Totals This Page

Every pilot starts training with a log book.  It's required to keep track of lessons, hours flown, whether with an instructor or solo, instrument flying, and so forth.  The private certificate requires various numbers of hours in different categories, but once you become a pilot, you don't actually need to log every flight - just certain future endorsements, flight reviews every two years, and a few other bookkeeping necessities.  Unless aiming for an instrument rating or more advanced certificate, your flying is your own business, much as taking a boat out on the lake.

But many pilots do continue the habit of logging every flight - the type of aircraft, location, numbers of takeoffs and landings, hours, and any notable remarks.  Some do it just in case they want to advance further - then the hours are already counted and you don't have to start over.  Some do it more as a diary of progress and lessons learned.  I'm a little bit of both, and Page 6 of my logbook is now complete - revealing some interesting statistics.

It was capped off yesterday with a nice cross-country flight over Yellowstone National Park with my son.  With some time available and the weather looking much better than last time, I had my eye on doing some flying anyway.  But I also wanted to get out of the local area.  Since I was familiar with Helena, even though I hadn't flown there in a while (six years ago?!?), that was looking like a good option.  Even so, my eyes wandered south as well.  I've wanted to fly over Yellowstone for a while, but weather is a constant concern, as is flying around the mountains.  The peaks in the area rise to over 11,000 feet, and wind and sun conspire to make many flights here quite the roller-coasters.

But the forecast looked good.  Winds were predicted to stay calm, it was to be a warm day but we could get out in the morning, and it was completely clear.  I double-checked at the FBO when we picked up the plane, and they said "Go for it.  It's a good day for sure."  So the only real concern at that point was monitoring fuel.  This was going to be my longest flight since 2009's trip in a 172, but my DA-20 cross country flights go back almost exactly five years ago.  With so little flying in the interim, they really do seem like just yesterday.

Fuel burn was a non-issue.  At the high altitudes and medium power settings, the Diamond burns 5-6 gallons per hour.  And the flight itself - though proving to be a bit long for my younger passenger - was fairly smooth considering the terrain we were traversing.  I left it up to him for the most part.  We started with two touch-and-goes before heading over the hills, then skirted the highest terrain and crossed over West Yellowstone.  We could see the Geyser Basin well before reaching it, and even on this warm summer day could see steam rising from all over.  I knew from aerial photos that Grand Prismatic Spring might be a good landmark - and it definitely was!  I had no idea we would be able to spot it from over five miles away.

Yellowstone's Geyser Basin

The only other minor consideration for this flight was the restriction for flight above a National Park.

Inside the highlighted area, pilots are requested to remain at least 2,000 feet above the ground.  Flying over 8,000-foot terrain just north of Old Faithful, our altitude of 10,800 gave us a nice buffer, while still getting a good view of the geysers.

Overall, this was a very relaxing and worthwhile trip.  I got a few more landings in, we got to see Yellowstone from the air, I reinforced by abilities on cross-country trips, and my son and I got to spend a quality day together.  A good end to a very interesting page of the logbook.

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My log book has 13 entries per page.  The first three pages + two more lines (totaling 41 flights) covers seven months and arrives at my private pilot checkride.  Unsurprisingly, these are all done in one of three planes, all of the same make and model, and all within the "local" area.

In contrast, Page 6 alone spans three years, seven months, but with the following statistics:
Different aircraft flown:  11
Unique make/model flown:  4 (Diamond, Piper, Tecnam, Cessna)
Countries flown in:  3 (U.S., Canada, Australia)
Continents:  2
Biennial Flight Reviews done:  2
Number of different instructors flown with:  11
Number of solo flights (no instructor or passenger):  0

Squeaky Wheels

Many pilots refer to the ability to fly as being a balance between having enough time and money, usually with not enough of either.  Rarely enough of both.  In my case, it's more of a multivariable calculus problem that must account for odd project schedules, quickly changing Montana weather, oh, and of course, the local airport being under construction.

Since I had to fly home from work on a Friday and couldn't get into Billings, it meant I had a reason to be in Bozeman, which meant I had a 'reason' to go fly the Diamond again.  The fact that the family would be driving over for a trip to Yellowstone National Park didn't hurt either.  So I started watching the weather on Tuesday, and not seeing anything more significant than the typical afternoon thunderstorm forecast (you may as well forecast the sun to rise in Montana) I scheduled a plane for that Friday.

Then it all started to unravel.

First was the email from the flight school saying that I couldn't rent the plane solo without a Mountain Flying course.  This was only partially surprising.  Though I knew the school had been upping their safety policies, I didn't recall that particular point when I did my BFR two months ago.  Nonetheless, I didn't really worry too much about it, and wouldn't mind just scheduling some dual time instead, so I responded with a request to add an instructor to my appointment.

That's where things stood all the way up into Friday.  I flew out of Canada and kept an eye on the weather.  There was a bit of turbulence on the Airbus into Bozeman and the clouds were starting to build, but it still looked flyable.  Until I got on the ground and checked my phone - no instructors were available today.  I called back and since I was literally just a five-minute walk from the flight school, I would stop in anyway and see what we could work out.

Good news: my original flight training exempted me from the mountain flying requirement, since I'm familiarized with the area and the aircraft.  Bad news: I still can't solo since the school requires a dual flight every 30 days.  Worse news: the weather is going downhill fast.

We finally agree on a strategy.  If the weather breaks, a single pattern with an instructor will suffice given my history at the school.  At least, it will reset the 30-day clock and I can come back another time.  So we ponder the clouds, feel the wind, and squint at the radar picture online.  Finally, we decide to give it a go.  Out to the ramp and a quick preflight underway, then we smell the rain...and the wind picks up.  It's not a thunderstorm, but it's enough for a small plane to have a rough time of it.  "I don't know," says the instructor.  That's enough for me.  If the instructor has second thoughts, I don't want any part of it.  Back inside we go, and a good choice it was.  Eventually, the winds reached 45 knots across the runway.  No thanks.  I'll wait it out.

And I wasn't the only one.  A few other pilots and instructors were playing the same game, hoping for checkrides that depended on lighter winds and no heavy clouds.  After almost two hours, things started to look up.  The small, isolated showers had moved north and the winds weren't threatening to take the windsocks with them any longer.  "Quick!  Let's go!"

The instructor and I did a two-man preflight, each on one half of the plane. On the ground frequency, I requested a takoff "with one circuit and a full-stop."  "Circuit," says the instructor.  "Haven't heard that for a while."  "I flew in Australia and Canada..."  As before, my radio calls got the attention of the instructor.  "What a relief to hear someone who can talk on the radio."  Then off we went.

A little wobbly in the wind, but nothing like I would have expected given the gusts just an hour before.  Kept the correction into the crosswind all the way around, and though it was a quick circuit, er...pattern, it was good to get it done.  My last flight rebuilt some of the confidence I had lost down in Australia, and this one ended in the best way possible: the softest, barely perceptible landing.  The instructor commented back in the office, "Textbook doesn't quite capture how good that landing was."  Well, I'll take it.  I know better that my flying still has rusty spots, but it's nice to have a good day work out as well as this one did. 

I may have another chance to fly in the next couple of weeks, but even if not - next stop: Oshkosh!