primetimepilot
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My annual migration to Florida—one week of sun, fun, golf (not fun), and no work. In past years, we (my friends and I) have spent a day cruising the gulf-fed mangrove islands of Florida's western coast in high performance fishing boats looking for the next big catch. However, this year I decided I would do something different, something I have wanted to do for a while, trade the fishing boat for one with wings. During a two-day seaplane training course, I could obtain my license to fly seaplanes, provided I could pass the FAA checkride.
There are a number of places throughout the United States that offer courses like this, but because of its reputation and location, I chose Jack Brown's Seaplane Base in Winter Haven, Florida. Since 1962, Brown's has trained more than 15,000 seaplane pilots from all over the world, including Phil Boyer from AOPA and Country Singer Allen Jackson.
The course spanned two days, included just less than 6 hours of flight time, 2 hours of ground school, and an FAA checkride.
On the first day, I arrived at 8:30 am and met my instructor, David. He was a laid-back boy from Georgia with a quiet tone and never stopped laughing. He was in his upper 20's and had grown up around aircraft—his family owned a cargo carrier. He said when he was little his playground was DC-3's. He is an A&P (aircraft mechanic) and flight instructor, with most of his time being in DC-3's.
We started the first day with 1-on-1 ground school. However, a student before me was having difficulty with some of the flying and required additional training with David and then with another instructor. Because of this, our ground school was delayed until David got back. Considering the beautiful lakes and trees around the area, it was not hard to sit back on the dock and wait a bit.
During ground school, we covered all of the various techniques for taxiing, taking off, landing, "sailing," mooring, and docking the plane on/from the water and the importance of interpreting winds and ... boaters. There was a lot to grasp, but it was helpful that Brown's had sent me a study guide weeks beforehand and I had read it and the FAA Aircraft Flying Handbook.
After ground school, we made our way out to one of the two Piper J-3 Cubs, each dressed in the quintessential Piper yellow, I would be flying over the next two days. The first J-3 weighed in mightily (sarcasm) at 1300 lbs (gross—with fuel and both of us) and had a whooping 85hp engine. Surprisingly, the 85hp engine is 20hp more than it originally came with when it was built in 1946. The second J-3 was considered a powerhouse with its 100hp engine. Much to my surprise, that extra 15 hp of the second J-3 would prove to be a huge difference over the course of the two days. Both of these Cubs worked hard to lift 400lbs worth of pilots and two large floats dangling from the bottom off the water, not to mention the whooping 12 ½ gallons of fuel.
The Piper J-3 Cub is a wonderfully simple plane—no fuel pumps to worry about, no mixture or prop control, nothing much at all, just simply a stick extending up from the floor and a throttle on the left. The entire instrument panel consists of an altimeter, airspeed indicator, tachometer, oil pressure gauge, oil temperature, and compass. However, the only two seats in the J-3 are arranged in line front to back—one seat in front (passenger) and one seat in back (pilot). Because I am the "pilot" and the instructor is the "passenger," those gauges are pretty much worthless since they cannot be seen very well from the back seat, especially when the passenger is 220lb. Luckily, they really are not needed for anything, except to set the proper engine RPM during cruise flight.
As with all planes, preflighting is absolutely necessary. However, in the case of a seaplane, it is crucial to make sure the floats are properly inspected and pumped. The floats on these particular Cubs were Aqua 1500's, which means that each one displaces 1500 lbs of fresh water. They are larger than the minimum sized called for in the FAA regulations, but I was not complaining. Each float includes seven compartments separated by bulkheads that enable multiple compartments to be flooded without causing the plane to sink. Before each flight, these compartments must be pumped with a hand-operated bilge pump to make sure the floats are clear. One quickly masters this process....even if they do not want to.
As soon as we fired up that 100hp engine, we were boating. There are no brakes and there are no anchors, so when the big fan on the front is running, you are moving. We are a boat, and at idle power, a slow one at that. Quickly, I reached for the handle that is hanging from the hook nearby. Lifting the handle off the hook and letting it fall to the floor lowers the water rudders. Without the water rudders in the water, you are hard pressed to turn the plane. Without the water rudders down, the plane is simply a big weathervane sitting on the water. From the very beginning, you become quite adept at reading the wind: where's the glassy band, where are the waves, are there any streaks, which way are the birds landing, etc. When all else fails or you need a quick, tight turn into the wind, just raise the water rudders and wait. You will be pointing straight into the wind in no time.
