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Confessions of a New Corporate Pilot
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In the Citation III Confessions of a New Corporate Pilot
Life would be sweet, I thought, now that I’d successfully passed my Cessna Citation III (CE-650) type rating check ride (this was a few years back). It meant I’d be flying my first swept-wing jet. Surprisingly, my first day at the new job at Chicago Executive Airport (PWK) would also be the first time I’d been up close to a real Citation III since all the training and even my check ride happened in FlightSafety’s full-motion simulator.
From my research, though, I knew the 650’s cabin was roomy enough for eight, and its rocket-like performance was nothing short of spectacular with a VMO (maximum operating Mach) of Mach 0.85 and 39,000 feet on a standard day. In its day, M.83 was pretty fast. That meant we could make the West Coast out of PWK with four people in the back. I learned quickly, too, that the 650’s awesome performance meant I needed to stay much farther ahead of the airplane than I’d had to in the much slower Citation II (CE-550) I’d been flying in a 12-pilot charter department.
A privately held corporation owned this Citation III and I was the junior of three pilots. The chief pilot, my new boss, brought experience from several other flight departments, while the other pilot, I’ll call him Tom well, I was never really too sure where Tom had come from because the guy kept to himself as much as possible and wasn’t the chatty type. That made three-hour flights long when the entire conversation at FL390 ended with an occasional shrug of the shoulders.
But who cared what one guy acted like, I thought. I was there to learn how to fit into a flight department that needed another pilot on their team. Just like in charter flying, my job was to keep the people in the back happy. I came to know these passengers much better than we ever did in the charter world. These folks sometimes invited the flight crew to their home on Nantucket when we overnighted there.
The Interview
Looking back on this job now though, I guess the 10-minute interview the chief pilot and I engaged in before he offered me the job should have been a tip-off that maybe something was a little odd. But with a four-year-old daughter growing up at home, the chance to dump my charter department pager that always seemed to ring at 2 a.m. beckoned hypnotically.
Cessna Citation CE-650 Corporate line training began right away with me flying in all kinds of weather, where I regularly rotated flying left seat with the chief pilot and Tom. Having flown left seat on the Citation II, I wasn’t brand new to jets, just speedy ones.
After a few months, however, I began to notice a few operational oddities that started making me a little uncomfortable. Some sketchy flight planning and questions I asked were sometimes answered with annoyed expressions. If I appeared not to agree, someone might ask if I’d finished all the Jepp revisions (In those days there were no electronic subscriptions. Updates were handled by hand). I found the best solution for getting along seemed to be to just shut up and fly the airplane. Ignoring those distractions did help me pay closer attention to the little things that made my flying the jet smoother.
Then again … On one flight back from Cincinnati (CVG), I was flying left-seat with the chief pilot in the right. I wanted to add fuel before we left since the Chicago weather was questionable, but the boss overruled me explaining, “We’re fat on fuel.”I didn’t say anything. As we approached PWK, the ATIS reported the weather had worsened, considerably. The Swiss cheese holes began to align when Chicago Approach dumped us early. We ended up burning more fuel than planned. I flew the ILS right down to minimums, but my scan uncomfortably included the fuel gauges every few seconds. After a safe landing, we taxied in with 700 pounds of Jet-A, not much for an airplane that burns 1,800 pounds an hour down low. What if we’d missed at Chicago Executive Airport and needed to run for Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport I wondered? We’d have arrived on fumes. The boss looked at me after we shut down. “Don’t tell me that whole thing bothered you. It all turned out fine, didn’t it?” (more…)
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Remembering Gordon Baxter: Bax Seat was a Flying Magazine Reader Favorite
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(Reposted by request)
Each time I stand near my desk, my eyes naturally focus on the framed cover of the August 1983 Flying magazine. Below it is page 100, the “I Learned About Flying from That” (ILAFFT), where my first column appeared. On it, the author of Bax Seat, scrawled in brown ink, “To my friend Rob Mark. His story, my push. Gordon Baxter, August 5, 1983.”
Many months before, Gordon Baxter had given me the Flying editor’s phone number. When I rang with my brief pitch, all I heard was “yes.” I suddenly had an assignment for my first column. That 1983 issue was the first, but not the last, time my name and stories appeared in the aviation industry’s iconic magazine. That same issue also ran a pilot report about the then-new Cessna Citation III, an aircraft I later added to my list of type ratings. Looking back, there were so many aspects of my aviation career that came to life around Bax and that August 1983 issue, not the least of which was that we became friends.
