As I said, I used to make the trip to the EAA fly-in each year, spending part of every summer away from my home in New Jersey to stay with my grandparents on their farm about 40 miles northwest of Oshkosh in Waupaca, Wisconsin. What I remember most vividly about those boyhood summers—besides the smell of the hay in the dusty barns (and the hay fever), the bike rides that lingered for many hours and miles, and the strange looks I’d get when I asked for a “soda” and not a “pop”—were, of course, the airplanes at Oshkosh. There were more airplanes at Wittman Regional than I’d imagined I’d ever see in one place—P-51 Mustangs, B-17 Bombers, Long EZs, Pitts biplanes, Stearmans, Aeroncas, Stinsons, Harrier jump jets—all of them aligned in orderly rows, some accompanied by tents under the wing, others merely glinting in the Wisconsin sunshine as judges affixed well-deserved awards to a select few.

Oshkosh is where my aviation education really started, and it continued, of course, by reading magazines like Flying, and later when I turned 15 and started taking flying lessons in a Piper Cub at my local airport.

I don’t know when it happened precisely, but at some point in my childhood I’d become irrevocably ensnared by the intoxicating pull of aviation.

Oshkosh did that—just as Paul Poberezny knew it might when he held the first EAA fly-in back in 1953.

By the early 1980s when I started visiting Oshkosh, the event was already the international phenomenon it is today, with hundreds of thousands of aviation enthusiasts congregating near the shores of Lake Winnebago for a week of good fun with good people building lasting memories together.

Like me, many of them were children. Also like me, you can be sure that those among them who are predestined to start their own love affairs with aviation will see their passions sparked at AirVenture next week.

Call it “The Oshkosh Effect.”

I can’t wait to see it happening.

Read more of Stephen’s recent blog posts.

The post The Oshkosh Effect appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Diamond DA40 NG 2.0 seems like a more apt name for this economical four-seater that finally appears ready to be taken seriously in the U.S. market — and might even help resurrect it. Powered by a water-cooled 168 hp Austro four-cylinder turbodiesel, the DA40 NG is a sister product of the gasoline-powered DA40 XLT that has been popular with new airplane buyers for many years — that is, until a production hiatus when the company came under control of new Chinese ownership in 2020 after its sale by the Dries family of Austria. Production of the Diamond aircraft line is being transferred from Europe to North America at Diamond’s factory in London, Ontario. Because there was only so much capacity within the company to handle such a herculean undertaking while simultaneously transitioning airplanes to the new Garmin G1000 NXi avionics system (which requires additional certification work), Diamond’s new owners decided to get the London production lines for the DA40 NG, DA42 and DA62 up and running first before circling back to the gasoline DA40.That’s OK, because the DA40 NG is probably the airplane you’ll want to own if you’re in the market for a single-engine Diamond. Boasting decent performance, exceptional operating economics and mild-mannered handling characteristics, the NG is a perfect first airplane that outclasses many other factory-built piston singles in its price range. It wasn’t always that way. Diamond first brought the DA40 NG to the U.S. market in 2009, but the combination of a low useful load, suspicions of diesel power, poor euro exchange rate and struggling economy conspired to dampen the market for what was a good airplane, but perhaps not a great airplane. So, where did Diamond go right?

The company went back to the drawing board to reimagine the DA40 NG as an airplane that the designers believed could appeal to U.S. buyers, who have yet to embrace diesel power with the same fervor as customers in other parts of the world — and who still remember the mess that was caused in early Diamond diesel DA42s with the insolvency of engine supplier Thielert. A lot of air has passed over the empennages of Diamond airplanes since the Thielert debacle, though, and the result of the push to build new DA40 NGs in Canada is an airplane that now firmly belongs in the “great” category.

Diamond DA40 NG at a Glance

Flight schools in China are lining up to add fuel-efficient DA40 NGs to their burgeoning fleets, but should pilots in the United States consider buying one? The short answer is yes, and the reason is simple: the DA40 NG’s engine is spectacular. Hundreds of DA40 NGs are expected to be delivered to the Chinese flight-training market in the coming years, meaning U.S. buyers can expect to benefit from the efficiencies brought by a steady flow of airplanes rolling along busy factory floors.

The DA40 XLT and DA40 NG are so different that they’re produced under separate type certificates, and there’s much to differentiate the two for discerning potential purchasers. Apart from the engines, the major distinctions between the models are the NG version’s wider landing-gear stance and bigger tires, taller tail, all-new wheel pants, reshaped cowling and the addition of large winglets, which allowed engineers to shorten the NG’s wingspan by a foot, from 39 feet 2 inches to 38 feet 2 inches. If you’re looking to fit your new Diamond in a 40-foot hangar, there’s no question which airplane you’ll want. The DA40 NG fits, and the XLT, well, really doesn’t.

The Diesel Difference

The airplanes fly differently too, as I found out during a demonstration with John Armstrong, a Diamond distributor and the founder of LifeStyle Aviation, a company that offers buyers an attractive pathway to airplane ownership through a program called DiamondShare. For my demo flight, Armstrong and I met up at Plant City Airport in central Florida to spend an afternoon smashing bugs just beyond the eastern edge of Tampa’s Class B airspace. I have a fair amount of time in DA40s, and although the family resemblance is obvious, it’s clear that the NG and XLT are very different machines. Having now flown both, there’s no question in my mind that the NG is the superior airplane.

Obviously, the biggest difference is what’s under the cowling. Austro Engine is a subsidiary of Diamond Aircraft Industries that was sold, lock, stock and barrel, in 2020 to Wanfeng Aviation Industry, one of 60 subsidiaries of the Wanfeng Auto Holding Group, a massive Chinese conglomerate that’s just easing into the general aviation market. (Originally, Wanfeng had purchased a 60 percent interest in Diamond’s Canadian operation in 2016 before buying the entire company.) The four-cylinder Austro AE300 turbo­diesel that powers the DA40 NG is actually a stock Mercedes OM640 diesel engine, of which the German luxury carmaker has produced more than a million units for its small A- and B-class cars. So you know the reliability is at least as good as products from established airplane engine manufacturers, and probably even better, if we’re being totally honest.

The big advantage of the two-liter AE300 over the Lycoming IO-360 is the diesel’s fuel efficiency, and that’s saying something, considering the Lycoming four-cylinder IO-360 gasoline engine is one of the most fuel-efficient engines ever produced for the general aviation market. On our demo flight, max continuous power at 9,500 feet yielded a fuel burn of 8.2 gph and a cruise speed of 150 ktas. Pulling the power lever back to economy cruise setting produced a miserly 5.1 gph fuel burn at 126 ktas. Max endurance of the DA40 NG stretches to more than seven hours, an incredible figure, considering the fuel tanks hold only 41 gallons, 39 of them usable.

What struck me about the AE300 engine is how smooth and quiet it is, both on the ground and in flight. To demonstrate the joys of operating the well-mannered diesel, Armstrong suggested we keep the canopy open during engine start. All that’s required to get the three-blade MT propeller spinning is to set the power to idle, switch the electrical master on, ensure the glow plug light is off and turn the ignition key to start. The engine fires instantly, just like a car engine. The AE300’s computer brains, known as the electronic engine control units, manage fuel flow and in general act just like a fadec on a jet engine. There are two EECUs per engine, each with battery backup. After I twisted the key to start the engine, I was surprised by the agreeable thrum emanating from ahead of the firewall. If you remember diesel car engines from the 1970s that idled like someone under the hood was shaking a coffee can full of marbles, you’ll be stunned by how quiet the Austro engine is, even compared with the Lycoming engine in the DA40 XLT. The AE300 purrs like a friendly kitten.

After performing the run-up, which requires flipping a switch between the A and B channels of the EECU rather than performing a mag check (as the engine’s rpm magically advances and retards without the pilot ever needing to touch the power lever), we prepared to depart straight out from KPCM’s Runway 10. I was struck that the DA40 NG required quite a bit more right rudder on the takeoff roll than the gasoline version and that rotation speed is about 10 knots faster, about 69 kias versus 59. Climb rates certainly weren’t jaw-dropping but we saw 600 to 750 fpm consistently all the way to 9,500 feet. Maneuvering the DA40 NG through a series of aggressive 50-degree steep turns, I noted that the lateral control feel is heavier than in the DA40 XLT, owing to those big winglets.

Otherwise, the DA40 NG flew pretty much like every other Diamond I’ve piloted. The stick between the pilot’s legs feels just right, and the avionics, which were good before, are even better now thanks to the upgrade to Garmin G1000 NXi, featuring faster processors and crisper displays to go along with added capabilities. I was appreciative on this hot spring day for air conditioning in this airplane, an option that really should be one of the first boxes a buyer ticks before they hand over the deposit check. The DA40’s large canopy, with the wing positioned slightly aft of the pilot, provides excellent visibility, but the downside is that the large greenhouse makes for a hot cabin environment on warm days. Electric air conditioning keeps things cool and comfortable for taxi, and lets the pilot select the perfect temperature in cruise.

Flying the DA40 NG

I was surprised that Diamond chose not to bring the XLT’s excellent interior to the NG, but quickly began to warm to the more Spartan interior in the airplane I flew, noting its many creature comforts. Lacking are the XLT’s carbon fiber and burled wood interior accents and supple leather seats with “infrared control technology” to keep them cool even in direct sunlight, but the more basic NG interior is comfortable and even sleekly minimalist. What I loved about the seats was the ability to recline them through infinite adjustments, all the way to nearly flat. In a pinch, the DA40 NG would be a cozy place to spend the night on a ramp waiting out bad weather.

Cruising at 9,500 feet, I slipped my headset off to gauge the ambient sound level in the cockpit and was gratified to find that the diesel in flight is much quieter than the gasoline engine in the XLT — and a mere whisper compared to the big Continental six-cylinders I’ve been flying in Cirrus SR22s. In fact, the cool air whooshing through the four overhead vents in the ceiling seemed to be adding just as much noise in the cabin as the engine.

Did I mention I love the engine? Austro has done a masterful job of taking a stock automobile diesel and adapting it to general aviation use, developing a reduction gear box that decreases prop rpm to 2,400 at max continuous power versus the 4,500 engine rpm that cars are designed to run at. The turbocharger produces full power all the way up to 10,000 feet, and then the power curve drops off quickly at higher altitudes. A downside of diesel engines, of course, is their weight, which is generally more than a comparably sized gasoline engine. Thielert tried to reduce weight by using an aluminum block, but the AE300 has a cast-iron block, which is heavy, yes, but also allows the engine to be overhauled, while the Thielert engines had to be replaced. Current TBO of the AE300 is 1,800 hours, with no need for inspections or maintenance of the reduction gear box as was the case with the Thielert engines, which were of a different design.

Base price for the DA40 NG is around $430,000, versus $390,000 for the DA40 XLT when last Diamond offered it, while the well-equipped airplane I flew was slightly under $500,000. Max takeoff weight of the NG is higher than the XLT, at 2,888 pounds versus 2,646 pounds, for a useful load of a respectable 950 pounds. Takeoff and landing distance are a bit longer than in the gasoline version, though the book says the DA40 NG can get off the ground and climb to 50 feet using 1,936 feet of space, so that won’t be an issue for most buyers.

After playing around for a while in the skies above central Florida, we tried some power-on and -off stalls, which are benign and easily managed in this airplane. Diamond sales­people like to point out that a fully stalled DA40 will crash land under control at a slower vertical rate of descent than a Cirrus going down under its BRS parachute. They never mention the horizontal speed component when making the comparison, but hey, it’s just a joke anyway — I think.

Finally, it was time to head back to the airport, where I executed the RNAV WAAS LPV approach to Runway 10 with the autopilot coupled. Clicking the autopilot off at 500 feet, I hand-flew the rest of the way in a gusty crosswind. The sight picture on final and during the round out to flare is slightly different in the DA40 NG than the XLT, but it will take pilots no time at all to get comfortable landing the diesel Diamond.

DiamondShare

Back on the ground, I asked Armstrong how the market has been doing, not just for the DA40 NG but for the DA42 and DA62 twins as well. He said the phone is starting to ring again after a slow stretch of years, adding that interest in the DiamondShare program is growing as the economy continues to rebound. The DA40 NG, he explained, fits well with what LifeStyle Aviation is trying to accomplish with DiamondShare. The program’s purpose is to help new airplane buyers justify the expense of sole ownership by spreading the costs to other pilots who lease time in the airplane. The idea was to make buying a new airplane an attractive alternative to purchasing a used airplane. Still, Armstrong stressed, DiamondShare isn’t for buyers who can’t afford to own a new airplane, nor is it for members who are looking to save money compared with renting or joining a flying club.

