Blog
Can Planes Crash from Turbulence?

- Image via Wikipedia
After the recent United Airlines turbulence incident and subsequent news coverage, those with a fear of flying (plus those not afraid to fly!) have been wondering about the wisdom of flying. Especially when flying can lead to turbulence that injured 21 people. A lot of people hate turbulence or fear it, so the email below from Toni is typical of those we received. Capt. Ron’s response follows.
So, I was just reading this CNN article….(dumb, I know). Someone described: ”The plane kept falling out of the sky suddenly and would pitch left and right at sharp angles….”
Is it possible that it would just continue to fall? Can a plane crash from turbulence?
Toni,
Unfortunately this is the truth about turbulence: you must not take it for granted that just because you have never experienced this kind of sudden and unexpected turbulence, that it cannot happen. ALWAYS keep you seat belt fastened. Note that while some people were severely injured, the majority of those on the flight (approximately 270) came through it unscathed. Contemplate that…
The aircraft will not keep “falling” because it never did fall—the lift changed suddenly over various parts of the wings due to the turbulent air flow that they encountered causing it to be “thrust” upward and downward at a rate greater than what gravity could generate if it was simply “falling.”
“Falling” is a term that unknowledgeable passengers and reporters use to describe something foreign to them in an attempt to explain what they perceived happened.
When something so dramatic like this happens, it traumatizes both the people on board and those who have experienced similar events or been in lesser turbulence and imagined themselves in the position like those on the United plane.
It certainly would be traumatizing to experience what these people experienced. But, if EVERYONE had been strapped in securely, we would have been reading only about the otherwise frightening turbulence. And the airplane is designed and built to withstand this dramatic turbulent episode—witness the fact that the airplane came through unscathed except for where the passengers flying through the cabin came in contact with the interior and damaged it.
One of the comments on the article referred to an injured passenger pictured wearing a neck collar. “He’s an idiot. He should have had his seatbelt fastened,” the commenter said.
While that’s true that he should have been belted in, the fact that he was flying along without his seat belt is similar to the problem we pilots have in remaining vigilant. When you fly frequently—either as a pilot or passenger—and everything remains so routine, one can become complacent about such mundane tasks as keeping one’s seat belt fastened. Then incidents like this due to turbulence can catch one by surprise causing harm and/or serious injury.
To chide someone after-the-fact seems to come from the same school of thought as telling a fearful flyer that “it’s all in his/her head.” I’m probably being overly sensitive because of my awareness of the problem of being afraid to fly and knowing that it IS all in our heads, but a fearful flyer acknowledging this doesn’t mean they are able to automatically get over fear of flying.
Jack Canfield taught me a parenting strategy once. He said that often when our children misbehave we send them to their rooms instructing them to “think about what they did.” A better parenting choice would be to tell children to think about “what they could have done.” The latter not only creates a consciousness that alerts them to the fact that their behavior is a choice but also provides them with help in making different choices (assuming we include that as part of the corrective action.)
I choose to believe that reminding someone who went through an experience like this (injured or not) that choosing to remain in their seat with their seat belt fastened as much of the time as possible is a better choice than shaming them for not doing so and will likely produce a positive change in behavior.
So take the lesson offered here so that you don’t become injured. Know that discomfort due to turbulence will end eventually, and both you and the airplane will land together safely. If no one had been hurt, in all probability the crew could likely have continued on to their destination. FYI, the area along the front range of the Rockies where this plane encountered the turbulence can produce some of the most the most troublesome turbulence in the world.
Toni, try to put the CNN coverage in perspective and know that you will neither crash nor experience the kinds of injuries that these people experienced because you will be the SMART flyer who keeps her seat belt on!
Be Well,
Capt Ron
3 Things Pilots Fear

- Image by origamidon via Flickr
As a pilot who makes his living working for the airlines, I’m involved in aviation every day, in one capacity or another. Being a de-facto diplomat for aviation, I love writing articles that might help fearful flyers.
A certain mystery surrounds aviation. Darkness, ethereal haze, or pure magic and sorcery? Truthfully, I’m the wrong person to speculate in such matters; flying has always been as natural to me as walking. But, for most people—particularly people with a fear of flying, flying is not at all natural. With little effort, one can laundry-list the ill-feelings and discomforts. Too, the inconveniences that must be endured at the airports and the total relinquishment of control are anything but pleasant and test the patience of even seasoned travelers. Crew members, including pilots, have been known to reach their limits of tolerance at the madness of the entire airport scene.
