Learning To Fly Helicopters in the Guimbal Cabri G2

The first question friends asked when I mentioned that I signed up to learn to fly helicopters was “Why?” Then later, once they saw I was serious, they would ask how many hours it took me to solo in the helicopter.

The second question isn’t really pertinent because I never soloed. I signed up for the commercial rotorcraft add-on rating at FAA Part 141 training provider Pureflight Aviation Training at Chehalem Airpark in Oregon. Pureflight’s commercial add-on program doesn’t include any solo time, which was fine by me. Soloing in a helicopter isn’t a big goal, but getting “rotorcraft” on my FAA pilot certificate definitely was.

The advantage of the commercial add-on is that, in a 141 program, it doesn’t take that many more hours than a private add-on, and there is no written test requirement. For the checkride, some items in the practical test standards are not required such as flight planning and weather, because it’s assumed a commercial pilot already knows these.

I’d been dabbling in helicopters for years. When I lived in Los Angeles 15 years ago, I took a few lessons. One was in a Robinson R22 and others were in a Hughes (now Schweizer) 269 (nee 300) with my dear friend Pete Gillies, back when Western Helicopters had its headquarters at Rialto Airport, which is now Amazon and Target distribution centers. Pete is a fantastic instructor and had me hovering the 269 in minutes, and over the years he encouraged me to go the full distance and get my license.

So there I was on May 31, taking a demo flight at Pureflight in the French Guimbal Cabri G2. I had seen the Cabri at Heli-Expo over the years and thought it looked like an interesting machine. It shares the clockwise rotor blade rotation of typical European helicopters and the Fenestron shrouded tail rotor of some Airbus Helicopters designs. As I understand, the Cabri’s electronic pilot monitor (EPM) and multiple limit indicator (MLI) are sort of the piston-engine helicopter equivalent of the Airbus vehicle engine multifunction display and first limit indicator. This convinced me that the Cabri would be a good introduction to eventually flying larger helicopters, which I hope to do after earning my commercial. In fact, Hélicoptères Guimbal calls the Cabri “the little big helicopter.”

Former Aérospatiale engineer Bruno Guimbal is the chief designer of the Cabri and founder of Hélicoptères Guimbal, and he has a particular focus on crash-worthiness and safety, especially in the use of the helicopter for training. The name Cabri is an acronym for “comfort in autorotation better with rotor inertia,” and this fits well with Guimbal’s philosophy. The Cabri is a robust, forgiving, and elegantly designed helicopter.

With two seats comfortably spaced, the Cabri features a three-blade, fully articulated rotor system, the Fenestron tail rotor with injected plastic blades, a 180-hp Lycoming O-360 piston engine flat-rated to 145 hp, carbon-fiber honeycomb composite airframe and composite main rotor blades, and crash-resistant fuel tank. The Cabri has a maximum cruise speed of 100 knots, but we normally cruised at a more efficient 80 knots. In-ground-effect hover is 5,000 feet at the maximum gross weight of 1,540 pounds. Fuel capacity is 44.9 gallons. Instead of dual magnetos, the Cabri has one traditional magneto and one electronic ignition system with battery backup. An engine governor is standard, as is a two-axis electric trim on the cyclic. Carburetor heat is automatic, and there is a gauge on the EPM that shows carb temperature.

A unique design choice on the Cabri illustrates Bruno Guimbal’s engineering skills. A piston-engine helicopter needs a way to tension the main drive belt, which connects the engine to the main transmission. Most piston helicopter designers use a big actuator that pushes an idler pulley against the belt, and this imposes great loads on the pulley, which must be checked frequently for wear. Guimbal decided on an unconventional design and asked Lycoming to build a special version of the O-360 engine with only two engine mounts at the top rear of the engine. The engine swings slightly on the two mounts, and the weight of the engine tensions the drive belt, with a much smaller oil pressure-driven actuator holding it in place. 

Lessons Begin

My first formal lesson was on June 26, 2023. Pureflight’s Part 141 program requires a minimum of 32.5 hours of dual instruction and is well laid out so I could see what each lesson entailed and monitor my progress with Flight Schedule Pro. My instructor was Curtis Wilber, a young pilot who had done all of his training at Pureflight through CFII in helicopters. He was also undergoing further training, backward from my fixed-wing to rotorcraft, and working on his fixed-wing private.

After showing me the fairly detailed Cabri preflight inspection routine, Wilber had me liftoff, hover, hover taxi, then fly in the traffic pattern at Chehalem Airpark and do some touchdowns. I felt like I could hover more or less in the same spot, thanks to the earlier flights with Pete Gillies, but making the Cabri do exactly what I wanted, especially when near the ground, was challenging.

