The CAP portion of this post relates to my first formal lesson in front of our small group of cadets. I am on what is called the "Aerospace Education Professional Development (PD) Track". This is the route by which I will eventually receive promotions and all the glory that goes along with being a CAP senior officer...
In the near future, I will need to develop some formal learning materials to teach cadets about aviation history, space flight, and general aviation principles. Some of the material I will need to learn myself for the first time. For now, though, I get to teach them what I already know pretty well: aircraft systems, airports, and navigation. While my previous interactions were somewhat ad-hoc, this week's meeting included a formal lesson complete with visual aids.
The details are pretty boring, but let me set the stage for you: This is a small group of 12 to 18 year olds who - for whatever reason - are attracted to the idea of aviation and probably future military service. One cadet is in fact already signed up for the navy and will be shipping out for training this summer.
Silly me, I would have assumed that they had some connection to aviation to begin with. A relative with a plane or who was a pilot...something. Apparently not. Surprisingly (but encouragingly) they simply are attracted to the concept without having much experience at all. Although CAP offers "orientation flights", most have not yet had the chance to go up.
Even so, I can take it down a notch and assume that they at least have some interest in science (which they do). Nonetheless, we got around to talking about the instruments in the airplane and the concept of the gyroscope. I opened the book to show a diagram of one of the mechanisms, and casually said something like, "But you've probably all played with a gyroscope before." Crickets...
Nothing. Blank stares. Really? NONE of you ever had a gyroscope?
Now, I'm not that old. I identify more with the young cadets (half my age) that I do the senior members (almost twice my age). I still consider myself a student but I definitely have a greater comfort level with technology than some of the old guys. But really - no gyroscopes?
So, I was on a new mission. I planned to go run to the toy store (a national chain that shall not be named) to pick up a few for my kids and "borrow" them for a meeting to demonstrate the principles involved. Well....
Turns out that the gyroscope anemia extends to the toy store personnel as well. I am quoting when I say that the first person I asked about gyroscopes said, "A wha-ha-ha??" "A gyroscope...a little spinning top...," I responded. After a consultation on the store radio, we were directed (led, actually) to the yo-yo "department", a small shelf near the front of the store. Guess what? No gyroscopes. Lots of yo-yo's, nothing else. Blank stares all around again.
So I wandered the store on my own, thinking there must be a "science" section. Which there was...microscopes, telescopes, and mini-science projects. But no gyros here either.
I left wondering where our country has gone wrong. There is something fundamental missing when we wonder why we can't interest more kids in science and math but can't seem to find a way to get a gyroscope or other similar simple toy into their hands to fiddle with. Perhaps we shouldn't be so worried about national health care. Maybe we need a national gyroscope fund to put one or two of these in every kid's hands and just let 'em go. Something to consider for the new year...
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Flying - Passenger Style
Although I got to fly today, I was only a "passenger" in one of the Civil Air Patrol's Cessna 182's. One of the things about CAP: be ready to fly on a moment's notice.
Here it is, the day after Christmas. It may as well be its own holiday, as no one is really out and about except for the shoppers who dare to brave the cold. Today's high was a balmy 21 degrees, but little wind and a crystal clear sky made it quite nice for flying.
I got a call in the afternoon from one of the pilots who was planning on going out for some touch-and-go's. He was up at the field, and had just preflighted the plane, so I rushed to get my CAP uniform on and gathered up my flight bag and headset. In short order, he showed me some of the special checklist items for this model aircraft, and we were set to fly.
In a standard CAP aircraft, they fly missions with two or three crewmembers. There is the pilot, the "observer" in the right front seat, and the "scanner" in the left rear. The observer's and scanner's jobs are to look out the window to find the objective, which might be a lost hiker, a downed aircraft, or other search-and-rescue related item. In addition, the observer (though not necessarily a licensed pilot) acts as a co-pilot to work radios, assist with navigation, and perform other duties as directed by the pilot.
Today's flight wasn't intended to do anything for me except familiarize myself with the plane and see it in action. I was content to simply be a passenger, but took the controls during climbout and the short "cruise" out to the local practice area. Not only was it odd to fly from the right seat, but there are extra controls for the constant-speed prop and the plane generally feels heavier to fly. I think I had some extra aileron pressure just because of the odd sight picture from the "wrong" side of the plane.
Overall, the CAP experience is interesting to say the least. Another senior member who joined just after me has taken a special interest in making sure I stay involved with the group. An ex-Marine with hundreds of hours and a long-expired CFI certificate, he fits right in but knows how challenging it can be to keep young pilots engaged in the organization.
My new duties involve teaching aerospace concepts to the cadets, which I think I will enjoy doing. I also have started looking into the idea of taking the tests to be a certified FAA ground instructor. Then, I can sign off pilot logbooks for classroom instruction.
Hopefully, the coming year will include some improved finances and allow some additional flying time. If not, I may have to settle for tagging along whenever I can.
Here it is, the day after Christmas. It may as well be its own holiday, as no one is really out and about except for the shoppers who dare to brave the cold. Today's high was a balmy 21 degrees, but little wind and a crystal clear sky made it quite nice for flying.
I got a call in the afternoon from one of the pilots who was planning on going out for some touch-and-go's. He was up at the field, and had just preflighted the plane, so I rushed to get my CAP uniform on and gathered up my flight bag and headset. In short order, he showed me some of the special checklist items for this model aircraft, and we were set to fly.
In a standard CAP aircraft, they fly missions with two or three crewmembers. There is the pilot, the "observer" in the right front seat, and the "scanner" in the left rear. The observer's and scanner's jobs are to look out the window to find the objective, which might be a lost hiker, a downed aircraft, or other search-and-rescue related item. In addition, the observer (though not necessarily a licensed pilot) acts as a co-pilot to work radios, assist with navigation, and perform other duties as directed by the pilot.
Today's flight wasn't intended to do anything for me except familiarize myself with the plane and see it in action. I was content to simply be a passenger, but took the controls during climbout and the short "cruise" out to the local practice area. Not only was it odd to fly from the right seat, but there are extra controls for the constant-speed prop and the plane generally feels heavier to fly. I think I had some extra aileron pressure just because of the odd sight picture from the "wrong" side of the plane.
Overall, the CAP experience is interesting to say the least. Another senior member who joined just after me has taken a special interest in making sure I stay involved with the group. An ex-Marine with hundreds of hours and a long-expired CFI certificate, he fits right in but knows how challenging it can be to keep young pilots engaged in the organization.
My new duties involve teaching aerospace concepts to the cadets, which I think I will enjoy doing. I also have started looking into the idea of taking the tests to be a certified FAA ground instructor. Then, I can sign off pilot logbooks for classroom instruction.
Hopefully, the coming year will include some improved finances and allow some additional flying time. If not, I may have to settle for tagging along whenever I can.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
G1000 Ground Training
Over the past couple of weeks, three new CAP senior members (myself included) have been receiving classroom training on the G1000. If you are not a pilot, this may not seem all that significant, but as a CAP member, this is free training. Working with a regular flight instructor on this would have cost me a few hundred dollars, plus the cost of training CD's and videos. My CAP membership has just paid for itself several times over, and I haven't even gotten to fly yet.
Now may be a good time to point out, for all you other pilots out there, that CAP provides an economical way to build flying time. You wouldn't do it as a career path, but still. If flying on an approved mission (i.e., a real search, a training flight, or a ferry flight), there is no cost to the member to fly a CAP aircraft. In addition, a member can request to use the CAP aircraft for personal flying - and not at regular rental rates either. For a G1000-equipped Cessna 182, the cost is just under $40 per hour, dry. I challenge you to find a cheaper way to fly equipment like this.
The training so far has centered around some off-the-shelf training discs from King Schools and Sporty's. Sure, I could purchase these and go through them at home, but having an instructor (who also happens to be a pilot examiner) who knows the system is invaluable.
Now may be a good time to point out, for all you other pilots out there, that CAP provides an economical way to build flying time. You wouldn't do it as a career path, but still. If flying on an approved mission (i.e., a real search, a training flight, or a ferry flight), there is no cost to the member to fly a CAP aircraft. In addition, a member can request to use the CAP aircraft for personal flying - and not at regular rental rates either. For a G1000-equipped Cessna 182, the cost is just under $40 per hour, dry. I challenge you to find a cheaper way to fly equipment like this.
The training so far has centered around some off-the-shelf training discs from King Schools and Sporty's. Sure, I could purchase these and go through them at home, but having an instructor (who also happens to be a pilot examiner) who knows the system is invaluable.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Moving Along
Slowly but surely, my CAP experience is taking shape. I still don't know what the holdup was, but everything is now in order for my Level 1. It is now on the books, so I am now "in" and can fly in the aircraft, work with cadets, and get moving on professional development.
The CAP specialty tracks include several roles. I had been looking at the public affairs officer position, but after talking to the wing PAO, I found out that there is a lot of time built into the advancement. Basically, many of the steps require a full year of service, rather than six months as in many of the other positions. This doesn't keep one from working on things outside of the chosen path, and some of the public affairs tasks are pretty interesting, so I might still consider it. On the other hand, the squadron commander asked me if I would be interested in Aerospace Education. It looks pretty straightforward, and obviously fits my piloting experience, so it's rapidly rising to be my first choice. Doing that would require that I become actively involved in training cadets and also doing some outside education, like at local schools. I'm all for that...
Today, I also went to my second senior meeting. On top of some administrative stuff, we talked about having a squadron fundraiser. Most interesting was that a couple of new members like myself need to get G1000 familiarization. Though I don't have enough PIC hours yet, I can still do the ground training. This goes hand in hand with my time playing around with the DA-40 so long ago. I still remember much of the information, and a second time around would be a good thing.
Starting next week, then, we begin getting into some more meaty parts of the flying game.
