Flight Training Journal

Fast Plane, Short Field

2011-12-04T01:15:00.007-07:00

December in Montana leaves much to be desired. It's below freezing, there's snow and ice on the ground, and storms blow in suddenly, with cold fronts bringing high winds and low visibility.

All the more reason to take advantage of a summer day on Australia's east coast to take a flight in a Piper Archer to bang a bit more rust off.

This time, I flew with the local flying club and one of their instructors on an intro flight to see how the operation differed from the light sport guys down the road.

On the plus side, the Archer is a bigger, more stable airplane and the weather was a lot smoother than last time. Light easterly winds and cool temperatures under a high overcast made for a much more pleasant trip. The instructor was very professional, as this school caters more to those seeking higher ratings. They also have a wide selection of aircraft just in case I feel like working on a complex endorsement or playing around with a G1000 panel again.

But today was just a bit of airwork and circuits to refamiliarize myself with the Piper. Yes, it's silly to argue about which is better - high wing or low, but I am now firmly in the low wing camp. Fundamentally, it's just easier to look outside. There's no extra strut hanging out in the wind, and clearing turns (not to mention the pattern) simply feel safer.

So, what was the down side? The last two flights from this field were in a Tecnam light sport plane. It can settle down to the runway at 45 knots and stop on a dime. So, flying on and off a 2,800 foot runway didn't seem like that big of a deal. Though the runway is much shorter than the 9,000 feet that I used in my primary training, the small light sport scaled everything down. It seemed just about right.

Today, in a standard category, four-seat low wing, a bit too much speed on final and a bit too long of a flare in ground effect means that this airplane eats runway for breakfast. So there we were...bouncing down the runway at 75 knots, realizing that this first touch and go was more "go" than "touch". It meant that all the confidence I managed to rebuild during the hour doing steep turns and stalls was somewhat eroded by my utter lack of ability to make a smooth landing. Oh well.

It took three tries, but I managed finally make a half-decent touchdown. I guess next time I'll work on short field approaches.

Overloaded Circuits

2011-10-09T20:25:00.003-06:00

It was windy, but not overly so. Nonetheless, I haven't had a day of pattern work like this since 2007. To wit:

Nine touch-and-goes, with some of my most consistently wonky patterns ever. If you want a visual illustration of the difference between accuracy and precision, you couldn't do much better. Precision? Did pretty well at holding heading and altitude visually. Accuracy? Though altitude was pretty good, with just a couple of spikes, my heading was consistently off due to two main causes: the shifting winds and the right-hand traffic pattern that made it hard to judge my downwind turn - especially being over water with no set turning point. You can see the result as my downwind leg is pretty much a random walk.

The Tecnam continues to be somewhat challenging, even though the instructor says I'm picking it up pretty well for someone with a full private certificate. Though generally such a pilot is too heavy on the controls, my experience with the Diamond gives me a leg up. Now if I could just find a way to erase the fact that I haven't flown in a year...

On the plus side, I got some good experience with gusty winds, up- and down-drafts, and a gentle crosswind. On the negative, it's a bit frustrating to be doing the same things that I covered in primary training. Ultimately, it's for the best, but it would be nice to get off this self-imposed plateau caused by not flying for so long.

South of the Border

2011-10-02T05:03:00.005-06:00

In yet another episode of the "new plane, new instructor, new airfield, new country" saga, today was a "first flight" all over again. This time, it was a Tecnam Eaglet - a plane that in the U.S. would be classified as a Light Sport (LSA), but here in Australia is the foundation of the "recreational pilot" certificate.

In short, it's a lot like the DA-20, but with slightly less power, much lighter, and much more sensitive to control inputs. On the other hand, it doesn't take much rudder to stay on course, except for a full-power climb.

The flight was supposed to be an extended intro to the light aircraft. I am planning on converting my U.S. private pilot certificate to an Australian version of the same thing. There are naturally a few bureaucratic hoops to jump through, including a test and a checkride, but flying is flying. At the recommendation of my instructor, however, I am looking at becoming certified as a recreational pilot here at first. This will allow me to fly daytime VFR anywhere (very similar to a U.S. recreational or sport license) and build some hours in preparation for the full certificate. Further, in my case, it won't require a checkride - just an instructor endorsement.

So today was to be the first step, but didn't really work out as planned - for better AND worse. Not only was it very windy today, leading to some nervousness about the whole situation, but my instructor was late getting arriving back to the field. The winds I was experiencing on the ground all day were adding almost an hour to another student's flight.

Not to just sit idle, I poked around the hangar and the planes that were still there. I read through the operating handbook, flipped through the VFR flight rules, and watched a few planes in the circuit (what us Americans call the pattern). When he finally showed up, yet another student arrived as well for his lesson. Since my instructor wanted to fly with me personally, we quickly adjusted the plans and another instructor took his place with the other guy.

We didn't have much daylight left, so what was supposed to be an extended flight to visit some other fields and fly over Brisbane was cut short. Nonetheless, it was a nice flight, and the winds died down a bit with dusk coming on, so the bumps weren't too bad.

It was pretty simple - a lot like my very first flight years ago. Gentle turns, climbs, descents, and even a "roll on a heading" that I did so long ago. But that was just with me at the controls. Seeing my hesitancy at handling the plane, the instructor wanted to show what it could do. He took us into some steep turns, a zooming climb, and twisted through the sky in ways that I had never experienced before - even during my "unusual attitude recovery" exercises back home in Montana.

