It might sound silly to highlight lighthouses on an aviation blog but pilots who fly on the coast know why they are important.

Lighthouses make for unmistakeable landmarks and are often used as Visual Reporting Points.

Also, they tend to be on the most scenic of locations (why is that?) and so I know I’m not the only one with dozens of photographs of beautiful lighthouses looming over rough rock and crashing waves.

When I first flew to Guernsey, I fell in love with the Casquets, to a great extent because it was the most obvious visual reporting point I had ever seen: three towers perched on straggly rocks, a lighthouse clinging to sandstone reef. I wrote about the The Shipwreck of the Stella, a chilling maritime accident, made real by the fact that I’d seen the location and the memorial in the graveyard.

In my post, I wondered what it might be like to have been at the lighthouse, so close to where the ship went aground and yet not able to see a thing.

To my surprise, I got a very specific response.

I was a Keeper on Casquets Light House from 1984 until automation in 1989/90 and had read of the wrecking of the Stella. Having been on Casquets on many a foggy day/night with almost no sea visibility, I cannot imagine the horror on board the ship. It is reported that the keepers heard screams from a large number of people but saw nothing.

Gordon Partridge knows lighthouses. He spent 22 years working the lights and seen duty at 22 different stations, including some of my favourites: he worked both at the Needles and at the Isles of Scilly. He was the last lighthouse keeper at the Casquets, the last to leave up the ladder into the helicopter. Gordon studied Museum Curation while on the lights: Open University courses were funded by Trinity House. Now he regularly speaks on his experiences of Lighthouse Life.

To be inside a tall tower offshore lighthouse is quite an awesome experience, especially the first time! On Bishop Rock, west of the Scilly Isles, the tower is approximately 150 ft above sea. During the worst of the Atlantic weather, the sea crashes over the top; the structure shakes and bangs, crockery rattles, and the noise of the sea is like a loudly roaring lion!

When the sea hits and climbs, all goes dark inside as the daylight is interrupted. Such experiences only lead one to pay homage to those Victorian engineers who designed and built such structures. The walls are 15ft thick granite at the base, tapering to some 3ft at the higher levels; each stone is dovetail jointed (woodwork fashion) to its neighbour.

Before the extensive use of helicopters, reliefs were carried out by boat. This involved waiting for a “fair weather window opportunity” in order to effect. It was not uncommon to have to wait several weeks after having served an 8-week duty! Helicopters changed our lives so much! If I can I will forward you a photo of me being winched from a boat onto the Bishop Rock: a trip up of some 45 ft onto the landing!

It might all sound pretty awful but, once inside the tower with the coffee pot simmering on the Rayburn stove, it was cosy! To be in one’s bunk when all outside was hell was really snug!

Gordon has offered to answer more questions in the comments so if you are interested in the life of a lighthouse keeper, please ask away!

I read a lot of accident reports – most pilots do – in the hopes of learning more about flight and human factors and just maybe how to avoid ending up a statistic.

But there are some accidents that are simply sad, with no lesson to be learnt nor explanations that can help us to understand. This is, I think, one of those truly pointless accidents where, honestly, the pilot should not have been allowed to fly. I suppose at least he did not take anyone else with him. The primary information and blockquotes for this article are from the Air Accidents Investigation: Mooney M20B, G-JDIX.

The story starts in Austria in 2006 when Czech pilot Pavel Sedlacek learned to fly at Hohenhems in 2006 and received his Private Pilot’s Licence in June 2007. The PPL and his Class 2 medical certificate were valid at the time of the accident.

The pilot owned a Rallye (registration D-ECFX) which he kept at Hohenems in Austria near his home.

In August 2009, Sedlacek purchased a Mooney M20B, registration G-JDIX, at Old Buckenham Airfield. Prior to the purchase, he flew the Mooney with a local pilot at Old Buckenham who was not happy with his approaches.

The pilot’s general handling was described as being of a quite low standard. Compared to the Rallye that the pilot was used to, the Mooney approached the runway at a higher speed and with less drag (even with flaps extended), requiring greater attention to speed control to avoid landing too fast. The pilot reportedly used an incorrect technique which consistently resulted in fast approaches and long landings that were also remarked upon by onlookers.

