Now, as far a can remember, a bounce would normally occur if either:

1. your mainwheels  hit before your speed has reduced sufficiently close to the stall for a smooth rollout to occur, or
2. the landing surface is rough and your undercarriage isn’t compliant and damped (I’m thinking Cessna 150/172 cartspring here)

Both of the above would be exacerbated if your angle of attack increased just after the mainwheels touched the ground.

A balloon on the other hand might occur if either:

1. you flare a bit too much and too early, or
2. a gust gives you a sudden increase in lift just when you don’t want it.

In either case, if you take no remedial action the outcome is likely to be a rough landing at best or damage to the aircraft (and maybe you and your passengers) at worst.

But… what set me thinking was the advice given. As far as I can recall, it was to hold the control column where it was and apply a burst of power. The object being to arrest the sudden increase in rate of descent that normally follows a bounce or balloon.

This is certainly along the lines of what I was taught when flying nosewheel aeroplanes like the C150, C172, Rallye and Pup that I’ve got in my log. In fact, I can recall using this technique on more than one occasion – my home airfield had grass runways and was near the coast (hence prone to gusty wind).

The big BUT comes when I look at the earliest entries in my log which were for the venerable  Auster Autocrat – a tailwheel layout. These were lovely old aeroplanes to fly, with a real stick and something approaching a throttle quadrant rather than a mock column and something resembling a plunger sticking out of the instrument panel!

However, the rubber bungee “springing” on the undercarriage and the tailwheel layout seemed to make them much more prone to bouncing on landing unless you got the flare/round out absolutely right. The technique taught to me for this type of aircraft did not necessarily involve a burst of throttle and it certainly did not involve holding the stick where it was in pitch just before the bounce. I was told in no uncertain terms that it was vital to check forward on the stick briefly to avoid entering a stall. The consequences would have been a very hard landing and possibly nosing over.

So, the cautionary bit of this little tale is to always consider the advice you are given in the appropriate context. And better still, ask someone who really knows why you are asking and what you are going to fly. In other words… your instructor.

May you walk away from all of your landings.

1. Aviate
2. Navigate
3. Communicate

in that order, as my old instructor used to say!

Anyway, here’s a little story about that which I found the other day

…………………………

Original Title : Almost Upside Down At Night
 
During your flight training, there may be times when you get the notion that your instructor is mean or does not know what they are talking about. Perhaps not in an obvious way, but it’ll occur.

The flight I’m going to talk about goes from Mesa Falcon Field to Wickenberg, Arizona. I have personally put this flight in my syllabus for lots of reasons. I have got into many discussions with instructors who worked for me about this route. Several of them refused to do the flight and instead ended up taking the their student down to Tucson. Now, following a massive lit-up road between 2 bright major towns does not really reveal you to the genuine eventualities that may occur on a night cross-country. Yes, you need to ensure the instructor knows where he’s going to land in the event of an engine failure, but you must be on a flight that will get you into a little bit of difficulty if you are not listening.

Back to my story. I am going to call the student John. You know that I am fully against using all these high-tech things for personal pilot coaching and even instrument ratings. Even then, a difficult situation will be a battle between many parts of your brain at the same time. John called me in the afternoon about his night flight. We determined the time, and at the end of the call, John stated that he had just gotten his new Garmin 95 latest-and-greatest GPS device and asked if he could bring it along. Before we strode out of the office, out came that glossy new Garmin box. Fred, you want to check this out. This is the new Garmin 95, top-of-theline, latest-and-greatest. This was back in 1996. Garmin was a no-name back then and was just getting into the market.

‘Please, please, please can we take it with us?’ After all of the begging, I ultimately gave in. Deep in my mind somewhere, I had a little smile, and a voice just said, “Okay”. Before John even started his pre-flight, he set up his new Garmin 95 on the control column. I knew right then that we were in for a good time! I told John that he couldn’t turn it on till we got out of Phoenix airspace, which is right where it starts to get nice and dark. He agreed, “Okay, no problem”. We took off and headed west as planned. John was right on the money with all his checkpoints and times. Flight plan opened at the right time. He was getting an A+ at this stage of the ball game.

Finally, we got about 5 miles west of Deer Valley airfield, where it starts to get nice and dark. John looked at me with those puppy eyes and asked, “Am I allowed to turn it on yet?” at about that point. I just looked at him and said, “Yes”. The small voice in my head spoke to me again, “Now it’s time for the actual lesson to begin”. John turned on the new best present to humankind. The screen came on, and he said,”Look, Fred, isn’t this great? It tells you everything!” The tiny voice in my head announced,”Yeah. Right. It tells you everything except what your one job in a plane is”.

John kept playing with his new toy. I learned back in 1989 that there are occasions when the flight instructor’s job is to clam up and just let the student carry on. He was following his track on the screen and was okay, but I knew that at some point, it was going to distract him from his number one job.

I knew now the giant lesson had started, so I just sat there. Slowly, his altitude started to go up and down. Not much at first, but I knew it was just going to deterioriate. I looked at John, and his head was down looking right at the GPS. In reality, the time-frame of this whole lesson was doubtless less than a minute. John continued to look down and announced,”Hm, I can’t find the screen I am looking for”. I just sat there and didn’t say anything.

Slowly, he started a right turn, just a few degrees bank, heading right into the mountains. The plane started to slowly lose altitude as the right turn started to get steeper. There wasn’t any horizon at all, so John had no idea of what was going on. Fortunately, he was one of the scholars that took my aerobatic option before solo, so he was acquainted with extreme unusual attitudes. Slowly but surely, the airplane had entered the feared graveyard spiral at cruise power setting. The aeroplane kept going into a steeper bank. If it had been daytime, I might have let him get the wrong way up, but not at night. “Anything wrong?” John looked up, and the string of four-letter words started to flow. He got the aeroplane in hand. Power back wings level and nose level. However, he was still heading on the swiftest path to meet God, right into the mountains some miles north of the dimly lit road I normally plan as my emergency landing spot. I asked him,”What are you able to see in front of you?”. He answered with,”Nothing.” I asked, “So that implies?” I got the answer, “I am flying right into the ground”. That answer was just about correct. with his new heading, he was flying right into the hills. Since we lost about 1,500 feet, our altitude was perfect for the large smack. We needed to find some light, start climbing, and head in the other direction.

John got the aeroplane in order, turned the GPS off, and we had an uneventful flight to Wickenberg and then back home to Falcon Field.

When we got back on the ground, John said, “I think I’m going to need to be taught how to fly before I fret about that GPS”. He also asked for some night strange perspective coaching. I also highly recommend this. So again, the essential lesson is to fly the airplane! John got distracted from that job by his little GPS. If you insist on using this stuff, ensure you understand how to use it, and do not try and learn it in the plane, particularly at night!

As far as disorientation goes, it can happen extremely quickly, and when it does, it’s not pleasant. It has occurred to me in solid instrument conditions. I had all my ratings, and it just took a short while before the blood pressure went down.

Just remember this essential check, which you should be able to copy at the bar when you’re about to fall on the floor:

Airspeed High (Or,”I Hear the Wind Hollering outside of the Plane”…

One   : Power Back
Two   : Wings Level
Three : Nose of the plane Level
Four  : when you have the airplane in hand, then bring the power back in, and get back to your altitude and heading

Airspeed Low…

One   : Nose Forward
Two   : Wings Level
Three : Once you’ve got the nose at descent attitute, then add power.

If you are out on a dark night, you’re going to be fighting that attitude indicator. Get some coaching on night unusual angles.

Then come back a fortnight later and do it again till you mechanically react, particularly after a little time has gone by.