The thing that got me was that everything happens much faster in this plane than I have been used to. It turns faster, climbs faster, responds immediately to power and control adjustments, and takes off after just a few seconds of rolling down the runway. Much different than watching the airspeed slowly come up and gradually letting the plane lift off. This one practically jumps into the air and doesn't stop.

The other trick the Tecnam has in store is that it keeps your hands busy on the ground. There are no toe brakes, so stopping power comes in hand brake form. You can talk all you want about proper control inputs on the ground (climb into/dive away from a quartering crosswind, blah blah blah)...but when you've got one hand on the throttle and one on the brake, the control surfaces don't get much love.

I'm also used to flying a standard pattern and setting up a stabilized approach for landing - obviously a good thing. This plane doesn't require such formality. Tighten up the pattern to half of what you're used to, cut the throttle, and glide in. Not at all what I'm accustomed to, so I think I was giving the instructor a bit of a twitch as I flew a textbook pattern.

On the last go-around, he took the controls again, and twisted the plane around on one wingtip from downwind to final, had us at 40 knots and touched down just off the edge of the runway threshold. We were taxiing off the runway barely 100 feet from where we landed! Wow. Practically bush flying.

A New View

2011-08-05T19:38:00.004-06:00

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.

With a Capital "C"

2011-08-04T22:50:00.003-06:00

I don't have my logbook. I don't have my medical. I'm not current for passengers. I haven't flown in over a year. And I'm in a foreign country.

Must be time to go flying.

After a very busy schedule working north of the border in Ontario, Alberta, and British Columbia over the last 18 months, there is now a narrow window of opportunity in which to get some time in - albeit with an instructor as my Pilot In Command. Without my credentials, I can be nothing more than a passenger or quasi-student, but that doesn't keep one from going up whenever possible.

Tomorrow, it will be a different experience however. Spending a few extra hours in Calgary, AB allows me to get some time in a new environment (again) with a new instructor (again) and in an unfamiliar aircraft (yes, again). But to keep things interesting, I will also get a feel for flying in Canadian airspace. Listening to the scanner the other day, I can tell it's not too different - as expected and intended by the international standards for aviation (ICAO).

The biggest things that I have identified so far is that airspace has a slightly different classification up here, and they use the word "decimal" instead of "point" when stating a radio frequency. So, where an American will say 121.0 as "one-two-one point zero", it's "one-two-one decimal zero". I think I can handle it.

It is said that there is a distinction between flying 100 hours and flying the same hour 100 times. In other words, if all you do is fly the same airport or same cross-country over and over, you're not really seeing or learning anything new. In contrast, my mere hundred hours will now include two (and soon to be three - stay tuned) countries, a half-dozen or so different instructors, flights into Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, Utah, Arizona (including the Grand Canyon), and California - with the variations in traffic, terrain, and weather that each one brings, and a mix of non-towered, towered, Class B, flight following, and various other idiosyncrasies that each flight brings. In addition, I have so far taken up seven different people as passengers, a couple of them more than once.

So begins a new chapter, with new adventures waiting out there somewhere. Now, I will finally get a chance to fly in the Canada that I have worked so long in, and flown countless commercial flights to reach virtually every weekend of the last year and a half. But my time here is short, and at the end of the month, another destination awaits.

Next stop: Australia!

Oshkosh!

2011-07-24T14:53:00.002-06:00

As a pilot, it's a bit embarrassing to admit that I had never heard of Oshkosh before about 2006, when I seriously contemplated earning my certificate. I don't know anyone who has ever gone, and I know very little of the history of the event. It might be a long time before I'm ever able to fly there myself, but for now, I will be content with simply being there.

The biggest gathering of aircraft anywhere in the world. General aviation, warbirds, homebuilts, experimentals, helicopters, commercial, military - if it flies, it's at Oshkosh. Every year since 1953, the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) has hosted this monument to aviation and all things aeronautical.

I haven't flown for over a year due to work, but that hasn't kept me from planning and thinking about it on my various journeys on commercial air. Soon enough, I'll be able to fly again, bang the rust off, and try some new experiences in a new place.

For now, Oshkosh will have to do.

Odd Plane

2010-10-10T11:32:00.002-06:00

So I looked up to see what appeared to be an airliner. It looked odd. It was either very big or flying lower than usual. Indeed, the other planes flying this morning were leaving contrails, but this one didn't. So I pulled up flightaware.com and found this. That seemed pretty odd, too. So I did a search for the identifier, BOE521, and found this as well. Turns out I was watching one of the new Boeing Dreamlifters on some sort of test flight. Cool.

What I Can Get

2010-06-13T11:11:00.002-06:00

It seemed like only yesterday, but the last time I was up in a CAP airplane was back in January. With some time set aside to work from home, I had yet another chance to attend a CAP exercise yesterday, and basically followed up on the ad hoc training I did before.

Like most other aspects of flying, I'll take it.

This was a brief ground lesson on the Becker ELT receiver. If a plane goes down, the impact forces trigger an electronic transmitter that can help rescuers locate its position. Often, it isn't necessary if the accident occurs in a populated area or if there is a fire, or both. But with so much open land, locating a downed plane can take forever. In the U.S., these transmissions are on 121.5 MHz, which is monitored by most airliners and some ground locations. For training, CAP and other search agencies use special transmitters on different frequencies to avoid false alarms. This allows us to perform a "real" search for a transmitter in an unknown location.

When training and timing coincide, the result can be a speedier location, leading to rescue or recovery.

