Danger and Poetry

“In an environment where everything happens so fast and where mistakes can be fatal, survival ultimately depends on how the pilot chooses to direct and divide his attention. Because of the finite nature of attention, underestimating one’s proficiency at any given task can be just as dangerous as overestimating it. ”

It’s the start of December, and I think I’ve now read my favorite new flying book of the year: Danger and Poetry, by Joe Karam (2016, Los Angeles: Soaring West). It’s a short easy 130 pages about the author’s first hundred hours of flying, which were in gliders on the west coast of the US. I  ignored what are normally warning signs — odd title, self-published? this-is-my-learning-to-fly-story, no major reviews, poetry? — and was warmly welcomed into the cockpit and into a flying mind for a very enjoyable ride. 

“As I strode across the airfield in my leather jacket and clip-on sunglasses, the sky was clear and the wind was calm. What needed careful monitoring, however, was the weather inside my own head, still nebulous from a night of restless anticipation.”

It is somehow fresh yet timeless. This is what it feels like to learn to fly, and to soar in a glider. For glider pilots, this is our story! For powered pilots, this is a peek inside the magic world of flight with no motor. Covers practical matters as well as the expansion of perspective that mastery of flight gives us. Heart for poetry, mind for danger, he says. Talks of transcendence, and then gives us something concrete, like this:

“It isn’t safe. It’s an intense, high-concentration activity. It’s not something you can do casually or ever become complacent about, and it may never feel as second nature as driving a car. It’s an extreme sport, about as dangerous as riding motorcycles. You have to fly regularly to stay proficient. You have to be disciplined with your checklists. You have to remain alert and maintain situational awareness at all times. You need to know yourself and your limits, and know when to stay on the ground. If the weather conditions are beyond your skill level, you shouldn’t fly. If you’re not well-rested, well-hydrated and well-fed, you shouldn’t fly. If you’ve got worries on your mind, you shouldn’t fly.”

The San Jose area (aka ‘Silicon Valley’) has a very active general aviation scene thanks to lots of creative engineers with money. It’s cool to see. And turns out Joe is one of them. But this is much more than Google Guy Goes Gliding. Joe had a Jesuit education in Paris, and brings a smart sensitive language to the universal (well, for pilots) journey of learning to fly. There is the wisdom of the instructor (Charlie), the thrill of solo, the expanding envelope; but it is not a cliche.

“The finesse required at the controls took some time to adjust to and revealed a qualitatively different facet of the art of soaring, one that seemed accessible only to those pilots who could calm their mind and truly listen to what the glider was whispering into their ear. It was in that quasi-meditative state that Charlie and I continued climbing and progressing further west.”

I loved it! Highly recommended for all pilots, or pilots to be.



Note: I don’t know Joe, and Joe doesn’t know me. I wasn’t paid to post this, I don’t do that. I paid for my book. It’s on iBooks, and Amazon, and has its own Danger and Poetry website. And I don’t know why we are finding out about a 2016 book late in 2018!

Doing something uncomfortable

An aerobatic glider instructor I respect a lot counsels pilots wearing parachutes to do one tandem parachute ride. To eliminate a lot of unknowns. To be safer pilots. To experience the fall, the rush, the wind, the brain overload — so that if you ever need to bail out you will not freeze; rather you will orientate and have the headspace to pull the cord. All good sense.

Only I didn’t get to be 52 years old by jumping out of airplanes.

I’m scared of heights. Petrified really.

I’m busy.

Maybe next month. For sure next year. Maybe.

Well, I finally got serious and did it. Moved way outside my comfort zone to become a safer pilot, should something really bad ever happen. And it feels pretty good. Now that it’s finally done:

And yes, I kinda liked it. Certainly was a rush! 120 mph, no engine, no wing, no control. Sir Issac Newton in the driving seat:

Now, do you need a lot of training to do a tandem jump? I think this picture explains the concept quite well:

We jumped from 14,000 feet, south of Phoenix. After a minute of freefall, the ‘chute opened and my Russian-new-best-friend let me have the reins for a while. Cool to have some control again. To feel like I’m flying again:

And the landing? Well, we clearly nailed it!

I got a lot more than an adrenaline rush and Facebook bragging rights. If I have control failure, if I have a mid-air, I feel much better prepared to jump and pull. To live, to fly another day. The unknown, the uncertainty, has been reduced. That initial OH MY GOD I’M JUMPING INTO NOTHING NEVER DONE THIS OH MY GOD brain lock has been removed. I shouldn’t freeze up. I will be pilot in command. Even without a plane to command.

The real question is— what else, out of my comfort zone, should I have done a long time ago?

And so . . .  what are you putting off, that will make you a better pilot?

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(Many thanks to everybody at Skydive Phoenix for a great experience, and the cool air-to-air video. Not a paid placement, I don’t do that. Paid my money like everybody else. Did this last week, before President George H. W. Bush died. As a young combat pilot in the Pacific theatre, his life was saved by a parachute. He continued jumping for fun at major milestone birthdays. It is pretty dang neat.)

Aviation Human Factors — 1932 paper

Clicking around research rabbit holes, reading papers cited by other papers, looking for something else entirely, I came across something in one of the world’s premier medical journals, The Lancet: Preventive Medicine In Its Relation To Aviation, by E. Goodwin Rawlinson (full PDF). From nineteen thirty-two. Yes, 1932.

Lots of great quotes:

“It must always be an axiom that the pilot (apart from the machine) is the paramount factor of flying.”

For the design team, he observes:

“The maker of the machines, in his engineering enthusiasm, unconsciously adds to the pilot’s troubles by altering or adding controls, changing what has been an automatic reaction to an extraconscious action—a possible source of error in rapid judgement.”

Are you listening Boeing?

The 70% of accidents are human factors had already been discovered from accident data. And that’s considering late 1920’s aircraft! French figures show “over half are due to faulty airmanship (errors of judgement) and less that one-quarter to engine failure. American figures bear this out.” From British accident data for 1929, they found “70 per cent due to errors of judgement (faulty pilotage).” Sad that some books treat this like it’s a new idea.

“These figures emphasise very strongly the urgent necessity of considering no factor too trivial where the pilot is concerned.”

There’s more. Pilot’s flying time must be regulated. Rapid transmission of diseases around the world was seen to be a problem. Of course, not everything holds up well after ninty years. Turns out, the common cold is not cured by flight at high altitude.

But overall, many of the messages still hold true today. Which is why we keep researching ideas, and can never forget the paramount importance of pilots and airmanship in aviation safety.

 

Al quotes from Rawlinson, E. G. (1932). Preventive medicine in its relation to aviation. The Lancet, 9 Jan 1932, pages 111-114.