The Perfect Landing

I was updating my logbook a little while ago, and saw that I have totaled over 9,000 landings in my flying career (so far). Why we total this number is beyond me, but it causes me to remember that I LOVE to land flying machines. I?ve had the marvelous opportunity to land an incredible variety ? and all bring a little joy when handled just right. I think that landing might be the ultimate formation flying ? coming into contact softly (and without damage) with your partner, which in this case is the earth. Whatever it is, we are judged (and frequently judge ourselves) by our landings ? ?good? ones being a badge of honor among those who call themselves pilots.

We all know a good landing when we see it, or when we feel it. I am not talking about the method of landing ? that is irrelevant. Tricycle, tail wheel, wheel landing, three point, soft field, short field, spot landing?.they are all techniques ? methods for getting a particular airplane on the ground in a particular situation. I am talking about that magic moment of arrival when the airplane touches down EXACTLY when and where you want it to, perfectly timed so that you are not even sure if the wheels have started turning or not. So soft that you can feel the individual molecules of the wheel bearing grease shearing as the balls and races slowly spin past each other. No bounce or hop, just that perfect arrival and gentle slowing as the weight of the airplane transfers from the wing to the undercarriage.

These moments of perfection come rarely to all, more frequently to those for whom it matters. It is amazing how each landing becomes important when landing at your own airpark, knowing the neighbors are watching from their open hangars and back yards (most of them aviation professionals who know a good one when they se them). True pilots love to try for these perfect touchdowns, journeymen get them accidentally, but know not how, and apprentices are still trying to re-use the airplane after each landing. And some days, the best any of us can do is get the airplane on the ground within the confines of the airport ? gusty, tumbling, turbulent winds and currents conspiring to add our name to the rolls of the NTSB reports (?Witnesses reported that the aircraft departed runway after third touchdown and ended up in ditch??).

I find that the Valkyrie and I have a good rapport when loaded for normal flight, and touch down in a slightly tail-low wheel landing attitude. I can feel that slow spin up, and the compression of the gear legs as we settle, a very slight pressure on the stick keeping us pinned to prevent the skip. I have greater trouble working the kinks out of my relationship with Mikey, the RV-6. But nothing can compare with those occasional ?perfect? moments in a J-3 Cub, the door open, the grass rising to meet you as you see the right main begin to slowly spin, dampness appearing slowly as the whole tire finally becomes involved, the tail wheel doing the same thing out of sight behind. You can actually hear and feel the airplane kissing the earth as you move from one element to the other, one more rare and perfect moment to enter in the log?..

Paul

The perfect approach

Paul,

That is a beautiful description of the relationship between man and machine. I too love the landing process and the rapport between an airplane and its pilot. You have described the moment of a perfect touchdown and its significance very well. I also live at an airpark, so most of my home landings are viewed by my neighbors. I have a special feeling of pride and accomplishment when I make the ?perfect? landing and roll out, knowing that a few of my pilot friends had to have noticed how well it turned out.

After several hundred hours in the same plane, True Pilots reach the point where most landings at familiar fields, in calm conditions, are smooth and satisfying. However, I would like to broaden your discussion a bit by including the "perfect approach" as part of the perfect landing. On a few occasions, mostly on summer evenings when the air is dead calm, I have experienced an almost magical approach and landing at my home field. The approach begins on downwind with a stable altitude, approach speed, and power setting. As power is imperceptibly bled off, and pitch is slowly increased throughout the approach, you make the gentle turns through base to final, never moving the throttle or any of the controls in a perceptible manner. It is as though the airplane is on a perfectly smooth track from initial downwind position to three-point touchdown on the runway. A passenger would never see the controls move and there would be nothing but one long smooth motion of the plane from downwind to roll out. A couple of chirps as the tires spin up are the only indication that you are no longer in the air. I have experienced such an absolutely ?perfect? approach and landing maybe only a dozen times in 4000+ hours of flying in small airplanes, mostly in my Bucker Jungmann and recently in my RV-8. Such an experience always brings a huge smile to my face and gives me an immense feeling of satisfaction and rapport with my airplane. To fly an airplane well, and especially, to land one well consistently are the main reasons that I am so hooked on flying.