The CAP specialty tracks include several roles. I had been looking at the public affairs officer position, but after talking to the wing PAO, I found out that there is a lot of time built into the advancement. Basically, many of the steps require a full year of service, rather than six months as in many of the other positions. This doesn't keep one from working on things outside of the chosen path, and some of the public affairs tasks are pretty interesting, so I might still consider it. On the other hand, the squadron commander asked me if I would be interested in Aerospace Education. It looks pretty straightforward, and obviously fits my piloting experience, so it's rapidly rising to be my first choice. Doing that would require that I become actively involved in training cadets and also doing some outside education, like at local schools. I'm all for that...
Today, I also went to my second senior meeting. On top of some administrative stuff, we talked about having a squadron fundraiser. Most interesting was that a couple of new members like myself need to get G1000 familiarization. Though I don't have enough PIC hours yet, I can still do the ground training. This goes hand in hand with my time playing around with the DA-40 so long ago. I still remember much of the information, and a second time around would be a good thing.
Starting next week, then, we begin getting into some more meaty parts of the flying game.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Some Basic Aerospace
Though I have completed all of my Level 1 requirements, it is still not posted to the national online database yet. The general consensus of the other senior members is that the squadron commander is sitting on something and not following up on the paperwork. I went to the cadet meeting tonight in part to see if I could get some answers, but the commander was out...
In the meantime, the cadets were having an aerospace lesson. This covered some of the same material that the cadet from last week was having trouble with. I'm still barely up to speed on the senior member advancement program, and know very little about what the cadets need to do. But I can handle the technical side of things. With nothing else to do about my own membership issues, I spent an hour with the cadets assisting with their lesson.
We went over aircraft instruments, power plants (engines), and airport lighting tonight. I am one of those people that is usually not satisfied with a single word answer. This probably bugs the heck out of the cadets, but I will consistently ask "why". For example, we discussed gyroscopes - the artificial horizon and heading indicator instruments in the plane. They basically need to know how they work and why. But I push it a bit further. "Why do you need to readjust the heading indicator? Precession. What is precession? and so on..." I didn't hijack the discussion, but I do feel that rote memorization is but a small part of the learning process. Visualizing how and why something works the way it does is another story.
Speaking of another story...
Peripherally related to my latest endeavor, I will be making a trip down to Casa Grande, AZ for the Copperstate Fly-in. Though I will not actually be flying ($$$), I'm looking forward to going. I've never been to an EAA event, which focuses on the experimental and home-built markets, rather than the military air shows I usually go to. Also on the agenda however: I am trying to set up a visit with an aviation author that I particularly enjoy and have had some conversations with over the past year. Cool stuff. Aviation definitely can take you places.
In the meantime, the cadets were having an aerospace lesson. This covered some of the same material that the cadet from last week was having trouble with. I'm still barely up to speed on the senior member advancement program, and know very little about what the cadets need to do. But I can handle the technical side of things. With nothing else to do about my own membership issues, I spent an hour with the cadets assisting with their lesson.
We went over aircraft instruments, power plants (engines), and airport lighting tonight. I am one of those people that is usually not satisfied with a single word answer. This probably bugs the heck out of the cadets, but I will consistently ask "why". For example, we discussed gyroscopes - the artificial horizon and heading indicator instruments in the plane. They basically need to know how they work and why. But I push it a bit further. "Why do you need to readjust the heading indicator? Precession. What is precession? and so on..." I didn't hijack the discussion, but I do feel that rote memorization is but a small part of the learning process. Visualizing how and why something works the way it does is another story.
Speaking of another story...
Peripherally related to my latest endeavor, I will be making a trip down to Casa Grande, AZ for the Copperstate Fly-in. Though I will not actually be flying ($$$), I'm looking forward to going. I've never been to an EAA event, which focuses on the experimental and home-built markets, rather than the military air shows I usually go to. Also on the agenda however: I am trying to set up a visit with an aviation author that I particularly enjoy and have had some conversations with over the past year. Cool stuff. Aviation definitely can take you places.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Winging It With The Cadets
Tonight I attended another CAP cadet meeting. I have been going to more of these than I probably need to, especially since I'm still working into the system, but the squadron commander is happy to have me. Tonight, he asked if I was comfortable reviewing a cadet's non-passing test with him to make sure he gets some remedial help before taking it again.
I looked at the test - basic aviation stuff, but not too much different than the FAA written exam. The squadron commander had already graded the test, but hadn't marked the correct answers on the questions the cadet had wrong. So, I had to know the right answers, and also be able to explain intelligently the why's and how's so that he would understand. How's that for jumping right in.
I surprised even myself. It turns out that the cadet's no-pass really just came from a severe lack of studying. Most of his wrong answers were outright guesses. Nonetheless, we went through it question by question. Aircraft systems, airport lighting and signage, and some other basic aeronautical knowledge...phew...and I didn't have to stumble around and find a book to reference. Somehow, even though my own flying has been infrequent at best, all that stuff is still in my head.
On another note, I also finally contacted the wing public affairs officer this week about my idea for putting together some articles about this experience. Short answer: "Definitely go for it!" So, I'm encouraged about combining my interests in aviation and writing. We shall see if I can put together a coherent pitch to AOPA.
I looked at the test - basic aviation stuff, but not too much different than the FAA written exam. The squadron commander had already graded the test, but hadn't marked the correct answers on the questions the cadet had wrong. So, I had to know the right answers, and also be able to explain intelligently the why's and how's so that he would understand. How's that for jumping right in.
I surprised even myself. It turns out that the cadet's no-pass really just came from a severe lack of studying. Most of his wrong answers were outright guesses. Nonetheless, we went through it question by question. Aircraft systems, airport lighting and signage, and some other basic aeronautical knowledge...phew...and I didn't have to stumble around and find a book to reference. Somehow, even though my own flying has been infrequent at best, all that stuff is still in my head.
On another note, I also finally contacted the wing public affairs officer this week about my idea for putting together some articles about this experience. Short answer: "Definitely go for it!" So, I'm encouraged about combining my interests in aviation and writing. We shall see if I can put together a coherent pitch to AOPA.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
SAREX
SAREX = Search And Rescue Exercise
Today I went out with the squadron and some pilots from elsewhere in the wing on a SAREX (the military emphasis on acronyms will never die). The exercise is intended to provide training to pilots, observers, ground teams, and command post staff. This was a fairly small group, so everyone was involved somehow. Since I'm still not done with Level 1, I'm not cleared to fly in the CAP aircraft yet (even as an observer). Nonetheless, I was able to tag along with the cadets, who generally comprise the ground teams with SM assistance.
After a morning briefing to cover safety, weather, and communications, we waited...and waited...
Apparently, keeping even a group this small well organized and efficient still presents something of a challenge. The pilots were going over some ground briefings of their own about the airplane's avionics, there were questions about assignments of staff, and the time just slipped away. In any event, true to military standards, we eventually got going.
The ground team's job was to lay out some targets for the pilots to find. The targets are bright tarps to simulate aircraft pieces or a person's clothing. If someone were lost in the wilderness, it is expected that they will do their best to be seen, using bright clothing, geometric shapes, etc.
Then, the cadets practiced using the radio to communicate with the air team, with the air observer then simulating providing directions back to the ground team - of course, we knew where the targets were, so we had to pretend to play dumb to receive turn by turn directions, but it's educational to run through the procedures. Just as simulated emergencies in the air don't quite get your heart pumping the same way that a real fire or engine failure will, the goal is to become accustomed to checklists, flows, communication techniques, etc. The same goes for search and rescue drills.
After the air team left to do some other practice, the senior members (myself included) did some lessons with the cadets on map reading, GPS, search lines, signs of a wreck, general search strategy, and signaling. Though I haven't had any search and rescue experience, I could still contribute quite a bit to the map and GPS lesson.
I am still getting to know the cadets, but they are a bright bunch of kids. I'm still trying to figure out everyone's underlying goals for being in the program though. After I'm more involved in the system and have the authority to tailor lessons to them, it will be important to have some personal conversations to find out what their respective interests are.
Today I went out with the squadron and some pilots from elsewhere in the wing on a SAREX (the military emphasis on acronyms will never die). The exercise is intended to provide training to pilots, observers, ground teams, and command post staff. This was a fairly small group, so everyone was involved somehow. Since I'm still not done with Level 1, I'm not cleared to fly in the CAP aircraft yet (even as an observer). Nonetheless, I was able to tag along with the cadets, who generally comprise the ground teams with SM assistance.
After a morning briefing to cover safety, weather, and communications, we waited...and waited...
Apparently, keeping even a group this small well organized and efficient still presents something of a challenge. The pilots were going over some ground briefings of their own about the airplane's avionics, there were questions about assignments of staff, and the time just slipped away. In any event, true to military standards, we eventually got going.
The ground team's job was to lay out some targets for the pilots to find. The targets are bright tarps to simulate aircraft pieces or a person's clothing. If someone were lost in the wilderness, it is expected that they will do their best to be seen, using bright clothing, geometric shapes, etc.
Then, the cadets practiced using the radio to communicate with the air team, with the air observer then simulating providing directions back to the ground team - of course, we knew where the targets were, so we had to pretend to play dumb to receive turn by turn directions, but it's educational to run through the procedures. Just as simulated emergencies in the air don't quite get your heart pumping the same way that a real fire or engine failure will, the goal is to become accustomed to checklists, flows, communication techniques, etc. The same goes for search and rescue drills.
After the air team left to do some other practice, the senior members (myself included) did some lessons with the cadets on map reading, GPS, search lines, signs of a wreck, general search strategy, and signaling. Though I haven't had any search and rescue experience, I could still contribute quite a bit to the map and GPS lesson.
