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Hitting the global reset – Back to fundamentals

When I was flying over the North Pole my critical flight systems started failing. First, my two GPS systems dropped offline, next my attitude heading and reference systems, next my autopilot, and finally HF and VHF communications. It literally felt like the world — my world — was falling apart. What could I rely on? As pilots, we are taught to trust our instruments, but in this case, the “credible sources of information” were not working and that wasn’t going to “fly.” If ever there was a time to make a bold step and bust a move for my survival it was then. I decided I would focus on what was working. In this case above the clouds. It was what I was seeing with my own eyes, not what other people were telling me, not what I was reading, but what I as a human was experiencing using my “Mark 1 Mod 0” eyeballs. I was going back to fundamentals because that’s what we must do when nothing makes sense. Rely on our very fundamental and core beliefs. The fundamentals of flight are clearly to “aviate, navigate and communicate.” In my situation, at 31,000 feet I started hand-flying the plane and trying to figure out which way it was to Alaska and how to communicate with them.

Shortly after returning to the United States from the polar circumnavigations, I quickly noticed the world, my world was falling apart. I again was questioning what I can believe? People were interpreting what they thought was happening and telling me what I “should” do. I could flip a channel and get contradictory information. The source of my information was again failing me. If ever there was a time to make a bold step and bust a move once again it was now. I decided I would hit the global reset button and again go back to my fundamentals and rely on what I was seeing in the world with my own eyes and reestablish a ‘true’ reference system. In a way, I was using my true north to find my way in the world. I started to look at people and realize that we are really all the same. At a fundamental “life” level we are all human. We all have the same wants, desires, and basic needs — health, happiness, safety, financial security, and more than ever peace in our lives and the world. We clearly had more similarities than differences. I would focus on these similarities.

During this time, I didn’t see many “true” leaders around me guiding us the way back to our fundamentals. I saw many people fighting against each other canceling out the energy of those squared off against them. They were making no progress. These people had become polarized as our world had. It was clear this was a world without direction and a world that was falling apart. I again was questioning what and who can I believe? It was again time to take a bold step and bust a move. It was time to be the leader in my own life rather than waiting around for somebody to do it for me.

I was reminded about one of the reasons why my Flying Thru Life team and I embarked on the Pole to Pole trip. It was because we were tired of waiting for others to fulfill their promises and change the world in a positive way for us. To bring about the change we wanted to see we needed to go out into the world and make our best effort and try and make the world a better place.

The Flying Thru Life team did this using the aircraft the Citizen of the World and connecting the two places on the planet where peace had always existed – the north and south poles. By connecting these places on a mission of peace, we could connect the people along the way as well. We were our own leaders. We were the change we wanted to see in the world.

What I propose to you is that you return to your fundamentals and be the leader in your own life and not wait for someone to do it for you. We are all stronger than we know and are connected in our humanity. We value peace, safety, security, health, joy and happiness, and more than ever family. Go into the world use your own eyes and find your own truth, follow your “True North” and be a positive force of change in the world. Don’t let current events stop you — we didn’t. You just need to lean into it a little more, use your fundamentals and find your way. Your path will look different. For you it may be creating a support group for small businesses, finding housing for people without homes, supporting new leadership, creating new jobs. Find what works for you and bust a move! займ ваши деньги онлайн заявказайм монейманзайм денег сургут

Robert DeLaurentis is a successful real estate entrepreneur and investor, pilot, speaker, philanthropist, and author of Zen Pilot and Flying Thru Life. A Gulf War veteran, Robert received his pilot’s license in 2009, completed his first circumnavigation in 2015, and is currently flying his second record-breaking circumnavigation from Pole to Pole in his aircraft “Citizen of the World,” on a global peace mission, “Oneness for Humanity: One Planet, One People, One Plane.” For more information, visit PoletoPoleFlight.com.

Five years of Europe

Between last month’s post and this one, the five-year anniversary has passed, both of the PA-11 getting unloaded from the container and touching German soil, and of our disembarking a 747 in Frankfurt with our cat and dog, driving in a jetlagged stupor to our new home in Germany at the time. If there is ever a time to reflect on the original plan versus how it turned out, that would be now.

The Alps figured into the plan from the beginning. The wording was “we expect to find ourselves in the Swiss or Austrian Alps eventually.” My mental idea was that it would take two or three years, as we hoped to do Germany an appropriate justice, which is to say that I wanted to go to university to work on the next degree while integrating into the local culture. It is an understatement to point out that none of the above happened, finding myself later in that year in the Pyrenees, though the plan has worked partially as anticipated, for none of the original reasons.

If one were to take any five-year period in life, there would be an element of personal evolution, independent of the cultural realities of living abroad. That is to say that, if I remained in the United States, we still would have faced a relocation in late 2015 and, in hindsight, would have continued to try to reconcile unsustainable mountain town development, ever increasing costs, and rapid housing turnover with my desire to live near and fly in very large mountains. In effect, I can say that I have exchanged certain aggravations for other ones in pursuit of the same goal in the past half decade.

I expected aviation to be more difficult in Europe than the USA and was aware that many costs would be vastly higher. As those who have read my more vitriolic posts are well aware, many things surprised me on levels I could not have imagined though, once I got the hang of it, I could acclimate and factor about 60% of the nonsense and find a way to press forward. Did I ever think that I wouldn’t care about $27 landing fees? I regularly get presented with landing fee invoices well in excess of $200 per month, and I have gotten to the point that I do not think of them while flying. “You only live once,” so I go flying when I want and that is that.

One thing I that I have not been able to conquer, much to my dismay, is the utter lack of desire to fly great distances like I used to do in the US. I simply do not like landing at other airports apart from the then current home, unless I have gotten to know the place and figure out what the procedures are. I can’t think of many places where one pays the landing fee and fuel both seamlessly and in the same place. It is often a dance of running around the airport to fill out reams of paperwork to pay exorbitant fees, which usually means refueling is about a two-hour process, instead of 38-45 minutes in US airports. Add that to 4 to 6 hours of flying, and the process takes all day, which means that it is rare. I have tried time and again to smack myself into some form of motivation to “get over it,” and it is astonishingly infrequent that I can seem to rouse myself to do.

As a case in point, I have this glaring hole of terrain that I would like to visit in Switzerland, in the Alps from Andermatt east to Liechtenstein. That necessitates about 5 hours in the air plus a fuel stop, so I found a nice little airport not far from Zürich, ideally situated with regard to proximity and microclimates. While the official aerodrome chart indicates that there is avgas and specific operating hours, that is not enough to go by. There is also a “PPR” (prior permission required) requirement, which is common in Switzerland, though muddling through the website in German I found that the PPR requirement can be satisfied by listening to a recording on the phone before visiting, though the recording is in German and my language skills are inadequate to process aeronautical details in such a fashion. I’ll solve that by getting someone to call for me, though the problem that remains is something on the site about how to handle paying the landing fee if the airport is open, but it is unattended. It mentions nothing of the same for fuel, so it is imperative to find out if fuel is automatic or not, and if automatic, how does one pay? Payment in Europe is anything but consistent: some are Total cards only, Air BP cards only, cash only, or all of the above inclusive of major credit cards. In any case, I email in German and English to get the scoop and…two weeks later…no reply, which means back to getting a friend to call and sort it out. One can understand why, when there are pretty mountains and scenery nearby, I land and takeoff from the home base airport and forget the aggravation.

In any case, I’d like to find a way to “get over it.” It likely will involve an expensive installation of a second fuel tank in the PA-11, as my three-hour range, coupled with low airport density in mountains and an incredibly slow airplane, is a significant deterrent. This remains on my personal “to do” list, as there are 27 countries in the EU, with more in Europe as a whole, and the Cub has only been to 9 of them.

Back to reflecting on a half-decade of being outside of America, and I can safely say that most of my expectations and understanding were vastly incorrect, the bulk of which was cultural. I don’t think I am overly unique in my point of view, as many people back home draw certain conclusions about Europe, similar to how I used to think, that are not fully correct, requiring more than some visits to debunk. At the same token, while most everything that I thought was true turns out not to be, many other things turned out to be far better than I expected, in very subtle and cumulative ways.