The way the program works is fairly simple. An aircraft buyer purchases a new Diamond DA40 and makes it available to three pilots who lease 100 hours of flight time per year. The monthly membership cost for those pilots is calculated by adding up the cost of financing, hangar and insurance (the “carry costs” of ownership) and dividing that number by three. For the DA40 XLT, the figure works out to $1,000 per month. The slightly more expensive DA40 NG is $1,100 per month. There are also location surcharges tacked on for basing an airplane in a large metro area like New York City. In a metro area, the typical monthly surcharge would be anywhere from $100 to $400, Armstrong said, for a total monthly cost of membership ranging from $1,200 to $1,500. The only additional cost for members is fuel.

The benefit to the owner is that the airplane is essentially free because the three DiamondShare members pay for pretty much everything it costs to own the airplane, without factoring in depreciation and the cost of routine maintenance and repairs. Scheduling is done online, with members agreeing to limit the total number of reservations they make at any one time. Overnight trips and longer-duration travel are allowed. Armstrong said there has never been an issue with aircraft scheduling since the program started. I was a member of DiamondShare in 2012 and 2013 in a new DA40 based at Caldwell Airport in New Jersey and can confirm it was a great experience, blending many of the benefits of owning a new airplane with none of the hassles. My affiliation with DiamondShare ended only when the airplane owner moved away to another state. I would jump at the chance to become a member once again in the future.

I’m hopeful I’ll get my chance. The DiamondShare program appears to be in growth mode after a slow couple of years as the economy languished. With unemployment way down and GDP way up, aircraft-buying activity is increasing. After initially rolling out the DiamondShare program to pilots on the East Coast in 2011, LifeStyle Aviation has expanded the concept nationwide. With the popularity of the DA42 VI and DA62 twins, Armstrong is adding those airplanes to DiamondShare as well. The programs are structured the same, although the monthly membership costs are obviously higher. Armstrong said the cost to be a DiamondShare member in the DA42 is about double the cost of the DA40 program, while a DA62 member pays about three times as much. Armstrong said his goal is to make DiamondShare available in every major metro area across the country.

With such exceptional products as the backbone of his network, I wouldn’t bet against him succeeding in doing just that in relatively short order. The time for diesels to go mainstream in America is long past due. The price premium to purchase a diesel-powered airplane is canceled out by the savings in fuel over the long run. And what an engine the AE300 is. There are plenty of brand-new general aviation airplanes that I wouldn’t consider buying, and the delivery figures reflect the fact that I’m not alone in my thinking. But the DA40 NG isn’t one of them. It’s a thoroughly modern general aviation airplane that is fun and satisfying to fly, goes reasonably fast, sips jet fuel, comes equipped with the very latest technology and looks fabulous from any angle. I’m looking forward to seeing more of them on the ramps of GA airports all across America soon, and maybe even getting the chance to fly one regularly.

The post Diamond’s DA40 NG Just Might Be What the General Aviation Market Is Clamoring For appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

In an effort aimed at turning out better pilots more quickly, Canadian flight training provider CAE has rolled out a data-driven training system called Rise that seeks to objectively assess airline pilot performance using real-time feedback during training sessions.

The Rise acronym stands for “real-time insights and standardized evaluations.” The system, explains CAE, leverages big data analytics to reduce subjectivity in pilot assessment, allowing instructors to focus more closely on teaching rather than evaluating performance during initial and recurrent training.

“It can be difficult for instructors to provide real-time feedback during a training session in the simulator,” explained Terry Constantakis, CAE’s director of civil aviation training systems. “With Rise, the analytics tools can tell a pilot, for example, that his landing was good but he didn’t apply the brakes quickly enough. That’s something an instructor in the sim might not even notice during training.”

Rise monitors everything the flight crew is doing throughout a given training session to objectively assess performance in real time. Rise’s Electronic Training Suite includes lesson plans, instructor grading and records that can be reviewed on an iPad. Lesson plans, says CAE, are created in conjunction with airlines and consist of a series of training tasks to be performed in each training session. “Grading capabilities allow instructors to assess task performance as well as pilot competencies,” CAE says. At the end of each session, instructors and pilots must sign off electronically. Results are securely stored as electronic records.

So far, CAE Rise has been adopted by airlines in Asia, with AirAsia signing a five-year training agreement for its long-haul pilots flying for affiliate airline AirAsia X on the Airbus A330. CAE is providing initial training for the airline’s pilots and will begin recurrent training at its training center in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, starting in July.

The simulator maker is pitching the Rise concept to U.S. airlines and the military as a way to ensure standard operating procedures are always being followed. An SOP Management Tool built into Rise can be configured in collaboration with customers, enabling instructors to more easily identify deviations and reinforce operator SOP specifics.

Utilizing dashboards built into the Rise iPad app, data analytics can be used to summarize performance trends for comparison within an operator’s pilot/instructor pool and across the industry. The dashboards, CAE says, allow potential proficiency gaps to be identified and addressed more rapidly, leading to better training that can progress more quickly.

The post CAE Tackling the Pilot Shortage through Technology appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Like many out-of-the-way places, Maine is a victim of its geography. Tourists will sometimes venture inland for encounters with moose and Français-speaking locals, but most prefer to stick to the glittering coastline and the quaint towns, picturesque inlets and islands up and down bustling U.S. Route 1. But Maine is also home to some 6,000 lakes and ponds across a vast wilderness from its western mountains — still capped with snow when I arrived in mid-May — to the pictorial Kennebec Valley and the Maine Highlands to the north, the site of Baxter State Park, a 200,000-acre protected wilderness area that is home to more moose than people. Farther north still is what residents refer to simply as “The County” — Aroostook County, a huge expanse of isolated bush country along the Canadian border that is larger by total area than the state of Connecticut.

Most visitors to Maine miss it all, preferring the relative tranquility and charm of places like Kennebunkport, Boothbay and Bar Harbor on the coast to the remote wilds of Maine’s North Woods and Western Lakes regions, which are far less accessible by car but no less rewarding in their natural splendor.

This helps explain the popularity of seaplanes in New England’s most inaccessible state. Seaplane operations are permitted on almost all of Maine’s public lakes and rivers. The inland town of Greenville, on the southern shores of Moosehead Lake, is even home to the annual International Seaplane Fly-in, an event that has been attracting like-minded floatplane pilots from across Maine and around the country for more than 40 years.

My goal in coming to Maine was to experience the state by air and in the process learn the art of flying seaplanes, a goal I’ve had for a long time but a skill that’s not of particular use in my home state of New Jersey, which prohibits seaplane operations on every one of its lakes. A secondary goal was to have fun in the process of earning my seaplane rating and hopefully not fall in the water. A good time was had — but I’m embarrassed to admit that, yes, I got wet.

The Art of Seaplane Flying

The day I arrived at Twitchells Seaplane Base in Turner, Maine, it was blowing a gale, with winds out of the north at 35 knots that churned the water into ominous whitecaps. Flying didn’t look promising, but it would be a perfect opportunity to complete the ground school portion of my training and maybe try my hand at taxiing on the water in the strong, gusty winds.

I chose to do my training at Twitchells, located a few miles north of the twin cities of Lewiston and Auburn, on the recommendations of friends who’d been taught there as well as a long-held reputation the school has earned as the place to go to get a seaplane rating in Maine — not to mention one of the few spots in the country where you can rent a seaplane and fly it solo.

Owned and operated by the Twitchell family since 1946, the school has a well-deserved regard for providing its students with a solid base of knowledge to begin a lifetime of floatplane adventures. I was excited to start mine.

Still, I was a little surprised when I was introduced by Dale Twitchell, owner of the school along with his brothers Mike and Chris, to my flight instructor, Nate Theriault, a fresh University of Maine graduate nearly half my age. I guess I just figured I’d be flying with some grizzled bush pilot with thousands of seaplane hours and a million stories. What I got instead was an enthusiastic flying companion who not only knew his stuff but who also had a knack for imparting his knowledge in easily digestible lessons to a floatplane newbie like me.

After a couple of hours of ground instruction during which we discussed everything from the federal aviation regulations to the effects of the wetted area of the float on hydrodynamic drag to proper seaplane operating techniques, as I scribbled copious notes, we jumped in Nate’s truck and headed down to the seaplane base.

Set in a narrow inlet off the Androscoggin River, Maine’s third largest, where I would be doing most of my flight training, the seaplane base was home to about a half-dozen airplanes, with more on the way as summer approached. Tied to one of the docks was the airplane I’d be doing my training in, N734ME, a Cessna 172M on straight floats with a handsome blue and gray paint scheme. It looked a thousand times better than any flight school Skyhawk I’ve ever seen. Somehow I immediately knew I’d get along wonderfully with this airplane. Sitting high on its floats it just looked right.

Fighting the Wind

As the wind buffeted us from seemingly all directions at once, Nate described the preflight “walk-around” procedure, which involved literally walking along a steel wire spanning the floats at the nose to reach the far side of the airplane.

“You’re kidding!” I said with a laugh — and then, realizing Nate was not kidding, I followed him by gingerly planting one foot in front of the other as I negotiated the tight wire, moving past the prop and onto the other float. I got busy removing water from each float’s six compartments using a small hand pump and checking the gas and oil, along with the control surfaces and float attach points. As I worked cautiously, the black water swirling beneath my feet looked cold.

With the preflight completed it was time to launch. Almost. Pushing off the dock in a seaplane can be an exercise fraught with peril, especially in strong winds. The major concern is that, after the lines are untied and the airplane pushed off with a mighty heave, the engine won’t start. In such cases it’s imperative to have a plan B, and even a plan C. Concurring with Nate’s suggestion we agreed that if the engine didn’t start we would use the water rudders to steer us away from nearby rocks and the other floatplanes tied up in the inlet and try again to start the engine. Plan C would be to grab an oar and start paddling.

Thankfully the 160-horsepower Lycoming four-cylinder engine came to life without any difficulty, and we were underway. Keeping the yoke pulled all the way back I taxied out of the inlet, remembering to keep the power under 1,000 rpm to avoid water spray damaging the prop. Maneuvering the airplane at slow speed with the water rudders deployed turned out to be less of a challenge than I’d imagined, though the wind certainly was playing tricks on me. I practiced making turns from a direct tailwind by initially ­turning in the direction opposite the way I wanted to go and gaining momentum by swinging the nose back the other way, while being sure to make the correct aileron inputs for the direction of the wind and while adding a burst of power at just the right moment.

On one of the turns the wind was simply too strong to allow us to make a 180, so I had the chance to try “sailing” in a seaplane. That’s when you shut the engine off and let the wind push you backward, using the water rudders to steer and even opening a door on either side to help with maneuvering like a sail on a boat would. Of course, now I was in a similar predicament as I’d been back at the dock, floating backward and hoping the engine would restart before we ran out of space. Thankfully the engine fired right up and we were moving under our own power again.

Later on, the winds had died down considerably and Nate decided it was time to try step turns, which involve adding full power and letting the nose rise out of the water, and then easing the yoke forward and coming back on the power to 2,000 rpm to put the airplane in a level attitude up on the float step. It’s a similar sensation to being behind the wheel of a powerboat, with the major difference being that you can inadvertently rise off the water and start flying if you aren’t careful. Step-taxiing is a great way to cover a long distance on water quickly, but it’s also one of the more dangerous maneuvers in seaplane flying since things can go wrong in a hurry, especially if a wind gust catches a wing.

Time to Fly

Once we’d run through all the required taxi maneuvers, I figured we’d head back to the dock and call it a day. Nate had other ideas.

“You know, it’s not too bad out here,” he said. “You want to go flying?”

It was still windy but not nearly as bad as it had been earlier in the afternoon, and so I said, sure, let’s go, and off we went. Pointing the nose into the wind for the takeoff run (a luxury seaplane pilots enjoy far more often than land-based pilots) I added full power and waited for the nose to come up once and dip and then come up again more dramatically. This let me know it was time to ease the yoke forward to get us up on step and let the airspeed build toward 55 knots as I held a constant deck angle that would allow us to fly.

Like magic the little Cessna lifted off the water. The acceleration as soon as the floats came out was sudden and dramatic. I leveled us off to let the speed build a little in ground effect and then started a normal climb. Nate had us climb to do some airwork to get a feel for flying an airplane with two draggy appendages hanging below its belly — but apart from some slight additional adverse yaw that made judicious rudder use a must, I found that a seaplane flies pretty much like a regular airplane, only slower.

Nate demonstrated the first landing to give me an idea of the sight picture I should expect on approach. The ­descent was initially steeper than I expected, but the touchdown was at a gentle rate with the nose held slightly high. Next it was my turn. The takeoff was good but I dropped it in on the landing. Instead of a satisfying kiss onto the water it was more of a thump. Nate blamed it on the wind. I tried again. This time the result was better. I kept practicing — and practicing. By the end of the lesson I had logged 18 takeoffs and landings. Seaplane flying, I decided, is a blast.

For me — and I suspect most seaplane student pilots — the landings were by far the most fun. I had an inkling I would love landing a floatplane, and I was absolutely right. Some say there’s nothing better than landing a Stearman on grass, and I would have agreed. Now, though, I knew a secret that many taildragger pilots are oblivious to: The most fun you can have in an airplane is landing on floats on the water.

