Weekly Checkup

This weekly flight schedule is getting pretty old. I wish I could be back up to twice a week, but I think I'm not likely to see that for a while. The weather is just too spotty (as if it was winter or something). Nevertheless, the clouds parted just long enough to get a good flight in today. I was prepared to solo and practice my maneuvers for an hour or so, but was able to snag an instructor to go up with me to get more prepared for the checkride.

Today was calm on the surface, with a moderate wind aloft and about 7 to 8000 feet to the ceiling. It was a balmy 25 degrees, with only a few degrees to the dew point, but the air was fairly dry and the only symptoms of poor weather were some scattered snow showers to the north.

It was really just a grab-bag of maneuvers today, and I had never flown with this particular instructor before. We did a soft-field takeoff and turned away from the field, then I donned the hood for some brief climbs and turns to headings. That went smoothly enough, and compared to my typical half-hour practice sessions, the 15 or so minutes went by pretty quickly.

Then we did our clearing turns and set up for some steep turns. I almost told the instructor that this was one of my weak points, but figured I'd better just get on with it and not give voice to what really isn't all that bad. Indeed, I heeded my instructor's advice from last time to enter the turn very smoothly. You don't need to snap the wings over to 45 degrees, just get there about the time you've turned nearly 90 degrees from the original heading. So, with that, the first turn to the left came out very well. The turn to the right ballooned a bit, but I kept it under control and didn't bust the 100-foot deviation limit.

Then we slowed down for some minimum-controllable airspeed exercises. About the biggest problem I have with these is getting the speed down in a reasonable amount of time. Rather than setting power where you want it, you really need to reduce it even more and then add a bit as the speed decays. The DA-20 is just too slippery to do it in a timely manner any other way. Unfortunately, I still don't have all the pitch/power/airspeed combinations memorized, so I just target the speed that I want and fiddle with the power until the vertical speed is stabilized. This works pretty well, since there's only a range of a few hundred RPM between different configurations, so I can get close on the first try.

We kept up with the slow flight and added power-off stalls. I did these well, but the instructor pointed out a little flaw (and one that I have never been taught). My typical profile is to reduce power, drop flaps, drop more flaps, and then add a bit of power to maintain altitude. I've been instructed to keep the altitude pegged from the start of the maneuver until the stall. Supposedly, this is not what the examiner wants. (I don't know if this is universal, or some kind of personal preference on the part of the individual examiners.) What he wants is for the plane to be in a descent more like a typical landing profile, then pull back and induce the stall. It's a fairly trivial difference, but it's good to know that might be expected. At least I will know enough to ask during the checkride.

After the slow stuff, we went back to fast, for some power-on stalls. I was a bit over-enthusiastic about these apparently, and forgot to configure for takeoff (as the exercise is supposed to mimic a stall during departure). I went ahead and pushed the throttle in, and we rocketed up 1000 feet, as I realized what I had done. I almost got it to stall, but it was better to level it out and try again. Done properly, it worked out just right.

The added altitude generated by my little space-flight imitation was a nice setup for my next trick - a simulated engine failure, complete with an actual touchdown at the nearby uncontrolled field. This was to be my second engine-out landing, and this one was different in that I was just over 4000 feet above the ground, and about 4 miles from the field (which I could not see from the left seat at the time of the "failure"). So I went through the necessary steps of catching the best glide speed and going through the engine-failure flow check, and had plenty of time to look around. I realized then where we were, confirmed by the GPS, and made a turn toward the field. But now, I had a different problem, needing to rocket back down to earth. I have never done a spiral, and didn't know if it was appropriate, but the instructor just let me do what I felt would work, and he just sat back.

Since I had so much altitude to lose and I had a lot of other options if there really were an emergency, I decided to drop the nose and try to set up for a fairly normal descent. The actual distance from the failure to touchdown was about 9.5 miles. So, even at 1.5 times the optimum glide speed, the gradient was still nearly the optimum 11:1 given in the book. It was quite a challenge to time everything out right, and I came in a bit too fast, with only half flaps. Had it been an actual emergency, I would have dropped the flaps all the way as I was on short final (but technically a bit too fast for them). The instructor thought it would have been a good landing anyway, and I still had quite a bit of runway left, so I guess it all worked out. I even kept up the non-tower radio calls, which I probably would have left out in the real thing.

Finally, it was back to the home base to practice some more soft- and short-field landings. We had to do a 360 for spacing, but all went well, and my landings were good today. I had a bit of a bounce and float on one of them, but at least held the nose up and didn't porpoise. Hey, if even the big guys do it every once in a while, I can't be too hard on myself.

Our go-arounds don't take too long, and I did four of them. While we were doing that, there were quite a few other planes around, and there was a Horizon Air flight holding at the runway the whole time. We offered to extend our pattern so that he could get out, but the other planes coming in made it irrelevant. I knew that it wasn't our fault, but I couldn't help imagining the passengers seeing the same plane land four times while they just sat there burning fuel. Score one for the airlines blaming delays on the little guys.

Aviate - Navigate - Communicate

When I checked yesterday, the forecast for today was for cloudy and a 20% chance of snow. Ha! Don't believe it! Woke up this morning to clear, sunny skies, calm winds (on the surface anyway), and a chance to get my remaining cross-country hours in. I hesitated to call my instructor, since it was Sunday, but figured that since I wasn't asking him to go with me, maybe he wouldn't mind. It was, of course, not a problem, but we had to keep our eyes on the wind forecasts.

The winds aloft were 270 at 24, and the winds at the best-looking destination were 220 at 25, with gusts to 30. So, the main concern was turbulence from the winds and mountain waves, and the conditions at my destination, which could be too much for my solo skills. We decided to give it a go, since the winds everywhere else on the surface were calm, and I could always divert if need be. Yesterday's flying had similar winds aloft, so I knew it would be bumpy, but was also willing to take a bit of a beating (it's not like the air's ever totally smooth anyway).

So, I did a quick flight plan, did all the math for wind corrections and ground speed (using FlightPrep software, this isn't much), and got all set to go. Once I was at the airport, I took things a bit slower, to make sure I had everything in order, got the weather briefing, (with the turbulence Airmet), and did the preflight. T.I. signed off the logbook, and I was ready to go.

Today's flight involved three Class D airports, and one TRSA (Terminal Radar Service Area). Basically, this is an area of more involved radar coverage, although the basic rules for entering and communication are the same as any Class D airspace. The additional steps involved calling up approach, setting a discrete transponder code, and then entering the pattern as normal. I switched frequencies to close my flight plan before I had to contact the tower, came back to approach, and then was quickly handed off.

But before I got to that point, I needed to navigate my way over some mountains and into some pretty significant turbulence. It wasn't bad, like rough, but it was like being on a rolling sea, and there were a couple of big up- and down-drafts that sent the altimeter spinning for a few seconds. The trip out was actually better than I expected based on the wind speeds that were out there. Likely, it was due to my flying more-or-less "downstream" and riding the currents.

As I arrived at the destination field, the winds were still up, but I decided to give it a shot. The end of the runway sits on a bluff, though, and the wind currents ended up being a bit too much. My references were all off, since I had never been to this field before, and the slow speed due to the wind really threw off my timing. I touched down a bit too hard, bounced, and touched again. That was quite enough, thank you very much, and off I went. I declared my intention to turn off to the south to my next stop, but was given vectors to stay clear of a departing plane behind me (going much faster). I kept an eye on him, and when he was ahead, I was cleared to proceed on course.

The next leg was the roughest, as it was nearly straight into the wind. In fact, as I approached a mountain ridge, I decided that I didn't really want to fight it, and diverted around it. That helped a bit, but I was getting further and further off my intended course. I also got a little taste of getting lost, as I miscounted the ridges and thought I was closer than I was for a few minutes. Then I saw the GPS distance and realized I still had a way to go. It was a good exercise, though, as I had to put together the landmarks I was seeing, evaluate how much off course I would be, ensure I had enough fuel if I was going way off (plenty of gas today), and consider an alternate field if the wind just simply was too much. The GPS finally indicated about 30 knots of wind as I puttered along at only about 80 knots of groundspeed. It took forever to get around those mountains, but the light at the end of the tunnel was the ATIS that said "wind calm". If I could just get over the waves, it would get better.

