Just a quick update and a lot of numbers for you... after six months, 650 taught hours and many more of private study, about 8000 pages of text book and no less than 39 exams it's all over. The final seven CAA exam papers are complete and all that remains now is a tense wait for the results.
Personally there is only one exam that I have concerns about - Aircraft Performance - as it was the least predictable, included a lot of difficult multi-mark questions and the time available was extremely limited. Perhaps I was having a bad day, but I don't feel that I was able to focus properly and may not have scored well on that one. Only time will tell.
We have just one more week of study in the UK, covering flight safety issues and starting some of the work towards the foundation degree in airline management that is included in our course.
After that, a generous break then we will be jetting off to Arizona to finally get our hands on some aeroplanes.
One more number - 6600 - the number of people who have read this blog. I am genuinely surprised and flattered that it has generated this much interest, and I hope you will keep reading as we progress on to the much more interesting part of our training. Thanks!
Sunday, 12 May 2013
Friday, 26 April 2013
Ground school complete
Firstly congratulations to all the lucky candidates that have been accepted on the second round of the Future Pilot Programme! I look forward to meeting you all. More selfishly, I have to say it is a great comfort for those in the first round to know that British Airways expect to have openings not only for us lot, but shortly after for another 76 cadets as well.
This week marks a major milestone - the end of ground school. Six months of hard graft have come to an end, and all that remains is to pass the final exams.
Having just done a 'dry run' in the form of the school finals, there should be no gremlins lurking. We just need to keep up with the revision and not forget anything in the next week and a half.
Tradition dictates fancy dress on the last day, and our class did not disappoint, with a full complement of revealing, embarrassing yet thankfully anonymous morph suits.
And a full dance routine to match, to the tune of "Call on me" and inflicted on several innocent unsuspecting classes. The instructors seemed impressed, but one commented that it was not as good as the real video (I'll let you Google that yourselves).
Anyway here is the boring official photo of the class (on a very windy day):
And here is the unofficial but much more fun version.
Various problems have caused a delay to the start of our fair weather flight training in the USA, but on the bright side I do have a month of English summer to enjoy post-exams (no irony intended) and I will be taking the opportunity to brush up on my flying in my aged but charismatic glider as well as saving some pennies for the USA.
Until next time!
This week marks a major milestone - the end of ground school. Six months of hard graft have come to an end, and all that remains is to pass the final exams.
Having just done a 'dry run' in the form of the school finals, there should be no gremlins lurking. We just need to keep up with the revision and not forget anything in the next week and a half.
Tradition dictates fancy dress on the last day, and our class did not disappoint, with a full complement of revealing, embarrassing yet thankfully anonymous morph suits.
And a full dance routine to match, to the tune of "Call on me" and inflicted on several innocent unsuspecting classes. The instructors seemed impressed, but one commented that it was not as good as the real video (I'll let you Google that yourselves).
Anyway here is the boring official photo of the class (on a very windy day):
And here is the unofficial but much more fun version.
Various problems have caused a delay to the start of our fair weather flight training in the USA, but on the bright side I do have a month of English summer to enjoy post-exams (no irony intended) and I will be taking the opportunity to brush up on my flying in my aged but charismatic glider as well as saving some pennies for the USA.
 |
| Photo: Steve Thomson |
Until next time!
Monday, 1 April 2013
Sitting up the front
When I last wrote, just a few weeks ago we were enjoying a short break after our phase one finals. Now as I write now we have just completed the phase two mid-term tests. The pace is blistering.
The character of the phase two subjects are noticably different from the first. There are only two 'memory' subjects — air law and operational procedures — though these require mind-bending quantity of technical detail to be retained.
The remaining subjects are far more practical. We are looking at general navigation, a course that Marco Polo would find familiar, and radio navigation, its slightly more modern cousin.
Aircraft performance takes the principles of flight that we learned in phase one and applies it to practical situations such as take-off distances, climb rates and optimum altitudes. Flight planning is even more hands-on, being based largely around a massive set of technical graphs and tables that require a sharp eye and an sharper pencil.
Finally there is mass and balance, which is essentially about making sure the aeroplane is not too heavy to take off, and once it is flying will remain stable and controllable. If the term 'centre of gravity' means anything to you, that's pretty much the whole story.
There is a lot of common ground between the subjects, and overlap with phase one subjects, making the whole thing less daunting. Certainly it feels like we are on the home straight now.
That's enough boring stuff, now for the exciting bit. As part of our programme, we are invited to take a familiarisation flight — shadowing the crew of a short-haul flight from start to finish and sitting in the cockpit 'jumpseat' — the little fold-down chair behind the pilots' thrones.
I was fortunate enough to bag a place on a return flight from Heathrow to Milan — a route that not only promised plenty of time in the cockpit and amazing mountain views, but didn't even require getting up early.
First I met up with one of our liaison pilots who was to be the first officer on the flight — let's call him Sid. Sid was showing me around the very plush crew facilities in terminal 5 when we bumped into our captain for the day — let's call him Bob.
In large airlines it is rare for a flight crew to work together regularly, often they will not even have met before. This may seem strange, but has proven to be the safest way to operate. The pilots have only the standard company procedures and terminology in common and don't develop the shortcuts or shorthand that over-familiarity can foster.
The first task was to log in to the dispatch computers and print out all the documents needed for the flight. Currently these are done on paper, but will be moved to electronic versions accessed via ipads soon.
Included are the weather forecasts including the high level winds, details of the route and all the waypoints, notices about any airspace or other problems (notams), fuel calculations, mass and balance, any dangerous goods and more. We sat down with a coffee to review them together.
Most simply need to be checked over and approved by Bob (in aviation, the captain is responsible for everything). But there are judgement calls to be made; in our case an unusually high 130 knot tailwind was forecast and Bob elected to carry a little extra fuel over the calculated figure just in case it did not materialise.
The other thing that did not materialise was our plane, which had been held up in Amsterdam and was running late. We waited poised at the gate for its arrival, the crew keen to make up some of the lost time. Soon enough G-EUYN appeared, an shiny one-year-old Airbus A320.
We boarded as soon as we could (several people challenged me on the way, which was reassuring) and the pilots set about their tasks and checklists. Bob headed out to do the 'walkaround' — a quick check of the outside of the aircraft which is done before every flight, while Sid gave me the legally-required safety briefing. Apparently, the way to escape from the cockpit in an emergency is to jump out of the window while holding on to a sort of strap device which is supposed to lower you gently to the ground. Hmm.