So, flying is uncomfortable and unpleasant and most certainly something that the fearful flyer dreads. All these emotions get dumped into a bucket that we summarily label: Fear.
Fair enough. I’ve got something to share with the fearful flyer: Sometimes I experience fear too. What would make an airline pilot fearful, you wonder? The list is not terribly long, so here it goes:
- Thunderstorms. We routinely fly around thunderstorms. From April to November, pilots will be navigating around various areas of thunderstorm activity almost every time we go to work. We don’t fly through them, but we sometimes have to “pick our way around them.” Now, let me explain what this means, and then you can check out the video. We actually look at our on-board weather radar, which paints pretty color pictures of the moisture content of the thunderstorm, and then we stay out of those colored areas. Oh, I can hear it now! You do WHAT? While we trusting passengers read, sleep and fret, you pilot-types are trying to dodge colored blobs on a screen?! Like on a video game? Yep. True story. Surprisingly, very little specific training is provided. We learn this game by years of hard-earned experience and become very good at this mysterious art. The game is deadly serious, and when I start losing, I get scared. Real scared. White-knuckle scared. I remember the terrible nights flying air freight, alone, in poorly equipped piston twins and turboprops. IF the radar worked, I didn’t know how to use it very well, and I had no help. No flying partner. No resources. Nothing like now when we have all the modern resources and wonderfully engineered and beautifully maintained airplanes. Still, thunderstorms scare me. This confession made, I’ve seldom spilled coffee in the cockpit, and virtually all of the flights that involve “picking our way through,” are remarkably smooth and beautiful. Thunderstorms are an awe-inspiring sight to enjoy. From a distance.
- Icy runways and taxiways. Ironically, the airports with major airline service have wonderful snow removal programs. Millions of dollars are spent on personnel and equipment and training. Denver, Minneapolis and Chicago have really impressive operations when the snow flies. Still, the runways can get slick, and, what is almost worse, the taxiways get slick, and they get obscured by low visibility conditions. I landed in New York’s JFK airport on one dark and stormy night. Actually, the First Officer landed the airplane, after shooting a beautiful ILS approach and making a smooth landing on a runway covered with hard-packed snow. It then took most of an hour and a half to taxi several miles to our gate, on taxiways that simply could not be kept clear of snow and ice. That same night, a cargo-carrying jet actually slid off a taxiway and closed part of the airport. It was a white-knuckle operation for me to taxi the airplane and keep the operation safe. Our crew was excellent; the best that the industry had to offer. Teamwork made the operation safe. Still, I’m never completely comfortable, and never completely relaxed, when airport operating surfaces are slick.
- The absolute greatest fear that I have while flying is an old fear: Fire. There are no fire trucks at thirty-nine thousand feet. Sure, we have procedures to fight a fire, but it still takes ten minutes to descend and land, assuming that we are flying over a sizable airport. Assuming that we make an emergency descent to an airport that we can land on, then what? There likely won’t be any planning during such a rare and extreme emergency, so we can do nothing but perform our emergency procedures, and then rely on our experience. I’ve been on fire before, fortunately on the ground, and it turned out to be a relatively low-cost loss of an engine on an old freighter that I was flying. Nobody got hurt, though I was fired… (No pun intended.)
So, pilots have fears too. I developed the ideas for this article while riding around the freeway that circles around and through Phoenix on my Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Why would a sane person ride a motorcycle? Everybody knows that riding is dangerous and filled with risks and countless unknowns. I was not going anywhere. I was completely alone, on a solitary mission to nowhere. Completely pointless? Probably, but I get my best thinking done when I’m riding that Harley, or in the flight deck of an Airbus.
There must be a primal need to risk and overcome. We all have fears. Some days, I don’t ride. Some days, I don’t fly. Occasionally, I pad around in my robe all day, and don’t leave the house. A sixth sense for danger? Perhaps… It would be a good guess that all pilots have this sixth sense. We are a risk averse group of professionals. We are constantly weighing any risk against any potential reward. This characteristic is a large part of what makes airline flight as safe as it is.
This post turned out to be more personal than was originally intended. It is not meant to frighten anyone, but rather, to share and enlighten. We all have fears. Thank you for allowing me to share mine. Unlike the fearful flyer’s fear, mine serves to increase my vigilance and enhance my ability to do my job.
