Tag Archives: Flying Friday

Flying Friday: the one that was baffling

Good news for this update, or at least some of it is. I found a serviceable crankshaft and it has been shipped to the engine shop. With any luck the engine build will start going full throttle next week.

The treasure hunt

In my last update, I’d mentioned that the left engine crankshaft was unserviceable, and that I’d have to find a new one. Before that post, I had already called a dozen or so places that I thought might have one, but I struck out. On a whim that afternoon, I decided to call one of the engine shops that I did not use for the overhaul. They have a good reputation for stocking a lot of various parts and I thought maybe I would get lucky and find that they had one on the shelf. The next morning, and mind you this was a Saturday, I got an email from them. They had a factory-new crankshaft! I was happy.

The following Monday while I was at lunch I got a phone call from that shop. It turns out that the box was marked as containing an IO-470-L crankshaft. When they opened it, it turned out that it actually contained an IO-470-D crankshaft. This may seem like a small difference but in terms of mechanical compatibility it is huge. I went from being elated to have solved my crankshaft problem to being depressed that my last attempt had struck out and I resigned myself to having to wait a few more months to find one on the shelf.

The next morning I saw a post from someone on BeechTalk looking for a pilot to fly a pressurized Baron 58 for a maintenance check flight. I couldn’t do it, but I sent the poster a private message to suggest someone who might be able to help. We struck up a conversation and he ended up referring me to Nagle Aircraft, a maintenance shop in Massachusetts that I had never heard of. I called and spoke to Joe Nagel and he could not have been more helpful. He referred me to a gentleman named Tim Hess who runs the engine shop at the same airport. Tim was equally helpful and said, “I don’t have any, but here are a list of three people who might.” I struck gold on the second of those three, a small parts shop called ENParts in Lancaster, Texas, run by a lady named Eileen McGough.

The funny part was that if I had done a little more research I probably would have run across ENParts sooner because they are a well-known reseller of pieces and parts for situations like this. They have a primitive website, but other better-known websites like CSOBeech mention them. So the lesson I learned was that being more diligent about researching parts suppliers might have saved me some unnecessary angst. After a few back and forth phone calls, we established that the crankshaft Eileen had would be usable, but that would require new connecting rods for the upgraded pistons that I am installing. That matter was all settled relatively quickly, and the crankshaft is now on its way to its new home in my left engine.

During this process, I got a note from the shop that pointed out another opportunity to spend money something that needed to be considered while the plane was down for the overhauls.

Baffles

If you know how car engines work, then you know they are typically cooled by water or coolant that circulates through a radiator. Air passing over the radiator cools the fluid, which is then pumped through channels in the engine assembly to keep it cool. Very few airplane piston engines are liquid cooled. Instead, they tend to be air cooled, but not with the same forced air mechanism that cars use. Drag increases with the square of the surface area, so if you make a big enough opening to force air in, you’re going to multiply the amount of drag disproportionate.

Instead, most piston engines use what’s known as pressure cooling. Air enters the front of the engine cowling, sure, but a system of baffles and seals blocks the air’s free flow so that a higher-pressure zone is created over the top of the engine. The passage of air over the lower part of the nacelle creates a low-pressure area that draws the hot air out and down. There are baffles between each cylinder, and there are multiple baffles that go between various parts of the engine installation and the cowling. In the image below, the blue stuff is the flexible baffle material that forms an air-tight-ish seal against the cowling; it’s riveted to a support bracket that holds it in place. You can’t see the inter-cylinder baffles well from this angle.

My baffles were installed new when the engines were overhauled in 2004. Some of the rubber materials were cracked, as were some of the attachment brackets. The best time to install new baffling is when the engine is out, because otherwise it’s tough to get the inter-cylinder baffles in place properly.

The supply chain rears its ugly head again

As it turns out there are basically two places to get baffles for a Baron 55.

One is from a company called McFarlane that has what the FAA refers to as “parts manufacturing authority,” or PMA. PMA means that you have their permission to produce parts that are functionally identical to what came from the original manufacturer. They don’t necessarily have to be made using the same process or out of the same materials, but they have to work the same way and meet the same standards for durability and so on. The other is from a company named D’Shannon Aviation, which makes a variety of really nifty upgrades for various Beechcraft airplanes. I have a D’Shannon windshield, vent window, and vortex generators and have been very pleased with them. Their modifications are made available through a different mechanism known as a supplemental type certificate, or STC. Why it’s called that, and what it means, are topics best left for another post.

There should be no functional difference between the two and McFarlane’s parts were about 20% cheaper than the ones from D’Shannon. That might make it seem obvious which one I should choose. As it turns out though, McFarland has a minimum 60 day lead time whereas D’Shannon has baffles sitting on the shelf ready to ship. made the decision dramatically easier. Scott and Heather, the owners, were incredibly quick and helpful in processing my order, with the bonus that they were able to break the kit into two subassemblies; the parts that go on the engine are going to the engine shop, and the parts that go on the airframe are headed to New Smyrna Beach to be installed. The screenshot below from D’Shannon’s baffle kit documentation shows all of the pieces and their relative locations (although note that mine are blue and not red!)

…and now, back to waiting

I’d budgeted for the possibility that I would need one new crankshaft. I didn’t budget specifically for the baffles, but I did keep some contingency money aside in case something like this happened. From a budget standpoint I am not too badly off. From a time standpoint the delay in getting a crankshaft added a couple more weeks to the schedule. But at this point it’s hard to act like that matters too much given how long this is already taken. I am hopeful now that all of the parts are in the correct places. That the engine build itself will go smoothly…but I am mentally preparing myself for some other kind of unexpected delay at some point. We shall see.

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Flying Friday: the one with the red tag

In my last update I said that Poplar Grove was taking the cranks and magnafluxing them for inspection. Turns out that they did and the results were… not great. One of the cranks earned the dreaded red tag. At first it doesn’t look too bad…

However, when you look more closely at the #2 connecting-rod journal, you can clearly see the wear pattern. Of course it’s worn; the crankshaft has been spinning for a little more than 4000 hours of flight time. See that groove in the center? That’s the problem; the wear is excessive.

When a shop overhauls a part or assembly it can come out in two states: with a yellow tag, meaning that it is serviceable and can be returned to service, and that the shop is attesting such, or with a red tag, which means that the part is no good. In this case one of the crankshaft bearing races has too much wear to allow it to be reused. Now I have to find another one.

Way back when I first started this process, I spoke to Bill Cunningham at Powermaster. He declined to do these overhauls because he said he was worried he would have too much trouble finding a crankshaft. Son of a gun, he was right. That is now playing out. No one has them in stock, period. Continental will sell me a brand new one, but only if I wait for an estimated 587 days to get it. Both Poplar Grove and I are scouring the used market, posting want-to-buy ads, and so on, but it remains to be seen whether that’s going to do any good. I had budgeted some extra money in case I needed to replace one of the crankshafts, but that only helps if I can find one.

I guess this is why Bill told me that his recommendation was to buy a factory new engine. But the seductive lure of the Cygnet STC upgrade was just too strong, alas.

Meanwhile some other work is still taking place. Baker Aviation is overhauling the fuel selector, which is a complicated valve that sits on the floor between the pilot and copilot seats and lets me select which fuel tank to use for each engine. It is a fairly complicated piece of plumbing and so it will be good to have all of its seals and o-rings replaced.

The engines in the Baron use an engine driven mechanical fuel pump. However, to start or prime the engines, there is an electric boost pump that also gives you redundancy if the engine driven pump fails. For some reason, one of my two pumps has a much higher pressure on its high setting than the other one does. There is no documentation that I can find that tells me what the correct pressure is. Because the pumps don’t match, one of them is obviously wrong, so I had Baker send both of them off for overhaul to Aeromotors. It has been at least 12 years since either of them were touched. I figured that is probably a good conservative approach.

I also decided to have both propeller governors overhauled as well. The propeller governor is a hydraulic mechanism that is powered by engine oil pressure and allows you to adjust the pitch angle of the propeller to maintain the desired RPM. On a twin-engine airplane the governor is especially important because it is a key part of the mechanism that allows you to feather the propeller in case the engine fails. with the fuel pumps these governors have not been touched in a while and so it is a good idea to have them overhauled and returned to factory spec as long as the plane is down for maintenance anyway. (In pure coincidence, the day after I asked Baker to send these off, a friend of mine had an emergency landing after the prop governor in his single-engine plane failed and blew the engine’s oil all over his windshield. Thankfully he and the plane are both OK!)

You can see where this is going. Much like a house renovation or any other complicated multi-step process, scope creep can be a real problem. “As long as you’re in there…” is a powerful force. Depending on how much my downtime is extended and how well the budget holds up, there are a number of other things that I might ask the shop to do as long as they have the plane, but I’ll have to wait and see whether I am able to find a crankshaft in a reasonable time.

I also have a local upholstery shop ready to re-upholster the seats but I’ll wait to have them start until I have a little better idea when the plane might be back in service, and when I do get it back, I already have new carpet ready to be installed.

