I'm on vacation at a lake in British Columbia, just as I threatened. The lake is
lovely, as is the town, the accommodations and the company, But I'm not saying who that was nor blogging about my vacation. I'm blogging about the fact that I have to leave this lovely lake and drive an hour or so to the airport, and renew my IFR. I find the school and check in with dispatch, where I do some paperwork.
They tell me my instructor's name. I've never met anyone with this name before. It's the same as the name of a plant, and it doesn't tell me anything about them, except that perhaps my instructor is the child of late-blooming hippies.
Oak (not the real name, but I'll use that to avoid excessive circumlocution) arrives and he is a he. He doesn't look like a hippy, is familiar with the information I gave the school on my experience and needs, and seems to know
what he's doing. He proposes we sim today, then fly tomorrow. He's concerned that the fact that I've never flown this airplane before might be a problem. I'm concerned that I have to take a flight test, and AAAAAHHHH! FLIGHT TEST! I'm not worried about flying a new airplane compared to that. Every time I have flown a new airplane, it's turned out to work like all the other ones I have flown. The only tricky bit is usually landing nicely. On an instrument ride if you get to the flare without screwing up too badly, you've passed. I know someone who had to have the instructor land the airplane for him on his initial IFR, because the
instructor had arrived late and postponed the flight test later into the dark, for a candidate who did not yet possess a night rating or any night landing experience. (And if he's reading this, please get in touch: both paper and e-mail is bouncing).
We go into the simulator room and start one
up. It's a typical flying school simulator with
a yoke and pedals and movable controls on a
dashboard, into which is set a simulated
instrument panel on a computer monitor,
connected to a console running some flavour of
flight simulator, possibly even the Microsoft
one. Once upon a time school simulators had
real gauges all the way across with little
motors running everything, but those are more
expensive to construct and maintain. Real airplanes are going towards glass now, so the simulated ones do too. The pilot seat is on rails bolted to the floor, and after
it has been adjusted to the comfort of the
pilot, it does not move in any way related to
the simulated movement of the airplane. The
whole things has been certified by Transport
Canada as conforming sufficiently to the
characteristics of whatever it simulates to be
used for certain types of flight training. As
this training is just to acclimatize me to the
local navaids and procedures and to assure the
poor flight instructor it's okay to fly with
me, its certification doesn't currently matter
anyway.
I start running through the instrument
checks. This is partly a simulation of how I
will test all the instruments on the flight
test to show that I am a good little pilot,
partly a test to make sure the simulator
is working properly, and partly a chance for me
to familiarize myself with the location and
operation of all the instruments. You know how
in your car you can put your finger on
any control pretty much without looking, but in
a rental you have to wait for a stoplight and
hunt around for it? Well same in an airplane.
In a simulator of this type some of the
switches tend to be rinky-dink little things
and not located in logical places, either.
"Where are the cowl flaps again?" All the installed
instruments are familiar ones to me, and I know
how to use them, but figuring out how to adjust
the rightmost digit of the ADF frequency can be
like trying to turn off the windshield wipers
on the rental car. Just when you think you have
killed them, they turn out to be set on
intermittent.
Above is a literal museum example of the
oldest kind of ADF I have used. I think anything older would require separate manual tuning of the sense antenna.
I think I may have ranted thusly about ADFs
before. Those of you who know or don't care
about the various ways one might set the
frequency on an ADF receiver can safely skip
the following two paragraphs with no loss to
the narrative. If you want to know what it's
actually for and what it does, not just how to
tune it, go
here.
An ADF can be set to either a three or four
digit frequency, that is between approximately
190 and 1750 kHz: the AM radio band. I believe
all the NDBs that the ADF has to receive are in
the three digit range, from 190 to 600 kHz, but
I speculate that ADF was designed to also
receive higher AM radio frequencies, so as to
use commercial radio stations for navigation.
Radio towers are published with their
frequencies on old charts and still better than
nothing in the middle of nowhere. The oldest
sort of ADF I have used has one big knob that
moves an indicator along a scale which you
carefully examine to see which frequency you
have selected, and then you listen really
carefully to the Morse identifier, because you
could easily be a few off. That sort is a
museum piece now, and pretty much was then, but
I doubt I was the last person in the world to
use one of those in IFR conditions. The next
oldest kind has three frequency adjustment
knobs, the way an analogue transponder has four
knobs to change the squawk code. The leftmost
knob changes its corresponding "digit" through
the range one to seventeen (or maybe fourteen,
I don't remember) and the other two change
their digits through the zero to nine range.
The more modern kind (although "modern" and
"ADF" don't go together well) has a digital
display and the knobs are more compact.
Typically there is one big knob with a smaller
knob in the centre. They correspond to the
three knobs on the older unit like this: the
big outside knob does the job of the leftmost
knob; the smaller inside knob does the job of
the middle one, and then you can pull
out the middle one and then when you turn
it, it does the job of the rightmost knob on
the old unit. You could be stuck for a long
time if you didn't know the pulling out
trick.
In simulators like this one, for some weird
reason, you don't get to pull out the inside
knob to set the frequency. I guess someone was
shown how it was supposed to work, didn't
realize that the person showing him had pulled
out the knob, so made up his own way, and
pilots are so used to ADFs working different
ways that they shrugged and considered it a
limitation of the device. So in the sim you
turn the outside or first knob to set the first
one or two digits, the 1-17 thing, then you
turn the second knob to set the second two
digits, from 00 to 99. Like that's not a
pain. You have to do this sometimes during a
missed approach, where one beacon is the missed
approach point and the missed approach required
you to track to a subsequent NDB, so you have
to scroll through up to 50 frequencies while
cleaning up the airplane in a simulated go around.
I dial in the frequency of the NDB nearest
my simulated airport so I can test the device.
It identifies and points, so I then try to tune
the first NDB I'll need during the flight. It's
at this point that I notice that as I adjust
the third digit, I'm only getting even numbers.
"How do I get odd numbers on this?" I ask Oak,
who is sufficiently confused by the question to
clue us into the fact that it's broken. We
switch to the other simulator and go through
testing everything again before flying.
The simulated ATIS unexpectedly (to me)
works, and I copy it, then address Oak as
"ground" for my clearance. He gives me the
Abbotsford Seven departure off runway 07, The
first seven means that there have been six
revisions to the procedure since it was first
published and the second seven means that the
runway is oriented such that the airplane will
be on a heading of 070 degrees magnetic as I
take off. The departure procedure is a number
of instructions, such as the fact that I'm
supposed to climb on runway heading to six
hundred feet then hang a right to 202 degrees
and wait for ATC to give me vectors on
course.
The procedures are not a problem, but I do
get caught up in getting every detail right,
and my altitude control is abysmal. That's not
abnormal for the sim. The trim is in the wrong
place and doesn't have the same feedback as in
an airplane. I make a few dumb mistakes but
demonstrate a basic knowledge of how to fly an
airplane, so tomorrow we are scheduled to fly
one.
I don't want to spend too much time in the simulator because it doesn't even try to simulate the airplane I will be flying, and you do gain habits to appease the simulator. This article suggests that because much better simulators that are used for airline pilot training do not do a good job of modelling aircraft behaviour as the airplane goes out of control, simulator training may be to blame for pilots responding incorrectly to emergency situations, causing some crashes, such as the Continental runway excursion in Denver and the Colgan Dash-8 stall in Buffalo.