectored though thrust-directing nozzles controlled by the pilot. The Bell Rocket Pack was part of a US Army development contract worth $150,000, and while it worked great, it only worked for 21 seconds on a full tank of hydrogen peroxide and required a small army of ground personnel to support.
Additionally, the unit was incredibly loud and the pilot had to wear a quasi space suite to prevent burns from the superheated exhaust gasses (740 degrees Celsius). Not an ideal arrangement for front line troops who, by default, would need to be quiet and mobile after landing. Perhaps needless to say, the Army did not continue funding the project. But Bell and the Army did continue to dabble with jet pack technology for several years in the late 1960s. With $30 million this time around, Bell built a turbo fan jet belt capable of 25-minute flights, however, many of the same problems plagued the unit’s practical application and it, to, was subsequently discontinued
As I write this, Randy Babbitt has been appointed as the new Administrator of the Federal Aviation Administration, and his workload will be overflowing as the nation struggles to adjust to economic realities. He has an impressive resumé of flying experience and The Air Line Pilots Association leadership experience. I’m hopeful that his leadership will overcome past obstacles and allow the FAA to forge ahead smartly in the increasingly complex world of aviation.The FAA is uniquely burdened with conflicts as it continues to seek its purpose in our aviation lives. As a quick review, the FAA’s mission statement is: “To provide the safest, most efficient aerospace system in the world.” In addition, the FAA’s vision statement claims “We continue to improve the safety and efficiency of flight. We are responsive to our customers and are accountable to the taxpayer and the flying public.”
I would submit to you that Mr. Babbitt is going to encounter a vise-grip twist of conflicting roles as a promoter of safety and technology, enforcer of regulations, and administrator of the budget. Here is what he will encounter as the FAA’s newest Administrator: First, I wish him and his new executive staff all the best. My hope is that they all have practical field experience in aviation in lieu of pure academic or bureaucratic resumés to assist him in charting a new course for the future.Second, the descriptive use of the word “safety” now needs to include safety from terrorism, because Homeland Security and the TSA are certainly invading our industry with sweeping mandates that directly affect our freedom to fly, the cost of flying, plus the added bureaucracy of flying.
Third, as our airspace system has been reeling from dinosaur technology syndrome for many decades, a modernization effort through NextGen has been progressing, albeit slowly. The cascade of money desperately needed to continue to implement the safety and technology benefits of NextGen will be burdened with extremely tight budgets. How can we move ahead with NextGen, ADS-B, etc. when our nation is in such debt? Fourth, there will be tremendous pressure for the new administrator to cut costs in the FAA for labor, pensions, benefits, etc. Do you remember the controller strike of 1981? When all the airlines are trimming flights, how can we justify maintaining staffing at the FAA? Hey, I’m not advocating layoffs, but, how can we justify not doing that? Any attempts to provide automation in lieu of staffing also comes at a real cost to you and me as taxpayers and pilots. There have been numerous academic efforts with the FAA and NASA to find ways to increase airport capacity, yet the near-term reality may be that just the opposite will occur.