Meanwhile, just to keep my hand in, I’m working on getting my single-engine currency back so that at least I can fly something while I wait.

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Flying Friday: the one where magnas will be fluxed

Since my last update, essentially nothing has happened.

Poplar Grove has disassembled the engines and done preliminary checks on the parts that will be reused. It looks like the crankshafts are in good enough shape to be reused, which is good, as IO-470-L crankshafts are hard to find right now. The visual and dimensional inspections were OK, but the crankshafts still need to have a “magnetic particle inspection,” colloquially known as a “magnaflux” test. In this test, the tester magnetizes the part using a big ol’ electromagnet and coats the part with iron particles to look for incipient or actual cracks. The shop needs to do that before signing off on the crankshafts, so until that’s done I am not 100% confident that I won’t get stuck waiting for replacement for one or both crankshafts.

As of two weeks ago, the last time I checked, my engines were #19 and #20 in Poplar Grove’s build queue. With luck, they’ll complete the magnaflux tests before the 4th of July and then, assuming they pass, the build can start. Steve tells me that maybe he can shave a couple of weeks off the initial timeline estimate of 25 weeks, which would be nice.

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Flying Friday: the one where I get new engines

It’s official: I’m pulling both engines on N421BJ. This is not unexpected, but it means I won’t be flying for a while. The timing isn’t great but the great aviation circle of life meant I didn’t really have a lot of choice. The engines I have now were built in 2004 and have accumulated about 2650 flying hours… which is a lot.

Here’s what’s going on.

Crack(s) is whack

During my routine annual inspection, Curtis and the gang at Baker Aviation reported lower compression on a few cylinders than I’d like to see, along with some uneven wear on some valves on the right engine. These things are curable… but do you know what’s not curable? The cracks in the top of the left engine crankcase.

Continental’s Service Bulletin M90-17 lays out the rules: depending on the location and size of the crack, you can either adapt “watchful waiting,” weld the crack, or replace the crankcase. My cracks were in a non-critical area, but one of them was leaking oil (as opposed to seeping it), which basically means the case was done.

Because of the way these engines are built, you can’t do the welding without removing and disassembling the engine, and by the time you get to that point, you may as well rebuild it.

The thing about aircraft engines

I’ve written before about the basics of how aircraft piston engines work (part 1, part 2), and things haven’t changed much since then. Aircraft engines are still complex and expensive for what they do, and there’s no realistic alternative given the way that certification works.

Now, the manufacturer’s “time between overhaul” (TBO) of 1700 hours for these particular engines is a suggestion, not a requirement, if you’re flying under Part 91. My engines have performed flawlessly, a testament to Bill Cunningham at Powermaster. If you closely monitor the engine’s health and condition, you can safely fly well beyond TBO… but not with cracks.

The right engine is also past TBO but running fine, with no cracks found on its case. So the immediate question was: do I fix just the left engine and keep flying, or take the opportunity to address both engines at once?

One lump or two?

It made no sense to even consider just repairing or replacing the case given that the guts of the engine were so old. That left me with the decision of whether to only do the left engine or to bite the bullet and do both at the same time. There are various pros and cons to swapping both engines at the same time.

Doing one engine means lower up-front costs, but it also means that, at any time, the other engine could fail in some expensive and/or dangerous way. That means potentially twice the downtime, with no savings. Doing one engine also means I can’t upgrade the engines.

Doing both engines is more convenient but more expensive. It’s the same amount of initial downtime, but there’s an added risk.

See, in both cases, we have to contend with the fact that aircraft engines exhibit a classic “bathtub curve” failure pattern: the failure rates are highest in the first 100-200 hours, then taper down before increasing again as the engine ages out. Putting in two engines increases the risk of having two failures– not necessarily at the same time, but still within that initial “infant mortality” window. Part of the advantage of a twin, of course, is that having both engines fail at the same time is rare, and I decided the small additional risk within that initial window was outweighed by the increased performance of upgrades.

The Cygnet upgrade

Here’s the twist that changed the whole project. My Baron came with a Cygnet Aerospace IO-470-MOD STC — a supplemental type certificate that allows you to install IO-520 cylinders on an IO-470 crankcase. It’s a well-proven conversion that’s been flying since the 1990s, popular with Baron owners who want more power without a full engine swap. The added displacement adds about 25 horsepower per side, which is nice, but the bigger improvement is in single-engine climb performance and single-engine service ceiling. Since I live in the hot, humid southeastern US, OEI performance on a hot day is pretty important to me.

I’d had the STC sitting in the logs but didn’t originally plan to use it during this overhaul. I wanted to, but if I was only going to replace one it wouldn’t work. After speaking to Chris Szarek at Cygnet, I did some more research and found that the cost premium for the Cygnet conversion runs about 25% total. That’s not nothing. But given that I expect these engines to last the rest of my flying career, and that I wouldn’t feasibly be able to go back and add the upgrade later.

I was waffling, still, until I learned that the left engine case was cracked and would almost certainly need replacement. To install the bigger cylinders, the case must be machined to accept them. The IO-470-L and the IO-520-E have identical internals; the 520-E case is bored for the bigger cylinders, but it’s dimensionally identical otherwise. So the easier route was to get two IO-520-E cases and use those, which also necessitates the 520’s bigger oil pump.

Given that, either way, I’d be buying at leats one new case, the Cygnet conversion looked a lot better, so that’s what I decided to plan on.

Shopping for an overhaul shop

I solicited quotes from five shops and quickly learned that comparing engine overhaul quotes is like comparing cell phone plans — everyone bundles things differently, and the headline number never tells the whole story.

The shops I looked at:

AirPower is the only place you can buy a factory engine, whether rebuilt or new. Straightforward, but at a premium — their factory rebuilt price was roughly 15% more than the most competitive overhaul quote, and factory new was about 30% more. They run a 14-20 week lead time, and you can pay an eye-watering $7500/engine to skip to the front of the line. Not surprisingly this was the highest-total-cost option.

Certified Engines Unlimited (CEU) in Opa-Locka, Florida. Competitive pricing, fast turnaround, and my local A&P at Revolution Flight recommended them based on past experience. The downside: their warranty uses a “phantom usage” calculation that assumes you’re flying 30 hours a month whether you actually are or not. At my flying rate, the warranty calendar would expire well before I hit the hour limit.

Pinnacle Aircraft Engines in Silverhill, Alabama. Solid reputation, the best warranty of the bunch (three years to TBO, transferable, no phantom usage), and new Superior cylinders standard. The catch: Alabama sales tax adds about 9% to the bill, which is a significant hit that erases most of their competitive pricing.

Poplar Grove Airmotive in Poplar Grove, Illinois. This is where things got interesting. Steve Thomas and his team have a strong reputation in the Continental piston community, and critically, Chris from Cygnet referred me to a happy customer. Illinois exempts aircraft engine overhauls from sales tax, which is a meaningful advantage. Their warranty — two years or 500 hours, no phantom usage — is solid.

A couple of other options fell through early. To my regret, Powermaster (my first choice) couldn’t take on the work because of their backlog, and Western Skyways couldn’t either.

Financing

A dual-engine overhaul with the Cygnet conversion is a six-figure project. I’m financing through Dorr Aviation, who specialize in aircraft loans. The structure is a refinance of the existing airframe loan plus the overhaul cost, with the post-upgrade aircraft value supporting the loan-to-value ratio. I got quotes from both Airfleet and Dorr, and Dorr had better rates, a better term, and a better LTV ratio for the loan. I’ve used Airfleet in the past and been happy with them, but I chose Dorr when I bought this plane the first time and again for the refi.

What’s Next

The plan’s in motion: financing and insurance paperwork are done (I need better insurance because the re-engined airplane is worth roughly 2.5x what it was with the geezer engines), Steve has sent shipping crates down to Florida for the old engines, and Curtis’ team at Baker Aviation will start pulling the old engines next week. Meanwhile the new IO-520E cases are headed for rework to move the oil filler necks.

I’ll document the process as it goes — I’ll have plenty of time since I won’t be flying the plane for 4-6 months. Send thoughts and prayers.

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Flying Friday: Four Years with Carmen

Pet owners talk about “gotcha day”: the day when a new pet joins the family. We use it in lieu of “birthday” because, as the keeper of 2 rescue beagles and a rescue cat, of course I don’t know their actual birthdays.

Yesterday was a gotcha day too: four years since I picked up Carmen, my 1968 Beech Baron 55, and it seems like a good time to reflect on what I’ve learned since that day I flew her home from Dallas.

(If you’re new here: the name “Carmen” came from my sister. I told the family I was flying to San Diego to look at a plane, and she immediately came back with “Carmen Sandiego… because where in the world…” and the name stuck.) I liked it enough to have stickers made, so I can leave them in breweries, bars, FBOs, and other places where people tend to leave “Kilroy was here”-style stickers. (It is no accident that the woman in the picture looks like my lovely wife cosplaying as Carmen, btw.)