For starters, there is virtually never an instance where I look at a flight in the Cub and have a chunk of time where I am simply letting it pass by to get somewhere. Countless times in the US, I would have a destination in mind, whether an airport or some scenery, and there were vast sums of repetitive space that needed to be overflown, which meant that I would go into a butt- and mind-numbing “road trip” mode, where I would get lost in my mind, letting the hours pass. Instead of a vivid flight filled with luscious discovery, I saw a day in three-hour flight legs, refueling as fast as humanly possible, and a reward at the end having flown as far as possible while the sun was up. The thought of doing that here is simply ludicrous as I am almost never bored in the air. All one has to do is look down and there is an endless cornucopia of castles, curvy roads, orchards, vineyards, rolling farms, mountain chalets, and the like to entertain oneself.

To that end, after what I consider a “good flight,” which is usually one with resplendent lighting and includes discovery of something new, I spend a moment reflecting after putting the airplane in the hangar, still struggling to believe that I am having these experiences at all, much less with the airplane that I used for my solo flight in 1997. I thought the feeling would go away quite a long time ago and, five years later, it hasn’t. Many have inquired of me privately why I put up with the frustrations of international living, and that is the answer, that the allure of what is around the next bend is greater than the joy of raw aviation freedom in the US. Hopefully I can get over the bad combination of low & slow flying + European bureaucracy and start flying some longer distances.

In any case, I do have a new chapter in life that is soon to unfold, which should, if things go as planned, result in lots of more flying. Stay tuned.

Some photographs from recent escapades in the air….

Rime ice.

There was a sandstorm recently, blown up from the Western Sahara. So what did I do? Go flying! One reason most generally avoid sandstorms is that visibility changes rapidly, which is what happened for the worse. In any case, the below image is de-saturated and accurate to what it looked like in the air. The Cub got a new air filter afterward.

An “alp chalet” surrounded by avalanches.


I flew this valley on flight simulator and then did it in reality. The F-16 climbs better through here than my tired old O-200.


Vineyards with snow.

One way to solve the avalanche problem: build a dike to divert them.


Grand Combin (4314m / 14, 154′) with a tad too much wind. Staying low in the Alps tends to work.

Alp chalets covered in snow to the right, avalanche to the left.

Mt Blanc (center horizon, 15,174′) with mountain wave and wind on the lower ridges. I know how to thread the needle flying through these ranges without getting pummeled, though I have to be in the right mood for it.

The forecast called for more docile winds and, well, here we are. 

A rare swarm of paragliders in winter. 

This is actually a hiking refuge, buried to the roof. The structure to the right of it is completely buried.


Book #27 is here: Abstractions of the Alps, basically containing whatever I found to be particularly beautiful thus far in my alpine flying adventures.

Garrett Fisher is an aerial adventure photographer, having photographed some of the most rugged and wild terrain in America from his 1949 Piper PA-11. After living in Germany with the Cub, he recently moved to the Spanish Pyrenees to continue the flying adventure. He has published six aerial photography books covering the Colorado Rockies, Wyoming, high terrain in the Southeast, and the Outer Banks, with more US and European books in the pipeline. He blogs regularly about his flights at www.garrettfisher.me.

Your 2021 flying plan

As the new year rolls in, it’s a great time to put the past behind us and take some positive steps toward an even better flying year ahead. It’s a time when we can get clear on how we can be better pilots and better people. Honestly, I think the two go hand in hand. I’d like to make some suggestions for your own personal flying plan to make your flying year ahead safer, more robust, and impactful.

Fight the contraction

Many you may be saying, “life has taken this turn and I’m going to hunker down and wait it out. I’ll pick up my flying when this is all over.” That’s the conservative thing to do. I’m going to suggest you do just the opposite. When people are moving in one direction there are opportunities going in the exact opposite direction. This is a hard thing to do as the herd mentality can be strong and playing it safe seems like an easy decision. Life as a pilot may at times be risky but we do what we can to mitigate that risk and we get in the airplane and go flying. Do the same in life it will pay great dividends. The very reason I fly so much is because I took advantage of a contracting real estate market in the early 1990s when people said it was insane to expand.

Make improvements to your airplane

For those of you that have taken that huge step of aircraft ownership you know there is so much you can do to make your ride safer and more capable. During a slower economy, this may be the time to get a better deal on labor and even aircraft parts. Some of those projects that are time-intensive are perfect for your list of things to do in the new year. The Citizen of the World is getting painted now at Art Craft Paints in Santa Maria, California. I’m taking this time to get the upholstery upgraded and we are replacing various bushings and other parts that are easier to get to with the control surfaces removed.

Survival training

Work on your survival kit! I wrote an article for AOPA that detailed a simple kit to carry if you wanted slightly more than what Rambo might carry. See (https://www.aopa.org/news-and-media/all-news/2018/march/pilot/travel-always-prepared) I suggest that you consider expanding it a bit to include all of the environments you might fly in and then practice with the gear. I’ve now taken four survival classes through CAPS and Survival Systems but never got to use my gear out in the country. Doing things like building a shelter, hunting or fishing for food, or pulling out the medical kit and practicing with it are good ideas.

Try something new, mix it up

Keep your mind engaged and learn something new. If you need some ideas, peruse the list of courses that are available to you through companies like Gleim Aviation and King Schools. Get your tailwheel endorsement, floatplane rating, or for me—it’s time to give helicopters a try. I built and flew many radio controlled aerobatic helicopters even before learned to fly. As a child, I remember being excited to get my Whirly Bird model. It flew around in circles connected by a tether and could land, take off, and even pick things up. Maybe it’s time to explore the area of aviation that has been calling out to you since childhood.

Explore somewhere new

Pick somewhere new to explore. The nature of flying is exploration and there are so many places to go in our state, country, and world if your ambitions pull you in that direction. Canada, our neighbor to the north, is on next on my list this year. The country is vast, the people are friendly, and the air traffic controllers are wonderful. I have been there a few times already and really liked the Klondike in Yukon territory, and specifically the city of Dawson where the gold rush started. It’s steeped in tradition and great for the soul.

Share the adventure

This is a critical thing for each and every pilot to do for the community of aviation. Participate in or develop your own program to inspire others to become excited about flight. For 2021, I have been working with Redbird Flight Simulations and written 5 flight simulations that will allow anyone to fly the south and north poles, dodge a cyclone out of Madagascar, and experience the chilling test flights of the Citizen of the World after the installation of countless new systems. This combined with the 12-part docuseries and a 30 to 45 minute Air and Space Live Chat with the Smithsonian we hope will inspire people to take more interest in flying. For you it might simply be taking a kid flying. Do what works for you. The critical thing is to share your passion!

Find the solitude

Flying is the best medicine for the challenges we are now experiencing in life. Taking that hour or two to disconnect from the grid, leaving your cell phone behind and the chatter of life to connect with nature and just be in the silence is so important. Remember silence is oxygen for the soul. One of my favorite things to do here in San Diego is to fly out to Catalina Island and go for lunch and a walk. It’s like combining the challenges of flying, nature, and a nice meal all into one. It’s the best of all worlds and makes for a relaxing and peaceful afternoon.

Dream a little bit bigger

And finally, I encourage each of you to step a bit outside your comfort zone. We get used to defining ourselves in limiting ways. Sometimes we believe what others and even we have told ourselves. If we listen to this chatter, then it becomes part of who we are. We are growing and expanding human beings and each day we are given the opportunity to be anything that we want to be with enough focus and persistence. When the Universe directed me towards flying around the world now twice—first West to East—and then South to North—I never thought I could even do that, but I chipped away at it until it was done. Writing and public speaking were a great concern but with time and persistence I grew to find my voice. You too can find yours.

We get another crack at life in 2021. Why not take full advantage of it and just go for it? Everything we need is available to us. Yes, there are challenges, and there always will be, but they make us stronger and wiser. 2020 was a year to count our blessings and to reflect on life. 2021 is the year to make your boldest step forward, to find the opportunities that are present and to be the great pilot and person you have always wanted to be.

