Kids of today . . . kah!
I suppose I'm unusual in having done lots of blind landings on basic instruments. However, I hasten to add every one had a safety pilot in the loop. For one very happy winter that pilot was Col. Carl Crane, an aviation pioneer and by then honorary lecturer at the Advanced Instrument Flying School/department at RAFB San Antonio Texas. He couldn't tell them much about the modern kit, but by god, he'd got a tale or two to tell. It had all started when he'd tumbled out of the clouds in an open cockpit biplane - with a senator's son on board. He spent the next few years trying to convince pilots that they should believe their instruments. Many agreed, but argued that they seemed to go wrong when in cloud. It was a long hard struggle and included throwing hooded pigeons from aircraft. Mostly, the poor little things para-glided back to earth. Another thing he tried was a huge pinging cone in the belly of the aircraft and stethoscopes to tell when he was near the ground. Yes, he used a big field.
Carl's modern prototype was the subject of one of his patents. Landing after landing, on the line and as soft as you'd like. All achieved with pressure instruments.
Keeping on the centreline. Mmmm, sudden changes in power at a crucial moment? Not sure about that, but heck, it worked, so his machine-like accuracy allowed him to overcome any resultant swing. Neat.
When I had the temerity (in the early days of pprune) to suggest that taking the Turn & Slip instrument* out of transport aircraft was a VERY bad idea, I got totally flamed. Strange how many hours I'd flown with the horizon covered up - one advantage of working for an airline that was going broke: we had a lot of empty sectors
and in those days the freedom to try things out.
When I tried a blind landing in a DC3, it was a tad harder. I'd read the Lysander guys held it straight with the T&S, so gave it a go. Super young bloke in the right hovering over the controls. When we stopped, I said, Flaps up, Mate. Nothing. Flaps up! Nothing. He was slumped in his seat just managing to say, Blimey . . . several times.
Afer a time in command, I found myself back in the right with a great young skipper - heading to Tenerife. It was a fuel-stretcher at the best of times. Clamped. Diverted. Diversion clamped. That island with a mountain a a runway. Open. ADF appoach. Nothing. I tried to reassure the skipper we'd done everything right. Next shot was to be the last. The Channel Airways Viscount at Palma came to mind. (Okay, but broke a runway light with the nosewheel.) Bloody good effort. Now we were in the same situation having chased good weather in a circle. But my ace card was that I'd been allowed to play with aircraft, and we had a T&S in our lovely little BAC 1-11. Two ace cards.
It was a non event. Disappointing, we could see the sides with ease. I don't know if it's irresponsible, but I never felt alive unless I was being challenged. Now, I'd hate some of the things I've been hearing. One pal gets invited for tea because he was holding the (side) stick back a tad during the deceleration run. The damned aircraft had reported him.
I was on the flightdeck of a 777 in recent years and the young crew were listening to my tales of old. "I think it was better in your days." the toddler in the 3rd seat said. I recalled my fir-lined boots, and pressing the headphones to my head so hard it hurt. Mmmm . . . I have a feeling I'd go for the giant computer game if I was suddenly 40 years younger.
*A proper T&S, not that strange thing they put in American light aircraft.