Mastering Landings

Landing on a glassy smooth lake or pond is the most fun of all. It’s actually one of the more dangerous things a seaplane pilot can attempt too, as I learned on my second day of training in calm winds under a brilliant blue Maine sky. When there are no ripples or waves in the water, you lose depth perception as you descend toward the water, making it impossible to accurately judge your height above the surface. If you try to make a normal landing on a glassy lake, you’re likely to make a hard landing and even risk flipping over or losing control.

The trick with glassy landings is to descend with power close to a shoreline so you can use the trees to judge your height. Once I was about halfway down the trees I would shift my focus to making a shallow descent with power, being mindful that we could land at any time. On several tries this meant flying along at a height of a few feet — or even a few inches — for what seemed like forever before the floats gently touched the smooth water. But I found that glassy water landings are actually one of the easiest maneuvers to demonstrate on the practical test because everything happens so slowly.

In one exercise Nate had me flying along at a height of 2 inches off the water to hone my handling skills in the final moments before touchdown. That was fun. We also performed rough-water landings, a procedure that will vary depending on how rough the water is but which involves carrying some power into the roundout and touching down on the waves in a flatter attitude, holding aft yoke until the airplane nearly comes to a stop and then pushing the yoke forward to let the floats break into the waves.

By far my favorite maneuver during my two days of training was confined space operations — the water version of short-field takeoffs and landings. We used a portion of the river with an island to simulate landing in a confined area. The procedure involved flying at a slower-than-normal approach speed right over the tops of trees, allowing us to touch down as close to the shore as possible. As soon as I touched down I would throttle up to 2,000 rpm to keep us on step, turn the yoke full right and start a step turn to the right all the way around the island. After making a 360 on the water, I’d stop the turn, add full power and lift one float, and we’d leap off the water, simulating a takeoff from an enclosed space.

Nate encouraged me to come in even lower over the trees. “You can actually put your floats down between those two big pine trees,” he counseled. I got the floats down to treetop level but was too chicken to let any part of the airplane go below the trees. I’m sure my insurance carrier would have appreciated my prudence.

The Check Ride

There’s no question that seaplane flying is riskier than operating from dry pavement or grass. Floating debris, such as logs, and boats, personal ­watercraft and buoys all present special hazards for seaplane pilots. When flying amphibious airplanes with retractable wheels, it is imperative that the pilot ensures the wheels are up when landing on water since they will dig into the water suddenly, often resulting in a forward flip at high speed that in many cases proves fatal.

After my second full day of training and 5.5 hours in my logbook, plus a little downtime when we beached on an island and did some exploring, Nate signed me off for my check ride with the designated examiner. Mary Build was new to the school but not to seaplane flying. She’d earned her rating 20 years earlier — at Twitchells.

It’s impossible not to be a little nervous before a check ride, but Mary made the whole process as painless as possible with her friendly banter and willingness to impart a little knowledge of her own about seaplane flying as she evaluated my skills.

After spending about an hour on the oral portion of the practical test, we headed to the airplane and climbed aboard. Nate offered to help me push off the dock, but Mary rebuffed the suggestion. She said she needed to be certain I could handle the floatplane in all phases on my own. After completing the run-up (unusual in a seaplane because you’re moving forward at a decent clip as you perform the mag and carb heat checks) we lifted off the smooth surface of the Androscoggin River and climbed to 2,500 feet. That’s when Mary hit me with my first emergency scenario: smoke in the cockpit requiring an immediate emergency descent and a simultaneous engine failure. It was something I’d enjoyed practicing with Nate. I made sure to make my first landing a good one.

We did several more takeoffs and landings, more simulated emergencies, step-taxiing and sailing with the engine off. Learning to fly a seaplane on a long, wide river is great because you can make several takeoffs and landings in quick succession, working into the wind with each touchdown and takeoff. For my last landing Mary asked me to stay on step and perform a high-speed taxi into the mouth of the inlet, where I’d chop the power and head back to the dock.

I knew if I nailed this last maneuver I was as good as golden. The check ride had gone about as well as I could have hoped. I made a smooth landing, pushed the power up to 2,000 rpm and made a step turn toward the seaplane base. Taxiing in I felt a sense of relief that the check ride was nearly over. All that was left was to pull up to the dock and tie up.

I came in as slowly as possible at a 45-degree angle to the dock, and when I knew we’d be able to coast the rest of the way, I pulled the mixture and cut the engine.

I had my seat belt and headset off and the door open, ready to hop out onto the dock and tie us up. Nate, who was standing on the dock to greet us, helpfully reached out to grab hold of the wing strut.

That’s when things went haywire.

“Don’t depend on him,” Mary warned sternly.

I took this to mean that I wasn’t allowed to let Nate help me with the docking. I had to do it myself. I sprang into action, flung open the door and stepped out of the airplane. In my haste my left foot became stuck between the seat rail and door frame and I basically swan-dived out of the Cessna onto the dock. It was a case of “falling gracefully,” I would say. I landed with my knees on the floats and my hands on the dock. That’s when I felt my left foot sans shoe dip into the freezing water, soaking my sock and lower pant leg.

“Don’t help me,” I said to my startled flight instructor, who dutifully let go of the strut.

We were stopped. Phew. I grabbed the dock line and looked over my shoulder at my startled examiner.

“Are you OK?” she asked. I told her I was fine, except for a wet foot.

“Did my shoe fall in the water?” I asked sheepishly.

“I think so,” Nate said.

“No, wait! There it is!” I said.

The shoe was sitting on the floor of the airplane right where I’d left it. I grabbed it, stepped onto the dock, slipped it on and stood before the examiner with the widest grin on my face. (I had a strong urge to say ­”ta-da!” but held my tongue.)

Mary reached out her hand and said, “Congratulations. You’re a seaplane pilot. That was a very nice check ride.” Then she added quickly, “You’re sure you’re OK?”

I felt my grin widen as I burst into all-out laughter.

“Perfectly fine,” I said. “This will give me something to write about!”

After bidding farewell to Nate, Mary and Dale and driving out of the Twitchells parking lot, I was already starting to think ahead to when I’d be back in Maine to rent N734ME and show my family how much fun floatplane flying can be. It’s something very few people will ever be lucky enough to experience. If you’ve always wanted to learn to fly seaplanes, I highly recommend heading up to Turner, Maine, to Twitchells Seaplane Base and training with the best. Just do me a favor and try not to get wet.

Check out our photo gallery for more seaplane flying in Maine.

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The post Seaplane Flying in Maine appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

They say that when one door closes, another opens. The trick is to stop looking at the closed door long enough to see which door is ajar. For Piper, the closed door was the abortive Altaire single-engine jet, an airplane many likened to a mini DC-10 with its Williams turbofan engine integrated weirdly into the tail. The door that opened, meanwhile, was a new version of the Meridian turboprop, which Piper would end up naming the M600.

Piper M600 at a Glance

In October 2011, with the aviation industry still reeling from the effects of the Great Recession, Piper’s new CEO, Simon Caldecott, announced the “indefinite suspension” of the Altaire jet despite the program essentially being on time and on budget. The market for very light jets appeared less certain than it had in the midst of the real-estate-bubble-fueled frenzy prior to 2008, and so the big question for Piper at the time was: What the heck do we do next?

The answer turned out to be a further evolution of the 
Meridian turboprop single that would make it stand out against a backdrop of pricier turboprops and a new crop of light jets. To pull it off, four big changes were needed. The first, and the most important, entailed designing a new wing. Piper also decided to add the latest Garmin touchscreen avionics, boost the new model’s flat-rated horsepower and improve the interior.

Piper took some of what it learned from the Altaire program and applied it to the design and manufacturing of the M600. This latest iteration of the PA-46 now features a clean-sheet wing, Garmin G3000 avionics, an extra 100 shp compared with the M500, and stylish interior enhancements that elevate the airplane well above the original Malibu Meridian introduced to the market almost 20 years ago. The changes also now put the M600 in rarefied territory within striking distance of some pricier turbine options.

The M600’s new wing isn’t the same as the Altaire’s, but Piper engineers who were involved in the jet program applied their experience with wing design to the latest PA-46 model. Piper started the process in late 2011 by asking dealers and customers what they wanted from the Meridian. The consensus was that it needed to fly farther, carry more and go faster — and really, what else would they say? The hard numbers many asked for included a range boost to at least 1,000 nm, a payload of 800 pounds or better and a 250-knot vmo.

With the M600, Piper not only met those goals, it exceeded the parameters while also making other noteworthy improvements. Boosting the available power of the airplane’s Pratt & Whitney Canada PT6A-42A engine to 600 shp in the M600 helped to increase performance, but engineers knew that a limiting factor in achieving more dramatic improvements in payload and speed was the original PA-46 wing. Not only would a clean-sheet wing designed using new computer load analysis lead to performance improvements, a bigger wing could also hold more fuel — it turns out, the M600’s new wing carries an impressive 90 gallons more jet-A compared with the original.

The extra fuel coupled with the improved wing translates to a welcomed increase in range, from 1,000 nm in the M500 to 1,484 nm in the M600 at its long-range cruise speed of 184 ktas (with a 45-minute reserve). At the M600’s max cruise speed of 274 ktas, range still stretches to more than 1,000 nm. Most impressive to me is the M600’s ability to carry 1,000 pounds worth of people and bags on 800 nm legs. Since there’s no option for an onboard lavatory, that’s about as far as most owners will want to travel before a pit stop, anyway.

Flying the M600

The day of my demonstration flight, I arrived at the Piper factory in Vero Beach, Florida, in pitch darkness for our planned 5:30 a.m. wheels-up time. This ungodly hour was chosen to capture first light for the gorgeous air-to-air photography that accompanies this article. Boy, was it worth it. As the sun gradually began to paint pale hues in the morning stillness, I strolled onto the ramp with Piper chief corporate pilot Bart Jones for my first in-the-flesh look at the M600. Instantly, I could see this was no stock Meridian. The new wing, with its slightly upturned tips and thick chord line, looks right at home on the PA-46 airframe. The M600’s leading-edge cuffs, with integrated deice boots and a new in-wing radar pod that houses Garmin’s GWX 70, finish off the look.

Another reason for the early start was that the FAA was scheduled to fly the M600 later in the day before granting Piper its final production sign-off. The planned handover of the first customer airplane was scheduled for the following day. I was disappointed to learn during our preflight briefing that we would be limited to an altitude of 17,500 feet because the transponder check on the airplane I’d be flying was out of date. That seemed like an odd oversight. My host ensured me, however, that Piper test pilots had really flown all the performance numbers listed in the POH, and if anything the figures err on the conservative side.

Taxiing out behind a Piper Seneca photo ship with its left door removed so that the photographer could capture the M600 in the soft morning light, we applied full power and were rolling on Vero Beach’s Runway 30L as a flight of two. We climbed out in formation as the sun appeared from behind vermillion pillars of cumulus clouds lazing offshore. Beckoning like sirens, the combination of the sea, clouds and early light served as an irresistible backdrop for our photo flight — a Florida postcard, made to order — which lasted about an hour before we thanked the Seneca crew for making us look good and got down to business putting the M600 through its paces.

The first thing I noted was the M600 has a heavier feel than the original Meridian, owing to that beefier wing and the fact that the M600 is, after all, a heavier airplane than its predecessors. I would have preferred a slightly lighter feel, but control harmony was excellent, as was low-speed handling, so I can’t imagine M600 buyers will complain much once they spend a few hours at the controls and become accustomed to the extra heft required to throw the airplane around the sky.

Climbing to 17,500 feet, I left the power up and watched the speed climb to 263 ktas at our midweight with the two of us aboard, plus 200 gallons of fuel and a temperature of ISA+15. Though I wouldn’t get the opportunity to experience it, the POH shows a climb from sea level to FL 280 at that temperature and max gross weight would take 31 minutes. The increase in flat-rated horsepower provides more impressive climb times at lower weights and temperatures, while the new wing enhances performance at altitude. You can expect to see a fuel burn of right around 39 gph at a reduced power setting cruising in the mid-20s, which compares quite favorably with the competition. Daher’s TBM 930, for example, flies 60 knots faster than the M600, but it burns 60 gallons an hour and costs about $1.5 million more to buy.

That’s one reason why I’d have no qualms labeling the M600 the budget-constrained buyer’s TBM. For a base price of $2.853 million, the M600 is a compelling alternative to the pricier and speedier TBM models from Daher. Popular options will put the M600 slightly north of $3 million, but that’s still well below the TBM 930’s $4 million-plus price tag. If you can’t swing the payments on the TBM, the Piper M600 isn’t a bad compromise.