Gordon Baxter, Bax as he preferred folks call him, helped shape my career as an aviation journalist like no one before him and only a few people since. The author of 13 books, Bax’s own magazine writing career at Flying spanned 25 years. His monthly column, Bax Seat, focused on vivid descriptions of his adventures. It was known simply as “Bax Seat.” Did I mention he was also a long-time radio personality in Beaumont, Texas, another interest we shared.
A Bit of Bax’s Background
I first met Bax in the mid-1970s. He brought his show, his act, or whatever the heck he called his evening of storytelling, to the Stick and Rudder Flying Club at Waukegan Airport. I was a tower controller not far away at Palwaukee Airport. Having been an avid Flying reader since high school, I switched shifts with another controller so I wouldn’t miss the event. Bax captured the audience for over an hour with stories from his flying career and his columns that often alternately “em rollin’ in the aisles” with gut-wrenching laughter and an emotional Texas-guy style that also brought tears to many an eye. Another way to think of Bax’s storytelling night was like an evening of improv but all about flying and airplanes.
Born in Port Arthur, Texas, he learned to fly after World War II following his stint as a B-17 turret gunner. Bax was no professional pilot—just a guy with a private certificate, an instrument rating, and eventually his beloved Mooney. On the back cover of one of his books, appropriately titled Bax Seat, Flying’s Stephan Wilkinson said “Bax tries to pass himself off as a pilot, but don’t believe him. He never could fly worth a damn. But Gordon feels airplanes, loves and honors them in ways that the rest of us are ashamed to admit. And he’s certainly one of the few romantics who can express what he feels so perfectly.” I couldn’t have written that myself, but I, too, felt it.
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Making the Brazilian ATR-72 Spin
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Note: This story was corrected on August 10th at 10:23 am, thanks to the help of a sharp-eyed reader.
Making an ATR-72 Spin
I wasn’t in Brazil on Friday afternoon, but I saw the post on Twitter or X (or whatever you call it) showing a Brazil ATR-72, Voepass Airlines flight 2283, rotating in a spin as it plunged to the ground near Sao Paulo from its 17,000-foot cruising altitude. All 61 people aboard perished in the ensuing crash and fire. A timeline from FlightRadar 24 indicates that the fall only lasted about a minute, so the aircraft was clearly out of control. Industry research shows Loss of Control in Flight (LOCI) continues to be responsible for more fatalities worldwide than any other kind of aircraft accident.
The big question is why the crew lost control of this airplane. The ADS-B data from FlightRadar 24 does offer a couple of possible clues. The ATR’s speed declined during the descent rather than increased, which means the aircraft’s wing was probably stalled. The ATR’s airfoil had exceeded its critical angle of attack and lacked sufficient lift to remain airborne. Add to this the rotation observed, and the only answer is a spin.
Can a Large Airplane Spin?
The simple answer is yes. If you induce rotation to almost any aircraft while the wing is stalled, it can spin, even an aircraft as large as the ATR-72. By the way, the largest of the ATR models, the 600, weighs nearly 51,000 pounds.
Of course, investigators will ask why the ATR’s wing was stalled. It could have been related to a failed engine or ice on the wings or tailplane. (more…)
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How the FAA Let Remote Tower Technology Slip Right Through Its Fingers
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In June 2023, the FAA published a 167-page document outlining the agency’s desire to replace dozens of 40-year-old airport control towers with new environmentally friendly brick-and-mortar structures. These towers are, of course, where hundreds of air traffic controllers ply their trade … ensuring the aircraft within their local airspace are safely separated from each other during landing and takeoff.
The FAA’s report was part of President Biden’s Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act enacted on November 15, 2021. That bill set aside a whopping $25 billion spread across five years to cover the cost of replacing those aging towers. The agency said it considered a number of alternatives about how to spend that $5 billion each year, rather than on brick and mortar buildings.
One alternative addressed only briefly before rejecting it was a relatively new concept called a Remote Tower, originally created by Saab in Europe in partnership with the Virginia-based VSATSLab Inc. The European technology giant has been successfully running Remote Towers in place of the traditional buildings in Europe for almost 10 years. One of Saab’s more well-known Remote Tower sites is at London City Airport. London also plans to create a virtual backup ATC facility at London Heathrow, the busiest airport in Europe.
A remote tower and its associated technology replace the traditional 60-70 foot glass domed control tower building you might see at your local airport, but it doesn’t eliminate any human air traffic controllers or their roles in keeping aircraft separated.