In addition, concerns were raised regarding his safety (he flew from Germany to Old Buckenham with incomplete charts and without over-water safety aids) and the fact that he generally appeared nervous and agitated. The accident report includes a rather British reference to the fact that he was happy to speak freely to strangers about his personal family life, which would arouse no suspicion in the American Southwest where I grew up. At any rate, his handling of the aircraft raised concerns.

Dismissing the suggestion that he should fly with an instructor to become more familiar with the Mooney, he flew the plane alone to Hohenems in Austria.

In November 2009, the 65-year old was on a journey in the Rallye on his way from Bad Endorf in Germany to Hohenems when he suffered engine problems. The engine cut out completely and he brought it in to land in a field in Doren, Austria. The nose wheel ripped off in the landing and the plane was scrapped although the pilot was uninjured. Local press at the time stated that the engine failure was caused by icing in the fuel line or the carburettor. The Austrian accident report does not appear to be online.

The portable GPS unit recovered from the crash site of the Mooney in May 2010 showed route data and logs dating back to November 2009.

There were four logs pertaining to flight. There were three flights in the above Rallye in November culminating in this forced landing at Doren. The only other flight was a flight from Hohenems to Biberach Airport in Southern Germany on the 27th of February in 2010.

An airfield operator there described him as appearing confused on occasions and stated that he approached the wrong runway and then descended to land wheels-up: the operator warned him before touchdown.

The next flight was planned from Biberach to Old Buckenham in order to have maintenance carried out on the aircraft. A later inspection of the logbooks showed that the aircraft had undergone a 50-hour inspection in August 2009 at the time of the sale. The aircraft’s Certificate of Airworthiness had expired in February 2010.

On the 9th of May 2010, he loaded the plane with 106 litres of fuel. He prepared a flight plan to Old Buckenham but didn’t file it, nor did he notify HM Revenue & Customs and the UK Border control with his flight details as required by the UK AIP. Staff at Biberach Airport later filed the flight plan on his behalf. The flight plan listed the flight as 3 hours 30 minutes with a fuel endurance of 4 hours 20 minutes.

He aborted his initial take-off attempt but took off successfully on his second attempt at 12:26.

Four hours later, at 16:20, he contacted Old Buckenham A/G to request airfield details.

About 10 minutes after his initial call, the pilot called ‘DOWNWIND’ and then ‘finals ’. When the aircraft had not landed some minutes later, staff checked with Tibenham airfield (4.5 nm to the south-east) and learnt that the aircraft had landed there unexpectedly. Recorded data from the aircraft’s GPS navigation unit, which was recovered from the accident site, showed that the aircraft had not in fact made an approach to Old Buckenham, but had landed at Tibenham after first orbiting briefly to the south of the airfield.

He never contacted Tibenham and landed on Runway 33, which was out of use, across the prevailing wind and covered with glider launch cables. He approached at high speed and bounced several times, using 1,100 metres (3,600 feet) of the runway’s 1,250 metres (4,100 feet) length.

After parking at the clubhouse, the pilot spoke to several club members. They described him as being in a highly agitated, even distressed, state. He was sweating profusely, with sweat-soaked clothing. He was also very voluble, and talked of a number of things, including personal family issues which were obviously a source of concern to him. He was given a hot drink but did not eat anything.

I like the fact that someone got him a cuppa to calm him down. He explained that he had landed at Tibenham because he was concerned about the short runway at Old Buckenham. He claimed to have concerns about the brakes but did not seek any engineering assistance nor would he consider cancelling the final leg of his flight to Old Buckenham.

People who met with the pilot were concerned and thought he should not fly again in his condition. They encouraged him to delay the last stage of his flight, but the pilot was clearly keen to continue.

One person who met the pilot reacted quite adamantly to the implication that more should have been done to stop him flying.

FLYER Forums • View topic – AAIB report – G-JDIX

WHOA. …I was in the clubhouse. He WAS advised not to fly and he WAS offered help.

He made a bit of a recovery and insisted on flying because he said the plane HAD to go to Old Buck. Short of physically restraining him and risking being arrested for assault there wasn’t much anyone could do. So please don’t be second guessing on public forums. We all feel bad enough about this business.