Interior Improvements

Where Piper has upped its game considerably with the M600 is in the cockpit and cabin. Up front, there’s the Garmin G3000 cockpit similar to the TBM 930’s, and in back, the M600’s interior is a welcome improvement over the original Meridian’s. My initial impression as I climbed through the rear clamshell door into the M600’s passenger compartment was “wow, nice.” The first thing I noticed were the USB charging ports positioned within easy reach of all the seats. Next was the overall sleek look of the interior, which features nicely rounded table accents and lower side panels, and as Piper director of marketing Jackie Carlon pointed out to me, cup holders that can actually hold a can of soda, unlike those in earlier PA-46s.

The improvements to the cabin were made in the reverse order that manufacturers typically follow, but the positive results are undeniable. Piper hired an external company to build the M600 cabin mock-up, with considerable input from the internal marketing team. Once they arrived at a design they liked, the mock-up was brought into the interior shop in Vero Beach so that production specialists could figure out how to build each piece and assemble the resulting jigsaw puzzle — and then do it over and over again on the production line. (The M600’s new interior has proven such a hit that it’s being brought to the M500 as well.)

The inclusion of G3000 avionics was an easy choice, and it would have been the standard package in the Altaire jet had that program not been halted. The system includes a comprehensive complement of envelope protection features that are appearing on several other jet and turboprop models (such as the TBM 930, HondaJet, Cessna M2, Embraer Phenom 300, Cirrus Vision Jet and more). They include Garmin’s enhanced stability protection (ESP), which automatically returns the airplane to controlled flight if certain pitch and bank parameters are exceeded; overspeed and underspeed protections (USP), which automatically lower or raise the nose if speed decays dangerously low or climbs above vmo; emergency descent mode; and, of course, synthetic vision and ADS-B capability.

Another notable safety enhancement is the coupled 
go-around feature in the M600, which keeps the autopilot engaged during a missed approach, utilizing USP to prevent a stall if adequate power isn’t added by the pilot. There is also a blue LVL button the pilot can press in case of an upset to return the airplane to controlled flight.

G3000 in the M600 features three main flight displays with split presentations that allow for seemingly endless configurations of information and data. For example, the PFD can be split 60-40 to show the primary view, with speed and altitude tapes next to the digitized Jeppesen approach plate. Below the primary displays are two GTC 580 touchscreens positioned in portrait format. The touch displays themselves are great, but I think I prefer them in landscape layout, since I had a hard time pressing certain areas such as the transponder buttons, which, in my opinion, are a bit too small. The backup flight instrument is the popular Aspen Avionics Evolution PFD.

Design Goals

After spending some time getting a feel for the M600 over Lake Okeechobee, which included a series of steep turns and power-on and -off stalls with the envelope protection systems turned off, we headed back to Vero Beach for takeoffs and landings. My first arrival was the RNAV LPV approach to Runway 12R, which I hand-flew using the flight director. At slower speeds, the M600 really is a joy to fly. I made a smooth landing at the conclusion of the approach, followed by an immediate application of power for a few circuits in the pattern. The extra 100 horses in the M600 are noticeable on takeoff, with full power calling for a max torque of 1,575 pounds versus 1,310 pounds in the M500.

At reduced-power settings, I found it somewhat difficult to fine-tune the setting I wanted to nail without a certain amount of finesse with the throttle. The trick that worked for me was to make small power adjustments by grasping the throttle very low on the handle with just my forefinger and thumb. At pattern altitude, I pulled the power back to 550 pounds of torque, dropped the gear, added the first notch of flaps, and then reduced power on final and added landing flaps (as is the trend in many airplanes today, the M600 has only three flap settings: up, approach and landing). Slowing to 80 to 85 knots on short final felt just right, and all my landings were smooth. The M600’s brakes are big and beefy, though beta thrust is somewhat lackluster.

The PA-46-600TP earned its type certification earlier this year, and a handful are now flying with customers. Piper has selected Legacy Flight Training in Vero Beach for M600 initial training. A five-day course is included in the airplane’s purchase price. Warranties on the airframe, avionics and propeller are five years, while the engine has a seven-year warranty from Pratt & Whitney. Despite the increase in power, engine TBO remains 3,600 hours.

Options available on the 2016 M600 include Garmin’s Surface Watch taxi safety system, an Iridium voice and data transceiver for worldwide calling and text, TCAS I traffic collision avoidance system, and a variety of bundled option packages. The GWX 70 weather radar, deice boots, USB charging ports, Aspen standby instrument, and envelope-protection safety features all come standard.

With the M600, Piper has met its design goals and then some. It delivers what the market asked for, which was a 
much-improved PA-46. With operating economics that are the envy of many other turboprop owners, and a cockpit and cabin finally on par with the top-tier competition, it’s not a stretch to say that certain buyers who are considering a TBM will also take a close look at the M600 and ask if the performance trade-offs are worth the savings. For some, the answer will undoubtedly be yes.

2016 Piper M600

The post We Fly: Piper M600 appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

You know you’ve touched down someplace worth visiting when the tropical breezes moving through the palm trees instantly make you forget all about the ice and snow back home, the emerald-green waters are dotted with sailboats headed for their next island anchorage, and the refrigerator in the pilot supply shop is stacked high with silken Key lime pies for sale. My kind of place.

I began unloading gear from the baggage compartment of N833JR as the friendly customer service representative who greeted us with a golf cart on the ramp at Florida Keys Marathon Airport remarked that ours was the nicest Cirrus SR22 she’d ever seen. As I swung my bags onto the golf cart’s back seat and hopped aboard, I couldn’t help but think how right she was. This particular SR22T GTS, a 2017 Generation 6 model, was, in truth, the nicest on the planet by virtue of the fact that it was the only G6 yet in existence.

Cirrus SR22 G6 at a Glance

Painted in an attractive Athens blue and sterling gray paint scheme, it was different enough from a G5 SR22 that my traveling companion, Cirrus SR product-line manager Ivy McIver, went to great lengths to ensure no snooping eyes on the ramp could deduce that this was the new generation. She set to work fitting wingtip covers over the telltale Whelen Engineering-designed LED light strips and strategically placing sun shades in the windscreen and side windows so that no one could peer inside and see the new Perspective+ avionics system with its qwerty-style keyboard and subtly altered buttonology.

My introduction to the G6 SR22 included a half-dozen flights over the span of three days in mid-December. By now the secret is out and the G6 is the talk of the Cirrus-owner community — but at that time flying the new model required stealth since it was among the most closely guarded secrets in all of general aviation.

As we rode in the golf cart to retrieve our rental car from the sleepy airline terminal next door to the Marathon General Aviation FBO, I thought back to the journey that had brought us here. The adventure started the morning before in the cold at my home field, Morristown Municipal Airport (KMMU) in New Jersey. ATC assigned us the Morristown Six Departure to join up with V1, the airbound equivalent of the East Coast’s Route 1, and follow it for roughly the next 600 nautical miles to Charleston Executive Airport (KJZI), where we’d refuel and grab lunch.

The skies were clear until we reached Charleston, where a wide band of heavy rain slid across Georgia and South Carolina. The conditions were predicted to remain crummy into the afternoon. To that point, I’d been enjoying exploring the new features of the Perspective+ avionics system, which is based on Garmin’s new G1000 NXi platform, but now I was about to gain my first inkling that the added technological capabilities really do warrant referring to this SR22 as a whole new generation.

Because of its greatly increased computing horsepower, Perspective+ is 10 times faster than the previous Perspective avionics in the G5 Cirrus, making enhanced capabilities possible. What stood out to me was the animated Nexrad radar images on the SiriusXM weather depiction that showed the movement of the storm cells and convinced me that landing to the east on Runway 9 was the prudent course of action despite the wind very slightly favoring an arrival from the opposite direction.

Into the Muck

Entering waypoints and approaches using the qwerty keyboard is so much easier than the alphanumeric keypad in my airplane that I’ve decided there’s really no point debating which is better. With the approach activated, we slid down the ILS and broke out at 700 feet to land on the rain-soaked runway. Ivy covered the wingtips and interior and ordered a fuel top-off before we headed into Atlantic Aviation and procured a crew car to take us for lunch at a seafood joint called Lokal Seabar on nearby Johns Island.

Our next leg after lunch would take us through the worst of the rain into Florida. Here again, the animated Nexrad imagery available in Perspective+ came in handy as we flew through green areas of precipitation on the map into yellow with heavier rain and turbulence. We could see that our course would take us quickly through the weather and rode out the bumps secure in the knowledge that the conditions the rest of the way to Miami would be much improved.

Our reward for cinching down our seat belts over South Carolina and parts of Georgia was the opportunity to break out into glorious skies for some cloud surfing as we skipped in and out of the tops of wispy vapor against a sky ablaze in the Day-Glo kaleidoscope of the late-afternoon sun.

“It’s time for some tunes, don’t you think?” Ivy suddenly suggested. I concurred and she called up SiriusXM’s Pop2K channel. Our headsets filled with dance-rock anthems that served as an energizing complement to the dazzling cumuliform vistas unfolding before us.

One of the songs that came on was Good Charlotte’s “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,” a single infused with punk-pop tempos and heavily steeped in class envy (the song’s lyrics advocate robbing the mansions of the wealthy). Ironically, Good Charlotte’s members today are grown men with families who admit to using aviation to its full advantage to see their kids more often while on tour. They just so happen to be rich and famous themselves now too, thanks to a string of hit songs, and are no longer trying to stick it to the man.

As I sat in the left seat listening to the song, it got me thinking. More people with the means to fly themselves in an airplane like this one really should. The SR22 is fast, safe, comfortable and a blast to fly. If only more people who could afford one understood what a personal time machine it really is. Of course, the SR22 is already the best-selling general aviation airplane in the world, with an annual production rate of around 300 SR models a year at the factory in Duluth, Minnesota. Still, I couldn’t help but think the number should be a lot higher.

Passing Florida’s Space Coast, the sun at last bid us a final farewell. By the time we switched over to Miami Center, blackest night had fallen. The plan was to stop in Miami and continue on to Marathon Key early the next morning. As Miami Executive Airport (KTMB) drew closer, the skies over South Florida became a hive of activity. We kept a watchful eye outside the cockpit and on the traffic display as ATC vectored us for landing on KTMB’s Runway 27R. The approach controller asked if I’d prefer the RNAV or a visual approach. I opted for the latter to give me the chance to try out another new feature in Perspective+, the ability to select a visual approach to any runway from the procedures menu. A few button presses later and I was receiving ILS-like guidance cues that took us all the way to the runway threshold.

We grabbed an Uber from the airport, checked into our hotel and then headed back out for dinner. After first confirming I was cool with raw fish, Ivy suggested Pisco y Nazca, a nearby Peruvian ceviche gastrobar. The ceviche was the best I’ve had, but the revelation for me was the crunchy corn kernels bathed in a light sauce, a perfect compromise between popcorn and nuts. I could have kept munching on them all evening.

We met up at breakfast the next morning to discover a 400-foot overcast layer that I confidently predicted would burn off by the time we got to the airplane. Of course, I was wrong. All set to depart but without a flight plan in the system, we tried our luck by asking clearance delivery for an IFR routing through the Miami Class B to Marathon. No dice. We’d have to file a flight plan. Not a problem, Ivy said. With a few taps on her iPhone, she created the flight plan in the Garmin Pilot app, filed it, and then used the wireless connectivity built into Perspective+ to beam the route into the flight deck.

I sat dumbfounded as Ivy keyed the mic no more than a minute after her previous radio call and asked for our IFR routing. Within moments the controller came back with the magic words: “Cirrus 833JR, cleared as filed.” Ivy and I grinned like we’d just robbed a bank.

Minutes later, I was rotating off Runway 9R and climbing through the thin cloud layer into the brilliant morning sunshine toward the coral cay chain of islands that stretch 113 miles to Key West and the uninhabited Dry Tortugas beyond. We sounded like the tourists from the north that we were when we asked for a direct routing to a fix called MNATE at the top of the Keys. We both got a chuckle that we botched the name so badly after the controller responded, “833JR, cleared direct Manatee.” Of course.

Island Time

Dropping down low as the cloud layer broke up nearer the middle Keys, we got our first glimpses of what would be the stunning backdrop for two air-to-air photo missions, one scheduled for that afternoon and the other for the following morning. Since we had some time to kill before the first photo flight, Ivy suggested we check out one of island’s main tourist attractions, the Marathon Turtle Hospital. Founded in the mid-1980s in a converted seaside motel, the hospital has helped rescue and rehabilitate more than 1,000 sea turtles that are brought in from all across the Florida Keys. The Turtle Hospital has operating rooms, X-ray machines, and a seawater swimming pool where the turtles can contentedly frolic. More than 40,000 people visit the hospital each year, making it one of the premier attractions in the Florida Keys.

That afternoon, we met up with photographer Jim Koepnick and photoship pilot Bruce Moore to brief the flight and head out in formation over the Seven Mile Bridge, Boot Key Harbor and Marathon Lighthouse in the softening afternoon light in search of postcard-perfect vistas.