As Nelson Mandela said, “I learned that courage is not the absence of fear but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” I hope we can all conquer our individual challenges.
Today’s guest blogger is Capt. Ron’s friend, Capt. John. He has been flying since 1983 and has logged 20,000 hours. He assists Capt. Ron in the live Phoenix classes when his flying schedule permits.
What’s to Fear about a Short Hop in a Turboprop?

- Image via Wikipedia
During a recent layover in Philadelphia, I had an opportunity to step out of my usual place in the cockpit to fly as a passenger on a commuter flight to visit friends in Harrisburg. Since I am used to piloting an Airbus 319, 320, and 321, this flight in a turboprop took me out of my comfort zone, and I could briefly identify with what it’s like to be a fearful flyer.
The transition from Captain to passenger is truthfully one that many pilots don’t like to make. Like fearful flyers, we aviators don’t like to give up control, but sitting in the back of a turboprop airliner means that I’m not in any kind of control. It has been almost twenty years since I’ve flown this aircraft type, a De Havilland Dash-8, and, even after visiting the cockpit, it didn’t look all that familiar. By itself, this was quite a shock, and the young pilots flying the airplane looked every bit as young as I remembered being. I am grey, and they are not.
So, after the pilot-greeting event, which is a professional courtesy, I clambered into the the aft-most seat on the right side of the cabin, next to a window smeared with the remnants of that morning’s de-ice fluid application.
There wasn’t much to see as the cabin of the Dash-8 is quite small and not terribly long. (It was positively cavernous to me back in 1990!) The seats were comfortable, if somewhat upright. The airplane was well-maintained and clean for the most part. The overhead storage bins were large enough for a briefcase, but the carry-on rolling luggage that folks use these days all had to be tagged at the airstair door of the airplane and put into the cargo bin, which is aft of the cabin. (Another relinquishment of control.)
After the flight attendant closed and locked the cabin door, the airplane slowly came to life. The turboprop engine on the right side of the airplane began to make this electrical dynamo whine, and that great big propeller began to slowly whosh-whosh-whosh with increasing tempo, spinning up to speed. More engine and propeller noise followed as our Dash-8 trundled off the ramp and onto the taxiways. I could see very little from my window and lost track of the airplane’s direction as we taxied toward the departure runway. Soon the other engine made the whine-whosh-whosh-whosh noise as it was started, and the wheel brakes made quiet noises of friction as the pilots used them to moderate the airplane speed on the taxiway. Mumbled announcements from the flight attendant could barely be heard. After a turn onto the departure runway, our aircraft made this great buzzing and rushing sound as it took off into the inky black but crystal clear air.
From my vantage point behind the wing, I could see the right main landing gear, a feat of mechanical engineering. Still, it was quite something to watch these doors open under the engine nacelle as the landing gear leg folded into multiple pieces before being drawn up into this impossibly small void under the engine’s tailpipe. All this would have made a great amount of hydraulic noise, but we couldn’t hear much of it over the roar and buzz of the engines.
The Dash-8 is a good airplane, but it is not a jet airplane. The vibration of the slowly turning propellers provides a safe although not terribly smooth ride. The vibrations caused by the large propellers reminds me of how fatiguing this airplane had been to fly compared to the airplanes I pilot today.
As we fly westward, our aircraft climbed to cruising altitude, which was probably twelve or fourteen thousand feet, or one-third of the normal cruising altitude of a jet airliner. After a few brief minutes smoothly cruising, we began our descent for our landing.
The air was almost perfectly smooth, as it often is after sunset, and as we approached Harrisburg, we could feel the airplane slow, and the vibrations changed as the propeller speed changed. The flaps came down, followed by the landing gear, reminding me of a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. More flaps came down, and I could see the dirty smears of hydraulic fluid, engine oil, and the remains of de-icing fluid on most surfaces. Grey smears over shiny paint–some things never change.
The flight attendant made a brief announcement that nobody could really understand, and a short two or three minutes later, we touched down smoothly onto the runway in Harrisburg, about 40 minutes after the flight began. The fan-like hiss of the propellers going into reverse helped slow the airplane. I watched with mild amusement as red-hot sparks from the metallic brake pads tumbled from the wheel brakes as the pilots braked the airplane down to taxi speed. Yes, this is completely normal. In a jet airplane, we sit above all the machinery and get to miss out on these additional amusements!
