Beginning with bicycles and radio-controlled cars in grade school, I’d pore through various magazines and create elaborate custom builds on paper with meticulous detail. I would typically conduct these exercises during class because, frankly, mitochondria and the Louisiana Purchase simply couldn’t compete with CODA Magic cranksets and Novak electronic speed controllers.  

Later, after serving several sentences of detention for my inattention in class—during which I continued my builds—I moved on to motorcycles. Before long, I had acquired a BMW R1150GS Adventure and had outfitted it as a formidable overland touring motorcycle. I rode that bike around Lake Superior three times and even from Wisconsin to Maine and back before graduating to the pinnacle of expensive, motorized hobbies: aircraft ownership.

• READ MORE: Life Lessons and Surviving a Fight With Sheet Metal Screws

The progression has been rewarding, and I’ve learned that airplanes are even more satisfying to learn, modify, evaluate, and master than land-based machines.

General aviation airplanes provide an intriguing balance of new technology and historical design. I also appreciate how, like bicycles, most airplanes are simple enough for even minor changes and modifications to be readily apparent to the user. Change a set of control arms on a two-ton BMW packed to the gills with electronic wizardry and tomblike cabin insulation, and you might not even notice the change. But installing some tiny vortex generators or 10 pounds of tail ballast in many airplanes will completely transform the flying experience. 

As I’ve been modifying my Cessna 170 over the past few years, I’ve enjoyed evaluating each upgrade and change individually. Thus far, the McCauley seaplane propeller, Alaskan Bushwheels, and Garmin panel have been the most impressive. But it’s particularly interesting to evaluate and understand the interplay between these changes—how one modification might unexpectedly affect another.

The most striking example of this involves my Garmin GI 275 EIS engine monitor and the aforementioned McCauley seaplane propeller. Both are outstanding upgrades, but now, having flown with both for over a year, I would never want to install the prop without the engine monitor.

• READ MORE: 5 of the Best Pieces of Gear for Epic Underwing Camping

The concern, I’ve come to learn, involves cylinder head temperatures (CHTs). I had an expensive and unfortunate lesson in CHT monitoring on my first lesson in my airplane. The incident resulted in an unexpected top overhaul of my engine and gave me an appreciation for the value of a good engine monitor. 

The flatter-pitch seaplane prop introduces huge capability and performance gains for a relatively small investment but also demands careful monitoring of CHTs during climbs. Because the engine turns so much faster during takeoff and climb, the engine becomes hotter. This is exacerbated by the correspondingly lower speeds in climb and cruise. 

The difference was eye-opening. On warm summer days, if I simply select maximum throttle for takeoff and keep it there up to cruise altitudes as I did with the standard prop, it’s quite easy to exceed 425 degrees CHT. Had I kept the old digital gauge that displayed just one cylinder—

and did so down on the lower section of the panel—it’s questionable how evident this would be.

The GI 275 EIS, on the other hand, displays each cylinder’s information in bright, crisp color, making it clear and easy to understand, even at a quick glance. Just as importantly, it’s mounted up high on the panel, bringing the information front and center. Positioned here, trends are instantly evident—and particularly when colors change from green to yellow or from yellow to red, they don’t go unnoticed.

Armed with such comprehensive, real-time information about the state of each individual cylinder, I’ve adjusted my flying accordingly. No longer do I simply set the throttle and leave it there for the duration of the climb. Instead, I massage my climb rate and throttle setting to keep my CHTs below 400 degrees.

This requires some concerted effort. It feels odd to reduce power at 1,000 feet agl, and it feels even more odd to momentarily level off at 1,500 feet agl to build airspeed and keep the cylinders cool. But any annoyance is quickly erased by the satisfaction of knowing that the engine is happy and properly cared for.

I love my seaplane prop and unwaveringly recommend it to anyone with a Continental C-145 or O-300 engine. It transforms the thrust and takeoff performance of a 145 hp airplane for a tiny fraction of the cost of an upgraded engine. But it has become clear that the prop alone is an incomplete modification. Without a corresponding engine monitor, pitfalls emerge, and an unsuspecting pilot could learn some lessons the hard way.

So there you have it. Evidence that one fun upgrade can easily justify another. And evidence that a grade-schooler’s time spent poring over their favorite hobbyist magazines during class can pay off later in life. 

The post The Interplay of Upgrades appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Today’s Top Pick is a 2004 Maule M-7-260C.