Max Trescott photo Inside a Remote Tower Operation
In place of a normal control tower building, the airport erects a small steel tower or even an 8-inch diameter pole perhaps 20-40 feet high, similar to a radio or cell phone tower. Dozens of high-definition cameras are attached to the new Remote Tower’s structure, each aimed at an arrival or departure path, as well as various ramps around the airport.
Using HD cameras, controllers can zoom in on any given point within the camera’s range, say an aircraft on final approach. The only way to accomplish that in a control tower today is if the controller picks up a pair of binoculars. The HD cameras also offer infrared capabilities to allow for better-than-human visuals, especially during bad weather or at night.
The next step in constructing a remote tower is locating the control room where the video feeds will terminate. Instead of the round glass room perched atop a standard control tower, imagine a semi-circular room located at ground level. Inside that room, the walls are lined with 14, 55-inch high-definition video screens hung next to each other with the wider portion of the screen running top to bottom.
After connecting the video feeds, the compression technology manages to consolidate 360 degrees of viewing area into a 220-degree spread across the video screens. That creates essentially the same view of the entire airport that a controller would normally see out the windows of the tower cab without the need to move their head more than 220 degrees. Another Remote Tower benefit is that each aircraft within visual range can be tagged with that aircraft’s tail number, just as it might if the controller were looking at a radar screen. (more…)
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Earning Your Stripes in the Glamorous World of Corporate Flying
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I have many fond and a few not-so-fond memories of flying business jets in the corporate world. But then, everyone needs to begin somewhere. Rob Mark
A crusty old chief pilot once told me early in my jet flying career that, at times, I seemed a bit too eager to please, a little overly energetic to complete one task and move on to the next—as if fitting in at a flight department was somehow tied to completing as many tasks as possible in a single day. Not a person for wasting time, he said, “You still have a lot to learn.” But when the critique of my talents began with him calling me “an aviation pup,” it was tough to hold back a smile, so I didn’t try. The guy had a heart, after all.
Balancing the Load
One of the first things I learned on the Cessna Citation II, the first jet I flew, was how to load bags … lots and lots of bags. One afternoon six big fellows showed up for a hunting trip to Moultrie, Georgia. They knew the drill that I was still learning because they dropped everything near the rear cargo hatch underneath the left engine. I watched as duffle bags of all sizes and colors, guns, fishing poles, and Styrofoam coolers were piled incredibly high on top of each other. Forget figuring out the weight and balance for these hefty passengers, I thought, as the captain walked up to the pile. “Start loading so we can get out of here,” he said and headed to the cockpit to grab the clearance.
I surveyed the pile and thought, “How tough can this be? I’ve loaded station wagons before.”
A couple of duffle bags went in pretty easily, but then I grabbed one that must have weighed 100 pounds. Of course, this slowed me down some since it was a warm afternoon. I began sweating—a lot. One of the line guys took pity and walked over to help. The two of us barely got the big bag in. Maybe getting it out would be easier, I thought. I continued tossing the near-empty coolers—and then there were the guns. It was almost full in the back so I moved the guns up front to the nose compartment. That worked. I checked the latches both front and back, hopped in the cabin, and closed the door as the left seater quickly started the right and left engines.
Oh Right, the Firearms
“You checked that the guns were unloaded, didn’t you?” he asked. I just stared as he pulled the left throttle to cut off and shut down the engine. He looked at me like I was a complete idiot. “Get out there and check them.” Now, my life involvement with weapons was limited to a single day of M-16 training in the Air Force. I realized there had to be a way to keep from looking any more stupid to all these guys, so climbing out of the right seat, I asked who wanted to help me check the guns before takeoff. The biggest guy moved toward the door as I opened it. “You must be the new guy, eh?” How’d he know that?
Food bomb
On another trip, we carried a family that included three little kids to Orlando to visit Disney World. It was a smooth trip and the sky turned to night an hour after takeoff. The captain and I listened to the kids who sounded like they were having a good time, although every so often the captain would give another listen and then look at me, and shake his head.
“OK, what?” I said.
“Do you know who they are?” he asked (they were a prominent family from the North Shore of Chicago). I shook my head. “Just wait until we get to Orlando.”
Because the landing weather at Orlando Executive included drizzle, I hurried to shift the baggage out of the rear cargo bay into an SUV waiting for our passengers. They were gone moments later, without a word. By the time I returned to the cabin, the aircraft was already connected to the ground power unit to make it easier to light up the cabin.