This is a busy time in the flight deck — the pilots are programming the flight management computer with the route, fuel and payload information; talking to the ground controller; dealing with various visitors to the cockpit such as the fuelling guy, cabin crew and the cargo handlers. But it all went like clockwork and in no time we were being pushed back from the stand, starting engines and taxiing off to the runway.
As we queued on the taxiway, I watched one of the new A380s line up and take off. They are absolute monsters, some can seat 800 people. Perhaps not the prettiest aircraft ever designed, but an engineering marvel all the same.
Our turn came, and Sid taxiied onto the runway, lined up and opened the throttles. You can feel the awsome power of the jet engines as they wind up to full thrust, but it is oddly quiet up here and you feel quite detached from the maelstrom in the engines way behind you. I tried to follow the various calls made during the take off, but it does all happen very quickly. Sid lifted the nosewheel off the tarmac and in seconds were were climbing at an astonishing rate. Seconds after that, the auto pilot is engaged and the pilots watch critically as it executes the planned departure track perfectly.
Except for critical parts of the take off and landing, passenger jets are flown with reference to the flight instruments and not the outside world. Still I found it a bit of a shock when we vanished into a wall of cloud and could see precisely nothing. The clouds bumped us around for a few minutes before the jet climbed free from the English murk and into the bright sunshine above.
The undercast stayed with us most of the way, but thankfully gave way for some beautiful views of the Alps as we passed over. Although I know them well, I could not identify any of the peaks from this unique view point but it was stunning all the same. Mont Blanc was one of our waypoints, so we flew directly overhead the peak of Western Europe.
The powerful tailwind appeared as promised giving us ground speeds well over 600 mph, rapidly winning back the earlier delays. I watched what the pilots were doing and tried to ask intellegent questions, but kept talking over air traffic control on the radio. To be honest there was so much to take in I was happy to just watch and listen. After months of rather abstract study in the classroom, it was great to see it all happening right in front of me.
Top of descent point came along incredibly quickly, the engines rolled back and we started the gradual drift down. Milan is a quiet airport, and gave us a straight-in clearance, which means a constant slope is flown all the way from the cruise to the landing.
Helpfully, the clouds below petered out a few miles from the airport, and I could see the runway in the far far distance, already perfectly lined up and 'on glide' — two white and two red lights either side of the touchdown indicating we are already on the correct three degree slope.
British Airways have developed a way of sharing the workload between the pilots that I think is quite unusual and also very insightful. One pilot, not necessarily the captain will be nominated 'pilot flying' for a particular leg and will fly the take off and landing, and make any inputs required during the cruise. The other is 'pilot monitoring', and acts as a backup to spot any errors or problems, and deals with the radios. This is the normal practice.
However, with BA the pilot monitoring will fly the approach — this is the section from about 25 miles from the destination to 1000' above the runway. The idea is to keep both pilots involved and alert, and make them both 'stakeholders'. The pilot not flying has to be 'in the loop' in order to fly the approach properly. The pilot flying is certainly going to want the approach flown correctly and accurately, as they have to land from it.
So Bob flew the approach and handed over to Sid for the landing. This is one phase of flight that remains entirely manual and quite demanding. I watched him juggling the side stick, dealing with a little turbulence and cross wind, to bring us neatly on to the centre line for a good positive touchdown.
It's a common misconception that a super-smooth touchdown means a 'good' landing. This may be appropriate if you have a long and dry runway, but it is far more important to get the plane down onto the tarmac in the right place and get weight on the wheels as soon as possible. Until this happens, neither the brakes or the reverse thrust can be used.
Pilots will aim for a 'positive' touchdown with no 'float', especially if it is wet, about 1000' from the runway threshold. This puts them in the best position for getting rid of all that energy and getting the plane slowed down with plenty of room to spare.
As we rolled off the taxiway towards our gate, now just a few minutes behind schedule, there were no signs of life - they have a relaxed attitude to timekeeping here. With the help of an electronic gizmo on the terminal wall, Sid parked the beast inch-perfectly and shut down the engines.
Time to do it all again — paperwork, walkaround, checklists, computer programing and ATC — for the next leg. Bob and Sid calmly and efficiently got the job done for the flight back. They would fly two more legs after that as well. To me, with my brain already aching from information overload, that seemed like marathon. But for the crew, with all their training and experience, it's all in a day's work.
The character of the phase two subjects are noticably different from the first. There are only two 'memory' subjects — air law and operational procedures — though these require mind-bending quantity of technical detail to be retained.
The remaining subjects are far more practical. We are looking at general navigation, a course that Marco Polo would find familiar, and radio navigation, its slightly more modern cousin.
Aircraft performance takes the principles of flight that we learned in phase one and applies it to practical situations such as take-off distances, climb rates and optimum altitudes. Flight planning is even more hands-on, being based largely around a massive set of technical graphs and tables that require a sharp eye and an sharper pencil.
Finally there is mass and balance, which is essentially about making sure the aeroplane is not too heavy to take off, and once it is flying will remain stable and controllable. If the term 'centre of gravity' means anything to you, that's pretty much the whole story.
There is a lot of common ground between the subjects, and overlap with phase one subjects, making the whole thing less daunting. Certainly it feels like we are on the home straight now.
In the jump seat
That's enough boring stuff, now for the exciting bit. As part of our programme, we are invited to take a familiarisation flight — shadowing the crew of a short-haul flight from start to finish and sitting in the cockpit 'jumpseat' — the little fold-down chair behind the pilots' thrones.
I was fortunate enough to bag a place on a return flight from Heathrow to Milan — a route that not only promised plenty of time in the cockpit and amazing mountain views, but didn't even require getting up early.
First I met up with one of our liaison pilots who was to be the first officer on the flight — let's call him Sid. Sid was showing me around the very plush crew facilities in terminal 5 when we bumped into our captain for the day — let's call him Bob.
 |
| G-EUYN - our ride for the day (Photo Tony Woof) |
The first task was to log in to the dispatch computers and print out all the documents needed for the flight. Currently these are done on paper, but will be moved to electronic versions accessed via ipads soon.
Included are the weather forecasts including the high level winds, details of the route and all the waypoints, notices about any airspace or other problems (notams), fuel calculations, mass and balance, any dangerous goods and more. We sat down with a coffee to review them together.
