Flying for the most part is an enjoyable experience providing a wonderful break from the daily grind of earthbound life. However, the gods of flight do not take kindly to decisions based more upon self-assured hubris than a sober assessment of available options.
Part of the problem is that the more proficient you get, the more you are apt to press on despite aircraft, weather or other issues. I call it the Overconfidence Beast, and it can bite you in a heartbeat. Add to that an unrealistic expectation to get the job done regardless of circumstances, and you have a recipe for disaster.
One of my first experiences with the Beast happened years ago during my Canadian Air Force days flying CF-104s in Germany. I was delivering a fellow pilot to a conference in northern Germany from our home base near the Swiss border, flying a venerable Lockheed T-33 “Thunderbird.” While VFR at home base, the destination forecast was endless drizzle and sullen nimbostratus up to 30,000 feet. The 45-minute outbound trip went without incident, and with my passenger safely delivered, I was headed back to home base, on the dials around 200 feet agl and climbing.
Then the fun began. I had noticed on the first leg that I had to cage the attitude indicator (AI) a couple of times in level flight, not an unusual step given the archaic nature of the instrument, but still something to be reckoned with. However, I was very proficient on the T-bird and really didn’t give it much thought.
Big mistake. The first sign of trouble during climbout at the normal 10-degree-up pitch attitude on the AI was my airspeed decaying rapidly from the standard climb speed of 250 KIAS. Something was amiss big time.
Then it struck me. The AI was precessing and giving false readings, and there was no standby to take its place. My actual pitch attitude was probably closer to 20 degrees than 10, and increasing. The emergency procedure was to disregard the AI and use the ASI for pitch control—decreasing airspeed meant too high a pitch attitude, increasing airspeed meant too low. The compass provided directional control by just keeping it steady through judicious aileron inputs.
At any rate, I managed to keep it all together climbing through 30,000 feet of dense cloud, during which I must have processed a couple gallons of adrenaline, finally getting “on top” and able to breathe normally again. Thankfully, the remainder of the trip home where it was still VFR was uneventful.
The thing that stuck with me most from that day was how my baseless self-confidence and goal fixation to return home had gotten me perilously close to big-time trouble for not getting the errant AI thoroughly checked on the ground.
Since then, I’ve always been watchful for the Overconfidence Beast lurking in the bushes, awaiting the opportunity to cloud my judgment. As the old adage goes, I’d rather be on the ground wishing I was in the air, than in the air wishing I was on the ground.
Have you encountered a situation or hazardous condition that yielded lessons on how to better manage the risks involved in flying? Do you have an experience to share with Aviation Safety’s readers about an occasion that taught you something significant about ways to conduct safer flight operations? If so, we want to hear about it.
We encourage you to submit a brief (500 words) write-up of your Learning Experience to Aviation Safety for possible publication. Each month, Aviation Safety publishes a collection of similar experiences sent to us by readers. Sharing with others the benefit of your experience and the lessons you learned can be an invaluable aid to other pilots.
You can send your account directly to the editor by e-mailing it to [email protected]. Put “Learning Experience Submission” in the subject line; add your name and daytime telephone number at the bottom of the e-mail.
Your report will be considered for publication in the Aviation Safety’s readers’ forum, “Learning Experiences,” and may be edited for style and length. Anonymity is guaranteed if you want it. No one but Aviation Safety’s editor is permitted access to the reports. Your name and telephone number are requested only so that the editor can contact you, if necessary.
While we can’t guarantee your submission will get published, we can guarantee that we’ll closely review and consider using it.
All Learning Experiences submissions become the property of Aviation Safety and may be republished.