After working with the receiver on the ground, we took a short flight to track the training transmitter. Unlike last time, there was no visual target to look for, but we didn't know that at the time. The goal is to provide a narrow area into which a ground team (or perhaps a helicopter) can do a more careful search. In this case, it was necessary to do a few passes, triangulate bearings on the signal, and communicate the coordinates back to our mission base.

In all, a successful mission, and a bit more flying time where I'm actually able to look out the front window and not just a little portal on the side of an aluminum tube at 35,000 feet.

All Different. Again.

2010-05-23T20:01:00.003-06:00

In the spirit of being on track to fly less than 10 hours this year, I took yet another hour long flight today. To recap, I've had only two flights in the last 8 months or so. One was the biennial in March, the one before that was a checkout in a 172 at a different flight school way back in September. Not exactly the best way to keep the skills razor sharp.

Today, work, weather, the flight school's schedule, and a little bit of extra money (so much for Christmas...) came together to allow a quick flight. Due to the slightly lower cost of the 172's down the road, I gave them a call. I didn't think to ask, but it turned out once I arrived that the two planes that they had before (one of which from my previous flight) had been sold. In their place was a newer 2001 Cessna 172 SP. This craft has autopilot and a Bendix GPS, but otherwise similar avionics. In addition, it's also fuel injected, so no carburetor heat. Oh, and it's basically now the same rental price as the DA-20...so it goes.

Adding it all up, I was now - once again - flying in a different airplane with a different instructor...and basically still at a new airport. Remember, I've only had one flight with one landing at this field before.

This instructor was the first one in a long time that actually watched me preflight the plane. Not a big deal to me, I actually was glad to have some extra eyes over my shoulder. Since I had a checkout in the simpler plane before, today's main task was to make sure I understood the different systems in this plane and do a few touch-and-go's.

The winds were light, but that just gave me a bit of false hope. I knew the forecast for today had indicated a chance of thunderstorms, but cooler temperatures had kept them at bay. Nevertheless, it was no surprise when we climbed out and started to get bounced around from the mild thermals. We had yet another distraction in the form of a fly in the cockpit...something we originally thought was a bird outside...

After going through some of the GPS and autopilot features, we turned back toward the field and I hand-flew back into the pattern. Considering the bumps, my "cruise" wasn't too bad. But once we arrived in the pattern and began our final descent, I could tell things just weren't right. This is where being familiar with a particular airplane pays off. Knowing where the power should be set, the timing of the flaps, the feeling of getting a bit too slow, and having a good sight picture of the runway for the flare, and having a feel for the force required on all the controls are all important points. Not knowing these things isn't quite enough to put you behind the airplane, but is enough to make you have to work at it.

In my case, the shifting winds and constant bumps made what was a pretty stable approach into a somewhat marginal roundout and flare. Small burbles, a crosswind, and a bit of a downdraft turned what I had hoped was going to be an acceptable landing into a wobbly touchdown...and that only with the help of the instructor.

Too long for a touch-and-go, we taxied off the runway and back for another try. This was a bit better, since it was now a standard pattern, but I still got wonky on the roundout. Good enough for an immediate takeoff, we did one more. This one was better, but still not very crisp. In all, these were really some of my poorest landings in a long time.

Lessons: fly more
fly more
fly more

Returning To Flight...Temporarily

2010-03-11T22:30:00.003-07:00

Though I suspect that future flying will experience similar gaps as has been the case recently, it still felt good to get back up there today.

The "biennial flight review" (a bit of a misnomer according to the FAA) is the two-year checkup for a pilot certificate. They require at least an hour of ground review and an hour of flight to ensure that the pilot is up on the regulations and remains safe in the aircraft. Today was my day.

I could have done this with any instructor in any plane at any airport. Specifically, I could have done it at the local field here in a cheaper Cessna 172 with an instructor that I have only flown with one time. Or, I could make the road trip back to my original training field, fly the very familiar (and more expensive) DA-20, and see my original instructor again. I chose the latter, and I'm glad I did.

I had spent the week doing some light reading of the FAR's, the various handbooks, and the operating manual for the Diamond. I felt pretty confident of the book learning, but have been quite nervous about the time off taking its toll on my flying skills. The recent past in the 172's just hasn't reinforced that I can stay 100% ahead of the plane. With the low number of hours I've had in them, I just didn't feel that my flying was as smooth as it could have been. This, combined with the fact that I haven't been as comfortable with the instructors here, led me to spend the extra money to get some better quality review and build my confidence in the air.

And it worked out beautifully.

It has been about a year since I flew the Diamond, and nearly 18 months since I flew with my old instructor. We spent the ground time going over some real-life scenarios related to the type of flying that I've been doing and will likely do in the future. Regulations, dealing with different aircraft, flight planning, and so forth. Like in the oral exam during the checkride, it's not necessary to know everything by memory, as long as you know where to find the information.

But then we got to the flying. During the pre-flight, it all started to come back to me. I had my old checklist, and was in the same plane that I flew on my second lesson way back in July 2007. We've both accumulated a lot of hours since then. We strapped in and were ready to go.

The instructor pointed out a few updated things on the field (the controllers now have radar scopes in the tower - the better to see you with...) and in the procedures. Everything was going so smoothly. There was little wind on the surface, and the cool air made for a nice climbout.

We got to the maneuvers, and started with what was my nemesis prior to the checkride - steep turns. Sure enough, I blew the first one (let the nose get too high) and couldn't get it back in line. But the second try was dead-on - both to the left and the right. My headings were on, I gained less than 100 feet, and kept the angle of back right at 45 degrees, pulling 1.2 G's.