I called the tower, gave a position report at about 15 miles, and was instructed to report 5 miles out. There were a few other planes around, so the controller was trying to get us all spaced right. The wind was so much as I was descending, that I was about 8 miles out when he called back to check on me. I said that I was getting there, but the wind was really socking it to me. He understood, and got a couple of the other guys in while I bobbed and weaved. Of course, as I got to the surface, the ATIS didn't lie, and I made a perfect landing. Again, I reported my intentions to depart the area back the way I came (this time with the wind) and away I went.

The last leg was mainly an effort to keep the plane on course, as the winds were much more variable -- in every direction. I would find myself drifting left and right, up and down....I'm really not this bad, am I?

I was watching the clock, but not obsessively, and I knew that the flight would be just about right for the hours that I needed, but I guess I should have paid more attention. I thought I'd throw in a touch-and-go just for good measure as I arrived back at the home base. Good thing I did. When I recorded the Hobbs meter, I found that I had exactly the time that I needed -- no more, no less.

The main lesson for today: the mountains shown on the charts don't look anything like they do in real life. You can pick out prominent peaks, especially if they have towers, but even coming back over the same ground I did on the outbound trip, everything looked different. Which road is that? Where are those powerlines? Which ridge is that? Did I pass that peak already?

But all went well, and I now have all my required hours logged. Another couple of flights with the instructor, and I'll be all set.

Tying a Knot

Today was another flight that just barely fit through a hole in the weather. The primary purpose was to finish off my hood work, but I really wanted to brush up on the steep turns. My instructor said again that they are quite difficult in the DA-20 due to its tendency to oscillate up and down if you don't enter the turn just right and with the nose at just the right attitude.

That's all nice in theory, but it's beginning to really turn into a struggle. I do all right, but it's hard to keep the bank angle, nose pitch, and power just right so as not to wallow all over the sky. I suppose that's the whole point of the exercise...

So after some re-do of unusual attitudes, VOR navigation, and constant rate climbs and descents under the hood, we did a whole mess of steep turns, which truly must have looked from the ground like a literal aerobatic show. Nevertheless, by the end, I had a better feel for them, and with a few more tries, it shouldn't be a problem. At least I know what to focus on....

Then we did some pattern work, with some soft- and short-field landings. Since I had asked about power-off landings a while back, we decided to try one today...just like the commercial maneuver. We went to idle just abeam of the numbers, and I turned in just a bit closer than I usually do. I haven't practiced any of this, so I had to kind of guess at when to deploy the flaps. We were aiming for the 1000-foot mark on the runway. T.I. gave it just a touch of throttle as we were about 200 feet above the ground on final, but overall, I made a decent landing (and spot on at the mark). And that was even with a bit of float. Of course...there was no surface wind today, so I still wouldn't want to try a real-world version of this quite yet....but it was good to see that I could probably pull it off in an emergency...and it was also good to try something a bit different than the regular stuff.

With the hood work hurdle out of the way, I just need the weather to hold off long enough to get another long cross-country done. But so much for having it all done by the end of the year. My instructor wants to do at least one mock checkride (and maybe two) before the real thing, and unless the holidays and the weather somehow align between now and then, it probably won't quite get done. The only way to do it would be to be ready to fly on a moment's notice if the weather clears up. But then there's that job thing....

Not So Fast

A few weeks ago, my instructor said that things would happen quite fast as I neared the end of my flight training. The reason for this is that the cross-country trips tend to pile the hours on much faster than the 90-minute lessons that are more common in the beginning. While this is true in theory, and makes logical sense, the weather becomes a significant factor this time of year.

So, while I probably could have had my certificate by now if I'd started a month earlier, I struggle to find a decent sized hole in the weather and the work schedule -- big enough for another cross-country and a block of time for a checkride. So, when the sun broke through earlier this week, it was a target of opportunity. I took a long lunch and went up for a quick flight to tighten up my maneuvers.

It was a short trip, only 0.9 hours, but enough to keep things fresh. I focused on sticking right at my target altitude through some ground reference and steep turns, and then came back for a couple of touch-and-gos. I wanted to keep my transitions nice and crisp, with smooth turns, climbs, and descents. Overall, it went well, but my steep turns still need work. Well, it's always something.

Just a Test

Definitely no graphical portion to go along with this post. Simply another hurdle passed as I took my knowledge (written) test yesterday.

Of all the required tasks for the pilot's certificate, the written test should be, by far, the easiest. Since all of the questions are public, there shouldn't be any surprises, right? Well, even with the Sporty's practice tests there are still too many questions to be able to see them all. So, of course, there were a few I hadn't seen before.

Most of my strikes were on airspace and even one classified under instrument procedures (I don't know how that one sneaked in). But in the end, I got an 87, so I passed, and I can work on the deficiencies before my checkride.

The weather simply has not cooperated lately, and another week has gone by...soon, very soon....

Bad Attitudes

Today was to be another "wild card" with much of the lesson dependent on what the weather did. As it turned out, the forecast was pretty much on, but the predicted snow appeared to be moving in just a bit faster than expected. And since my recent flying schedule has been on the ragged edge of the weather (finding a narrow window of good weather here and there), a little bit makes a big difference. So what was to be a couple of hours in the sky had to be cut short. But that really wasn't a big deal; it just means I need one more flight to finish off the hood work.

Overall, I'm rapidly approaching the checkride, and due to my expressed interest in an instrument rating, we did a bit of hood work that went beyond the standard PTS topics. We did some more slow flight and stalls, VOR tracking, and miscellaneous multi-tasking, but we also did some timed turns (using rule-of-thumb true airspeed calculations) and did some more aggressive unusual attitude recoveries.

It was this latter exercise that nearly turned my stomach. We have typically done maneuvers that were also found in other exercises: power-on stalls, turning stalls, and the random ups, downs, and power settings that can be found in inadvertent flight into clouds. This time (without my prior knowledge), the instructor took us to the edge of aerobatic flight, with near-60 degree banks and near 25-degree pitch up and down. Still well within the limits of the plane, I could definitely tell we were pulling more G's, but as the books all say, you can't trust your inner ear. He would jink one way, then enter a full bank the other way, adjust the power in the middle. By the time I would look up, we weren't how I felt we would be, and the attitude indicator was in a place I haven't seen before.
Even with all that, it was a fun flight, and I was able to handle the recoveries with only one glaring error: I would forget to put my feet back on the rudder pedals on a couple (I'm sure it had something to do with my concentration on not getting sick....) Although I was too busy to notice, T.I. said that we had some light negative-G moments at the top of one of these, too.

At the end, we did a couple more VFR steep turns, which I did much better than last time. I asked whether the checkride would include steep turns under the hood. The answer was that technically, it could, but no one had heard of any instances where this had occurred. So as long as I can keep things upright with the visual horizon, I should be all right.

My last required hours are another half-hour of hood time and another 2.5 hours or so of solo cross country. I will see if I can get the written test done next week as well... Not too much longer...

Back from Holiday

All the wrong combinations of work, weather, holiday, and travel led to a two-week hiatus. Needed to get flying again, but also needing cross-country and some hood time, I was going to just go up and do some maneuvers to stay in the game. It was supposed to just be some nice, easy flying to keep the skills fresh. Unfortunately, the weather didn't clear up quite as much as it was supposed to, and the winds were up in the 15-knot range...too much for solo work. But, of course, a pilot's luck is a valuable thing.

The only reason I was planning on solo was that the instructor was all booked up for today. The maintenance gods had different intentions, and three of the planes (but not mine) were down for service of one sort or another. One was a DA-40 with some kind of stress crack in a virtually brand new prop. The pieces fell into place such that my instructor was then free to do some dual hood work, which is exactly what I need.

So, with a brisk 32-degree, 15-knot wind, I pre-flighted(flew?) the plane and off we went. The surface winds weren't even as strong as the winds aloft, and we had a huge crab angle on climbout (and just as large coming back for landing, which really messed up my turns.) Under the hood I went, and we did some VOR tracking and slow flight, which I did all right on, but I think the two weeks off took its toll. I was not quite with the plane, and I had to spend some extra moments just keeping the plane on course and at the right altitude. Then, we did some steep turns, which really turned into a roller coaster. My instructor said its one of the hardest maneuvers in the DA-20, but I was still all over the sky.