The airplane as teacher

When I got my multi-engine rating in 2021, flying a 1967 Travel Air, I thought I had a pretty solid understanding of how twins work. I was wrong — or at least, incomplete. Owning a twin is a different kind of education entirely. The Travel Air and the Baron are siblings so they are similar in many ways, but the level of knowledge and investment of time and money required to move from flying a flight-school mule to your own airplane is very significant.

Four years in, I’m still learning. Every time something breaks, every time I research or buy an upgrade, every inspection I do or have done: they all teach me something new about the airplane’s systems. Working alongside the mechanics, looking at the guts of a 58-year-old airplane, is a kind of continuing education you can’t get from a textbook. I’ve gotten to know the plane and engines well enough to have opinions about things I barely even know existed when I started.

The people you find along the way

One high note of owning this plane has been the chance to meet new people.

I want to start by recognizing David Peterson, who sold me the airplane and did my transition training. Great guy who handed me a well-maintained, solid airplane and has always been there to answer my often-ignorant questions.

The online Beech community has been a constant bright spot. The folks on BeechTalk have been generous with advice — route suggestions, maintenance tips, and the occasional nudge in a useful direction. To cite one of many examples, when I posted about a planned Niagara Falls trip, a couple of people recommended stopping at Latrobe, PA to eat at DeNunzio’s — the kind of local knowledge you only get from a broad community like that.

Training with different instructors has been invaluable too. I practiced emergency procedures extensively with my friend Brian Fredrickson (who has since started a very successful flight school), and had the great experience of flying with Anand Iyer to train for my commercial multi-engine rating, which I earned in 2024.

During this stretch of time, though, I’m sorry to say I lost two friends: Nikul Desai was a fellow pilot and multi-engine instructor killed in a training accident, and Jon Foote took great care of the Baron for me at Elevation Flight until his untimely death.

Going places

One of the best reasons to buy an airplane is to use it to go places. A big part of my reason for buying a twin was so I could comfortably fly over water, mountains, and other places where a single-engine plane might leave me as an involuntary glider pilot.

Carmen has taken us to some wonderful places over these four years. Fall break 2023 was Niagara Falls with a side trip to Vermont to see my sister and her family. The Baron has about 5 hours of range including IFR reserves, but for everyone’s comfort I prefer a maximum stage length of about 3.5 hours, which meant a fuel stop somewhere in the mid-Atlantic. We’ve been to all sorts of interesting places…

Image showing where I've flown Carmen.

(nb I couldn’t find a good way to generate the map I wanted so I wrote one: check out www.flightmap.online.)

I’ve also flown Angel Flight missions all over the southeast (LA, AR, FL, GA, MS, and TN, at least), ferrying patients who need to get to medical care. I first flew an Angel Flight mission back in 2019, taking a two-year-old boy named Dawson from Enterprise, Alabama to Aiken, South Carolina on his way to heart surgery in Boston. Having a twin-engine airplane that can reliably make these trips in a wider range of weather conditions means I can say “yes” to more missions, and that’s deeply satisfying.

Not without incident

I missed a few trips and had a couple of exciting moments, all for maintenance-related reasons. My first Bahamas trip was aborted because the shop I was using couldn’t finish the required cylinder change in time; the second Bahamas trip was scrubbed due to a brake problem. I missed the opportunity to fly myself to Vegas for work because of a leak in one of the fuel filters, and on a couple of other occasions (like an unexpectedly flat tire!) I had to scramble to get a fix in place. These things have taught me patience, as well as reinforcing the idea that if I really have to be somewhere I need to pad my travel schedule and have an airline ticket in my back pocket for contingency use.

Both “exciting moments” were precautionary engine shutdowns, of the same engine but at different times, due to noticeable engine roughness. The cause turned out to be a clogged fuel injector, itself caused by junk from an improperly sealed fuel strainer. The nice thing about a twin is that a precautionary shutdown is an annoyance and not immediately an emergency.

What’s next

Looking ahead, my goals keep evolving. I’m planning to pursue a seaplane rating, I want to keep up the Angel Flight missions, and 2026 is the year I finally fly myself to the Bahamas. I want to keep learning about Carmen and flying her to new places. After four years, the airplane still surprises me — sometimes with a new squawk, sometimes with a sunset over the clouds that makes me glad I’m up there.

If there’s one thing these four years have taught me, it’s that buying an airplane is not a destination. It’s an ongoing relationship — part mechanical, part financial, occasionally abusive, but entirely worth it.

Happy gotcha day, Carmen.

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2025 year in review: flying

Let’s start with the bad news. Here’s what I said at the end of last year’s post:

In 2025, my goals are to fly at least one Angel Flight mission per month; to go up to the FAA headquarters in Oklahoma City and do their aviation physiology training seminar; to fly myself to Oshkosh and the American Bonanza Society convention; and to get at least one additional rating or qualification. Onwards!

Soooo… I didn’t accomplish any of those. For Oshkosh and the ABS convention, work conflicts prevented me from attending, the confluence of the FAA’s scheduling and my own work schedule prevented me from going to OKC, and I was overall too busy to follow through with getting another rating, although I did start studying for the first two exams required to become a flight instructor.

But! It’s a new year! The possibilities are limitless. And overall, 2025 was a pretty good flying year. I flew 102 hours, all throughout the southeastern US, including four Angel Flight missions, as shown below:

Highlights of the year included a pop-up trip to visit my mother and sister on their own trip to Galveston, taking Erica and the girls to see Lady Gaga in Miami, several flights to Starkville to pick up, drop off, or visit Anna, and work trips to Orlando and Dallas. I also got to do a few discovery flights with people interested in becoming pilots, and those are always terrific fun.

Overall the plane performed and flew beautifully. I added a second Avidyne IFD440 GPS in the spring, so I now have flight instruments, navigation, and a flight management system (FMS) roughly comparable to what United and Delta have, which is nice. I also have made heavy use of Starlink in the plane, including writing about it for Aviation Consumer. Speaking of writing, I had my first article published in AvWeb, too, and there are several more in the queue.

There were a few lowlights, too. My annual inspection took six weeks (until mid-February), which I didn’t love– winter in the southeast is often great flying weather thanks to abundant high pressure. Maintenance problems killed my planned flights to Las Vegas and The Bahamas, both of which I had looked forward to for quite a while. And planning for engine upgrades is looming as a depressing and expensive topic for 2026.

What about the rest of 2026? I’m still very much enjoying my Angel Flight missions; besides the four I did fly, I had five others scheduled but cancelled by the patient, which often happens. There are often long stretches when either no one needs to go anywhere or where other volunteers snap up the flights first, too, but I’m recycling the same goal of an average one mission per month for 2026. I want to make some progress on my flight instructor rating by passing the first two exams (Fundamentals of Instruction and Flight Instructor-Airplane) And, by god, I am going to fly myself to The Bahamas in 2026 if I have to flap my arms the whole way!

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Flying Friday: flying with Starlink

tl;dr: Starlink is an amazing addition to my airplane that makes my flying safer.

Last year, I bought a Starlink Mini antenna with the intention of using it in the plane. For $50/month, it sounded too good to be true… and it was, since Starlink nerfed the service after about a month by reducing its speed limit to 100mph. Over that speed, you’d get a petulant message telling you to slow down. The least expensive plan that would work at Baron speed was $250/month, and it wasn’t worth it to me.

The good news is that Starlink was apparently paying attention to the GA community and introduced a new “local priority” plan. For $45/month, you can use Starlink in motion, over land, at speeds of up to 250mph. You buy data in blocks of 50GB, for $20 each, so $65/month gets you up to 50GB of in-motion data. That’s about perfect for what I wanted.

The Starlink Mini hardware draws between 20 and 40 watts in normal operation, with a draw of up to 60W at startup. I have a 28V airplane, so I bought a 100W-capable USB-C PD cigarette-lighter plug and I was in business. I’m still working on a mounting solution that I really like; I’ll post more about that another time. Here’s a teaser picture of one attempt that didn’t work very well.

I wrote an article that should appear in next month’s Aviation Consumer that talks about how the system works in more detail. Instead I wanted this post to reflect on two recent flights where having Starlink in the plane made a measurable difference.

Before I get to that, let me briefly digress about in-flight weather data. The FAA operates a system called ADS-B. Part of that system is a subsystem called FIS-B that rebroadcasts weather data from the ground to airborne aircraft. This includes both information about current conditions, but also forecasted warnings. The most important thing to know about this data is that it is not guaranteed to be in real time. There is typically a delay of between 5 and 20 minutes for radar updates. The data comes from the National Weather Service network of WSR-88D radar systems and then is processed in various ways. That processing takes a while. And so what you see in FIS-B is what things looked like at the time that radar image was taken. As famous aviation writer Richard Collins was known to say, “The only weather report you can trust is what you see out the window.” Many pilots have come to grief by trying to use this time-delayed radar image to navigate around storms and instead ending up in the storm area.