Maules stand out on the ramp for a number of reasons. Even people accustomed to spotting taildraggers might not recognize these Georgia-built backcountry airplanes. They do not look like Piper Super Cubs, Cessna 180s, or any of the usual suspects at your favorite grass strip. But for bush-flying enthusiasts and pilots whose travels take them regularly to short fields, Maules are objects of desire.

The M-7-260C for sale here combines Maule’s reputation for lifting heavy loads from short runways with a roomy, versatile cabin and cruising speeds that make longer trips more attractive. This rugged aircraft is at home whether traveling to paved runways or challenging off-airport destinations.

This 2004 Maule M-7-260C has 1,058 hours since new on the airframe, its 260 hp Lycoming IO-540 engine and Hartzell Scimitar propeller. The aircraft is equipped with 29-inch Alaskan Bushwheels, a Tundra Tailwheel assembly, and vortex generators.

The panel includes a Garmin GMA 340 audio panel, GNS 530W GPS/nav/com, SL40 nav/com, GTX 330 transponder, Electronics International CGR 30P engine monitor, dual Garmin G5s, GI-106 glide slope, S-TEC 30 autopilot with altitude hold, and dual USB ports.

Pilots looking for an over-the-counter bush airplane from a company that has specialized in backcountry flying for decades should consider this 2004 Maule M-7-260C, which is available for $320,000 on AircraftForSale.

You can arrange financing of the aircraft through FLYING Finance. For more information, email info@flyingfinance.com.

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The post This 2004 Maule M-7-260C Is a Direct Route to Adventure and an ‘AircraftForSale’ Top Pick appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

From an owner’s point of view, the two forms of transportation share another important characteristic—they can both infect their owners with severe upgrade fever. I first experienced this malady as a student in junior high school. Rather than studying relevant, lesson-related material in class every day, I could invariably be found building custom mountain bikes on graph paper, meticulously listing each and every part along with its corresponding cost and weight down to the last gram. I’d build exquisite titanium masterpieces in theory, and then save my pennies to upgrade my decidedly more modest bike part-by-part in practice.

In those days, I was what was known as a shop rat. Any time not spent working and earning upgrade money was spent loitering at the bike shop, annoying the employees with endless questions, and drooling over the latest high-end componentry and suspension forks. Just one shifter upgrade or set of tires would be the hard-earned result of weeks or even months of research and work, and when the new part was finally installed, my bike would become that much more magical.

Fast forward to the present day, and things haven’t changed much. Life has become cluttered with more complications, such as a full-time career, medical bills, and the unanswered question of what state I’ll call home a year from now. But for better or worse, the specter of upgrade fever remains firmly perched on my shoulder, criticizing my current setup and urging me to upgrade just one more part on my beloved Cessna 170.

From the beginning, I’ve recognized and acknowledged that the weakest element of the equation was the one seated at the controls. Whether I was straining to climb steep hills so easily dominated by my decidedly more fit riding buddies, or carefully planning flights only to airports with crosswinds within my meager personal limitations, it has always been clear that I am the part most badly in need of replacement. Still, analyzing and upgrading my pride and joy has proven to be as addictive as it ever was.

Both then and now, I’ve found myself wondering how much more enjoyable my machine would be if I were provided with unlimited funds; how much more fun I’d have if I could swipe a magical credit card and instantly transform my steed into a showcase of perfection. From Nuke Proof carbon fiber handlebars to Lycoming IO-390s, I imagine how much more fun it would be to own and utilize a fully tricked-out, custom machine with nothing left to upgrade. 

I’m fortunate to have made that journey in the far more affordable world of bicycles, because doing so taught me an important lesson. It taught me that when it comes to upgrading one’s machine, it’s actually far more rewarding to do so gradually, part by part. Only in this manner can one take time to absorb the difference…positive or negative…that the latest change has made in terms of the overall experience.

I’ve also been fortunate to have leveraged social media (separately from my work here at FLYING) to establish partnerships with a handful of companies. In exchange for honest evaluations of certain products on my most popular social media platform, they’re providing me with products for free or for a reduced cost. As an everyday airplane owner with piloting skill that is in no way remarkable or impressive, my feedback provides them with a correspondingly real-world view into how their products serve a decidedly average customer.

As it happens, the key to an accurate, unbiased review is no different than the key to getting the most enjoyment out of each upgrade—the gradual introduction of each element separately, so each can be independently evaluated and appreciated. Thus far, the formula has worked beautifully.

