The Crosscheck: Paraglider Fliers Should Be Like Pilots

NTSB photo

The harness and reserve chute of the paraglider involved in a midair collision.

Credit: NTSB

The first time I saw a powered paraglider takeoff I was climbing a rocky escarpment in Sedona, Arizona. I looked down and saw a man wrestling with a small, motorized chair and fan with parachute-looking fabric stretched out behind him. I heard the engine burp to life and watched as the man began to run through the Sonoran Desert cactus and brush. In a matter of seconds, the chute inflated and he lifted off. I was amazed.

As he rose and flew toward some serene sandstone cliffs nearby, I thought he must be enjoying this new way to experience the thrill of flight. Hikers, skiers, and rock climbers all find new ways to enjoy the outdoors, and here was another way. The paraglider was more like a raft drifting down the Colorado River or a dirt bike blasting up some remote trail than an aircraft. The machine was a way to observe the colorful terrain from above, not a real aircraft designed to climb into the vast blue sky.

And yet, today, some hobbyists do climb their powered paragliders into the same sky in which certified pilots fly certified airplanes. They are not required to have radios, transponders, ADS-B, collision warning devices or any other means of declaring their presence in flight. This makes them invisible to air traffic control and aircraft near them, and the collision risk is high.

Inevitably, a midair collision happened. A Dudek Solo 21 paraglider struck the leading edge of the right wing of a Cessna 208B Grand Caravan on Dec. 21, 2021, near Fulshear, Texas, killing both pilots. The Cessna was a Part 135 cargo flight on an IFR clearance and was maintaining an assigned altitude of 5,000 ft. It was 9:15 in the morning and skies were clear, with 6 mi. of visibility.

The only means the two pilots had to avoid each other was the “see and avoid” rule required by 14 CFR part 91.113 (b). The rule didn’t work, and the NTSB had the task of explaining why.

The two craft approached each other at a 90-deg. angle with a combined closing speed of 164 kt. The paraglider operator did not react until 8 sec. before the collision. Human visual acuity drops beyond about 2 deg. from the center of fixation. Peripheral vision detects motion, but there is no relative motion when two objects are on a collision course.

The Cessna pilot had the paraglider in his field of view for 17.5 sec., but there was a complex terrain background that reduced his time to see the paraglider to 7.4 sec. Poor visual contrast further reduced that time to 2-to-3 sec. Studies show that you need 12.5 sec. to react to a collision threat. Neither pilot had time to avoid the collision.

The NTSB concluded that the accident was caused by “the of the limitations of the see-and-avoid concept” compounded by the lack of collision avoidance technology on both aircraft. The Cessna had ADS-B Out but not ADS-B In. Even so, it could not have detected the paraglider.

Paragliders, both powered and unpowered, are governed by 14 CFR Part 103, Ultralight Vehicles, not Part 91, General Operating and Flight Rules, or Part 61, Certification: Pilots, Flight Instructors, and Ground Instructors. Neither the machines nor the operators are required to be certified. This means, among other things, that you can fly one of these paragliders without knowing about the hemispheric altitudes described in 91.159 and 91.179. The accident paraglider was at a standard IFR altitude for reasons known only to him.

Part 103.17, Operations in Certain Airspace, denies Class A, B, C and D airspace to ultralights, but allows them to operate in Class E airspace as long as they are outside the boundaries of airports. Class E airspace extends up to (but doesn’t include) 18,000 ft. MSL. Some risk-taking paraglider hobbyists have made video recordings of themselves at over 17,000 ft.

Part 103 does say that ultralights may not create a hazard to other persons and property, may not create a collision hazard, and must give way to all aircraft. This assumes an ultralight operator can see another aircraft in time to avoid it.

When Part 103 was promulgated in 1982, paragliders were unpowered. They launched from a slope and rarely rose into navigable airspace. The threat to air traffic seemed negligible. That is no longer the case. Powered paragliders are a threat to anyone else flying as well as to themselves when they venture beyond 3,000 ft. AGL. That’s where regular cruising altitudes start.

So, what’s to be done? The FAA could require radio contact with ATC and collision avoidance equipment for ultralights venturing into the cruising altitudes. That would require registration of the craft and is probably impractical.

Special airspace could be set aside or Notices to Air Missions issued for powered flight. The agency could require that ultralight operators obtain private pilot certificates, obliging them to learn the rules of the sky and to appreciate the rudiments of risk management. Operators could be required to comply with most or all of Parts 91 and 61 if they want to fly at cruising levels. Powered paragliders could simply remain below 3,000 ft.

To keep the privileges of flight at cruising levels, ultralight operators must transition from a hobbyist’s viewpoint to a pilot’s viewpoint. A hobbyist enjoys flight for its own sake and likes the novelty and tinkering that goes with it. He is not much concerned with his effect on others. A pilot is responsible for the safe conduct of a flight, and that includes considering how his or her actions might endanger others.

Finally, we all must accept that see-and-avoid, while a very useful and necessary concept, has distinct limitations. Our inability to spot other traffic in many situations is not a character flaw. It’s a predictable fact. There are other ways to augment our awareness of air traffic, and we have to use them.
 

Roger Cox

A former military, corporate and airline pilot, Roger Cox was also a senior investigator at the NTSB. He writes about aviation safety issues.