I don’t have onboard radar, but I do have onboard lightning detection. The combination of the FIS-B radar data, the onboard lightning detection, and my eyeball usually works pretty well to help me make tactical decisions. But eyeballs and sferics don’t do any good for long-distance planning. FIS-B has a lower-resolution radar feed that includes the entire continental US, but that’s also time-delayed. My electronic flight bag (EFB) app, ForeFlight, has higher-resolution radar layers available via the Internet, but that doesn’t help in flight… until now.

The first case was when I was flying back from Dallas for work. There were storms forecast for western Mississippi and northwestern Alabama, and it looked like I would, just maybe, beat them home. I wanted to have a plan in place in case I didn’t, though.

Enter Starlink. Here’s a sample screen shot from the RadarScope app, showing minimally-processed output from the WSR-88D at Hytop. This data is still not quite real time, but it’s much higher resolution than the FIS-B feed. RadarScope lets me see additional radar data types, not just reflectivity, so it’s much easier to figure out whether the radar returns actually represent a growing storm, a more benign area of rain, or a dangerous full-grown embedded thunderstorm cell. I pulled up RadarScope and was able to look at the radars across AL, MS, and TN to get an idea of what the storm line was doing. Then I swapped over to watch a Facebook Live broadcast by local meteorologist Brad Travis. He was predicting the storm arrival time, severity, and impact across the area west of Huntsville, exactly where I was going to be flying. The combination of updated radar data and a real-time review of that data by an expert told me it was time to land and wait the storm out. I diverted to the airport at Haleyville, waited about an hour in dry safety while the storm blew through, and had an uneventful return to Huntsville.

The second case was on a recent trip to visit my mom and sister in Galveston. The weather at Galveston had been gusty and cloudy thanks to two large low-pressure systems with a high trapped in between them. Here’s a comparison of what I saw from FIS-B versus what I saw in Foreflight radar data. First the ForeFlight image: there’s a storm cell to the upper-right of my flight path (past KBMT), and another off to the left, but no serious precipitation, and no storms, along my route of flight.

Compare that to what I was seeing from FIS-B. Some of the difference is one of scale (I had the Aspen display set to a 100nm scale, and it’s a physically smaller display). Some is due to the different resolution of the data. But the FF image made it obvious that I’d have good clearance from the storms to my southwest.

On the way home, I had the same problem; those two low-pressure areas were boiling up a 400-mile-long line of storms to my north. I planned to leave Galveston southbound and then turn east to fly along the lower edge of the Louisiana coast. Unfortunately, the weather at Lake Charles, and to the north, was terrible, so I ended up getting routed to Grand Isle. Here’s ForeFlight, showing the FIS-B data. You can see how much lightning there is in and around the straight-line path from Galveston to Huntsville.

You might wonder why this image shows the FIS-B data. It turns out that the local priority plan for Starlink only works over land and in coastal waters and I was about 40 miles offshore, well outside the 12-mile coastal-water limit. I didn’t get service back until I was nearly to Grand Isle. In fairness, FIS-B is only available in CONUS too; for example, if you fly to Canada or the Bahamas, you won’t have FIS-B weather data.

Starlink complaining that I’m out over the water

There were a number of pop-up thunderstorms along my route; the easy availability of updated and timely radar data helped me proactively ask for route changes to stay well away from them.

I’m not even touching on the utility of being able to use the Internet in cruise flight. Running behind schedule? Call the FBO and tell them. Diverting for weather? Book a hotel at your new destination. Bored passengers? Let them watch Netflix. All of the same capabilities that make in-flight Internet so useful on commercial flights apply here too, but to me, the safety benefits of getting better-quality weather data, and more of it, and in less time, make Starlink a must-have.

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2024 year in review: flying

On the surface, by comparison with last year, this year was sort of mixed. I didn’t fly as many hours (110 vs 128 last year), and I didn’t go to as many interesting places. However, with that said, it was still a terrific year.

The biggest highlight was passing my commercial multi-engine check ride with FAA examiner Charles Welden. I was having lunch one day with my friend John Blevins, a fellow pilot and a great American, and he asked how my training was going. I told him I hadn’t had any luck lining up a multi-engine instructor who was a) qualified in my plane and b) available when I was. John chuckled and said he had me covered. He did, as he introduced me to Anand Iyer out of Atlanta. Anand is a Ph.D. candidate at Georgia Tech, a former NASA employee, and a terrific instructor. I spent two weekends flying and studying with him and then popped down to Shelby County to take my check ride. It was by no means easy, but it was doable. Mr. Welden was a personable and fair examiner and I’m looking forward to (spoiler alert) going back down to Shelby County to do my seaplane rating later in 2025.

While I didn’t travel as far north or south this year as I did last year, I still covered a fair bit of ground. I did day trips to Dallas and Houston for work; trips to Alexandria, New Orleans, Lexington, Savannah, Covington, Gainesville, St Augustine, and Panama City for fun; and Olive Branch, Newnan, Nashville, and Birmingham for Angel Flight missions. Bonus, I also flew to Starkville and Columbus a bunch for shuttling Anna back and forth. All told I flew a little under 17,000 miles.

Thankfully all the equipment and systems on the plane functioned pretty well this year. I had a couple of minor nits (like a flat inner tube on one main gear tire) but no real showstoppers. I think I had pretty close to a 100% dispatch rate, although I traveled so much for work that it’s sort of hard to tell.

One fun fact: I had a precautionary shutdown last year, the cause of which I thought was fixed at the January 2024 annual. I had to cage the engine again in May, on the way to visit my mom for Mother’s Day. My local shop did some troubleshooting and found that … I had shut down the good engine.

See, what had happened was…

The engine monitor I have in the plane has two cannon plugs on the back, one for the A/D converter for each engine. Apparently the last time the monitor was worked on, the plugs were cross-connected. So when I felt an odd vibration and saw unusual engine parameters for the left engine, it was actually showing me data for the right engine. When I shut down the left engine, it was actually the normal one. Big thanks to Andrew Yost of Revolution Flight for catching that little error. Once he got the plugs swapped into the correct positions, it got a lot easier to troubleshoot the source of the problem, a partially clogged fuel injector.

The biggest negative from a maintenance standpoint was the untimely death of my friend and mechanic, Jon Foote, in July. Jon took great care of me as a customer and of the airplanes he worked on, and I’ll miss him.

As I write this, the plane is down at Baker Aviation in New Smyrna Beach undergoing a comprehensive annual inspection, from which I hope I’ll emerge only a little poorer. Baker is a very-well-known Beechcraft speciality shop, and when I went there there were about two dozen Barons and Bonanzas either being worked on, waiting their turn, or waiting for pickup. I have a list of about a dozen squawks that I want them to address, time permitting– almost all small things like “replace the magnetic compass” or “adjust the microswitches for the landing-gear warning horn”. I think the flight controls, engines, and other major systems are all pretty solid, but I’ll know more once I get the preliminary report from them with borescope photos and so on.

They will also be sending oil samples to ALS for analysis of wear metals; by measuring the (hopefully microscopic!) amounts of various kinds of metal in the oil, it’s possible to analyze the wear trends and get early warning of some types of problems. It’s the same idea behind the regular bloodwork your doctor probably subjects you to: regular sampling builds a baseline for trend identification.

In 2025, my goals are to fly at least one Angel Flight mission per month; to go up to the FAA headquarters in Oklahoma City and do their aviation physiology training seminar; to fly myself to Oshkosh and the American Bonanza Society convention; and to get at least one additional rating or qualification. Onwards!

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Flying Friday: fall break at Niagara Falls

Every year, my wife’s daughters have a school break the first or second week of October. Last year, we’d planned their first visit to Canada, but work intervened and instead we all went to Denmark. Sorry, not sorry. This year, we’d planned a makeup trip to visit Niagara Falls, plus a side trip to Vermont to see my sister and her family. It ended up being a terrific trip that vividly demonstrated the value and utility of GA airplane travel.

Our parameters were pretty simple: we had from Saturday morning until Thursday evening, bookended by football games, to do whatever we were going to do. The Baron has about 5 hours flying range (including IFR reserves) but, for everyone’s comfort, I prefer a maximum stage length of about 3.5 hours. That meant a fuel stop somewhere in the mid-Atlantic region. We went through several iterations of plans, based on the availability and cost of lodging in Niagara and Montpelier, before we arrived at our final plans. For example, originally we wanted to fly up and stop overnight at the Flying W Airport to take advantage of their unique pool… but it closes for the season on Labor Day, and there’s no hotel there anyway. Here’s how the trip went.

Day 1: Huntsville to Hagerstown to Jersey City

Our first leg was easy: Huntsville to Hagerstown, 526nm in 3:17. The weather was clear and ATC sent us direct. We landed and parked at Rider Jet Center so we could have lunch at their restaurant, The Grille at Runways. In fact, we picked Hagerstown specifically because of this restaurant, and it lived up to expectations. I also bought a can of Prist glass cleaner, and I’m glad I did: it worked far better than Plexus, which is hard to find nowadays anyway.