I am still getting to know the cadets, but they are a bright bunch of kids. I'm still trying to figure out everyone's underlying goals for being in the program though. After I'm more involved in the system and have the authority to tailor lessons to them, it will be important to have some personal conversations to find out what their respective interests are.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
FEMA, Ground Handling, OPSEC, uniforms
Sometime during the last week, my paperwork made it through CAP national headquarters in Alabama. This is one of the golden keys to CAP's online universe.
Aside from the public CAP website, there is another portal just for members. Once you have a membership number (the result of the above paperwork's path), you can gain access and begin doing some of the online training.
The first thing they want you to cover is something called Operational Security (OPSEC). For all you patient readers out there, first a bit of history...CAP was formed in 1941, just days prior to Pearl Harbor. It was formed to provide aerial military spotters using civilian pilots and aircraft. After WWII, the mission evolved to include - and primarily focus on - search and rescue of downed aircraft. This was about the extent of my own knowledge of the organization prior to now, and it turns out there is much more to it.
Not only is SAR an important mission, but CAP focuses on aerospace education for youth and also some newer missions for Homeland Security. I must admit, I've not had the best opinion of DHS and especially TSA as of late. Regardless, CAP is still a volunteer organization, but as an outgrowth of the Air Force, it still falls under the purview of DHS. As such, it has become a more inexpensive means of providing training (especially as intercept targets) for the military. I happened to find a pretty interesting video about this mission here. What all this means is that as I write about my experiences, there will actually be some things I can't discuss...who knew?
Back to the online portal, OPSEC is but one of the videos and short quizzes required to achieve "Level 1" and the ability to work directly with cadets. As I mentioned before, youth protection is a critical aspect - with the background check being the first step. The next in this area is some reading and another quiz that is reviewed by the squadron commander.
Then, there is the interesting stuff. Part of flying involves moving aircraft on the ground. Unfortunately, this is also where most aircraft are most vulnerable to damage. Hence, a short video about the important points of this task. Finally, at least for now, there are some FEMA online courses about Incident Management. These are some very interesting insights into disaster response and interagency cooperation. I for one see some reflection of the Hurricane Katrina boondoggle in some of the structure, but it has indeed been around for quite some time. The other very cool thing is that one of the CAP uniforms is standard camouflage BDU's. So in addition to ordering the official CAP polo shirt from the national uniform vendor, I also stopped in at the local surplus store to buy a cap, shirt, and pants. The kids are duly impressed...
With some of the tests and quizzes out of the way (most are open book, by the way), I am on my way to achieving Level 1. Once there, I will begin working on the next, conveniently called Level 2. This is the real beginning of the more formal Professional Development tracks.
Aside from the public CAP website, there is another portal just for members. Once you have a membership number (the result of the above paperwork's path), you can gain access and begin doing some of the online training.
The first thing they want you to cover is something called Operational Security (OPSEC). For all you patient readers out there, first a bit of history...CAP was formed in 1941, just days prior to Pearl Harbor. It was formed to provide aerial military spotters using civilian pilots and aircraft. After WWII, the mission evolved to include - and primarily focus on - search and rescue of downed aircraft. This was about the extent of my own knowledge of the organization prior to now, and it turns out there is much more to it.
Not only is SAR an important mission, but CAP focuses on aerospace education for youth and also some newer missions for Homeland Security. I must admit, I've not had the best opinion of DHS and especially TSA as of late. Regardless, CAP is still a volunteer organization, but as an outgrowth of the Air Force, it still falls under the purview of DHS. As such, it has become a more inexpensive means of providing training (especially as intercept targets) for the military. I happened to find a pretty interesting video about this mission here. What all this means is that as I write about my experiences, there will actually be some things I can't discuss...who knew?
Back to the online portal, OPSEC is but one of the videos and short quizzes required to achieve "Level 1" and the ability to work directly with cadets. As I mentioned before, youth protection is a critical aspect - with the background check being the first step. The next in this area is some reading and another quiz that is reviewed by the squadron commander.
Then, there is the interesting stuff. Part of flying involves moving aircraft on the ground. Unfortunately, this is also where most aircraft are most vulnerable to damage. Hence, a short video about the important points of this task. Finally, at least for now, there are some FEMA online courses about Incident Management. These are some very interesting insights into disaster response and interagency cooperation. I for one see some reflection of the Hurricane Katrina boondoggle in some of the structure, but it has indeed been around for quite some time. The other very cool thing is that one of the CAP uniforms is standard camouflage BDU's. So in addition to ordering the official CAP polo shirt from the national uniform vendor, I also stopped in at the local surplus store to buy a cap, shirt, and pants. The kids are duly impressed...
With some of the tests and quizzes out of the way (most are open book, by the way), I am on my way to achieving Level 1. Once there, I will begin working on the next, conveniently called Level 2. This is the real beginning of the more formal Professional Development tracks.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Another Checkout Flight
I won't use the word "finally"...Five months off is too long -- 'nuff said.
Today, I received a checkout in a 172 from the instructors down the road. I don't know what's up with the planes at the big field, but I haven't seen them tied down lately, and the prices are cheaper at the local Part 141 school. I think that pretty much settles that decision.
The checkout was not too different than the ones in the Piper and 172 before. We did some preliminary briefing and watched the wind. Though it was supposed to be calmer than yesterday's 44-knot gusts, I was expecting up to about 10. It turned out to be in the 18-22 range, which was a bit concerning, but with it being a direct crosswind, we would have had to use the grass runway if it had stayed that strong. The other alternative, of course, is to postpone until later.
Today's plane was substantially the same as the others that I have flown, but with a different instructor, you always learn new tricks, habits, and each plane's idiosyncrasies. We flew a 1978 Cessna 172, with no Garmin GPS (the first time I've flown without that piece of hardware). The instrument panel was laid out a bit differently, so again, I take a few extra seconds to make sure I know where everything is.
As we taxied out, the instructor had me put in full aileron toward the wind. He said you can't go half-way in this airplane with the direct crosswind. It's all or nothing. Though I was nervous overall just for the length of time since I last flew, I was fairly confident in my crosswind skills. And the takeoff showed it. I kept it pretty well straight, just to the upwind side of the runway, and as we lifted off, we maintained about a 15-degree crab angle.
It takes some getting used to a new plane, and this one was no exception. The controls felt heavier, the sight picture is a bit different, and the throttle likes to creep in on you. If you don't keep a hand on it, you'll gradually start to speed up or climb. I asked about what to do in a level cruise (when you wouldn't normally have a hand on it as you do when doing low level maneuvers). The instructor said the friction lock would hold it, but you have to make sure to release it when you're ready to descend.
The flight consisted of a series of slow flight, power-off and power-on stalls, turns to headings, and steep turns. Although I had a bit of a climb as I entered the first steep turn, I am guessing that today's were close to the best I've ever flown. It's probably due to it being a bit more stable airframe, but whatever it was, the instructor was impressed (as was I).
One difference between instructors was apparent in the flap settings. Last time, we only put in 30-degrees, and I was instructed that 40-degrees just made you go too slow. That, combined with a tendency for the flaps to block the horizontal stabilizer in a slip, had made me mentally rule that setting out for most operations. Today, as we practiced the power-off stalls, we used the full 40, though I didn't really notice a big difference. I asked what the deal was, and the instructor said that you would need 40 for a "performance landing" where the runway surface, length, or obstacles dictated the slowest possible descent. Good to know. In addition, proper power-off stall procedure (if you were doing a formal checkride) is to have everything possible hanging out in the wind.
Today's landing, with the gusty crosswinds, dictated a higher approach speed, and we only used 10 degrees of flaps. The instructor was ready to take over the landing if it got to be too much, but I managed to get it down "planted firmly", as again, my sight picture put me a bit high. Still worked out to be a good landing though. So, while I'm still not current to take passengers (we decided not to tempt the winds with touch-and-go's, and as I write this, they are still a direct 13-19 knot crosswind) I'm at least checked out to go flying on my own.
Today, I received a checkout in a 172 from the instructors down the road. I don't know what's up with the planes at the big field, but I haven't seen them tied down lately, and the prices are cheaper at the local Part 141 school. I think that pretty much settles that decision.
The checkout was not too different than the ones in the Piper and 172 before. We did some preliminary briefing and watched the wind. Though it was supposed to be calmer than yesterday's 44-knot gusts, I was expecting up to about 10. It turned out to be in the 18-22 range, which was a bit concerning, but with it being a direct crosswind, we would have had to use the grass runway if it had stayed that strong. The other alternative, of course, is to postpone until later.
Today's plane was substantially the same as the others that I have flown, but with a different instructor, you always learn new tricks, habits, and each plane's idiosyncrasies. We flew a 1978 Cessna 172, with no Garmin GPS (the first time I've flown without that piece of hardware). The instrument panel was laid out a bit differently, so again, I take a few extra seconds to make sure I know where everything is.
As we taxied out, the instructor had me put in full aileron toward the wind. He said you can't go half-way in this airplane with the direct crosswind. It's all or nothing. Though I was nervous overall just for the length of time since I last flew, I was fairly confident in my crosswind skills. And the takeoff showed it. I kept it pretty well straight, just to the upwind side of the runway, and as we lifted off, we maintained about a 15-degree crab angle.
It takes some getting used to a new plane, and this one was no exception. The controls felt heavier, the sight picture is a bit different, and the throttle likes to creep in on you. If you don't keep a hand on it, you'll gradually start to speed up or climb. I asked about what to do in a level cruise (when you wouldn't normally have a hand on it as you do when doing low level maneuvers). The instructor said the friction lock would hold it, but you have to make sure to release it when you're ready to descend.
The flight consisted of a series of slow flight, power-off and power-on stalls, turns to headings, and steep turns. Although I had a bit of a climb as I entered the first steep turn, I am guessing that today's were close to the best I've ever flown. It's probably due to it being a bit more stable airframe, but whatever it was, the instructor was impressed (as was I).
