Don Bateman: The Whoop Whoop Guy
#1
Don Bateman: The Whoop Whoop Guy
Business & Technology | Redmond aviation engineer's lifelong work has saved thousands of lives | Seattle Times Newspaper
A small King Air turboprop took off last month into a sunny sky from Boeing Field, swung west, and sped straight toward the Olympic Mountains at more than 200 mph. On the electronic map display in front of the pilot, a block of red warned that the plane was on course to slam into the twin peaks called The Brothers.
About 3.5 miles out from the snow-covered rock face, a red light flashed on the instrument panel and a recorded voice squawked loudly from a speaker.
"Caution — Terrain. Caution — Terrain."
The pilot ignored it. Just a minute away from hitting the peaks, he held a steady course.
Ten seconds later, the system erupted again, repeating the warning in a more urgent voice.
The pilot still flew on. Snow and rock loomed straight ahead.
Suddenly the loud command became insistent.
"Terrain. Pull up! Pull up! Pull up! Pull up! Pull up!"
Finally, the pilot calmly pulled the nose up. As the plane skimmed safely over the peaks, the instruments fell silent.
You can thank Redmond engineer Don Bateman for this lifesaving technology.
A small King Air turboprop took off last month into a sunny sky from Boeing Field, swung west, and sped straight toward the Olympic Mountains at more than 200 mph. On the electronic map display in front of the pilot, a block of red warned that the plane was on course to slam into the twin peaks called The Brothers.
About 3.5 miles out from the snow-covered rock face, a red light flashed on the instrument panel and a recorded voice squawked loudly from a speaker.
"Caution — Terrain. Caution — Terrain."
The pilot ignored it. Just a minute away from hitting the peaks, he held a steady course.
Ten seconds later, the system erupted again, repeating the warning in a more urgent voice.
The pilot still flew on. Snow and rock loomed straight ahead.
Suddenly the loud command became insistent.
"Terrain. Pull up! Pull up! Pull up! Pull up! Pull up!"
Finally, the pilot calmly pulled the nose up. As the plane skimmed safely over the peaks, the instruments fell silent.
You can thank Redmond engineer Don Bateman for this lifesaving technology.
#3
Line Holder
Joined APC: Apr 2007
Position: GA pilot
Posts: 38
Sad News
Flight Safety Foundation's CEO stated: "It is accepted within the industry that Don Bateman has probably saved more lives than any single person in the history of aviation."
Don Bateman, inventor of the GPWS and dedicating all his life to aviation safety, passed away on Sunday (May 21st 2023) aged 91. Don began working as electrical engineer with Sunstrand Corporation, which later became Honeywell, and pioneered the Ground Proximity Warning System in the late 1960s (the related patent was granted in 1976) subsequently improving the system into EGPWS as well as other innovative and cost effective avionics devices.
Don Bateman, inventor of the GPWS and dedicating all his life to aviation safety, passed away on Sunday (May 21st 2023) aged 91. Don began working as electrical engineer with Sunstrand Corporation, which later became Honeywell, and pioneered the Ground Proximity Warning System in the late 1960s (the related patent was granted in 1976) subsequently improving the system into EGPWS as well as other innovative and cost effective avionics devices.
#4
Gets Weekends Off
Joined APC: Jul 2017
Posts: 1,349
Business & Technology | Redmond aviation engineer's lifelong work has saved thousands of lives | Seattle Times Newspaper
A small King Air turboprop took off last month into a sunny sky from Boeing Field, swung west, and sped straight toward the Olympic Mountains at more than 200 mph. On the electronic map display in front of the pilot, a block of red warned that the plane was on course to slam into the twin peaks called The Brothers.
About 3.5 miles out from the snow-covered rock face, a red light flashed on the instrument panel and a recorded voice squawked loudly from a speaker.
"Caution — Terrain. Caution — Terrain."
The pilot ignored it. Just a minute away from hitting the peaks, he held a steady course.
Ten seconds later, the system erupted again, repeating the warning in a more urgent voice.
The pilot still flew on. Snow and rock loomed straight ahead.
Suddenly the loud command became insistent.
"Terrain. Pull up! Pull up! Pull up! Pull up! Pull up!"
Finally, the pilot calmly pulled the nose up. As the plane skimmed safely over the peaks, the instruments fell silent.
You can thank Redmond engineer Don Bateman for this lifesaving technology.
A small King Air turboprop took off last month into a sunny sky from Boeing Field, swung west, and sped straight toward the Olympic Mountains at more than 200 mph. On the electronic map display in front of the pilot, a block of red warned that the plane was on course to slam into the twin peaks called The Brothers.
About 3.5 miles out from the snow-covered rock face, a red light flashed on the instrument panel and a recorded voice squawked loudly from a speaker.
"Caution — Terrain. Caution — Terrain."
The pilot ignored it. Just a minute away from hitting the peaks, he held a steady course.
Ten seconds later, the system erupted again, repeating the warning in a more urgent voice.
The pilot still flew on. Snow and rock loomed straight ahead.
Suddenly the loud command became insistent.
"Terrain. Pull up! Pull up! Pull up! Pull up! Pull up!"
Finally, the pilot calmly pulled the nose up. As the plane skimmed safely over the peaks, the instruments fell silent.
You can thank Redmond engineer Don Bateman for this lifesaving technology.