Erica had booked us a room in Jersey City at a Hyatt that’s right on the Hudson River waterfront. I had been debating whether to fly into Linden or Teterboro. This was a fun planning exercise. The diagram below helps to illustrate why. Teterboro is in the upper-right corner; Linden is at the bottom left. Our hotel was right near the green flag labeled “CLOCK”– so from a ground transport perspective, either would do. Teterboro is much busier, but Linden is often more difficult to use because of its position next to Newark’s airspace. What finally decided me in favor of TEB was that their fuel was significantly cheaper. I filed and briefed to Teterboro while the Rider crew topped off the tanks and we took off.

I had filed a direct routing because I know the secret: in complex airspace, it doesn’t matter what you ask for in your flight plan. The FAA’s computers will spit out a route based on a bunch of factors, including letters of agreement between adjoining ATC fiefdoms, expected traffic, terrain, and weather, and you may end up flying a different route anyway (more on that later!) The route they assigned was actually KHGR SCAPE ETX FJC STW KTEB–we actually approached Teterboro from just north of the Essex County airport shown above. We ended up flying that route. Teterboro typically uses different runways for arrival and departure, so they were having all arrivals fly the ILS Z approach to runway 6.

Every little blue arrow is an airplane. Note how many of them are around the area we’re going to.

Although the NYC airspace is super busy and the controllers talk fast, the en route, arrival, and approach were all straightforward. We parked at Meridian, where I’d made us a reservation, and grabbed a Lyft to the hotel. I snapped a quick photo showing the hundreds of millions of dollars of business jets parked just on one side of us– my whole airplane costs less than the landing gear on that plane directly behind me.

The hotel was perfectly nice; by far the best thing about it was its location. As promised, it was right on the riverfront, with easy walking access to restaurants and a few shops. We dropped our bags off and went out to go wander around and explore.

view from the sidewalk outside our hotel
nighttime view across the river

We walked down to the Colgate clock, took a bunch of selfies and photos with the city in the background, and then went to bed.

Day 2: Teterboro to Niagara International

Erica had booked tickets for the pedestal tour at the Statue of Liberty, but with the threat of a government shutdown looming we decided to cancel the advance tickets to make sure we didn’t lose out. As it turned out, there weren’t any pedestal tickets available, so we settled for the standard tour of Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty island. Both were fantastic– I thoroughly enjoyed Ellis Island and learned a great deal from the museum exhibits. (Example fun fact: between 1896 and 1924, there was 3x as much immigration to the US from Canada as from Mexico.)

We had a late lunch at the White Horse Tavern, then headed back to Teterboro, where sadly the airplane wasn’t ready as promised. There were three or four uniformed security guards milling around, and our suspicion was that they were there because Taylor Swift was due in town for the Jets-Chiefs game. Unfortunately we left before she got there. I wasn’t too sad, though, because I had planned to fly the Hudson River corridor on the way out.

The FAA has defined two routes that you can take to overfly the river (along with a required training course you have to do before you fly it!) The low route (“Hudson River exclusion”) doesn’t have air traffic control services, and it’s quite busy with sightseeing helicopters. The slightly higher route (“Skyline route”) keeps you in contact with ATC. You’re allowed to do either route, as long as you follow the rules. Because we were leaving Teterboro, which is in controlled airspace, the easiest arrangement was to depart Teterboro with VFR flight following, fly the Skyline route while talking to the various air traffic domains, and then pick up an IFR clearance for the flight to Niagara. I had planned for us to leave Teterboro to the north, fly to the Alpine Tower, and then follow the river south down to the bay, turn around, and fly north on the east bank of the river. I attached a GoPro to the tail tiedown to capture it, and that was a great decision– the video looks terrific. The segment below is midflight– just before overflying the Verrazzano bridge and making the turn in the bay.

Originally, I wanted us to fly to the St Catherine’s airport on the Canadian side of the falls. I got a US customs sticker and did all the CANPASS paperwork (pro tip: send the paperwork to the British Columbia office, they’ll turn it around in a couple of days) in anticipation, but then I found out that St. Catherine’s is a limited-service airport. No rental cars, no real Uber service, and no tie-downs. Reluctantly, I instead planned to go to Niagara Falls International (KIAG), which turned out to be a perfectly nice airport. I had filed an IFR plan from Newark to Niagara, which I activated once we were off the Hudson skyline route. 1.9 hours of flying time total got us there just as the sun was setting, then we picked up our rental car and headed across the border.

Days 3-4: Niagara Falls

Since this is Flying Friday, I’ll confine my recap of our time in Niagara to the real highlights: seeing the falls from Maid of the Mist, eating donuts and wonton soup at Country Fresh, doing the free walking tour at Niagara-On-the-Lake, and touring the Niagara Parks Power Station. By design, we completely avoided all the tourist-trap stuff on Clifton Hill. We did an all-day bus tour that included the boat trip, a visit to the Skylon Tower, and lunch at the (I am not making this up) Hungry Moose.

apparently this is one of the most-photographed sights in the Niagara region
the views from the Skylon Tower were breathtaking

One thing I didn’t do: overfly the falls. You have to be at or above 3500′, and there’s a steady procession of sightseeing traffic right at 3500′. I didn’t think the sight would be all that great, so we skipped it.

Day 5: Niagara to Montpelier

When it was time to go, we crossed back over to the US side, handed the keys to our rental car to the friendly FBO staff, and headed out. Remember earlier how I talked about how ATC will just assign you whatever they want to? I had originally filed a route that I thought would keep me out of the military operating areas (MOAs) along my route (those brown polygons in the map extract below). What did ATC clear me for? A direct route. As soon as Niagara Approach handed me off to the next sector, guess what I heard? “N421BJ, I have an amendment to your route…” We ended up flying up and over the MOAs, but the girls were all heads-down reading and fiddling with their phones, and we had a nice tailwind, so no one except me cared.

Montpelier is an interesting little airport. It’s sited in some fairly high terrain, and if the weather had been IMC I probably would have just flown into Burlington instead. As it was, I passed Burlington just as an F35 was arriving, and there was quite a bit of other traffic in the area, so Montpelier worked out really well. We parked, shut down, and took off with my sister for lunch and some sightseeing, including the Ben & Jerry’s factory tour. (For discussion another time: our hilariously weird AirBnb in Montpelier and the steady parade of tour buses carrying leaf peepers.)

Day 6: Montpelier to Latrobe to Huntsville

I posted on BeechTalk to ask for route suggestions, and a couple of people recommended stopping at Latrobe, PA to eat at DeNunzio’s, the restaurant there. So we did! Our first leg was about 3.1 hours with a noticeable headwind, but nice clear skies and no hassle from ATC. After landing, we walked over to the restaurant and, reader, let me tell you: it was fantastic. I had the lasagna, and it was more than I could finish– which is pretty rare. The airplane and pax were both full, so off we went back into the headwinds, with increasing cloud coverage. The leg home took a little over 3 hours; we landed, unloaded, and gratefully made our way home to see the dogs.

Summary

This trip is a terrific example of how well GA can work for travel. It would have been both expensive and inconvenient to do a similar itinerary by commercial air, and I don’t even want to think about the hassle (and exhaustion) incumbent on driving a trip like this. In the end, I logged 14.2 hours total. I didn’t total up my fuel costs (which is a good thing; avgas is significantly more expensive in the northeastern US than it is where I usually fly), but I’d guesstimate it was probably about $1500. For that price, maybe I could have gotten us all to and from NYC. I’ll call this one a win, and I’m already looking forward to our next trip.

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Flying Friday: A visit to RAM

I’m going to start this post with an apology: I should have taken about a million pictures, and now I’m sorry I didn’t. Now, on to the good stuff.

RAM Aircraft is really well known in the airplane engine aftermarket. They make engine parts (under what the FAA calls “PMA,” or “parts manufacturing approval“), including entire crankcases, and they have a very well-earned reputation for high-quality engine builds and overhauls. They sell a variety of upgrades for different aircraft, sadly not including my model of Baron, and they’ve been in the business since 1976, which is pretty rare in the aviation market.

They’re also a service center, and one of the things they do is what they call a “service check.” Think of the service check like the 14-point service that your local oil-change place does when you bring your car in; RAM’s service check includes an oil and filter change (including cutting the filter open to look for contamination or metal residue caused by unusual engine wear), but it goes well beyond that. They remove and clean the spark plugs, check the engine cylinder compressions, remove and clean the fuel injectors, adjust the fuel metering system to factory specs, test the intake and exhaust system for leaks, and wash the engine. If you bring in a twin-engine plane, they do all that twice… and, of course, they can fix any problems they find.

RAM were generous enough to donate a couple of gift certificates for service checks to the American Bonanza Society. I saw one for sale on BeechTalk and that sparked an idea: RAM is in Waco, Waco is near Dallas, I needed to be in Dallas for work, and I needed an oil change. What a happy chain of circumstances! I called RAM to schedule a service visit for when I needed to be in Dallas, bought the certificate and planned my trip: I’d fly the plane to Waco on Monday, drive back to Dallas for my meetings, and then pick the plane up on Thursday.