With more mumbled announcements from the fight attendant, we taxied to the gate area, and the pilots shut down the engines. We welcomed the sudden quiet before the door was opened. The passengers slowly walked off the airplane with a crablike pace and posture. Luggage was being off-loaded at the same time, so the passengers simply grabbed their bags before scurrying across the chilly ramp and up a staircase into the nearly deserted and brightly lit terminal.
What does all this mean for the fearful flyer, other than a pilot’s travelog? To begin with, I’d like to acknowledge and own my own apprehension about being a passenger on such a small craft with only thirty-seven seats. (Even though that was BIG IRON to me back in 1990!) The smaller turboprop airplanes are not as quiet or a comfortable as the modern jet airliner, of any size. They sound different too, and the cabin comforts are spartan, by comparison to nearly any jet airliner. Flying in an airliner like the Dash-8, you, the fearful flyer, have the added stimulation of watching all the mechanical wizardry of the landing gear and the flaps, and your mind gets to wonder about all the noises that are different, but normal. Definitely more sights, sounds, and sensations to bother a fearful flyer in a turboprop! However, turboprops are used only for shorter distance, commuter travel.
Some very important things are the same as on the larger aircraft. Perhaps most importantly, the flight crew of a Captain, First Officer and one Flight Attendant are every bit as professional as the flight crews flying jet aircraft. The maintenance is done to the same criterion. The rules we follow and the airspace we fly in are the same, as are the runways we use. I was completely confident of my safety on this flight.
Turboprop commuter airliners are a valuable asset to our transportation system. They do feel different, they are different, but they are still safe to fly on. I hope you overcome your fear of flying so you can enjoy the full benefits of our airline system, on an airliner of any size!
Today’s guest blogger is Capt. Ron’s friend, Capt. John. He has been flying since 1983 and has logged 20,000 hours. He assists Capt. Ron in the live Phoenix classes when his flying schedule permits.
Volcanic Ash Shows Air Travel at Its Best and Worst

- Image by Sverrir Thor via Flickr
Takeoffs, turbulence, thunderstorms…fearful flyers worry about a lot of the same things. This week, Mother Nature delivered a new twist to the fear of flying worry list: a volcano and volcanic ash from the eruption in Iceland.
Exactly what is the big deal with this big white cloud that has grounded so many passengers? What was it that made flying so bad that 95,000 flights were canceled and 29% of all air travel was affected? And maybe some are wondering whether aviation officials are just being a little silly–it’s only a cloud and planes fly through clouds every day.
No question that flying in a region of volcanic ash can be hazardous. This is for a variety of reasons. The most obvious is that ash has a pumice-like quality. As such, it is very abrasive and can cause excessive wear on the engine parts—specifically the compressor blades (“cold” or front section of the engine) or the turbine (“hot” section where the combustion takes place). This can in turn change the properties of the airflow through the engine from its original design. The worst case scenario would be to reduce performance and thrust and possibly even flame out. Other collateral damage can be the clogging of sensors both inside the engine and on the exterior of the airplane that feed into the computers.
This volcano in Iceland has been particularly problematic in that its location combined with upper air winds caused it to “clog” the North Atlantic air routes and hover over Western Europe, one of the most heavily traveled parts of the world. In addition, the ash cloud seemed to “hover” over Europe rather than be transitory at altitudes between 20,000 and 35,000 feet, which are the prime altitudes of turbojet airplanes.
Why can’t the airplanes fly above or below the ash? Because flying above would require flying through it on ascent and descent. Flying below would result in an inordinately high fuel consumption and significantly reduce the payload in favor of carrying more fuel.
Concern about airline management pressing to resume operations to salvage the “bottom line” would be valid were it left to them alone for the decision to allow airplanes to resume their operations. But as is the case with so many aspects of airline operations, the airline industry is highly regulated, and the decision belongs to a host of regulatory agencies, in this case, ones that are in several countries. In addition to the regulatory agencies, the pilots who will be on board and have a healthy self-protective nature will not fly with any concerns for safety.
This whole incident just goes to show you that the airline industry has safety as its number one concern.
