The Gee-Wiz Factor: Flight Without Gravity

If you ask any pilot what the four forces of flight are, you are just about guaranteed to get the right answer--Lift, Thrust, Weight, and Drag. I think most pilots have a basic understanding of how these forces work in partnership and against each other to make flight a reality. Outside of this fact though, myriads of other factors take greater precedent and the forces fall back far into our thinking. Basically, in short, most people are not flying around actively thinking about how the four forces are affecting them in the moment. 

However, from the vantage point of the right seat, I’ve had the opportunity to spend plenty of time watching students wage war with and against these forces. In doing so, I’ve gotten to see some incredible realities that I think could be of some use to the interested pilot. To dig into these forces of flight, let's take a somewhat backwards approach by imagining flight in four different ways and each time “turning off” one of the four forces. Through these absences, I think we can gain an immense amount of intuition about how each force works when it is present.

Let’s start our thought experiment by magically flipping the switch on gravity. Imagine if you will, a giant switch on top of a high mountain in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Through this switch, gravity for the entire planet can be turned on and off. Since no one has ever managed to make it past the many flotillas of the world’s navies which guard this mountain, only astronauts and roller coaster riders have ever experienced zero-g before. The vast majority of people and governments are vehemently opposed to ever flipping the switch. All of life's infrastructure, commerce, and safety depend on gravity. Now let's say in the middle of the night, some terrorist hell-bent on causing destruction makes it through the security ring around Gravity Mountain, climbs to the top, and with the evilest of evil laughs, turns off the earth’s gravity. 

As you can probably guess, the world descends into chaos. However, we aren’t interested in all of the geopolitical, financial, or safety concerns. We are just pilots who want to go fly. The biggest question in our mind revolves around our airplanes. Can they still fly? Let’s follow along with our desperate pilot friend as he attempts a takeoff in zero-gravity.

Despite all of the obvious difficulties of floating checklists, and weightless weather reports, our friend has finally made it into the cockpit and is ready to start. To his surprise, the engine fires right up. His local airport is intent on keeping customers and has installed a magnetic tarmac and runway so that airplanes can move around on the ramp with a semblance of normalcy. Taxiing into position, he holds the brakes, guns the engine, and pulls back slightly on the yoke. The nose easily lifts and with a wave to the magnetism controller, the magnetic runway is turned off and he releases the brakes. The airplane leaps into the air without any ground roll at all since there is no gravity to oppose the upward tug of thrust.

Our pilot quickly discovers that any tugging on the yoke once airborne starts a loop. To travel in a straight line, he must neutralize the yoke so that the wing doesn’t create any lift. Since there's no gravity to oppose the wing, it is only used to bend the flight path in a new direction. Loosed from the burdens of gravity, our pilot pulls back on the yoke until the nose is pointed straight up. His old steam gauge VSI rapidly pegs out and the new digital VSI reads a staggering 8,600 feet per minute which is equal to his airspeed of 85 knots. Reaching nine thousand feet, he pushes the nose over with only his seatbelt keeping him restrained. He shoves the throttle to the firewall and is beaming with expectation. With gravity off, he should be able to go as fast as he wants, right? Sadly his Cessna, which used to be capable of 100 knots, pegs out at only 120 knots. Despite gravity being turned off, drag is still in effect. His speed boost has come from the lack of Induced Drag. Since Induced Drag is a direct by-product of lift, he doesn’t have to pay this penalty when flying a straight line because the wing isn’t lifting. However, when he decides to pitch to a new line or make a turn, the Induced Drag comes right back to bite him and slow him down.

Now, our normally stall-wary pilot decides to see what happens at stall speed. He pulls the power back and eventually shuts the engine down. The noisy rush of air over the cockpit slowly weakens as the airspeed drops. Eventually, his airplane comes to a complete standstill, high above the earth. He never had to touch the yoke and the stall warning never went off. In that moment, he got it--the stall was a result of him asking too much from the wing. When he got slow under normal gravity, he had to make up for the loss of airflow by bending the air which he did have, harder and harder until it couldn’t make the turn around the wing, and the airplane stalled. To test this, he fires back up and gets going again. He gets up to 100 knots and pulls on the yoke harder and harder. His airplane goes into a tighter and tighter loop until he gets the yoke all the way back and the wing stalls. The airplane wobbles and bobbles until he lets go just enough and the loop recomences just as before. He has learned a valuable lesson--the yoke, elevator, and wing can only be used to bend his flight path only so tight. 