I only managed to get my head in before I stopped dead in my tracks. It looked like someone had set off a food bomb in the cabin. Everywhere I looked I saw empty chip bags and candy wrappers. Pop cans were strewn across the floor, with a few more tossed on the seats. There were even empty soda cans in the lav. If I hadn’t known that the entire flight had been smooth, I’d have thought we’d flown through enough turbulence to empty every snack drawer on the airplane. The drawers were indeed empty, but those little three kids and two adults had messed up our airplane worse than any turbulence I’d ever flown through.
Of course, there wasn’t much we could do except start at opposite ends of the airplane, tossing the trash into plastic garbage bags—or so I thought. The captain stopped at one point and looked at me. “Any idea how we get ground chocolate out of a leather seat?” I just shook my head. I knew the NTSB couldn’t help us that night.
Lav service
Sometimes the training on a business jet just plain stinks. Like many light jets, the Citation II had a chemical toilet. If you think of it like a slightly upgraded aerial outhouse, we’d be on about the same wavelength. To me, of course, any airplane with a bathroom was pretty cool—until we were getting ready to head for the hotel one night and the captain asked, “Did you service the lav?” I’d never been trained on that option, I replied. He smiled. That’s the night I learned our Citation was equipped with an internally serviced lav bucket, and not one that a line truck could hook up to from the outside.
In English, that meant the pan that sits beneath the potty on the airplane must be removed by hand, a bit like sliding a broiler drawer out from beneath the oven at home. But the smell was worse—much worse. Just a few quick screws to loosen the box and out comes the pan. I quickly learned that the pan was nearly as wide as the cabin aisle itself. The trick, then, was not only knowing how to remove the stinkpot, turn around, and head down the aisle toward the front door. The real trick is to never, ever bump up against an armrest before you exit the cabin, because just so much as even the tiniest spill along the way meant both pilots might well be trying to clean the blue juice mess out of the carpet for hours.The only question I wanted an answer to before I eventually upgraded to the Hawker 800 was how the lav was serviced. Another pilot explained, “The ground service trucks hook up to the back of the airplane for that. Why do you ask?” I knew he’d never, ever flown as a Citation II co-pilot.
Robert P. Mark flew Hawkers and Citations as a corporate pilot and is now CEO of CommAvia, a media group serving aviation. He also publishes this blog, jetwhine.com.
And a big thanks to the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association and its AOPA Pilot/ Turbine for allowing us to reprint this story from their
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ASRS Callback Drone Challenge
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October kudos to the editors of NASA’s Aviation Safety Reporting System (ASRS) Callback for selecting atypical reports for their periodic “What Would You Have Done?” issue. In all the years I’ve been reading the selected scenarios to challenge and expand my aeronautical decision-making universe, this is the first time I’ve faced the unfamiliar regulatory and operational environment of a Part 107 unmanned aircraft system (UAS).In “Part 107—Night Stealth,” the drone PIC “observed…while on a photography session, another small UAS operating with no anti-collision lights during dawn. I had two anti-collision strobes…activated and operating continuously. I immediately evaded the area to avoid a collision, since the other PIC was flying erratically. I departed about 150 feet north, and the other PIC followed and continued to fly erratically below me.”
At first reading, an initial reaction would be to bring my drone home while avoiding the erratic wandering of the lightless drone. But this was my Part 91 brain thinking. How would a rudimentary understanding of Part 107 affect my decision? To find out, I found the August 2016 edition of FAA-G-8082-22, the 88-page Remote Pilot—Small Unmanned Aircraft Systems Study Guide and settled in for a quick read of the chapters that would, most likely, provide the information I needed.
Chapter 1: Applicable Regulations, surprised me. “Be familiar with 14 CFR part 107 and all parts referenced in part 107, as well as AC 107-2.” Given some time to think about it, getting links to the current links should not have surprised me. As they are in manned aircraft, the remote pilot in command is responsible for and is the final authority in the drone’s safe operation, and that the R-PIC complies with the requirements of Part 107, which I’m guessing that the rogue operator in the reported scenario was not doing.
Yup, according to §107.29, Operation at Night, the other operator was violating the regs. To fly at night, or during civil twilight, an appropriately trained and tested R-PIC can fly a drone with “lighted anti-collision lighting visible for at least 3 statute miles that has a flash rate sufficient to avoid a collision.” In addition, “The remote pilot in command may reduce the intensity of, but may not extinguish, the anti-collision lighting if he or she determines that, because of operating conditions, it would be in the interest of safety to do so.”§107.37, Operation Near Aircraft; Right-of-Way Rules, is straightforward. Drones must yield to all other flying machines, and “may not pass over, under, or ahead of it unless well clear.”