One difference between instructors was apparent in the flap settings. Last time, we only put in 30-degrees, and I was instructed that 40-degrees just made you go too slow. That, combined with a tendency for the flaps to block the horizontal stabilizer in a slip, had made me mentally rule that setting out for most operations. Today, as we practiced the power-off stalls, we used the full 40, though I didn't really notice a big difference. I asked what the deal was, and the instructor said that you would need 40 for a "performance landing" where the runway surface, length, or obstacles dictated the slowest possible descent. Good to know. In addition, proper power-off stall procedure (if you were doing a formal checkride) is to have everything possible hanging out in the wind.
Today's landing, with the gusty crosswinds, dictated a higher approach speed, and we only used 10 degrees of flaps. The instructor was ready to take over the landing if it got to be too much, but I managed to get it down "planted firmly", as again, my sight picture put me a bit high. Still worked out to be a good landing though. So, while I'm still not current to take passengers (we decided not to tempt the winds with touch-and-go's, and as I write this, they are still a direct 13-19 knot crosswind) I'm at least checked out to go flying on my own.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Inspected by...
Another cadet meeting tonight. Earlier this week, I went in to get fingerprinted (first time ever with that experience). So, tonight, I brought in all my paperwork to get into the system.
I ended up staying only a short while tonight. The cadets were going over the online software for tracking various emergency services achievements. In order to be qualified for various tasks (such as leading a ground search team, being a scanner in the aircraft, etc.) you need to have a bunch of skills established. I don't know how they did it in the old days, but with the online tracking, it's pretty straightforward.
It was handy to see a bit of it in action, since I will need to be able to use it in the near future. For now, though, I'm still a non-member.
I ended up staying only a short while tonight. The cadets were going over the online software for tracking various emergency services achievements. In order to be qualified for various tasks (such as leading a ground search team, being a scanner in the aircraft, etc.) you need to have a bunch of skills established. I don't know how they did it in the old days, but with the online tracking, it's pretty straightforward.
It was handy to see a bit of it in action, since I will need to be able to use it in the near future. For now, though, I'm still a non-member.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
CAP Bureaucracy
I attended my first CAP senior meeting today. A grand total of five of us showed up, including myself - not yet a member. Actually, it was six for a while, but this is out of a total of 24 senior members in the squadron, so it seems like a pretty low number anyway. And I am the youngest one in the room - by a long shot.
Being a non-member, much of the material we covered went over my head. We discussed the CAP online tools for scheduling flight time and recording "missions". I understand the computer aspect of it, but still will need to become familiar with terms like "flight release officer" and other Air Force-related jargon. As an aside, I am fairly comfortable in a military setting. I worked as a civilian for the navy for two summers, and had I not gotten married right after college probably would have joined up. Still, when you start getting into the system, there's a lot of learning curve (and a lot of paperwork - even in the digital age).
Not much to say about the meeting itself, but I think I need to just join up to really get into it. It is, after all, a volunteer organization. If I can help out, that's great. If it turns out that it's not a good fit, then we move on. My professional background as a project manager screams out (using my inside voice) at the inefficiency that any bureaucracy fosters. And to listen to some of the older guys, you'd think they were being forced into indentured servitude. It may be a cousin of the Air Force, but it's still supposed to be about public service, education, and - yes - even a bit of fun. But some of these guys could really suck the air out of the room...
The meeting did, however, give me a stepping stone to the next level. I will go visit with the squadron commander tomorrow to pick up the official paperwork and fingerprint card. Then, next week, I'll get it all filled out and submitted. On the other hand, I also found out that I need to shift my point of reference when stating the number of hours of my flight time. While in training, and still to this day, I count my total time (including instruction). Now, though, the emphasis is on PIC time, which obviously is substantially lower (by about 40 hours). Whereas I originally thought that I had enough hours to begin some of the pilot training, this is not the case. So, more flying is in order...
We also discussed some of the introductory FEMA courses that will be required, uniforms, and some basics about Specialty Tracks. These are the "professional development" paths that you can follow as part of promotion. Wait, FEMA? Yes, since CAP is used in search and rescue as well as in disaster situations, members need to be familiar with things like incident command structure and inter-agency communication. Cool.
On my way...
Being a non-member, much of the material we covered went over my head. We discussed the CAP online tools for scheduling flight time and recording "missions". I understand the computer aspect of it, but still will need to become familiar with terms like "flight release officer" and other Air Force-related jargon. As an aside, I am fairly comfortable in a military setting. I worked as a civilian for the navy for two summers, and had I not gotten married right after college probably would have joined up. Still, when you start getting into the system, there's a lot of learning curve (and a lot of paperwork - even in the digital age).
Not much to say about the meeting itself, but I think I need to just join up to really get into it. It is, after all, a volunteer organization. If I can help out, that's great. If it turns out that it's not a good fit, then we move on. My professional background as a project manager screams out (using my inside voice) at the inefficiency that any bureaucracy fosters. And to listen to some of the older guys, you'd think they were being forced into indentured servitude. It may be a cousin of the Air Force, but it's still supposed to be about public service, education, and - yes - even a bit of fun. But some of these guys could really suck the air out of the room...
The meeting did, however, give me a stepping stone to the next level. I will go visit with the squadron commander tomorrow to pick up the official paperwork and fingerprint card. Then, next week, I'll get it all filled out and submitted. On the other hand, I also found out that I need to shift my point of reference when stating the number of hours of my flight time. While in training, and still to this day, I count my total time (including instruction). Now, though, the emphasis is on PIC time, which obviously is substantially lower (by about 40 hours). Whereas I originally thought that I had enough hours to begin some of the pilot training, this is not the case. So, more flying is in order...
We also discussed some of the introductory FEMA courses that will be required, uniforms, and some basics about Specialty Tracks. These are the "professional development" paths that you can follow as part of promotion. Wait, FEMA? Yes, since CAP is used in search and rescue as well as in disaster situations, members need to be familiar with things like incident command structure and inter-agency communication. Cool.
On my way...
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Another CAP Visit
I attended another CAP cadet meeting tonight, again with the intent of further developing an idea of how the group works and what they really do.
By now, I've done quite a bit of online research, but it's a shallow well compared with the vast amounts of information on other topics. The official CAP website is a bit daunting for a novice, and there is so much jargon that it would seem to discourage any but the most persistent. I get the feeling that it is partly due to the inherent bureaucracy and quasi-military attitude. In reality, however, this is a public volunteer organization. I would think they would want to be as open as possible to outsiders to promote the group.
At this meeting, I formally asked about the idea of writing articles about my experiences for aviation publications. The squadron commander supported the idea, and gave me the name of the wing PR officer to discuss it further. This may actually gain some traction.
I'm starting to put pieces together regarding promotions and "professional development", the official term for the technical expertise side of the operation. For instance, there are wing and squadron "officers" for such things as public affairs, logistics, and aerospace education. Serving in one or more of these roles contributes to promotion, though I haven't quite figured out what the benefit is of being promoted...
The main item of business tonight (aside from cadet physical training) was organizing an upcoming weekend outing. Since I am not yet a member, I can't really do much and am not able to work directly with the cadets on anything of substance. One of the steps of membership is to be fingerprinted and have a background check done. I think this is a pretty common step these days for any kind of youth leadership role (scouts, coaches, etc.)
I'm now looking forward to the upcoming senior member meeting, where I will hopefully meet a few more folks who are actually pilots and can tell me a bit more about that part of the program (I hear it is pretty important...)
By now, I've done quite a bit of online research, but it's a shallow well compared with the vast amounts of information on other topics. The official CAP website is a bit daunting for a novice, and there is so much jargon that it would seem to discourage any but the most persistent. I get the feeling that it is partly due to the inherent bureaucracy and quasi-military attitude. In reality, however, this is a public volunteer organization. I would think they would want to be as open as possible to outsiders to promote the group.
At this meeting, I formally asked about the idea of writing articles about my experiences for aviation publications. The squadron commander supported the idea, and gave me the name of the wing PR officer to discuss it further. This may actually gain some traction.
I'm starting to put pieces together regarding promotions and "professional development", the official term for the technical expertise side of the operation. For instance, there are wing and squadron "officers" for such things as public affairs, logistics, and aerospace education. Serving in one or more of these roles contributes to promotion, though I haven't quite figured out what the benefit is of being promoted...
The main item of business tonight (aside from cadet physical training) was organizing an upcoming weekend outing. Since I am not yet a member, I can't really do much and am not able to work directly with the cadets on anything of substance. One of the steps of membership is to be fingerprinted and have a background check done. I think this is a pretty common step these days for any kind of youth leadership role (scouts, coaches, etc.)
I'm now looking forward to the upcoming senior member meeting, where I will hopefully meet a few more folks who are actually pilots and can tell me a bit more about that part of the program (I hear it is pretty important...)
Thursday, July 23, 2009
A First Visit
After some phone calls to find out about meeting times and other administrative items, I attended my first CAP meeting tonight.
The local squadron is a "composite", meaning it is made up of cadets (under 21) and senior (I prefer to think of myself as the type in college, rather than the "citizen" variation...) members. This means there are two meeting schedules: one for the cadets - weekly for 2 1/2 hours each, and one for the senior members (SM's) - monthly.
The first meeting was pretty dry. The cadets learn a whole mess of stuff, but the intent of the organization is not just aviation. I identify a whole lot more with kids half my age than with SM's nearly twice that, and tonight's lecture on drug abuse didn't seem all that different than what I heard in school many years ago. That's unfortunate, since I realize that kids learn and process information much differently than 20 (or even five) years ago. But the lessons don't really reflect that. But I'm not going to rock the boat without even being a member first.
Tonight was just intended to get a feel for the group and meet everyone for the first time. I found out that it really is a quasi-military group. Sharp uniforms, drill for the cadets, saluting, the whole bit. I really had no idea.