Now it's time to experiment with the ailerons. With his new-found enthusiasm, he cranks the yoke all the way over to the left. The airplane starts rolling around and around the longitudinal axis without end as long as he keeps the yoke over. The farther he twists the yoke, the faster the airplane rolls. All throughout this though, the airplane keeps right on along the straight line of flight already established. After more than a few rolls, our pilot friend starts to get dizzy and stops rolling. He decides it's time to try a turn. He rolls the yoke to the left and as the airplane approaches thirty degrees of bank, he applies the opposite aileron to stop the roll. The yoke is neutral now but nothing is happening like it used to. Before, he would just roll to a bank angle and the airplane would turn itself. Not so now. He gives the yoke a tug and instead of just turning, he starts a loop thirty degrees off the vertical. His heading is changing as well as his pitch. He gets back to the level flight somehow and keeps experimenting. He finds that the only way to make a turn without changing altitude is to roll to ninety degrees and then pull. He once again makes a loop but this time it is only horizontal without changing altitude. Before, with gravity, the wing was already supporting the airplane’s weight and when banked to the side some of the lift started the turn, and the rest kept supporting the weight.

Our friend now turns his thoughts from the amazing world of gravity-free flight to getting back down to earth safe and sound. His palms start to sweat; now he wants gravity to help him get back down. Thankfully, there is no wind and the air is calm giving our pilot the best shot at returning to earth. He very carefully works his way down to traffic pattern altitude and sets up on a ten-mile final. The closer he gets, the more he throttles back until at only a mile out, his airspeed is down to a mere twenty miles per hour. Crossing over the runway fence he gently eases down to twenty feet and is down to five miles per hour. The final few feet to the runway are agonizingly slow but thankfully he finds he can very carefully get closer to the runway by gently lowering the nose, descending, and then levelling off again. Two feet off the runway at two miles per hour, the magnetism controller turns the runway back on and he gently settles to earth with a thud. He taxies back to his hangar and ties his plane down tighter than he ever has before, excited to fly another day.

The Gee-Wiz Factor: The Captain of the Ship

Today’s pilots are facing an epidemic. Thankfully, it’s not the one you are thinking of that starts with C and ends with 9. Unfortunately, this disease is much more elusive and insidious and it involves the brain. Let’s take a look back in time and see how long this bug has been around.

Going back to the early days, aviators struggled mightily against frail and ornery machines made of little more than wood, fabric, and crude cast-iron. To join the birds and return again to earth in one piece was a major accomplishment requiring fortitude and uncanny intuition. The ones who made it to old age, were the survivors. Only a few years later, military and airline men struggled against inexplicable weather patterns and cantankerously complex engines as commerce demanded airplanes be put to use in covering greater and greater distances. A lack of information both before boarding and in motion made for some “doomed if you do, doomed if you don’t” decisions. Today’s aviators are currently struggling with the exponential increase of complexity in areas of augmentation, navigation, and communication. What every pilot of every generation has struggled with though, is how to think and use the information he does have effectively. 

Let’s take a step back and consider an analogy that might help us connect a pilot to the duties he performs. Imagine you are on a destroyer steaming across the chilly cloud-strewn Atlantic in January, 1942. What positions were manned on this ship? From a bird’s eye view we might only see the Officer of the Watch, clothed in a drenched rain coat, his eyes glued to his binos searching the horizon. He is the ship's eyes. Moving into the bridge, we will find a navigator bent over a table, straining through thick glasses to figure numbers and check his course line on the chart. The helmsman stands at the ship’s wheel; his feet are throbbing in pain as he is in the sixth hour of his watch. The rolling and pitching seas are keeping him busy maintaining course. One deck below the bridge, a radio operator strains to catch the words of another ship through the stormy static bombarding his ears. Far below and aft, a greasy mechanic battles the hulking and belching diesels which turn the ship’s screws. Each of these officers and sailors play a critical role in the ship’s safe passage, but by themselves they don’t create an effective crew.