We moved to slow flight, power-off stalls, power-on stalls, turning stalls, and "steep" stalls. I don't know what else to call the last ones...they're not part of the regular test maneuvers, but the instructor had me do some slow banks over to 45 degrees while letting the plane slow to stall speed. I don't know that I'd want to do one of these in a Cessna, as they are more prone to spin, but it works just fine in the Diamond...and is good practice.

Then we did a bit of hood work. Typical things like turning to headings and a descending turn. But then the instructor pulled a sneaky one. He had me look down and close my eyes while still flying the plane. This was a demonstration of spatial disorientation (the danger of flying into the clouds without proper training). Let me tell you, this is a very uncomfortable feeling. I knew that he wouldn't let us get into a dangerous situation, but there is absolutely nothing nice about hearing the engine wind up (so you know you are descending), but not knowing how to correct for it, since you don't know which way is up, how fast you are turning (if at all), or where you are.

He kept this up for nearly a minute (it seemed like a very long time...) and then had me open my eyes. Holy cow! We were in a steep, descending spiral - exactly the situation that kills many pilots who become disoriented in the clouds and don't trust their instruments. Your inner ear tells you that everything is hunky-dory, meanwhile, the speed is increasing to the point that the plane could break up in flight. Without arresting this condition, it's merely a matter of what kills you first - an in-flight disintegration, or high speed impact with the ground. Scary stuff, but a very powerful lesson.

And lest you think that this could only happen to a low-time pilot or student, my instructor (a part-time charter pilot) also ended up in the same condition during a checkout flight with his examiner (as part of a similar demonstration). Experience doesn't trump our biological shortcomings.

The last order of business was some touch-and-go's. There isn't much to say here other than these were perhaps the best landings I've ever made - ever, ever. The approaches were probably a bit high and fast, but extremely stable and well controlled. One of them required a forward slip to lose some extra altitude, but the touchdowns were glass-smooth. I could have even pulled off a good crosswind landing if I had to.

I had a great time revisiting old friends (of the human and aircraft varieties). It was definitely a confidence-booster to be in familiar territory and be able to really show my stuff.

Turbulence

2010-03-05T12:51:00.003-07:00

No, not that kind.

The kind of turbulence that affects the course of one's life. Job changes, personal endeavors, and other stressful circumstances.

As in flying, negotiating this sort of turbulence means not fighting the ups and downs. Just maintain control and a level attitude.

In my case, it means doing what I can for CAP, though that experience may come to an end as quickly as it began. It also means dealing with my now-overdue flight review, which means I'm not even current to fly as a PIC.

But it also means finding a balance between being exactly where you want to be at a given moment and being on a long-term course that will deliver you where you want to be at the end of your journey.

Flying is at the junction - the fulcrum if you will - of these two opposing forces. Starting very soon, my work will take me to Canada for a long-term project. Will I get to fly in a foreign country? Not if I don't get my review done. Will it matter? Well, probably not in the long run. But just to know that I could if I wanted to and if the opportunity presented itself, it's worth it to get the review done before I go.

And CAP?

That's a more difficult question. I've enjoyed teaching the cadets - even for such a short time. I've also enjoyed being a part of the exercises and the overall experience. But, it is ultimately a volunteer organization. I feel bad that with the local squadron (indeed, the entire wing) being so small, they will have difficulty keeping things going. But they, like any other similar group, must deal with the real-life concerns of work and family.

I will see if it will be possible to continue contributing, but it will definitely not be easy. If I were in the states, I at least could hook up with another squadron temporarily, but not up in Canada. And it's just too far away to make short trips back down south just for CAP.

So next week I'll be doing my flight review with my original instructor, and back in the DA-20. I'm looking forward to getting back up in the air as a pilot rather than as a passenger. But with so many months away, I have some studying to do. On the plus side, it will be yet another new experience along the path. And it does appear that I am headed in the right direction, bumps or not.

Advancement - Sort of

2010-02-05T20:15:00.003-07:00

Not much to report on the subject of flying. In short, there isn't any of it going on. But things are still happening in CAP that keep the mind sharp. If you recall, there was an incident with gyroscopes a while back.

After that, I ordered four gyroscopes online, and they arrived in time for my next Aerospace lesson for the cadets. It ended up being a pretty good time. In addition to the gyros, I borrowed some defunct instruments from the local avionics shop, so I had some good hands on material. We went over more about flight instruments, gyro principles, and a bit of reading sectional charts.

Happily, two of the cadets who were having trouble passing their quizzes on this module passed them this week. Now, I'm not saying that it had anything to do with my teaching methods - after all, I think this was the third or fourth time they had attempted it. But it still felt good that we can start to move on. The next module for the cadets is aviation weather.

On a more personal note, CAP has a pretty strict track when advancing through the ranks. There are specific "time-in-grade" requirements and several tasks to perform before being promoted. For example, the lowest grade is Second Lieutenant, and normally requires six months as a member. First Lieutenant is the next step and requires six more months as a 2nd Lt. Since I have a private pilot certificate, however, I fall under one of the few exceptions and am allowed to skip the initial time and was just awarded 2nd Lt. rank. Yay!

Again, not that it really does much for me in the scheme of things (and it sure isn't helping my flying opportunities any), but it's a little glimmer of pride in an otherwise dreary day. Of course, if I had an instrument rating, I could have jumped all the way to 1st Lt. Oh well. Speaking of which, while that rating is still on my to-do list, it just doesn't make a lot of sense if you can't fly regularly to do it safely. Doesn't make a lot of sense to spend the money just to let the skills atrophy.