I had to arrive a bit late, and ended up leaving early. It turns out that most of the SM's don't attend the cadet meetings for various reasons. The ones that do are those that are tasked with giving the many lessons. I will try to get to the first senior member meeting next month to get a better idea of just who I will be dealing with.
The local squadron is a "composite", meaning it is made up of cadets (under 21) and senior (I prefer to think of myself as the type in college, rather than the "citizen" variation...) members. This means there are two meeting schedules: one for the cadets - weekly for 2 1/2 hours each, and one for the senior members (SM's) - monthly.
The first meeting was pretty dry. The cadets learn a whole mess of stuff, but the intent of the organization is not just aviation. I identify a whole lot more with kids half my age than with SM's nearly twice that, and tonight's lecture on drug abuse didn't seem all that different than what I heard in school many years ago. That's unfortunate, since I realize that kids learn and process information much differently than 20 (or even five) years ago. But the lessons don't really reflect that. But I'm not going to rock the boat without even being a member first.
Tonight was just intended to get a feel for the group and meet everyone for the first time. I found out that it really is a quasi-military group. Sharp uniforms, drill for the cadets, saluting, the whole bit. I really had no idea.
I had to arrive a bit late, and ended up leaving early. It turns out that most of the SM's don't attend the cadet meetings for various reasons. The ones that do are those that are tasked with giving the many lessons. I will try to get to the first senior member meeting next month to get a better idea of just who I will be dealing with.
Trying Something New
This will be the start of a new chapter in my aviation "career." Due to the inherent connection between this new endeavor and my flight training and subsequent private pilot exploits, I thought that adding it here would make the most sense. For that matter, since I haven't been doing any flying lately, this gives me a good chance to contribute some additional insights.
First off, I have always been interested in aviation. But only recently have I become more aware of it as an economic and political force (or perhaps pawn). In any case, I believe that any political advance starts with having the particular activity in question be an ingrained part of society. For instance, the ongoing health care debate exists in part because we have become so accustomed to a certain standard of living and care. We can't imagine going backwards.
Apparently, this is not the case with aviation, either general or airline. Outdated technology, low pay, and some pretty awful working conditions constantly amaze and worry me -- how did the industry get to this point? Since I'm far from an expert on such matters, I thought I'd explore what avenues were available to educate and enlighten.
There are actually more options than I had thought, but after looking into one in particular, I decided I'd check it out in person: the Civil Air Patrol. If you are an aviator of some advanced years, you may already know something of this organization. For myself, though definitely not as young as I once was, I know very little. It's something out of the fifties isn't it?
In the back of my mind, I have an idea to turn this little escapade into a running article for a publication like AOPA or EAA. That remains to be seen. For now, I wanted to keep a running journal of the experience, since it looks like a valuable, though perhaps underutilized, asset to aviation.
I look forward to finding out more about the group, and joining if it looks like the time commitment will work with my schedule. I hope you'll enjoy learning a bit more about it as well. Let's go!
First off, I have always been interested in aviation. But only recently have I become more aware of it as an economic and political force (or perhaps pawn). In any case, I believe that any political advance starts with having the particular activity in question be an ingrained part of society. For instance, the ongoing health care debate exists in part because we have become so accustomed to a certain standard of living and care. We can't imagine going backwards.
Apparently, this is not the case with aviation, either general or airline. Outdated technology, low pay, and some pretty awful working conditions constantly amaze and worry me -- how did the industry get to this point? Since I'm far from an expert on such matters, I thought I'd explore what avenues were available to educate and enlighten.
There are actually more options than I had thought, but after looking into one in particular, I decided I'd check it out in person: the Civil Air Patrol. If you are an aviator of some advanced years, you may already know something of this organization. For myself, though definitely not as young as I once was, I know very little. It's something out of the fifties isn't it?
In the back of my mind, I have an idea to turn this little escapade into a running article for a publication like AOPA or EAA. That remains to be seen. For now, I wanted to keep a running journal of the experience, since it looks like a valuable, though perhaps underutilized, asset to aviation.
I look forward to finding out more about the group, and joining if it looks like the time commitment will work with my schedule. I hope you'll enjoy learning a bit more about it as well. Let's go!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Incursion Excursion
Today was a day of “finalies”. Mostly, I was finally able to go flying again after a three-month hiatus. Even better was that I was finally able to fly in my hometown of San Diego. Better than that, I was able to fly with my mom, in the plane that she is flying in her own training. Better than that, was that the plane is a four-seat Piper Cherokee, so I was able to add another checkout to my logbook. Better than that was the experience of flying in a completely different environment, with challenging terrain and busy Class B over our heads. But as if that weren’t enough, it was also a picture-perfect Southern California morning, with calm winds, clear sky, and temperatures in the 60’s at KSEE. In the “it’s always something” department, however, I forgot to put my GPS in my bag, so I didn’t get to put the track in my collection. Nevertheless I made up for this by having the flight indelibly imprinted on my memory…
The first job was two-fold: to fly with the instructor and get a sign-off for the Cherokee, and to run through my three takeoffs and landings, since it’s been exactly three months (I would have to count individual days to see if I really was over 90, but close enough). With the instructor, Mom was able to fly along in the back seat, so that was pretty cool, too. This went very similarly to my checkout in the 172, but with a bit more emphasis on navigating the environment due to the tight airspace and terrain. We only did one stall, then some steep turns. Since I haven’t done any since my checkride, and since it was such a trial just getting to that point before, I figured it would be interesting to see the results – in an unfamiliar plane no less. It turned out better than I would have expected, and there was a bit of turbulence, so the fact that I 
was a bit wobbly and lost about 150 feet was good enough. The main focus then was to navigate the high terrain and busy airspace of KSEE.
It should come as very little surprise that I carried too much altitude into my first approach (which, of course, in an unfamiliar plane, was a long final rather than a standard pattern). Rather than let it play out, as I may have in Bozeman with 9,000 feet to work with, the 2,700 foot 27L at Gillespie would not be as forgiving. A go-around was definitely in order, though it would not be the only one of the day. The next try, with a full pattern, was much smoother. The biggest physical difference when flying this particular plane was the manual flaps. The toughest part is the initial reach way down to the floor for the first “notch” of flaps, but once the handle is up, it’s not all that different. Think of it as a large parking brake handle with three specific locking detents – just pull up to lower the flaps.As we were coming in on short final for the third landing, the completely unexpected – and illegal – happened. Luckily, with the instructor in front, we reacted quicker than I may have on my own. At just about 200 feet AGL, a plane on the ground entered the runway – our runway! – and took off. We aborted the approach and slid over to the left. At this point, it made sense to transfer control, since the instructor could then still see the violator. Another complicating factor was that the plane that we were otherwise supposed to be following had completed its touch and go, and was now going to begin turning back toward us. We chose to turn in front of him, as we still had enough room, but he was rapidly closing in. In the meantime, the controller was berating the violator and trying to straighten out the mess. Although it could have gotten much uglier, everyone managed to keep a clear head and work the problem. The moral for me was that you really do have to be ready for anything. Both the instructor and I had noticed the runway incursion at the same moment, but he was quicker to recognize that the approach was thereby immediately terminated. I took an extra second to stare in disbelief that someone was pulling out in front of us. The other challenge was that we were then boxed in between a parallel runway to our right, the violator below us who would be climbing up toward us, and the aircraft in front of us. It took some quick thinking, and the instructor was on the ball. As we came back around, we requested a switch to 27R to change it up a bit and do a right-hand pattern. This requires a slightly different approach (ha!) due to a mountain being right where you would normally fly the base leg. It turned out okay, and the instructor was ready to send us on our way. Compared to the first hop, the sightseeing portion was uneventful. The San Diego Class B has several VFR corridors through which we could transition the area, and with the numerous landmarks, it was fairly easy to navigate. I tried to monitor some of the tower frequencies as we moved along toward the coastline, but it finally got to be too much chatter and not enough useful information. The best course of action was to simply keep eyes outside. We turned north and followed the beach at 4,500 feet all the way up to Palomar. The instructor had pointed out in our pre-flight briefing that the corridors are set up to allow two “levels” of VFR traffic in each direction – 3,500 and 5,500 for southbound, 4,500 and 6,500 for northbound. This results in the Class B volume dropping off significantly as we got out over the water and out of the controllers’ reach. As we descended and turned around, I looked up the SoCal approach frequency. I’ve taken a liking to having the controller at least know who I am, even if it turns out that they’re too busy to actually provide flight following. Although the VFR corridor doesn’t technically require communication with ATC, by contacting them they can at least assign a discrete transponder code and then know your N-number in case there’s any need to communicate. In any case, at least I can advise of my intentions so there’s less guesswork if they have a traffic conflict. Call it maximizing the use of my available resources. In this case, the frequency was quite busy, and the first controller I spoke to turned me over to another sector for flight following. This one was also busy, and I had made the decision to simply proceed outside the Class B and forget the whole idea. Of course, that’s when there was sudden silence for a good ten seconds. Plenty of time. I gave it a shot and advised of our plan to remain in the VFR corridor, inbound to Gillespie. They provided a squawk code and altitude restriction, along with a timely traffic advisory for a plane in the opposite direction.
The rest of the flight was smooth, even though the sun was starting to throw up some thermals. The minor bumps really weren’t any worse than what we have up in Montana, but kept us bouncing as we arrived into the Gillespie pattern. After another mostly-smooth landing, we called it a day. It is probably fitting that Mom is now my most "frequent flier" with me.
was a bit wobbly and lost about 150 feet was good enough. The main focus then was to navigate the high terrain and busy airspace of KSEE.
