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".

Ground Reference

Today's flight was much more uneventful than last time, due to the cooler morning air, the lack of thermals, the lack of any big winds, and a nice overcast to keep things generally cooler in the cockpit as well.

That made it a nice introduction to ground reference maneuvers, although it didn't really provide a good environment to prepare for the tested skills. So, we didn't spend too much time on them, and as you can see from the tracks, it was pretty easy to turn around a point, although the timing on my S-turns could be a bit better. (I didn't quite get perpendicular to the road by the time I had to roll from one direction to the other). We will be coming back to these when there is enough wind to keep it interesting.

So instead, we concentrated on pattern work, low approaches, a couple of touch and go's, and a landing. In the midst of all that (a total of 7 approaches), we had other traffic, a right-hand pattern, a wind (and runway) change, a right 360 for spacing, and a quick turnaround and short base. Oh, and a near-collision with two small birds on one of the climb-outs, just for good measure.

All in all, the hardest part of this is the low approach. This is a "maneuver" where you come down to the runway as if to land, but then add just enough power to float about 10 feet over the runway at minimum speed. It's an exercise designed to accustom the student to low altitudes, looking all the way down the runway at landing, correct for crosswinds while tracking down the centerline. Suffice to say, it's hard to do, but worth it. It doesn't feel right to be that low and not be on the ground, and the cross-control required for a crosswind is a challenge as well.

The next lesson introduces emergency procedures, so it will be even more of a challenge to start making the past lessons second-nature while dealing with engine failures and such.

Miscommunication

Just as in many aspects of life, miscommunications while flying can lead to confusion, delay, and dangerous situations. In the midst of a critical maneuver, miscommunication can lead to immediate disaster if not remedied. Yesterday's flight had a minor dose of miscommunication, in the form of a command from the instructor that I was not familiar with. While it did not affect the immediate safety of the flight, it occurred during the second low approach and led to a tense few seconds.

The intent of the second go around was a touch and go. But immediately prior, we were doing another low approach, as we had on the first run. Whether I 'remembered' what we were supposed to be doing or not, I was definitely concentrating on maintaining the low altitude right over the runway rather than anticipating the touch and go (which was my first).

In any event, as we were 3/4 of the way down the runway or so, T.I. decided it was time to touch down and commanded "throttle out", meaning to idle. This was a term that I had never heard before, either in past flights or on the ground. He could have said "idle power", "cut power", "pull throttle", "pull power", or a number of other things that would have made sense to me. As it was, my mind was trying to grasp the meaning as we were barely 10 feet over the runway. His commands of "out!" got louder and more frequent the farther we went for about 4 seconds. I remember consciously thinking that "out" might mean to climb out, and that at least, the worst thing that we could do was to get higher.

So, as my hand froze on the throttle, my brain scrambled to put meaning to this word, and we wallowed closer and closer to the end of the runway, I (probably unconsciously) decided that the best move was to add power and climb out. This was when the command changed to "IDLE!", and I said "Oh, I didn't know what that meant." Power back to idle, and we managed a quick touch and go that had plenty of room to spare. On the climb out, we had a little talk about how T.I. would make sure to clarify new terms. I didn't give it much thought at the time, but it highlighted an important facet of flying.

While my brain struggled for comprehension, I couldn't speak and I couldn't do much else other than the physical control of the airplane that I had just recently learned. I wouldn't say it was panic, but I was definitely frozen as far as the task was concerned. I still was keeping an eye on the far side of the runway, and if we had actually been in danger, I was consciously prepared to gun the engine and climb. It was clear, though, that whatever conscious thoughts I was processing were probably vastly outnumbered by the rapid computations of trying to interpret one little three-letter word. That computing power taxed my brain's remaining resources, and left little room for the ability to even ask a question or simply say "what?"

That 4 or 5 seconds was a vivid reminder that miscommunication needs to be cleared up immediately. It is also a reminder that if the act of controlling the airplane is not learned to the point of being able to do it subconsciously, a real emergency can quickly overpower the thoughts you need to do it. That is where a simple "freeze up" can turn to panic and lead to disaster.