So lately, I've powered up the MS Flight Simulator to play around a bit. It's actually one of the few times I've used it since even starting flight training nearly three (!) years ago - and I don't recommend it for any real serious training. It's something like doing a crossword puzzle to practice writing. Yeah, the pieces are there, and you're going through some of the same mental tasks, but it's not anywhere near the same experience. And if you do too much of it, you'll learn some bad habits. But with few alternatives available, it's a cheap way to keep your head in the game.

Speaking of dysfunctional (which I was not) I'm finding out a lot more about the bureaucracy and politics involved in CAP. Basically, many members have joined over the years to take advantage of it as a "flying club" - a cheap way to get some hours in. This means there isn't much motivation for some of CAP's other missions - especially cadet training. In addition, since it's all volunteer, folks are pretty hesitant to deal with the admittedly large degree of paperwork generated by a quasi-governmental organization.

The result is a loose-knit band of pilots and other volunteers who all have different ideas about why they're there and who should be responsible for what. I can already tell that anyone who dedicates their time and really hopes to make a contribution often can get frustrated by the red tape. We shall see how it goes.

Surprise Flight

2010-01-17T21:58:00.002-07:00

Since last week's aborted training exercise, I thought it would be a while before I got to get some more in depth training. The squadron and wing leadership instead decided to try again this weekend. Unfortunately, I had a prior commitment and couldn't make it for most of the day. I figured I'd show up to get some classroom training out of the way and check off at least a few boxes toward either a staff assistant or mission scanner role.

Staff assistant simply refers to an administrative go-fer who can keep track of the mission status and ensure updates make it to the appropriate people and places. The mission scanner role is more interesting, as that is one of the sets of eyeballs in the air during a real search.

Even after arriving so late at the exercise command post, there were still two more training flights on the agenda. With one of the hardest tasks being a trainee on an actual training mission (due to the infrequency of the exercises), it made sense for me to go up and get one of them out of the way. Most positions require at least two training flights, some require three.

I learned a few things from this mission:
- I can retain and recall something I read just once months ago (namely, some of the scanning techniques).
- I can quickly read the manual for a direction-finding radio and make some sense of it just minutes before flying.
- I need to fly more before I would ever feel comfortable in (a) any CAP aircraft, (b) especially the glass cockpit planes.

Even as a "passenger" in the right front seat, with my primary duty being interpreting the direction-finding radio to home in on a training ELT, I felt behind the airplane. This was one of the newer G1000 crafts, and I struggled to keep a glance at the instruments as a secondary backup for the pilot. Part of it is my time away from flying as of late, and of course there is the lack of experience with the Garmin G1000. I have a biennial coming due in February, and I may not even get to fly before then. It will have been five months by the time it rolls around.

On a more positive note, I was able to visually locate our target (a military parachute on the ground) even as the much more experienced pilot said, "That can't be it..." and kept circling the area looking for something else.

Weekend Emergency Services

2010-01-09T21:18:00.002-07:00

More training today. Every so often, the CAP squadron will have a formal exercise to train, test, and practice for a real search-and-rescue event. Yesterday, with high winds forecast, the leadership decided to forgo a real exercise with planes in the air and instead just do some classroom training.

Naturally, it's not the same as being out in the field, but I couldn't argue with the logic of being inside while it was freezing and windy outside. For that matter, some of the work is necessarily administrative in nature (how to do incident paperwork, track resources, etc.) so the classroom is still a part of the overall process.

Due to the limited agenda, the meeting was also limited to senior members rather than inclusive of the cadets. That actually turned out to be a positive, as we discussed some issues regarding recruitment and meeting organization that falls to us as adult leaders to handle.

For me personally, it was a good meeting to clear up a few gray areas regarding advancement and emergency services operations qualifications (OpsQuals). I am now a trainee for a couple of operations specialties: Mission Scanner and Mission Staff Assistant. The first is a step on the way to becoming a CAP mission pilot. The second is more or less a go-fer position, but is still an important role during a real incident (think Radar from M.A.S.H. -- you remember that show, right?)

In follow up to the last post, I ordered four gyroscopes and received them today. They're the cheap kind, but they kept three kids busy for at least two hours today. I'd say that's a pretty good result. On top of that, we were able to talk about how they work in an airplane, how the gyroscopic effect keeps their bicycles upright, and learned that dogs don't like the noise of the spinning tops. Who knew?

Gyroscopes

2009-12-31T19:16:00.002-07:00

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...

Flying - Passenger Style

2009-12-26T20:25:00.003-07:00

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.

G1000 Ground Training

2009-11-21T23:21:00.003-07:00

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.

Moving Along

2009-11-07T19:12:00.003-07:00

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.

Some Basic Aerospace

2009-10-15T21:56:00.004-06:00

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.

Winging It With The Cadets

2009-10-08T23:44:00.002-06:00

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.

SAREX

2009-10-03T20:26:00.002-06:00

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.

FEMA, Ground Handling, OPSEC, uniforms

2009-09-29T21:59:00.003-06:00

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.

Another Checkout Flight

2009-09-21T12:00:00.004-06:00

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.

Inspected by...

2009-09-17T21:48:00.003-06:00

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.

CAP Bureaucracy

2009-09-12T20:34:00.003-06:00

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...

Another CAP Visit

2009-08-12T23:02:00.002-06:00

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...)

A First Visit

2009-07-23T23:34:00.003-06:00

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.

Trying Something New

2009-07-23T23:16:00.004-06:00

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!