Most simply need to be checked over and approved by Bob (in aviation, the captain is responsible for everything). But there are judgement calls to be made; in our case an unusually high 130 knot tailwind was forecast and Bob elected to carry a little extra fuel over the calculated figure just in case it did not materialise.
The other thing that did not materialise was our plane, which had been held up in Amsterdam and was running late. We waited poised at the gate for its arrival, the crew keen to make up some of the lost time. Soon enough G-EUYN appeared, an shiny one-year-old Airbus A320.
We boarded as soon as we could (several people challenged me on the way, which was reassuring) and the pilots set about their tasks and checklists. Bob headed out to do the 'walkaround' — a quick check of the outside of the aircraft which is done before every flight, while Sid gave me the legally-required safety briefing. Apparently, the way to escape from the cockpit in an emergency is to jump out of the window while holding on to a sort of strap device which is supposed to lower you gently to the ground. Hmm.
 |
| Cockpit of a typical A320 (actually judging by those seat covers this may be the deluxe version...) Much to my own amazement, I can now tell you what at least 90% of those knobs, levers and gauges is for. |
As we queued on the taxiway, I watched one of the new A380s line up and take off. They are absolute monsters, some can seat 800 people. Perhaps not the prettiest aircraft ever designed, but an engineering marvel all the same.
Our turn came, and Sid taxiied onto the runway, lined up and opened the throttles. You can feel the awsome power of the jet engines as they wind up to full thrust, but it is oddly quiet up here and you feel quite detached from the maelstrom in the engines way behind you. I tried to follow the various calls made during the take off, but it does all happen very quickly. Sid lifted the nosewheel off the tarmac and in seconds were were climbing at an astonishing rate. Seconds after that, the auto pilot is engaged and the pilots watch critically as it executes the planned departure track perfectly.
Except for critical parts of the take off and landing, passenger jets are flown with reference to the flight instruments and not the outside world. Still I found it a bit of a shock when we vanished into a wall of cloud and could see precisely nothing. The clouds bumped us around for a few minutes before the jet climbed free from the English murk and into the bright sunshine above.
 |
| Gorgeous views of the Alps are a perk of the job |
The undercast stayed with us most of the way, but thankfully gave way for some beautiful views of the Alps as we passed over. Although I know them well, I could not identify any of the peaks from this unique view point but it was stunning all the same. Mont Blanc was one of our waypoints, so we flew directly overhead the peak of Western Europe.
The powerful tailwind appeared as promised giving us ground speeds well over 600 mph, rapidly winning back the earlier delays. I watched what the pilots were doing and tried to ask intellegent questions, but kept talking over air traffic control on the radio. To be honest there was so much to take in I was happy to just watch and listen. After months of rather abstract study in the classroom, it was great to see it all happening right in front of me.
Top of descent point came along incredibly quickly, the engines rolled back and we started the gradual drift down. Milan is a quiet airport, and gave us a straight-in clearance, which means a constant slope is flown all the way from the cruise to the landing.
 |
| Milan Malpensa magically appears out of the valley murk |
Helpfully, the clouds below petered out a few miles from the airport, and I could see the runway in the far far distance, already perfectly lined up and 'on glide' — two white and two red lights either side of the touchdown indicating we are already on the correct three degree slope.
British Airways have developed a way of sharing the workload between the pilots that I think is quite unusual and also very insightful. One pilot, not necessarily the captain will be nominated 'pilot flying' for a particular leg and will fly the take off and landing, and make any inputs required during the cruise. The other is 'pilot monitoring', and acts as a backup to spot any errors or problems, and deals with the radios. This is the normal practice.
However, with BA the pilot monitoring will fly the approach — this is the section from about 25 miles from the destination to 1000' above the runway. The idea is to keep both pilots involved and alert, and make them both 'stakeholders'. The pilot not flying has to be 'in the loop' in order to fly the approach properly. The pilot flying is certainly going to want the approach flown correctly and accurately, as they have to land from it.
So Bob flew the approach and handed over to Sid for the landing. This is one phase of flight that remains entirely manual and quite demanding. I watched him juggling the side stick, dealing with a little turbulence and cross wind, to bring us neatly on to the centre line for a good positive touchdown.
 |
| Textbook stuff as you would expect from the Queen's finest |
It's a common misconception that a super-smooth touchdown means a 'good' landing. This may be appropriate if you have a long and dry runway, but it is far more important to get the plane down onto the tarmac in the right place and get weight on the wheels as soon as possible. Until this happens, neither the brakes or the reverse thrust can be used.
Pilots will aim for a 'positive' touchdown with no 'float', especially if it is wet, about 1000' from the runway threshold. This puts them in the best position for getting rid of all that energy and getting the plane slowed down with plenty of room to spare.
As we rolled off the taxiway towards our gate, now just a few minutes behind schedule, there were no signs of life - they have a relaxed attitude to timekeeping here. With the help of an electronic gizmo on the terminal wall, Sid parked the beast inch-perfectly and shut down the engines.
Time to do it all again — paperwork, walkaround, checklists, computer programing and ATC — for the next leg. Bob and Sid calmly and efficiently got the job done for the flight back. They would fly two more legs after that as well. To me, with my brain already aching from information overload, that seemed like marathon. But for the crew, with all their training and experience, it's all in a day's work.
Saturday, 23 February 2013
Flying in wave
At long last we have had our phase 1 exam results. From what I have heard so far, everyone in the class has passed which is great news, though I won't know for sure until Monday. I was very pleased with my own results, which were actually better than both the school finals and my expectations. Onward to phase 2...
I have two fun flying-related tales to tell you about today — my first experience gliding in wave and my familiarisation flight to Milan a few weeks ago. First the gliding.
Less obvious is that in the right conditions this rise and fall can continue and intensify downwind of the mountains. The effect can reach up many times the height of the hills themselves. Technically the air is in resonance, which is to say it is bouncing up and down a bit like a spring.
Wave can be a good or bad thing, depending on your perspective. When we have studied mountain wave in ground school, it is presented as a dangerous "avoid at all costs" hazard that can cause damaging turbulence, difficulties in controlling the plane and even make it difficult or impossible to climb away. True enough, it can.
But wave also means lots of rising air, and when that happens, glider pilots are never far away. Yes, believe it or not us crazy glider pilot in our tiny, floppy, engine-less planes actively seek out and fly in mountain wave conditions.
Incredible heights can be achieved this way, and impossible distances covered by the skilful pilot. The UK height record in wave is an amazing 38600' set at the Deeside Gliding Club in Aboyne, Aberdeenshire. This is the same sort of height as your passenger jet cruises.