The hardest part was keeping the pitch just right. Too much and the plane slows down and starts a climb. Too little, and the nose drops like a rock and the airspeed gets way into the yellow. And if you go into it wrong, it just gets worse as the plane oscillates between a diving spiral and a climbing not-quite stall. So, I was at least able to hold it together and keep the banks steep, and I was able to come out on the right heading, but I definitely wasn't in the zone. We did quite a few of these and then did a couple "VFR" on the way in. Those were much better.

Finally, we came in for some nice crosswind pattern work. This was actually fairly straightforward, except for some pretty wonky turns in the strong winds. I did one with half-flaps and three with full. I also practiced transitioning into a slip at about a 1/4 mile final (which is what my night instructor had me do). I actually like doing it that way, and it doesn't seem too weird, although I've read that uninitiated passengers get a bit ill from long sideslips.

Of course, there's always a gremlin...

Upon shutting down and getting all my things, I reached to shut off my GPS (which, up until now, has logged each of my flights). Somehow, it failed to ever lock on to the satellites, and I didn't get a track this time. Oh well. I would have liked to have seen my turns and pattern work, but I guess it will just have to go into the mental vault.

YOYO (You're On Your Own)

The volatile mix of work and weather allowed a narrow window of opportunity. During the winter, dedicated skiers who have understanding workplaces watch for the perfect powder days. When the conditions are right and work can stand to wait a day, it's on. Flying is much the same way these days. Pilot's can become quite the weather-watchers, and when a narrow ridge of cold, high pressure comes to roost for an afternoon, sometimes you just need to go. An extra bonus is when other students cancel their appointments because the forecast says clouds, but they turn out to be nothing (or at least are delayed by a few hours). The end result is an opportunity for a solo cross country flight.

I've had a flight plan sitting in my bag, just waiting for the right day. Today, my instructor was flying all day, but I still needed him to review the plan with the current weather and time of day in mind. I managed to catch him just at the right time, and I was cleared to go, sort of. My original plan was for about a 2.5 hour round trip, but the day was getting on, and we were concerned about getting back after dark. Luckily, there is another field just close enough to meet the distance requirements and still return just barely by sundown. T.I. is comfortable with my abilities, and I am comfortable with the weather, although there were about 20 knots blowing aloft, so I was expecting a few bumps.

In any case, the "go" was decided, and I was off. These first cross-country flights highlight the concept of the best laid plans going awry. Primarily, it is a space problem. As before, I have the chart, navigation logs, airport diagrams, and miscellaneous other documents all neatly organized in a clipboard. In an ideal situation, as the flight progresses, I will note times as I pass checkpoints, and monitor my speed and fuel. However, this is a handful as I am trying to fly the airplane, especially in the spots of turbulence. It really is not too much different than trying to write while driving. The GPS, as much as I hate to use it as a crutch, really saves the day.

I was still able to keep the chart open and monitor it, while changing radio frequencies and fiddling with the VOR receiver. But that was about the extent of it. Overall, since I am familiar with the terrain and the towns I was flying over, this was not a problem. It will be interesting to venture over places I have not been before. This time, at least, I concentrated on holding course and altitude, configuring for climbs, cruise, and descents, watching outside, and just feeling comfortable with the plane.

So, aside from the brief intervals of turbulence (mostly on the return trip), the flight was a success. I did a touch-and-go at the half-way point (in gusty winds), a full stop landing and a "real" short-field takeoff at the destination, then fought the headwinds and made it back almost exactly on schedule, with the sun going down and the field lights coming on. Not "night", but it made for a nice return landing at dusk. Although the last landing suffered a bit from a stiff crosswind that petered out about 50 feet above the ground, so I wallowed a bit getting it down straight, but it all worked out.

The total length of the flight was about 230 miles, done in about 2 hours, 10 minutes. Not bad for a first solo cross-country, but it was easy to identify things that I should have been keeping better track of. One is to scan the engine instruments a bit more often, and the other is to watch for emergency landing sites a bit more often. One reason for that was my familiarity with the area and the wind that could have easily carried me over 10 miles from 5,000 feet above the ground. Again, it was good that I was at least conscious of this, and the flight was a good stepping stone to more unfamiliar areas.

Loose Ends

Today was not originally scheduled as a flying day, but the weather this week is not supposed to be all that great. Since it turned into a sunny afternoon and there was a plane free for an hour, I took the opportunity to fly some pattern work and try to clean up my soft- and short-field takeoffs and landings.

I flew 10 approaches, with mixed results. I did a couple on the short crosswind runway, too, just to force the tighter tolerances. Since I have the majority of the required hours, my remaining work is solo cross-country and a bit of hood-work. Anything else is whatever I feel needs more refinement, which tends to be my landings.

Today, though, I was also getting a better mental picture of the airplane's movements through the air. The important thing is to "stay ahead of the airplane" and be able to anticipate what is going to happen next. This is done through a combination of watching the instruments, looking outside, listening to the wind and engine, and feeling the motion of the plane and the responsiveness of the controls. Early on, a lot of this is done by constantly cross-checking the airspeed indicator and the vertical speed indicator while watching the plane descend for landing. Today, I felt that I had to look at them less, while depending on the "muscle memory" of holding the right control pressures at the right times. This meant that I could spend a few extra seconds looking outside and judging my glide visually. It was an important shift toward trusting the plane to do what I've asked it to do and allowing it to continue with minimal prompting.

All was not perfect, however. As I made the first touch-and-go from the crosswind runway, I was busy watching my pattern and making the turns at different locations. This meant that I neglected to raise the flaps during the climbout. At the typical pattern speed and the amount of time between the climb, level off, and descent, there wasn't quite enough time to notice that my airspeed didn't quite get up to what it should have. So when it came time to lower the flaps again, I did so without looking, and ended up putting in full flaps too early. It took a few seconds to figure out why my speed and power settings didn't agree, but once I did, I managed to get the plane configured properly. Unfortunately, the turn toward the runway suffered a bit while I was doing this, and I came in a bit too steep. Since this short runway doesn't leave much for error, I touched down, but had to quickly get it back up into the air. Not pretty, but not a terrible go-around either. Although it was intended to be a touch-and-go, it would have really been better described as an aborted landing.

I should add also, that this incident did not go unnoticed. Coincidentally, a coworker who is also a pilot happened to be driving along the freeway under the pattern as I was performing this display. He mentioned the next day that he saw one of my school's "plastic airplanes" motoring around the pattern with full flaps in... So I 'fessed up that it was, indeed, yours truly. We had a good laugh...the dirty rat.

Coming up will be the solo cross-country, as soon as the weather allows.

Real-time Weather Decisions

The internet is really a great tool for aviation, especially when it comes to weather forecasting and trip decisions. Although pilots are required to have a complete outline of the trip (and one of the best ways is through 1-800-WX-BRIEF), it's always a good idea to bone up on the current and forecast weather before giving the briefer a call. That way, you know ahead of time what they should be telling you and it is easier to listen to the specific details without trying to picture it in your head.

Today, I had a bit of information that, somehow, the briefer did not. Inexplicably, as I was looking at the current field weather on my computer screen, the briefer's system indicated "no information". And my source was the automated weather directly from the airport. I don't know where Lockheed-Martin gets its data, but it had better get with the program.

Not that it would have made much difference. The intended flight was a 250 mile night round trip that would have skirted right along a cold front in winds of 30 to 40 knots. The forecast was literally changing hourly, since no one could seem to get a handle on where the front would move and how fast. Rather than push the envelope, we opted for a bit shorter flight along the same route that I flew just two days ago. With it being night, this was fine with me, but I didn't have any flight plan made up for the trip. So we "winged it" as it were, and used VOR and GPS navigation to make the run.

It was still windy, but not as bad in the direction we were going -- only about 25 knots or so. So we made terrible time on the outbound leg, but definitely made it back on the return. And with some mountain waves of turbulence thrown in for good measure, it was challenging to remain on course and at altitude.

We arrived at the destination, and did some touch-and-gos. Two were on the big runway, and two on a smaller crosswind runway. The lesson was aimed at forcing me to maintain the proper glidepath (at night and without the VASI). I still come it a bit too high and with too much power, but again, I managed smooth landings. The shorter, narrower runway forces much of the sloppiness out of the approach, since if you don't have it right on, you won't have enough room.

After a few of those, we went back up for the return trip. Again, fairly uneventful, and a bit more turbulent, since we were 1000 feet lower, but manageable. The arrival at the home base was also a bit of work, since we had a pretty good crosswind. I had nearly full rudder in to compensate. As we touched down, I had to let it go and give opposite rudder as the wind went away and the controls lost effectiveness. I had a bit of a swerve, but it was still a decent landing.

