The Pipistrel Virus, a light sport aircraft designed in Slovenia, won NASA’s Comparative Aircraft Flight Efficiency (CAFE) Foundation’s title as the most efficient aircraft in the world. The rigorously exacting competition focused on noise, cruise speed, and fuel burn.
Using space-age instrumentation, NASA’s CAFE Foundation proved that the Virus had the shortest takeoff distance, the highest climb rate, the steepest climb angle, the highest top speed and the lowest fuel burn. It also was tied for the quietest cabin noise.
I myself could barely hear the engine. Then Neil made it quieter by turning the engine off. In mid-air. But I’m getting ahead of my story.
When I first visited Pattaya Airpark, Neil let me fly the Pipistrel Virus, the flagship of his fleet. We soared over Pattaya’s beaches, and I couldn’t tell which entranced me more – the spectacular view outside, or the data on the instruments inside.
In the last photo above, we are in level flight in a steep 45-degree bank, at just 40 knots. Every powered airplane I’ve flown would fall from the sky with that loading, at that frugal an airspeed. The lightest whisper of airflow over this wing’s sensuous surface kept us aloft.
The Pipistrel Virus has a glide ratio of over 17:1. For every 200 feet it descends, it glides well over 1.5 miles. A hefty three miles from Pattaya Airpark, Neil turned the engine off. Theory was about to become practice.
In the photo above, the propeller is frozen. We still need to fly over the runway, at left, fly right downwind and base, and land from the opposite direction.
We flew over the airfield. At mid-downwind, we were at 547 feet MSL, descending 500 feet per minute at 65 knots. Two-mile pattern, a minute per mile … I did the math furiously in my head.
The “0” and the stationary propeller said it all. Zero RPM. The engine was off.
On base leg, we were at 255 feet, 57 knots. In the movie Always, Pete (Richard Dreyfuss) flew a similarly impaired A-26 to an airfield surrounded by pine trees, dead stick. I knew the dialogue by heart.
Pete: [right engine out of fuel and dead] Tanker 57 to tanker base. I’ve got a small inconvenience here.
Tower: Talk to me Pete.
Pete: I may have overestimated my fuel just a tad, but I can see the base from here and my right engine is fine, so I don’t think there’s going to be any…
[left engine also runs out of fuel and whines to a stop]
Pete: … problem.
Tower: Pete, what do you need? What do you need?
Pete: [both engines now dead] Glider practice.
Tower: [rings the crash alarm and announces over the PA] We’ve got a situation here. We’ve got a flier coming in dead stick.
Pete: This is good. I was rusty on panic. OK, no problem, I’ve got the airport in sight, … .
As we turned onto final approach, the vertical speed, incredibly, was zero. In a 30-degree bank, we were in level flight, maintaining altitude, with no power.
It was a solid performance by a master aviator thoroughly familiar with the airplane’s capabilities. Neil often landed the Virus dead-stick. He knew exactly how it behaved without power.
I loved every minute of that flight.
I will so miss flying with Neil.
Written on CX879, San Francisco to Hong Kong
Posted from Singapore, February 14, 2013.
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Thanks, Tonet! Sounds like a great plane.
Ron (PS – don’t miss the CX business travel at all!)
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“Do the maths “FURIOUSLY in the head”…..I like that phrase.
The Math is really important, it helps us avoid aukward turns may it be PFL’s (Practice Forced Landings) or normal circuit procedures. Sometimes I get tempted to disregard the mathematics and fly by experience that leads to aukward maneuvers because humans as we are, we have the “glitches” (the time between data recieved from the eyes, processing, to exectution for correction). Glitches may happen a fraction of a second to a few seconds depending on level of correct anticipation.
Just now, I found the pinpoint……”Do the maths FURIOUSLY in the head” that will provide a solid track/ baseline incase glitches occur. 🙂
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Josef, thanks for sharing your comment. The reason pilots get dangerous at around the 100-500 hour level is that they build confidence in the seat of their pants, and feel that they can ‘wing it’, or shepherd the airplane safely past a critical point or stage, using the intuition and experience they have earned. But, as you point out, it takes time for us to react, and also we are certainly not infallible. Doing the math is a process or sanity check. It doesn’t matter if the math says you are 10 seconds too low, or 1,000 seconds too low — if you are too low to glide long or far enough to make the field, then you are too low.
I also realize now that I would never do again what I used to so confidently do 300 or so hours ago. That trip home with Carlo from Jomalig in scud. That thunderstrom en route to Vigan. VFR in IMC. Ooooh, the confessions are painful, but they were learnings too.
I love your stories about flying ‘math’ and your IAF instructors. Someday we should share them!
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I love that phrase again. “sanity check” we pilots get adrenaline overload like chocolates!
Another is “painful confessions” like children would have growing pains when they increase height. 🙂
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Hi Tonet
I have found your nice blog, which I really like it. I enjoyed to read your adventures.
I was wondering if you would be interested in sharing your posts and experiences on Glipho? It’s a quite new social publishing platform for bloggers like you. 🙂
Monika
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