In the Andes, the record is a mind boggling 50,671' (see the Perlan Project) and distances over 2000km have been covered in a single flight. They are now aiming for 90,000' in the world's first pressurised glider!
A lenticular cloud is a distinctively smooth, allegedly lentil-shaped cloud that is associated with the rising parts of mountain waves (see image above). They are strange in that they remain stationary in the sky despite the wind whistling through them — the cloud forms on the windward side and vanishes on the leeward.
I was, frankly, a bit nervous. I hadn't flown since October and there I was poised at the end of an laughably narrow runway about to deliberately aerotow up through potentially violent turbulence. Well, nothing ventured nothing gained!
The tow was certainly lively and both us and the tug plane were bounced around a fair bit, but it was no worse than a strong thermal day back home and I coped fine. Meanwhile, my instructor Mike in the back used his 50 years of gliding experience to direct the tug pilot to where he thought the lift would be.
Suddenly we hit the 'rotor' — and real turbulence. As we were both the sky it took all my concentration (and all of the control deflection) to keep rough station behind the madly bobbing tug plane. At the same time, I was supposed to be watching the vario (vertical speed indicator) to see when our usual climb rate of 4-6 knots rose to 8-10, indicating upward wave. And this was in gentle winds!
Just as suddenly the air went silky smooth and quiet, leaving just the vario beeping madly away to itself. I released the tow rope at 3300' and there we were, gently and serenely climbing at about 2 knots as if by magic.
I spent some time exploring the air to find the best lift and getting my bearings. Gradually I developed a pattern of S-turns that kept us in the lift, flying dead slow in the eerie quiet between turns. Before long we were over 8000' — smashing my previous PB of 6400' — and with incredible views of the Grampians and Lochnagar.
Gradually we became aware of another, independent wave system building above us, and tried to transition into it but didn't quite manage it. We explored up the Dee valley to Ballater too, but the wave formations were starting to break up and weaken. We heard on the radio that Mike had more customers and we had been flying for and hour and a half — which had flown by — and it was time to head back.
With 4000' to spare over the airfield, I persuaded Mike to let me use some of the height to do the upper air exercises that form part of every glider pilot's annual checks. I practised stalling straight and level, accelerated stalls and stalling out of a turn followed by some full spins and recoveries.
Spinning is another area where power pilots must think we are mad — to a power pilot a spin is a dangerous manoeuvre to be avoided at all costs. To a glider pilot, who spends a lot of time flying slowly in tight circles, an accidental spin is a real possibility and should therefore be practised regularly. They are also fun, in a strange kind of way. Yes, spinning round rapidly with the nose pointing straight down is very frightening, at first (this is what it looks like). But knowing the recovery technique and knowing that it really works is very satisfying.
I am accustomed to a 150m wide grass strip, so to me this silly little 4.5m ribbon of tarmac looked impossibly tiny. Fortunately there was only a little crosswind and I found it wasn't difficult after all. I rolled as far as I could, ending up a few metres short of the target line. Apparently the fine for this is one dram per foot to the club chairman, but as I was a visitor they let me off!
Well that was quite a day, and I think quite enough for one blog. My front-seat ride to Milan will have to wait until next time.
A big thank you to Mike and everyone at Aboyne for their time and making me feel so welcome. I will be back.
I have two fun flying-related tales to tell you about today — my first experience gliding in wave and my familiarisation flight to Milan a few weeks ago. First the gliding.
 |
| This is how the average power pilot sees wave - hazardous! |
What is wave?
Mountain wave is an atmospheric phenomenon caused basically by wind blowing across a large ridge or chain of mountains. Obviously enough, the hills force the air to rise as they pass over, and if it is stable it sinks again on the leeward side.Less obvious is that in the right conditions this rise and fall can continue and intensify downwind of the mountains. The effect can reach up many times the height of the hills themselves. Technically the air is in resonance, which is to say it is bouncing up and down a bit like a spring.
Wave can be a good or bad thing, depending on your perspective. When we have studied mountain wave in ground school, it is presented as a dangerous "avoid at all costs" hazard that can cause damaging turbulence, difficulties in controlling the plane and even make it difficult or impossible to climb away. True enough, it can.
 |
| This is how the average glider pilot sees wave - miraculous! |
Incredible heights can be achieved this way, and impossible distances covered by the skilful pilot. The UK height record in wave is an amazing 38600' set at the Deeside Gliding Club in Aboyne, Aberdeenshire. This is the same sort of height as your passenger jet cruises.
In the Andes, the record is a mind boggling 50,671' (see the Perlan Project) and distances over 2000km have been covered in a single flight. They are now aiming for 90,000' in the world's first pressurised glider!
So let's give it a try...
I finally got to try wave flying myself last week, at Aboyne. I was incredibly lucky with the weather, which was mild and sunny with a gentle north-westerly wind blowing. From the forecast, it looked like the wind was too gentle for much wave to form. But as we slowly got all the planes out of the hanger and inspected, got our briefings from the instructors and were ready to fly, a few weak lenticular clouds were starting to appear towards the north.A lenticular cloud is a distinctively smooth, allegedly lentil-shaped cloud that is associated with the rising parts of mountain waves (see image above). They are strange in that they remain stationary in the sky despite the wind whistling through them — the cloud forms on the windward side and vanishes on the leeward.
I was, frankly, a bit nervous. I hadn't flown since October and there I was poised at the end of an laughably narrow runway about to deliberately aerotow up through potentially violent turbulence. Well, nothing ventured nothing gained!
The tow was certainly lively and both us and the tug plane were bounced around a fair bit, but it was no worse than a strong thermal day back home and I coped fine. Meanwhile, my instructor Mike in the back used his 50 years of gliding experience to direct the tug pilot to where he thought the lift would be.
Suddenly we hit the 'rotor' — and real turbulence. As we were both the sky it took all my concentration (and all of the control deflection) to keep rough station behind the madly bobbing tug plane. At the same time, I was supposed to be watching the vario (vertical speed indicator) to see when our usual climb rate of 4-6 knots rose to 8-10, indicating upward wave. And this was in gentle winds!