Consider though, the duty of the Captain on our ship. His career started off at the Naval Academy where he learned keys to delegation, leadership, and command. Through many tours at sea, he learned the jobs of every position onboard while also learning to lead larger and larger groups of sailors. Twenty years later, he has reached the pinnacle of his career--a ship of his own. His job now revolves entirely around crucial decisions; there is no manual labor. Most people hate to make decisions but that’s all he does now. He might ask himself, “Do I order an increase in power to get ahead of the storm which will burn extra fuel? Do I go around the north or south of the storm? Am I aware of all the contacts the Officer of the Watch has reported?” Pilots are in the same proverbial boat and we not only have to keep our Captain hat on but also switch between all of the other duties of the ship incredibly quickly. In effect, the entire crew of a sailing vessel must live within the head of a pilot.

Even though most airlines don’t use the term “Captain” anymore, the leadership, multitasking, and decision-making abilities commonly bred through military officer training are exactly what flying organizations need in pilots. If they didn’t, any monkey could do the job of a pilot. First and foremost, we need leaders who can make logical, educated decisions under pressure in the cockpit. If this is the ultimate goal of what a competent pilot is to be, we should evaluate how we train pilots from day one to ensure we are meeting that intent.

Consider the reality of the typical first lesson a student pilot faces. Before the airplane has even moved, Radio Operator’s School has begun with calls to tower. Taxiing begins and helmsman training starts in earnest just to stay on the taxiway. A minute or two after takeoff, the helmsman is saturated just keeping his nose out of the blue. He doesn’t even have a clue which direction the airplane is travelling so any navigation training on where the airplane is relative to the airport is completely lost. A few turns, and maybe a stall or two will ring out the helmsman to the point of mental exhaustion. When the nose gets too low, he must race through the bowels of the ship, put on his coveralls, and coax the engine back off the redline. Returning to port is a welcome reprieve for our new student. Sadly, the only position not covered was that of Captain. Applying the Law of Primacy to our first lesson, shows we have reinforced important yet lesser duties over the few that matter most--situational awareness, decision-making, and resource management. In short, through the sin of omission, we have downplayed the importance of the most critical skills a pilot will ever use.

So, the next time you take a student out for their first flight, take on all of the extra duties and start with the student learning to be a Captain. Before starting engines, have the student ask you about completion of the flight plan, fuel planning, weight & balance, and risk analysis. While you taxi the airplane, talk about ensuring the proper taxiroute. Pose the question of what to do in a brake failure or collision situation. As you enter the runway, discuss wind awareness and crosswind inputs. As you switch frequencies to departure, make sure they know how important it is to be on the correct frequency. Before making a turn, ask your student what they should look for before dropping the wing. As you head for the practice area, discuss how important it is to be heading the right direction and the consequences of going the wrong way near restricted airspace. As you gently maneuver, discuss the importance of mentally keeping track of nearby traffic and obstructions. In preparation for slow flight, share the minimum maneuvering speed, and have the student warn you if you get too slow. Once it’s time to head back, give the student the choice of what airspeed to fly. Do they have enough gas to maintain high-cruise? Do they have enough time to listen to the weather and complete the checklist before arrival? As you get closer to the airport, discuss the importance of entering the pattern correctly and the dangers of improper entries. After the flight, quiz your student on what hazards were encountered and how they were avoided. Discuss the decisions they made and the factors that governed them. 

Consider now, your subsequent flights. Keep the overarching focus of each lesson on the primary duties of the Captain. Decision making, situational awareness, and risk management should be the first topics discussed in a debrief. When it’s time to learn a new skill, discuss how you will relieve the student of certain duties so that they can focus on building that one skill. Once the laboratory for that skill is complete, hand duties back over to them. For example, when it's time to do airwork, make sure you both know who is looking for traffic and obstructions, who is aware of the practice area boundaries, and who is handling the radios. Next time, we will discuss which duty is the second-most important onboard your ship and how to teach it.

As your student progresses, analyze their behavior to ensure the Cranial Captain is at his post and all of his crew are working together properly. If not, it's time to take the controls, let your student relax, and maybe crack a joke that the Watch-Officer needs to be court-martialed.

Clear Skies and Tailwinds,

David