Incursion Excursion

2009-04-19T17:35:00.004-06:00

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.

Flight Awareness

2009-03-18T19:56:00.004-06:00

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?

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.

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.

Slow Boat to China, Part 2

2009-01-20T19:43:00.002-07:00

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.

Slow Boat to China, Part 1

2009-01-20T18:25:00.003-07:00

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.

Out Yonder

2009-01-18T15:08:00.002-07:00

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.

A Little Practice

2009-01-17T19:48:00.004-07:00

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.

Shortest Flight Ever

2008-11-18T19:17:00.005-07:00

...no, not because of any problem or emergency...but today's flight was considered complete from beginning to end in only 0.5 hours (including time on the ground). At issue was wind and a time constraint to be back home by dark (for non-flying reasons).

The opportunity, however, was that I would be able to take my other two kids up on one of the last decent days we're supposed to have for the next week or so. A cold front is moving in, and we have snow forecast until the weekend. The by-product was an AIRMET for turbulence due to us being in the "gears" of the tightly spaced high and low. Nevertheless, always the optimist, I kept my eye on the winds, and when they got below 10 knots, around the time that school let out, it was looking good.

There were still very strong winds just a few thousand feet up, so I planned on keeping it low and slow. I did my best not to rush through anything, since I figured that whatever time we could be in the sky was going to be worth the trouble. It was a busy time (and maybe a lot of other folks were taking advantage of the unseasonably mild weather) and we had to spend a few minutes holding at the runway. Once we were cleared, we made a smooth climb out. I had requested 6,500 feet, but as we climbed up into 4,500 it started to get a little bumpy. I amended my request to simply stay at that altitude, and we made a wide circle over town.

I was aiming for the next town over, about ten miles or so to the west. As we got about 8 miles out, I could feel the burbles of the higher speed wind above us, and I was tired of looking into the sun, so we made the turnaround and headed back. The kids (11 and 5) were having a great time, and no one had any problem with airsickness. They were surprised at how loud the plane was at takeoff, but did well considering I had to stay on the radio almost the whole time. I had a chance to explain my job during preflight and that, as helpful as they wanted to be, I had to make sure personally that everything was ship-shape and that there wouldn't be very much conversation once in the air.

The flight was summed up as "awesome" and "totally cool" by the experts. What ended up being a glorified trip around the pattern for me was nonetheless a great first flight for them. And, hey, when all was said and done, it only cost fifty bucks in rental time. What a deal! We'll hope that the weather isn't quite as bad as forecast, and maybe there can be another flight in the near future.

Spousal Consent

2008-10-31T16:42:00.002-06:00

It didn't take much to convince me to ditch work today due to the continued good weather here. On top of that, my wife was also available to take the opportunity for a first flight. A quick check of the forecast was all it took to confirm that days like this just don't really get better. A nice, quiet Friday, high clouds, cool air, light winds, and a nice airplane. That, and a significant other...made all the more significant due to a willingness to even indulge my flight training in the first place, let alone strap in and join me in the sky.

Today was actually a different craft than yesterday, but virtually identical other than a different radio stack and a couple of extra horsepower under the hood. It made no difference, and I had spent last night going over the performance figures that I copied after yesterday's flight.

We planned on making a circuit around the nearby hills, but a 25 knot headwind on the first leg tightened up our flight a bit closer to the city. We made a steady climbout, with only a couple of course deviations from ATC for traffic departing behind us. Then we were on our own, keeping it low and slow over the Yellowstone River and surrounding ranch and agricultural land.

My passenger was (probably typically for a first-timer) a bit nervous about the whole undertaking, but we kept things calm and the weather cooperated, too. Shallow banks (all to the left), steady altitude and power settings, and only a few burbles of wind made for a smooth flight all the way around. Smooth enough that this will hopefully be the first of more trips in the future.

We stayed up for an hour, and came in for a passenger-friendly landing. Not only was the flight successful, but it demonstrated that all the money we've invested in my little hobby has hopefully been well spent.

...where I left off

2008-10-30T16:48:00.003-06:00

It's hard to believe that so much time has passed. My family is in a new city and a new house, and I have been struggling to find some time to get up to a new airport, find an instructor, and get checked out in a new (old) plane. Finally, today was the day. The entire country appears to be dominated by one or more high pressure systems, and for the end of October, it was a beautiful day for a flight. Wouldn't it have been nice if my flying skills were as crisp as the weather...

Keeping in mind that my logbook is only about 84 hours thick, it wouldn't take long for the rust to set in. Compound that with the fact that I have been flying a 2-seat, low wing, fuel-injected DA-20 -- now I'm in the left seat of the venerable Cessna 172...from 1969 no less. Virtually identical to my dad's former craft, it's not unfamiliar territory, but it felt like transitioning from a Mazda Miata to a Chevy Suburban.

Today was a checkout to allow me unrestricted rental privileges, and the instructor (whom I had met many months ago before moving here) thought it wouldn't take long to get me up to speed. Indeed, after some slow flight and stalls, all it took was a few touch-and-go's to get in the groove. But it wasn't a cake walk, either.

Yoke vs. Stick. High wing vs. low. Electric trim vs. not... Remember the carb heat...
Different flap controls, different speeds, different sight pictures during landing
All of the physical sensations are the same, but different. The sounds are different, the controls are firmer, and that first landing was a bugger.

After completely embarassing myself and thinking I was a pretty lousy representative for any flight school that would allow such antics, it came together. A little more finesse with the throttle, a lot more finesse with the pitch, and I was starting to get it. And each landing after the first was nearly picture perfect, if your picture somehow blots out the runway centerline...

