A dark cloud has recently settled on the general aviation community from the fatal airplane crash of Babar and Haris Suleman. They were a father and son pilot team who were attempting to fly around the world. They had become popular through social media.
Followers of their journey wonder what happened that their Beechcraft could depart in ideal conditions — a 10,000-foot sea level runway at midnight — only to crash nose first into the inky black ocean seconds later? Speculation continues to light up many online forums, while the investigation remains ongoing. The leading theory is that they succumbed to the elusive and dreaded Black Hole Departure.
The Black Hole Departure, or as the FAA medical literature identifies it, the “Black Hole Illusion,” can happen on a night with no stars or moonlight over water or unlighted terrain. It can also happen when departing from a lighted runway where the horizon is not visible. The sudden loss of a horizon or any ground references is followed by the rapid onset of vertigo.
A pilot experiencing vertigo may typically do one of two things: The first is to bank the aircraft and push the yoke forward, descending into a death spiral. The other is to bank the airplane and pull back on the yoke, creating a stall-spin scenario. At low altitudes and low airspeeds, either maneuver often results in a death sentence.
Black Hole Departures are legendary in the pilot community. Legendary as they are rare, and generally avoidable. Rare because the majority of general aviation pilots haven’t flown in conditions that might precipitate them. Avoidable because the conditions that cause them are often transient. It’s like they say about the weather in New Hampshire, “If you don’t like it, wait a few minutes.”
That’s why the recent fatal crash of the Sulemans triggered so much Sturm und Drang in online forums. It’s also the reason why so many pilots formerly silent on the subject have come out to share their experiences encountering and surviving the dreaded Black Hole Departure.
Those, coupled with these excerpted from reports made to NASA’s Aviation Safety Reporting System, underscore a Black Hole Departure’s slippery and punishing nature:
“I was a crewmember in a California Highway Patrol airplane. We planned a local night instrument (IFR) flight. The ground visibility was good — I could see the length of the runway — but it seemed that the fog was getting lower. We took off from Runway 24. I saw that we had entered instrument flight conditions (IMC) almost immediately after takeoff. I also felt the aircraft start a right turn. I did a quick scan of the aircraft instruments and saw that we were in a 20° banked right turn. We were off course, our alt was leveling off at 500 feet, and our airspeed was increasing.
“I asked the flying pilot where we were headed. He confirmed we were en route to the VOR. I said we weren’t going to get there on our present heading, approximately 60° off course. I asked him if he was all right. He said he had vertigo.”
The reporting pilot then took control of the aircraft and course corrected until they got to VFR-on-top conditions. When he returned control of the airplane to the flying pilot for the practice approach, that pilot again flew the plane erratically, consistent with the return of vertigo. The reporting pilot again took control, canceled their original flight plan, and got VFR vectors to an airport where the weather was reported clear with ground visibility unobstructed.
This reporting pilot correctly assessed what had happened: “The pilot had set in his mind to do night flying but did not mentally prepare for entering actual IMC so quickly. I suggest that pilots receive regular dual night training and that all crew members are trained to recognize vertigo and to know what to do when it occurs.”
Pilots are pretty good at preparing themselves for the task at hand, especially when we’ve done it before. In the case of the California Highway Patrol pilot who got vertigo from a Black Hole Departure, he was ready for a VFR night takeoff based on his previous experiences — dark skies, lights on the ground and stars above to guide him. When he encountered a low ceiling, it obscured the lights below and the stars above. The pilot failed to recognize his new reality and jump on the instruments to stave off vertigo. Had he been flying solo that night, he probably would have been the subject of an NTSB report instead of a NASA report.
It doesn’t have to be a dark, unlit night to trigger a Black Hole Illusion. After all, as this NASA reporter proves, an unprepared pilot climbing into a sudden whiteout can also suffer the same scary fate:
“I had decided to perform some takeoffs and landings at KMMK. The weather was marginal VFR with an observed ceiling that looked OK. During climbout, the mist became light rain and the visibility became worse. Then the wall of white came and made the airport behind me disappear. I had no plan for this event.”
Like the highway patrol officer on the night flight, this pilot hadn’t planned for the possibility of losing visual ground and horizon reference. And he quickly got behind the aircraft:
“Barely at pattern altitude, but I could already tell that I had my hands full. Things were not good. I believe I was fighting vertigo. Some things were not making sense. I was able to tune in Bradley Approach and call for assistance. He gave me the altimeter setting and started giving me instructions. All turns were half standard rate. He kept reminding me to watch the airspeed and altimeter and would have me call out ‘wings level’ after the turns. At about 1,200 feet mean sea level, I came out of the clouds with the runway in front of me.”
This pilot ended up spending 30 minutes in IFR conditions when he had started out just wanting to spend a few minutes flying locally in VFR. He deluded himself into a false sense of security by telling himself that he “was just going to stay in the pattern.”
The bottom line is that Black Hole Departures can be black, white or gray. Their color is irrelevant. It’s the psychological makeup of the pilot at the moment he is confronted with a Black Hole Departure that determines whether it becomes a non-event or a deadly accident.
In both scenarios, each pilot expressed a certain amount of over-confidence. Instructor after instructor has taught that the over-confident pilot is a deadly pilot. He’s relaxed when he shouldn’t be. He stops looking for potential problems. His over-confidence lulls him into a false sense of security. It may encourage him to skip practiced procedures. This can quickly cause the pilot to get behind the plane, causing confusion. Confusion careens quickly into a crisis.