For example, I decided to get familiar with my 170 on small, high-pressure tires before upgrading to big, low-pressure Alaskan Bushwheels. I reasoned that if I were to upgrade right away, I’d never have a reference point to properly evaluate the real-world effect of the big tires. Nearly a year later, I bought some used 26-inch Bushwheels and subsequently had a blast discovering how they change takeoffs, landings, and even taxiing. Had I installed them at the time I purchased my airplane, I’d never have been able to fully appreciate the difference they make. I’d have taken their benefits for granted, and I would never have been able to explain them thoroughly to readers.

Similarly, I opted to fly on my well-worn stock propeller for a couple of seasons before pursuing a sponsorship for a new one. My old prop had around 2,000 hours on it since overhaul and produced a level of thrust nearly as anemic as that produced by an old broomstick strapped to the crankshaft. Takeoffs from short strips with obstacles were exciting in all the wrong ways. But like the tire upgrade, my recent switch to a factory-fresh McCauley seaplane prop has taught me a tremendous amount about how such an upgrade can completely transform an airplane.

In my younger mountain biking days, I found the long waits between each upgrade excruciating. I hated having to settle for basic, entry-level components for so long while I saved my pennies to replace them with the parts I ogled in magazines. But looking back, that experience was hugely valuable. It taught me to savor each upgrade and enjoy the gradual process of making my machine into the machine I want it to be. It taught me that the journey toward a perfect spec sheet is far more enjoyable than having the perfect setup from the beginning.

The post The Specter of Upgrade Fever appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

Due to our status as repeat offenders, Mrs. Frye reacted swiftly and fiercely. She sent us both directly to the office, where the principal drafted official disciplinary letters to be taken home and signed by our parents. While I was ultimately able to successfully represent myself and avoid any harsh sentencing, the anticipation of punishment was both stressful and memorable.

Last week, decades after the incident, that long-forgotten feeling of dread resurfaced when I potentially damaged the grass runway at my home airport and once again found myself anticipating harsh punishment. 

The weather had, over the preceding three weeks, been completely miserable and unfit for flying. If it wasn’t gale-force crosswinds, it was heavy snowfall or low ceilings with freezing precipitation. In other words, it had been a typical Wisconsin winter, and I was ready for some revenge flying the moment the weather improved.

Finally, a beautiful Sunday emerged. Brilliant blue sky and a mercifully light, warm breeze drew me to the airport with bright eyes and a bushy tail. Pulling into the airport, I saw the runway had been plowed. It was shaping up to be a perfect day for flying. 

Then I turned into the hangar row and saw the carnage of sloppy, careless snow plow work. Though the runway had been nicely cleared, the areas in front of the hangars were littered with massive pools of mud, trenches of dirt, and haphazard snow drifts, some as tall as my car. It looked like the snowplow driver was attempting to fight off a family of rabid wolverines while operating the vehicle.

Coating my car in clumps of mud and nearly getting stuck, I finally made it to my hangar and surveyed the scene. The plow had apparently made just one pass in front of my hangar, leaving me with insufficient space to taxi. I had to get creative. 

I hopped back into my car and spent the next 20 minutes driving back and forth across the fender-high snow drifts. Eventually, I was able to flatten them and create a path to the runway. I felt bad for subjecting my beloved Volkswagen GTI to such abuse, but I was motivated to fly.

With the big snow drifts out of the way, I was confident my problems were behind me. I had, after all, upgraded to 26” Alaskan Bushwheels last summer. While it would have been dangerous to taxi through frozen snow drifts over half their height, their floatation would make it possible to negotiate the muddy wasteland before me safely.

Sure enough, the taxi out went fine. The combination of slick tires and similarly slick mud and snow made it challenging to steer with any degree of precision, but I was able to remain stationary for the runup and avoid sliding into any tall drifts. I slithered out to the runway feeling simultaneously angry at the airport owner for his substandard plowing and victorious for conquering it.

The pattern work went fine, as well. I always feel rusty after three or more weeks without flying, but after the first landing, muscle memory had returned and I felt better. The only item of concern was a near-total lack of traction atop the wet, muddy grass. A light tap of a brake resulted in instant lockup with no perceptible change in speed or direction. Fortunately, the Cessna 170B lands slowly and I was able to maintain centerline reasonably well. The biggest challenge was getting turned around for each backtaxi.