Let’s do it together in 2021! https://zp-pdl.com/best-payday-loans.php самый лучший займзайм на яндекс без привязки картыджет мани займ

Robert DeLaurentis is a successful real estate entrepreneur and investor, pilot, speaker, philanthropist, and author of Zen Pilot and Flying Thru Life. A Gulf War veteran, Robert received his pilot’s license in 2009, completed his first circumnavigation in 2015, and is currently flying his second record-breaking circumnavigation from Pole to Pole in his aircraft “Citizen of the World,” on a global peace mission, “Oneness for Humanity: One Planet, One People, One Plane.” For more information, visit PoletoPoleFlight.com.

Ten years of Cub ownership

As the new year approached, it occurred to me that I have owned the Cub for now just over 10 years. There is nothing like the passage of time measured in a base 10 number for a tad bit of reflection. Instead of rambling on endlessly about many of the stories that I have already told, I realized that I have most of the expenses for the airplane readily available. What better way to summarize a decade of flying than to reduce it to some numbers to tell the story?

It turns out that I only have these records collated for calendar years 2013 to 2020, so we will go with that. I compiled a chart below of my effective hourly operating cost, as measured in US dollars. For the cost accountants among us, I decided to not include my commercial pilot certificate training costs, installation of new equipment, the move to Europe, nor the costs of my European pilot’s license (which, as I have ranted, were intemperate). Since 2020 for me was an utter bloodbath cash wise, spending record sums to keep the prop spinning, there had to be a better representation of maintenance costs. Can I really believe that the $500 I spent on maintenance in 2013 is fair compared to $12,500 in 2020 (it’s a Cub!!)? In effect, the restoration costs incurred by my grandfather made the early years fairly cheap. During the following years where I flew it like crazy, I was effectively racking up a bill for something so unfortunate as 2020. Thus, I took 8 years of maintenance costs, pooled them, and applied them based on hours flown. The result is below:

10 Years of Hourly Operating Costs

Now, I expected it to look something like this. The technical components are pretty simple: in 2015 I flew over 300 hours. 2017 and 2018 featured lots of flying, particularly in cheaper places like the Iberian Peninsula. 2019 and 2020 is the result of finding the most expensive country in Europe, flying in it, and then watching the Swiss franc appreciate in value rather strongly, making the problem worse.

So, what can be done about this problem? I shall reflect on a conversation I had when negotiating hangar space at a certain airport in Switzerland. The quote for rent was astonishing, to which I replied: “You’re quoting me 1/3rd of the value of the airplane, paid every year in rental costs.” Without as much as a shred of humor, the person replied: “Get a more expensive airplane.”

What is the solution? Fly more! I probably could get the rate down to about $140 if I reasonably increased flying hours, though that is about it, unless I go bonkers and repeat 2015. I did have to ask myself if owning my own aircraft is the most financially sensible option, for which I have a good cost comparison available. I am a member of the flying club in Gruyères, for which a PA-18-95 is available wet for 182 CHF/hr ($206), it being substantially the same airplane as mine. That includes everything but landing fees, which in my case, my effective [bloodbath] wet rate without landing fees is $175/hr. The advantage of the Super Cub is that everything is maintained without me having to lift a finger. The disadvantage is that the distance is difficult, and the plane is regularly booked by other members. Despite approaching equivalent rental costs, owning is still a better option for how I like to fly.

This exercise had a surprise emotional reality. I expected it to be little more than numbers, with an effective comparison of Europe vs America, with results that we all could predict. What I did not expect was to have the following reality smack me in the face: “Nothing has not been as good as 2015.” That was the year of living on Alpine Airpark in Wyoming and flying the wings off the airplane.

The truth is that 2015 was false in many ways. I flew probably 100 hours more than I would have normally, due to the impending move to Europe, which began in August 2015; such motivation would have been less if I did not have projects to finish. Housing availability on the airpark turns out to have been for us a very limited window where we were lucky and could not have reasonably expected it to continue past spring of 2016. Further, the alignment of factors that made Europe possible were many and all came together precisely when the housing situation in Wyoming went south. If we were faced with the same circumstances again, there is little doubt we would make the same decision again. It was opportunistic to have been in Wyoming in such a fashion and equally to come to Europe at that time.

That doesn’t change the fact that the best year for aviation was 2015 by a wide margin. Europe has thus far been astonishing on many levels, though this exercise woke me up to the fact that, despite world class scenery, I am staying too close to home and I would like to change that paradigm. While I won’t be able to recreate the raw freedom and introspective expanse of the American West, I have some ideas that I am considering.

Some pretty pictures from recent flights:

Chablais Alps on the French side of Lake Geneva. Accidentally flew into a light snow shower that I didn’t see and got a splatter of icing, for the first time ever.

Islands in the sky, on the NW side of the Alps in France. It seems this is rather common in winter.

Mont Blanc (15,774′) with some blowing snow. Chamonix, France is beneath the inversion.

Mosquetaire aircraft on skis taking off from Wildhorn, Switzerland. The smooth area is a glacier.

Outrunning a snow shower – Château-d’Oex, Switzerland.

Super Cubs on the Wildhorngletscher, Switzerland.

Book #26 has hit the shelves: “Flight of a Lifetime: A Monument to an Epic Flight in the Alps.

 

Garrett Fisher is an aerial adventure photographer, having photographed some of the most rugged and wild terrain in America from his 1949 Piper PA-11. After living in Germany with the Cub, he recently moved to the Spanish Pyrenees to continue the flying adventure. He has published six aerial photography books covering the Colorado Rockies, Wyoming, high terrain in the Southeast, and the Outer Banks, with more US and European books in the pipeline. He blogs regularly about his flights at www.garrettfisher.me.

Into the Alligator’s Mouth

2020 has been some year.  Gone were the AOPA Regional Fly-Ins, Sun ‘n Fun, Oshkosh, as well as all the awesome state and regional airport days and charity fly-ins I usually attend.  Should you choose to hang out with me over the next four months while the weather improves and COVID [hopefully] fades, you will gain insight from me and  a dozen of my friends.

This blog-series, Into the Alligator’s Mouth, will center on the psychology of personal minimums;  your personal relationship with your minimums.

Actual scary alligator. Photo credit: Lauranell Grisham, High School friend extraordinaire

Like any healthy examination of relationships, we will focus on:

  • why we create them,

  • why we commit them to paper [or not],

  • when we fudge on them,

  • what we learn from them, and

  • what we hope never to again, experience.

 

This year I have flown about ½ to ¾ my normal hours.  The majority were in training for the Commercial certificate and the check ride I took in the Columbia River Gorge. Due to the fires in the Pacific Northwest this summer, I had some very recent experience flying in actual instrument conditions [smoke/ash] down to published minimums.

Shasta, en route to Hood River Oregon

Yet on a routine flight home from Camarillo, I received a bit of an awakening about my personal minimums.  Let me explain. My best friend Pia and I had just finished a great weekend up at the beach. The plan was to fly her home to Camarillo, turn and burn back to Santa Maria.  The weather at home was forecast to be 1000 overcast, which really wasn’t a big deal.  As I flew the short flight home dusk began to fall, and so did the ceiling.

When ATC originally asked my intentions, I asked for the RNAV 30, but as the visibility went down, I opted for a precision approach.  Normally if I am planning for a flight with an approach in actual conditions, I carry a printed plate which is highlighted, have an iPad geo-referenced plate on Foreflight, and the approach loaded in to my G530W.  I wasn’t anticipating this approach, so I didn’t have the paper print out, but had everything else.  I briefed the missed approach and noted that San Luis Obispo Airport was VFR. I knew that if I went missed once, I would immediately go to San Luis Obispo and have my son pick me up. I got vectored way out over the ocean and finally turned in to the ILS 12 Santa Maria.  I broke out just 60 feet above published minimums, had great forward visibility underneath, and landed just fine. Another successful flight of Haywire Airlines.

I have to admit that as I was flying, I realized my personal minimums had not been adjusted since right after my 2017 instrument check ride.  Further that I could fudge on my minimums and best case no one would know, and worst case the NTSB investigator would know.