Salvation for both pilots came from having another crewmember onboard, one in the seat and the other on the radio. Sometimes having a second crewmember has the opposite effect. Sometimes it allows pilots to let themselves get sucked into a Black Hole Departure scenario.
In his summation, this pilot admitted that being part of a two-person crew caused him to exercise poor judgment:
“Departed Hillsboro in right seat of company jet. Conditions were IMC. Upon liftoff, I became disoriented and dizzy from vertigo,” wrote this NASA reporter. “The point of the ASRS report is that I probably used poor judgment flying the next leg from KPUB-KMOB. I should have grounded the plane and myself at KPUB. Contributing factors were ‘get home-itis’ and the belief that even if I were incapacitated, the 10-year captain could get us home.”
But what if the 10-year captain had also become incapacitated? What then? A jagged black scar on a mountainside? A black smear in a cornfield?
There are two ways to deal with a Black Hole Departure. The first is to avoid launching when conditions are ripe for its occurrence.
Unlike this guy: “Departed into clouds. Hit turbulence. Vertigo ensued. Plane hard to control and deviated from runway heading. Got it back under control but barely. I didn’t really explain to the tower what I’d hit. I just said I was in trouble and needed help. They put me back on radar heading, and I was handed to Departure. Departing almost zero/zero was a very bad idea. Turbulence in the clouds while climbing was harder to deal with than expected.”
The second is if it happens, take immediate action:
- GET on your instruments.
- STAY on your instruments.
- BELIEVE your instruments.
- EXPECT vertigo.
Golfers like to say, “You never want to be thinking ‘what if…’ on the golf course. You just want to be in the moment.” Alas, we don’t have that luxury. Pilots have to both be in the moment while simultaneously thinking “what if…”
That’s what will keep us from getting sucked into a Black Hole Departure disaster. That’s what staying ahead of the airplane is all about.
Great article and excellent comments from pros. Just reinforces my long-ago decision to stick to VFR (= very fun recreation). After all, no one has ever, or will, pay me to fly much less fly in the soup at night. Hats off to those who do it safely.
Actually I have to agree with Craig, those 2 should never have been out there, i sometimes find it amazing what people will do and even worse what the Aviation Community will allow, for someone to achieve their 15 minutes of fame.
Any pilot, who cannot handle the black hole, should never be in that situation in the first play, they should limit themselves to VFR day only.
Stop being so dramatic, “A dark cloud has recently settled on the general aviation community”. Most people who I spoke to who even knew about these two voiced the opinion that it was stupid for someone with so little experience to take on this challenge even with his experienced father at his side. No dark cloud for aviation when people do stupid things. As for your article past that, very good. I learned a lot. I had experienced vertigo diving at 135 feet in crystal clear water once when I looked up and all I could see was the boat and the sky but never gave it much thought that it could happen to me as you described. Thanks for the teaching.
I completely agree, Jeffrey. Get on the instruments and stay on them. If you need an autopilot backup, use it without reservation. Check to be sure everything is working before departure. I have taken off into black holes several times and in each case felt slight vertigo. An old trick an old and wise flight instructor taught me was look down at your feet, and bring your gaze back up to the instrument panel without ever raising it beyond. Believe those instruments!
Excellent article. Disorientation can even happen in VFR night conditions when something unexpected happens such as ATC giving you a different runway at the last minute. Once, when that happened to me I experienced the classic symptom of dizziness and just not being able to process what I was seeing. It lasted but a few seconds. I am thankful to a good instructor who drilled into me what to do – fly the airplane, and that meant resetting my brain by looking at the instruments AND admitting to ATC that I recognized the problem and was correcting it. Thank you to all the great instructors out there who make their students understand and train for what could have been a fatal last few minutes of life.
The Black Hole can get everyone.
I remember coming aboard the Ticonderoga CVA14 at night with low clouds and rain. All the way down the CCA (GCA) I was absolutely certain my faithful A4 was in a 90 degree bank. Out of the overcast, black, with no lights except the ship and landing lens. Everything was at 90 tilt!
It took every bit of concentration to follow the ball in a 90 degree bank! When the hook caught it jerked the entire world upright. Wow! Okay, just another trap and don’t tell anyone how scared you were.
I can say unequivocally that there’s no black hole like the black hole encountered immediately after departing by cat shot from an aircraft carrier into an ink black night with an overcast. Accordingly, Naval Aviator’s lives depend on their gauges (instruments). Get on ’em, stay on ’em and trust ’em no matter what. I’ve had experience flying entire missions, combat missions, and never once saw any ground, horizon or sky reference except on short final for landing from an approach to minimums. I’ve flown formation flights as a wingman in tactical jets where my only attitude reference was the aircraft upon whose wing I was flying in which vertigo would come upon me after visually joining up and then entering the soup requiring a tight formation followed at some point by a slow roll into me for a turn with me feeling as we no doubt rolled out of the turn that we had instead continued and steepened the bank angle and were now flying in a knife edge attitude (90 degree AOB) for the remainder of the flight.
I’m talking nerve wracking and sweat inducing to say nothing of the depleting energy affect it had as every muscle tightened including my grip on the stick. A quick glance inside at the gauges would only temporarily reset my “gyros.” In the proverbial black hole in a single ship, vertigo can only be effectively countered or dealt with by placing absolute trust in the gauges while scanning them all for confirmation.