After hammering out a number of landings, I decided not to press my luck any further and started to work my way through the slop and back to my hangar. This took twice as long as normal due to ineffective differential braking, but I made it safely. Best of all, the airplane was intact.

The runway, however, was not.

As expected, my big tundra tires and their 8 psi of pressure left virtually no imprints on the ground. But the standard, everyday tailwheel acted like a pizza cutter. Like a grotesque, real-life Flightaware track, each landing and backtaxi was marked with a vivid black trench where the tailwheel had carved its signature deep into the soft ground.

I quickly looked around to see if anyone was present to identify me as the guilty party. The coast was clear. With unprecedented speed and efficiency, I pulled the plane back into the hangar and buttoned everything up. A rooster tail of mud behind my VW marked my departure, and I headed home at a brisk pace.

As of this writing, I’m facing one of two scenarios. Either the airport owner doesn’t care about tailwheel trenches, in which case I’m home free. Or he does, and I stand to incur his wrath the next time he spots me out at my hangar. If the latter scenario occurs, I will admit my shortsightedness and will face my punishment without complaint. Either way, I’ll tell him about it since it’s the right thing to do.

Until then, the anticipation of my fate takes me right back to fifth grade, where I once again envision worst-case scenarios and prepare for my day of reckoning.

The post Will This Perfect Day for Flying Go Unpunished? appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

In my mind’s eye, civilization is crumbling and good people need saving. Having already set up my own residence and airstrip on some remote sliver of northern Michigan shoreline, I set out every week to scout for supplies and search for other survivors. Accessing these places will require the aforementioned STOL and off-airport modifications. Purchasing them is, therefore, necessary to my survival.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

In reality, I’m an exceedingly mediocre private pilot with little tailwheel experience and an aversion to strips less than 1,600 feet long. My airplane is far more capable than I am, and has logged almost exactly 10 times more hours than me. And realistically, should any number of apocalyptic scenarios occur, my own lifespan will probably be measured in minutes. 

• READ MORE: Three Lessons From a Year of Airplane Ownership

Intriguing Scenarios

Still, outfitting an airplane for intriguing scenarios is good fun. Like motorcyclists modifying their machines for long-distance adventuring or for short rips through the twisties, one can customize their aircraft to accommodate any number of missions. Recognizing that I’d like to eventually explore some of the more challenging uncharted strips in my area, I have been gradually modifying my Cessna 170 accordingly, and one of the first big mods was a set of 26-inch Alaskan Bushwheels.

I didn’t make the upgrade right away. I wanted to conduct a good portion of my tailwheel training on pavement, and given how quickly the big Bushwheels are said to wear out on hard surfaces, I opted to subject my existing 7.00-6 tires to the abuse instead. Although Bushwheels can be ordered in a “heavy-tread” option that is longer-lasting, I still didn’t like the idea of running such expensive tires on pavement unnecessarily.

When the time came to upgrade, it would hit the bank account hard. Big wheels require big brakes, and while my airplane’s single-piston Clevelands worked fine with small tires, double-pistons would be necessary for the big ones. In the interest of avoiding any spacing/interference issues between the brake discs and tires, I ordered the $2,300 wheel/brake kit from Airframes Alaska, the company that manufactures Alaskan Bushwheels.

The big tires provided a smooth ride atop a makeshift grass strip when both permanent runways were closed. [Photo: Jason McDowell]

From there, I began comparing the tires themselves. The three popular options for airplanes like my Cessna 170 are 26-, 29-, and 31-inch Alaskan Bushwheels. They range from $1,695 per tire for basic 26-inch tires to $2,100 per tire for the 31-inch tires. The heavy-tread option provides more durability for occasional hard-surface operations and adds about $200 per tire.

As I was browsing the tire selection, I happened upon a Craigslist ad for some 26-inch heavy-tread Alaskan Bushwheels for sale near me with very little use. I jumped on the opportunity and ended up paying about half the price of brand-new tires. Although I was leaning toward the 29-inch size, I was happy to settle for the smaller tires given the savings.

• READ MORE: Flight Deck Organizing Tips and Tricks

Benefits

While waiting for my mechanic to install them as part of my annual, I considered the benefits that I would soon be experiencing. The thin, pliable rubber of the Bushwheels is pillowy soft compared to traditional tires, making most rocks, lumps, holes, and other runway imperfections a non factor. Because the tire itself is a tube, no valve stem pokes through a hole in the wheel. This enables you to run very low, single-digit pressures without any risk of spinning the tire and shearing off a valve stem as you would with a traditional tire. 