Even from the first takeoff, you start to learn the balance between aerodynamic drag and hydrodynamic drag. The stick is first held full aft to keep the prop out of the water spray (20 seconds of water spray can irreparably erode the prop). Full power is advanced and the nose rises out of the water to a first level. You continue to hold the stick aft until the nose rises to a second level. While gently allowing the nose to come back down the plane quickly accelerates while on "plane" (seaplane pilots call this being on "step"), similar to a boat getting up on plane. The aircraft is now going about 40 mph across the water as you balance these drags. Now we are a speedboat. Finally, we ease off the water and become a plane again.
We are quickly at our "cruise" altitude. It is quick not because of the whooping 100 hp, but instead because we never climbed over 500 feet about the ground/water. With over 50 lakes within 10 miles, there simply was not a need.
Now we start jumping from lake to lake. We typically do 3-4 touch-n-go's or full stop landings on each lake and then make our way to another lake. The name of the game is "friendly neighbors," so we do not want to over stay our welcome on a lake.
"Normal" takeoffs and landings are simply a matter of not fighting the plane. During the takeoff, simply maintain a slight nose up attitude without letting the plane porpoise (nose undulates up and down). The plane flies itself off the water. A normal landing is simply cutting the throttle when you have the water made, dive toward it, flare the plane at about 10-15 feet above the water and ease it onto the water.
Rough water takeoffs and landings are a bit more precarious as they require more attention to the waves and maintaining the proper nose attitude. During a rough water landing, during the flare, you simply add a touch of throttle (similar to a soft field landing) along the backside of the power curve. During a rough water takeoff, similar to a soft field takeoff, you get the plane airborne as soon as possible and accelerate while remaining within about 10-15 feet of the water.
However, the real king of landings and takeoffs in seaplanes and the most dangerous is probably the one water condition that seems the safest—glassy water. The problem with glassy water takeoffs is that there are no waves to reduce the drag on the floats. Therefore, more of the float is in the water and it is harder to get the beneficial air layer under the float to reduce the drag. Therefore, during a glassy water takeoff, we "tilt" the plane to one side to lift one float completely out of the water while balancing on the other to reduce the amount of hydrodynamic drag by 50%. We hold this one float out of the water until we lift off. It is an exciting maneuver.
However, the granddaddy of them all is the glassy water landing. Because glassy water is so deceiving from above, we can no longer rely on our own ability to see it. Therefore, we have to trust that if we pitch the plane to a predetermined attitude and set the correct throttle RPM, the plane will gently sink until it lands. Therefore, in practice, we fly a pattern around the lake and on final approach we chose a Last Visual Reference point (LVR to a seaplane pilot). The LVR can be a tree, some reeds, a rock, or anything other than the glassy water. We cut the power, dive down toward the LVR, fly over it at about 10 feet, and set the nose attitude of the plane and add the power. All this has to be done before you fly over the LVR. And then you wait. And wait, until touchdown. We don't try to anticipate the landing because often times that can lead to flaring too high and possibly capsizing the aircraft when it finally impacts the water. Since we descended at about 100-150 feet per minute, it is important that you select a low LVR if the lake is small. Otherwise, you are landing on the other side. (not good)
Seaplane pilots in Florida learn something quickly—if you botch your landing, you might have some visitors of the alligator persuasion.
After two days of flying with David, I have one last hurdle—the checkride. The FAA designated examiner for my ride is none other than Jon Brown, son of Jack Brown. Jon Brown has been running Jack Brown's Seaplane Base for 28 years, since his dad's death. I found out later that Jon was the youngest FAA Designated Examiner when he received it at the age of 28. He is now the longest active Examiner in the country.
Jon tested me on many of the nuances and regulations of seaplane flying, both FAA and Nautical, during the oral exam. After that, we made our way to the plane for the practical portion of the checkride. We performed all of the various taxiing, takeoffs, landings, mooring, and docking techniques. But most notably was when he asked me to perform a step taxiing turn and takeoff. This basically requires me to start the takeoff run at an angle to the wind, bring the aircraft up on "step" (plane across the water), and tip it onto one float while simultaneously turning it into the wind and taking off. It was very difficult, yet very exciting to do it. This technique is used to take off on lakes that are not wide enough to give you a long enough takeoff run.
After completing all of the tasks and returning to the base, he asked for a simple "normal" landing and told me to keep the plane "on step" afterward and taxi to the dock. Much to my delight, the aviation gods were with me, that Cub settled beautifully onto the water, and we step taxied back to the base. It even elicited a "niiiiiicccee landing" comment from Jon himself.
Therefore, after tormenting me by saying nothing, Jon finally congratulated me when we got back inside and we did my paperwork for my new "Single Engine Land & Sea" license.