My flight to Waco was perfectly uneventful but hotter than blazes– it was 104º when I landed, and even at 3000′ it was still above 90º. In my particular airplane, temperatures above 90º on the ground call for a few differences in takeoff procedure, and climb performance (especially on one engine!) is significantly reduced, so I had to bear both of those in mind.

I landed and taxied over to the RAM ramp, and after a short wait John Sartor, RAM’s customer service manager, came out to meet me.

My personal opinion: you will never meet a more friendly or pleasant person in the aviation industry than John. He immediately made me feel like an honored customer even though he’d just met me 5 minutes before. After a short verification of what work RAM was going to do, we went out for me to show him my plane only to find that it had already been towed into the RAM hangar. That was a foretaste of how efficient their operation is! After verifying that he had the keys and access to the plane, he drove me to the Texas Aero FBO so I could pick up my rental car and I was off to Dallas.

The next morning, John called about 815a. I first though “oh no, something’s wrong”… but no, he was calling to tell me they’d already drained the oil and wanted to verify what oil I wanted to use. Efficiency again!

A later call brought the slightly unwelcome news that some of my spark plugs were worn to the point where the RAM QA department wouldn’t sign them off as airworthy. Aviation spark plugs are very similar in design to the ones in your car, lawn mower, boat, etc., but because piston aviation engines use leaded fuel, the plugs can foul faster, and over time the electrodes can wear. The electrodes on a few plugs were worn past their limits. A less conservative shop would have put the plugs back in and said “hey, you should change these,” but the good news is that RAM had the plugs in stock and changing them had zero labor cost.

Thursday morning John texted me to say the plane was ready, so after work I drove back to Waco (stopping at In-n-Out on the way, since I’d missed lunch). When I got there, he was kind enough to give me a 90-minute tour of their entire facility. The tour started in the lobby, where they have cutaway models of three engines with all the rotating parts intact. Turn the prop, and you can see the crankshaft turn, the movement of cylinders, camshafts, and valves, plus movement of the oil pump, turbocharger, alternator, and other accessories. The machinework on the models is amazing, and it was really fascinating to see the parts of the engine I don’t normally see.

We then made the rounds: the order and processing department, accounting (where I paid my bill, yikes), and the various assembly, test, and disassembly areas. The most junior RAM engine builder I met had been there 9 years. The most senior had been there 34 years! The shop spaces were meticulously organized and clean; the parts and tools were clearly labeled to keep the right things in the right places, and overall the impression I got was of a smooth-flowing workplace where people are expected to take time to do the work properly and to spec.

Each rebuild starts as a cart full of parts, so when the builder starts work, all of the components required for that particular engine are already together. There are a number of interesting touches to the build process, including custom-made carts that let them roll the engine from the build area into the (small, scary) elevator to take it down to the test cells. Those were cool too– in the cells, they do the engine break-ins for you, using a water dynamometer instead of a propeller or “club”. When the engine arrives it’s ready to be installed and flown, with no further break-in required. Considering that properly breaking in a new engine is a tricky process, this is a valuable addition. At the end of the process, there’s a hallway full of beautifully painted, perfectly clean, freshly rebuilt engines ready to go back into service.

I hated to leave, because I could’ve poked around all day asking questions and generally being a nuisance, but it was already after 5pm and I didn’t want to be that guy. I shook John’s hand, preflighted the plane (which had been fueled by Texas Aero while I was on tour), and blasted off for home. As one does, I kept a hawk eye on the engine parameters but they were refreshingly normal, and I landed about a half-hour after a beautiful sunset and went home happily.

Summary: if RAM rebuilt the kind of engines my plane has, I’d use them; if they support your engine type, you should take a very close look at them for repair / rebuild services. They do good work and they’re good people.

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Flying Friday: Carmen goes to the doctor

A couple of weeks ago I dropped Carmen off at the airplane doctor for an annual inspection. “What’s that?” said no one. Well, I’ll tell you what it is, since you didn’t ask…

The FAA requires regular inspections of most airplanes. That sounds vague, but the truth is that the requirement varies according to what the airplane is used for, whether it’s an experimental or amateur-built (E/AB) airplane, and so on. For my purposes the FAA regulation that applies is FAR 91.409:

…no person may operate an aircraft unless, within the preceding 12 calendar months, it has had (1) An annual inspection in accordance with part 43 of this chapter and has been approved for return to service by a person authorized by § 43.7 of this chapter

That seems straightforward enough. Back in February, I hired a mechanic in California to perform what’s commonly called a “pre-purchase inspection”, and then I had the excellent experience of taking Carmen to one of the service clinics sponsored by the American Bonanza Society, where master mechanic Wayne Whittington did a very thorough checkout using the ABS clinc checklist. However, neither of these are considered to be an “inspection in accordance with part 43,” as the FAA says above.

FAR part 43 annual inspections are required every 12 calendar months; the last one on this plane was done 4 November 2021, so a new one is required before 30 November 2022– you get until the end of the month when the last annual was signed off. It’s bad to let a plane go “out of annual,” because legally it is considered unairworthy and can’t be flown without a special permit at that point. It’s easier and cheaper just to make sure that doesn’t happen.

One part of the annual ritual of inspection prep is to make a comprehensive list of all the things you might want to have the mechanic inspect, fix, or change. This is just a starting point, because more often than not a thorough inspection by a trained professional will find things that the pilot’s missed. Here’s the list I gave to Jon, with my notes to you in italics:

  1. Annual inspection per the Beech maintenance manual (this manual is what FAR part 43 says you have to use to make the annual legal)
  2. 3 common items that seem to have been done each preceding annual. (I didn’t check to see if these were in the manual or not)
    • Check and service unfeathering accumulators (these accumulators are small tanks of nitrogen that apply pressure on demand to push the propeller out of its “feathered” position)
    • Check and service shimmy dampener (think of this dampener like a horizontal shock absorber mounted on the nose gear to keep it from wobbling)
    • Borescope inspection of all cylinders
    • Compression test of all cylinders. (If any are low, we’ll talk about whether to replace the cylinder or try another way to fix the underlying problem, depending on whether it’s the rings, the intake valve, or the exhaust valve)
  3. Fix a small crack in the skin of left aileron. (Although this sounds scary, it’s not; the crack is in a little piece of cosmetic metal that sits over a bracket to hide it, not part of the structure of the aileron)
  4. Replace the instrument air filter (this filter keeps crap from the carbon vanes of the vacuum pump from getting into the vacuum-driven flight instruments)
  5. Verify compliance with AD 2007-08-08 and AD 91-17-01 (more on this below)
  6. Oil change both engines 
  7. Replace main tires 
  8. Service brakes, using new pads; replace discs if necessary 
  9. Replace fuel cap O-rings (each fuel cap has two O-rings to help seal it, and these wear out over time)
  10. Install fluorosilicone washers on 2 main tank fuel caps
  11. Check front seat inertial reels; fix if needed (the pilot side seems awfully slack)
  12. Fix socket/bulb/wiring of leftmost glareshield panel light
  13. Fix “hitch” in electric trim in “Down” mode—it is binding or hanging. “Up” mode works OK, manual trim in both directions works ok.

A good mechanic will help you identify things that are legitimate airworthiness or safety issues and prioritize those. In the above list, probably the most safety-critical item is the seat belt reels– the accumulators, dampener, oil change, air filter, and so on all need to be done eventually. I’m thankful that the prior owners maintained Carmen to such a high standard so there aren’t any known lurking horrors– but Jon may find some, which is the whole point of doing annual inspections.

One key part of the annual is that the mechanic will verify compliance with airworthiness directives, or ADs. These are important maintenance actions that must be complied with– for example, AD 2007-08-08 requires periodic inspection of a part that locks the landing gear in the “up” position to ensure that it will work properly when needed. This inspection must be done every 100 hours; there are other ADs that must be performed periodically, so Jon will check all of the ADs that apply to this plane (and its engines, and propellers) and make sure that they’re complied with.

I also decided to have the propellers overhauled. The manufacturer recommends that these particular props be overhauled every 6 years or 2400 hours. These props were installed in 2008 and have close to 2400 hours on them, so it’s time– but, as with engines, the “time between overhaul” (TBO) is a recommendation– for ordinary general aviation operations under part 91, owners aren’t required to observe that TBO. It’s legal for me to keep flying engines and propellers as far past TBO as I want to. With engines, you can do compression checks, borescope inspections, and oil analysis to get a good idea of the engine’s health– but with propellers, you can only see the visible parts of the prop, and that’s it. There’s no good way to non-destructively inspect the propeller’s components, other than the blades. That’s because the propeller hub isn’t visible when the propeller’s mounted, not to mention that it contains a bunch of seals, springs, and other parts. That’s because this plane uses constant-speed propellers, where the propeller governor changes the blade pitch so that the propeller maintains the commanded RPM even as the engine power changes. (For more on how constant-speed propellers work, this explainer is pretty good). With all that in mind, I decided to go ahead and have the props overhauled since the plane would be down The overhaul process can take a while– the shop I chose, First Flight Propellers in Mississippi, is currently estimating about 4 weeks. This seems like a long time, but the overhaul process is quite involved, plus once the overhaul’s done I’m good for another 6+ years.