Bigger tires provide more ground clearance. This keeps your prop farther away from the ground, reducing the likelihood of a prop strike while taking off and landing, or while taxiing across uneven terrain. Considering a prop strike would most likely result in $35,000 to $40,000 in overhaul and repair costs, the tires suddenly seem like cheap insurance.

Big tires also keep the trailing edge of the wing farther away from your forehead; as long as I’m outboard of the flaps, the big tires enable me to walk beneath my wing without ducking my head. To those who have not yet joined the Cessna Diamond Club, this likely seems inconsequential. To the rest of us with trailing-edge flap marks in our foreheads, it’s pretty nice.

When I finally had them installed at my annual, my 170 looked like an entirely different airplane. Gone was the wimpy-looking stock look, and in its place was a beefy, stable stance that looked ready to take on the world. Even though I had gone with the smallest Bushwheels available, it looked like a monster truck in comparison.

The visual change becomes comically apparent when looking through older, pre-Bushwheel photos. [Photo: Jason McDowell]

The landing characteristics were even more notable. The sight picture had changed, and because the bottoms of the tires were lower than the old ones, a slightly earlier flare/level-off became necessary. Three-point, full-stall landings didn’t feel much different, but with wheel landings, I tended to level off just an instant too late. Fortunately, the tires are soft enough that they simply flex and mush into the ground, and provided the touchdown is gradual, I can barely detect their contact with the ground.

• READ MORE: Should Your First Airplane Be a Taildragger?

Soaking Up the Imperfections

I recently had to run a friend to an airport about 50 nm away to pick up his airplane that had been in for annual. This particular airport has two paved runways, and because of construction, each was closed. Fortunately, the airport had mown a temporary grass strip alongside one of the runways, and with my new tires, I didn’t hesitate to use it.

As I trundled down the length of the strip after landing, I could tell the surface wasn’t particularly smooth…but I could also tell the new tires were earning their keep and soaking up the imperfections. Taxiing across some unfamiliar expanses of grass to get to the FBO would have been concerning with the old tires, but the ability of the new ones to safely roll over ruts and gopher holes put me at ease, and I didn’t sweat it.

On the way back, I had to fly over a county or two of rolling farm fields. Having spent some time working in such fields, I knew the soil could be unforgiving. Depending on conditions, the furrows could be soft enough to swallow normal tires or they could be as hard as rock, resembling concrete sidewalk curbs. In either case, massive, low-pressure Bushwheels would legitimately increase the likelihood of walking away from an off-airport landing with little to no damage or injury. More cheap insurance.   

• READ MORE: Relocating Can Be Complicated When Airplanes Are Involved

Worthwhile Questions

For the rest of the flight home, I reflected upon my high-dollar purchase. Was it worth the thousands of dollars I had spent? As a regular private pilot with neither the skill nor the desire to compete in STOL competitions and land on short, mountaintop strips, did they still provide an acceptable return on investment?   

They’re worthwhile questions. Having to spend $3,400 to $4,600 for a set of tires seems positively insane, even through the lens of aircraft ownership and unnecessarily expensive parts. It’s just a tremendous amount of money for two tires.

As I pondered this on my flight home, I surveyed the terrain below with newfound confidence, feeling better about the likelihood of saving both myself and the airplane in a forced landing. As the rolling terrain gave way to more hospitable flat fields, I found myself looking forward to my next landing even more than usual. My spindly old 1953 Cessna had become transformed into a flying Tonka truck, and I wanted to play.

Ultimately, I decided that if the four grand simply replaced existing tires, it would be a colossal waste of money. But considering how the Bushwheels provide confidence, capability, and plain old fun, I feel good about my purchase and I’m now a believer.

The post Tundra Tires Bring More Than Just Good Looks appeared first on FLYING Magazine.

However, you’ll be able to go into a wider range of airstrips—those with both paved and unimproved surfaces—if you take just a few steps towards “kitting your airplane out” as a true backcountry companion. Here are a few key areas that we’ve identified that are ripe for upgrades—along with a great option in each category.

