• [As part of routine maintenance requiring an engine run to check for leaks], I assisted by pulling some of the gear safety pins...then proceeded to perform a quick inspection of the nose gear area. From my vantage point in front of the gear, I did not notice the nose gear pin still installed.

• At the beginning of the next night's shift, I was briefed that the aircraft had returned to the airport because the nose landing gear wouldn't retract. The mechanics found the nose gear safety pin still installed. The safety pin was removed, and the aircraft was once again dispatched.

Flying the flags might have prevented another return-to-land incident, as reported by a corporate Captain:

• Early morning departure from a dark ramp; I did not finish my walk-around inspection, as I was interrupted by a passenger arriving early. I never resumed my normal routine. On takeoff, I heard the First Officer call, "You've got no airspeed." I then called, "Say your airspeed." Came the reply, "I've got no airspeed either." By that time, we had considerable speed, and...I elected to continue takeoff. Airborne, I got the "ADC [Air Data Computer] failure" light. We decided to dump fuel and return to base.
  
  The aircraft had been inspected and washed the day before, and tape had been left on the static ports and pitot tubes. I had not seen it in the dark, and my pre-flight had been interrupted. No excuse! It was CAVU this time, but what if it had been 200 feet and half-mile visibility?!

Optimists and pessimists alike can appreciate the difficulties a commuter Captain confronted due to a half-cup of water:

• The First Officer handed his nearly-empty cup of water to the Flight Attendant (FA), and requested a refill. The FA dropped it on the center console. Very little water spilled and we immediately cleaned it up. A few minutes later, the cabin altitude began to fluctuate-climbing and descending. We initiated a descent to below 10,000 feet. While descending, the passenger oxygen masks deployed. The flight continued to our destination without incident. Even though everything turned out all right, it can never be emphasized enough: be very cautious with liquids around electronic components.

The Big Sky

A recent ASRS report reminds us that the "big sky" isn't as big as we may think. A parachute-jump plane pilot explains in an ASRS report:

• After takeoff, I told Center that we were 4-1/2 minutes until jumpers away, and I confirmed that there was no traffic in the area. At 12,000 feet, I made an announcement on CTAF that jumpers would be jumping in two minutes. At one minute away from jumpers exiting the aircraft, a spotter checked one last time for hazardous traffic. I made one final announcement on CTAF that jumping would be in progress for the next 10 minutes.
  
  After landing, I was told that an aircraft hit a skydiver's open canopy at about 2,000 feet, just seconds after the chute deployed. The most outboard cell of the chute had a one-foot tear in it, confirming the event. The skydiver was not hurt, nor was the chute damaged enough for a cutaway.
  
  The pilot of the other aircraft knew he was near the drop zone. He also heard the two-minute call on the CTAF, but continued flying circles near the area. It is possible that he was distracted while circling and sightseeing.

In the September CALLBACK, we published summaries of two research papers presented by ASRS at The Ohio State University Ninth International Aviation Psychology Symposium. One of these discussed communications-related difficulties that occur during general aviation dual flight instruction. Some of these problems included failure to comply with ATC clearances, poor radio technique, and confusing or misleading intra-cockpit communications. Below are three incident reports relevant to these issues. First, an instructor confesses to being a little too wrapped up in the instruction mode.

• My student and I were practicing takeoffs and landings. We had started flying using headsets, with the radios being monitored through the headsets. After the first landing, my student stated that he would prefer to continue the flight without the use of the headsets. I said OK, and we both took our headsets off. At this time, I failed to ensure that the radios were being monitored on the overhead speaker in the cockpit. We got involved in the lesson, doing approximately five touch-and-goes, and I failed to notice that we had not heard from the Tower during this time. When I did notice the speaker button was not in the proper position, I immediately pushed the button and made contact with the Tower. They terminated the flight and I was instructed to telephone the Tower as soon as possible. The Tower Supervisor made me aware of the impact of my error.

• After a briefing on the ground, we took off. Runway 35 was in use; we were to fly the ILS 17 approach. I was wearing a hood, and the CFI was coaching me through the turns and timing. Intercom between headsets was in use. At some point, the CFI turned down the radio volume because traffic between Tower and other aircraft was conflicting with his instructions. I removed the hood at Decision Height, noted a flashing red light signal from the Tower cab, and immediately initiated a missed approach. My first thought was that the Tower had lost their radio. Then I was shocked to see our radio volume turned down. The CFI admitted that he had forgotten to turn it back up.

"Wishy-Washy Coms"

What a private pilot refers to as "wishy-washy communications" led to lack of a positive hand-off of aircraft control-and nearly resulted in a damaged aircraft.

• We were shooting a practice approach on the ILS/DME. At the middle marker, the instructor took the controls while I removed the hood. He flew it to about 75-50 feet above the runway surface. I was willing to let him do the landing, although I did not communicate this to him. He then said, "Uh, you can have control...if you, uh, want it." I probably replied, "OK" rather than the usual, "I have control." I began to pull the nose up slowly, when I thought I felt the instructor push forward on his wheel. I thought this to be unusual since we were low and descending fast in a nose-low condition. I then relaxed, thinking he was still flying the aircraft. The nosewheel touched down first and we bounced back up. I then noticed him grabbing the wheel as he announced, "I have control." My response was, "I thought you [already] had control." We both then realized that nobody was really flying the aircraft. Autoland?