After sunset, we made a couple of low passes down the runway so that we could capture another of the unique features of the G6 SR22, the ethereal Spectra LED wingtip and downwash lights. I found it interesting to learn that the lights come on automatically when you press the key fob to unlock the doors and stay on until after takeoff passing through 200 feet agl. The lights then turn on automatically on descent for landing at 200 feet. Also included with the lighting package are courtesy lights in the baggage compartment and a downwash light on each step behind the wing.

The same is true for the yaw damper, which automatically comes on and off at 200 feet agl on departure and arrival, obviating the need for a yaw damper button on the Garmin GFC 700 autopilot control panel. Other nice features of Perspective+ include an improved vertical flight display; the ability to call up digitized VFR sectional charts and IFR low en-route charts on the flight displays; decoded ATC frequencies that tell you at a glance who it is you’re talking to; and a moving map overlay on the primary flight display’s HSI that I came to like a lot after first wondering if I’d even want to turn it on. Thanks to the improved processors and extra computer memory, Perspective+ also boots up much faster, panning and zooming is effortless, and the displays are crisper and more vibrant.

That evening, the four of us had dinner at the Lighthouse Grill next to our hotel. Jim brought his laptop loaded with hundreds of photos from the shoot. Even though there was more than enough spectacular photography for the article, we were eager to head out for another photo flight the next day, this time departing from Marathon Key and traversing northeast up the island chain. In the morning, we loaded the obligatory Key lime pies into the Cirrus and Bruce’s Cessna 210 and blasted off for another enjoyable and satisfying flight over the lucid watercolor panoramas below.

An hour or so later, we bid Bruce and Jim farewell and selected a course northward. The original plan had been to fly back to New Jersey, but the Cirrus was needed in Knoxville, Tennessee, the home of the newly christened Cirrus customer delivery center, for an oil change and more demo flights. We decided I’d airline it home and chose Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport (KATL) as our destination. Besides offering convenient nonstop airline service, I was stoked to get the chance to add to my logbook a landing at the busiest airport in the country.

As we neared KATL, Atlanta Approach told me to expect the visual to Runway 8L and issued vectors at 5,000 feet for what essentially turned out to be a very wide left-hand traffic pattern. At one point, the controller asked what my speed was. I looked down to see 170 knots indicated. “Cleared for the visual Runway 8L, follow the MD-90, caution wake turbulence,” he shot back, apparently satisfied that we weren’t going to gum up the works.

In the groove and sandwiched between two jets, I maintained a speed above 150 knots all the way down the bumpy approach. A virtue of the Cirrus is that it slows in a hurry, and I had no trouble pulling the power back as I got closer to the runway, adding flaps and making a normal touchdown, albeit farther down the runway than the MD-90 ahead of us to avoid his wake. It was a quick and easy taxi onto the GA ramp, and before I knew it I was stepping out into the too-cold sunshine and thanking Ivy for the incredible experience.

And really, that’s what an airplane like the SR22 does best — offers up amazing experiences that enrich its owners’ lives while enabling them to accomplish more with their limited time. The G6 is the finest Cirrus piston airplane yet, and my guess is demand will remain strong for the new model even with the SF50 Vision Jet now certified. After all, the SR22 is an ideal airplane for a great many missions, not to mention a perfect step-up airplane to the Vision Jet.

2017 Generation 6 Cirrus SR22T GTS

The post We Fly: Cirrus SR22 G6 appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Only rarely does a benchmark airplane come along that demands the creation of an entirely new category in which to place it, one that shatters conventional thinking with radical leaps in design and operating efficiency. The SF50 Vision Jet from Cirrus Aircraft is one of these uncommon airplanes. As such, the typical spin around the patch — a few steep turns, maybe, followed by three takeoffs and landings — wouldn’t suffice for our flight report in an airplane as important as this. Clearly, flying the Vision Jet called for an experience befitting the occasion. There’s a great scene in the classic John Hughes film Ferris Bueller’s Day Off in which Ferris (Matthew Broderick), having “borrowed” his friend Cameron’s father’s 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California for a day of top-down reverie in and around Chicago, turns to the camera and asks, “If you had access to a car like this, would you take it back right away?” After a beat: “Neither would I.” My time in the Vision Jet was kind of like that. You see, several months ago the marketing folks at Cirrus suggested I appraise the airplane in a way I might if I actually owned it. Take it on a trip, they suggested. Keep it for a couple of days, they said. Bring the wife along.

Really? I’ve flown some unique airplanes to interesting locales, but I can’t recall anyone ever tossing me the keys to a newly certified jet and saying, “Have fun.” But if they were game, that’s exactly what I planned to do.

Cirrus SF50 Vision Jet at a Glance

I piqued my wife Kate’s interest in the possibilities that awaited us with the inducement of a trip aboard a “private jet.” People in the aviation industry avoid that term, but I don’t see why. Customers love their private jets, and they’re the ones writing the checks, after all. Rarely does anyone outside of aviation use the more staid term “business jet.” And anyway, the Vision is no garden-variety bizjet. Cirrus calls it the world’s first single-engine “personal jet.” After flying the SF50 for two blissful days in early May, I agree wholeheartedly — personal is the perfect description for this category-busting little jet.

I suggested to Kate that we head south to warmer latitudes, and we quickly settled on Kiawah Island, South Carolina, a place neither of us had visited. Charleston Executive Airport (KJZI), an uncontrolled field on Johns Island between Kiawah and the city of Charleston, has sufficiently long runways and a great little FBO with rental cars. It would be an easy two-hour flight from our home field of Morristown Municipal Airport (KMMU) in New Jersey down the East Coast to South Carolina for what I promised her would be the most epic “date night” we’d probably ever experience.

Kate has flown many times in light general aviation airplanes, but never in anything with an airstair door. When I showed her a photo of what she’d be whisked away in, hoping to fan the flames of anticipation, she furrowed her eyebrows.

“That puny thing?” she said. “Yikes.”

Yes, the Vision is an unusual-looking airplane, and as far as jets go it’s, shall we say, diminutive. In fact, the first time I saw an artist’s rendering of one several years ago I thought it was ugly. The V tail with the turbofan engine sitting atop the fuselage was just so weird. But slowly my attitude softened. By the time I had the chance to see a Vision Jet up close, I marveled at the smart use of the interior space and the gorgeous Perspective Touch flight deck up front. If we’re being honest, there’s really only one way to describe the Vision Jet: It’s just so undeniably cool.

Kate and I met up with Matt Bergwall, Cirrus Vision program manager, at KMMU for our introduction to the airplane that would be taking us to the land of championship golf courses, tidal creeks and pluff mud — the slippery, shiny brown-gray sucky sludge on the banks of the Lowcountry salt marshes that smells horrid but is supposedly good for your skin. Matt would fly in the right seat and serve as my guide to the Vision’s many capabilities.

After a walk-around, we loaded our bags into the unpressurized aft cargo hold and climbed aboard. A personal jet doesn’t need to be big, but the Vision is surprisingly spacious where it counts — on the inside, with huge cabin windows that let in lots of natural light and give it the feeling of a much larger airplane. Kate settled into the comfortable-looking leather seat that beckoned to her from the entryway, stretched out her legs and said, “Wow, this is nice. Plenty of room back here.”

A neat trick in the Vision cabin is the ability to slide the pilot’s seat far aft, allowing for direct entry to the cockpit through the cabin door. When I got comfortable up front, I noted that the space felt very familiar. The switches for turning on the batteries, generators, lights, anti-ice equipment and so on, for example, are all grouped in the same spot as the Cirrus SR22 I fly. The flap switch is in the same place too, a nice touch that demonstrates the thinking that went into the design to make for a smooth transition for piston Cirrus owners. The Perspective Touch avionics system, based on Garmin’s G3000 avionics suite, is reminiscent of the cockpit in my airplane as well, with a major exception being the three touch-screen controllers arrayed before the pilot that are used for interacting with the system.

The engine start procedure of the Vision’s single, fadec-controlled Williams FJ33-5A turbofan is ridiculously simple. You merely turn a dial on the left side of the instrument panel to “Run” and hit the “Start” button. Everything from that point on is fully automated, with the computer brains running through the necessary start procedures and automatically initiating a shutdown if any problems are detected along the way.

Coaxing the Vision forward from a standstill requires advancing the thrust lever to about 20 percent power to get the wheels moving and then reducing thrust to maintain taxi speed as needed. Because the Williams engine is controlled by computer, the pilot can throw the thrust lever around with abandon. When stopped, you simply pull the thrust lever fully back and the engine maintains idle thrust, even automatically taking into account optimum operating temperatures.

Flying the Vision

I was curious to know what the sensation would feel like when I advanced the Vision Jet’s single thrust lever to the stops to unleash the jet engine’s roughly 1,800 pounds of thrust. Perhaps not surprisingly since there’s only one engine doing the thrusting, the acceleration felt only slightly more brisk than in my SR22. I wasn’t sucked back into the seat, but it certainly was adequate — and of course the jet noise was deliriously intoxicating. Because the Vision’s rotation speed at our weight was about 90 knots, it took longer to reach flying speed, both in time and runway used. Once we did, I pulled the stick gently aft and the Vision leaped into the air. Retracting the gear and flaps, I started the turnout to follow the Morristown Six instrument departure procedure as Matt called New York Departure.

Hand-flying the Vision on the climb-out, I noted it handled like many of the single-engine turboprops I’ve experienced. The sidestick felt comfortable in my hand as I pitched for the best rate of climb airspeed of 160 knots. The vertical speed indicator showed a climb of 1,250 feet per minute, not eye-popping performance but not bad for a single-engine airplane loaded with three adults, baggage and 230 gallons of fuel on a relatively warm day. The view of the New York City skyline out the Vision’s enormous wraparound windscreen was spectacular.

I thought we were climbing quite nicely, but it didn’t take long before New York Departure lost patience with our progress. It was bad enough that the controller had to ask what a Cirrus Vision was; once Matt explained that we couldn’t climb at a faster airspeed we were instructed to level at 6,000 feet and stay there to accommodate crossing arrivals into Newark Airport. Jets aren’t intended to fly low for extended periods of time due to the higher fuel burn; on a number of occasions during our trip, ATC didn’t quite seem to know what to make of a turbojet airplane with performance closer to that of a turboprop. With time they’ll figure it out, but carrying a little extra fuel for low-altitude excursions is probably a good idea.

Once we reached our cruising altitude at FL 280, the Vision’s advantages began to shine through. With the power set to the detent for max continuous thrust, we showed a cruise speed of 300 ktas burning 65 gallons an hour, both respectable figures to be sure. Priced at around $2 million, the Vision really has no direct competitor in the general aviation market. It slots in above high-performance piston airplanes but well below the price of single-engine turboprops and other very light jets. And of course, there’s the whole ownership experience — flying a jet that is incredibly easy for a single pilot to feel comfortable in, and being able to bring along the entire family while easing the spouse’s worries by reminding that the Vision is the only jet in the world with a full-airframe parachute. Taken as a whole, it makes for a compelling — even life-changing — product, particularly for buyers stepping up from an SR22.

When I checked in on Kate in the back, she was lounging in her seat, listening to Jimmy Buffett courtesy of the SiriusXM audio and a borrowed Bose A20 headset. I asked how she was doing, and she said great. She remarked about the incredible view through the big cabin windows and her comfy accommodations.

“It’s like riding in a party bus,” she said.

It was better than that, I suggested. “This is your personal time machine and magic carpet ride rolled into one.”

“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “Does that make you Aladdin?”

At one point I took off my headset to gauge the ambient sound level in the cabin. It was certainly louder than the passenger compartments of larger and pricier jets I’ve flown — as you’d expect with the engine attached to the roof. It was also a bit louder than the typical airliner cabin, though comfortable enough with a pressurized cabin altitude of 8,000 feet at FL 280, the Vision’s max altitude. But I’d keep the ANR headset on at all times in this airplane.

As the 600-plus miles to South Carolina ticked down on the Garmin multifunction display, Matt explained that each of the touchscreens below had a different purpose. The one on the left essentially replaces all the soft keys in the Perspective cockpit, the middle screen is the dedicated keyboard and the right screen is reserved for the comm radios.

As I played around with the system’s features, we noted something curious about our destination. Despite a forecast that called for good VFR conditions, the SiriusXM weather page reported a 100-foot overcast ceiling. A marine layer, possibly? Since all the other stations around KJZI were reporting VFR conditions, a problem with the ASOS seemed more likely. Matt had mentioned the Vision had an onboard Iridium satcom system, and I suddenly had an idea. I suggested we call the FBO and ask what the weather was doing. A few button presses later and the phone was ringing. The customer service rep at Atlantic Aviation told us it was indeed a bright and sunny day on Kiawah Island. We told her we’d see her soon.

It was also windy. The Vision’s max demonstrated crosswind component with full flaps is 16 knots. We would be right at the edge of that. Executing the bumpy RNAV approach to Runway 9, I managed to make a smooth touchdown with the direct crosswind thanks in no small measure, I’m sure, to the Vision’s trailing link landing gear.