Just as suddenly the air went silky smooth and quiet, leaving just the vario beeping madly away to itself. I released the tow rope at 3300' and there we were, gently and serenely climbing at about 2 knots as if by magic.
 | |
| Lenticular clouds lying in a wave pattern over the Grampians. As a 'flat-lands' glider pilot, I don't often get to look down on clouds! |
Gradually we became aware of another, independent wave system building above us, and tried to transition into it but didn't quite manage it. We explored up the Dee valley to Ballater too, but the wave formations were starting to break up and weaken. We heard on the radio that Mike had more customers and we had been flying for and hour and a half — which had flown by — and it was time to head back.
 |
| Lochnagar peeking out of the wave clouds |
Spinning is another area where power pilots must think we are mad — to a power pilot a spin is a dangerous manoeuvre to be avoided at all costs. To a glider pilot, who spends a lot of time flying slowly in tight circles, an accidental spin is a real possibility and should therefore be practised regularly. They are also fun, in a strange kind of way. Yes, spinning round rapidly with the nose pointing straight down is very frightening, at first (this is what it looks like). But knowing the recovery technique and knowing that it really works is very satisfying.
Down to earth
Every flight ends (one hopes) with a landing, and with a bit of prompting from Mike I executed a scruffy but effective circuit in the unfamiliar landscape and lined up with the long but ludicrously narrow south runway. My instructions were to land deep and roll right to the other end and — whatever happens — stay on the black stuff as the surrounding grass was very rough.I am accustomed to a 150m wide grass strip, so to me this silly little 4.5m ribbon of tarmac looked impossibly tiny. Fortunately there was only a little crosswind and I found it wasn't difficult after all. I rolled as far as I could, ending up a few metres short of the target line. Apparently the fine for this is one dram per foot to the club chairman, but as I was a visitor they let me off!
 |
| About to touch down on the titchy runway |
A big thank you to Mike and everyone at Aboyne for their time and making me feel so welcome. I will be back.
Thursday, 7 February 2013
Exams over II!
This is just a quick progress update...
We have just walked out of the last of our seven phase one written exams - it's all over!
Unfortunately due to some questionable planning on my part I can't head straight for the pub with the others as I have not one but two medicals to endure this afternoon; one for EASA (Europe official aviation bods) and one for the FAA (American equivalent).
Pilots often get stressed about medicals as their jobs and future rely on the outcome, but after a week like this I don't have any capacity to worry left.
The subjects we have been examined on were:
Just over half of ground school is now completed which is a good feeling, and also marks the start of a welcome two-week break.
I think they went pretty well, with only a handful of questions in each subject being unfamiliar or ambiguous. Being multiple choice exams, it's generally possible to have a good guess even if you are not certain by eliminating the incorrect answers; but you do need a bit of luck on your side.
Last week I was fortunate enough to experience a 'familiarisation flight' with a British Airways crew, flying to Milan and back in the cockpit 'jumpseat'. I will write up this fascinating trip very soon, but just now I am off to getdrunk poked and prodded by the aviation medical examiner.
Cheers!
We have just walked out of the last of our seven phase one written exams - it's all over!
Unfortunately due to some questionable planning on my part I can't head straight for the pub with the others as I have not one but two medicals to endure this afternoon; one for EASA (Europe official aviation bods) and one for the FAA (American equivalent).
Pilots often get stressed about medicals as their jobs and future rely on the outcome, but after a week like this I don't have any capacity to worry left.
The subjects we have been examined on were:
- Principles of Flight. This is essentially physics and aerodynamics with the focus on aspects that are important to piloting and safety
- Airframe systems and propulsion. This is a bit of 'dumping ground' of a subject including diverse material such as structures, electrics and engines, but the main bulk is understanding all the systems on a modern passenger jet. A big subject.
- Instrumentation starts with basic old fashioned pressure instruments and continues right up to the latest flight management computers and electronic displays and autoflight. It is a minefield of acronyms, most of which start with A and many of which actually stand for other acronyms...
- Meteorology another big subject that goes into surprising detail about local winds and climates as well as the bigger picture of how weather is generated, and how it affects aircraft.
- Human Performance looks at physiology and psychology and ask what lessons we can learn for better flying and flight safety.
- Finally VFR and IFR communications. This is radio technique and associated knowledge (VFR is flying when you can see where you are going, IFR is when you may not be able to).
Just over half of ground school is now completed which is a good feeling, and also marks the start of a welcome two-week break.
 |
| Some football player or other enduring a similar medical examination |
Last week I was fortunate enough to experience a 'familiarisation flight' with a British Airways crew, flying to Milan and back in the cockpit 'jumpseat'. I will write up this fascinating trip very soon, but just now I am off to get
Cheers!
Thursday, 24 January 2013
Gethomeitis
Hello everyone, sorry it's been a while but endless revision has been driving me round the bend and I haven't felt like I had much positive to say.
The phase one school finals are finally out the way and I managed a very respectable 97% average in the exams (thanks mainly to two very short, very easy comms papers). Perhaps once I have finally caught up on sleep and given my brain a rest I will be able to feel positive about that.
We now have a welcome week at home to prepare for the 'real' exams which start on 4th. The format and difficulty should be identical to the school finals so barring any nasty surprises I can't see me or any of my colleagues on the BA programme coming unstuck. We will then be more than half way through ground school and and after that... two weeks off! Happy days.
The subject of this post is gethomeitis (Get-Home-Itis). This is not as it sounds a painful disease of the big toe. It does not mean that I've been desperate to get home to my wife (though I have). It is a rather ugly aviation term meaning simply the tendency of pilots to want to complete the flight as planned and land at the destination no matter what.
Gethomeitis has been the cause of an awful lot of aviation accidents; not just gliders and private planes but airliners too. One study in France reckons that gethomeitis caused 42% of all fatal accidents to aircraft on visual flights between '91 and '96.
In 2001, a regional airliner Crossair 3597 crashed in Zurich killing 24 of the 28 people on board. The highly experienced Captain Lutz attempted to land in poor conditions on a runway that was not equipped with an instrument landing system, just as the airport was closing.
There is nothing intrinsically wrong with attempting an approach in touch-and-go conditions provided the correct procedures are followed. Lutz however put the plane into a fast, steep descent and — crucially — flew well below the minimum safe altitude for the approach without visual contact with the runway. He then claimed he could see the airport when he could not possibly have done and continued the approach. The relatively inexperienced first officer did not intervene, with the tragic result that the plane crashed into hills some miles short of the airport.
How could a highly trained and experienced airline captain to make a string of such poor judgements? To answer this, we need to look at some psychology.