Even with all that, it's only about half of the night cross-country hours that I need, so I'll hopefully have another soon. Maybe next time I'll be able to give the nearby Class C airspace a go.

As a postscript, I feel pretty good about my weather analysis, since I probably could have taken the longer trip if I had an alternate field (just in case). Simply watching the satellite pictures and observing the conditions "up stream" led me to believe that the weather was not going to be quite as bad as forecast. While I don't know what's up a few thousand feet wind-wise, I can see that the forecast overcast and rain is a total no-show. That front just wasn't going anywhere and we probably could have skirted it in both directions. But the local weather lore says that when the wind gets above a certain speed in certain places, the turbulence is terrible. That much is likely the case tonight, and while it technically would have been a reasonable VFR flight, I don't cherish bouncing around the sky like a ping-pong ball.

Over the Hills and Far Away

Today was a short cross-country flight to allow the instructor to observe how I did transitioning through the various phases of flight, navigating, communicating, and simply being organized in the cockpit.

To be fair, this was hardly my first go at these tasks, and I've done most of this from the right seat countless times. The main trick today was keeping the plane on course and flipping charts in the cramped cockpit. The DA-20 feels pretty roomy for such a small plane until you need to have something in your lap (something bulky, like a pencil). So, today, as the instructor just sat and observed, the flight was completely uneventful.

My first (logged) cross country was supposed to be last night, but 40 knot winds and moderate turbulence reported for our flight altitude caused us to scrub it. No sense getting beat up for no reason. A night flight would have been more of a challenge, but it was nice to go somewhere a bit different, and concentrate more on the cruise tasks rather than spin around in circles over the "patch".

The only real difficulty was entering a right-traffic pattern at an unfamiliar field, with a right crosswind across the runway. This meant that I would have needed to be a bit farther from the runway to account for being blown in close during my turns. I wasn't. In fact, I was a bit too close in and had to go around. I could have technically landed since the runway was 10,000 feet, but it would have taken too much room and I felt better going around and entering a left pattern. The result was a much cleaner landing. The landing back at the home base was even better. Although it was a bit fast, and didn't even trigger the stall horn, it was smooth as glass. I'm not sure if it was the best form, but it sure felt good (and no criticism from the right seat, so I guess it was OK).

Now, if the weather holds out, I will have a night cross country in about 48 hours, with a different instructor again. Looking forward to it.

Flying for Fun

Today was another opportunity for some solo practice. The wind was calm, but there was about a 10,000 foot ceiling of mostly overcast, with bit of sprinkles. It was a great day for just flying around, which is what I ended up doing. It's good to just get out and fly, practicing the mental checklists, engine management, and basic procedures....without the instructor fiddling with the airplane and its controls.

I had made a plan to experiment a bit with some power/pitch exercises, but the close clouds and rain shafts made it a bit uncomfortable. So I stuck with some ground reference and slow flight...even a power-on stall. And I practiced going through the GPS screens and adjusting the mixture for cruise flight.

It was really just fun to be flying without many distractions, and experimenting with different configurations of the plane. I have come to the conclusion that there is one main difference between a flight instructor and a four-year-old: The four-year-old can be instructed not to touch anything in flight and be quiet at appropriate times. The instructor is constantly asking, "What happens if the engine quits?" "What does this do?" "What happens if it gets dark?" "How much gas do we have?" Etc., Etc. And, of course, pulling the throttle, pulling circuit breakers, making us do crazy maneuvers, and generally making the student think, "Don't make me come over there!" Not that it should really be any other way....


I suppose that if it turns out I have any advantage in my flight training, it will be less because of past experience with airplanes and more due to the fact that I have driven down the freeway with three kids in the back seat. Flight lessons are a lot more like that than I would have thought.

More Hood Time

We took advantage of one more good day before everyone closes shop for a quick rain/snow cold front to pass through tomorrow. Moderate winds but clear skies made for another good day of under-the-hood practice.


We did some of the same exercises as before, some climbs and descents, turns to headings, tracking a VOR, and some steep turns. We also did a bid of slow flight, which we also did before, but this time we threw in stalls (both power on and power off). Then, we did stalls in a turn and recovery from unusual attitudes.

This last one is where I take my hands off the controls, the instructor adjusts power and/or direction while I keep my eyes down, then I take the controls and have to put the plane back on a straight-and-level course. The idea is that if you accidentally end up in the clouds, you could inadvertently be in a steep spiral or a slow stall without being aware of it. The goal is to be able to gradually unload the G-forces without overloading the wings or engine or stalling the plane.

Overall, these are fairly straightforward exercises, and I feel fairly comfortable doing them. Of course, as before, the instructor is having me fiddle with the GPS and radios while maintaining steady flight or maneuvering, to mimic the multi-tasking required for just about any phase of flight.

Coming back to the field, we decided to practice the crosswind landing on the small runway. I botched the approach pretty horribly (way too high) and had to make a "for-real" go around. On the second try, I was still a bit high, but could fix it with a forward slip, and we touched down just about right.

Now, it's time for a bit more book learning, to prepare for cross-country flight planning. If the weather holds out for a while, I should be able to do the required flights pretty soon. The official count to date is 25.8 hours, with 1.4 night and 1.6 simulated instrument.

After Dark

Tonight was the first night flight (in the left seat, anyway). I was nervous, just because it's another aspect of flying that I haven't done much of. I was also keeping a close eye on the winds, since they were calm all day, but were forecast to come up ahead of a cold front.

I arrived at the field just before 8, and met the new instructor that I would be flying with. He does part-time instructing, focusing on nights and weekends. My regular instructor's schedule is too busy to do much night flying (being limited to 8 hours per day of flight time).

I was mentally prepared for the difficulties of night flying, plus, I had tried to get accustomed to the cockpit switches without looking at them over the past few flights. That only worked partially...the dark is still very disorienting.

But, it was a calm, cool night, with a nearly full moon and clear skies. There was one other plane in the pattern, and I was ready to go. We had to make a quick takeoff to get ahead of a plane on final, but other than that, the whole flight was fairly low-pressure. We took off and when we got to about 100 feet above the ground, the wind made itself apparent. It was a fairly consistent 15 knots or so I'm guessing, and we had at least 10 degrees of crab angle to maintain course. Since I was with the "new guy", we went out of the pattern and did some rough ground reference over roads so that he could see how I would track in the winds.

Apparently, I did all right, since we only spent about 10 minutes on that, made a few 180's and 360's, and then headed back to the pattern for touch-and-go's. All of my reading about night approaches focused on the tendency to be higher and faster than during the day. The rule is, fly just the same at night. Which means, however, that my old hurdle of having a bit too much speed and power came back to haunt me again. I managed to maintain decent landings, though, and we touched down smoothly, even if it wouldn't have been good enough if I was at a short runway.

I didn't seem to have too much of the typical feeling of being too high in the flare, just being a bit high on final. So once I was over the numbers, things smoothed out. The other tricky condition was that the gusty winds consistently stayed above about 100 feet. So I got to play with maintaining a slip into the wind for most of the approach, then having the wind drop out and having to re-correct for the lack of gusts. The result was good crosswind practice, but a forgiving touchdown, with a nice, squealing stall horn. One of the approaches even had a pretty big downdraft, which kept things interesting.

We did a couple go-arounds, then switched off the landing light to see if I could still stick it. With the full moon, I could just barely make out the centerline as we were ready to flare. I flared just a bit high on the first "dark" landing, but the next two were squeakers as well. Then, we did a no-flap landing, which means a much longer float down the runway, but again, a smooth touchdown.

Total, we did 8 landings tonight, and I enjoyed the night flying. I didn't get much time for sightseeing over the city lights, but it was sure a good night for the first go at it.

Where's the Wind?

One of the most important things to be aware of whenever flying is the direction and velocity of the wind. This is an important factor when flying cross-country (in order to make sure your ground track is in the right direction) and also when flying low, especially when going around the airport pattern. The latter case is the reason for practicing ground reference maneuvers, where you need to maintain a constant altitude while going around a point or doing S-turns. The trick is that the wind will be pushing you in some direction and you need to compensate for it by adjusting the rates of turns as you change headings.