My personal relationship with minimums

At time of instrument rating in November 2017 I had 7 hours in actual [dual] and my personal visibility minimums on departure were double precision approach minimums, or approximately 400 feet with the idea being that if I needed to get back in to the airport, I could.  For approach, I also used double the charted minimums, while I was still pretty green.

Sometimes my Facebook memories provides a mea culpa type situation for me. Here is a snippet from a 30-day-old instrument pilot flying in dense smoke.  In this case, I was within my personal minimums but the conditions were unique.

“December 17, 2017: Today was a great day for me, sorry for the long post. Feel free to drink heavily as you read, or eat sugar cookies. It started off as a Pilots and Paws rescue flight for a one-eyed cat named Gio. Since I was headed up to the Bay Area, I thought I would contact my 96-year-old pen pal/friend William Mason [Army Air Corps Flight Instructor at Rankin Field with my Dad, and brother to uber famous pilot Sammy Mason] who flew out of Petaluma to see if we could meet up for a burger at the 29er Diner.

Smoky Skies

I did all my flight planning with Foreflight, SkyVector, and the NOAA site for weather which was severe clear except for smoke in vicinity of departure airport, Santa Maria, CA. I filed the flight plan online and got an email that it was received by flight service [She thinks “What a rock star I am for using all this wonderful technology”] When I left the house this morning it looked like dusk instead of dawn due to the smoke. I could see that San Luis Obispo was clear, so I thought, at most, I would be in the smoke [instrument conditions] for just a few minutes. Opening the hangar door, I could see a fine layer of ash all over my Kennon cover.

As I loaded up the plane I looked out and saw the tiniest of tiny suns trying to burn through the smoke. I got my taxi clearance and asked tower for my IFR clearance to Petaluma. The next bit of news was not so happy “Uh, 6619U I have no IFR flight plan for you in the system.” Drat! I mentioned that I had even gotten an email confirmation. Hmmm. I let the lovely tower folks [really, they are, no sarcasm there] know when I was done taxiing, I would figure it out. Figure it out I did. Guess who filed the plan for a WEEK from today? Me, yup me. Duh. Luckily, I had the routing, so no worries, got it put into the system.

Upon departure the smoke was maybe 1000 above ground level… maybe. I was in the smoke; I mean in the smoke. Could not see anything, nothing. “Okay Sister, this is what you are trained for, instrument scan, track the course, you can do this. Probably won’t be but a minute or two.” Yeah—no. Just under thirty minutes later I come out of the smoke right over the Paso Robles airport. I knew that my tracking was not the best while in the smoke. I was disappointed that I sort of got flustered. I was able to just regain my composure and soldier on.

Bill Mason & Me

Hecky darn, that was stressful. I flew up the coast and the day was spectacular. ATC was super helpful and I was able to navigate well with my lowly 2-VORs, DME, Garmin 396 and IPad mini. I asked for the Bay Tour [as did about a hundred others] and was grinning ear to ear flying over the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz and the bay. I headed off to Petaluma and landed safely. The next few hours were spent with Bill and his daughter.

We got to catch up, talk about aviation and some of his glory days. When it was time to leave, I made sure to check the date and time on my flight plan and hit “File”— voila it went through. I did get vectored in a way from ATC that reminded me of an old high school cheer “lean to the left, lean to the right, stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight” The routing on the way home was offshore quite a bit. I don’t know about anyone else, but I swear I hear every single engine hiccup when I am over water.

At 9000 I saw a beautiful and enduring view of the sunset off the right side. I knew  that the smoke would be formidable on the approach into the Central Coast. I descended down from 9000 to 8000, then down to 5000. Under the smoke at 4000 feet, it was black as night. I requested a precision approach from ATC. I thought it best to fly an approach I had practiced many times that took me right to runway 12. Between the black of night, and the ash build up on the windscreen, and the general haziness from the smoke, the approach was challenging.

For those pilots reading you will be cheering for me as my needles were centered DEAD-ON the whole time. I did have a little bit of an optical illusion just above the aim point. It was hard for me to tell how high I was above the runway to begin the flare. I should have maybe looked out the left window, but I didn’t. Landing was rock star– which is so wonderful. All in all, I had an hour of actual. Another successful flight of Haywire Airlines.”

I used an AOPA IFR Template to develop my written personal minimums for my instrument check ride.

There is also a VFR Template available.

My “hard and fast” minimums are about items that scare me the most: ice, low visibility, low fuel. Flash forward to 2020 and I had approaches in to Oshkosh close to minimums [weather] and several California airports to minimums in smoke.   But I hadn’t updated my written minimums until now.


Pucker Factor: On the trip home from Camarillo, I wasn’t psychologically ready for an approach down to minimums, but the reality of the overcast layer meant I had to slow down the airplane, and get ready.  If you argue with reality, you will lose, every time.

Hidden Gem: Updating my written minimums every season will keep them relevant and my flights safer.


As I pondered personal minimums in a pandemic, I decided to reach in to my address book of pilot friends and reach out to ask questions about minimums, guidelines, self-restrictions and the like.

I spoke to range of folks from pretty newly minted private pilots, to those working on an instrument rating, commercial, CFI and DPE.  I talked with female and male pilots with hours ranging from low hundreds to 25,000.  While all I talked to had a formulation for themselves in regards to limits, I found out that except for me and the two guys with over 20,000 hours, no one else had personal minimums written down.

I had a fabulous time talking with the 12 pilots and I got a little gem or a pucker factor from each of the conversations. So join me next year, for more stories. My hope is that our words might start an honest discussion on ways that we can keep ourselves safe in the airplane or on the ground. Because in the end, cheating on your minimums is cheating on yourself.

As one CFI/DPE  I interviewed pondered regarding minimums…

“How far do you put my head in an alligator’s

mouth before I can’t get it out?”

 

So long 2020

 

Jolie Lucas makes her home on the Central Coast of CA with her mini-Golden, Mooney. Jolie is a Mooney owner, licensed psychotherapist, and commercial pilot. Jolie is a nationally-known aviation presenter and aviation writer. Jolie is the Region 4 Vice President of the California Pilots Association. She is the 2010 AOPA Joseph Crotti Award recipient for GA Advocacy. Email: [email protected] Web: www.JolieLucas.com Twitter: Mooney4Me

Weather flight

When I first visit a mountain range, particularly one that I intend to do some flying in, I gaze from the car, train, or walkway up into terrain, wondering what it would be like to fly in such areas. Then my mind wanders to what kind of bad weather the place experiences. The natural evolution of this process is to imagine what kind of marginal days might exist which would be splendid to view from the air though questionable to pull off.

When in a new area, the obvious choice is to restrict flying to nice weather days. For me, that is often not only VFR but usually sunny as well. As we know, mountain winds are something that I do not mind surfing, though I don’t see the point in doing so if it is hazy or otherwise uncompelling, as I like to take impactful photographs. Too much in the way of clouds or other standard stormy weather usually isn’t worth it on either level.

When it comes to icing, dangerous wind, thunderstorms, and IMC, it is obvious that those days are ones where the Cub stands in the hangar. Most other airplanes do as well, as it is hard to pull off IFR flying deep in the mountains, unless one is landing at a long runway with a good ILS or RNAV approach, which is not usually the case in tight terrain. In any case, on those stormy “obvious” bad weather days, I am frequently looking out the window, assessing what is going on.

What interests me is to catalogue a basis for understanding if I were to get caught in unexpectedly bad weather. Does moderate rain tend to have low ceilings? Is it legal VFR, or if technical IFR, is it survivable in the Cub? Could I get fooled in such a situation, fly down a dead-end valley, and get boxed in behind me? If that happens, does it fog in below, or can I land in a field? These questions are going through my mind whether I am at home, in the car, or doing anything else on the worst of days; I’d like to know what I would do in that situation in the Cub, in that weather, in the mountains.

That lends to the number of times where the forecast is an “obvious” bad weather day, and it turned out to be anything but. Sure, it may have lower ceilings, some valley fog here and there, with precipitation coming and going, but did it ever become IFR at any point? Would I have been truly stuck if I went up? If I went up and things changed, could I make it back to the airport? Could I make to an escape route out of the mountains to another airport? I then login to webcams to examine my suppositions.

