Questions from the Cockpit: A friendly dogfight

A periodic feature in the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association (AOPA) magazine is a column called “Dogfight,” where two staff members take opposing views on one of the myriad of subjects that pilots can never agree on. That’s always good fun, and after reading my esteemed colleague Jamie Beckett’s recent Politics for Pilots column, “At least 12% of this story is true,” extolling the virtues of high-wing aircraft, I felt compelled to defend my low-wing brothers and sisters by responding in dogfight fashion.

Look out, Jamie, I’m coming in out of the sun! Oh…right…You can’t see above you… I guess the first couple of shots of the dogfight go to me, if my aim is good enough!

But seriously, this is an interesting topic, as wing location can make for very different flying experiences from preflight all the way through to post-flight.

If for some reason I can’t comprehend you haven’t already read Jamie’s column, take a quick break and do that first, as I’m going to construct my counter-arguments point-by-point to match his piece.

Interestingly, on this subject, Jamie and I actually have something in common. He started in low-wing airplanes, then later found his true love in the high-wing. I’m exactly the opposite: I started in high-wing airplanes, then later found my true love in the low-wing. I point this out lest anyone think we are both simply pre-disposed in our choice of mount based on the early impressions of youth, primacy, or early-phase training bias.

JB’s Point No. 1: The ground is dirty

Jamie doesn’t like low-wings because proper preflight requires crawling under the wing. He also plays the age card here (another thing we have in common), saying with age “stooping down and scooting under the wing to grab a fuel sample, check the tires, inspect the brakes” just doesn’t appeal to him.

To this I say: What could possibly be better stretching exercises for senior citizens? Really, Medicare should fully cover three hours of flight each week for all senior pilots flying low-wings. It’s the perfect exercise routine. A good 20 minute preflight, an hour of flight to workout other muscles, and then a 20 minute postflight — why, it could add years to our life spans. And because we’d be so much more healthy, we’d use the rest of our insurance benefits less. That’s preventative medicine at its best. I’m sure it would pay for itself in no time at all.

But truthfully, this round goes to Jamie. I got down under my Ercoupe just fine the other morning, but then found that getting up again was, well, slower than a Vx climb-out in a strong headwind.

Although, that said, I don’t really think you can do a proper high-wing preflight without at least some bending and stooping.

Now that it’s winter, we need to be checking the breather tubes at the bottom of the cowl for ice, it’s always a good idea to make sure the belly antennas are still there, and one should always check that there’s no evidence of a tail strike courtesy the previous pilot to fly the airplane.

Oh, and the exhaust needs to be checked for undue movement and, of course, many high-wings have fuel sumps at the bottom of the engine. Just how well you can see your brakes from Jamie’s six-foot eye altitude is up for argument, especially when age is coming into play.

As to wing fuel sumps, yeah, that’s a stoop-a-thon for the low-wing pilot, but at least it’s generally only one per wing. The “Sierra” model Sky Hawk has five sumps per wing for a total of 10. That’s 10 episodes of sumping fuel at near eye level per flight, which is just asking for trouble in a breeze. It also requires raising your arm above your head, so there’s a risk of repetitive stress injury for us old folks.

Now that I think a bit more about it, maybe this round is a draw.

JB’s Point No. 2: High-wings provide shade

My colleague didn’t expend a whole lot of words on this subject beyond skin cancer risks and saying his appreciation for shade has increased in direct proportion to his hair loss. So, Jamie, there’s this thing called a hat…

Seriously, all of us who venture into the sky place ourselves in an environment where there is less atmosphere protecting us from damaging UV light from the sun, and low-wings tend to let in more light than high-wings, plus there’s no arguing that it’s better to sit in a chair under a high-wing at Oshkosh than try to fit your chair under a low-wing at the same venue.

JB’s Point No. 3: Fuel system simplicity

Jamie admires gravity-fed fuel systems, writing, “Over the full lifespan of the Earth, gravity is undefeated.” I, too, admire the reliability of gravity-fed fuel systems, but they are independent of wing configuration.

My Ercoupe is gravity fed, although low-wing, as it has a header tank above and behind the engine. At the same time, the more than 70 Cessna 172 “S” models at the flight school where I work have two fuel pumps each because they need them. If both the engine-driven and electric pumps were to fail, their fuel-injected engines would stop from fuel starvation. Which, granted, is not very likely.