That was my practice today, as it was last time, to be able to tighten the tolerances on my speed and altitude fluctuations while doing these. The wind was fairly calm at the field (as opposed to this day), so I thought it would actually be not very valuable training, but it's about all I can do still, since I'm not cleared for cross-country flying yet.


So off I went into our practice area, and tried to see what the wind was doing. I wasn't expecting much, but as I got to the western edge (along a river valley), I started picking up some moderate turbulence -- actually wind gusting through the valley. So consistent in fact, that when I came back over to the same spot a bit later, I hit the same air currents. So, the first S-turns didn't turn out that well and I left this spot for later and practicing some steep turns.

As I moved back to the east, the wind was a bit steadier, and only about 15 knots or so. It still took me a couple of turns to see which way it was going though, since it seemed to vary depending on where I was. The farmers down below must have thought I was lost, but I suppose they see a lot of planes just spinning around in the sky.

With a decent mix of turns around a point and S-turns, I did a few steep turns, which turned out okay. The final one was the best, even with altitude steady. Since I wanted to do some touch-and-go's, I started back, and called the tower. It definitely pays to pay attention, since the controller mixed up my call sign and another from the same school which is only one digit different. I had to negate the clearance he had given to the other guy, thinking he was me. And today wasn't anywhere near as busy as last week.

We got it straightened out, and I came in for the first approach. This one, like all the others (6 in all, with 5 touchdowns) seemed to come together just right. The wind was about 6 knots, about 30 degrees off the nose, so it was virtually perfect, and my groundspeed seemed awfully slow. Nevertheless, I kept the airspeed on, and even had a chance to do a forward slip on one of the approaches that was just a bit high.

One the second go-around, there was some departing traffic that the controller wanted to get off the ground. He asked if I would be willing to accept a "low approach" over the turf runway. That was a different experience, since every other approach has been over a paved runway. In the past, this has meant that we would fly lower and lower attempting to maintain a very low altitude over the ground, but if the wheels inadvertently touched, it was okay, since we were cleared for the "option". This time, not only was I not cleared to touchdown, but I was over grass, a no-no for this rented airplane (unless it's an emergency, of course).

This meant that I stayed a bit (a lot...) higher than I could have, but it was also interesting to approach a field that had no markings other than some white cones to delineate the runway edges. I saw that I can do all right without the VASI lights or other typical visual cues, and could have landed if it had been necessary.

Coming up...night flying?

Experimental

Today was simply a beautiful day for flying, and the schedule lately has been fairly flexible -- the instructor and I tend to decide "on the fly" as it were what to do on any given day. So it was today, when T.I.'s schedule dictated that he prepare for a last minute class that it sounds like he was suckered into by the other instructors. I had called earlier about possibly changing the schedule to to a "stage check", and based on consulting with the chief instructor, it was decided that I was competent enough to leave the pattern and venture out to spread my wings.

The end result was a flight to take advantage of the calm winds and clear sky to solo out in the practice area. I was actually free to fly around pretty much as I pleased, within reason of course, and it was a really neat feeling. Sure, it was my third solo flight, but now, I was outside of the tower's airspace, and I didn't need to remain focused on flying the pattern and constantly changing power and altitude. As expected, though, I still had to work on the various tasks for the practical test. So, while there was work to be done, I had complete control over my course, the radio, and whatever I felt like working on.

Even though there was only a little wind, I wanted to go through the ground reference maneuvers to improve my altitude control. As it was, because of the strong winds last time, I could at least mentally go through the necessary steps, without needing to make the turns quite as extreme. On the other hand, I found that my S-turns didn't work quite as well today, and I can't pin down what happened. I seemed to do them better in the wind... I also saw that I still need to work on my steep turns, especially keeping the full 45-degree banks and maintaining altitude.

In between turns around a point and S-turns, I tried some slow-flight maneuvers -- straight and level and shallow turns. In doing so, I also realized that I'm a bit scared of practicing stalls solo. It's still a bit nerve-wracking, and I will probably need to have the most practice with these in the near future (besides all the new stuff to come along.)

Then, partly to do something new, and partly because another plane was in the same practice area, I just went off and played with power, pitch, and trim to observe how the speed and altitude change with certain settings. I also experimented with leaning the engine at cruise power by reading the exhaust gas temperature gauge, but it was getting to be time to get back to the field, so I made a turn back and concentrated on getting set up to enter the pattern again.

Today was a very busy day, and it was hard to get a word in edgewise. Usually, when I report inbound, I give all my information (ATIS received, intentions, location, and altitude), but today just limited it to my call sign to give the controller time to work out the other traffic. I was also coming in on the wrong side of the field, and so I had to spin around a few times to let several approaches finish and let a departure get off. I also think I may have bungled my position report (or at least didn't give the controller enough advance notice) because I think he thought I was somewhere else. Hence, my very confused-looking track out to the northwest of the field.

Even with that, I didn't let it affect flying the plane and staying out of everyone else's way. So, while I was a bit rushed to get down once I was cleared and made a half-flap approach, the landing was nearly perfect, and I felt pretty good about handling the situation. I probably gave the controller a few more gray hairs, but I think it was actually about the busiest day I've seen since starting lessons here. I suppose since it was my first solo trip out of the pattern and back in, I shouldn't expect flawless quite yet...

Finally Some Solo Time

Through a coincidence of weather, workload, and aircraft availability, I hopped over to the field to fly a few circles around the pattern this afternoon. It's getting to be like skiing: when the weather's right, you just have to go (and be lucky enough to have a job that allows such flexibility).

Not much to report, since the whole idea was based around the fact that there was no wind, and with my recent crosswind challenges, it makes for easy landings...so they should have all been flawless, right? Yeah...

Out of a total of 9 approaches, I had a handful of near-perfect touchdowns, and just as I was thinking I'd finally gotten a handle on things, I didn't. I was coming down just a little fast, added a bit of power, but pulled back just a bit too much. I settled down too hard, and began porpoising, the classic error during landing practice. It only took two more bounces to know that I had to put a stop to things, power up, flaps up, and back up to try again. The next approach looked good, but I had tightened it up to squeeze in between an arriving and another departing aircraft. I ended up too high, too fast, and just went around.

The final approach also was just a bit fast, which I have identified as my biggest error through the whole training so far, but it worked out all right, and I made another smooth touchdown.

The experts discourage so many touch-and-goes, since it starts to get pretty old, and you should be working on a wide variety of tasks. But for me, landings pretty much are my weakest point, so I like to have the extra practice. I also need to simply build up some solo hours, since I'm now at about 20 hours -- technically halfway to the "end".

As it was, it was an hour well spent, because I could have easily handled a bit of crosswind, but it was a good confidence-builder to be able to settle the plane down with barely a squeak on a couple of those landings. That's a good feeling.

Windy Windy Windy

Another windy day. My instructor is beginning to vocalize his observations of my knack of picking not just windy days, but straight-out sideways crosswinds of 15 knots or so. (Honestly, it's not on purpose). One must also realize that due to T.I.'s workload (he doesn't even know how many students he has right now), it is rare that he remembers what we did on the prior lesson (true of most of his students, so he says). So, when it stands out that I tend to be the one who attracts the crosswinds, that's saying something...what it's saying, I don't want to know. But all in all, I have to say it's good practice, but it does get old after a while.

With the wind (and the bumps) that go along with the leading edge of a low pressure cold front, we ventured out, and as soon as we were near the edge of the airspace, I donned the hood (no Foggles today) for a good 30 minutes of bouncy, wind-corrected course-and altitude-holding maneuvers. For the record, I have read up on practicing without the attitude indicator (the gyroscopic "artificial horizon) in order to be ready if (when) it happens to fail. I think I would have been all over the sky if that had been on the agenda today. It was hard enough to watch speed, altitude, heading, course, and maintain some rough idea of "up" -- but on top of that was more fiddling with the GPS, VOR, and switching courses -- all while bouncing around in a 40-mph wind aloft. Yeehaw. My little tag that says "hood on" should have probably said "hold on".

When it was all done (which seemed like a full hour), I actually had managed to keep it together, and I don't think we were ever inverted...

After we were back in VFR conditions, we played with the wind a bit, and did a turn around a point. The two groundspeed extremes were 98 mph to 156 mph. Wheee. But I stuck it pretty well, and I made a nearly perfect circle. Then it was back to the pattern, for some "interesting" landings in the wind.

If you look closely, you can see that my steep turn entry and exit is oriented almost exactly perpendicular to the runway, about 8 miles away. Yeah, it was like that all the way down, too. I'd like to say that my wide turn into the straight-in approach was due to the wind...no, I just couldn't find the runway...