At least by the end, I had it pretty well greased onto the blacktop (even with a crosswind, thank you very much) and the instructor was satisfied that I would not be too much of a risk to myself or others. So, not only have I moved up to a "complex" aircraft (four seats and carburetor heat), but I'm happy to know that the time off hasn't cost me too much of my skill. Of course, now I'm on the pay-as-you-play plan, so we'll see just how long the next hiatus will be.

Rainy Monday

2008-07-21T16:56:00.004-06:00

The trip back from Salt Lake City was intended to take advantage of a nice high pressure area over the western U.S. While it has held up mostly as expected, it appears that a southerly flow (maybe even from hurricane Fausto?) brought more moisture than originally forecast. I had seen that the forecast changed from mostly clear to overcast, and then scattered showers were added to the mix. Even so, the perpetual afternoon thunderstorms were also still expected.

On the drive to the airport, I kept a watchful eye to the north to see which side of the Salt Lake valley looked the best. There was a nearly solid curtain of showers across the valley, but I could still make out Antelope Island on the west side, so I decided on that direction. This was different than what I had mapped out last night, as I tried to tighten up the route a bit to make it in one shot with no fuel stops. Nevertheless, the clouds were high up and visibility below 12,000 feet was at least 10 miles, so everything was legal. The only concern was my comfort level with venturing off into some light precipitation.

As before, I tried to obtain flight following while on the ground at U42, via the Clearance Delivery frequency. I was simply told to remain clear of the Class B and contact approach for a VFR transition. As I sat on the ramp with the engine running, I looked over the charts for another few minutes, to mentally assign myself the proper altitudes at the proper sectors, at least until otherwise directed.

It was even smoother today than on the trip down, due to the cloud cover, so I thought that would continue as I moved north to outrun the rain. As it happened, Approach vectored me further out to the west than I really wanted to be, and I had to stay fairly low. This, combined with the now-steady rain, was starting to give me concern. As I reached Antelope Island, I requested to go direct to Ogden (OGD) since the rain looked at least a bit lighter that way (and it was more on my desired route). I was allowed to turn east as long as I stayed low (about 1,700 AGL at this point).

I puttered along, with the rain not really causing me much trouble, but lowering the visibility through the canopy. I finally made it out the north side of the Class B, and was cleared to proceed on course. I planned to fly a standard VFR altitude of 11,500 feet, but the clouds were lower in this area, so I had to stay a bit lower. I was able to "cheat" a little, by staying around 10,000 feet over terrain that had risen to about 7,000 (so, with less than 3,000 AGL, exempt from the "hemispheric rule"). I asked a few times what the precipitation looked like to the north, and was basically told that "what you see is what it is". So I continued to dodge heavier showers and aim for the higher visibility all the way up to Malad City, Idaho.

There, I could look back and see the rain from the other side. It was still overcast, but the clouds were much higher, there was the rare spot of sunlight peeking through, and I could climb up to 11,500 as planned. This was all the more desirable, since 10,000 had put me under the radar coverage, so I had to call ZLC back and request it again.

The rest of the flight went on without incident, although I did still pick up some early-afternoon thermal turbulence in Montana. I was happy to have successfully navigated and changed course as necessary to thread through the rain. It was also nice to have spent so much time in the air traffic environment. If you haven't yet given it a try, go for it!

In the "System"

2008-07-20T10:57:00.002-06:00

I flew down yesterday and tried to cover some new ground -- so to speak. I made a fuel stop in Idaho Falls and then landed in Salt Lake City, with some hours that were very different than any that I've flown so far.

I've made long cross-country flights before, but this was the first done solo (long being anything than the one required for the certificate). It also included a trip through the Salt Lake Class B airspace to U42.

I got a late start -- due to the fuel truck taking a very long time to get around to the plane -- so I was in the heat a little more than I wanted, but it worked out okay. A little turbulence through Idaho, but nothing worse than what I've had before.

The first leg of the trip was also over fairly familiar country, so I took the time to mentally go over (again) what I would be doing as I got into the Salt Lake area. I knew that it can sometimes be difficult to obtain a clearance into Class B. Sometimes it's due to the volume of air traffic, sometimes just because it's hard to get a word in on the radio in time. My plan was to try to obtain "flight following" so that I was already in the air traffic system as I arrived near Salt Lake City.

I knew the basics, but a search for more information led me here and here. What a great insight to know to request flight following while still on the ground! This was great, and it's exactly what I did in Idaho Falls. After fueling, I got on with ground control and announced my regular "ready to taxi with ATIS information, southbound departure" but this time, "with request". Ground cleared me to taxi and then asked for my request. "Would you be able to process a flight following request to Salt Lake City?"

Sure enough, as I taxiied out, he came back with a Salt Lake Center frequency to call upon leaving the towered airspace. I took off, and contacted ZLC, received transponder code 6060, and was on my way. "Maintain VFR" is basically what each controller in turn told me to do until I actually began to get into the Class B and need specific altitudes and headings. In fact, it was such a slow day that there was only one traffic report as I was about 20 minutes away from my destination. I suppose that made it all the easier to transition all the way in, but it worked just the way it's supposed to.