When we taxied to the ramp and parked out in front of the FBO, all heads turned to watch. Since this was only the third Vision Jet to roll off the production line in Duluth, Minnesota, the airplane is still very much a novelty.

We spent the afternoon strolling the grounds of our magnificent beachside hotel, the Sanctuary at Kiawah Island Golf Resort, before heading out to dinner at a great nearby French restaurant called Hege’s. The next morning, Kate and I rented bikes and rode a couple of miles up the beach for breakfast and then pedaled on to the salt marshes to see what birds we could spot. We skipped the pluff mud experience, instead spending the rest of the day by the pool. Before we knew it, our brief vacation was coming to a close. Well, nearly so. We still had the flight home to enjoy.

Homeward Bound

That afternoon had turned really breezy, with sustained winds out of the south of 20 knots gusting to well over 30. We’d depart from KJZI’s shorter Runway 22, which, at 4,313 feet long, still offered plenty of concrete for the Vision. The weather in New York was gray and rainy with low IFR ceilings, but the forecast called for improving conditions by our planned arrival time. The bad weather up north was wreaking havoc on air traffic, however, and when we called clearance delivery the controller informed us we’d have to hold on the ground for an hour and a half. Ugh. That was obviously no good. What would Ferris do? I wondered. Heck, I would have been happy to get in the air and continue flying south — but we had another trick up our sleeve, I knew.

We told clearance delivery we’d depart VFR. Once in the air, if ATC was really serious about the delay we could always go to another airport and take a taxi home. Lo and behold, when we called to pick up our IFR routing in the air we were cleared to KMMU without delay. The only hiccup was that as we flew north over the Chesapeake Bay and crossed into New Jersey, New York Approach wouldn’t allow us to fly the jet arrival. Instead they put us on the “turboprop only” arrival, which — you guessed it — put us at a lower altitude.

At one point when we checked in with a New York controller as “Vision Jet 730FA,” he asked, “Did you say Learjet?” “No,” Matt corrected him, “Vision Jet. It’s a new personal jet from Cirrus Aircraft.”

“Never heard of it,” the controller said.

Oh, don’t fret, I thought. Cirrus plans to build a few dozen through the rest of the year as it ramps up to a production rate of 125 aircraft a year while it works through an order backlog of some 600 airplanes. Controllers will be hearing plenty from Vision Jet pilots soon enough.

The post We Fly: Cirrus SF50 Vision Jet appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Settled into the left seat at our final cruise altitude of 26,000 feet, we were showing a true airspeed of 304 knots and burning about 700 pounds of jet-A per hour. As the lush rolling landscape of central Pennsylvania slid by far below, a nagging question had entered my mind. What is it about the Beechcraft King Air family of twin turboprops, I asked myself, that keeps these airplanes rolling out of the factory in Wichita, Kansas, more than 53 years after the first one emerged? I always thought I knew the answer to that question, but there in the confines of the King Air 250’s cockpit a quiet crisis of confidence was beginning to bubble up in my mind. Who, precisely, should be buying this airplane anyway? I wondered. Beech conceived of the original King Air 90 in the turbulent period in history that coincided with the JFK assassination, Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech and the dawn of Beatlemania. The models that followed in the ensuing years — the King Air 100, 200 and 300 series — constitute the best-selling business-aircraft family in aviation history, with well over 7,000 produced and delivered. Still, I asked, how can a decades-old design like the King Air possibly continue to keep pace with the latest business aircraft making their debuts in the era of Uber and Usher? The T-tail Super King Air 200, introduced in 1973 and superseded by the upgraded versions that followed, including the King Air 250 that emerged in 2010, holds its own special place of distinction as the most successful business-airplane model bar none, with more than 2,400 in service across the globe. Clearly, people have always had their reasons for buying this airplane. Still, I couldn’t quite get over the sticker price. At $6 million, a new King Air 250 sells for a million dollars more than a HondaJet, 2 million more than a TBM 910 and 4 million more than a Cirrus Vision Jet.

Beechcraft King Air 250 at a Glance

Perhaps these comparisons are unfair, I admitted, because none of these competing airplanes can do everything a King Air 250 can. Undeniably, however, the truest rival of a new King Air 250 is a used King Air 200, which you can find on the open market for under a million dollars, upgrade to your heart’s content and still end up nowhere near the price of a new King Air 250.

It took me a while to have an epiphany about why the King Air 250 remains relevant, but I finally did. A new King Air 250, I decided, can indeed offer clear advantages over a used King Air. Come along on a tour of the latest iteration of this timeless airplane and see if you don’t agree.

Why the King Air Still Matters

Over the years, Beechcraft (now part of Textron Aviation) has made more than 2,000 improvements to the original King Air 200, some major, others minor. One of the most important refinements is an engine swap that gives the King Air 250 more speed and better climb rates. The latest Pratt & Whitney PT6A-52 engines in the King Air 250 (first introduced to the King Air 200GT) deliver the same flat-rated shaft horsepower as the PT6A-42 in the previous Model 200, but the newer engine can produce maximum power all the way up into the high 20s, where cruise speed can be 30 knots or more faster, and climb rates several hundreds of feet higher.

To achieve this improvement at high altitude, Pratt & Whitney took the gas generator section of the PT6A-60A that powers the bigger King Air 350 with a 1,050 shp rating and mated it to the gear-box section of the -42 engine. The resulting PT6A-52 engine is still limited — or flat rated — to 850 shp at the propeller, but the engine has the thermodynamic ability to produce well over 1,000 shp.

Speaking of the propellers, another key improvement in the King Air 250 is the incorporation of a pair of Hartzell 93-inch nickel-steel-tipped composite props, which weigh 25 pounds less per side than the old aluminum propellers and provide an additional 3 inches of ground clearance. Best of all, time before overhaul is 4,000 hours or six years, and the blades aren’t life limited as is the case with the aluminum propellers. The Hartzell propellers also provide greater thrust for improved takeoff performance, and reduced time to climb and less noise.

A couple of other notable features of the propellers, which have actually been included in the design for decades, are the electronic synchrophaser, which allows the pilot to easily keep the props in sync, and automatic feathering. This second capability is a safety enhancement that quickly — and without pilot input — feathers the prop in the event of a loss of engine power. Simultaneously, rudder boost provides rudder input opposite the dead engine to make an engine failure at low altitude a relatively benign event. The King Air 250 has power to spare to climb briskly even on one engine under most conditions. When I did my King Air 200 initial training a few years ago, I recall marveling at what a no-brainer engine failures were compared with lesser twins.

The next clue that the King Air 250 represents a marked improvement over previous iterations comes the moment you pop the rear door latch and pull down the airstair that allows entry to the cabin. The passenger compartment offers improved refinement, compared with older King Air 200 models, while affording the same large space, which is bigger than a Cessna Citation M2 or Embraer Phenom 100’s cabin and about the same dimensions as the HondaJet. The “square-oval” design of the King Air’s fuselage provides lots of head and shoulder room for the occupants of the six passenger seats in back, plus a seventh belted lavatory opposite the entryway.

What stood out to me was the cavernous rear baggage compartment just to the right of the airstair entrance, which measures 55.3 cubic feet and can handle a load of 550 pounds of suitcases, golf bags, cargo or whatever else you might wish to bring aboard. Other welcome enhancements in the cabin include electronic window shades that automatically go dark when the airplane is unpowered for privacy and to keep the cabin cool. Each window can be controlled separately by the passengers, or the pilot can control all at once. Pyramid-style cabinets at the front of the cabin provide easy access to drinks and snacks and also make smart use of the cabin space, which also stays relatively quiet in flight thanks to passive noise-reduction features added to the airplane back in the mid-2000s and the quieter composite props. Optional Wi-Fi, either through Gogo’s air-to-ground network or global Inmarsat SwiftBroadband service, completes a package that stacks up well against pretty much any other turboprop or light jet on the market.

A Dazzling Front Office

Where the King Air 250 really sets itself apart, however, is in the cockpit, which is home to the Rockwell Collins Pro Line Fusion avionics system. Fusion in the King Air features three large 14-inch touchscreen flight displays, a pair of cursor-control devices and a qwerty keyboard. The cockpit space is a blend of old and new. The modern avionics contrast with the analog fuel control panel and circuit breakers on the side walls and the various switches below the displays and elsewhere that will be instantly familiar to anyone who’s flown older King Air 200s with round gauges or the original Collins EFIS. Retained in the King Air 250 are cockpit windows that can be opened, a rarity for turbine business airplanes nowadays.

On the glareshield resides the electronic backup display, below which is the modern autopilot control panel designed for ease of use by single pilots. In fact, everything in the cockpit has been created to make the King Air 250 a simple airplane for a single pilot to master with ease. Synthetic vision is included as standard, as is dual FMS, weather radar, WAAS GPS, animated Nexrad graphics, charts and interactive maps, and graphical flight-planning capability. This last item is one of the coolest features of the Pro Line Fusion system because it lets you use the touchscreen to manipulate your route of flight with the simple swipe of a finger.

The primary and multifunction touchscreens are used for just about everything you can imagine, including touch panning, data entry, setting up instrument approaches, looking up and tuning radio frequencies, and selecting map overlays, such as topography, obstacles, weather and airways. The windows that reside within Fusion are customizable, allowing you to choose one, two, three or four for display of charts, maps, flight plans, maintenance information and more. Icons on the screens are easy to interact with, as is Fusion’s shallow menu architecture that makes it all but impossible to get lost in the weeds when searching for information or making inputs.

Two other enhancements to the airplane’s design, accomplished through STC-approved modifications, are what finally elevate a King Air 200 to King Air 250 status. The first is a Raisbeck ram air recovery system that maximizes airflow to the engine induction inlet, allowing the Pratt PT6As to maintain the same power with the ice vanes deployed as when they are stowed. The ram air system also allows the King Air 250 to produce more torque at all altitudes, provides cooler inlet turbine temperatures and increases available shaft horsepower.

The second mod, and the one most King Air pilots will notice the moment they see a King Air 250 on the ramp, is the addition of carbon-fiber winglets from BLR Aerospace. Besides their great look, which is really just a bonus, they increase effective wingspan by almost 3½ feet to 57 feet 11 inches, thereby providing reduced drag and better takeoff and climb performance. The added wingspan increases lift, while the winglets themselves affect the air flowing past them, making it work for the wing instead of against it. It’s no wonder winglets have become a near universal industry standard on turbine airplanes.

Because the PT6A engines lack full-authority digital engine control, there’s a good deal of engine management required, which keeps the pilot occupied more than I’d prefer. The engine start procedure is nearly identical to that of older King Airs, requiring a dance among the controls that takes a practiced captain a solid couple of minutes to complete. I found that the process, which at one time I could perform from memory, had mostly left my brain. With prompting from my traveling companion, King Air demo pilot Bill Sentilles in the right seat, I was able to get the engines spooling and we were on our way.

To experience what the performance improvements can do for the airplane, we topped the main tanks with 2,585 pounds of fuel and headed off with three aboard a bit under the King Air 250’s maximum certified takeoff weight of 12,500 pounds. Takeoff is no different from other 200 series King Airs as you advance the throttles to the torque limits — a measure of power to the propeller — and raise the nose gently to rotate. Once off the runway and cleaned up, the King Air 250 flies beautifully.

We saw climb rates of between 1,500 and 2,000 fpm all the way up to our initial altitude of 22,000 feet. Once cleared to FL 260 and set up for cruise flight with the props set at a low 1,700 rpm and the power set for high-speed cruise, we saw speeds just over 300 ktas on the ISA+3-degree day. That’s 30 knots faster than the -42-powered King Air 200 of yore, an airspeed we could have kept up at higher altitudes with a lower fuel burn, though we were limited by the fact that our airplane did not yet have RVSM approval.

Flying the King Air 250

I hand-flew all the way up to FL 260 to get a feel for the airplane, which has a reassuringly heavy feel and is nicely balanced. It’s extremely stable in pitch, so it was no trouble for me to maintain our precise altitude using trim and occasional light fingertip adjustments on the yoke to keep the airplane chevron symbol on the PFD nuzzled against the flight-director cue. During maneuvering, I also found the airplane to be just as stable as I remembered, another excellent attribute for single pilots who will fly in IMC as often as Mother Nature and ATC dictate.

The biggest change in the King Air 250 since the last time we wrote about the airplane six years ago is the switch from Pro Line 21 to Pro Line Fusion avionics. This was my first time experiencing the cockpit in the air. I immediately felt at ease with the technology as I quickly came to understand just how simple the touchscreens are to use. Even in occasional light chop I had no trouble selecting what I wanted and making the system do as commanded. Most pilots will use a combination of touch-screen and keyboard inputs. I really never found the need to use the cursor-control device, although I could imagine it coming in handy in rougher air.