In we came, nearly sideways, and as we came over the runway, the gusts were, shall we say, "noticeable"? The first landing was a bit wonky, and I just about got blown off the runway, but away we went, for another go. We made left traffic first, and I was turned about 15 degrees into the wind, which you can see was maybe a bit much, but manageable. The left turns (into the wind on base) also made the plane easier to line up on the runway. Never mind, though, because it got away from me in the flare, and I drifted too far over - Go Around

Up we went, this time making right traffic to allow another plane into the pattern. Now, I was really asking for it. My turn toward the runway would be greatly accelerated by the wind, and so we angled out a bit from the field. While not apparent on the track, I was banked as far over as I felt safe doing, a bit low, and with the runway quickly approaching. I was probably barely a thousand feet out as I finally got lined up, and I was almost ready to abandon the approach, but it came together, and the wind allowed me to get down fairly gracefully, considering the alternative.

One more time around, this time for a landing a bit more into the wind, but on a significantly shorter and narrower runway, with no VASI to guide the approach. Still, even with a bit of crosswind (now more like a couple of knots rather than a bunch) I managed to stick it pretty well, and it ended up being a good day.

One of these days, I might solo again...

Wild Card

That's what today was....if the winds were good, another bit of soloing....if the winds were up too much, a day of "under the hood" practice with instruments. It was again borderline right up until flight time, and I'm glad it took the fuel truck an extra five minutes to get the plane filled up. In that time, the wind went from wishy-washy calm to a clear crosswind. We still decided to do a couple of patterns to see how it would work out, and indeed, it was going to stay at about a 10-knot cross.

The plan was to practice a bit of short- and soft-field takeoffs and landings, but with two weeks since my last flight, it took all I had to just keep things together as it was. Nevertheless, a short-field takeoff is fairly straightforward, with the primary differences being applying full power with the brakes on and lifting the nose earlier than normal, to reduce drag just a bit by getting the wheel off the ground (but not so much that the extra angle of attack slows you down again),

The main lesson I learned today (which was not explicitly on the syllabus) is that if there's a lot of crosswind, I probably don't even want to try a short field landing at this point. To do it right, you need to be going a bit slower - which is uncomfortable enough - and still battle the crosswind with reduced control effectiveness - because of the slower speed. It really is a situation that, if it were real, might dictate finding a different field to land at. So, with these being the conditions, my landings weren't that bad, but I was feeling like I was fighting it a bit more than I should have. My last few flights, I've had to concentrate on keeping the nose up during touchdown, now I had to concentrate on keeping the ailerons deflected into the crosswind (and since this was a short-field exercise, I had full flaps rather than the half-flaps of my last strong crosswind landings).

The net effect of it all was a decision to skip the solo work and do the instruments. That was just fine with me, and I was looking forward to it anyway. These exercises are meant to familiarize the pilot with keeping eyes inside the cockpit, looking at the dials. This is necessary to practice keeping control and navigating if you accidentally enter low-visibility conditions while flying under visual flight rules (VFR). This is also useful if flying VFR on a dark night, with few references to the horizon.

The basics today included holding a heading and altitude, climbing and descending turns, slow flight, and steep turns. For challenge, we also fiddled with the GPS and a few navigation functions while I had to maintain heading and follow the instructor's altitude commands. Then, we got headed back to the field, and I got the Foggles off as we entered the tower-controlled Class D airspace. I discovered on this flight that looking toward the sun with Foggles on really blinds you, and I just about lost track of my attitude during one of our steep turns. On the other hand, steep turns actually seem a bit easier when I'm not looking outside, so I guess it balances out.


After the instrument practice, I went down for a soft-field landing, which again, is hard to do at low speed in a crosswind. I got it down okay, but with a bit of bounce, and then a touch and go for one more. The last one was a bit off-kilter, but better, and I did a better job of keeping my speed down (with the stall horn whistling for at least the last half-mile of the approach). I'm wondering if it was because of our angling into the wind, but I think it's just extra-sensitive.

My next flight will likely be a "stage-check" with the chief instructor. This is a flight to make sure that the instructor and I have done our jobs and I'm officially set to use one of the school's planes to go off into the wild blue yonder (or at least to the wild blue practice area, which is kind of "over yonder").

The Winds of Change

Today wasn't shaping up to be a very good flying day. Just like yesterday, the winds were up and gusting...not bad for flying, but not good for soloing, either.

I arrived at about 3 pm and the winds were still about 15 knots, as forecast. In fact, T.I. was considering calling me to cancel just because there isn't a lot we need to do besides get the solo done. I asked if it was pretty much like yesterday, which he confirmed, so I said that I wouldn't mind still flying and doing something else. We decided to jump ahead a bit and do some of the simulated instrument training and go over a few preliminaries for cross-country flying.

So, we went into the classroom to go over the lesson. It involved reviewing the instrument scan and then some introduction to weight-and-balance. We also went over short- and soft-field takeoffs and landings. While T.I. spoke, I had a clear view of the mid-field windsock, and just kept hoping that it would slack off a little.

As luck would have it (you can't really be a pilot unless you're a little lucky, right?) the wind began to die down. After the 15 or so minutes we talked, it had stayed consistently calm. As T.I. finished the lesson, he looked outside and said, "Wow, the wind really went away." I said, "Yeah, in fact it's been down the whole time you were talking."

"Hmmm....we might change our plans, then."...things were looking good.

So out we went and up into the air. As we lifted off, the decision was made: remain in the pattern. The air was remarkably smooth considering the conditions up until a short while ago. Around we went, the old familiar course...

My landings were still a bit heavy with power, and T.I. gave me some advice to slowly bring it out a bit sooner than I had been. I had a couple of bounces, but I had it under control, and we survived...

After 5 landings, the wind was still calm. It was time. "You ready to go by yourself?" "I think so."

Back to the hangar, and go over the logbook and last minute advice. Mainly to watch my airspeed and throttle settings on that last 50 feet above the ground. Then I was off. A bit nervous, as I suppose I am for every flight, but actually feeling really good about the whole thing. I had it set in my mind that I would stick these landings, and I just focused on that. Everything else is almost habit at this point.

As usual, the plane lifts off much sooner without the extra weight, and I would have been speeding through the pattern if I hadn't taken a bit of the power out...kept it at about 2000 rpm rather than our typical 2200. And there it was, my first solo approach. I had it made, and I greased it onto the runway...flaps up....full power....off we go again.

With other traffic in the pattern, I made a right hand approach for the next one, and had to extend downwind a bit to give some room, but no problem. Pretty typical for this field. Down I came, and again, hit it right on. This was getting to be too easy. Probably was, compared to the ridiculous crosswinds yesterday...

Around one more time, everything set up just right. Another smooth landing and an exit to the first taxiway (a general indication of a really good landing and rollout). All in all, probably the three best landings I've ever had. Photos and handshakes all around, a congratulation from the tower controller, and a virtually perfect end to a questionably-starting day.

Red Bull Air Races - San Diego

I went to the Red Bull Air Races this past weekend. Suffice to say it was awesome. Words don't really do it justice, so the following are a few videos.


One taken of a single run, very near my vantage point:


A really nice behind the scenes:


A decent compilation from the other side of the bay:


Another good compilation, including some of the "side show" activity:


A bit of the Red Bull stunt helicopter:


An older video that gives some background of the air races:

Foiled Again

Yet again, the winds were not in my favor, at least as far as soloing goes. Even though we just stayed in the pattern again, I posted the tracks, just because they are so variable (and it makes a pretty picture, don't you think?)

The wind was all over the place, but predominantly 10-15 knots with gusts up to 20. And anywhere from 45 degrees off the runway, to almost 90. So, despite the poor soloing conditions, it made for some really good crosswind practice. The first three patterns were actually on runway 12, and then track #4 involved the switcheroo to 30. On top of all this, it was a fairly busy afternoon, and you can see three circles that we were directed to make to allow time for other traffic to get in or out.

The day actually started out pretty nice, with cool temperatures and some scattered clouds. But as lesson time came around, the wind started to pick up a bit, and steadily increased until the end. In all, though, I'm pretty proud of my patterns and my 360's, since they are prone to be a bit wobbly in the wind. My ground tracks worked out pretty well, and only one of the turns was really egg-shaped. You can even pick out the wind direction by looking at where my turns went a bit wide (#3, in two places, and #9). The really wide pattern #7 was due to spacing for a jet arriving.

