Flying

People are fascinated by different things. Some folks wonder why a steel ship weighing thousands of tons, can float on water. Others, like me, are fascinated by how something weighing thousands of tons can lift gracefully off a runway and climb into the air.

Now, the "boat thing," for me, seems fairly simple. If the boat weighs less than the amount of water it displaces, it floats. If it weighs more, it sinks. This is related to Archimedes principle. See sidebar, right. It's cut and dried: it either floats or it sinks - and since water is very heavy (10 lbs/gallon) - it's easy to see why a boat can float, or why it does not have to take on much water before the float/sink equilibrium is compromised, and down she goes!

Flying is a whole different kettle of fish - or I should perhaps relate this to flight and say a whole different gaggle of geese! I decided this was so fascinating I went to the local airport - Toronto's Island Airport (now called City Center) - and signed up for flight lessons with the "Chinese Air Force" - Central Airways - owned back then by the Wong Brothers and affectionately so-named. It wasn't too long before I discovered that it wasn't a whole lot different than the boat thing. The shape of the wing - as air flows over it -  causes high pressure under the wing and lower pressure above the wing, collectively called "lift." If the amount of lift is equal to the weight of the airplane, it stays in level flight. If more, it climbs, and of course, if less, it descends.

These brief explanations, of course, are grossly oversimplified, but I have never lost the fascination and love of flying. I received my Private Pilot's License, despite getting lost during my flight test. Not lost, really. Just disoriented after the flight examiner caged the gyro on me during a couple of figure-eights and a steep turn. (You can't get lost flying near Toronto: just turn to heading 180° - due south - and you'll come to Lake Ontario).

But my real love lies with the big jets. In the pre-911 days, I had the privilege of riding on the flight deck on a number of flights, including take-off and landing. My most memorable was a British Airways Airbus 319 Cat 4 instrument landing from London Heathrow into the always-in-the-fog Milan Linate airport in Italy. (I love the British cockpit discipline)! We broke out of the soup at about 250' and in an instant were on the runway. From the time we left FL360 (36,000 feet) the pilot never touched the controls until the wheel trucks touched the runway! I chatted after landing with the Captain, and it turns out we both lived in Carlisle, England in the same time period.

Next to that incredible landing (aren't they all?) was a takeoff from Rome in an Alitalia 747-400 bound for Toronto. The First Officer (FO) was flying, with the captain riding shotgun on him. The FO looked like he was 18, but was more likely 28. The Captain was briefing the FO on the aborted takeoff procedure when the tower crackled over the radio ... "Alitalia 7-5-2 clear for takeoff runway 2-5, no delay - traffic on final." The FO advanced the thrust levers and four sleepy Rolls-Royce giants awakened - three or four seconds to spool-up each engines 60,000 lb. of thrust, get a bite on the air, and we were thundering down the runway. As is standard operating procedure (SOP) the PNF (see sidebar) called out the speed... "110 knots, 120, 130, 140, 150, V1, ... 162-rotate!" The FO hauled back on the control column and 750,000 pounds climbed gracefully into the air. The runway red zone was clearly visible from the jump seat just before the PF rotated. So much for V₁, I thought to myself! At 850 feet, the FO - never once taking his eyes off the airspeed indicator - called "Gear up?" - The PNF gave him a thumbs-up and the gear was retracted. The PNF set the autopilot, engaged it, and we settled in for the 20-or-so minute climb to our initial altitude of 32,000 feet.

Or closer to home, a Canadian Airlines (now, regrettably, Air Canada) flight in a Fokker F28 regional jet from Ottawa to Toronto on a cold, clear winter night. What a great view of Toronto as we approached from the north-east, passed the city and the airport and then turned to line up on final for runway 05R. I'll give up my cabin seat for the jump seat anytime at all!

Those were great flights, but they are nothing compared to the flight described in the Bible. Oh? Flying is mentioned in the Bible, you say? It sure is: turn to 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17 and read it for yourself. I'm going to be on that flight for sure, perhaps even on an earlier departure. Already got my ticket and presently on stand-by: read John 3:16-18.

Make your reservation today! You can't get to heaven without one! Read Ephesians 2:8-9. Go here to read these verses.

If you prefer rotary wing aircraft (for the uninitiated, that's a helicopter) then you'll appreciate these tidbits about these amazing machines and the people who fly them. Thanks to my son-in-law (a military chopper pilot) for bringing these to my attention.

• If everything is working fine on your helicopter, consider yourself temporarily lucky. Something is about to break.
• Helicopter flight: a bunch of spare parts flying in close formation.
• Remember, in a helicopter you have about 1 second to lower the collective in an engine failure. After this the ship become unrecoverable and flies about the same as a Coke machine. Even a perfectly executed autorotation only gives you a glide ratio slightly better than a falling refrigerator.
• When your wings are leading, lagging, flapping, precessing and moving faster than the fuselage, there's something unnatural going on.
• Harry Reasoner once wrote of helicopter pilots: "The thing is, helicopters are different from planes. An airplane by its nature wants to fly, and if not interfered with too strongly by unusual events or by an incompetent pilot, it will fly. A helicopter does not want to fly. It is maintained in the air by a variety of forces and controls working in opposition to each other, and if there is any disturbance in this delicate balance the helicopter stops flying, immediately and disastrously. There is no such thing as a gliding helicopter. That is why being a helicopter pilot is so different from being an airplane pilot, and why in general airplane pilots are open, clear-eyed, buoyant extroverts and helicopter pilots are brooding, introspective anticipators of trouble. They know if something bad has not happened, it is about to."
• You never want to experience a sinking feeling in your gut (a low-g pushover) while flying a two-bladed, under-slung, teetering rotor system. You are about to do a snap role to the right and crash.
• Every helicopter pilot must know how to simultaneously blow the door off his helicopter, disconnect the support systems from his flight suit, undo his safety harness, hold his breath for five minutes, orient himself so he knows which way is up, swim, pray, and remain calm, because if he has to ditch, his top-heavy machine will bounce once, flip over, and sink quickly.
• While hovering, if you start to sink a bit, you pull up on the collective while twisting the throttle, push with your left foot (more torque) and move the stick left (more translating tendency) to hold your spot. If you now need to stop rising, you do the opposite in that order. Sometimes in wind you do this many times each second. Don't you think that's a strange way to fly?
• A helicopter pilot never smiles, is always listening to the machine and always hears something that doesn't sound right. Helicopter pilots fly in a mode of intensity, actually more like "spring-loaded," while waiting for pieces of their ship to fall off.
• Anything that has to screw its way into the sky has to fly according to unnatural principles.

Enjoy your next helicopter flight!

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