Sequencing for the arrival back into Morristown Airport in New Jersey, I requested a deviation around a cell and had a chance to use the “rubber-band” feature on the touchscreen. I tapped on my course line and pulled it slightly to the right to skirt the weather I could see on the screen and out the windshield. The animated SiriusXM Nexrad imagery is an excellent feature, as are electronic checklists and the ability to select a visual approach that will provide ILS-like course guidance all the way to touchdown — although, without terrain or obstacle clearance assurances, it should be noted.

All current-production King Airs have a three-position flap system with available selections for up, approach or down. Select the setting you want and the flaps move to that position, easy as could be. That’s a welcome change from the ponderous philosophy in some older King Air models, in which moving the flap handle from down to approach elicits no movement of the flaps whatsoever. Instead, you have to move the flap handle from down all the way to up, wait for the flaps to reach approach setting and then move the flap handle to approach. Thankfully, I wouldn’t have to worry about any of that for my ILS approach back at KMMU.

It wasn’t until long after the engines were shut down and I had time to think about it some more that I began to mentally reacquaint myself with the allure of the King Air 250. Because its weight is below the 12,500-pound threshold, there’s no need for a type rating. The cabin size, speed, range and operating economics all make the 250 a fabulous family airplane, especially if you’ll be flying in busier airspace where ATC will often keep you down low — the bane of any light-jet owner’s existence.

Really, the King Air 250 is ideal for the buyer seeking an airplane that can tackle a range of missions, from delivering cargo to jungle villages to flying to executive meetings at downtown airports, taking family on far-flung vacation getaways and more. Big, rugged and dependable, the King Air 250 is a go-almost-anywhere kind of machine that can be flown confidently by any practiced pilot and deliver an experience few other aircraft can match. The proof is that no other manufacturer or airplane has yet succeeded in pushing the King Air off its throne.

So why not buy a used King Air 200 instead and upgrade it with the range of engine, prop and avionics modifications available for aftermarket purchase? By the time you hang the new engines and props, install a new interior, fit the upgraded avionics and pay for a fresh coat of paint, you might find that your refurbed King Air has cost more than you bargained for — and remember, at the end of the day it’s still an old airframe. If a King Air truly makes sense for you, you can buy a new 250 with all 2,000-plus of those great Beech-inspired refinements, fly the heck out of it for as many years or decades as you have left on this earth and be completely satisfied with your decision.

The post We Fly: Beechcraft King Air 250 appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Diamond DA62 at a Glance

It’s a pity, however, that so few people are expected to buy it. Don’t blame Diamond for that. Light-piston twin sales have been so slow for so long that most aircraft buyers — and aviation writers — have written off the segment as all but dead. And no wonder. There aren’t nearly as many pilots hanging around airports today who will tell you they need a twin. That’s mainly a byproduct of the rise of high-performance piston singles like the Cirrus SR22 and Cessna TTx, which can do pretty much everything a twin can but with substantially reduced operating costs and essentially no ­safety penalty.

With a single, obviously, there’s only one engine to care for, and the chances of it quitting are low — and if it does quit in the Cirrus, there’s a full-airframe parachute to save the day.

That’s what makes the emergence of an all-new light-piston twin in this class something of a surprise. With the elegantly sculpted DA62’s arrival amid a field of brawny gasoline-powered ­singles, suddenly we have to ask ourselves if the market for twins isn’t quite as dead as we thought. Perhaps it has merely been in a state of prolonged hibernation, slumbering peacefully through a long winter, awaiting the arrival of a new kind of light twin, one that can do more with less.

Still, it’s not quite time to announce a comeback for the piston twin segment. The DA62 is an anomaly, an outlier. After all, most pilots coming up through the ranks today who aren’t dreaming of an airline career feel no pressing urge to “move up” to a twin. Those who used to — the pilots who flew twin-engine bombers in World War II and trusted two engines more than one — have all but stopped flying and, for the most part, offering advice to younger pilots.

The resulting shift in attitudes and buying habits in favor of single-engine airplanes is clear. In the late 1970s, for example, there were 33 different piston twins on the market. Today, there are only five serious contenders — and apart from the seven-place DA62, only two of these, the Beech Baron G58 and Piper Seneca V, offer more than four seats.

A Flying SUV

Seven seats in a twin in this class, by the way, is quite an engineering feat. I’m not a fan of describing any airplane as an “aerial SUV” — even if, yes, it’s roomy inside and has a decent payload — because the label is almost always an exaggeration dreamed up by someone in the marketing department. But in the case of the DA62 it would be ignoring a glaringly obvious design characteristic not to mention it. With its third-row seating option, oversize doors and seats that fold flat to accommodate bulky items, there’s no other way to say it — the DA62 is a sport utility vehicle with wings.

That’s no accident. In developing this airplane as an evolutionary step up from the four-seat DA42, Diamond Aircraft founder and CEO Christian Dries challenged his engineering team to create a safe, simple-to-operate, fuel-efficient twin and wrap it around a passenger compartment mimicking the latest luxury SUVs. Unlike gas-guzzling sport utility vehicles, though, the DA62 boasts outstanding fuel economy. Its twin 180-horsepower Austro AE330 diesel engines burn less than 10 gallons per hour per side at maximum continuous power, propelling the airplane to a top speed of right around 200 knots. Pull the throttles back to 75 percent power and the speed is still a respectable 187 ktas, but fuel burn drops to just 7.4 gph per side — an impressive 14.8 gph total that’s lower than a number of light-piston singles can manage on one engine.

I had the chance to spend a couple of days flying the DA62 recently on a visit to the Diamond Aircraft factory at the company-owned Wiener Neustadt East Airport south of Vienna. I came away from the experience persuaded that, for the right buyer, this is very nearly the ideal airplane. If, for example, you need seven seats versus the five or six offered in competing airplanes, the DA62 makes perfect sense. If you also don’t have access to a ready supply of 100LL avgas, the DA62 is a great alternative to gasoline-powered models. And if you simply feel more comfortable flying over inhospitable terrain or water, sometimes at night, and desire the power and systems redundancy that come with a second engine, the DA62 should absolutely be on your shopping list.

There are other reasons to like the DA62 as well. One of the characteristics that left an impression on me is how dirt simple this airplane is to operate. Take the engine start procedure, for example. It involves the easy-as-pie steps of hitting the master switch, flipping the engine master on, waiting a moment to ensure the glow plug annunciation is out and then pushing the engine start button. That’s it. The ­Austro diesels come to life in an instant as the dual-channel full authority ­digital engine controls (fadec) manage rpm and continuously check for faults while your only other job is to glance at the oil pressure indication. As long as the gauges are in the green, you’re good to go.

The before-takeoff run-up procedure is equally as stress free. It involves setting the parking brake, manually selecting the A and B channels of the electronic engine control units (EECU) to ensure both are online, and then pushing and holding the engine run-up buttons. Here’s where the magic starts as the AE330’s fadec computers automatically increase power to 1,950 rpm and perform a number of health checks, including cycling the props. The throttles never physically move and there aren’t any prop levers to move in the first place. If no fault messages ­appear on the Garmin G1000 primary flight display when the test sequence is completed, you’re ready for departure.

In this case, that meant swinging the airplane onto Wiener Neustadt’s Runway 10 with a 25-knot direct crosswind blowing from the left. I added a fistful of that smooth diesel power and, per the book, rotated at 80 knots. Acceleration to 95 knots for the climb-out was brisk as I began the bizarre sequence of noise-abatement twists and turns designed to keep air traffic away from residential areas as well as a military airfield right next door to the airport.

Climbing to 5,000 feet at 110 kias, the DA62 maintained a 1,450 fpm rate of climb at our midweight with two on board and half fuel. Accelerating to a cruise climb speed of 128 kias produced a 1,200 fpm rate through 8,000 feet. That’s when I asked my host in the right seat, Diamond Aircraft director of flight operations Martin Scherrer, for a demonstration of the DA62’s ­single-engine performance. Still climbing, at his direction I flicked off the left engine master switch (the left is the critical engine in the DA62). The ­propeller immediately stopped, automatically feathering as it did so.

The airplane lurched left as a result of loss of thrust on that side, and I instinctively raised the left wing, stepped on the rudder, and then dialed in rudder trim to compensate. After that, the airplane was as easy to fly on one engine as on two. Earning a multiengine rating in a DA62 with its two power levers (opposed to the usual six levers found in most piston twins) would almost be cheating, I decided. I let the speed come back to the 87-knot blue line (single-engine best rate-of-climb airspeed) and was impressed to see us still climbing at 450 fpm.

Speed Test

Next I wanted to evaluate the DA62’s cruise performance to see if this really is a 200-knot airplane as Dries originally envisioned. I leveled off at 14,000 feet with the throttles pushed full forward to max continuous power of 95 percent and let the speed build. On this day, slightly warmer than standard and a little lower than optimal, I managed to coax 195 ktas from those twin AE330s while burning 18.6 gph. Hitting 200 knots in a Beech Baron in similar conditions would result in a fuel consumption of around 30 gph, so I wasn’t terribly disappointed with the results I was seeing.

I tried out a variety of power settings and found what I considered a sweet spot at 60 percent power showing 170 ktas and 11.8 gph fuel consumption. After heading lower and trying a series of steep turns and power-on and -off stalls (which were, predictably, nonevents with nothing more dramatic than a slight wing drop in the stalls), I shut down the right engine for some engine-out maneuvering. Here’s where the economy really improved. Loafing along at 100 knots in level flight we were showing a fuel burn of an eye-popping 3.6 gph. I did a quick mental calculation and realized that, even with less than half fuel on board, at this rate our flight endurance would still be more than 11 hours.

There would be virtually no way to stave off boredom on such a long flight, in part because the pilot doesn’t have much to do in the DA62 in cruise. By design, pilot workload is low in all flight regimes, something I think nonprofessionals will come to greatly ­appreciate. Even performing aerial engine restarts is an almost total no-brainer for the pilot. The single-lever power controls don’t require any special adjustments, meaning all the pilot has to worry about is maintaining the proper airspeed so the prop will ­windmill back to life when the engine master is switched back on.

In fact, fitted as it is with the latest generation of Garmin G1000 avionics with synthetic-vision technology (SVT) and electronic stability and protection (ESP), plus a three-axis Garmin GFC 700 autopilot and GWX 70 weather radar, there’s an argument to be made that the DA62 is the among the most capable and easiest-to-fly piston airplanes ever produced. It’s a 21st century technological marvel wrapped in a slippery and sensual ­carbon-fiber package.

After a sightseeing detour through some breathtakingly gorgeous valleys in the Alps southwest of Vienna (where handling in the bumps was rock solid), we headed back to Wiener Neustadt so I could try my hand at landings in the DA62. The wind was still blowing at 20 knots for my first arrival, which involved flying the strangest pattern I’ve ever performed as I was compelled to wheel around small towns at odd altitudes to accommodate for departing traffic and the bordering military airspace.

The landing culminated with a tight descending turn at the edge of the adjacent military airfield as I targeted 90 knots on final with full flaps selected. Max demonstrated crosswind component with full flaps in the DA62 is 25 knots, slightly better than in the DA42, and I found that the DA62 ­handled the wind with no problem, even with its slender wing spanning nearly 48 feet.

Creature Comforts

Inside, the DA62 has the same center control stick, throttle placement and cockpit display layout that are familiar to pilots of the Diamond DA40 and DA42. Round-dial backup instruments have been replaced with an electronic standby instrument with emergency battery. The seats are leather with seatback adjustments, but they don’t move fore and aft. Instead, the rudder pedals can be adjusted forward and back to accommodate a variety of pilots. I found that I had plenty of headroom and adequate forward visibility from my vantage point in the left seat. My companion in the right seat, at 6 feet, 8 inches tall, fit the space surprisingly well. A welcome touch is an armrest in the center of the cockpit between the pilots that is just the right width and height.

The DA62’s three large gull-wing doors and the forward-folding seats, plus smart placement of handholds, make entry and exit from the DA62 extremely easy. There are cup holders for the front-seat occupants and a variety of LED interior lighting options throughout the cabin. Options include air conditioning, a 36-gallon aux fuel tank, Garmin weather radar and satellite data receiver, and Avidyne TAS600 traffic advisory system. New for the DA62 is an upgraded metallic paint option that lets buyers choose colors other than the standard white found on many carbon-composite aircraft.

Although it isn’t offered with a parachute, the DA62 benefits from a variety of standard and optional safety features. Its benign, big-airplane handling makes it easy to hand-fly. It also features aluminum fuel tanks sandwiched between the carbon-fiber main wing spars for exceptional crashworthiness, and incorporates Diamond’s trademark high-impact fixed seats that are attached to strategically located crush points in the floor. The composite monocoque cabin design was borrowed from the Formula 1 racing world. Like all Diamond products, the airplane has undergone crashworthiness testing similar to what is ­performed in the auto industry. The DA62 also offers full icing protection with its TKS weeping wing option.