A later analysis calculated that he had slightly less than 5 US gallons on fuel on board, about 19 litres. This would allow for 30 minutes flight without reserves. He did not enquire about fuel at Tibenham.

He was told that Runway 03 was in use and that gliding operations were in progress. The instructions were to taxi for Runway 03 and then contact launch control before take-off, all very straight-forward.

Instead, he taxied to out-of-use Runway 33. He did not make any radio calls and he did not appear to carry out any engine checks. At 16:59 he departed Tibenham and disappeared into the distance at about 1,000 feet agl.

The pilot contacted the Old Buckenham frequency again. He expressed concern again about his brakes and stated something about returning to Tibenham. The controller did not hear further from the pilot and contacted Tibenham to find out if G-JDIX hand landed there again. It hadn’t.

Bystanders spotted the aircraft flying low around 500-700 meters away from the Old Buckenham threshold although clearly not on the standard approach path. The plane then turned away from the airfield. One witness said he saw the plane pass close enough for the pilot to be clearly visible. He believed the engine was at near idle power but then increased markedly just before the plane dropped a wing and disappeared from view.

The GPS data showed the flight at 120 feet above ground level for the last two minutes of flight, with groundspeed falling to about 60 knots over the final 80 seconds.

By the time anyone reached the field, the plane was on fire.

Witnesses alerted the emergency services and went to the scene of the accident, which was in a field of young crops, a few hundred metres from a road. A fire had broken out and was accompanied by one or more small explosions. Although some paper documents were on the ground outside of the cabin, the cabin door itself was closed and the pilot was seen to be lying, apparently deceased, across the front seats. The fire quickly consumed much of the cabin area.

The plane was damaged in the fire but no “technical defects” were obvious: the rudder, elevator and aileron systems all appeared to be in working order. The propeller was found two metres from the main wreckage with one blade buried in the ground and cuts in the soil, leading to the conclusion that the propeller was probably rotating on impact. The report concludes that the damage and ground marks are consistent with a spin to the left.

The left wing held 10 litres of fuel. There was no fault found with the brakes.

The AAIB conclusion is chilling:

From eyewitness accounts, it is probable that the pilot became distracted from the task of landing his aircraft at nearby Old Buckenham (if indeed it was his intention to do so), which could easily have been reached had the aircraft turned towards it, rather than away. Instead, the pilot allowed the aircraft to become dangerously slow at very low height. The source of distraction was not identified: the low fuel state perhaps presents the most likely reason, but this could not be confirmed.

Given the pilot’s questionable state of fitness to safely act as the pilot of an aircraft on the day in question, no further meaningful analysis was possible.

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If you found this post interesting you might enjoy the following:

• Tipsy Nipper Crash Video
• How to Drown a Jet
• All I Need is the Air that I Breathe
• A Close Encounter with an Emu
• Biggin Hill Accident Report
• Alaska Airlines Flight 1866

I was going to write an essay this week but there have been so many interesting posts and photographs and games, I wasted the entire day on the Web instead of creating something new. So instead, I’ve collated my very favourites as a Flying Around the Web round-up to encourage you to waste your time as well.

Here are the links, with a warning: If you have any intention of being productive, stop reading right now!

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This Airbus 380 and contrail was filmed from cockpit of a Boeing 747 above the South China Sea. Hong Kong ATC notified the planes that the KLM Boeing would be flying within 1,000 feet of the Airbus and the KLM crew took the chance to make this film:

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Thank you to @tinyblob who sent me this great panoramic photography of 14 cockpits:

360 Cities – Panoramic Photography Blog » I Believe I Can Fly (14 Airplane Cockpits)

If you click through to the article, you’ll find that each image links through to an interactive version where you can look around to your hearts content.

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This photograph shows a Cessna 172 which flew into a Canadian home following an engine failure after take off. It’s hard to believe that the pilot hobbled away with only a broken ankle and no one else was injured. I’ve found versions all over the place but I’m pretty sure the original is by Glenn Steplock and so I’ve used the version with his attribution from Airliners.net although the email address registered with it isn’t valid so I couldn’t verify this.

[Edit: Glenn has now contacted me to confirm that he did take the photograph. I'm hopeful that he might share some more of them with us in future.]

