I have been thinking a lot about what seems like a high mortality rate in the air show circuit this year -- and other related aerobatics musings. I talked at great lengths with some of the best aerobatic pilots in the world last week, and I just wanted to post some observations. There is, in fact, a specific airplane I fear may be next.
Look at the specifics of the accidents all you want, but there are a few issues I keep coming back to. The experienced people get bitten by one, the less experienced get bitten by another. Maybe there’s some overlap, but then again, maybe not.
The first observation is that aerobatics is an extreme sport, so “safety” is something of an illusion. Yes, the number of aerobatic fatalities has declined year to year in recent history. But I fear that trend may stop or even reverse itself. Top-end aerobatic airplanes are supremely capable things, and only a small percentage of pilots in the world can use their full capabilities. That being the case, I think it’s also the case that many pilots get in over their head attempting to best the airplane. Instead, it bests them.
Aerobatic training is hard to come by, and those that provide it typically stack maneuvers on top of maneuvers to give the student full exposure to the envelope covered by the course. I think many, many students drink from the firehose and then promptly get themselves into trouble when they misapply what they learned or leave out a crucial step. It calls to mind a pilot in a Pitts who botched a hammerhead and went into an inverted spin. She stomped anti spin rudder, forgetting that when inverted it was pro-spin rudder.
One of the truly difficult parts of aerobatics is knowing when you’re qualified to start experimenting with new maneuvers on your own. It’s unrealistic to say “never,” so what you’re left with is the need to be able to get yourself out of jams. That means advanced spin training – and not just a handful of one-turn spins from an intentional upright stall. Before tackling aerobatics, you should be confident you can recover the airplane from any combination of attitude and airspeed. Yet in a goal-oriented training program in which the instructor (or student) aims to cover 15 maneuvers in 10 flights, spins get the short shrift.
Finally, when it comes to air shows, the pilots are being victimized by the desensitization of the crowd to aerobatics – which leads to ever more extreme shows. One old, bold air show pilot said he tried to never leave himself without an out. Then he got a new airplane and inserted a new maneuver that did not have an out. One mechanical hiccup and the airplane crashed. He survived, but retired from air show flying.
Some existing acts – and I put Jimmy Franklin’s and Bobby Younkin’s show into this category – use maneuvers that, essentially, have no outs. In the case of the Masters of Disaster, a look at the old promotional video on the web site shows them going belly-to-belly twice. They basically ran the act as a combat engagement, yet they lost sight of the fundamental rule of “lose sight, lose fight.” And they joked about their close calls after the shows, according to one person I talked to. Another current act operates at high angles of attack and low airspeed at a very, very low altitude. Again, no out. This pilot is living on borrowed time. Is the public demanding this extremism? Look at the crowds that show up for the Red Bull races and you have your answer.
This rambles a bit more than I’d like, but I’m trying to get my arms around this thing as well. Air show flying (and aerobatics in general) is certainly more dangerous than knocking around the pattern on a calm sunny morning. And when you’re learning – which can be said about pretty much EVERY aerobatic pilot – resist the temptation to take shortcuts or push yourself at an uncomfortable pace.
“It’s hard. Of course it’s hard. If it was easy everyone would do it.” – Tom Hanks in “A League of Their Own”
