YET, you have flown air tankers which is one of the riskiest jobs in aviation. I have spoken to few pilot who have flown tankers, and obviously they are very safe pilots, yet the inherent risks are there and cannot be elimnated.
Flying tankers isn't about accepting risk, any more than any other kind of utility flying. It's about eliminating it. I don't approach flying an air tanker any different than I do flying a passenger leg in a certificate operation. I look at every aspect of the flight, before it ever starts, and work to eliminate risk.
When you or I line up today for a takeoff, we have precalculated our takeoff distance. We have refusal speeds, we have proceedures to undertake in the event of engine failures, equipment losses, etc. We don't execute the takeoff without a full fare of backup proceedures and the performance to handle whatever conceivable emergency might arise.
Flying a tanker is no different. From daily briefings about airspace, weather, hazards, relative humidities, fuel moistures, resource availabilities, etc, to the aircraft preflight, to systems checks and all that goes with flying on a normal sortie, we do every bit as much preparation. When we depart we have frequencies locally, enroute, at the fire, and for troops on the ground as well as air contacts. We have a list by aircraft callsign of all the aircraft going to the fire or that are expected to get called to the fire. We have a listing of hazards, obstacles, etc. We're even briefed on powerlines that might be out there. If we're entering airspace that needs coordination, a dispatch center jumps on it, and we work with them before we ever get there.
Approaching the fire there are specific proceedures and limitations as to how far we can go before establishing communications. We have a nocom ring which we can't enter without being in full communication, and for inexperienced pilots, there are special proceedures requiring aerial supervision and other aircraft on site, as well as daylight and weather requirements. Over the fire, we plan the drop carefully, have exits planned in the event of an emergency, and treat it just as professionally and carefully as any other aspect of professional aviation. Perhaps more so because we realize the significance of what's out there.
Risk? It's not about accepting risk, it's about eliminating it. I may be given a direction by an incident commander or an air attack, an air supervision module (ASM) or a Leadplane. I will evaluate it based on the existing ambient conditions, my aircraft performance, the potential outcome with respect to the drop and effectiveness, the fuel, the exit and entry to the drop, etc. If I don't like it, I refuse it, or tell the person with whom I'm working how it can better be done. We work together. In some cases, another aircraft without a load, a leadplane or ASM, goes down there and makes the run before me, checks it for exit, hazards, turbulence, winds, etc. We don't leave things to chance, and we avoid risk like the plague.
All someone need say is "safety of flight," and there's no arguing about it. If I see something over the fire that's not safe and say so, there is no more discussion about it; that word is now law. Anybody out there can do the same thing, and that observation is going to be respected. And we do it, too.
I got a commendation for the previously mentioned landing in which I called for the trucks; it was a safety award. The agencies and the personnel in them place a very high premium on safety for ground and air operations. Even though it occured during a very active and very violent fire when air support was desperately needed, and even though the aircraft ended up being down for four days away from it's home base and unable to support the fire at it's busiest time, no questions were asked, because taking risk and chance isn't part of the operation. Everybody works hard as a team to eliminate it.
We load retardant, and someone takes specfic gravity readings of the loaded or loading product to ensure that it's weight is correct, which is critical to an already heavy aircraft. Safety personnel are available on the ground to ensure nobody gets hurt when I'm hotloading, looking the aircraft over for damage, ensuring that I have water in a very hot cockpit, or anything else I need. We do everything possible in every way to ensure that we're available and alive to do it again tomorrow. This isn't a thrill seeking business; it's a professionally run operation. It's not about taking risks, it's about coming home at the end of the day to do it again.
Why give a guy grief and talk down to him for doing something you wouldn't do yourself?
Precisely for that reason. Because I won't do it, because I know it's dangerous, and a big risk. Because I feel strongly enough about it to say something.
A pilot was lost over a fire a few years ago. Gary Nagel, flying an S-2, was killed on a fire in California. It was very rough on that fire. A leadplane was rolled over and damaged over the fire; winds and turbulence can make it a violent place. But something happened in which the system broke down. That fall at the biennial meeting in Reno, several pilots stood to say that they knew it was bad, they thought it was dangerous. They were waiting for someone to shut the show down, to call it for safety reasons and put everybody on the ground. It wasn't until Gary was killed that someone finally took that step.
I don't believe in waiting that long, or remaining silent. Nor do I feel any great drive to remain exceptionally tactful about it when the point is worth making. I've never been one for tapdancing around the hat.
I flew on a fire on a very steep area southeast of Grangeville, ID, some years ago, in a PB4Y-2. Two tankers were assigned to the fire, with a number of ground troops working it directly. It was very steep, in a canyon, and the winds were stiff. It didn't look too bad on the approach, but on our drop, we got slammed hard. I made the call. The person with whom I was flying wanted to return when we were given the call we long to hear "Load and Return." I said no. He said yes, and I told him fine, you come back here on your own...which wasn't happening. The air attack officer overhead listened, and grounded both tankers from off the fire. Smart move. The other tanker, coming out of McCall, wasn't happy, and was very vocal about not being happy with my decision. I was in the doghouse, but it was a safety related call, which I stand by today, which I've made before, and will make again.
Single engine IFR? Single pilot IFR is by far the most dangerous thing we can do in general aviation. We fly instruments such that it's a routine thing today, but single engine single pilot IFR in a small underpowered limited performance piston airplane with limited nav and com capability, no autopilt or auto flight control system, and failure-prone systems is chock full of risks that cannot be eliminated or even scarcely mitigated. It's about accepting the risk, which is an unprofessional and unsafe act...generally undertaken by the inexperienced and those who haven't lived or flown long enough to know better.
In your posts you come across as extreamly cautious, almost to a flaut.
I certainly hope so, because that's how I am in person, too.
I'm alive for that very reason. Perhaps not tomorrow, for that I can't say. But today, I am. A combination of caution, learning the hard way, and taking great pains to learn from other's mistakes in order to not repeat them...I sincerely believe whence I speak, and for that reason, I'm not quick to keep quiet about those beliefs.
If others choose not to listen, that's their choice and their problem, but somethings need to be said.