It should come as very little surprise that I carried too much altitude into my first approach (which, of course, in an unfamiliar plane, was a long final rather than a standard pattern). Rather than let it play out, as I may have in Bozeman with 9,000 feet to work with, the 2,700 foot 27L at Gillespie would not be as forgiving. A go-around was definitely in order, though it would not be the only one of the day. The next try, with a full pattern, was much smoother. The biggest physical difference when flying this particular plane was the manual flaps. The toughest part is the initial reach way down to the floor for the first “notch” of flaps, but once the handle is up, it’s not all that different. Think of it as a large parking brake handle with three specific locking detents – just pull up to lower the flaps.As we were coming in on short final for the third landing, the completely unexpected – and illegal – happened. Luckily, with the instructor in front, we reacted quicker than I may have on my own. At just about 200 feet AGL, a plane on the ground entered the runway – our runway! – and took off. We aborted the approach and slid over to the left. At this point, it made sense to transfer control, since the instructor could then still see the violator. Another complicating factor was that the plane that we were otherwise supposed to be following had completed its touch and go, and was now going to begin turning back toward us. We chose to turn in front of him, as we still had enough room, but he was rapidly closing in. In the meantime, the controller was berating the violator and trying to straighten out the mess. Although it could have gotten much uglier, everyone managed to keep a clear head and work the problem. The moral for me was that you really do have to be ready for anything. Both the instructor and I had noticed the runway incursion at the same moment, but he was quicker to recognize that the approach was thereby immediately terminated. I took an extra second to stare in disbelief that someone was pulling out in front of us. The other challenge was that we were then boxed in between a parallel runway to our right, the violator below us who would be climbing up toward us, and the aircraft in front of us. It took some quick thinking, and the instructor was on the ball. As we came back around, we requested a switch to 27R to change it up a bit and do a right-hand pattern. This requires a slightly different approach (ha!) due to a mountain being right where you would normally fly the base leg. It turned out okay, and the instructor was ready to send us on our way. Compared to the first hop, the sightseeing portion was uneventful. The San Diego Class B has several VFR corridors through which we could transition the area, and with the numerous landmarks, it was fairly easy to navigate. I tried to monitor some of the tower frequencies as we moved along toward the coastline, but it finally got to be too much chatter and not enough useful information. The best course of action was to simply keep eyes outside. We turned north and followed the beach at 4,500 feet all the way up to Palomar. The instructor had pointed out in our pre-flight briefing that the corridors are set up to allow two “levels” of VFR traffic in each direction – 3,500 and 5,500 for southbound, 4,500 and 6,500 for northbound. This results in the Class B volume dropping off significantly as we got out over the water and out of the controllers’ reach. As we descended and turned around, I looked up the SoCal approach frequency. I’ve taken a liking to having the controller at least know who I am, even if it turns out that they’re too busy to actually provide flight following. Although the VFR corridor doesn’t technically require communication with ATC, by contacting them they can at least assign a discrete transponder code and then know your N-number in case there’s any need to communicate. In any case, at least I can advise of my intentions so there’s less guesswork if they have a traffic conflict. Call it maximizing the use of my available resources. In this case, the frequency was quite busy, and the first controller I spoke to turned me over to another sector for flight following. This one was also busy, and I had made the decision to simply proceed outside the Class B and forget the whole idea. Of course, that’s when there was sudden silence for a good ten seconds. Plenty of time. I gave it a shot and advised of our plan to remain in the VFR corridor, inbound to Gillespie. They provided a squawk code and altitude restriction, along with a timely traffic advisory for a plane in the opposite direction.
The rest of the flight was smooth, even though the sun was starting to throw up some thermals. The minor bumps really weren’t any worse than what we have up in Montana, but kept us bouncing as we arrived into the Gillespie pattern. After another mostly-smooth landing, we called it a day. It is probably fitting that Mom is now my most "frequent flier" with me.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Flight Awareness
So, it's not a flying day (yet), but in my preparation for a short flight tomorrow [Ed: which I ended up not taking due to weather], I was poking around the FlightAware website. The main interest was to see if the planes I rent get used for IFR flight. The idea is that I perceive some kind of minimum aircraft reliability for such flights, though it probably isn't warranted. In the long run, it's more for personal interest than anything else.
My search took a turn when I pulled up the history for N46474, the plane I flew down to Laramie last time. Lo and behold, there was my track! How could this be?? I thought FlightAware only tracked IFR flight plans. Turns out, since I had requested flight following (and, I assume, since it had been approved by ATC), I was in the system. Of course, there's always a caveat, and here is theirs:
Can FlightAware track VFR flights? What about a VFR flight with a flight plan? 
So, while you wouldn't stake your life on it (or even a fairly modest bet), it's a neat way to allow your coworkers to monitor your cross-country boondoggles. Even on this trip, though the track log seems to indicate a more-or-less complete trip, the graphical track is clearly lacking due to my lower-than-IFR altitude. The radar just can't see through mountains yet. The real comforting statement is that "VFR flight plans are irrelevant." Nice touch.
Some VFR aircraft with flight following are available on the position maps but it largely unreliable and no arrival/departure/flight plan data is available. VFR flight plans are irrelevant and only used by FSS for search and rescue. We suggest ensuring that aircraft are on an IFR flight plan from wheels up to wheels down for proper tracking.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Slow Boat to China, Part 2
After a hearty Denver omelette, with some extra buttery toast and hash browns with I-don't-know-what-kind-of grease (bacon?...mmmm good), it was time to load my extra 10 pounds back into the plane. This leg of the trip would be nearly identical to the trip down, but I still stayed low to gain at least a few more knots of speed.
Reaching the vicinity of Greybull, WY, I had to make another decision. I had to climb up to 10,500 if I wanted to be legal (and avoid some cumulo-granite), but I could also skirt the terrain and lengthen the trip a bit, which could also allow me to stay lower (below 3,000 above the ground). I wavered about whether to go east or west, and finally chose west again. Visualizing the flow of air around the mountains, the southeastern flanks were most likely producing some burbling downdrafts that I'd just as soon avoid.
Remarkably, as I climbed, the winds slackened a bit, and I finally broke 100 knots, but not for long. Mostly, it hung around 95. Better than before, anyway.
As I was enjoying my slow, smooth cruise, somewhere in here, the engine decided to keep me honest, and suddenly dropped about 50 RPM. This is a bit unusual. I have kept a watchful eye on the tachometer, since I have never had experience with carburetor ice, and wanted to catch even the slightest drop in power as soon as it occurred. I have read that often, pilots will not notice the drop, or sometimes will just add a bit of power to correct, without realizing the cause. So, when I hear and feel a 50 RPM flutter, I immediately pull the carb heat, push the mixture to full rich, and push the throttle to maintain my power. And then nothing.
If I had indeed had carb ice, there should have been some noticable sputtering and argument from the engine as water is melted into the cylinders. Then, the power should come back up to a normal setting, indicating that, most likely, the ice is cleared and the carb heat can be turned off. First off, the air today was very cold and dry, so icing should not have been a problem in the first place, and I'm not surprised that nothing came of the little incident. I was impressed that I reacted in a split second to what in truth was a minor change in the engine power. I probably could have done nothing and waited to see what would happen, but that's a dangerous choice if you really do have ice in there. Again, like the frost on the wing, most likely it would have turned out benign, but would I be prepared to defend my decision on the accident report? After a minute or so, I put everything back where it was, and the engine ran as if nothing had happened. A bit of water in the fuel? Who knows. But I was ready with a contingency plan if everything went bad.
The rest of the flight was uneventful until it came time for landing back in Billings. There were several planes in the pattern and arriving from outside. I requested the smaller runway more into the wind rather than take it from the side. It meant some careful spacing by the controller which, ultimately, did not work out. I probably was moving slower than he would have preferred, but all it required was a slow 360 out to the north of the field to come in and try again. This time, I was looking straight into the sun, so it was a challenge to squint for the runway and monitor my sink rate. I came in a bit high, but landed smoothly (story of my life).
All in all, a good trip with some new experiences and some new judgments that were needed to complete it successfully. There were probably lots of right answers, but luckily I didn't pick any of the wrong ones either.
Reaching the vicinity of Greybull, WY, I had to make another decision. I had to climb up to 10,500 if I wanted to be legal (and avoid some cumulo-granite), but I could also skirt the terrain and lengthen the trip a bit, which could also allow me to stay lower (below 3,000 above the ground). I wavered about whether to go east or west, and finally chose west again. Visualizing the flow of air around the mountains, the southeastern flanks were most likely producing some burbling downdrafts that I'd just as soon avoid.
Remarkably, as I climbed, the winds slackened a bit, and I finally broke 100 knots, but not for long. Mostly, it hung around 95. Better than before, anyway.
As I was enjoying my slow, smooth cruise, somewhere in here, the engine decided to keep me honest, and suddenly dropped about 50 RPM. This is a bit unusual. I have kept a watchful eye on the tachometer, since I have never had experience with carburetor ice, and wanted to catch even the slightest drop in power as soon as it occurred. I have read that often, pilots will not notice the drop, or sometimes will just add a bit of power to correct, without realizing the cause. So, when I hear and feel a 50 RPM flutter, I immediately pull the carb heat, push the mixture to full rich, and push the throttle to maintain my power. And then nothing.
If I had indeed had carb ice, there should have been some noticable sputtering and argument from the engine as water is melted into the cylinders. Then, the power should come back up to a normal setting, indicating that, most likely, the ice is cleared and the carb heat can be turned off. First off, the air today was very cold and dry, so icing should not have been a problem in the first place, and I'm not surprised that nothing came of the little incident. I was impressed that I reacted in a split second to what in truth was a minor change in the engine power. I probably could have done nothing and waited to see what would happen, but that's a dangerous choice if you really do have ice in there. Again, like the frost on the wing, most likely it would have turned out benign, but would I be prepared to defend my decision on the accident report? After a minute or so, I put everything back where it was, and the engine ran as if nothing had happened. A bit of water in the fuel? Who knows. But I was ready with a contingency plan if everything went bad.