Thank you for your beautifully written discussion of the Perfect Landing. You have struck a chord with me.

Cheers,

Dan Miller
RV-8 N3TU 530+ hours
Bucker Jungmann N40DM 1690+ hours
T-Craft N29559 910+ hours

Paul,

Great story.

It reminds me of a landing I did shortly after I finished my phase 1. Nora and I were going to a fly-in / lunch at short grass field (1800') with obstructions at both ends.

The best approach was a curving left-hand approach, similar to what Navy pilots do when landing on a carrier. This allows you to miss the power lines that angle off the end of the runway on the right and the trees on the left.

After slowing the -9 down to follow three J-3 cubs in for a landing, I made the aforementioned curved approach and just as I rolled wings level the wheels touched down in a full stall landing right at the end of the runway.

One of the old timers there commented that my rollout was well short of the J-3's, with a better approach and landing.

That has been the landing that I judge all others (of mine) against.

I am amazed at how rusty I get when I don't fly every week. The WX has been brutal here for GA so I've been grounded "pullin" rivets. Went flying to day and did some patternwork with a 10 knot cross wind. Normally, the -10 handles these just fine. Today, not so much.

I remember the first landing I ever considered perfect--and I didn't make it. I had made some good ones, but never any I thought couldn't be improved upon. I was taking my PPL checkride and had made one landing in a pretty stiff crosswind. It was pretty good. At about 100' on the next final he said, "I've got it." I wondered what I had done wrong. The next thing I knew there were these three distinct tiny squeaks as each wheel kissed the runway as soft as a dove. "That's how it's done. Now go back to the office. You passed." Every time I do one that good in a crosswind, I think of that time over thirty years ago.

Bob Kelly

Neat thread, Iron!

I'm not sure I have the same rapport with my -6 as you have with the Val. With me it's more like, as I turn final, I'm thinking, "Well, I wonder what's gonna happen THIS time."

And I'm reminded of the F-8 driver who gets aboard on a dark and stormy night with a pitching deck. As he taxis out of the wires he says, "Thanks God, I'll take it from here."

Don't stop until you get one

Part of the fun of flying for me is getting that perfect maneuver. Whether it be a landing, a perfect instrument approach or even a perfect taxi out and centerline takeoff.

Some of the landings that have given me the most pleasure are those that I have made in the Diamond DA40 when returning from a long cross country to my home base in Sanford, Maine.

On several occasions I have returned to Sanford just as the sun is setting. The enjoyment starts at 7,500 feet watching the sun get lower in the sky and the colors of the trees, mountains and ocean get their most vivid. Looking down the long tapered wing of the Diamond at the setting sun just feels like what flying is supposed to be (I am going to miss the sight of that long wing). As I descend to pattern altitude I enjoy a few steep banks partly to limber up for landing, and partly because the center stick and the view down the long wing at the ground makes steep banks fun. By the time I make my turn onto the 45 to the downwind it's time to push the prop forward and slow down for landing. On the turn to final I am rewarded with a solid red over white on the VASIs, and from there I feather the throttle to maintain the glideslope, ending in a nose high, centerline landing. I hold the stick back until the speed bleeds off, the tail stops flying and the nosewheel gently touches down.

Thanks for the reminder Paul. These thoughts put a smile on my face.

More Than a Squeeker!!

