As expected, today's flight was an exercise in new experiences. My instructor asked at the end, "Did you learn anything?" I answered, "Well maybe not so much learn, as was reminded of things that I should already know, but wasn't that good at executing." You know, things like landings and stalls. But afterward, I realized that I really did learn a few things. It's one of the big benefits of flying with someone new - a different style, different pet peeves, and just simply a different view of what makes a good pilot. So it was today. The weather couldn't have been better, especially for this part of the world and this time of year. Rain, fog, wind, and thunderstorms are regular companions of outdoor activities. And for most of the week, that had been the case. But this morning was clear and cool, with a light breeze and just some high scattered clouds.
The airport sits just outside of Calgary, and caters to general aviation, charter, agriculture, and flight training. But its proximity to the larger field means there is some complicated airspace and several controllers to get you in and out. Today's flight was in a standard Cessna 172. Standard in this case really means a stock airframe with instruments and radios right out of 1970. This means busy radio work to switch from one frequency to the next. Also, no GPS in this plane, similar to a prior flight. This time though, I depended on my instructor's familiarity with the area to keep us on track. And this is an interesting point.
In order to fly as Pilot In Command, I need to be current and have my medical certificate in my possession. But that's just in the U.S., or a U.S.-registered plane in Canada. To fly a Canadian-registered plane requires paperwork at the very least. Today, without said paperwork nor my medical, my instructor was technically our PIC. But as we discussed the situation, he made it clear: "I'm in charge on paper only. You are in command of this flight." And that's as it should be. The point of the flight was to refresh some of my skills and practice. If I felt like I could fall back on the instructor's expertise, it probably wouldn't be as effective.
That said, he obviously would not let the flight get to a bad place. Far from it, the two hours we spent flying a short cross-country to Red Deer, AB had such a variety of little experiences, I never would have anticipated them beforehand. After a normal preflight inspection, we hopped in the plane and went over a few details of the departure. The engine fired up on the first shot - something not always guaranteed with an old carbureted piston powerplant. I called up the ground controller and received our clearance to taxi. As we made our way to the runway, the instructor and I heard something neither of us had ever heard before over an aircraft radio.
A few planes were in the pattern (or, as the rest of the world says, the "circuit") and one had just landed. As it was taxiing toward us, he received a call from the controller. Pilots and controllers get used to the pace of the transmissions, and the timing of the calls back and forth. So it's very noticeable when something is different. In this case, the controller had a stutterer on his hands. When transmissions are measured in seconds, especially in busy airspace, I could see how such a condition could be a hurdle to a smooth flow. Now, with just a couple of planes on the ground, it was no big deal.
Cleared for take off, we departed to the north using IFR - "I Follow Roads". The flight to Red Deer took just under an hour, and I can't remember a smoother flight. In the U.S., if you fly VFR you can go quite a while without hearing anyone on the radio. Unless you request flight following, when you need to remain on the frequency with a controller, there is no requirement to be in contact with anyone - indeed to even have a radio at all. It's similar in Canada, with the exception that they have an "en route" frequency. It's not for air traffic control, but more like a party line for anyone flying in the vicinity. Even though you might not be anywhere near the traffic, you hear someone calling in every few minutes stating where they are, what they're doing, and what direction they're going. It made for quite a bit of chatter during our flight, but we managed to fit in some small talk between transmissions.
My instructor is a 23-year-old from the area who had aspirations to fly the Space Shuttle. Unfortunately, while several Canadians have flown on the shuttle as mission specialists, none has ever flown as a pilot. Apparently, NASA requires a few things that Canadians aren't able to provide - such as U.S. military service or other similar piloting work that is restricted to U.S. citizens. I never knew that before. Arriving to Red Deer, we did a quick touch-and-go. And it really was quick. I flew the approach a bit fast, and with no flaps. Why? Because I hesitated with the initial flap deployment, and as we turned final, rather than change configurations, I opted to maintain a relatively stable glide. It was a case of the instructor keeping quiet and letting me make the best (or worst) of a situation - as long as we were never in danger - rather than jump in. And that is indeed a sign of a good instructor.
On the way back to Calgary, we mixed in some airwork - stalls, steep turns, an emergency descent, and a couple of things that aren't on any private pilot lesson plan. "Have you ever done a negative-G pushover?" my instructor asks. Now, I've seen some videos of this done and I understand the concept. There are some pretty dramatic examples out there - and plenty that I would never endorse, since they violate the rule of ensuring that everything in the cockpit is secure. Here's a good example that was very similar to what we did: Negative G Ours was pretty simple, and produced just about one second of weightlessness. We started from level flight and just pushed the nose down. My instructor had the controls and had me hold a pen in my hand, not unlike the video. It was pretty quick, so we did another one a bit stronger. Pretty fun, and yet another new experience for me.
The other non-standard thing we did was during the mock emergency descent. As every pilot does during primary training, the instructor will pull the power back and say, "Find us a landing spot." As I have done so many times before, I went through the checks that I would if the engine really had stopped: check the fuel, the mixture, the ignition, anything that might be the cause of the failure. Then, as in a real emergency, the pilot does what he can to prepare passengers for the landing. In this case, one of those things includes advising the passengers to be ready to unlatch and open the door so that it doesn't become jammed shut during impact. "Oh, like this?" says my instructor as he literally opens his door in mid-flight. "Nice," I say. It obviously caught me off guard for a second, but after having read about how much a non-event a door opening in flight is, it was quickly dismissed as we continued our mock emergency descent. I laughed, since I couldn't believe that someone would do that on purpose, but I was glad he did it, and told him so after landing. It was good to experience exactly what happens when a door comes open. In short: nothing. The slipstream keeps it closed, and he had to push pretty hard to show just how much force it would take to open it in flight. So with our "emergency" over, we went to steep turns.
Now, I have never done steep turns in a Cessna. And with my history of lackluster success, I didn't really know what to expect. But I had confidence that I could at least give it a good try, even though it's been two years since I had done them. In fact, they didn't turn out half bad. The plane was remarkably stable, and from my memory of the DA-20, probably more so than my training aircraft. So while I had some wobbly entries to the turns, they were respectable, and I know that with a few practice runs, I could pull them off with very little difficulty now. Then it was back to the starting point, and a soft-field landing. I hadn't done one of these for a very long time. Unfortunately, it wouldn't have mattered. Even though my speed was good, I floated a bit too long and sort of dropped it in since my sight picture isn't quite tuned to the 172's configuration. Good landing, but not exactly "soft". If it had been wet grass, I probably would have put it a bit into the mud. The flight was a great time for me and my instructor, as well. He had never seen a U.S. pilot certificate before, and though he has flown in the states, not too much more than I have now flown in Canada. The good news is that even with over a year since my last flight, I can still do it. But it will be some more hours with an instructor (and hopefully in the same plane) before I'm ready to really solo again.