When I started mountain flying in Colorado, I can only count one marginal day that I flew. Nothing bad happened, though I filed in my mind that I “only flew on sunny days.” Forgetting my summer flying around the Appalachians (half the time in MVFR weather), I started flirting more actively with marginal days in Wyoming. It helped to live on the runway, so I could hop in the plane, circle around the valley, and dive back to the airport if things went south. Ultimately, I took next to no risks in that regard, only progressively beginning to chase beautiful cloud phenomena associated with weather after about 200 hours of Wyoming flying.

The Pyrenees opened up the floodgates of that kind of behavior, aided by time, the fact that the valley tended to stay VFR, and the reality that weather often parked itself over one of two ridges. I slowly nibbled at the question, until it became something regular to take a local flight on days that would be unacceptable to traverse a longer distance.

That still left the Alps as a wildcard. None of the aforementioned ranges had the notoriety, vertical relief, or precipitation count as high as the Alps. Treating it with appropriate respect, I reset my understanding when it came to what was acceptable and what was not.

It did not mean that I avoided looking out the window and asking myself how I’d handle being in the air, no matter what I was looking at. That led to some marginal days that I flew, where a cross country flight was out of the question, though a local one was not. It was a reality that has repeated itself enough times that the itch that demanded to be scratched was facing a bona fide stormy day.

In this instance, there was a stalled low driving a strong front into the southern Alps. As I would be taking off from the north side, it was evident that clouds bunching up against the Pennine Alps ridge would not be a problem on the north side, though Mediterranean moisture was so extreme, dumping over 3 feet of snow on the south side, that it was breaking containment on the north side, dropping some inches all the way into southern Germany. That front was parked to my east, with a variety of swirling clouds and other features in western Switzerland.

After extensive browsing of an official flight briefing, unofficial weather sources, micro models, 360 degree webcams all over the Alps, and my good old intuition, I decided that I wanted to do something new: I would leave the local area, cross the Bernese Alps into the Rhône Valley near Sion, and come back. I left myself the right to completely change my mind, and I had three alternate airports if the plan went south. The only way to truly gain some experience in this area would be to actually go up in the air and experience things firsthand. My goal was to compare how I feel on the ground in my personal throne where I suppose upon how I’d handle bad weather in the mountains, to how it felt in the cockpit.

I offer a narrated photo tour below of the flight in question.

Takeoff from Gstaad Airport, runway 26, 300′ AGL.

Between Leysin and Montreux, looking west toward France. Fairly clouded in below, but some surprise sun to the west.

Looking south, where I intend to go. Roc du Champion to the left, Dents du Midi (10,686′) to the right, occluded in some light snow. Bex Aerodrome available in the open valley before the stratus deck.

The Rhône River emptying into Lake Geneva. This kind of cloud deck is fairly common and shouldn’t move too much.

Some action in the Vaud Alps, though note Les Diablerets (10,000 feet or so) in the back, with the summits open. My intention is to get to the other side.

Martigny at the bend, with the intended flight to the left. Snow shower has abated and the stratus deck appears to not want to close. Alternate airport one mile below and 3 miles behind me.

Dents du Midi to my right. Snow shower showing no signs of snowflakes down here.

Rounding the bend, looking into the heart of the Alps in the Rhône Valley. Sion Airport in the gap in the clouds, most of the way down.

Had to call Sion Tower to get cleared through the CTR, due to terrain. No traffic was active other than rescue helicopters.

Approaching Sion. Believe it or not, I am in glide range of the airport and can do so VFR. It is just under the gap to the right. Darker clouds ahead are the big snowstorm pummeling other parts of the Alps.

Still in VFR glide range, though I have proven my point. Raron Airport is down the valley, though I am not sure it is open, and I am really extending myself if I plunge into the precipitation, try to get back, and find that things have changed. Time to head over the pass to my left.

Looking back from where I came, as I start climbing north. It looks worse than it is. A sliver remained open for Sion (for which I kept a leery eye). I also could have gone down to Martigny and flown under the cloud deck if need be.

Climbing toward Sanetschpass. Summits look clear, though some clouds I am unsure about ahead.

Sanetschpass on the right. Clouds seem inconsequential.

Crossing the pass. Clouds were there, actually – just hard to see.

On the north side, reassuring that things haven’t worsened to the west, as I had some concern clouds would grow from the NW. They were to my right from this point, as expected.

Virtually in glide range to Gstaad Airport. Massif du Vanil Noir on the right. Those low clouds were not there when I took off, so they were actually beginning to ooze up the valley. That phenomenon is extremely hard to forecast on some days.

North side of Vanil Noir.

Now heading toward the airport. Some days this cloud deck stays here…. all day. Other days, it moves up another 2 miles, and parks there. And other days, its devilish tentacles creep further up, cover the airport, and that is that.

Left hand downwind for runway 26.

Left base, runway 26, per the procedure. It is a “box” circuit around Gstaad.


All in all, it was uneventful, though one can see how, if I was wrong in my assumptions, it could have been quite eventful. There were always backups and options in mind, with clear weather to the west, though it is worth noting that nobody else was up during this flight, either in Gstaad or Sion.

Book #25 has been released, “Glaciers of the Bernese Alps.” It is something I am rather proud of, an aerial compendium of nearly every glacier in the Bernese Alps of Switzerland, which contain the largest glaciers in Continental Europe.

Garrett Fisher is an aerial adventure photographer, having photographed some of the most rugged and wild terrain in America from his 1949 Piper PA-11. After living in Germany with the Cub, he recently moved to the Spanish Pyrenees to continue the flying adventure. He has published six aerial photography books covering the Colorado Rockies, Wyoming, high terrain in the Southeast, and the Outer Banks, with more US and European books in the pipeline. He blogs regularly about his flights at www.garrettfisher.me.

Personal lessons learned on the Pole to Pole Flight

 Taking yourself and your aircraft to their absolute limits can teach you things you never knew about yourself, your aircraft, and those involved in the operation of your airplane. While we strive for perfection in our training, the maintenance of our aircraft, and the planning of our missions realistically we will never achieve any of those. That doesn’t mean we should ever stop trying. This art form I’m describing is called flying and can be our greatest source of joy but also at times be the most frustrating and the riskiest thing we will ever do. It is my hope that these lessons learned will help you enjoy your practiced art form while keeping as safe as possible.

Take your time preparing

Don’t rush your preparations for flight. This is a vitally critical time where you get into the zone and begin your transition from being a two to three-dimensional being. Methodically pre-flighting and thinking through your flight can help you avoid making dangerous mistakes. If you are hurried, tell whoever is waiting for you, counting the seconds, that it’s going to be a while longer, and you will be delayed. Take the stress off and take time out of the equation. If you feel like spending 30 minutes with the instruction manual on that new piece of equipment, pushing buttons on your panel, studying the approaches, walking yourself through the emergency checklists, or just sitting for a minute and being quiet then do it. This time is well worth it and will make your experience flying more enjoyable.

When I was in Sweden, I was instructed to park in a particular location that ended up partially blocking the taxiway. In my rush to move the plane the following day, I forgot to take one of the exhaust covers off the pilot side engine. After shutdown, I found the burnt-up exhaust cover 25 feet behind the Gulfstream Turbo Commander 900. I ran to the front of Citizen of the World to see if I had removed the intake cover knowing if I hadn’t, the engine would need to be removed, shipped to a repair facility, and inspected at great cost and delay.

Listen to what your inner voice is saying to you!

If you keep thinking about a nagging problem on your airplane or a concept you don’t quite understand you need to delve deeper into the issue and find out why the Universe keeps tipping you off. I couldn’t help thinking about the environmental system that I ran hard during my polar expedition. I flew the airplane at altitudes higher and colder than it was originally designed to fly while simultaneously using the environmental system to heat the ferry fuel stored in the cabin. When I got back to the United States, we found two stainless steel bleed airlines that had been cooked and burst from long flights of up to 18.1 hours in duration. When the Universe talks, listen!

