A Letter to Cirrus Aircraft: Please Fix Your Plane

Bill King
Vice President of Business Administration
Cirrus Aircraft
Duluth, Minnesota 55811
 

Dear Bill: 

I own one of your aircraft. There are some nice things about the Cirrus. But a few things, from a safety standpoint, really suck. First, the doors don’t stay closed. Second, too many pilots and passengers are getting killed when pilots try to land the thing. Third, the fuel gauges don’t work.

I read your comments on each of these issues in today’s Duluth News Tribune. Considering that they come from a company that prides itself on “celebrating safety,” I found some of the comments disturbing.

The doors.

Bill, they pop open. A lot. It’s always a distraction when it happens. If they pop open at a bad time, it can spell real trouble. More on that here

I read how you flew from one airport to another a few weeks ago with a door that wasn’t shut, and

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Pilot in Senator Stevens Crash a Hero?

The pilot of the Otter that crashed in Alaska on Monday, killing Senator Stevens and three other passengers, encountered some very bad weather.  Low ceilings.  Fog and rain.  Gusty winds.

Rugged terrain only complicated things.  Fortunately, the pilot had tons of experience  -- tens of thousands of hours.  According to the Alaska Dispatch, had any less talented pilot been at the controls, the death toll surely would have been higher.

The fact there were four survivors is testament to [the pilot's] skills. [He] maneuvered that plane like no other mere pilot to save lives.

So is the pilot a hero?  No.  Not quite.

There's an old saying in aviation: "a superior pilot is one who exercises superior judgment so as toN455A by jkero avoid having to exercise his superior skills."  In this case, a pilot exercising superior judgment might have turned around before tangling with the worst of the weather.  Or, better yet, never left the comfort and safety of the lake lodge in the first place.

The Weather was Bad 

When the pilot took off from the lake where the lodge was located, the weather was bad.  It was bad at nearby Dillingham airport.  It was bad at the river camp that was to be their destination.  And it was bad everywhere between.

A pilot who flew the same valley where the crash occurred confirmed to the LA Times that it was bad there too.  "It was just awful weather. . .I came through that valley at about 100 feet off the ground with about a mile of visibility."

Now, bad weather doesn't mean a good pilot must stay on the ground.  For example, the airport at Dillingham has various instrument approach procedures that will allow planes to land safely in some pretty crappy weather. No undue risk. No sweat.

But this pilot wasn't headed to Dillingham.  He was headed to a fishing camp on a nearby river.  No instrument approach procedure would guide him through the clouds.  If this pilot was going to get there, he’d have to do it without instruments. He’d have to do it by looking out the window.  Seat of the pants stuff.  All perfectly safe, as long as the weather is good enough for you to see where you are going.

Controlled Flight into Terrain

So what exactly happened?  What we know about the accident is consistent with "controlled flight into terrain."  Opting out of the instrument flight system, the pilot had to stay under the Senator Stevens Plane Crash Wreckageclouds.  He couldn't go through them because once inside, he wouldn't be able to see and might bump into something hard and pointy.  So he had to stay in the clear and visually pick his way around the terrain in his path.  But as he maneuvered under the low clouds and around the fog, he suddenly came upon a mountain's steep up-slope.  He shoved the throttle forward, pulled the nose up and began a climb.  But the terrain rose faster than could his aircraft.  He bellied onto the rising slope while in full control of a perfectly functioning aircraft.

At least that how it looks.

According to John Bouker, the pilot who found the wreck: 

The Otter had plowed into the hill. He bounced up the mountain. He looked like he was in a full-power climb. . the plane appeared mostly intact.

That’s a classic "controlled flight into terrain” scenario.


Poor Decision Making   

This morning a pilot who used to fly search and rescue out of Dillingham called me to talk about the crash.  He pointed out that the state of Alaska accounts for more than a third of all commuter and air taxi crashes in the entire country.  That's right: one state accounts for a third of all the nation's crashes.  And more than 80 percent of those crashes are due to poor decision-making.

Alaskans seem to accept aviation tragedies as part of life in the wilderness.  My caller suggested that poor decision making seems to be not just tolerated, but sewn into the very fabric of Alaskan aviation community. 

The question is not the whether the pilot had the skills to “maneuver” the aircraft around difficult terrain. Or whether he had the experience necessary to pick his way around the obstacles along the route. Or whether he brought the aircraft down with the least impact possible.  The question is whether, given the weather, he should have attempted the flight at all.

I can easily imagine that a nice fire was burning in the lodge fireplace when the pilot loaded up his passengers. If ever there was ever a flight that didn't need to be made, it was this one. 

Yet it was.  

Cirrus Crash at Deer Valley, Arizona: Door Opened (Yet Again. . .)

Cirrus N146CK crashed on August 4 at Deer Valley, Airzona.  The pilot was killed.  Just before the accident, the aircraft's door popped open.  We know that because the pilot reported to air traffic control that his door was open and that he needed to return to the airport to close it.  Plus, surveillance cameras confirmed that the pilot's door was indeed ajar. 

The plane's door popped open? What's with that? 

The Cirrus doors are poorly designed.  It's that simple. They just don't stay shut in flight.  

The plane flies okay after a door pops open.  But the distraction can be dangerous, and can lead to a loss of control, as demonstrated by this 2009 Cirrus crash.  Following the 2009 accident, John

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Res Ipsa Loquitur and the Aviation Accident: When the Evidence is Destroyed in the Crash

When the evidence needed to reconstruct an aviation accident is lost or destroyed in the crash, can the victim nonetheless hold whoever caused the accident accountable?

Yes, if the legal doctrine of "res ipsa loquitur" apples -- Latin for "the thing speaks for itself."

Most courts recognize that air crashes do not normally occur unless someone, somewhere, was negligent.  It’s just a matter of who.  If circumstances point to one particular person above all others, then "the thing speaks for itself," and that person can be held accountabe even without any physical evidence to prove the case.

Let’s say an airplane's engine fails and the plane crashes. The pilot survives but is badly injured. The key engine components are either battered beyond recognition, destroyed by the post-crash fire, or never located. Under the circumstances, it may be impossible to ever determine exactly why the engine failed.  There may be little chance of determining from the wreckage who was responsible for the accident.

Now assume that engine work had been performed on the plane just before the accident. Under the circumstances, one might suspect that the engine failed because the mechanic who performed the engine work did something wrong.  Of course, there are other possible explanations for the engine failure as well.  But if the injured pilot can prove that the mechanic's work is the most likely explanation, a judge or jury may decide that the maintenance shop is responsible, even without any physical evidence to rely on.

To invoke the doctrine of res ipsa loquitur against the maintenance shop in this example, the injured pilot must prove that:

  1. The engine would not have failed unless someone was negligent;
  2. The maintenance facility had exclusive control of the engine during the key time period (that is, only the facility's own mechanics had access to the inside of the engine when it was opened up); and
  3. The pilot did not cause or contribute to the engine failure (by, for example, running out of gas).

Even if there isn't enough physical evidence to determine how or why the engine failed, if the pilot can prove all these three things, he may nonetheless be able to hold the shop responsible for his injuries.