It's quite fashionable among trainee pilots to treat the subject of Human Performance rather dismissively, and to be fair there is a lot of meaningless verbiage in the textbook. Or as my wife called it when helping me to revise, "mumbojumbo". She is a master of unintentional puns.
But buried in the management speak there are some gems, including this insight into human decision making (bear with me here).
It turns out that people are hopeless at assessing risk. Absolutely terrible. After all, would we spend £6 billion per year on gambling in UK if we weren't? Would we ever drink and drive? Would anyone smoke?
There are two major biases in the way people assess risk and benefits.
1. Given a choice between two positive outcomes, people will choose the one that is more certain. For example, if I offered you the choice of £10 cash now, no strings attached, or £100 in August 2014 "probably, if I remember", you'd no doubt take the tenner. I'm not known for my good memory, and it's very hard to turn down a dead-cert.
2. Given a choice between two negatives, people tend to avoid the more certain one. Gambling is the typical example; if you have lost money the temptation to up the stakes is incredibly strong, even though the chances of a big win are remote. When our outcomes are negative, suddenly we favour the long-shot.
And the closer we are to our goal, the more reluctant we are to give it up. There is even a name for this — the Concorde fallacy.
Despite endless problems, the British and French governments repeatedly ploughed incredible amounts of money into developing Concorde. Costs spiralled utterly out of control, but so much had already been invested that failure simply could not be countenanced. Eventually six times more than the original budget was spent. They did finally succeed in getting it into service, and it was an engineering marvel, but financially it was a disaster.
You've probably already realised that this phenomenon explains gethomeitis. In the position of Captain Lutz of Crossair flight 3597, you basically have two options:
1. Play it safe and divert to an alternative airport. This will really annoy the passengers, it will cost the company a lot of money in hotels, food, lost customers and another flight the next day, it will mess up all the rosters because the aircraft and crew are in the wrong place. In short, it is a pain in the arse for all concerned; a certain negative situation.
2. Continue and try to land in poor conditions. If successful, which is highly likely, none of the above will happen.
Of course there is the tiny risk of total disaster, but as we have seen people routinely underestimate this (or we probably wouldn't drive cars) and cling onto the much larger chances of avoiding the known problems of diverting.
Put this way, you can start to understand — though perhaps not forgive — his behaviour. On top of this, he apparently was right at the end of his maximum duty hours and therefore tired, and he wanted to go to his grand-daughter's birthday party the next day. These considerations should not be important but hey, we are all human.
So how can we avoid making similarly bad decisions, not just in flying, but in life generally?
The answer is to flip around the options to make them both positive. As we saw above, when options are positive, people tend to favour the dead-cert over the long-shot. We could rewrite Captain Lutz' options like this:
1. Avoid the certain inconvenience of diverting and all the associated hassle and costs by simply continuing on and hoping the landing goes well. Or
2. Avoid the slight possibility of total catastrophe, loss of the aircraft and multiple fatalities by diverting to a safer airport.
It's obvious, isn't it? Put that way, how could you not take the safe option?
Captain Lutz was probably going through his ground school training in about 1950, most likely in the military. I very much doubt that he had the benefit of modern psychology to assist his decision making. If he had, perhaps he would have looked at the situation differently, and him and 26 others would be alive today.
The modern airline pilot must continuously make decisions and judgement calls based on experience and knowledge, and despite their best efforts and training they are subject to the same human foibles as the rest of us. So this sort of knowledge is not incidental, it is absolutely central to the job. Human Performance is a compulsory part of our training for a reason — it may turn out to be the most important subject we will ever study.
The phase one school finals are finally out the way and I managed a very respectable 97% average in the exams (thanks mainly to two very short, very easy comms papers). Perhaps once I have finally caught up on sleep and given my brain a rest I will be able to feel positive about that.
We now have a welcome week at home to prepare for the 'real' exams which start on 4th. The format and difficulty should be identical to the school finals so barring any nasty surprises I can't see me or any of my colleagues on the BA programme coming unstuck. We will then be more than half way through ground school and and after that... two weeks off! Happy days.
The subject of this post is gethomeitis (Get-Home-Itis). This is not as it sounds a painful disease of the big toe. It does not mean that I've been desperate to get home to my wife (though I have). It is a rather ugly aviation term meaning simply the tendency of pilots to want to complete the flight as planned and land at the destination no matter what.
 |
| Gethomeitis? In gliding, a low approach over unlandable terrain might get you home, but would a landing in a field five miles back have been the safer option? |
In 2001, a regional airliner Crossair 3597 crashed in Zurich killing 24 of the 28 people on board. The highly experienced Captain Lutz attempted to land in poor conditions on a runway that was not equipped with an instrument landing system, just as the airport was closing.
There is nothing intrinsically wrong with attempting an approach in touch-and-go conditions provided the correct procedures are followed. Lutz however put the plane into a fast, steep descent and — crucially — flew well below the minimum safe altitude for the approach without visual contact with the runway. He then claimed he could see the airport when he could not possibly have done and continued the approach. The relatively inexperienced first officer did not intervene, with the tragic result that the plane crashed into hills some miles short of the airport.
How could a highly trained and experienced airline captain to make a string of such poor judgements? To answer this, we need to look at some psychology.
It's quite fashionable among trainee pilots to treat the subject of Human Performance rather dismissively, and to be fair there is a lot of meaningless verbiage in the textbook. Or as my wife called it when helping me to revise, "mumbojumbo". She is a master of unintentional puns.
But buried in the management speak there are some gems, including this insight into human decision making (bear with me here).
It turns out that people are hopeless at assessing risk. Absolutely terrible. After all, would we spend £6 billion per year on gambling in UK if we weren't? Would we ever drink and drive? Would anyone smoke?
There are two major biases in the way people assess risk and benefits.
1. Given a choice between two positive outcomes, people will choose the one that is more certain. For example, if I offered you the choice of £10 cash now, no strings attached, or £100 in August 2014 "probably, if I remember", you'd no doubt take the tenner. I'm not known for my good memory, and it's very hard to turn down a dead-cert.
2. Given a choice between two negatives, people tend to avoid the more certain one. Gambling is the typical example; if you have lost money the temptation to up the stakes is incredibly strong, even though the chances of a big win are remote. When our outcomes are negative, suddenly we favour the long-shot.
Despite endless problems, the British and French governments repeatedly ploughed incredible amounts of money into developing Concorde. Costs spiralled utterly out of control, but so much had already been invested that failure simply could not be countenanced. Eventually six times more than the original budget was spent. They did finally succeed in getting it into service, and it was an engineering marvel, but financially it was a disaster.