During subsequent lessons, interspersed with ground school, I learned to use the trim to keep the cyclic, which controls pitch and bank, in the right position. And, I was getting used to manipulating the collective to add or reduce power in concert with the cyclic to give me the result I wanted: a 50-knot climb, descending while slowing down, straight-and-level cruise at 80 knots, and a stable hover.

As the warm summer progressed, we continued flying a few days a week. Wilber went over the lessons in aerodynamics and other rotorcraft-related topics during ground school sessions, but as I was to learn later, I should have been more diligent in taking notes in class. He also recommended the excellent YouTube channel, Helicopter Lessons In 10 Minutes or Less, a series of easy-to-understand explanations of helicopter aerodynamics by an Apache pilot and instructor who only goes by his first name, Jacob. 

Each lesson progressed to more challenging maneuvers, from shallow approaches to gusty and hot conditions with the doors off, thankfully, and what seemed like endless traffic patterns and approaches, both at Chehalem and nearby Sportsman Airpark and McMinnville Municipal. With the doors off, I had added information from the feel of the air and the sound to tell me whether or not I had the helicopter trimmed correctly in yaw.

Putting It Together

For me, the most challenging aspect of helicopter flying was not only trying to forget fixed-wing habits but also fully adopting the mindset needed to truly engage with the helicopter. This may sound woo-woo, but controlling a helicopter is all about letting go. Pete Gillies had discussed this many years ago, and he was right. When the helicopter starts to feel like it’s getting out of hand, you have to stop moving the controls and let the machine settle down. You are not going to harness it by overcontrolling, and the more you overcontrol, the worse it gets. This is especially true close to the ground.

I’ve tried explaining this to people who have asked what is the hardest part of helicopter flying, but I’m not sure I’ve been able to capture the exact feeling. Slight movements of the controls can have big results, and it’s critical to move the controls only as much as needed. But what surprised me, and took me a while to figure out, is how much the feel of flying is involved in rotorcraft.

The best way I can think to describe this is when approaching a landing spot. In an airplane, it’s simply a matter of setting pitch and power and trimming the airplane to descend at a reasonable rate until just over the runway. In a helicopter, you not only have to descend at an appropriate rate but slow down at the same time. The result should be that you end up close to the ground in a hover after flying a good-looking, not-too-steep, and not-too-shallow approach. A big part of this is the feel of the machine and the sound, but most important are the sight cues that tell you whether or not you’re on the right track. Much of helicopter flying involves this kind of multi-element change of state, and maybe that’s why most helicopter pilots rely on visual cues and have a tough time when getting into instrument meteorological conditions. I do know that the lack of feel in a helicopter simulator does make flying them much harder. Talented helicopter pilots seem to have this feel as a natural part of their flying. All of this, of course, takes time to develop.

Progress and Plateaus

As with any flight training activity, progress is followed by lessons where things just don’t seem to come together. I had a great experience the first time Wilber had me land on a sandbar in the Willamette River, first circling overhead and running through the confined-area checklist (surface, wind, entry, exit, problems—people, powerlines, products on the ground) while doing a high- then low-recon. It was enormously satisfying, although intimidating, to touch down on the sandbar after flying a decent approach, and we did this a few times.

Flying the helicopter, lifting off, transitioning to forward flight, cruising, approaching, and landing all worked out pretty well. It was some of the maneuvers we had to practice where I faced some challenges.

One important maneuver is slope landings. We initially practiced these at Sportsman Airpark, putting one skid on the edge of a taxiway and lowering the other one to the lower dirt. Back at Chehalem, we did slope practice on the grassy edge next to a ditch, where we could select shallower or steeper slopes. The challenge with slopes is trying to control the helicopter precisely over the landing area and gently let it down so the upslope skid touches first, then gradually allowing the downslope skid to get lower and lower until it touches and keeping the helicopter from moving backward or forward while making sure the downslope skid doesn’t catch and cause the helicopter to flip over. This is another situation where less control is more, and it takes a lot of practice.

Another maneuver I found challenging is the hover autorotation. This simulates losing the engine at a low hover and requires quick movement of the left anti-torque pedal to counter the almost-instant yaw to the right then waiting a moment before gradually raising the collective to cushion the touchdown. Done properly, the hover auto looks easy and smooth. My first attempts were anything but.