Landings (my main focus at this point) are coming along well, too. I'm flaring better, and I have a better handle on the power, but today's gusts made it all the more challenging. The first few landings could be made with full flaps, but the remainder were with takeoff flaps. This is due to this plane's tendency to balloon in the gusts (it's very light and smooth so it picks up easily). This means that the speed coming in is higher, and it takes longer to slow down enough to touch down. So it's a bit of a trade-off. The longer you're in the air, the more time the wind has to push you around. But the slower you go (with full flaps), the more likely the extra lift is to cause you to rise up unexpectedly.

So we shall hope for better winds tomorrow.

Wind Practice

Today was a gusty day, with the threat of thunderstorms, or at least a bit of rain. On the deck, it was about 68, and the wind was just a 'breezy' 10-15 knots. Since it was a bit of a crosswind, but strong enough to get some good practice with ground reference, that's what we did. The solo would have to wait.

Takeoff was smooth, but there were some decent gusts that bounced us around a bit. We climbed up and went into the practice area for some turns around a point and some S-turns along a road (or irrigation ditch as the case may be). The picture of the track shows the first, rather egg-shaped turn while I figured out just what the wind was doing. Our ground speed varied from just over 90 mph to about 145 mph from the upwind to downwind sides. Once I could see the magnitude of the drift, my next two go arounds weren't too bad. The speed differential indicates that the wind was blowing about 25-30 mph.

So, on to the S-turns. Remembering that the first shot I had at these was with very little wind, I wasn't prepared (well, I was, but that didn't mean I handled the turns right). So, I fell into the common error of making the first 180 degrees about right, since I was turning into the wind. The second turn back to the right drifted lazily over the line and I just barely got the plane lined up on the roll-out of the bank. With one down, I tried another, with much better results. The key is to keep the turn very, very shallow (like 5-7 degrees) until you're ready to turn back to the line.

Then we did some steep turns. I struggled a bit with these, likely because it's been so long since I did them. But I learned to trim just before entering the turn at about 2200 rpm, then add power up to 2400 as I entered the bank. By trimming a bit nose up as you make the first 90 degrees of the turn, the plane will very nearly continue in a 45-degree bank hands-off. It just took one demonstration by T.I. to show me that I was fighting the plane too much. The last one turned out nearly perfect, but I still have trouble getting to and staying at a full 45 degrees. With the added wind, it felt like we were almost standing still on one leg of it.

It was time to land (again) and we made a few touch-and-go's in the gusty conditions. We did these with partial flaps, which was fairly new. I think I did one a couple of lessons ago, and I remember floating way down the runway. This time, with the wind, it wasn't as bad, but it does take a while to bleed off the speed. T.I. says that with full flaps in this plane, it tends to float and balloon. Maybe, but it seemed like I did that anyway.

I'm holding out hope that I'll get to solo on the first page of my logbook. Getting there.

Within Reach

Yesterday's flight should have probably included a solo, but I just couldn't stick the landings. Another round of pattern work to perfect the flare...another 11 approaches...another hour and a half to get it right...

Frustrating, but not the worst thing in the world. I can take pride that the rest of the flight, pattern, and approach are in good shape. It was even a bit bumpy, and I still kept it together. It's just the last 10 seconds and 30 feet or so that foils the whole endeavor.

The idea is to maintain a constant airspeed, descent rate, and power setting all the way into ground effect. Then, as the nose is brought up and the airspeed begins to drop, the stall horn whistles, and the plane settles to just about level over the runway, the power should be brought back to idle and the wheels should settle gently onto the concrete. Simple enough, right?

Not so fast. Literally. My approaches, while a bit fast (by about 5 knots) weren't bad. The wind was a bit gusty, so it actually was about right. Nevertheless, the extra speed over the numbers seemed to be my downfall, and I would either flare a bit too quickly, a bit too high, or just time the power reduction wrong. And we're talking about really subtle differences between what is merely decent (which I can handle) and a truly smooth landing. It's hard enough when the wind is a bit different on every approach without trying to get those last few motions of hands and feet just right.

So, maybe next time....

Motivation Insights

Another dual lesson today, in gusty conditions and a bit of rain. Again, it at first appeared that we might not fly today, but the incoming cold front held off just long enough to give me some good practice with strong headwinds (dropping like a rock with full flaps), and then, just for good measure, a switch to the perpendicular runway to try a direct 12-knot or so crosswind. It went fairly well, but the other runway is much shorter (about 2500 feet or so), so if you float even a little, you've practically used it up.

My patterns are coming along, and even with the winds, I can maintain a pretty good rectangle. On top of that, the tower kept us in right traffic the whole time, so I had a total of 9 approaches that way, with 2 to the left on the small runway. Good practice, even though it completely baffled the instructor (there was no particular reason for the tower to do it, since there really wasn't much traffic around.)

The problem today, and one that I have been anticipating since the start, is losing a contact lens at some critical moment. I had a mental contingency plan for dealing with it, namely, give the airplane to the instructor and put it back in. Today, it decided to happen during a practice engine failure on takeoff. That's a rush. So I'm trying to put the plane back down, my lens pops out, and I can't focus on the runway. It took a few seconds to figure out that it wasn't going to fix itself, and we had to climb out. T.I. was asking all about how it happens (and how often) and what the plan is if I'm solo. He doesn't wear lenses, so the whole idea is foreign to him. I need to get a backup pair of glasses to take with me in the future, and then hope it doesn't happen again.

So, in preparing to solo, and wondering if it's going to be the next flight...or the next...or the next, I can see how someone could easily become discouraged. All the studying and practicing, your head is full of mnemonics, acronyms, stall speeds, procedures, etc. After all that, all you can do is keep practicing until it falls into place. No additional reading will magically make your landings turn out, (although every so often you read something that gives you a new perspective). So, you trudge on, wondering what you're doing wrong and why it's taking you longer than your friend to solo. It's easy to lose sight of the goal.

My inadvertent solution was simply to not open the textbook or lesson manual for a week or so. There wasn't anything new in there, and I just had to turn my mind to something else. The other half of this was that instead of the lessons, I began reading two new books about aviators. One is Bob Hoover's autobiography, and the other is titled "Fliers" and is a compilation of interviews with all sorts of different pilots. The key was that these books and some other reading remind me why I'm doing this in the first place. All of these folks had their trials, and some of them have crashed their planes, but the focus was on why they fly and what they get out of it. Whether they are military, airline, crop dusters, bush pilots, or recreational, there is a deeper meaning and purpose that pulled them up into the air and kept them active at it. When the weather doesn't cooperate, the plane is just doing whatever it wants, when you're just not getting it right, it's good to have a reminder of what it's all about.

You have to love to fly.

Getting There

My last lesson was a few days ago, but I'm just now getting around to a post. This was my 9th lesson, I think, and it was virtually identical to the one prior. We stuck around in the pattern and did a total of 9 touch-and-gos. That's a lot if you believe most of the books, which say that 3 or 4 is usually enough, but it didn't seem like too much to me. The main difficulty was that after 8 circuits to the left (a standard traffic pattern), the last one was directed to be to the right to avoid some incoming traffic. That's where going around in a circle for 90 minutes can be a bad thing. You get into a particular zone, and your internal balance mechanism gets accustomed to a particular direction of turn. Then to go the other direction, by bank angles were a bit off and I flew more of a horseshoe pattern rather than one with parallel ends.

The primary goal of the flight was to ensure that I can get the plane on the ground, which I can do (at least in calm wind). Again, the weather here is "all or nothing" and it's either a beautiful day, or it's a day you don't even want to go flying. So while I've had great weather for flying, it doesn't give a lot of opportunity for significant crosswind maneuvers. Those will just have to keep waiting.

I've now worked up to between 10 and 11 hours, so I'm nearing a solo flight one of these days. I completed my pre-solo written test (provided by the flight school) and could pretty much take the FAA knowledge test anytime.

Dialing It In

Today's flight was, again, all pattern work. Due to a minor repair being required, we got a late start, so we just stuck to flying the local field and working on approach and landing.