You've probably already realised that this phenomenon explains gethomeitis. In the position of Captain Lutz of Crossair flight 3597, you basically have two options:
1. Play it safe and divert to an alternative airport. This will really annoy the passengers, it will cost the company a lot of money in hotels, food, lost customers and another flight the next day, it will mess up all the rosters because the aircraft and crew are in the wrong place. In short, it is a pain in the arse for all concerned; a certain negative situation.
2. Continue and try to land in poor conditions. If successful, which is highly likely, none of the above will happen.
Of course there is the tiny risk of total disaster, but as we have seen people routinely underestimate this (or we probably wouldn't drive cars) and cling onto the much larger chances of avoiding the known problems of diverting.
Put this way, you can start to understand — though perhaps not forgive — his behaviour. On top of this, he apparently was right at the end of his maximum duty hours and therefore tired, and he wanted to go to his grand-daughter's birthday party the next day. These considerations should not be important but hey, we are all human.
So how can we avoid making similarly bad decisions, not just in flying, but in life generally?
The answer is to flip around the options to make them both positive. As we saw above, when options are positive, people tend to favour the dead-cert over the long-shot. We could rewrite Captain Lutz' options like this:
1. Avoid the certain inconvenience of diverting and all the associated hassle and costs by simply continuing on and hoping the landing goes well. Or
2. Avoid the slight possibility of total catastrophe, loss of the aircraft and multiple fatalities by diverting to a safer airport.
It's obvious, isn't it? Put that way, how could you not take the safe option?
Captain Lutz was probably going through his ground school training in about 1950, most likely in the military. I very much doubt that he had the benefit of modern psychology to assist his decision making. If he had, perhaps he would have looked at the situation differently, and him and 26 others would be alive today.
The modern airline pilot must continuously make decisions and judgement calls based on experience and knowledge, and despite their best efforts and training they are subject to the same human foibles as the rest of us. So this sort of knowledge is not incidental, it is absolutely central to the job. Human Performance is a compulsory part of our training for a reason — it may turn out to be the most important subject we will ever study.
Thursday, 3 January 2013
What is the dog there for?
Hello and happy new year to everyone!
After an all-too-short break we are back at school with a bump, racing to fit in the remaining phase one material before exams start on 21st January. One of the subject we are working on is autoflight.
I'm sure it is no surprise to anyone reading this that passenger jets are flown, most of the time, by autopilots and not by the pilots pulling on control columns and shoving on pedals like you see in the movies. In fact, many jets do not even have control columns, but that's another story.
What you may not know is just how far this automation has gone. Our instructors enjoy winding us up about being button-pushers or sys-admins rather than real pilots, or about how little work we will actually do, or how boring the job is. This is partly because most of our instructors are frustrated ex-flight engineers who were made redundant by increasing automation on the flight deck.
The flight engineers are not the only ones to be consigned to history, the navigators and the second officers have gone too, all replaced by computers and sophisticated control systems.
Just the two pilots remain — but for how long? Are single pilot or even pilot-less cockpits the future? To answer this we need to look at what the automatics can and cannot do.
It is computers that have made the high degree of automation we see today possible. Large planes are stuffed full of them. They have been responsible for a huge increase in safety, reliability and efficiency of operation.
There are computers running laser gyroscope-based inertial reference systems and computers that analyse the data from the probes and sensors outside the aircraft and still more computers communicating with radio navigations systems. These all feed into computers that work out the statistically most likely position of the aircraft and feed this information into many other sources.
The main ones are the flight management computers that provide navigation both laterally and vertically, flight director computers that indicate to the pilot the most efficient way to fly this course, and of course autopilot and autothrottle computers that mean they do not have to.
When a control is actually moved, it may no longer be connected to anything physical. Instead it produces an electrical signal to, you guessed it, a computer that decides exactly how far and fast the control should move, and prevents the pilot or autopilot doing any manoeuvre that could overstress the aircraft. Other computers prevent stalling via stick shakers and pushers and even simulate the 'feel' of old fashioned mechanical controls.
Information on the aircraft's attitude, speed, altitude, vertical speed, heading and so on is displayed on a computerised readout called a Attitude Director Indicator, and another computer-controlled display called a Horizontal Situation Indicator gives navigation information, weather radar and so on (see picture). Between the pilots, a further pair of displays (fed by various computers) give information on engine performance and aircraft systems together with any warnings.
Still more computers contribute to safety by providing ground proximity warnings and traffic avoidance, fault warning systems, voice and data recorders and devices to allow the aircraft's position, height and identity to be constantly sent to other aircraft and controllers via radar and data link systems (you can see this information live on websites such as FlightRadar24.com)
Some of the most advanced computers are control and monitor the engines. With dozens of sensors they will spot impending problems before they become serious, and both the airline and the engine manufacturer will know about it before the plane even lands.
These are just the main computer systems that I can recall right now, there are more. Braking computers. Weather radar computers. Pressurisation controllers. I could go on.
All of the vital ones will be at least duplicated. In total there will typically be several hundred separate computers whirring away on a current passenger jet. This is not perhaps the most elegant way to organise things, and party explains why a new Airbus A380 will set you back around $403 millon. I'm sure that as the designs evolve the systems will become more and more integrated.
Put simply, the computers can do almost all of the flying. They can do it more safely, comfortably and accurately than the human pilots 99% of the time, and with less fuel used.
A few pieces of key data and the route to fly (usually simply a company route number) are entered into the flight management computers before takeoff, and once airbourne the systems will be switched on and will often fly the entire journey. With some help, many can even land the plane.
When there is a change of plan, air traffic control will contact the pilots with a new flight level or waypoint for example, and the pilots have to check and tap this information into the flight management computer. The information is often sent electronically via a data link, so it's not hard to imagine closing the loop and depriving the pilots of this small task too.
Currently, I don't know of any autopilot in use that can take off, so this still remains an important job for the pilots. The take-off is not a difficult manoeuvre, but if things go wrong a quick decision of whether to abort or continue is essential to avoid either running out of tarmac or trying to launch an unflyable plane. Even so, auto take-off cannot be far away.
So as it stands, the pilots take-off and land, and the rest of time the computers fly. The flight crew programs and monitors the systems and handles the communications — and of course they are in command not the machines — but it is the computers actually flying the plane.