We’re taught at Pureflight that the student does the throttle closing to simulate the loss of the engine. This is difficult because to close the throttle all the way, you have to curl your hand under the twist-grip throttle on the end of the collective and give it a good hard turn all the way to idle. Meanwhile, your brain is thinking, “Gotta get ready to step on the left pedal,” “Don’t move the collective while chopping the throttle,” and “Get ready to pull up—not down—on the collective, but give it a second; otherwise you’ll run out of energy and land hard.”

So yes, my first attempt was ugly. I kept the Cabri more or less straight but either didn’t pull up on the collective or actually pushed down, and we hit the ground with a substantial thump. I may have video, which I don’t plan on sharing—at least until the statute of limitations runs out. But the Cabri is built tough, and there was no damage to the helicopter. Subsequent efforts turned out better, but every time it seemed like a crapshoot and I never got super comfortable with that maneuver.

The big daddy of helicopter maneuvers is, of course, the autorotation, which gets practiced a lot. In the Cabri, we fly an extended downwind leg, base, and final at 500 feet agl and the typical 80-knot cruise speed. At the right spot on final, fairly close to the intended touchdown/stopping point (we did not do full-down autorotations all the way to the ground), I would do the following: collective all the way down, fairly quickly but not jamming it down; twist the throttle off; pull the cyclic back to slow to 50 knots; try to remember to look at the rotor rpm, which likely is speeding up, and pull a tiny bit of collective to slow it down; make sure I’m headed in the right direction; twist the throttle back up until the governor takes over; check speed and rotor rpm; as we neared tree height, pull the cyclic back and slow the helicopter down to almost a walking pace; push the cyclic forward to level off; pull collective and keep straight with the pedals; and establish a stable hover.

For the first few times when I reached the point where I had to pull the nose up with the cyclic to slow down, I didn’t pull back enough. It’s a fairly aggressive maneuver with a big change from nose down to nose up and back to level, all happening quickly. For a fixed-wing pilot, it was radical.

We did lots of autorotations, and I found that it was difficult to carve the procedure into muscle memory because things happened so fast. This was a recurring theme in helicopter training, in fact, and I tried to figure out a way to overcome this frequent feeling of being behind the curve.

Other maneuvers that were added to the list included settling with power, stuck tail rotor, turning autorotations (which I liked because you get more time), steep approaches, running landings, max performance takeoffs, and quick stops. The latter is good practice for autorotations because you experience a similar change in attitude closer to the ground, pulling the nose up to slow down after climbing to 40 feet on takeoff, but without the simulated engine failure.

The Phase Check

Being a Part 141 school, Pureflight requires two-phase checks during the commercial add-on rating program. Presumably, the idea is to assess progress, but in my case, I ended up with some valuable insights that helped me improve and get more from my training.

Bottom line, I wasn’t well prepared for the first phase check, and it wasn’t my instructor’s fault. He made sure I had all the information I needed, from ground school and flight lessons, but I hadn’t been taking notes and I didn’t really take the upcoming phase check seriously.

My first clue that I wasn’t prepared was during the phase check ground session when instructor Brandon Marsteller asked me some pointed aerodynamics and Cabri systems questions that I couldn’t answer. He showed me some simple diagrams that he likes to use, and this helped me realize that I needed not only to study more but also to figure out a way to explain these concepts.

During the flight with Marsteller, he promptly isolated my weak areas, again helping me figure out where I needed to focus my efforts, thus showing the benefits of the stage check process. Most of my flying was good, but he didn’t like my slope landings much, nor my steep approach. I realized afterward that with some maneuvers, I was reverting to fixed-wing habits, and I needed to buckle down and follow the guidance in Pureflight’s well-laid-out maneuver manual.

During the steep approach, for example, I came in hot and fast, which is a perfect setup for loss of tail rotor effectiveness in certain conditions and configurations (although the Cabri is highly resistant to this constraint). A steep approach should be a slow maneuver with a rate of descent below 300 fpm, not something where you scream down to the landing spot and suddenly slow down. Unless you’re a show-off. And stupid.

So the upshot is that Marsteller helped me figure out that I needed more work on my processes to make this a successful experience. Soon after the phase check, I got a fresh notebook and I wrote down a clear description of all the aerodynamic concepts along with drawings, and the same with all the normal maneuvers and emergency procedures. I also practiced verbally explaining the aerodynamics and drawing the pictures, and occasionally, when running into an instructor at Pureflight, I would ask them to ask me an aerodynamics question. I hope I wasn’t too annoying, but it helped me nail these concepts down.