Hyperfocus

While a Polar Circumnavigation can be extremely complicated organizing sponsorship, speaking engagements, social media, and repairs to the plane when it’s time to fly, your focus should only be on that. Erik Lindbergh said it best before I left the U.S., “You have only one mission and that is to stay alive!” None of the other things that you have going on in your life that are unrelated to aviation will help your decision-making skills in the cockpit. Your ability to stay 100% at the moment will allow you to do the best you can. If you are feeling distracted by something major in your life, visualize taking the issue from your mind and put it into a little wooden box that you will open when you are back on the ground and have the bandwidth.

Never give up on your passion

There are times when things went terribly wrong on my Polar Circumnavigation and I could have quit. One of those moments occurred when my #1 ferry tank burst inside the airplane in Dakar, Senegal, due to a misalignment of the valves, and sprayed fuel in my eyes, on my legs, stomach, arms, chest, and groin. I could have stepped back and watched the airplane be destroyed, packed it up, and called it quits. Instead, I splashed water in my eyes, deflected the fuel out of the plane by cutting a fuel line and using a plastic bag, and did what I could to save it while others around me watched in disbelief. Once the leaking tank drained, I tossed my clothes in the garbage can, showered, had a meal, went to sleep, and left the following day. I skipped the judgments and got on with the mission.

Have faith in your ability to accomplish the impossible

For 18 months I had been told by the industry flight planning leader that they would be able to get me permits to fly to the South Pole. Two days before my departure from the United States, they told me they were unsuccessful, and based on some calls they had made to the Chilean government I would now need permission from their scientific community a process that would take six months.

I recall getting this news standing on the ramp in Las Vegas feeling defeated and betrayed. After 18 months of making promises to 95 sponsors, spending hundreds of thousands of dollars, and working harder than I ever had in my life—things looked very grim. I turned to the U.S. Department of State and they refused to help me despite the fact that the Antarctic Treaty permitted all member nations free movement in the airspace over the continent.

Within 24 hours my team and I shook the setback off and shifted into high gear. Our senior scientist Dr. Dimitri Deheyn from Scripps Institute of Oceanography reached out to the senior scientist for Chile asking for an exception. General Aviation Support Egypt reached out to a British military base in the Falkland Islands asking for permission to depart from there and famed circumnavigator Michel Gordillo reached out to his contacts in Ushuaia, Argentina . In the end, we got approval from all three countries and pulled off what the industry leader could not.  It was an epic win for our team and a testament to what was possible when you choose faith over fear.

Get used to stretching your comfort zone on every flight a small amount

If you aren’t growing, then you are stagnating. It’s an easy space to slip into and before you know it you are afraid. I’m not suggesting taking major chances, but I am suggesting trying new functions on your panel, simulating different emergency procedures, and memorizing the location of critical circuit breakers.  With time you will become a more confident and skilled pilot. You may feel uncomfortable at times, but my guess is you have felt a little awkward during your training and worked through the issues only to be rewarded with a heightened sense of accomplishment and confidence.

Mitigating the risk of flight

Every flight is an opportunity to identify and mitigate the risks that you will encounter. Before each flight, you need to sit for a moment and ask yourself what risks will you encounter on this flight? What can you do to improve your chances of success? Most flights offer different challenges like weather, distance, terrain, day/night, foreign countries, corruption, runway length/surface, and pandemic considerations. One of the most challenging risks I had to mitigate on my Polar Expedition was extreme cold. To mitigate the risk, I flew at the warmest time of the year, installed additional temperature sensors, installed a new environmental system with higher heat capacity, heated my fuel inside the cabin of the plane, wore a survival suit, used Prist and biofuels with a lower gel point, spoke with people that had flown my type of aircraft in the extreme cold and even considered burning avgas in my turboprop engines which is permitted on occasion. How far are you willing to go to make your flight safe?

While the Pole to Pole flight of the Citizen of the World did many things in support of STEM Education, aviation, science, and world peace I am most proud of what I have learned and shared what I hope will make flying safer for each and every general aviation pilot. As a community working together to share what we learn in our areas of expertise we can make everyone safer and our flying experience more enjoyable. female wrestling http://www.otc-certified-store.com/diabetes-medicine-europe.html otc-certified-store.com http://www.otc-certified-store.com/anti-inflammatories-medicine-europe.html http://www.otc-certified-store.com/antidepressants-medicine-europe.html

Robert DeLaurentis is a successful real estate entrepreneur and investor, pilot, speaker, philanthropist, and author of Zen Pilot and Flying Thru Life. A Gulf War veteran, Robert received his pilot’s license in 2009, completed his first circumnavigation in 2015, and is currently flying his second record-breaking circumnavigation from Pole to Pole in his aircraft “Citizen of the World,” on a global peace mission, “Oneness for Humanity: One Planet, One People, One Plane.” For more information, visit PoletoPoleFlight.com.

Bouncing Back: A psychotherapist’s guide for pilots

Some of you may know that I am a licensed psychotherapist. Since March of this year most  counselors have been able to see clients virtually to address mounting mental health issues from the pandemic. I could probably work 24/7 right about now. I truly have never experienced anything like this in my 29 years of practice.

Last week I read a recent study Mental Health Disorders Related to COVID-19–Related Deaths by Naomi M. Simon, MD, MSc1; Glenn N. Saxe, MD2; Charles R. Marmar, MD3 published in the Journal of the American Medical Association [JAMA]. It noted that since the onset of COVID -19 the percentage of Americans who have a diagnosable mental health condition has doubled. Pre-COVID about 20% of the population in the United States was affected by a thought, mood, anxiety or substance abuse disorder. The survey taken in June 2020 now indicates that number has jumped to 40.9%. A stunning part of the excerpt below is that 10.7% of respondents who revealed serious suicidal thoughts in the last month.

A June 2020 survey from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention of 5412 US adults found that 40.9% of respondents reported “at least one adverse mental or behavioral health condition,” including depression, anxiety, posttraumatic stress, and substance abuse, with rates that were 3 to 4 times the rates 1 year earlier.2 Remarkably, 10.7% of respondents reported seriously considering suicide in the last 30 days.2 The sudden interpersonal loss associated with COVID-19, along with severe social disruption, can easily overwhelm the ways individuals and families cope with bereavement.

As our flying started opening back up [with precautions] this summer I thought back to a piece I wrote for AOPA many years ago on recovery from trauma. I have included the article below. My hope is that as you get back in the airplane you will seriously consider a mental health checklist in addition to the checklist for the airplane you will be piloting.


Bouncing Back A psychotherapist’s guide for pilots

It was a beautiful day in the Columbia River Gorge. Hood River Airport is located in a picturesque valley, surrounded by mountains. A pilot was in his backyard garden enjoying the sunshine. He heard an airplane engine start to sputter, then quit, and listened to the sound of a loud impact in the neighboring vineyard. He jumped the fence and raced to the crash scene. There he found an aircraft nose down between the rows of red grapes. A quick glance in the cockpit revealed his deepest fear: the loss of a life.

As a psychotherapist who specializes in recovery from trauma or traumatic loss, I saw this pilot in my office four days later. “I am having a hard time. I keep hearing the engine quit, then the sound of the crash. I keep seeing the wreckage in my mind, over and over again. I run to him, but I know it is too late. He was still warm. I held him in my arms until the paramedics came.” When I asked him how often the movie is playing in his head, he said it was about 20 times per day. He had disturbed sleep, lost his appetite, and felt very hopeless about the intense flashbacks.

Over the course of our work together, I was able to help him understand how the brain reacts to trauma, and how professional care could speed recovery. In the end my client understood that while he was seeing the movie in his head hundreds of times, the pilot who perished only experienced it once.

Exposure to trauma

We all experience trauma in our lives, and as pilots, with medical certificates at risk, how we deal with it can be especially important. After exposure to a traumatic event, most people go through four distinct stages. The first is shock—a sense of disbelief or cognitive fogginess. During this stage a survivor may experience flashbacks, or mental movies of the event. Let’s also surmise that the person watched the news, listened to audio, saw photos, and viewed video of the event—thus re-exposing himself to the initial trauma. The re-exposure to the brain is essentially the same as the initial exposure. Should the person not get appropriate care, especially in the weeks or months after the event, an anxiety disorder such as post-traumatic stress disorder could develop.