The rest of the flight was uneventful until it came time for landing back in Billings. There were several planes in the pattern and arriving from outside. I requested the smaller runway more into the wind rather than take it from the side. It meant some careful spacing by the controller which, ultimately, did not work out. I probably was moving slower than he would have preferred, but all it required was a slow 360 out to the north of the field to come in and try again. This time, I was looking straight into the sun, so it was a challenge to squint for the runway and monitor my sink rate. I came in a bit high, but landed smoothly (story of my life).
All in all, a good trip with some new experiences and some new judgments that were needed to complete it successfully. There were probably lots of right answers, but luckily I didn't pick any of the wrong ones either.
Slow Boat to China, Part 1
As before, the weather forecasters have it in for me. What was supposed to be lighter winds today ended up being about the same as the last couple days. Namely, 30 to 40 knot northerly winds that turned the return trip into a 5-hour, 2-leg journey. The only redeeming factor, weather-wise, was that there was no turbulence whatsoever. For sailing upstream with a groundspeed in the 85 knot range, it was surprisingly smooth.
The funny part was that I ran a hypothetical flight plan yesterday, with the winds skipping along, and laughed at how long the trip would take, thinking, "Well, at least it's supposed to be better when I'm actually flying." No way. I charted, plotted, calculated, ciphered, and drew strange symbols on my charts, wondering what it would take to get the forecast I was promised. To no avail.
I ended up with two basic choices of routing. One that took me east, which kept me alongside the terrain but in a turbulence AIRMET. The other was more like my trip down, over some higher terrain, but toward a higher density of airfields, all of which had calm surface winds as well - and no indication of turbulence. In my first judgment of the day, I decided that I would make the flight, plan on a fuel stop whether I needed it or not, and pause during my climb to cruise to assess the winds at different altitudes. It was only the first of several decisions I had to make on the fly today.
Preflight went smoothly, except for a little thing that I haven't had to deal with before -- frost on the wings. Many pilots apparently manage to ask, "How much is too much?" But really, according to the safety data, it isn't a question. If you can see and feel it, it is theoretically enough to disrupt the airflow over the wing. Enough to affect the flight? I don't know, and I'm not interested in being a test pilot. Hence, an extra ten minutes to warm the ice with my hands and wipe it off.
I noticed that the tail section did not have any frost, and that it tended to be along certain portions of the wing. I'm guessing that the metal was heating up in the sun, but the fuel in the tanks was still below freezing, which kept the ice in place. As with many things in flying, there was probably a 99% chance that this barely perceptible ice would have not caused any problems. But as I've read elsewhere, a good rule is to imagine how your decisions would look on the accident report IF anything (ANYthing!) were to go wrong. I don't want to have to explain why I'm such an expert that I decided that I could fly with ice on the wings....
As I returned the borrowed ladder to the fuel truck, I heard some radio traffic from a plane in the pattern and some ground vehicles. Apparently, there was some maintenance work on one of the runways (of course, the one I was originally planning on using) and that it would be closed for a couple of hours. In my case, this wasn't anything more than an inconvenience, since the winds were calm and I would just have to taxi farther away to get to the other runway.
I took off, and climbed to 9,500 feet, leveled off, and saw that the winds were already doing around 25 knots. Unfortunately, this was as low as I felt like flying at this point, only about 2,500 feet above the ground. As I arrived at my first waypoint, Medicine Bow VOR, I again tried something new. I contacted FlightWatch on 122.0 and asked about conditions to either side of the mountains directly in front of me. The turbulence AIRMET was still active, and so I asked about the current conditions at Riverton, WY. With calm winds on the surface there, I decided to go west. It meant a climb up to 10,000 or 10,500 and flying over some spinning wind turbines, but it turned out smooth, if slow. I was down to 80 knots groundspeed in a few spots. It felt like I was standing still. It was nevertheless a much better flight than the last time I had such a strong headwind on a cross-country flight.
I poked along and finally reached my fuel stop at Riverton. Again, some judgment was in order. Theoretically, I could have probably streteched the flight all the way to Billings. Though slow, my speed was still a bit higher than predicted by the flight planning. Would the winds aloft stay that way? What if it turned out I couldn't make it -- where was the next fuel? It was a good exercise, but I had made up my mind beforehand anyway. Best to stop, gas up, eat, and be less fatigued on the final leg.
The funny part was that I ran a hypothetical flight plan yesterday, with the winds skipping along, and laughed at how long the trip would take, thinking, "Well, at least it's supposed to be better when I'm actually flying." No way. I charted, plotted, calculated, ciphered, and drew strange symbols on my charts, wondering what it would take to get the forecast I was promised. To no avail.
I ended up with two basic choices of routing. One that took me east, which kept me alongside the terrain but in a turbulence AIRMET. The other was more like my trip down, over some higher terrain, but toward a higher density of airfields, all of which had calm surface winds as well - and no indication of turbulence. In my first judgment of the day, I decided that I would make the flight, plan on a fuel stop whether I needed it or not, and pause during my climb to cruise to assess the winds at different altitudes. It was only the first of several decisions I had to make on the fly today.
Preflight went smoothly, except for a little thing that I haven't had to deal with before -- frost on the wings. Many pilots apparently manage to ask, "How much is too much?" But really, according to the safety data, it isn't a question. If you can see and feel it, it is theoretically enough to disrupt the airflow over the wing. Enough to affect the flight? I don't know, and I'm not interested in being a test pilot. Hence, an extra ten minutes to warm the ice with my hands and wipe it off.
I noticed that the tail section did not have any frost, and that it tended to be along certain portions of the wing. I'm guessing that the metal was heating up in the sun, but the fuel in the tanks was still below freezing, which kept the ice in place. As with many things in flying, there was probably a 99% chance that this barely perceptible ice would have not caused any problems. But as I've read elsewhere, a good rule is to imagine how your decisions would look on the accident report IF anything (ANYthing!) were to go wrong. I don't want to have to explain why I'm such an expert that I decided that I could fly with ice on the wings....
As I returned the borrowed ladder to the fuel truck, I heard some radio traffic from a plane in the pattern and some ground vehicles. Apparently, there was some maintenance work on one of the runways (of course, the one I was originally planning on using) and that it would be closed for a couple of hours. In my case, this wasn't anything more than an inconvenience, since the winds were calm and I would just have to taxi farther away to get to the other runway.
I took off, and climbed to 9,500 feet, leveled off, and saw that the winds were already doing around 25 knots. Unfortunately, this was as low as I felt like flying at this point, only about 2,500 feet above the ground. As I arrived at my first waypoint, Medicine Bow VOR, I again tried something new. I contacted FlightWatch on 122.0 and asked about conditions to either side of the mountains directly in front of me. The turbulence AIRMET was still active, and so I asked about the current conditions at Riverton, WY. With calm winds on the surface there, I decided to go west. It meant a climb up to 10,000 or 10,500 and flying over some spinning wind turbines, but it turned out smooth, if slow. I was down to 80 knots groundspeed in a few spots. It felt like I was standing still. It was nevertheless a much better flight than the last time I had such a strong headwind on a cross-country flight.
I poked along and finally reached my fuel stop at Riverton. Again, some judgment was in order. Theoretically, I could have probably streteched the flight all the way to Billings. Though slow, my speed was still a bit higher than predicted by the flight planning. Would the winds aloft stay that way? What if it turned out I couldn't make it -- where was the next fuel? It was a good exercise, but I had made up my mind beforehand anyway. Best to stop, gas up, eat, and be less fatigued on the final leg.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Out Yonder
Eventually, cross country trips need to cover some new ground. While my past ones have at least been over territory that I am familiar with from the surface, this trip was into "uncharted" territory. New mountain ranges, new towns, and into Denver Center ARTCC sectors.
If flying is indeed hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror, this flight may rank fairly high. We weren't in code "red", but at least orange. 99% of the flight, from Billings, over Thermopolis, and into Laramie, was uneventful. Yesterday's forecast that showed mild winds apparently wasn't good enough for the flying gods today. I looked it up this morning and saw 20 knot wind predicted for this afternoon in Laramie. Blah. That blows.
What it did do, however, was give me a nice tailwind for a good part of the trip, and while the big iron was slogging it out above 35,000 feet, begging ATC for any relief from the turbulence, I was happily cruising along at 9,500 in fairly smooth air. Just a few burbles from nearby mountains until I was about 60 miles from Laramie. Then it came apart.
I was picking up some pretty good bounces, and climbed up to 10,500 to see if that would clear it up. It was a bit better, but by this time, I was starting to need to descend. And then, the happy news on the weather report -- winds 32, gusting 40! Well, at least it was right down runway 30. I had to quickly get things squared away, since my groundspeed at this point was around 140 knots. What usually would have been a fairly liesurely descent was accelerated, and the winds weren't changing on the surface.
There was one plane flying touch and go's (!) in the wind, so I figured it couldn't be too bad. I was trying to evaluate whether I should use all, some, or none of the flaps on approach, but time was running out. I was scooting along like the dickens.
I flew one of the fastest patterns I think I've ever done, and as I got turned on final, I had to keep medium power just to keep making forward progress. To heck with the flaps. I could land at 80 knots if I had to and still be at a reasonable groundspeed. I dropped a bit in the gusts only about 1/4 mile from the runway, but still had good control, and I just kept power on, with a close eye on my airspeed and vertical speed. As I crossed the threshold, power came to idle, and I was ready to go around, since I was bobbling pretty good. I floated a bit, but touched down soft and a little fast. Enough for a couple of low hops, but keeping the nose up got me slowed down fairly quickly.
As if that weren't enough, I had to taxi at a snail's pace toward the ramp as the wind buffeted the plane and tried to weathervane me into the weeds a couple of times. I parked and shut down the engine, but still felt as if we would lift of again with the winds ripping over the field.