Every day somewhere on the globe exists a volcano erupting. For instance, Alaska alone has 130 volcanoes and volcanic fields, and those make up three-fourths of the U.S. volcanoes over the last 200 years. But, like so many other troublesome problems that come into the awareness of fearful flyers and the traveling public at large, without this latest occurrence, the average air traveler would not have given volcanic ash a second thought.
As the effects of the cloud lessen, aviation operations resume and weary travelers gladly board airliners. As the Iceland volcano becomes “yesterday’s news,” we’ll have to wait until the next crisis. Until then, don’t forget that flying is the safest way to travel on the planet—even when it means that a volcano has grounded a lot of flights.
Pill-Popping Pilots–Are You Kidding Me?

- Image by PaDumBumPsh via Flickr
An email from recovering fearful flyer Regina was directed this week to Capt. Ron:
WHAAAAATTTTTT the FAA is going to allow pilots to fly while taking antidepressants???? (&_(*M&*$N)C(@*MX)@ What airlines are this dumb? And to agree with the FAA on this one? Passive aggressive and suicidal behavior are side effects anyone knows –(at let’s face any age on those puppies) – yes I know the pilot doesn’t want to die either and he sits up front! But but but he may become irrational and whatz his home life that he left that morning like?
But… not to worry, I am fine and will continue to fly from point A to point B, happily, how else would I get around? But perhaps while slipping back into fearful flyer mode just a hair.
Capt. Ron’s Answer:
Antidepressants for pilots…I hate to tell you this but it’s long overdue. I have been a proponent of the FAA allowing pilots to take certain medications for depression for years for two main reasons: the first is that there are and have been pilots taking antidepressants for years, and this will bring the issue into the light and allow them to be properly administered and directed; the second reason is because some pilots NEED them.
The airline industry has been a leader (even over the medical profession) in drug and alcohol awareness and prevention. The drug of choice for many pilots has always been alcohol. Until the program was developed for a pilot to seek treatment and then enter an intense monitoring program, there were many pilots whose drinking was either unnoticed or ignored. And not surprisingly, many had underlying depression as an accompanying malady. Now the airline industry has the most successful record in any industry for returning pilots with the lowest recidivism (less than 1%). The medical community has modeled their program for drug and alcohol abuse after ours.
The Delta crash at DFW in 1987 disclosed that the pilot had antidepressants in his blood in the post-crash autopsy. When you listen to the cockpit voice recorder, there is a noticeable non-responsiveness on the part of the captain to his First Officer’s query about “lightning coming out of that one”:– the area of weather ahead of them resulting in the fateful windshear that proved fatal.
Thirty years ago we didn’t have any of the knowledge of brain science, depression, and the current vast array of treatments including the variety of medications that we have today. Currently, if a pilot admits to being depressed and is formally diagnosed, he/she automatically loses his/her medical and career. That is senseless when current medications exist (combined with mandatory counseling and monitoring) that would permit him/her to continue without cause for concern. Think of the alternative where the fear of losing your livelihood and accompanying income results in either self-medicating with alcohol or medications obtained on the sly.
Despite the current policy of random screening for alcohol and drugs, some pilots will gamble out of fear and ignorance to preserve their jobs.
Yes ma’am, I’m a strong proponent of a program to provide for monitoring pilots with depression issues keeping the problem “in the Light” and out of the shadows where it has been for years.
Finally, let me speak to the issue of pilots taking antidepressants to which I have alluded. The randomness of the problem combined with the ever-increasing technological advances in aviation minimize the possibility of a “perfect storm” of circumstances coming together is such a way where a pilot on antidepressants contributed in the slightest to an accident. But, that should never serve to excuse our failure to be vigilant in this area.
When we know better, we do better. And we have known for a long time that identifying pilots with depression and treating them appropriately is not only the right thing to do, but the safest thing.
Keep your eye on the ball…the problem with fear of flying is obsessive thinking as a means of feeling in control. And the feeling is an illusion. One thing I have admired about you, as well as the many other fearful flyers I meet, is your insatiable thirst for information. Keep it up. Don’t settle for all that’s available in the media. For that matter, as Wayne Dyer says: ”Don’t believe everything that you think.” We fall prey to our own brains sometimes.
Happy Landings,
Capt. Ron


![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_b.png?x-id=d23002a0-992f-4ea2-b15d-d3894287d893)
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_b.png?x-id=02153168-88cd-4b6c-8802-56c368bdcb82)