Once the propellers have been overhauled, Jon will reinstall them, run the engines for a leak check and general test, Then I’ll pick the plane up when the weather is good and do a test flight of at least 30 minutes, staying in the vicinity of the airport just in case something is amiss. Assuming that goes well, I’ll fly Carmen back to the hangar and enjoy another year of being in compliance with 91.409. I’m looking forward to it!

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Flying Friday: the one with thunderstorms

I lived in the Bay Area for about five years. Among the many weird things I experienced there, one that particularly sticks with me is the way people acted when we got a thunderstorm. They’re quite rare in that part of the country and the arrival of even faint thunder was considered quite an event.

Of course, here in the southeastern US, thunderstorms are as common as pickup trucks, especially in the spring and summer. As I write this, here’s what the airspace near me looks like. When I look out my window, there are plenty of building cumulus clouds, but the real action is off towards Chattanooga.

It’s not necessarily intrinsically harmful to fly into, through, or under falling rain or snow. (Hail isn’t great, though!) However, when rain falls, it displaces air, and the result is that you get updrafts and downdrafts. Those can be harmful. In fact, the common rule of thumb is to avoid flying within 20 nautical miles of the boundary of a thunderstorm (like the one just northeast of the PRONE intersection above). That’s because, in the FAA’s words, “All thunderstorms have conditions that are a hazard to aviation. These hazards occur in numerous combinations. While not every thunderstorm contains all hazards, it is not possible to visually determine which hazards a thunderstorm contains.”

Notice that I was careful to use the word “thunderstorm” and not “rainstorm” or “rain cloud” in the preceding paragraph. That’s the crux of the problem: your eyeball alone can’t tell the difference. Thankfully, we have radar, which is where the image above comes from. There’s lots to say about modern weather radar, and all the modes and capabilities it has, but the best way to think about it from an aviation perspective is that it can show you two important things: is there precipitation in the area you’re going towards, and what are the winds doing?

If you shoot a beam of radar energy into a cloud, some will be absorbed, some will scatter off in various directions, and some will be reflected back to the receiving antenna. By magic, it’s possible to figure out quite a few things about a storm cell based on this reflection and a few other parameters, like the tilt of the antenna. For example, if you look at the Doppler shift of the returned reflections, that tells you something about the relative movement of air and water masses in the beam, which you can use to figure out which way the storm’s moving and, oh yeah, if it is showing signs consistent with the formation of tornadoes.

Anyway, enough about that. What I wanted to talk about today is something radar can’t tell you.

Before I get into that, though, I should spill a dirty little secret. Most of us don’t even have radar in our planes. The FAA broadcasts radar images through a ground-to-air datalink system known as FIS-B. This is worlds better than not having any radar imagery in the cockpit, but it’s super important to know that it’s not a real-time picture. FIS-B datalink images can be up to 15 minutes delayed, which means that they show you where the weather was. That means that what you see out the window is king, not what your FIS-B receiver shows. This is extra true because what the FIS-B radar shows you is a composite picture that tells you there’s precipitation (and if so, roughly how much). It doesn’t tell you at what altitude the cloud based or tops are, how much precipitation is reaching the ground, or much else of use.

With these limitations in mind, you can’t depend on ground-based weather data to distinguish between a rain shower and a giant thunderstorm, the more so because that ground-based data won’t show you where there’s lightning.

In the image above, you can see little blue lightning icons. Each one indicates a lightning strike picked up by what is basically a bare-bones radio receiver– lightning strikes make a hell of a lot of radio-frequency noise (as any AM radio listener can tell you). This noise is in the form of radio waves called sferics. With the right receiver you can pick those sferics up and triangulate their source– even better, you can do that in flight and get accurate, instantaneous real-time lightning data.

Why do you need to know where the lightning is? Because that’s where the thunderstorms are. Thunderstorms can have lightning (duh), extreme turbulence, hail, wind shear, and/or icing– and the only one of these that is easily detected from a distance is lightning. So it’s a pretty good proxy: you won’t ever see lightning if there’s no thunderstorm.

The picture above shows a live display from a recent flight I took from Decatur to Auburn. Each one of those little crosses is a lightning strike. It doesn’t take a Ph.D. to figure out that the more little crosses there are in an area, the less you want to be there. This screen is from a BFGoodrich (yes, them) Stormscope, which is basically this small LCD screen, a small box with a primitive computer in it, and a small array of antennas inside a flat enclosure on the outside of the airplane. The antennas pick up sferics, the computer estimates distance and bearing, and the screen shows you a +. There are newer, fancier models than this– mine was made in 1991– but they all work essentially the same way. In this case, I get a real-time, 360° view of lightning activity at up to a 100-nautical-mile radius, which is pretty great.

Compare what you see on the Stormscope view above with what the FIS-B picture looked like, below. On the bottom display (which is set to “track up”– so that the airplane’s southerly track is towards the top of the display) you can see a bunch of awful-looking red and yellow. I took these pictures a few minutes apart, so they don’t line up precisely, but they’re close enough to get the point across.

Of course, the best solution would be to have real-time in-flight radar and lightning data and ground-based FIS-B. Why?

  • Radar shows you what’s in front of you now, with good resolution and detail
  • A Stormscope shows you whether is lightning (and therefore, thunderstorms) embedded in the clouds you see via eyeball or radar
  • FIS-B feeds can show you radar imagery from the area where you are (including beyond immediate radar range), or over all of the continental US, which is really handy when you want to look ahead towards your destination.

Remember that earlier I said lightning is a good proxy for the presence of thunderstorms. The absence of lightning doesn’t mean you’re good to go, though. You can still have a thunderstorm with no lightning. That’s why a Stormscope alone isn’t enough to keep you out of trouble.

I don’t yet have radar, although this airplane did at one time and still has a good-condition nose radome. Until I equip a radar (which, let’s be honest, probably won’t ever happen), having the Stormscope along makes it much easier to decipher what’s happening in those clouds so I can give them an appropriate berth.

Thunderstorms are a hell of a lot more fun to watch from the ground than to fly through.

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Flying Friday: the one where I didn’t fly to the Bahamas

Some of you may remember two previous articles here: one about dispatch reliability and one about piston engines. If you like, you can consider this one to be titled “on aircraft piston engines, part 3”

One of the best reasons to buy an airplane is to use it to go places. In my case, a big part of the reason for buying a twin was so I could comfortably fly over water, mountains, and other places where a single-engine plane might leave me as an involuntary glider pilot. Not long after I bought Carmen, I started roughing out plans to fly to the Bahamas with Erica, since neither of us had been and there are many out-islands with small airports to visit. Unfortunately, then I made a critical mistake.

See, what had happened was…

The American Bonanza Society is the largest national club for owners of Beech aircraft, including Barons. I could go on for pages about how valuable their magazine and tech support forums have been, but I’ll ask that you take it as stipulated. One of the services they offer is the ABS service clinic, a comprehensive review of an airplane hosted by a master mechanic with long Beech experience. For another post, I’ll talk about the details, but for now, let me just say I was blown away by how much Wayne Whittington taught me in a 90-minute exploration of the guts of my airplane. One of the bonus services included in the clinic is a borescope inspection, performed by a technician from Continental Motors, the company that makes the engines.. This inspection is conceptually simple: you pull out a spark plug, stick a borescope inside, take some pictures, and then examine them looking for signs of badness. These signs might indicate damaged, sticking, or fouled intake and/or exhaust valves, corrosion, space aliens, rude graffiti, and so on. There’s lots of lore concerning how to interpret these pictures and signs. In my case, the examination found this:

This is a thing you do not want to see in your engine

“What is that?” you ask. Well, to the inspector, it looked like a crack in the plating of the cylinder barrel. That brown discoloration is a little unusual but not in itself a bad sign, but a crack in the plating is bad because it might allow part of the plating to break loose and go ricocheting around the engine. Armed with that picture, I ordered a replacement cylinder and made plans to take the plane up to Winchester to let Jon Foote work on it.

A quick digression. Continental makes engines, including the IO-470-L engines on this plane. But these particular engines were built by a gentleman named Bill Cunningham at PowerMasters. He used stock Continental parts to start with but added some other, better parts along the way, including Millenium cylinders from Superior Air Parts. See, one design feature of most piston aircraft engines is that the cylinders aren’t cast into a single block– they bolt on individually and can thus be repaired or replaced individually.