This was a good lesson in keeping your options open (where would I go if I couldn't land in the wind?), knowing the airplane (I was attempting a no-flap landing in a plane I had never landed in that configuration), and being ready for the unexpected (those were some fierce gusts). Luckily, it was virtually a no-crosswind condition, or things could have turned out different.
Now that all is done for the day, I can work on preparing for the flight home.
If flying is indeed hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror, this flight may rank fairly high. We weren't in code "red", but at least orange. 99% of the flight, from Billings, over Thermopolis, and into Laramie, was uneventful. Yesterday's forecast that showed mild winds apparently wasn't good enough for the flying gods today. I looked it up this morning and saw 20 knot wind predicted for this afternoon in Laramie. Blah. That blows.
What it did do, however, was give me a nice tailwind for a good part of the trip, and while the big iron was slogging it out above 35,000 feet, begging ATC for any relief from the turbulence, I was happily cruising along at 9,500 in fairly smooth air. Just a few burbles from nearby mountains until I was about 60 miles from Laramie. Then it came apart.
I was picking up some pretty good bounces, and climbed up to 10,500 to see if that would clear it up. It was a bit better, but by this time, I was starting to need to descend. And then, the happy news on the weather report -- winds 32, gusting 40! Well, at least it was right down runway 30. I had to quickly get things squared away, since my groundspeed at this point was around 140 knots. What usually would have been a fairly liesurely descent was accelerated, and the winds weren't changing on the surface.
There was one plane flying touch and go's (!) in the wind, so I figured it couldn't be too bad. I was trying to evaluate whether I should use all, some, or none of the flaps on approach, but time was running out. I was scooting along like the dickens.
I flew one of the fastest patterns I think I've ever done, and as I got turned on final, I had to keep medium power just to keep making forward progress. To heck with the flaps. I could land at 80 knots if I had to and still be at a reasonable groundspeed. I dropped a bit in the gusts only about 1/4 mile from the runway, but still had good control, and I just kept power on, with a close eye on my airspeed and vertical speed. As I crossed the threshold, power came to idle, and I was ready to go around, since I was bobbling pretty good. I floated a bit, but touched down soft and a little fast. Enough for a couple of low hops, but keeping the nose up got me slowed down fairly quickly.
As if that weren't enough, I had to taxi at a snail's pace toward the ramp as the wind buffeted the plane and tried to weathervane me into the weeds a couple of times. I parked and shut down the engine, but still felt as if we would lift of again with the winds ripping over the field.
This was a good lesson in keeping your options open (where would I go if I couldn't land in the wind?), knowing the airplane (I was attempting a no-flap landing in a plane I had never landed in that configuration), and being ready for the unexpected (those were some fierce gusts). Luckily, it was virtually a no-crosswind condition, or things could have turned out different.
Now that all is done for the day, I can work on preparing for the flight home.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
A Little Practice
Today's flight was intended to bang the rust off in preparation for a cross-country flight tomorrow to Laramie, Wyoming. Though the winds were a bit higher than forecast yesterday, it wasn't too bad, and in fact was smooth enough that my 5-year old son got to ride along. I had made a plan to do some ground reference and miscellaneous other work to stay sharp, but decided to stay upwind of the airport in case it got too bumpy and I had to make a quick escape. This put me over more populated areas rather than the normal practice area, so I improvised a bit to make it a sightseeing trip and a few touch-and-go's rather than spinning around in circles.
It turned out not to be as bumpy as I thought, though there was still quite a bit of wind aloft. Since it's been so long since my last flight (and I'm still getting used to the Cessna 172), I decided to minimize my crosswind work on takeoff and used the smaller runway 25 rather than the primary 28R. It meant I had to taxi along a route I had never used before, and almost made a wrong turn, but the ground controller kept me on the right track.
With a 15-knot wind, liftoff was pretty quick. We had a few bumps climbing up to 6,500 feet, but it smoothed out after we got away from the sharp terrain around the field. We passed and circled back around the city to the west. Even though I was technically outside the Class C airspace, the controller let me keep my transponder code and I stayed on frequency with him. I don't know if he was able to do this since it was pretty slow today, or just because I had told him what I was doing (namely, sightseeing). Probably a combination of both.
We cruised along for a bit, found our house, flew over an oil refinery, along the Yellowstone River, and then came back into town. Since the wind was still up a bit, I requested a touch-and-go on Runway 25 again. This was interesting, since I didn't have a good view of the runway, and was used to aiming for the end of 28R, which is a 1/2 mile away from the 25 threshold. So, as I was cleared into the pattern, I was doing a bit of hunting to figure out how to get set up right and fighting the shifting winds as I descended. When I looked back at my GPS track though, I actually was just right, it just didn't feel that good.
I carried a bit of extra speed into the approach for the gusty headwind and had about 15 degrees of flaps rather than 20, the normal landing setting. That's one nice thing about the Cessna flaps -- you have more flexibility to set them for what "feels" right for the conditions. 20 degrees would have had me sinking too fast, but 10 would have had me floating a bit too much on touchdown. The landing had a bit of a hop, but nothing huge. I started to put the coals back to it, and then remembered, "carb heat!", and took an extra second to get set right.
Since there were only a couple of other aircraft around today, I requested another touch-and-go on 25. This was approved, but now I had to decide how to fly the pattern on a slightly skewed runway with traffic intended for the main one. It became clear that flying a normal pattern would not interfere with the other planes, so that was what I did. This time, I flew a normal downwind, base, and final, and had a bit smoother approach. Still a bit of extra speed, but came in nice and soft.
Of course, now, trying to remember to shut off the carb heat before adding power had its own consequences -- I forgot to raise the flaps. I didn't notice a lot of difference on climbout, but as soon as I tried to level off, it was apparent that something was not right. In a way, this was a good experience, since I now know that in an emergency, I can add power and deal with the flaps (carefully) after stabilizing the flight. In this case, I got everything straightened out as I was on downwind, and with the winds dying down a bit, I selected the main runway 28R to better stay with the flow.
Now that I was juggling the shift to the different runway, I forgot to put the carb heat on before reducing the throttle. It's always something.
When all was said and done, the time away from flying clearly takes its toll. While never in any dangerous position, and though I wouldn't say I was "behind the airplane", I need to ingrain the habits I need for the Cessna the same way that I have in the DA-20. I was at least with it enough to realize my errors in time, and could effectively deal with them without putting the flight in jeopardy. I suppose that is the key.
In a final bit of irony, the whole reason for flying to day was to prepare for a cross-country, but it turns out I will fly a different plane tomorrow anyway. That's aviation for you.
It turned out not to be as bumpy as I thought, though there was still quite a bit of wind aloft. Since it's been so long since my last flight (and I'm still getting used to the Cessna 172), I decided to minimize my crosswind work on takeoff and used the smaller runway 25 rather than the primary 28R. It meant I had to taxi along a route I had never used before, and almost made a wrong turn, but the ground controller kept me on the right track.
With a 15-knot wind, liftoff was pretty quick. We had a few bumps climbing up to 6,500 feet, but it smoothed out after we got away from the sharp terrain around the field. We passed and circled back around the city to the west. Even though I was technically outside the Class C airspace, the controller let me keep my transponder code and I stayed on frequency with him. I don't know if he was able to do this since it was pretty slow today, or just because I had told him what I was doing (namely, sightseeing). Probably a combination of both.
We cruised along for a bit, found our house, flew over an oil refinery, along the Yellowstone River, and then came back into town. Since the wind was still up a bit, I requested a touch-and-go on Runway 25 again. This was interesting, since I didn't have a good view of the runway, and was used to aiming for the end of 28R, which is a 1/2 mile away from the 25 threshold. So, as I was cleared into the pattern, I was doing a bit of hunting to figure out how to get set up right and fighting the shifting winds as I descended. When I looked back at my GPS track though, I actually was just right, it just didn't feel that good.
I carried a bit of extra speed into the approach for the gusty headwind and had about 15 degrees of flaps rather than 20, the normal landing setting. That's one nice thing about the Cessna flaps -- you have more flexibility to set them for what "feels" right for the conditions. 20 degrees would have had me sinking too fast, but 10 would have had me floating a bit too much on touchdown. The landing had a bit of a hop, but nothing huge. I started to put the coals back to it, and then remembered, "carb heat!", and took an extra second to get set right.
Since there were only a couple of other aircraft around today, I requested another touch-and-go on 25. This was approved, but now I had to decide how to fly the pattern on a slightly skewed runway with traffic intended for the main one. It became clear that flying a normal pattern would not interfere with the other planes, so that was what I did. This time, I flew a normal downwind, base, and final, and had a bit smoother approach. Still a bit of extra speed, but came in nice and soft.
Of course, now, trying to remember to shut off the carb heat before adding power had its own consequences -- I forgot to raise the flaps. I didn't notice a lot of difference on climbout, but as soon as I tried to level off, it was apparent that something was not right. In a way, this was a good experience, since I now know that in an emergency, I can add power and deal with the flaps (carefully) after stabilizing the flight. In this case, I got everything straightened out as I was on downwind, and with the winds dying down a bit, I selected the main runway 28R to better stay with the flow.
Now that I was juggling the shift to the different runway, I forgot to put the carb heat on before reducing the throttle. It's always something.
When all was said and done, the time away from flying clearly takes its toll. While never in any dangerous position, and though I wouldn't say I was "behind the airplane", I need to ingrain the habits I need for the Cessna the same way that I have in the DA-20. I was at least with it enough to realize my errors in time, and could effectively deal with them without putting the flight in jeopardy. I suppose that is the key.
In a final bit of irony, the whole reason for flying to day was to prepare for a cross-country, but it turns out I will fly a different plane tomorrow anyway. That's aviation for you.
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