It was around this time that I finally figured out how to land more smoothly. My problem was that, as soon as I got the helicopter near the ground during landing, it would start to get squirrely and I would end up climbing higher and then trying again. Wilber helped me learn to be more firm during landing and just put the helicopter down; the more you sit there and futz around, the more the helicopter starts moving around and becomes difficult to land. I also watched some of the other students and instructors landing, and this helped me realize that a tiny bit of forward motion while setting down helps smooth out the process.

The Fun Stuff

Although we continued going over the basic maneuvers, autorotations, hover autos, slope landings, and emergency procedures, after the first phase check we started into more fun activities, and I got to expand my experience of the Cabri’s capabilities.

While helicopters are amazing machines, they—like any aircraft—have limitations. With two on board, for example, we couldn’t fly with full fuel. But that wasn’t a problem given that most lessons were an hour or maybe a little more. Helicopters can operate vertically, but within limits, and they aren’t as magical as they might appear to the general public. We practiced vertical takeoffs, for example, but piston helicopters can’t deliver enough power to go straight up for long, and once in the air, it’s quickly time to transition to forward flight. On a hot day, naturally, this happens sooner, and I’m told there are some days where, at a higher altitude—like at Pureflight’s Klamath Falls, Oregon base—pilots sometimes have to scooch the Cabri off the tarmac with a little bit of scraping of the skids as it builds up enough speed to lift off.

After a flight to McMinnville, Oregon, Wilber steered me towards the Yamhill River on the way back to Chehalem. He pointed out a narrow, moss-encrusted concrete structure in the middle of the river and said we’d land on it. I flew some recon circles over the structure, which was remnants of the former Yamhill Locks, and wondered whether we would have enough room to avoid the trees on either side of the river and if the abandoned lock was wide enough to land on. We didn’t try that day because there were some people nearby that added too much risk.

Another memorable occasion was my first night helicopter flight when we followed roads to downtown Portland and did three takeoffs and landings at the Portland Downtown Heliport on top of the six-story Naito and Davis parking garage. Wilber instructed me to hug the left bank of the Willamette River and start descending after crossing the Morrison Bridge, then hang a left at the iconic White Stag sign right after the Burnside Bridge, and suddenly we could see the lights of the heliport. The bright city lights made it hard to see, and this approach lined us up perfectly.

To fulfill the commercial night requirement, we flew to Seattle’s Boeing Field late one night, and this was a good example of how much helicopter performance is affected by the wind. We had 20- to 30-knot headwinds flying north but managed to carry enough fuel to land with the required reserve. Flying into a busy terminal and landing at the FBO ramp was a new experience but confidence-building. The return flight was faster, although naturally, the winds had died down. After departure, we stayed low and flew circles around the Space Needle, then headed back south.

During another of the final lessons, as I suspected would happen, Wilber directed me toward the Yamhill Locks, and this time the recon showed that all was clear for landing. I studied the area, picked my entry and exit, looked for any problems, and started descending and slowing down for the touchdown point on the abandoned mossy lock. From the air, it looked way too narrow, but once we got close, there was plenty of space for the Cabri’s skids. Everything was feeling just right, the Cabri responded to my cautious but confident inputs, the speed and altitude diminished in the right proportions, and I made a gentle touchdown. After relaxing for a minute, I lifted into a hover then took off and climbed out above the colorful autumn-tinged trees along the river.

Checkride Time

Wilber was right on top of the challenge of scheduling a designated pilot examiner (DPE) for the checkride, which has become difficult, and he managed to snag a slot just six days after my final lesson and four days after my final phase check.

To prepare for the checkride, I went over and over the aerodynamics explanations and drawings and the Cabri’s systems, especially the EPM and MLI, which are important to understand. I also studied the emergency procedures and all the maneuvers.

I don’t know if any pilot likes facing a checkride, and as usual, I was apprehensive and trying not to be over-confident. The weather was perfect the day of the checkride and ultimately, as has been my experience with every checkride I’ve taken, the DPE was fair. Not all my maneuvers were perfect but were within the applicable standards. I think that DPEs are primarily looking not only at the standards but also at a candidate’s attitude about safety, and this was apparent in my case.

By the time I was done, I had logged 37.3 hours. My only complaint about the program in general, and this isn’t about the school, is the lack of good simulators for this level of training. There are a lot of emergencies that we simply can’t practice in a light training helicopter without adding too much risk, and a simulator would make this so much better.

Learning to fly a helicopter was more than just being able to hover, and I’m glad I went through the time and expense of getting the commercial ticket. It is opening new doors for more flying opportunities and bringing me closer to the amazing people who operate these incredible machines.