Likewise, in a traditional low-wing, the pairing of two fuel pumps of different operational characteristics provides an abundance of backup. Yes, crazy things can happen, but crazy things can happen to a gravity-fed system, too. While gravity is undefeated, fuel lines aren’t.

JB’s Concession No. 1: High-wings are best for short pilots

Sooner or later, Jamie admits, all pilots or passengers of any height at all will eventually suffer what he calls the “Cessna Diamond Forehead” from colliding with the trailing edge of the wing (personally, the Cessna dent in my skull came from the flap hinge). And while admitting that there is zero risk of this for low-wing pilots, he can’t help but take one last low blow by saying that “pilots of low-wing aircraft may scoff at our plight as they brush the dirt and grime from the knees of their best pair of dress slacks.” To which I say one word: Flightsuit.

For years I’ve been a champion of flightsuits for GA pilots. Just because they have military heritage doesn’t make them a bad idea. In fact, much of what we use in our flight decks today has military DNA.

After that last concession, Jamie’s piece takes a creative turn. Still delightful to read, but a bit of a change of subject. So sticking with his 12%, I have a few other thoughts on the benefits and drawbacks of wing location.

View

The view of the outside world varies tremendously between high- and low-wing airplanes, with the high-wings having a better “sightseeing” view downwards.

While that’s nice, I personally think that operational view is more important, and one thing that all high-wing pilots will admit is that they can’t see where they are going when they turn their airplanes. I think that’s one of the things I like least about high-wings — banking is sort of like going into a dark alley in the wrong part of the city on a Saturday night. I like to see the sky I’m heading into. I also like to be able to see the runway I’m heading to when I’m making those traffic pattern turns.

And, actually, it’s more than just the blocked view of space you need to turn toward. In a high-wing airplane, the pilot’s head is quite close to the wing, making the view-blocking of the sky even more profound, proportionally. That downward viz comes at the sacrifice of nearly all view of the sky, save the view directly above the nose.

So unless your operation is search and rescue, I think the low-wing configuration is more operationally friendly. And it’s not like the view for sightseeing is bad in a low-wing. All airplanes provide tremendous views for pilots and passengers to take in.

Access

Many people will tell you that high-wing airplanes are easier to get into than low-wing airplanes, but again, it really has more to do with the make and model than the location of the wing.

Granted, it’s hard to beat the ease of access the Cessna 152 or 172 boast. But when was the last time you tried to climb into the front seat of a Cub or Champ?

Likewise, while some low-wings require clambering up onto the wing and then loading up single file, you don’t hear Cirrus owners complaining about how “hard” it is getting into their airplanes (and many of them are in the same age range as Jamie and I).

Fueling

When it comes to fueling, the low-wing airplanes win, hands down. No ladder is required to fuel a low-wing airplane and you don’t need to use your rock-wall climbing skills to confirm the fuel levels. Plus, you can just simply look to see if the fuel caps are on right. Or on at all.

Aerodynamics

There’s a ton written about the aerodynamic differences between the two wing configurations in takeoff and landing ops, in flight, and in emergencies. Suffice it to say that while it is true that there are more differences than you’d think at first glance, I’m not sure that any of them really matter. Unless you have a very limited operational envelope, the various pros and cons wash each other out over the operational spectrum for most pilots.

Postflight

I concede this point, to a degree: If you tie-down, the high-wing is easier to manage. At least when it comes to making the knot — you still have to stoop down to get the rope off that dirty ground. If you’re hangared, on the other hand, I think it’s easier to guide a low-wing into a hangar, especially if it’s a slightly tight squeeze, as is the case with many hangars.

Bottom line

For me, the bottom line is that the bottom-wing is the winner. Yeah, crawling around on the ground during preflight isn’t great, and sometimes I suffer from shade envy.

And while I like my easy fueling, my in-flight maneuvering viz, and all the rest, I think my love of the low-wing comes down to something else altogether. For me, “riding the wing” is fabulous. Sitting on the wing simply gives me the feel of flight. It must be how it feels to ride a surfboard.

I never personally get that same feeling hanging beneath the wing. That darn high-wing above makes me feel more passenger than pilot — and I like to feel like a pilot when I fly.