So what are the two rather well paid guys in the smart uniforms really doing to earn their keep? The answer lies in that 0.1% of the time when things are not going to plan. The unexpected. The unpredicted. The unimaginable. This is where pilots must step in and do the one thing that computers cannot — make critical judgements in difficult or unforeseen situations.
Some of these judgements are fairly routine, for example the best way to cross a line of storms or a decision about where or when to divert based on what you expect the weather (and other traffic) to do. Others are completely unique, such as a medical emergency or lunatic passenger or (rarely) major equipment failure.
As our textbook puts it; "The ability of the pilot to evaluate evidence and come to conclusions will, in future, be the only reason for keeping him on the flight deck."
In other words, computers are stupid. They cannot, yet, operate outside of the conditions that the programmer intended and they cannot come up with create solutions to problems.
And the dog? What is the dog there for? Well, so the joke goes, we will soon be moving to a new flight crew; one pilot and a dog.
The pilot is there to feed the dog, and the dog is there to bite the pilot if he touches anything.
Let's hope not, at least not for a good while yet!
After an all-too-short break we are back at school with a bump, racing to fit in the remaining phase one material before exams start on 21st January. One of the subject we are working on is autoflight.
I'm sure it is no surprise to anyone reading this that passenger jets are flown, most of the time, by autopilots and not by the pilots pulling on control columns and shoving on pedals like you see in the movies. In fact, many jets do not even have control columns, but that's another story.
What you may not know is just how far this automation has gone. Our instructors enjoy winding us up about being button-pushers or sys-admins rather than real pilots, or about how little work we will actually do, or how boring the job is. This is partly because most of our instructors are frustrated ex-flight engineers who were made redundant by increasing automation on the flight deck.
The flight engineers are not the only ones to be consigned to history, the navigators and the second officers have gone too, all replaced by computers and sophisticated control systems.
Just the two pilots remain — but for how long? Are single pilot or even pilot-less cockpits the future? To answer this we need to look at what the automatics can and cannot do.
Computers everywhere
It is computers that have made the high degree of automation we see today possible. Large planes are stuffed full of them. They have been responsible for a huge increase in safety, reliability and efficiency of operation.
There are computers running laser gyroscope-based inertial reference systems and computers that analyse the data from the probes and sensors outside the aircraft and still more computers communicating with radio navigations systems. These all feed into computers that work out the statistically most likely position of the aircraft and feed this information into many other sources.
 |
| A horizontal situation indicator (navigation display) from an Airbus. Note the weather radar display (large blobs) and the purple line showing the planned route that the aircraft will take - with no help from you! |
When a control is actually moved, it may no longer be connected to anything physical. Instead it produces an electrical signal to, you guessed it, a computer that decides exactly how far and fast the control should move, and prevents the pilot or autopilot doing any manoeuvre that could overstress the aircraft. Other computers prevent stalling via stick shakers and pushers and even simulate the 'feel' of old fashioned mechanical controls.
Information on the aircraft's attitude, speed, altitude, vertical speed, heading and so on is displayed on a computerised readout called a Attitude Director Indicator, and another computer-controlled display called a Horizontal Situation Indicator gives navigation information, weather radar and so on (see picture). Between the pilots, a further pair of displays (fed by various computers) give information on engine performance and aircraft systems together with any warnings.
Still more computers contribute to safety by providing ground proximity warnings and traffic avoidance, fault warning systems, voice and data recorders and devices to allow the aircraft's position, height and identity to be constantly sent to other aircraft and controllers via radar and data link systems (you can see this information live on websites such as FlightRadar24.com)
 |
| The avionics bay of a Boeing 737 - where many of its computers live |
These are just the main computer systems that I can recall right now, there are more. Braking computers. Weather radar computers. Pressurisation controllers. I could go on.
All of the vital ones will be at least duplicated. In total there will typically be several hundred separate computers whirring away on a current passenger jet. This is not perhaps the most elegant way to organise things, and party explains why a new Airbus A380 will set you back around $403 millon. I'm sure that as the designs evolve the systems will become more and more integrated.
What they can do
Put simply, the computers can do almost all of the flying. They can do it more safely, comfortably and accurately than the human pilots 99% of the time, and with less fuel used.
A few pieces of key data and the route to fly (usually simply a company route number) are entered into the flight management computers before takeoff, and once airbourne the systems will be switched on and will often fly the entire journey. With some help, many can even land the plane.
When there is a change of plan, air traffic control will contact the pilots with a new flight level or waypoint for example, and the pilots have to check and tap this information into the flight management computer. The information is often sent electronically via a data link, so it's not hard to imagine closing the loop and depriving the pilots of this small task too.
What they can't do
Most landings are still flown manually despite autoland often being available, and this is a skillful and workload-intensive task. The computers do help out enormously by guiding the pilots on the correct glide slope and approach path and warning of various errors or deviations but ultimately the pilots usually land the aeroplane.Currently, I don't know of any autopilot in use that can take off, so this still remains an important job for the pilots. The take-off is not a difficult manoeuvre, but if things go wrong a quick decision of whether to abort or continue is essential to avoid either running out of tarmac or trying to launch an unflyable plane. Even so, auto take-off cannot be far away.
So as it stands, the pilots take-off and land, and the rest of time the computers fly. The flight crew programs and monitors the systems and handles the communications — and of course they are in command not the machines — but it is the computers actually flying the plane.
So what are the two rather well paid guys in the smart uniforms really doing to earn their keep? The answer lies in that 0.1% of the time when things are not going to plan. The unexpected. The unpredicted. The unimaginable. This is where pilots must step in and do the one thing that computers cannot — make critical judgements in difficult or unforeseen situations.
Some of these judgements are fairly routine, for example the best way to cross a line of storms or a decision about where or when to divert based on what you expect the weather (and other traffic) to do. Others are completely unique, such as a medical emergency or lunatic passenger or (rarely) major equipment failure.
As our textbook puts it; "The ability of the pilot to evaluate evidence and come to conclusions will, in future, be the only reason for keeping him on the flight deck."
In other words, computers are stupid. They cannot, yet, operate outside of the conditions that the programmer intended and they cannot come up with create solutions to problems.
What about the dog?
And the dog? What is the dog there for? Well, so the joke goes, we will soon be moving to a new flight crew; one pilot and a dog.
The pilot is there to feed the dog, and the dog is there to bite the pilot if he touches anything.
Let's hope not, at least not for a good while yet!
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