Great thread Paul.
The last time I checked my logbook, I was just shy of 7000 landings, but there's one I'll never forget.
One year when flying my aerobatic One Design down to Sun n Fun from New England is when it happened.
The One Design was fairly fast especially when I could get it up high to take advantage of the thinner air and the 3 blade MT prop, and overcome some of the drag of it's thick aerobatic wing.
This meant a fair amount of initial clothing to start the trip in a heater-less aircraft. We'd stop about every 1.5 hours for fuel, and peal off some clothing and store it in the over-size baggage pouch I had made behind the seat.
When I prepared for the landing at Valdosta GA which was my last stop before Lakeland, I was down to just one extra sweater under my Nomex flight (racing car) suit. The tower cleared me for a straight in, and as I was easing back on the stick close to the ground, I kept waiting, and waiting for the landing gear to make some contact. Much to my surprise, it seemed I had landed about a 100 yards back, and never knew it until the light bulb went on.
Thinking back, it appears that with the weeks luggage I had packed and the extra clothes I kept putting back there, I was probably flying with the CG all the way aft. Not a good configuration for getting into a spin, but good for making the "Perfect Landing"
Happy New Year all
Jack

The beauty of the circle....

What does it for me these days is having the pattern to myself as I come up initial at 200mph, still punchy from the rolls and loops a few minutes prior, and then combining the break/downwind/base/final maneuver into a single, perfectly-circular groundtrack. If I do it right, and I rarely do, I roll wings level about three seconds before the tires squeak, having not touched the power since reversing course post-break. Let's call it 'simulated engine failure practice 1000' over the numbers'.

The whole smash….from the backfiring engine translating staccato pops up through my feet, to the quick dance of fingers over the flap handle, boost pump switch and lights, to managing the changing stick forces as the speed decays and you focus on pegging the AOA on the donut. When it comes together, and like I said earlier it rarely does, it is special.

It helps if one of your buddies is on the warmup ramp watching also, cuz it's fun messing with those guy's heads. "It happens all the time...what's the big deal?"

perfect landings

I'm with you Scorch! Was thinking these guys didn't learn the Navy way.....not that we have THE best method. Don't have your varied &total experience Paul, but have walked away from several hundred traps on USS BOAT, & I concur there is no better feeling than when you are as one with your flying machine & absoutely NAIL the landing
Jim RV-7A RV-10.

Not a perfect, just a best

We all have one that sticks out above all others. Mine came on a Friday the 13th, the day I took my private pilot's test.

Wind, 21 knots gusting to 29 knots at the airport. Had to go up to 6000 feet (agl) to get enough smooth air to do the stalls, turns, etc... On slow flight, even managed to hover the plane.

It was the emergency landing. Dead stick to a little bitty country airport between the pine trees. Examiner pull the throttle and I had to spiral down. When I had the airport made and was lined up, I asked it it was satisfactory and should I power up and go. Answer...no, land the plane. On the numbers!! When I came to a stop, my palms were wet with sweat.

Not perfect, just a best.

I too like the landing process as much as any other phase of flight. There are some airplanes that I never get tired of landing. When I flew the Pitts I would almost always do at least three landings a flight just because it was so much fun. Like Paul says there's nothing like a J3 and that is another airplane I can spend an hour or two just in the pattern (you ever landed looking backwards or one guy has the stick and the other the throttle and rudder pedals. All great fun in a Cub.) The best is open cockpit in a big slip down final with the wires singing, kick it straight and squeak on a wheel landing on the big long stroke oleos. Thanks for starting this thread Paul it got me looking in the logbooks and remembering some of the great fun I've had. Don

Smoothest is not necessarily "best"

Sometimes perfection is just getting it down. In the mid-seventies I was flying an A-7D ?Corsair II? from the Vought factory in Texas to my home base in Myrtle Beach, SC. The aircraft had just been through an extensive modification and during the first hour of the flight I was busy checking out all of the systems to insure that my night IFR arrival would be uneventful. All was well as cloudless skies gave way to a solid undercast as I passed over the Mississippi River. Soon I was cruising high above the undercast in darkening skies with the setting sun behind me and no sound other than the reassuring hum of the single Allison TF41 turbofan and the occasional chatter from Atlanta Center on the UHF. The inertial navigation system pointed directly to my destination and all was well with the world.