Transportation Safety Board of Canada – AVIATION REPORTS – 2001 – A01O0157

The pilot was conducting a visual flight rules local flight from the Toronto / Buttonville Municipal Airport, Ontario. When the aircraft reached about 400 to 500 feet above ground level during the initial climb after take-off from Runway 33, the aircraft engine (Lycoming O-320-H2AD) stopped. The pilot began a forced approach and attempted unsuccessfully to restart the engine. The aircraft struck a treetop and the back of a house and came to rest on the back deck of the house. The aircraft and the house were substantially damaged. The occupants of the house were not injured; however, the pilot received serious, non-life-threatening injuries. The accident occurred at 1952 eastern daylight time during daylight.

It’s worth reading the full report to try to piece together how the pilot ended up in the side of a house on a clear day in June.

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Do you have what it takes to be an Approach Controller? Vincent, the famous Plastic Pilot, has developed a fun iPhone game where you have a chance to prove yourself.

The application mimics real air traffic control systems and gives you control of speed, height and heading as you try to coordinate ever increasing traffic. You can try the “Lite” version before you buy and coordinate traffic at London Heathrow or New York JFK or buy the full version which includes ten airports to keep you challenged.

Find out more: APP Control – Air Traffic Control Game – Play air traffic controller

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I posted this in the links earlier this week but honestly, I could watch it over and over again and not get bored.

This cockpit video of a twilight landing at LAX shows the SADDE Six Approach coming in over Santa Monica. The 30-minute flight is condensed to 3-minutes, making for a thrilling view of the city and the airport.

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And finally: did you know that the The de Havilland Moth Educational Trust funds pilots for 10 hours conversion flying on a Tiger Moth and engineers with a bursaries for learning the restoration, maintenance and repair of vintage aircraft. This is a great opportunity for pilots and engineers in England. There is no cost involved but you must submit your application before the 28th of February.

You can get the PDF forms online: application for the 2011 Fiona McKay Flying Bursary and application for the 2011 Engineering Bursary.

What have you got to lose?

This is another excerpt from my essays about learning to fly at Velez-Malaga airfield in Axarquía, Spain. The events took place shortly before I did my first solo flight away from the airfield. The cross country navigation exercise is required to get your private pilot’s licence. It is effectively the first time the pilot is left alone with their plane, dependent on their skills both in flight and on the ground. My instructor had a list of prerequisites: the horizon needed to be clear, the wind calm, and my practised forced landings needed to be perfect. If, god forbid, I had an engine failure, I had to be able to bring the plane down. I still have the sequence written down on a sheet in my clipboard, long after passing the tests.

Weekends in the summer are busy at Axarquía. Broad-shouldered young men with their hair clipped short invade the airfield. They fly the banner planes, advertising discotheques and cheap restaurants across the beaches of the Costa del Sol.

There was no point in my doing anything until they were out of the way, so I studied engine failures. This was exactly the type of information I’d signed up for in the first place: a get-out-of-jail-free card if things really went wrong. Only once I’d begun did I realise: it didn’t help just to know how to deal with engine failure. I had to be able to do it under stress.

I recited the steps on the ground, trying to train my brain, so that the reactions would be automatic. If the engine cuts out, there’s no time to panic, no time to think about what my priorities should be.

I studied the theory in the shade of the fig tree, just a sequence of words. To bring it to life, I paced around the parked planes on the apron, reciting the steps.

Get the plane trimmed for glide. Work out the wind direction, look around for a field, choose a landing spot, fast fast fast. And only now – set up with a worst case plan, only now do I get to be optimistic and try to find the mechanical issue. There’s still time to restart the engines. Check the magnetos, the oil, the fuel, is there any chance I can turn this brick back into a plane? If not, continue the landing, don’t lose focus on my field. Tell someone where you are.

I turned towards the abandoned tower and made my radio call:

MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY
Golf Papa Echo is experiencing an engine failure.
Landing in a field 6 miles NW of Torre del Mar with 2 souls on board.

