THE VINTAGE INSTRUCTOR Go Around To flar e, or not to flar e? DOUG STEWART NAFI MASTER INSTRUCTOR
The storm had been intense, tracking up the stationary front along the East Coast, but now it was being chased out into the North Atlantic by a strong high that was building into New England. With the high pressure came blue skies that are normally saved for the desert southwest, and visibilities that are rarely matched here in Massachusetts, especially now, in the summer. But the isobars were jam-packed together, and the wind was howling. The winds were gusting more than 35 knots, coming across the runway at a 70- to 85-degree angle. It was not the kind of day to be landing here unless you had your crosswind landing techniques mastered. In the pattern, an instructor was teaching those techniques to a student. We prefer to teach a sideslip approach in crosswind conditions to fledgling students. That way they do not have to deal with the transition from a crab to a slip as they also try to figure out how and when to commence their flare. To add to the mix, a row of pine trees lines the approach to the north of the extended centerline of Runway 29—the runway in use this day. In the winter, in similar
weather conditions, one could easily see the way the wind was caused (I didn’t say cussed, although it often was) to rotor as it blew over these trees. The powder snow that had been dumped in the trees during the storm could be seen as it first blew up, and then rolled rapidly down, in the vortices that the trees created. But it was summer now, and if a pilot was not well versed in reading the terrain, it was easy to get lured into a low approach to the runway. To some pilots the 2,600 feet of runway seemed very short, and thus they could be fooled into trying a low approach in an attempt to “put it on the numbers.” This type of approach rarely worked because the lowlevel wind shear created severe turbulence on a low approach. The best approach in these conditions was a high slipping approach, with an aim point about 500 feet down the runway. This way a pilot could stay out of most of the turbulence, and although the slip could lead a pilot to think that the crosswind capabilities had been exceeded, it was rare that this would continue all the way to the runway. As an aircraft got
To add to the mix, a row of pine trees lines the approach to the north of the extended centerline of Runway 29—
past the trees and close to the ground, surface friction usually slowed the wind enough to allow a pilot to straighten things out and land without incident. Also coming from the west, along with the high pressure, was a small homebuilt hot rod. It was a tandem taildragger, with short stubby wings and large empennage and rudder. In the rear seat was the owner, who had yet to obtain his tailwheel endorsement, and thus had been along for the ride all the way from the West Coast. Sitting at the controls in front was the pilot in command. His tailwheel time had been grandfathered, as years ago he had flown as a commercial pilot in a Beech 18. But before flying this aircraft, he had never flown a small, single-engine, tailwheel airplane. It was also rare that he ever landed “three point,” usually “wheeling on” the twin Beech. They arrived just as the wind was at its peak. Making their downwind announcement over the UNICOM, the voice on the other end of the UNICOM warned them to be on their toes. Their approach was not too high, and not too low, but a little too fast. As they tried to bleed off speed the turbulence was bouncing them all over the place. They decided to go around. The second approach was higher, but this time too high, and it was obvious that a goaround would be needed again. The voice from the UNICOM operator admonished them yet again
to be careful. They knew that many eyes were on them. On their third approach they decided to come in low . . . and fast. Approach speed for this aircraft is about 80 knots. They were doing at least 100 knots. As they flew through the turbulence the little aircraft was bounced around like a cork in rapids. The plane floated and floated down the runway, bleeding off all the excessive speed. It finally touched down with less than 600 feet of runway remaining. It was still too fast. I know that a little extra speed is sometimes used in a wheel landing, but this was absurd. As the end of the runway loomed, the plane drifted off the right side of the runway, tail still up in a level attitude. If braking had been poor on the pavement, it was going to be worse in the gravel the wheels were now on. The runway ends in a steep drop-off of about 20 feet. To the right of the runway, at the top of the drop-off, were two poplar trees. One of them had about a 10-inch diameter, the other was approximately 6 inches. As the leading edge of the wing hit these trees, they were snapped as if a karate master were demonstrating his skill. The airplane spun 540 degrees and crashed into the hollow going backward. Coming to a stop upright, the two souls aboard scrambled out of the plane, with the pilot collapsing only a few steps from the wreckage, his back badly broken. I’ve often told my students that any landing you can walk away from is a good landing. If you can use the plane again, it’s a great landing. This one was only going to count as a good landing. And just barely, at that. To this day a question remains unanswered in my mind. Why did they not go around a third time? Why didn’t they fly to an airport less than 16 miles to the west that had a runway aligned
almost directly with the wind, and that was also twice as long and twice as wide? Get-there-itis? Pride? Only the pilot in command that day can answer those questions. My mentor, and friend, Safety Program Manager Bob Martens, has often said that the go-around is the most neglected maneuver in flying. How right he is! I have personally witnessed several accidents, that miraculously were not fatal, that were the direct result of go-arounds gone bad. In more than one instance getthere-itis or pride played a large role. Why do we get the mentality that we “have to land at this airport”? I remember one blustery New Year’s Day when I went to four different airports before finding a runway where I didn’t run out of crosswind capability, in a T-tailed Arrow. Pilots do some pretty dumb things when they think their peers are observing them. One of them is trying to force a landing gone bad, thinking that they will be thought of as less than competent if they have to go around. But the opposite is true. It shows cautious good sense. I have frequently told students just learning to land that they should not be reluctant to go around, thinking that I will think poorly of them. I tell them, quite honestly, that I won’t remember how many times they might have to go around, but I will never forget the one time they fail to go around, and crash! So next time you’re flying, why not practice some go-arounds? Remember, it’s power first. Full power, smoothly and steadily, not slammed in. Then clean up the configuration as necessary as you transition to best angle climb speed. If you have the good sense to go around, when necessary, and the skill to do it properly, you will be more than a good pilot . . . you’ll be a great pilot. Vintage Airplane
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