Total electrical failure was the last thing on my mind. Such an occurrence was so unlikely that the aircraft manual did not even provide a checklist for the situation. As the cockpit lights extinguished and the autopilot dropped off the line I was suddenly fully awake and facing the biggest challenge of my flying career. I had returned from a combat tour in Vietnam a few years earlier and foolishly thought that the life threatening challenges were in my past. Fool! I took stock of my situation with the help of my USAF issue flashlight which came equipped with a red lens filter for just such occasions as the white light was so bright that all night vision was severely impaired under it?s glare. Battery power was lost along with the generator and the small emergency generator on the ram air turbine failed to restore any power at all. Engine running fine, although I had no engine monitoring gages operational. As long as the fire was lit I had no reason to believe the engine would be a problem. Fuel? enough to make it to Myrtle Beach with over an hour of reserve but not enough to make it back to VFR conditions west of the Mississippi. Location?. a few miles east of Atlanta. Navigation equipment? a single whiskey compass. Communication equipment? none! I started to review my options. It only took a few fingers to count them.

I had a good estimate of my arrival time over Myrtle Beach Air Force Base and I could just continue on the present heading and let down safely through the undercast over the Atlantic Ocean. But then I would have to reverse course and find the base without any navigation aids. The last weather report indicated 400-foot ceilings along the coast. Finding a landing site before running out of fuel or hitting one of the many towers along the coast could be difficult or impossible. A controlled bailout was becoming an attractive option. I had only used two fingers to count my options and I was about to toss a coin to pick one when I remembered something. I think we covered it one day in basic training ground school. If I flew a triangular pattern it could alert ATC to my situation and perhaps there was another aircraft that could rendezvous with me and lead me to a safe landing. It was a long shot but the two fingers that I still held up in the red glow of my flashlight didn?t look much more attractive. It occurred to me that I really should turn off the flashlight and save it for signaling the aircraft that probably wouldn?t come to rescue me as darkness was falling quickly.

I started a 120-degree turn, held level flight for one minute, another 120-degree turn, another minute of level flight, again and again. Ten minutes passed, twenty? I didn?t see the C-130 at first, just a faint glow of red, green and white lights getting brighter as the big aircraft climbed through the undercast. It was turning in front of me and climbing. Some alert radar operator must have seen my triangles on his scope and sent this big Hercules to my rescue. Or, maybe this was just a coincidental sighting. Whatever, I dove to meet the big bird and latched onto his right wing. He was mine! It was still light enough to see faces in the cockpit window and I hoped they could see my hand signals as I didn?t recall any flashlight signals that would convey my intentions. I held my fist to the top of the canopy and extended two fingers, the HEFOE (hydraulic, electrical, fuel, oxygen, engine) signal for electrical failure. I remember having a moment of doubt. Was electrical failure two fingers or five fingers? There were two ?E?s? in HEFOE and I was never sure which was ?engine? and which was ?electrical?. Stupid! If I had an engine failure I would not be having this conversation! I waved my hand over my mouth and ear to confirm that I could neither talk nor hear over the radio. Probably not necessary since I had already ?told? them that my electronics were out, but I was showing off now. I put my right hand on my left shoulder, indicating that I intended to land on their wing, then held up three fingers, indicating an approach speed of 130 knots. Several ?thumbs up? signals from the C-130 crew told me that they understood my intentions, or they thought I was looking pretty good hanging out there on the wing. At any rate, we started down. At 7000 feet we descended into the undercast and the cockpit of the big C-130 disappeared from view. All I could see was the outboard engine and the big green light on the right wingtip. We descended into total darkness now and the outboard engine began to fade out of sight as well. My world was getting very small, just a green light and a few feet of C-130 wingtip. Vertigo quickly took over. I had no perception of up and down, no idea if we were turning right or left. It was cool in the cockpit and I was sweating from every pore in my body! Time stood still. I was shaken by the sudden realization that I wasn?t ready to land. Would the landing gear extend? I dropped the gear handle and felt a reassuring clunk, but the absence of three green lights brought some doubt. The flaps would not extend without electrical power and I began to wonder if 130 knots was fast enough. I couldn?t refer to the landing charts in my checklist. It took nearly 100 percent of my attention just to keep that green wingtip light in sight.

