The ATM that comes to You!

As far as the FAA is concerned, if you fly with a check pilot at least once every two years, your license is good. Insurance companies are not so cavalier, however. They require that most pilots of higher performance aircraft undergo "recurrent" training at least once a year, and for some, it is required every six months. Typically the training involves a 2 to 4 day course that is tailored to a specific make and model aircraft. If you fly more than one type and they are not very similar, you will be going to recurrent training more often.

So where does the ATM come in? There are a few well-recognized names in the training business: Flight Safety, SimCom and Aviation Training Management (ATM). I have used them all and they are all very good. (It may not surprise you to know that Flight Safety is actually owned by an insurance company so they get you coming and going). This year, for the first time, I used ATM and the differences are worth a blog post.

One of the real benefits from annual training is that most of it is performed in a simulator rather than your aircraft. Flight Safety has a "full-motion" simulator and SimCom has a static simulator. In these devices, the instructors can throw all of the ugliest scenarios at you over and over until you build up a natural and quick response memory. There are lots of things that you need to be prepared for but you definitely do not want to try in a real aircraft. In-flight fires, severe ice build up, engine failures combined with multiple instrument failures in "zero-zero" conditions - you get the idea.

The difference between full-motion and static simulators was not as dramatic as I had expected, and as a result, for the last few years I have opted for the SimCom training in Scottsdale, AZ. Our favorite instructor is Damon Rosenlof, who has that rare combination of a deep knowledge base along with a gift for teaching. In the sim, however, Damon is brutal. He's not happy until we're up to our ears in equipment failures and miserable, albeit simulated, weather. For example, while my left-rudder leg is cramping from the prolonged engine-out in icing conditions with half the panel dark, Damon will sneak outside the sim and throw heavy D-cell batteries as hard as he can at the bulkhead on the other side of my head. ("This simulates the noise of the ice shedding from the propellers and hitting the fuselage," he deadpans). I, however, have only narrowly avoided a "laundry problem."

This year I talked to ATM, which does its training in your aircraft. I went over my concerns about safety and potential strains on the engines and other equipment and they carefully and thoroughly explained how they approach training to maximize the former and minimize the latter. What I hadn't considered was the additional benefits, the two most significant being training in your specific instrumentation environment and the confidence that comes from safely conquering an emergency procedure "for real" rather than in a simulation.

As to the first, with the advent of more and more advance electronics in the panel, the differences in how you rely on your technology to help resolve emergencies becomes significant if you train in a plane with different systems. The second of these differences, however, was the most startling to me. I think simulators are wonderful and intensely safe environments, but now I know that they only provide a close approximation of what you will really experience.

ATM has training facilities in Stockton, CA and Vero Beach, FL. Being on the west coast, I chose Stockton. ATM will also come to you and train at your home airport and surroundings. I initially considered this since it is less expensive than flying my twin up to Stockton, but two factors outweighed this. First, I have flown in the Los Angeles basin for thirty years and it is not only familiar, but crowded. It would be nice to fly approaches I had not memorized long ago. Second, the low density of the Central Valley and the good rapport that ATM has with local air traffic controllers meant that we'd be able to get more done in the allotted time.

Touching down after the two hour flight I was greeted by Rick Tutt, my instructor for the next two days. Rick is one of those guys who has done it all in aviation. After 13,500 hours in the air, there are not many things that he has not seen before. Its a real treat to listen to that kind of experience talking. For me, the great risk in flying is that you don't know what you don't know. While after 30 years I think I know a lot, there is also a lot I don't know and thus do my best to avoid (like how the plane will react if I fly into a thunderstorm). But the nagging problem is wondering about the surprises - the stuff you didn't know you don't know. By the way, if you ever want a reminder of all the stuff you don't know, I highly recommend the AOPA's Air Safety Foundation's online training series. Listening to seasoned pilots tell freight dog stories or mountain flying experiences chips away little by little at that "unknown" category. Rick is that kind of instructor.

The second day we went flying. I truly didn't know what to expect. After climbing to 4,000' on a picturesque day, we cruised at low power while getting ready for the procedures. First we did the obligatory steep turns and holds, followed by some moderately unusual attitude drills. Then he said something to me that I didn't expect, but probably should have. He said "Lets do some stalls." Now I am no stranger to stalls in a Cessna 172 or Piper or Beech single, but I confess I have never done one in a twin, much less a cabin-class twin. We never even simulated stalls in the other two training centers. "This was going to be interesting," I thought to myself apprehensively. Rick explained that we were not going to change the power settings in the recovery so there would be no stress on the big, temperature-sensitive Continentals.

After briefing the maneuver, I hauled the nose up and we began to decelerate. It took a while to get the horn going, but we probably had at least 10 knots advanced warning. I expected a buffet and a quick, lower-the-nose recovery. Many times in the 172 I can remember asking the instructor "was that it? did it stall yet?" because the break was so docile. Not so in the twin. The buffet was nearly violent and the break was undeniable. It was a stall like no other I had felt. This is a sensation the simulator cannot duplicate. Next we did accelerated stalls (at a 45 degree bank). As expected, the stall speed increased considerably, but the buffet and break were about the same and the recovery was smooth. I was concentrating very, very hard on keeping the ball centered and as coordinated as possible. I didn't want to get anywhere close to a spin.

Next was the instrument approach phase. We did several GPS/RNAV approaches because I wanted to really understand the differences between LPV, LNAV/VNAV, and LNAV+. Of course I knew that we'd be doing the engine-out procedure soon. This was the one I was most apprehensive about. We train for this constantly. In my initial multi training, my instructor would regularly turn one of the Seminole's 180 Lycoming engines off without warning. (This was especially exciting on the darker nights half way to Catalina with no light references!). In my plane, however, we had only simulated it. I remember questioning a friend who flys an identical plane to mine to describe his actual engine out incident once. The burning question was "Did it feel like the simulator? Was it difficult? Did you feel prepared?" I just didn't know how well the simulator portrayed the control pressures and power settings. What was going through my mind now was that I was about to find out for myself. Rick briefed the procedure, including how he would set the controls, then he did it. During the GPS approach, just outside the outer marker (where else?), he pulled the mixture control on the right engine, which immediately began windmilling. I was surprised at the gentle reaction of the plane. We were in a moderately low power descent and the rudder input required was no big deal. After going through the quick diagnosis, I secured the engine (zero thrust) and trimmed out the rudder. At that point, flying the plane was no big deal. The point is not my performance in the exercise, it is the confidence I gained because now I really know how my plane will react and that the prescribed response steps work as advertised.

As you might tell from the foregoing, I am a fan of both training methodologies. Each have their benefits and limitations. For me, the plan will be to alternate between simulator and actual, in-plane training in order to get the best of both. It's a constant battle, but keeping the surprises to a minimum is what its all about for a pilot.