More sim, the ATP written

Linda and I got together for one last sim session going through multi-engine procedures before moving on to the airplane.

I'm finally starting to get my head around the procedures and don't have to think quite so much about every movement I make, which translates into good fun.

Linda ran me through a simulated check ride and it went reasonably well, I suppose. My ATP stalls (technically they're an “approach to stall” since you recover at the first indication of the stall rather than taking the stall through the break) went pretty well. The first two were within about 20-40 feet and I managed to fly the last one with virtually no altitude deviations, so I'm happy with that.

Steep turns worked out reasonably well to boot and I managed to handle an engine failure during an ILS without the spastic deviations that cropped up the first time I tried one.

We did a couple more engine failures, one during the takeoff roll and one just after the gear came up and while they weren't things of beauty I still haven't crashed the sim.

Next up I'll grab an instructor and head out in the airplane. Should be fun.

Less fun has been studying for the ATP written. I hate FAA written test questions because I find most of them not particularly relevant to real-world flying. The ATP written takes the typical FAA written questions to the next level and are incredibly picky, obscure and maddeningly obtuse.

I still go nuts every time a question about the Microwave Landing System crops up. I don't know that there is a single MLS in use, much less the required hardware installed on any flyable airplane. Furthermore, why on earth it matters to know that an MLS back course is updated at half the frequency of the front course or that the front course is generally usable to 20 miles while the back is only usable to 7 miles is quite simply beyond me.

On the upside, the ATP written test bank contains the first references to GPS that I've seen. Even more amazing, the GPS questions are actually quite practical and test stuff you need to know in every day flying, which makes them easy.

The most difficult part has been learning how to use the various performance charts that are used as the basis for some of the questions. The charts themselves aren't particularly difficult once you work a few problems but it takes a fair amount of time to work each question properly and there are a lot of questions that deal with performance charts.

The regulations questions are nicely obscure as well.

Knowing the required fuel reserves for a flag carrier flying out of the country to a remote area in a four-engine reciprocating aircraft vs. a supplemental air carrier in a jet probably has some real-world application in some parallel universe but I figure if I'm ever flying a jet there will be an operations specification manual that will contain my required fuel reserves plus answers to anything else I might want to know.

Anyhow, it's a challenge and it will be good to get the ATP written out of the way. I don't particularly need it right now since I'm not at ATP minimums time-wise but it's just something I want to get done.

I have the week off so my plan is to study, get more comfortable with the performance charts, get as much of the rest into short-term memory then take the test. About 30 seconds after the test is over I suspect I'll never use 95% of what I just studied ever again but who knows.

The Multi

I'm generally an optimist by nature. Starting work on the commercial multi-engine rating has turned me into a brooding, suspicious pessimist.

Turns out this is actually a healthy attitude for a multi-engine pilot.

The basic problem is that while a twin is just fine to fly with both engines running it turns into a real hairball when one engine decides to stop working. And in training one engine decides to stop working frequently.

In the interest of economy, and of getting the best training experience, I started training for the multi in the simulator with Linda. Linda is a great instructor, has a couple thousand hours of multi-engine experience, flies her own Twin Comanche and -- most importantly -- has the patience of a saint.

She's suffered through teaching me instrument flying and teaching me aerodynamics during my CFI training. Now she has the task of taking someone with a fair amount of single-engine time and getting him to think like a multi-engine pilot.

Our first session in the box was an eye-opener. I'd studied before-hand and understood the basic theories behind flying a twin on one engine, but I had no connection between the theory and actually flying the thing.

The most frustrating part, by far, was a total lack of muscle memory on my part. Just controlling two throttles instead of one took most of my concentration. It's been a long time since I've had to think about adjusting a throttle and suddenly I was back to my student pilot days, when I had to think about every movement I was making, which doesn't leave a lot of brainpower left over for actually flying the airplane.

We went through basic multi-engine stuff, drag demonstrations, Vmc demonstrations, stalls and steep turns. Then we drilled on engine failures and identifying the failed engine, which turned out to be easier than I thought it would be.

The drill is simple enough: When an engine fails the airplane yaws like mad towards the dead engine, you stomp on the opposite rudder to correct the yaw, roll a bit in the same direction and bingo, you've identified the failed engine. One leg is hard at work keeping the airplane from yawing all over creation, the other leg is doing nothing at all, hence the memory aid “dead foot, dead engine.”

Of course, at the same time you're pitching down for the horizon to preserve airspeed, pushing the throttles, props and mixtures full forward, verifying the landing gear and flaps are up then pitching to maintain “blue line” or Vyse, the best single-engine rate of climb speed.

After that it's the classic “Identify, Verify, Feather” routine and after all that the airplane should be reasonably under control, at which point you start thinking about more mundane things like struggling to climb, turning back to some approximation of your intended heading, completing the secure engine checklist and finding someplace to land.

Since we were in the simulator, a fair amount of this took place solely by reference to the instruments, which meant my scan got a real workout on top of everything else I was trying to absorb.

All in all it went reasonably well and I didn't crash the sim.

Every takeoff, even in the simulator was a bit tense since I was spring-loaded to pull the throttles back to idle and land/crash straight ahead in case an engine failed during the takeoff run, which it did most of the time.

By the end of our first session I could say a reasonable takeoff briefing out loud, identify the failed engine, abort or identify, verify and feather.

But just because I could parrot “This will be a normal takeoff. We will abort straight ahead for anything unusual during the takeoff run and for an engine failure while the landing gear is down either on the runway or airborne. If we lose an engine after gear up I will pitch for the horizon, Full, Clean, Blue then Identify, Verify and Feather then return to the airport to land. We will rotate at Vmc + 5 knots, climb at 100 knots until 1,000 feet then cruise climb after that” didn't quite mean I understood what I was saying.

Day two in the sim was a little more comfortable. We did some ground discussing aerodynamics and procedures then hopped back into the box.

The weather was lousy, like it always is in the simulator, and Linda ran me through slow flight, ATP stalls, a single-engine ILS, a few engine failures (on the takeoff roll, airborne with gear still down and airborne with gear up.)

The ATP stalls were a hoot. The drill is basically to slow the airplane until the first indication of a stall then recover. Simple enough, but the target standards are +/- 0 feet and +/- 0 degrees of heading variation. In other words, don't lose or gain any altitude or deviate from your heading.

My scan was rusty, so the first few were a bit rough and I could only manage to stay within about 60 feet. The next was almost perfect and I held altitude to within a few feet. The only problem was I was fixating on the altimeter and didn't notice that my heading had varied by about 30 degrees.

Ok, so I need more practice on ATP stalls. They are good fun though.

The single-engine ILS was a bit of a hoot. I'd captured the localizer just fine, set approach flaps and power and lowered the gear at glideslope intercept and was looking good when the airplane suddenly yawed left.

I stomped on the rudder then sat there trying to figure out what to do as I started losing altitude and airspeed while my brain tried to process my options.

Finally Linda spoke up and said “What happened to pitch for the horizon, full, clean blue?”

Oh, sure. For some reason I thought once the gear and flaps were down I should leave them that way. It was obvious that wasn't working but I was flat out of other ideas.

I got the airplane back under control, re-intercepted the localizer and glideslope and after some thrashing around got everything nailed down well enough that at minimums I decided to try an ATP maneuver and fly the glideslope down until it was unusable. It worked out well enough and I managed my first single-engine ILS without crashing.

We'll be back in the box for some more sessions next week then move on to an airplane.

It's turning out to be great fun and a heck of a challenge. It's yet another reminder that no matter how long you fly you're really just always a student pilot.