One of the oddball things that stuck out in my mind today actually had nothing to do with my own flying in fact. While taxiing to take off, a regional jet pilot was questioning the controller about some departure procedure or another (something that I am completely unfamiliar with, but which I would presume an airline pilot should know before getting in the plane). It sounded pretty innocuous, but then as we got to the end of the runway and I angled for the runup anticipating the jet coming up behind me, we heard the controller say, "...make a 180 and taxi to runway 12"....the professional jet pilot had made a wrong turn right at the ramp and was headed for the wrong runway.... Ha, that makes me feel better and worse at the same time. Better, that mistakes happen to everyone. Worse, that I can expect to make a mistake when I have a thousand hours and my bouncy, wandering landings are a distant memory.

So, back to the flying at hand....

My home field has a VASI, and I can already tell that I must use it as more of a crutch than I should, because my approaches today were dead-on. At the uncontrolled field, all my references were gone, and today I realized that the VASI is clearly a big help. This is fine if I only fly into a VASI-equipped field, but I need to get better at identifying the runway picture to be able to fly the lonely strips that make up most of the airports in the country.

We flew a total of 8 go-arounds, with a mix of touch-and-gos, low approach, simulated engine failure at takeoff, just a bit of crosswind, and a fairly light traffic. The entire exercise went very smoothly, and my landings are coming along. I still flare a bit high (a common error), but it's getting better, and I can adjust for it when it happens. Didn't even have a bounced landing like I did last time.

All in all, lessons are moving along quite well. It's hard to grasp that I technically have enough knowledge to fly solo at this point, although there are still a few things to cover. And knowledge isn't necessarily the same as skill.

The Transition - Part 2

So, the idea was to practice pattern work at an uncontrolled field. This is basically the same flying as at any other field, but the radio work is a little different. The concept is that you report where you are and what you are doing at each stage of the pattern. At a controlled field (one with a controller managing traffic), the controller is monitoring positions of aircraft and doesn't necessarily need you to report except at specific locations, depending on the field.

But the old adage "aviate, navigate, communicate" held sway today. I was so busy dealing with my inherently bad approaches and unfamiliar field, that my radio work took a back seat. That's why the instructor is there, of course, and he picked up the slack when I got overworked. And I say "bad" approaches, but they really weren't. I just had too much altitude and too much speed and all my tracks were quite a bit different. I didn't have my familiar landmarks and references, the runway was much shorter and narrower (by about half in each direction), and maybe I was just having a bad day. In retrospect, I think the fact that it was an afternoon flight has something to do with it. I am definitely not a "morning person", but once I'm up, I do my best thinking before lunch. Of course, the air is less bouncy, but that really wasn't the problem today.

When all was said and done, what were supposed to be a series of landings, touch-and-gos, and low approaches turned into a couple of long touch-and-gos, some fast low pass flybys, a couple of go-arounds, and just plain crooked approaches. And just as I had made up my mind that my last approach would be a good one, my speed just wasn't coming down.

I couldn't put my finger on what was happening, but the plane just wouldn't drop altitude or speed, and the runway just starting slipping away underneath us. I even said, "I don't know what my problem is here."...to which T.I. replies, "I do...I pulled your flaps circuit breaker when you were turning toward the runway." Ah-ha! So, when I was thinking I was putting out flaps to slow down and descend, the plane was happily skimming along in cruise configuration... I had a tickling in my brain that something just wasn't coming together, but I just couldn't put it all together. The key in this situation is to expect the slow-down when flaps are put out, and to suspect a problem if it doesn't happen.

So, I called this post "The Transition". The reason is because more and more, T.I. is expecting me to take subtler cues about what to do at certain times, without direct instructions. This is a hard thing to get over, and it's a disconcerting feeling to watch a situation deteriorate while the instructor is calmly watching you sweat and try to decipher what is going wrong. Without a doubt, it is a necessary evil, but also hopefully it is building habits I'll never need to call on.

The Transition - Part 1

Today was a very interesting day, from both a flying and from a mental perspective. The lesson plan for today was fairly simple, and it involved things that I am quite familiar with either through past lessons or other flying. Mainly, we were concerned with operations at an uncontrolled field and performing some touch-and-gos to perfect the landing sequence. This might take a while, so I'll split it into multiple parts. Even so, the flight was so uneventful, and concentrated so much on pattern work, there wasn't much point in even posting the track for this one.

Of course, things are never as they seem, and while I was aware of some conditions that would make the flight more challenging (namely, visibility), there were a few surprises thrown in as well.

The past few lessons, including today's, were supposed to have some review of ground-reference maneuvers and crosswinds, but I seem to have a knack for picking "good" flying days, with little wind. So, while it makes for easy flying, it's not really challenging enough to put the skills to good use and form good habits for windy days. So that leaves room for more mischief on the instructor's part.

But back to the beginning. If you are anywhere in the northwest this time of year, you know that there can be some smoky days due to fires miles away. That has been the case here, and I was even concerned that we might not be able to go up at all. Visibility was reported at 4 miles, with 3 being our limit for the airspace we are in. It improved as I arrived at the field, sort of, but it was still extremely hazy. Now, if you are unfamiliar with the concept of instrument flying, it is a difficult enough task to learn to switch your focus inside the cockpit and ignore your body's sensory perceptions. Even if you are familiar, it is still a conscious effort to trust your aircraft's instruments. Today, I got a task of flying without reference to the horizon, and it was a definite eye-opener!

As we climbed out, the sky was a pale white, and although the ground was plainly visible if you looked down, the horizon was gone in the murk. As we bounced along in what would have been insignificant bumps on a clear day, I actually began to get dizzy and had to quickly switch my gaze inside to focus on the dials. My eyes had no visual reference to balance from, and the short 8-minute trip to our practice field was quite a challenge until I could make out some hills in the distance to use as a guide. Clearly, even a little bit of instrument training can go a long way to alleviate this, but it was also a good warning that low (or no) visibility can instantly lead to disorientation and even panic if you are unprepared.

The pattern work itself should have also been fairly straightforward, but more on that in the next post....

The Emergency

Compared with last time, this flight was even more benign, even though we practiced engine failures and emergency landings. Due to extra time on the ground and a general lack of wind, we didn't review ground reference maneuvers, which are on the syllabus for today. And we also only had time for two practice emergencies and then a couple of patterns.

The engine failure scenario in this plane is very low-key. The large glide ratio means that if you can manage to maintain a constant 73 knots (which I did NOT do very well) then you can make just about any field that you can clearly distinguish. I didn't do a good job on speed on the second try, since I was so busy just trying to go over and ingrain the habit of scanning the controls and instruments - something you would do in a true emergency to make sure you didn't inadvertently pull the throttle, cut your fuel, or some other "silly" mistake. The result of going too fast or too slow is that you descend faster, which in this case wasn't a problem, since we had picked a field that was fairly close.

We fly our practices in a very rural area, which a lot of ranches and pasture or fields. This makes for pretty easy pickings when scoping for a place to land, but it was a good lesson about the things that pop into view when you are a few hundred feet up and not near an airport. Irrigation sprinklers, power lines, cows, and subtly uneven terrain suddenly make your chosen field not so nice. It's a good lesson to keep the eyes open for things close by, since that distant field - while technically within range - may not end up being all that great.

On our return to the pattern, there were several planes in the air, so it was good practice to be watching for traffic, monitoring the tower, fiddling with the GPS (at the instructor's direction - I think he was making sure I could do a few things at once, like the test will be), and flying the pattern. Rather than enter the pattern and go around, the tower had me enter a right base directly to get in front of some other traffic. That also was different, and it negates all the nice visual references you get used to during the regular pattern.

Normally, there are specific points at which to reduce power, lower flaps, make turns, and descend. This time, all those cues were gone, so I had to wing it and we came in a bit high and fast. We were only going to perform a touch and go anyway, so it wasn't a big deal, but we ended up just flying a low approach and then climbing out again. Then, we had to extend our pattern to make room for a regional jet coming in. Keeping it in sight, we were communicating with the tower to provide enough room and allow his wake turbulence dissipate while we came around for another low approach.

By the time we came through again, there was another plane landing behind us, so we did another low approach, and the crosswind was picking up, so it was good practice to shift from a crab into the wind to a slip. Then it was back up into a standard pattern and a full-stop landing to end our lesson.

All in all, I feel like I have a good grasp of basic control and a mental picture of the other traffic. Landings will still be a challenge, but performing these crosswind low approaches are definitely a big help. Still looking forward to another lesson. I now have 7.3 hours, so I guess I'm over the "6-hour slump".