Our work as ag-pilots entails a degree of artful talent. Before the days of GPS, that talent was especially true when the ag-pilot could “make a square peg fit in a round hole”, meaning if the farmer told him the field was 50 acres, then a 50-acre load would fit regardless how inaccurate the farmer’s guesswork. GPS changed that “art”.
The pilot had the flexibility to “adjust” the swath on the fly, although no changes were made to the booms and nozzles to accommodate the change. Also, the spray valve could be used to adjust the spray pressure helping to get the square peg into the round hole. Not any more, that art is gone, too.
One of the last artful things ag-pilots do in this age of technology is the timing for turning on the spray valve and turning it off. Sure, there are GPS units that do that for us, following the shape file. But, most pilots rely on their inherent timing, adjusting for ground speed, wind and obstacles that in most cases lay the swath down right where it is supposed to go; well, not always. That why it is an art and not a science. Every pass, every load and every job is different when it comes to turning on and off the spray valve. The more artistic (tongue in cheek) ag-pilot does a better job. One day, probably, that art will be gone. Well, the techno-geeks haven’t yet figured out how to “milk” a loaded ag-plane off a short strip. It’ll be a few years before that happens.
Not too long ago, I was riding in a car in Brazil driven by a Brazilian friend of mine. Until you have been on a two-lane highway crowded with big, slow trucks in Brazil, you may have a hard time understanding the danger driving there. It is quite unlike anything in the U.S. and other more regimented driving countries. I’ve traveled to many countries, however, I can’t say for sure which one is the most dangerous place to drive.
The point of all this is the comment my driver, Marcelo, made. A car had just passed on a hill in a curve going who knows how fast, met a truck head-on to split the difference between the passing and the oncoming vehicles. Even my Brazilian friend shook his head to this feat, although it is very common there.
“One should not let one minute be used to take the rest of one’s life,” are the loosely translated words that Marcelo spoke. I’ve often thought about that, how that driver was trying to save what amounted to maybe a minute by risking the rest of his life and others, as well. I’ve thought how that so readily translates to ag-flying. Why do we risk the rest of our life in a basic procedure turn trying to do it only a matter of seconds faster? It doesn’t make sense.
I don’t advocate 60-90 second turns, unless conditions dictate it. I don’t believe in 20-second hammerhead turns either. I was as guilty as they come the first few years I had a turbine Thrush. It could do remarkable things compared to the radial Ag-Cat that I had been flying. It takes discipline and professionalism to restrain oneself when at the controls of such a powerful machine.
After I sold my flying service to my competitor, then flew for him another 15 years, I learned a valuable lesson about ag procedure turns. I watched my new boss make his first turn of the day very much like the last one and all those in between. He set an example that I knew to follow. At the end of the day, I was much less tired and had covered as many acres as ever. I’m not sure the difference in 20-seconds and 30-40 seconds adds up to much.
Have you ever counted the number of turns made during a busy day of flying? Probably not; who has the time? Since not all of those turns would be 20 seconds, assuming the first half of the load wouldn’t allow it, nor during the heat of the day, I propose the time gain would be minimal.
Until next month, Keep Turning…