A young pilot at the fuel pump glanced over at me and then shrugged: crazy foreign lady. The banner pilots had never seen me fly. I retreated when they arrived, watching jealously from the distance. They never speak, they shout, laughing and clipping each other on the shoulders. Over the radio it continued–jokes, maybe insults. The Spanish was too fast and too dialectal for me to follow. They scared me: the energy, the easy-going laughter, as comfortable with the planes as an old bicycle kept in the garage. The airport holds no secrets for them, the aircraft is not a mystery. It’s a culture I would never belong to, even if I spoke the language, even if I was the same age. I think they must have been born in the cockpit.

I returned to my practice.

Having explained my dilemma to the outside world, I need to focus on the landing. It’s just another landing, don’t panic. Don’t get distracted by discussing the issue with the air traffic controller. Don’t. Land the plane. Now that I’m sure there’s no chance of restarting the engine, I need to shut it down, minimise the risk of fire. And then it’s down in a graceful glide towards my field, until the instructor says “Go Around” and I put the engine back on and pull away.

The first time that my instructor pulled the power off, I looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. The engine sputtered. The nose tilted down. He looked back at me. “Engine failure,” he said in a dead-pan voice.

Shit, shit, shit.

I mimicked a radio call, told an invisible someone that I’m in trouble. He shook his head as I became aware that the Cessna was going ever-so-slowly. Too slow, we were at risk of stalling: the nose tipping up, the plane preparing to plummet to the ground. Instinctively I reached for the throttle – more power! – and the instructor smacked my hand away. Right, engine failure.

Finally I put the plane into a gentle glide, losing height but in a controlled manner, moving forward. I stared out my left window, searching for a nice stretch of field to land in, something long and flat and runway shaped. I had still not found anything like that when my instructor finally told me to put the power on and climb away.

“There just wasn’t anywhere I could have landed,” I complained. It wasn’t my fault! He’d picked a stupid location to simulate an engine failure. He let me rant as we flew across the valley.

“OK, then, let’s try one now.” The engine roar dwindled to a low rumble. “Don’t worry about anything else, just get into a glide and find a field.”

Again, I couldn’t see where I could possibly land. There were no flat fields, nothing even vaguely appropriate. I started pointing at locations to try to get some input. “I can’t land on the side of a mountain so I need to look in the valleys. There’s the dark green patch there, there’s trees everywhere. That lighter patch there isn’t long enough and the field next to it has furrows or something, that’s no good and look, fences, why do they all put up fences, and buildings, buildings everywhere!” I shook with frustration. “There’s just no where to land here!”

“I guess we’re going to die,” he said and put the power back onto full. He took control and circled the area. “You don’t have a lot of choice, your engine is dead. You aren’t looking for the perfect landing spot, you are taking what you can get. You need to pick the best out of a bad lot. That’s the nature of an emergency.” He pointed out to me the tiny area of flat land that he would have chosen. Well, it was easy for him, he was good at it. But I understood also that he made decisions quickly. Meanwhile, I kept hemming and hawing about where to go and whether that spot was just right until it was too late.

I had a feeling there was a life lesson there. But I didn’t have time to ponder it, the instructor was climbing away again and I knew what that meant, another PFL. This time, however, I kept an eye on the field he’d pointed at and chose it for my landing point. His grin told me that he knew I was cheating but I didn’t care. The main thing was to get the plane on the ground, right?

We did this day after day, circling the low ground. “Where now, Sylvia?”

Finally I began to recognise the possibilities, to see the best out of a bad lot and set up the plane to make the landing. “That field, there,” after a quick glance out the window and then a gentle turn and concentrating on the plane rather than staring out at the unfriendly landscape. And then came the day when I was descending, totally focused, perfectly lined up for my make-shift runway. It was perfect.

“Go around.” My instructor was cutting me off but I knew I had everything right. I glanced at him in confusion as I put the power back on.

“That was perfect,” he said. “But we’re not actually trying to land, just to prove that you could, if you needed to.”

I was so focused on the approach that I’d forgotten we weren’t playing for keeps. I had set up the landing and I knew I was going to make it. His interruption took me by surprise. I wanted to land it in this godforsaken middle of nowhere, so confident that I had it right.

I scarcely had time to ponder what this meant, this new view of my own ability. He interrupted me yet again. “Let’s do your solo navigation tomorrow.”

I said nothing for a moment, pretending an extended interest in the horizon in front of me. But I knew he was right. I was ready.

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Read the whole story in my ebook: You Fly Like a Woman