The U.S. spec version that goes on sale this month offers a 5,071-pound gross weight (versus 4,400 pounds for the European version to avoid the ATC fees levied on heavier airplanes) and a 1,300-nautical-mile range with a full-fuel payload of over 1,000 pounds. Its 2.0-liter Austro compression ignition engines, meanwhile, sip jet-A fuel while offering the peace of mind that comes with a 13,000-foot single-engine service ceiling (at max gross weight) and the turbocharged power to propel it to respectable top speed. The cabin is the roomiest in its class, plus there are two spacious baggage compartments in the nose that can accommodate full-size suitcases, golf bags and more.

One of the big questions I had about the DA62, obviously, is whether this really is a bona fide seven-person airplane with those two extra seats way in the back. There’s ample room in the front seats and in the middle row as well with its three seats, but the rear seats would be cramped for two adults. I hopped in back and felt there was plenty of room for me alone, but I wouldn’t want a seatmate. It would be ideal, though, for two children.

The DA62’s useful load in the international spec version is 1,609 pounds — about 100 pounds more than a Baron G58 — meaning that with half fuel the average weight of each passenger could top out at around 190 pounds. I ran through a number of weight and balance scenarios and came away convinced that with those fuel-efficient Austro diesels, this truly is a seven-person airplane that still offers decent range and speed. A real-world scenario I plugged in involved loading five full-size adults, two children, bags and 60 gallons of fuel for a 644 nm range at standard cruise power at 14,000 feet.

At $1.08 million for the U.S. model before typical options, the DA62 compares well with the competition, slotting in above the price of a new Piper ­Seneca V and below the Baron G58. What could give some buyers pause is the short engine overhaul interval, which at the moment is a mere 1,000 hours for the new Austro AE330s. Based on the Mercedes-Benz diesels in B-class automobiles, the engine is a proven design, and the 1,000-hour limitation is projected to be short-lived as Diamond gains experience with the aero engine. The company hopes to increase TBO to as high as 2,400 hours eventually. Other required engine maintenance, meanwhile, includes inspection of the generators at 300 hours, and replacement of the high-pressure fuel pump and inspection of the two-mass flywheel at 600 hours.

The DA62 earned its type certification in Europe last April and should have received its Part 23 approval papers from the FAA by the time you read this. Sales are slated to begin in North America before the end of the year, meaning it won’t be long before you start seeing the DA62 appear on airport ramps.

With its long, tapered high-aspect ratio wing featuring slightly upswept tips, unusual engine cowl shape and silky-smooth composite fuselage, it’ll be hard to miss. Once you see it in person, it will probably take all of about five seconds before you decide you want to fly it. It’s an experience I highly recommend, but don’t be surprised if you suffer from a serious case of twin envy afterward.

Spec Box

The Diamond DA62 flown for this report was an international spec model with optional third-row seating accommodating seven people, increased 5,071-pound maximum takeoff weight, built-in oxygen, air conditioning, TKS icing protection, Garmin GWX 70 weather radar and GSR 56 satellite data receiver, Avidyne TAS600 traffic advisory system, 36-gallon auxiliary fuel tank, metallic paint and more.

The post We Fly: Diamond DA62 appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Daher’s TBM family of airplanes has attracted a cult following of passionate owners — nearly 800 of them and counting since the original TBM 700 emerged almost 30 years ago — for reasons that should be a mystery to no one. Distilled to their essence, the current production TBM 900 and the brand-new TBM 930 hold the distinction of being the fastest single-engine production airplanes in existence. They can operate from remarkably short runways and have the range to skip intermediate fuel stops required of lesser airplanes. Inside, the 930 is stylish and comfortable with room for six in an elegantly remodeled Elite interior that rivals those of many light jets. It’s not hyperbole to proclaim this is the best TBM yet.

Daher TBM 930 at a Glance

The biggest change to the 930, of course, is the addition of its version of Garmin’s G3000 avionics, the same system found in various forms today in the HondaJet, Cessna M2 and CJ3+, Embraer Phenom 300, Cirrus Vision Jet and Piper M600. Besides including two user-friendly touchscreens for interfacing with the avionics, technology enhancements to the TBM 930 also bring Garmin’s electronic stability protection (ESP), underspeed protection (USP), emergency descent mode (EDM), and voice warnings for stalls, landing-gear extension, overspeed and cabin pressure, which replace beeps, horns and chimes used before with attention-grabbing verbal warnings such as “stall, stall,” “check gear” and “use oxygen mask.”

Putting the 930 to the Test

For pilots accustomed to flying earlier TBM 700 and 850 models, one of the biggest differences you’ll note is the additional power available for takeoff, made possible by the addition of winglets on the 900 and now the 930. They improve controllability in the takeoff configuration, permitting an increase in takeoff power from 700 shp previously to 850 shp. That difference in available power was readily apparent as I advanced the power lever for departure from Pompano Beach Airport’s 3,500-foot-long Runway 10 and made the turnout toward Lakeland, Florida. Besides noticeably better initial acceleration, the takeoff roll was shorter than in the previous models.

With two aboard and midfuel, we rocketed to our cruising altitude of FL 280. Even with the moderately warm ISA-plus-13 temperature on this summer morning in South Florida, we saw an initial rate of climb of 2,400 fpm, and later 1,700 fpm as we climbed into the flight levels. We reached 28,000 feet in just 21 minutes, even with ATC initially directing us to level off at 2,000 feet. We were limited to FL 280 only because this brand-new TBM 930 did not yet have approval for operations in RVSM airspace. The TBM’s max operating altitude with RVSM approval is 31,000 feet. Still, the TBM 930’s Pratt & Whitney PT6A-66D engine loves life in the mid-20s, and the performance we saw at FL 280 was impressive.

Now well above the clouds and headed northwest toward Lakeland, I left the power up and watched as we accelerated to 323 ktas, quite a bit faster than the original TBM 700 and 850 — and faster by more than 60 knots than the Pilatus PC-12 and Piper M600, the turboprop singles that bracket the TBM 930 in the market. At max power, we were burning 60 gallons an hour — not bad at all for an airplane that is the near performance rival of many light jets.

Max range at economy power setting with four adults on board is 1,466 nm, though I’d imagine owners will more typically flight plan for 1,200 nm legs at max cruise speed (or somewhat slower), leaving them with a comfortable hour-and-a-halfish fuel reserve.

Apart from the winglets, which reduce drag and improve low-speed handling, another secret to the TBM 900 and 930’s success is a five-blade Hartzell composite prop, which contributes to shorter takeoff distances, faster climbs and higher cruise speed. Daher engineers also cleaned up the airframe, extensively redesigning the cowling, now constructed of carbon fiber, to cut drag and improve engine cooling.

The 900 and 930 retain the same PT6A-66D engine as the TBM 850, but a new torque limiter provides improved flat-rated power. The combination of a new single-lever power control, which combines thrust, propeller and condition levers, and auto-starter shut-off make the TBM 900 and 930 dirt simple to manage. The power lever is an ingenious design that incorporates a beefy single lever in an h pattern; after engine start, it slides to the left to serve as the thrust lever. Starting the engine is a simple matter of turning the overhead start switch “on,” waiting for 13 percent Ng and moving the power lever into the low-idle position. Within 28 seconds the starter cuts out automatically, and by 40 seconds ITT has stabilized and the start is complete. There’s no full-authority digital engine control (fadec) on a PT6, but it’s as easy to manage as a non-fadec turbine engine can get.

Before reaching Lakeland, we asked ATC for a block of airspace to do some airwork. At 28,000 feet, the 930 was a pleasure to hand-fly, with excellent roll rate, a solid feel and harmonized controls. Next, my host, TBM demo pilot Wayman Luy, suggested we take the express elevator to a lower VFR altitude for a demonstration of the G3000 system’s built-in safety features.

I’ve done 6,000 fpm down over the Swiss Alps in a Premier I light jet, but even that ride paled in comparison to the TBM 930’s diving ability in the simulated emergency descent. I pushed the nose over and pulled the power to idle. Wayman suggested a steeper descent. I complied by easing the nose more sharply lower, pointing it at the bluish-green water of Lake Okeechobee far below. As speed climbed toward the 930’s Mmo of 271 kias, the VSI was pegged at a ridiculous 9,200 fpm. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush from that roller-coaster ride, but I don’t even recall my ears popping in the descent.

Technology Enhancements

Leveling at 4,500 feet, I performed a series of steep turns, slow flight, an imminent stall with gear and flaps down, and a power-on stall. As the stall approaches, the G3000’s USP feature, linked to the angle of attack computer, comes alive as it automatically commands the autopilot servos to lower the nose. ESP, meanwhile, will attempt to return the airplane to level flight if bank or pitch angle limits are exceeded.

Two of the enhanced safety features of the G3000 were incorporated into the 930 in response to fatal accidents. In one case, a pilot descended from 28,000 feet to 15,000 feet but forgot to add power. Speed decayed until the airplane stalled and crashed. With the G3000’s USP feature, the airplane will descend automatically if you don’t add power. If you do nothing to correct the situation, you might still crash, but you will do so more or less under control.

EDM, meanwhile, was incorporated as a result of a TBM 900 crash that killed a couple known well in the TBM owner community, Larry and Jane Glazer, after a suspected loss of cabin pressure at FL 280 while flying over Georgia, headed for Florida. EDM in the 930 will automatically descend the airplane if you lose cabin pressurization, in which case the autopilot will command a 90-degree turn left — to get off the airway and make it clear to ATC something is wrong — and a descent at Vmo to 15,000 feet.

The G3000 system is a big improvement over the G1000 thanks to its integrated touchscreens, which permit the pilot to perform nearly all interactions with the system on its smart and shallow menu architecture. The package includes three high-resolution flight displays (which are not touchscreens), each of which allows for numerous split-screen presentations that let you put information right where you want it. Synthetic vision, of course, is standard. Below the flight displays are the two Garmin GTC 580 touch controllers, placed in landscape presentation to better fit the panel space. A Mid-Continent electronic standby instrument is standard equipment.

Interestingly, Daher has opted to continue offering the G1000-equipped TBM 900 alongside the 930. Customers can even decide whether they want a 900 or 930 a mere eight weeks before they plan to take delivery since, besides the difference in avionics, the airplanes are identical. The price for the TBM 930 is $4.099 million versus $3.889 million for a new 900. Standard features of both models include ADS-B Out capability, flight data recorders, and XM weather and music.

Next, we headed to Airglades Airport (2IS) in Central Florida for takeoffs and landings on its 5,900-by-75-foot runway. The 930 is easy to land, requiring a gentle easing off of the power coming over the numbers at 85 knots and a round out to fly the airplane onto the runway with slightly increased back pressure just before the mains touch. Ample reverse thrust will stop the airplane in a hurry. The book lists a landing distance of 2,430 feet over a 50-foot obstacle, making this a great airplane to take to remote airstrips that can put you on the doorstep to unforgettable adventures.

Heading back to Pompano Beach, I hand-flew an RNAV LPV approach followed by a quick circuit in the pattern before heading back in for shutdown and debriefing. A second flight was conducted days later for the gorgeous photos that accompany this article. That job was made all the easier by the fact that the TBM 930, with its aggressive lines and nicely integrated winglets, is such a handsome airplane.

Elite Interior

It’s just as striking on the inside and a marked improvement over the TBM 850 thanks to interior details introduced to the 900 and 930 for 2016. Carpeting is thicker, wood and carbon-fiber accents are more attractive, and the airstair has a more stylish look. They are small improvements, but they add in a big way to the total package, which is one of refinement and class. There are two climate zones, one for pilots and one for passengers. Also, the seats in the main cabin can be arranged to face backward or forward, or they can be quickly removed if you need to carry bulky items. Daher also offers an enclosed toilet, a nice option for an airplane that can travel as far as the 930. A change buyers love is the addition of an optional pilotside door, which makes entry and exit much easier than clawing through the cabin.

Daher is upping its game on the support side as well by providing free initial flight training at Simcom in Orlando, Florida; five years of free maintenance (covering everything except tires and brakes); a five-year, tip-to-tail warranty; and a five-year subscription to electronic maintenance management through CAMP. In addition, Daher offers a number of free iPad apps and a customer website with free access to all the documentation that comes with the airplane, including the POH and maintenance manuals. All U.S. buyers are also offered the opportunity to ride along on the delivery ferry flight from the factory in Tarbes, France, offering a good introduction to the airplane over several days alongside a professional pilot.

There’s little question that the TBM’s legion of fans will continue to rave about this latest version of the French airplane, despite a marginally higher price tag. Many buyers, I suspect, could afford to buy a fleet of TBMs or a top-of-the-line business jet — i.e., money really is no object — but they choose to fly the TBM for its unique performance attributes, refined build quality and exceptional handling. It’s an airplane you can fly long distances at near-light-jet speeds into an exponentially greater number of runways. Now, thanks to improvements in the cockpit and cabin introduced with the 930, the latest TBM is also the most technologically advanced and comfortable version ever. That’s a potent combination, and one we expect will excel in the market.

The post The TBM 930 Is Another Daher Masterpiece appeared first on FLYING Magazine.