We were getting low and the control response told me that we were slowing. I wish I had clipped my flashlight to my parachute chest strap. I could have seen the airspeed indicator. Couldn?t do it now, too busy with the green light. Started to see the glow of lights below. That sure helped with the vertigo. Controls really sluggish now. Too slow! I could stay focused on the green light and risk stalling or try a missed approach with no instruments. Just two options and both had probable outcomes that in all likelihood would put me in a pine box! Just as I was struggling with a decision the unmistakable flashing of approach lights began to penetrate the clouds and I inched the throttle forward, leaving the green light behind and strained to pick up the runway lights.

The landing was not my smoothest, I?m sure. Frankly, I have no recollection of the landing. I was on the ground. That was all that mattered. I have made thousands of landings in my 45+ year flying career. I?m sure that one was the best. No contest!

Wow!

ronschreck said:

The landing was not my smoothest, I?m sure. Frankly, I have no recollection of the landing. I was on the ground. That was all that mattered. I have made thousands of landings in my 45+ year flying career. I?m sure that one was the best. No contest!

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Holy Smokes Ron! That was a really good story! You had me puckering the cushions of my chair just reading it! Good show indeed and certainly 'the perfect landing'.

Yikes!

You've got my vote for most impressive landing. It gave me chills to read your description of doing a night, formation approach in actual conditions without any instruments. I can picture the vertigo setting in, especially as the C-130s wing started to disappear. That's real scary stuff.

I would say this would also qualify you for the Titanium Alloy Spheres award.

ronschreck said:

It took nearly 100 percent of my attention just to keep that green wingtip light in sight.

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Wooow!

ronschreck said:

Sometimes perfection is just getting it down. I?m sure that one was the best. No contest!

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Again, great story telling, the vertigo description, I could feel the onset of it.
WOW, and that was no Movie?! Wow is good, but not the word, maybe- supercalafragalsitic landing!

I don't find landing to be all that moving

I always try to not use a lot of unnecessary sky getting to the runway and I try to feel the tires roll onto the runway instead of hearing them bark in complaint but I just feel like it is a part of the flight. To belabor it seems a little like getting sensual about parallel parking a car.

Bob Axsom

Rare landings

Good thread again Paul....I have had a couple of landings in my four that I am very proud off, but the one landing of all of them that sticks out was in a PA11, (J3 with a pressure cowl and wing tank). I had just started flying again after about a 10 year lay off, and was learning to fly taildraggers off a 800 foot, twelve foot wide grass strip. One evening I was practicing landings with the owner and I just hit the perfect combination of airspeed sink, and position. The open bottom of the door started to float up like an original landing aid, just as all three wheels started to roll on the grass....there wasn't a pound of lift left in the wings, and I was stopped in an incredibly short distance. I still get smiles thinking about it....The owner quietly said "you need to stop for the evening right there"....so I did. Still like those old birds and would love to have a J3 or PA11 for warm summer evening low flights.


Joe Hine
RV4 C-FYTQ

Bob Axsom said:

I always try to not use a lot of unnecessary sky getting to the runway and I try to feel the tires roll onto the runway instead of hearing them bark in complaint but I just feel like it is a part of the flight. To belabor it seems a little like getting sensual about parallel parking a car.

Bob Axsom

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Now that you mention it, let me tell you about the time I parallel parked in a crowded, east coast town with a "Name Brand" university whne the guy ahead of me gave up after 3 tries. Or maybe you don't want to hear about it.