I didn’t expect the regs to provide any guidance on what to do when someone else is going rogue. Maybe I’ll find what I’m looking for in AC 107-2A, dated February 1, 2021. Section 5.11.2, Safety Risk Assessment, pointed me at Appendix A for “additional guidance on how to conduct an overall safety risk assessment.”
Section 5.13, Remaining Clear of Other Aircraft. Now we’re getting somewhere. “The remote PIC must be aware of other aircraft, persons, and property in the vicinity of the operating area, and maneuver the small unmanned aircraft to avoid collision.” This supports my first-glance decision to return to home base. Even if the other guy is flying rogue, “The remote PIC must take action to ensure other aircraft will not need to maneuver to avoid colliding with the small unmanned aircraft.”
Section 5.18, In-Flight Emergency, and Section 5.19, Careless or Reckless Operation, only recommended not participating in these operations, not what to do when someone else is. I did learn, however, that drone pilots face a wider realm of careless of reckless: “Because sUAS have additional operating considerations that are not present in manned aircraft operations, there may be additional activity that would be careless or reckless if conducted using an sUAS. For example, failure to consider weather conditions near structures, trees, or rolling terrain when operating in a densely populated area could be determined as careless or reckless operation.”
Off to Appendix A, Risk Assessment Tools, which presents decision-making and crew resource management examples. Nope. The closest example was a drone filming an accident scene when an EMS helo arrives and appropriates the drone’s landing site. The short solution is to avoid the helo and find an alternate landing site. This also seems to support my initial ASRS decision. I wonder what the reporting R-PIC did?The R-PIC did what I would have done, but he also took another step. The drone pilot “drove to find the PIC of the [other] UAS and asked if he was the operator…. He replied…he was. I then discussed with him if he was a Part 107 pilot. He replied he was…. [I] asked why he did not have anti-collision lights on and recommended he … use one during night or dawn operations. He stated he didn’t need to use anti-collision lights because he was flying under recreational/hobbyist flight rules. I informed him regardless he must have anti-collision lights on during dawn and night operations…to avoid an incident.” Given the locked and loaded American culture, I would not have done this. Scott Spangler, Editor
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FAA Introduces Voluntary Helo Bird Strike Safety Enhancements
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With autumn’s annual bird migrations underway, on October 3, the FAA issued a 4-page Special Airworthiness Information Bulletin 21-17 addressing Rotorcraft Bird Strike Protection and Mitigation. It also introduces the voluntary Rotorcraft Safety Promotion Concept (RSPC) that encourages the installation of safety enhancing designs, using specific safety equipment, and implementing operational procedures to mitigate the risks of helos having runs-ins with our feathered friends. Unlike fixed-wing aircraft that zip through densely populated avian territory, helos face increased bird strikes because they cruise in the lower reaches of the atmosphere, 3,500 feet and below, where 90% of snarge is created.The RSPC webpage links to a list of bird-strike compliant helos. There are nine of them: the Airbus H225, MBB-BK 117 C2, D2, and D3; the Leonardo AB139, AW139, AW169, and AW189; and the Sikorsky S-92A.
It is followed by the Illustration of Voluntary Bird Strike Options that take normal category Part 27 helos toward the bird strike requirements of Part 29 transport category rotorcraft. These enhancements include bird resistant polycarbonate windshields, bird deterring lights, audio, and high visibility main rotor blades, and flight manual limits that limit the indicated airspeed to 80 knots.
Other operational risk mitigation options include flight planning and in-flight decisions that avoid bird-rich environments, mindful that these areas and the avion populations wax and wane with the season. If encountering birds in flight, slowing down, if practical, should be the pilot’s first reaction. More than three-quarters of all helo bird strikes happen when flying faster than 80 knots.
Gaining altitude, if possible, is another operational mitigation option. The SAIB says the likelihood of a bird strike decreases 32% for every 1,000 feet gained from 500 feet above the ground. And helo pilots should know and remember that birds fly at higher altitudes at night than they do during daylight.
Rotary wing aviators should also know and remember that their last line of bird strike defense is wearing a good helmet with the visor firmly in place. And if you fly in a birch world, you might consider the face guard many military helo crews use. Collecting snarge for a wildlife strike is never a good time, especially if you are scraping it from the facial folds of any member of the helo’s crew. — Scott Spangler, Editor