Next comes a return to a “feeling” state and also a time to tell the story. When I worked at the Vietnam Vet Center, my supervisor—a combat vet and a psychotherapist—said, “Every trauma survivor has a story to tell and retell, and it is in the retelling that the healing is found.”

The third stage is when a person’s energy typically rebounds and a sense of focus develops. This energy could take the form of volunteerism, donating time and money, contact with rescuers, or helping other survivors.

Finally, reintegration must take place. A person must accept life on life’s terms now. Meaning is incorporated in life, in absence of what they lost. This is a time where we hear, “I have a new lease on life,” or “Life is precious.”

How does this apply to our ability to pilot an aircraft? One study says that intellectual power is decreased 50 to 90 percent when you are in the midst of the first stage. It is important not to make big decisions at that time. When we perform a preflight on our aircraft before launch, we are careful to consider all the aircraft systems. The effects of exposure to trauma cannot be underestimated. In our go/no-go decision, we should carefully reflect on our emotional health and how that will affect the flight. After all, we want to be able to fly the airplane instead of it flying us.

Pre-Flight Checklist

Here are some simple ways to put you and your emotional health on the pre-flight checklist, as well as some ideas on when to get support if needed.

Mood: Think back over the past week. Rate your mood on a scale of one to five, with one being the lowest, and five being a happy mood. What is your average? Has anyone told you that you look tired, depressed, or nervous? Sometimes our spouse or families are our greatest mirrors—we might not see our mood, but to them it is written all over our faces.

Sleep: Have you been sleeping well? The average person in a lab setting will sleep a six- to seven-hour stretch and take a one- to two-hour nap in the afternoon. Think back and check whether you have had any difficulties falling or staying asleep. Deep, restorative sleep typically happens well into an uninterrupted sleep cycle. Think about performing a go-around on every approach—when sleeping we simply cannot get down to Delta if the cycle is continually disrupted.

Energy: Has your get up and go, got up and went? Do you find yourself drinking coffee or energy drinks just to get through the day? Some pilots find they have too much energy and are unable to relax into a healthy focus. Between the tortoise and the hare, somewhere in the middle is the most efficient.

Anxiety and Worry: Someone once told me that worry is interest on a debt we don’t yet owe. An interesting study on worry shows that it can be healthy in small doses. Worry is a high-brain function—one that can help us sort through possibilities and strategies. Too much worry shuts down the function and we can find ourselves in a state: fight, flight, or freeze. Thirty minutes of worry once per week is effective. How many minutes this week have you racked up?

Concentration and Focus: Particularly important for the pilot in command is the ability to concentrate and stay focused. If you are noticing that your mind is wandering or you are distracted by worry, it might be best to keep yourself and the aircraft on the ground.

Sex drive: This might seem a strange item to have on your personal checklist, but a person’s sex drive can be indicative of emotional health. A lack of desire can suggest a mood problem.

Appetite: Does your favorite food taste good to you? Are you eating for comfort or to excess? Healthy food is fuel for the brain and the body. Make sure that you do not fly without fuel onboard.

Bumper sticker: If you had to summarize your attitude about life to fit on a bumper sticker, what would yours say? Is your bumper sticker upbeat and optimistic, or doubtful and negative?

When to get some “dual”

As a practicing psychotherapist and trauma survivor myself, I have come to believe in getting some couch time when you need support. The addition of the pandemic, isolation, uncertainty and lack of currency necessitates a closer look at your check list.  If we do not take care of our mental health, it might end up taking care of us. Think of a licensed counselor as an advisor, or life coach. It truly is a gift to be able to talk with someone you trust about things that you might keep from others. Sometimes my clients think that they can tell me something that I have not heard before. That is simply not the case. We all have many of the same core insecurities, wounds, and doubts. The difference is in how you deal with them.


Recently I was flying a large turbine aircraft with a more powerful engine than I was accustomed to. When I was about 50 miles out, I began a descent, thinking about each thing that I was going to do next. As I began the approach I thought, “I am going to fly this airplane and make it do what I want it to do.” Imagine if I were instead plagued by doubt, anxiety, or insecurity, or maybe I did not sleep well the night before. Who would be PIC—the airplane, or me? Make sure that when you are in the left seat you are flying the airplane. The only way to do that is to consider yourself on your personal checklist.

If you want or need help, reach out. Most insurance companies are offering free or low-cost counseling visits virtually.  Let’s make our return to the skies as safe, joyful and fun as possible.


 

2.Czeisler  MÉ, Lane  RI, Petrosky  E,  et al.  Mental health, substance use, and suicidal ideation during the COVID-19 pandemic: United States, June 24-30, 2020.   MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep. 2020;69(32):1049-1057.

 

Jolie Lucas makes her home on the Central Coast of CA with her mini-Golden, Mooney. Jolie is a Mooney owner, licensed psychotherapist, and commercial pilot. Jolie is a nationally-known aviation presenter and aviation writer. Jolie is the Region 4 Vice President of the California Pilots Association. She is the 2010 AOPA Joseph Crotti Award recipient for GA Advocacy. Email: [email protected] Web: www.JolieLucas.com Twitter: Mooney4Me

Aircraft lessons learned during a Polar Circumnavigation

Flying Citizen of the World to the South Pole and then the North Pole can create stresses on the aircraft that it was never designed to endure. Furthermore, taking a stock aircraft and modifying it in over 50 ways and hoping all those systems will work in perfect harmony for 8 months and 23 days over 26,000 nautical miles is total insanity. But somehow, we did it. Along the way, we learned a lot about what a 1983 Gulfstream Turbine Commander is really capable of when supported by some of the most talented and skilled mechanics, engineers and aviation enthusiasts. Below I’ve shared the most important of these lessons in hopes that you will be able to operate your aircraft in the safest and most reliable way possible.

Be protective of your plane

Before anyone puts a wrench to my airplane, I want to make sure that they are in the mental state to focus 100 percent on the job at hand and have lots of experience. If they are dealing with a major life event or anything that will distract them, then they need to resolve their issues first. Pilots must be in a good mental state of mind to fly, so why shouldn’t the person who you are trusting to keep your machine running over oceans, mountains, in the dark, and in bad weather not have the same requirements? I know the aviation industry says the most likely cause of flying accidents or incidents is pilot error, but I would disagree. New mechanics today are taught component replacement not the critical thinking skills like diagnosing and the repair of problems.

Critical aircraft components fail regularly

If you think you will be lucky and never experience a major component failure in flight then you are in for a few surprises. Airplanes are machines and all machines eventually fail. In fact, the more we ask from these systems the shorter their lifespan. With just 2,000 hours flying time I’ve had engines, avionics, hydraulics, props, environmental systems, tires, fuel tanks, batteries, and even windows fail at critical moments. Using the very best mechanics and equipment money can buy didn’t stop it from happening as well.

The thing that surprised me in preparing for my flight was that new parts could fail as well. I experienced this test-flying my new high-tech environmental system at 34,500 feet. I lost pressurization when the turbo charger blew out with just six hours of life on it. The problem was eventually traced to a sound resonance issue the designer/installer didn’t detect during the test flights.

Install multiple redundant systems

As I watched my flight management systems, attitude heading and references systems, and autopilot fail while flying over the North and South Poles, the importance of having backups never became more important. Redundancy and not becoming attached to any one piece of gear for any critical phase of flight can save your life. Luckily, different types of backup avionics systems are plentiful and relatively inexpensive today. With just an L3Harris ESI 500 with battery backup, an iPad, and an Icom handheld radio, you can pretty much fly your aircraft if you lose the rest of your panel. Having these independent backup systems allows you to troubleshoot when things get difficult.

Go high-tech and low-tech

Technology offers us so many advantages but let’s not forget about our heavier, older, and oftentimes rock-solid steam gauges. I have both in all the aircraft I fly and while it makes for a busier panel that may not look as cool as all glass, you are covered in an emergency. Additionally, just about any avionics shop in the world can change out old-school steam gauges.