Anyway, I emailed Bill, who said that he hadn’t seen a similar defect and that he would definitely replace the cylinder. For fun, I decided to ask Superior, the cylinder manufacturer, if they wanted to have a look at the cylinder once it was pulled. The gentleman I spoke to there, who owns their QA team and has been manufacturing parts for aircraft engines for nearly 40 years, said he definitely would like to see it and that he definitely wouldn’t fly the cylinder in that condition.

Instead of going to Winchester, I had the cylinder diverted from Winchester to Decatur and dropped the plane off at the local shop. This caused a double-barreled delay: first UPS took a solid week to change the delivery address on the cylinder, then the shop, which is shorthanded just like every other aviation shop on this blessed blue planet, had to fit me into their complicated schedule. I begrudgingly booked tickets on Delta to Nassau. (More on that later.)

The truth is revealed

Finally, the day before we were supposed to leave, the mechanic called. “I pulled that cylinder,” he said. “That’s not a crack or a scratch; it’s just a tooling mark.”

Silence.

“Wait,” I said. “You mean that there’s nothing wrong with it?”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully. “Want me to put it back on?”

Reader, I did want that very much. But in the interest of aviation safety, I decided to put the new cylinder on instead. These engines have been around a while, and I didn’t see the value in putting the old one back on when I already had a new one handy. There’s a degree of risk any time you remove a cylinder, but that ship had already sailed, so overall it was less risky to put the new one on instead, especially because I did want the manufacturer to check out that beauty mark.

Then we went to the Bahamas. Amazing trip, about which more another day. I was a little sad each time I saw the empty apron at Staniel Cay, where my Baron would have fit perfectly, but that didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the trip. What most certainly did diminish it was when Delta cancelled our return flight, then booked us onto another flight that got us home about 1am on Monday morning, 6 hours later than scheduled.

Anyway. later that same Monday morning I texted the mechanic. One of the bushings on the rocker arm for that cylinder was worn and needed to be replaced, so they were waiting on a part which was hopefully going to arrive “early this week.” By the time I got to the airport about 1130 to drop off some oil filters so they could change the oil, the new part had arrived and was installed. By Tuesday afternoon, they’d done a thorough ground run and leak check, and it was time for me to go fly it.

Breaking it in

A brand-new cylinder has to be broken in. The piston rings and the cylinder lining will of course rub against each other; at a microscopic level, you want there to be a nice cross-hatched pattern that allows some oil to lubricate the cylinder-ring interface. so the goal of the break-in procedure is to accelerate this process so that the rings form a tight seal against the cylinder wall. It’s important to keep the cylinder temperature high, but not too high. Superior has a detailed procedure for this, which I followed religiously.

(You might wonder why you don’t have to break in car engines. Fair question– which this article about cylinder finishes helps answer. tl;dr the car engine already has the right finish machined in from the start.)

I flew a break-in flight, following Superior’s recommendation to the letter, in the form of a big triangle: Decatur to Monroe County (KY) to Clarksville (TN), ending up at Thom Duncan Avionics in Fayetteville. They put in a new Avidyne IFD440, which was an adventure in itself, and then I flew home again.

What I learned

I still would much rather have flown myself to the Bahamas, and I hate having spent money replacing a part that, by all appearances, was still serviceable. However, when the guy who built the engine and the engine manufacturer and the cylinder manufacturer all say “I wouldn’t fly that” I am certainly not going to argue with them. I’d make the same decision again today if faced with the same facts. Insh’allah, this cylinder will last for many more years.

The old cylinder has gone back to the factory for inspection. When they’re done with it, I plan to have them overhaul it so I can keep it as a spare; lead times on new factory cylinders can be 4+ months so it’ll be good to have an extra on hand. No word on them quite yet what’s wrong with it.

In the meantime

A postscript: as I mentioned, I finally did make it to Thom Duncan Avionics for a bit of an upgrade. We replaced one of the two ancient Garmin GNS430Ws with a shiny Avidyne IFD440, the smaller sibling of the IFD540 that did so well for me in 706. We had a weird problem where the display and bezel lights of. the IFD would blink off and back on, but the unit worked fine on the bench. After a bunch of trial and error, we determined that was because the cross-fill setting that allows automatic sync of flight planning data between the two GPS units wasn’t working. If you have two Garmin units, or two Avidyne units, great. If you have one of each, you can’t do the sync (which isn’t unexpected) but you’ll get the blinking (which was unexpected, and is also undocumented in the Avidyne install manual).

One of the drawbacks of the 440 is that its screen is smaller, but Avidyne has a very clever solution for this: the IFD100 iPad app, which you can think of like a remote desktop session for your IFD. I found that putting ForeFlight and the IFD100 app side-by-side on my iPad mini worked wonderfully well. As you can see below, there’s a lot of information available. I can use the IFD100 app to have a completely independent view of the data that the in-panel GPS has while still looking at charts, airport info, and so on in ForeFlight.

Because the iPad mini is mounted on a RAM mount on the yoke arm, I can easily flip it 90º. If I want to use both apps together, I put it in landscape mode; if I’m just using ForeFlight (as when I’m briefing and preparing an approach and want to see all the plates), then portrait mode.

I put the new configuration to the test by flying down to Auburn to pick Matt up for his birthday, then flying to Atlanta to go have a bison burger at Ted’s, and then back. It works better than I expected, and it’s making me rethink my original plan to put the larger IFD540 in the panel– I can save quite a bit by keeping the 440 and using the iPad display instead.

In our next episode: what’s a Stormscope, and why would you want one? Stay tuned!

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Flying Friday: the one where I bought another airplane

Meet Carmen!

2022 has been pretty damn exciting so far; I started a new job in January, got married in March, and bought an airplane today. Carmen is a 1968 Beech Baron 55. She got the name after I told my family I was going to San Diego to look at a plane. My sister asked what I was going to name it. I said I didn’t know, and she suggested Carmen… from San Diego… because where in the world… and thus it was done.

The previous owners took great care of the plane, and were willing to let me lease the plane while we got all the loan paperwork squared away, so I’ve already accumulated just over 25 hours, including trips to Texas, Florida, Auburn, and Washington DC. She’s a joy to fly, burning about 45% more fuel to go about 40% faster but with the additional safety of a second engine. My plan is to make minimal upgrades or changes for the next several months while I get more familiar with the equipment that’s already installed, then decide what (if anything) I want to change. As with any 50-plus-year-old airplane, I expect that there will be minor squawks and tweaks required but, because David and Charles stayed on top of major items, I don’t expect anything too heinous.

If you need me for the next few months, I’ll probably be at the airport.

It’s still a little disconcerting to see the propellers on the wings and not right in front of my face

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2021 year in review: flying

In a year when a lot of things weren’t all that great, it turned out to be a pretty good year in the air for me.

First, the top-line totals: 138 hours flown, 21 of which were in multi-engine airplanes. By comparison, in 2020 I flew 78 hours. And, of course, the biggest top-line item: Erica proposed to me, in flight, on our way down to Florida. (If you’re keeping track, that marks the second proposal to take place in my plane while I was flying it, the other being my friend Eric popping the question to his then-girlfriend).

It would have been a gross understatement to say I was surprised
ATC amended my route to include the HEVVN intersection and, upon hearing “heaven,” Erica just went for it.

Second-biggest flying milestone: I got my multi-engine rating. Interestingly, I guess #becauseCOVID, the FAA’s database doesn’t show the new rating yet; thankfully I have a piece of paper signed by my DPE that makes it official, though.

There were some other neat milestones this year as well, including several trips to New Orleans for wedding planning, a half-dozen Angel Flight missions, a midmorning flight into Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson for a visit to the Delta Museum and lunch with my boss, visits to my mom for Mother’s Day and Thanksgiving, an unplanned stop in Mississippi for the worst thunderstorms I’ve ever driven through, and a few trips down to Auburn to visit Matt.

This year’s map is pretty heavy on the southeastern US…

Operationally, the airplane did well this year– no major maintenance problems, no cancelled trips due to maintenance, and no unreasonable expenses. We replaced the old Avidyne MLB100 with a shiny new SkyTrax 200, which means we now have dual-band ADS-B In for traffic, and we took advantage of Aspen’s very generous upgrade offer to replace our EFD 1000 with a new Pro MAX unit that all 3 of us love. We also put in a new set of LED strobes and lights courtesy of Gallagher Aviation and they’re a huge improvement over the old incandescent ones.

Any honest review of this nature has to include a few things that didn’t get done, too. I made two attempts to go back to GATTS to complete my commercial single-engine rating. On the first, the weather was uncooperative; on the second, I just wasn’t prepared to take the checkride and elected to go home instead of blowing up my schedule to extend my visit. There were a couple of trips (including to DC for the Marine Corps Marathon) cancelled #becauseCOVID, and two where we went commercial (Maine and Miami) due to weather-vs-schedule. Those kinds of cancellations are part of flying general aviation, though– it’s not Delta.

2022 goals? Easy. Fly as much as I can; average at least 1 public-service flight (whether that’s for Angel Flight, Pilots and Paws, or whatever) a month; get more multi-engine time, and get either my single or multi commercial rating.

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