Tundra Tires

Big, fluffy, puffy tires—the ones that off-piste pilots dream about—come up as the No. 1 mod you want if you plan to fly in the backcountry. From unimproved grass and dirt to gravel roads, the extra give they provide makes for softer—and safer—landings. They replace the main-gear tires upon their installation on most tailwheel aircraft.

Alaskan Bushwheels, made by Airframes Alaska, come in a range of sizes starting at 26-inch models (priced at $1,474 per tire), and run up to the 35-inch Beaver Bushwheels, fit for a de Havilland Beaver (as you might guess), but also Pilatus aircraft with a gross weight of up to 5,600 pounds (priced at $2,443 each). Want one for your tailwheel as well? The Baby Bushwheel starts at 11 inches in diameter and comes with various assemblies for a proper fit.

Climb Props

Taking a big bite out of the air makes all the difference in the world when you’re trying to claw above a line of trees encircling your choice of landing spot. While you can adjust a regular fixed-pitch propeller to optimize climb in a lot of cases, having a specific prop tuned to improve performance takes you even further in reducing takeoff distances and climb rate, and reducing the impact of ground erosion. One drawback? Setting for climb pitch may reduce your cruise speed.

Hartzell has a catalog of Top Prop conversions to suit a wide range of piston- and turboprop-powered airplanes, from Beechcraft, Cessna, Piper, Mooney, Pilatus, and Daher. The company also has programs for American Champion, Aviat, Cirrus, Commander, Diamond, Extra, Fairchild, and Maule, as well as several experimental aircraft models. Pricing ranges widely by model.

Truly Slow Flight

Getting the stall speed down on your stock airplane results in a number of advantages for any pilot—not just those flying into shorter strips. But that low stall speed translates into a wider safety margin in normal operations, and a slower touchdown speed overall. When you land slowly, you stop in a shorter distance. Vortex generators (VGs) help slow that speed by controlling airflow over that portion of the wing and its control surfaces, or horizontal or vertical stabilizer, energizing the boundary layer so the airflow doesn’t separate.

Micro AeroDynamics produces VGs for a long list of aircraft models from more than 21 different manufacturers. They come in a kit for you to install along with your aircraft technician, with templates included for easy application to the wing surface. Kits start at $695 for many singles.

• READ MORE: The Draw of STOL Drag

Drooping and Cuffing Your Cessna

Another great STOL mod fits outboard on your wingtips. With a signature droop instead of an arcing winglet, these wingtip mods also lower stall speed and thus reduce the landing distance you need. In addition to popular mods from Robertson and Horton, Stene Aviation also produces the Sportsman STOL Cuffs, originally designed by Lockheed’s Skunkworks. The leading-edge cuffs work by increasing the wing’s efficiency along with its resistance to stalls and spins. The Sportsman STOL kit re-engineers the airfoil to achieve this upgrade. Prices for your specific airplane can be obtained from the manufacturers.

Airbags for Airplanes

They may not be glamorous, but one look at an airplane perched up on its nose after a ground loop will cause you to appreciate installing the latest in safety belt upgrades—the seatbelt airbag for airplanes. Now standard or optional equipment in a preponderance of new aircraft, airbag seatbelts are available for aftermarket installation as well.

AmSafe has produced airbag seatbelts since 1997—they pioneered the concept that first flew in 2001. While they produce model-specific airbag seatbelts for more than 150 types, they have also designed a “universal” kit that will fit nearly any seat in any general aviation airplane, according to the company. Prices vary by model or for the universal kit.

See and Be Seen

There’s no ATC in the backcountry, so you’re on your own as far as separating yourself from other traffic. And while you seek remote strips in order to break away from it all, your choice may prove popular on a good-weather weekend. It only takes one other airplane to make a midair collision. Having good exterior illumination costs relatively little—and just a single LED installation can last you a lifetime of flying. LEDs—or light emitting diodes—are so much more efficient than regular bulbs that they’re now used across the board in automobiles—so their application in aircraft makes perfect sense.

Whelen Aerospace Technologies has created LED assemblies to light up your entire aircraft, including wingtip nav or position lights, anti-collision lights, landing lights, and tail beacons. In particular, their landing and taxi lights can be used as recognition lights—and they draw much less power (by amperage) than traditional incandescent lights. Pricing ranges by installation.

This article was first published in the 2022 Southeast Adventure Guide edition of FLYING Magazine.

The post How To Mod Your Ride for Backcountry Fun appeared first on FLYING Magazine.