In preparation for the Polar Circumnavigation of the Citizen of the World, we reinstalled a directional gyro that was crucial to navigation over both poles as well as an ADF that is required for flight in Europe. Both of these systems likely came with the airplane when it was built back in 1983.

Planning your flight may be the most critical component

Every minute you spend on the ground planning out your flight—and responses to critical issues that can come up during the flight—can save your life. When you are on the ground and thinking calmly, and not under stress, is when you will do your best planning. Spend extra time reviewing your approach plates, writing down the frequencies you will use, studying the weather, selecting alternates, and thinking about the “What if’s?”

When I was in Madagascar two days before departure, I spent time reviewing the weather patterns in this area of the world. I saw the winds starting to swirl between the mainland and the island. It was the beginning of a cyclone and caused me to leave a day early which saved my airplane and possibly my life.

During moments of crises focus on what is working

When I was flying over the North Pole without comms, autopilot, attitude heading and reference systems, or flight management systems, it would have been easy to fixate on the avionics that had gone offline and try to fix them. Instead, in a moment of clarity, I decided to search for what was working and use it. At the time, the iPad was working perfectly, I was above the cloud deck with a reference to the horizon, and the 1,150-horsepower Honeywell TPE 331 engines outfitted with five-bladed props were perfection in motion.

Check the work of your mechanics

I usually allow a half-day after a major maintenance period to look over the airplane with the mechanics. Take a wrench to the fittings that have been worked on. Run the systems, stress the aircraft. You are the pilot in command and the one who’s life is on the line. With the exception of High Performance Aircraft Inc. in San Diego, I don’t know any repair facility that takes the airplane up in the air after major work to test it for the customers. This alone is reason to pay a premium for the work that is done on your aircraft.

In my nine years of flying I’ve never had a truly perfect flight. If you think you did, I can almost guarantee that you missed something. For this reason, aviation is a great place to hone your skills, refine your aircraft, and learn valuable lessons about life on every flight. See your aircraft as a training ground, a place to grow your mind, body, and soul to better experience all the wonders that are available for you! In the process this will make your experience safer and more enjoyable knowing that you are prepared for anything that may come your way.

Robert DeLaurentis is a successful real estate entrepreneur and investor, pilot, speaker, philanthropist, and author of Zen Pilot and Flying Thru Life. A Gulf War veteran, Robert received his pilot’s license in 2009, completed his first circumnavigation in 2015, and is currently flying his second record-breaking circumnavigation from Pole to Pole in his aircraft “Citizen of the World,” on a global peace mission, “Oneness for Humanity: One Planet, One People, One Plane.” For more information, visit PoletoPoleFlight.com.

Decoding Transcendence

On most flights taken in the Cub, I come back a much happier person. However, on certain flights, I am in a transcendent state of happiness for much of the rest of the day afterward. I have often wondered why it was the case, initially ascribing my feelings as proportional to the majesty of the experience. Having taken the Cub to so many mountain ranges and countries has allowed for quite a number of tremendous experiences, which makes it easy to compare how one flight might be old hat whereas another could be something that left me nearly speechless.

Hanging around the Alps has complicated the assumption about the relationship. The scenery is generally world class no matter what the specific flight is like, though sometimes I am merely happy, and other times I am utterly transcendent as described above. I tried to explain it away as an issue with novelty, as I am more prone to stay within 50 miles of the airfield as the Alps are filled with more terrain than one knows what to do with. Was I tiring of seeing similar things?

That theory went out the window when the pandemic made the world smaller. Repeated flights over similar areas are actually increasing in majesty, even though the reality of the pursuit of novelty could be argued either way. While it is possible that I have changed my perspective, there is still a reality that some flights are utterly spectacular, whereas others are merely pleasant.

Since inversions are a regular part of European weather, particularly around terrain, I supposed that flying above the clouds might have something to do with it. It is an age-old sense of bliss, to be in massive terrain, with mountains poking up here and there, and a stratiform cloud deck below (ideally not entirely covering a safe glide range to the valley below). Separated from human society by the cloud layer, one finds himself soaring in the heavens, literally, with the inability to see human influence. It is nothing short of stupendous.

The problem with that theory was that I have had this differential of feeling on flights where clouds were not involved. While I can place a bookmark in the idea that soaring above the clouds constitutes something special, I think that there is more to the story as evidenced by my experience.

The next theory that I had is a more significant one. Aviation has many elements where we often find in magazines and other pilot communications something to the effect of “only with aviation can you see…” where the item in question is some sort of resplendent experience. I find that those experiences can be grouped into two main categories: the sheer majesty of being in the air, and the speed that aviation affords. To fly any kind of airplane and change states, countries, vegetation, or climate zones in orders of magnitude faster than a car is something that we clearly cherish in an aircraft. At the same time, “low and slow” Cub flying is cherished equally as much (if not more, depending on who is rendering the opinion). “Low and slow” is the embodiment of the majesty of being in the air, irrespective of the purpose behind it.

With a pokey old Cub, it is very hard to experience the theory of going anywhere fast. If it is Kansas, then one might as well drive. In the mountains, it is a mixed signal as the Cub can certainly beat a car, sometimes by a wide margin. The world on one side of a mountain range is often different than that of another, so some mix of the two can happen in such an occasion.

I thought I had the problem solved when I figured this reality out. Since I have been flying around mountains for the majority of the last 7 years in this airplane, I have had plenty of opportunities to experience this phenomenon. As the mountain ranges have gotten steeper and taller, the world on the other side has grown significantly more different, including now often meaning that it is a different country on the other side.

It took a few recent flights to furnish some clarity. Not only did I fly over mountains, into other countries, and into what felt like other worlds, I also landed somewhere else. COVID-19 has accentuated a problem that I knew had shown up when I came to Europe: I am far less likely to land at an airport that is not my home base (wherever that happens to be) if I am in Europe compared to the United States.

The opportunity to shut down the engine, step out, take in the scenery, and let the reality of where I stand sink in is one that contributes greatly to the sense of transcendence which remains in my psyche long after the flight has completed. Something about merely flying over to the other side of the range and then turning back, even if it is a full tank three-hour flight, is not the same as the silence that comes from a parked airplane. This reality held true in the semi-arid regions of Spain, where mountains may have only been incidental to the flight at hand. Something about landing elsewhere makes it all sink in.

So, the question becomes, how much has my flying changed since I came to Europe? I did some gymnastics with my logbook and tallied total hours, by year, where the entry included “Local” as the destination compared to those where it did not. Some simple division furnishes the percentage of local flights, where I return to home base compared to a flight where I landed elsewhere. I did not differentiate between the FAA definition of “cross country”; I merely added total hours of the flight if it included going to or coming from a landing at another airport. The chart is not my total flying career, but basically the point at which I became active again and acquired the Cub.

The results are quite interesting: 43% of flight hours in the United States started and stopped at the local airport, whereas 68% in Europe did so. The underlying reasons are pretty simple (to me): there is more paperwork and aggravation to coordinate a flight elsewhere, so I do not do it as much. To make matters more complex, the pandemic has added additional layers to daily life, which means that 90% of my flights in 2020 have been local.

Motivational incentives are lined up to the contrary. I am not bumming around my grandfather’s grass strip in an area that I lived since I was born, nor I am floating around over the Piedmont of North Carolina, which is relatively repetitive. I am in a foreign continent filled to the brim with things to see and do and yet I still find myself motivated to fly locally more than ever. I think that reality, coupled with the added layer of pandemic restrictions, made some recent landings elsewhere stand out entirely. Flying took on a more transcendent dimension, merely by making concrete on a mental level the magnitude that aviation affords. The freedom is immense and hard to quantify, when we have a chance to use it.

 

Garrett Fisher is an aerial adventure photographer, having photographed some of the most rugged and wild terrain in America from his 1949 Piper PA-11. After living in Germany with the Cub, he recently moved to the Spanish Pyrenees to continue the flying adventure. He has published six aerial photography books covering the Colorado Rockies, Wyoming, high terrain in the Southeast, and the Outer Banks, with more US and European books in the pipeline. He blogs regularly about his flights at www.garrettfisher.me.
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