Dancing across the Sky

The U.S. Navy Blue Angels flight demonstration squadron fly over San Francisco Bay in San Francisco, Calif., October 5, 2017. (Stephen Lam/Reuters)

The art and science of aerobatic flying.

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The art and science of aerobatic flying.

F lipping an airplane upside down might just save your life someday. Or so I learned when I read Mike Goulian and Geza Szurovy’s 1994 book Basic Aerobatics. There’s a chance I’ll be taking an aerobatics lesson in the near future, so to prepare, I’ve been watching videos on basic maneuvers, reading the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration) advisory circular on g-forces, and wondering how much one of those required parachutes weighs. Goulian is a flying legend and can be found racing, teaching, and performing at airshows. His book is, I’m told, required reading for aspiring aerobatic pilots, so to the library I went.

Textbooks, especially ones trying to describe the mechanics of flying maneuvers, can seem daunting to read, but the authors of this particular one were blessed with a ready wit and a fabulous editor. The book thoroughly approaches the topic from the ground up, defining aerobatic flying, covering rules and regulations, detailing maneuvers, and much more. The authors use words, diagrams, and cockpit stills of real airplanes in action  to illustrate each maneuver, walking readers through perfect executions, common errors, and tactics for emergency recoveries in an engaging manner.

So what is aerobatic flying? According to Goulian and Szurovy:

 A wide range of interpretations run from Webster’s rather unhelpful “performance of stunts in an airplane” (whatever stunts are) to the Federation Aeronatique Internationale’s detailed definitions of competition aerobatic maneuvers. . . . Yet the word aerobatics implies a high degree of skill and full control by the pilot in all dimensions. So, perhaps a more useful definition is “an intentional departure from straight and level flight to fly one maneuver or a series of premeditated maneuvers that require extremes of bank, pitch, and acceleration.”

Watch a video of Patty Wagstaff in her Extra 330SC or Bill Stein in his Edge 540, and they seem to be throwing the planes through the air, flipping the controls left and right, and tumbling wildly. In reality, however, every single movement is carefully choreographed and practiced. Aerobatic flying is “precision flying,” and Basic Aerobatics drills down hard on the “precision” part — “ironclad discipline” is the authors’ term of choice.

Without condescending to their reader, they prepare the eager pilot for her first foray into the world of aerobatics by listing regulations and other important beginning information. Flying aerobatics doesn’t require earning an FAA-regulated rating, but before you think you can jump in a plane and do a loop, keep reading. This book is continually stressing safety, safety, safety. To have the freedom to fly in such amazing ways, and to ensure that freedom remains for others to enjoy in the future, you must follow certain FAA rules and regulations. You also can’t learn aerobatic flying on your own, and the authors continually remind readers to find a highly qualified instructor to teach and fly this journey with them.

This is an orderly book, with each chapter building carefully on its predecessors, stepping you clearly through the process. After the necessary sections on health, proper aerobatic training aircraft, energy management, preflighting an aerobatic aircraft, and keeping your pockets empty (loose change spilling from your shorts during an aileron roll would be . . . less than ideal), it’s time for some stalls.

The authors make clear that this book only covers, as the title states, basic aerobatics. There are many advanced maneuvers, some of which can’t even be judged in competition because of their complexity, and while they do briefly discuss some of those near the book’s end, they stick with the foundational moves. These range from stalls (when a plane’s wing is positioned so it can’t generate lift) to Immelmanns (“a pull-up into a half loop, followed by an immediate slow roll upright from the inverted position”) to spins (I’ve done two of these before, on purpose, with a qualified instructor, and they are thrilling).

Goulian and Szurovy aren’t here to entertain you, but they strike a good balance between professionalism and the occasional amusing turn of phrase. Another way they captured my interest was with the historical bits included between chapters. Who completed the first full loop? Is the Immelmann named after a particular pilot? Where did the Cuban Eight come from? These, and many other questions, are answered in the book, and it was here I learned about Neil Williams.

He was the one who turned upside down in an attempt to keep his plane’s left wing from crumpling. Williams was part of the British aerobatic team, and in 1970, he was doing a practice session in his Zlin Akrobat. The aircraft’s left lower wing spar failed when Williams was 1,000 feet above the ground (which, in an aircraft, especially one doing aerobatics, is not high at all), and he saw the wing start to fold. Goulian and Szurovy use this story to exemplify how understanding the forces at work on your plane is crucial. Williams, with incredible presence of mind, knew that because he was flying right-side up, there were positive g-forces at work on the wing. He hoped that by flipping the plane upside down  the negative forces would reverse the wing folding. He was right. “The wing snapped back into position with an almighty bang.” He survived the rest of the flight and the landing without injury, and you can read an onlooker’s account here for the exciting finish.

I am, interestingly enough, probably the most risk-averse person in my immediate family, but Williams’s feat, Jimmy Doolittle’s successful outside loop, and the other fascinating stories and information in this book have fired my imagination and heightened the anticipation for my first aerobatic lesson.

So even if the technical bits aren’t your cup of tea, at least check out the stories — they might be just the thing to spice up your next cocktail party. After that, watch Mike Goulian tumble his way gracefully across the sky and allow yourself to marvel. It is a thing of beauty.

Sarah Schutte is the podcast manager for National Review and an associate editor for National Review magazine. Originally from Dayton, Ohio, she is a children's literature aficionado and Mendelssohn 4 enthusiast.
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