The one thing that kept me on my toes was that, despite my extensive planning and writing down the various frequencies I thought I would need, all but one were new to me. So, as I would enter a new sector, I would write down the frequencies and have to dial them in before contact. It just goes to show that there will always be something. Another important thing to remember is to not change ANYTHING unless directed by ATC. For instance, as I flew through southern Idaho, the controller lost radar contact and asked for my altitude. That's it. DON'T change frequencies, DON'T change the transponder. About 20 minutes later, I was back on the radar screen as if nothing had happened.

In all, I moved from Salt Lake Center into Salt Lake Approach, and through at least two different air traffic control sectors, then finally released to the CTAF at Salt Lake Municipal #2. I must say, however, that I benefited from it being a fairly slow Saturday, but it was a good chance to fly "in the system".

Fits and Starts

2008-07-17T20:09:00.003-06:00

One month and three days -- that's how long it's been since my last flight. It's been a busy time around here, and we're gearing up to move the family about 80 miles to the east. The last month has seen house hunting and long drives across the countryside for work. And when I'm not doing that, we experience super-cell thunderstorms. And when the weather's clear, surprisingly so is my checking account (I'm looking into some kind of causal relationship).

But now, with an impending strong high pressure system coming into the western U.S., combined with a family trip down to Salt Lake City, it just may be that I'll be able to log another worthwhile cross-country (into some Class B airspace no less). Since it's been so long, I went up for about 45 minutes today in the convective heat and haze just to brush the dust of and -- coincidentally -- work on some crosswind patterns.

It doesn't take long to realize that the memory gets fuzzy fast. Routines break down, checklists are needed just a little more, and small things that were just beginning to become habit now require more conscious thought. Luckily, the big things are still taking care of themselves. I can still do a slip and my ground reference work. I can land in a crosswind. And, I found out a neat little trick in the DA-20 that highlights when you are entering an uncoordinated base-to-final turn. What? That's a very bad thing? You bet it is...

An uncoordinated low-altitude, low-speed turn is bad no matter how you slice it. It is a common error, and one that often has fatal consequences if allowed to get out of hand. Most often, it is the result of trying to "save" a turn that begins to overshoot the final approach course. By using too much left rudder and not enough left aileron, you begin a skid that allows you to lose altitude a little too quickly. Then, if you are not aware of what's happening and allow yourself to pull back on the stick, your airspeed will disappear. That left wing will drop from under you and you'll have about 5 seconds to contemplate your last error.

This clearly did not happen to me.

What did happen, however, is that I entered my turn at just the right altitude where there was a pretty strong wind shear. As the plane dropped through the variable winds, it was buffeted by the many burbles and gusts (also by the thermals coming of the ground). The reaction from the left seat was to try to maintain a steady track around the pattern and a somewhat constant rate of descent. I came through the shear and the plane took a nice yaw to the right, which I counteracted with a left rudder input (keep in mind that I'm bouncing around pretty good, so no control input is lasting more than a few seconds before needing to be opposed).

I also instinctively pulled just a bit on the stick and let the airspeed go from about 70 to 60. Not enough to stall, but enough to make everything turn a little mushy and feel wrong. And what was the "little trick"?

On climbout, I had both vents open due to the heat. As opposed to the trusty Cessna, with vents up above at the wing, the DA-20 has "dashboard" vents on each side. You can aim them in any direction and get a nice blast of ram air. But as the plane bobs and weaves, the jets of air don't come straight out. You can feel them shift around the interior, almost as if you were in an open cockpit feeling the relative wind.

I was having fun experimenting with this new cue, and as I entered the previously mentioned turn, I felt the air do something odd. I can't even tell you what it did, but it wasn't following what I thought it should do. It was enough that, combined with all the other physical happenings, made it clear that I was entering some regime of the flight envelope I didn't want to be in. Of course, all this took place in 30 seconds or less, but it was enough to feel that sinking feeling.

Happily for you and me, all of the burbling and blowing up above didn't hold down where the rubber meets the road. It was a nice, steady 10 knot wind, but with some variable direction between 45 and 90 from the runway. So it was a good dose of WD-40 for my skills and a reminder that while there is a black-and-white answer to stall speed and bank angle, the ragged edge of real weather can turn that to a gray mess very quickly.

Another First-Timer

2008-06-13T21:20:00.004-06:00

My last flight seems more recent than it really was. And I didn't journal it, since much of it can be found here. But it's been nearly two full months since I've flown, mostly due to a persistent winter that just barely released its grip (probably just for a week or so).

So, today's flight was really just a desperate attempt to remain current. The winds have finally died down enough, and the snow, rain, and clouds have moved on into the midwest. The kids are out of school, too. The opportunity was ripe for getting at least one of them into the air for the first time in a small plane.

It worked out that it was my 8-year-old daughter. She was a bit nervous I think, but didn't really let it show. After a boring couple of hours at work to finish up a few things, we went out to the field. There was a reported 12-knot crosswind, but the windsock didn't quite convince me, and the wind had been dying down all afternoon. So I chatted with my instructor for a bit and did a leisurely preflight. The result was enough crosswind to keep me in the game, but not so much to make it uncomfortable.

We were only up for about 45 minutes, but stayed around 1,500 feet above the ground, nice and slow. It was "cool", "awesome", and "fun", and it will be just the first of what I hope are more flights that I will be able to share with my kids. One of these days, I might even be able to convince my wife :-)

Unfortunately, I wasn't thinking when I came in for a landing. I should have taken the opportunity to do two touch-and-go's in addition, to keep my 90-day currency for passengers. Oh well...a good reason to take another flight in the next month. Coincidentally, it will also be about my one-year anniversary of flying. Do I buy flowers for my instructor, or is it vice versa?

Phoenix

2008-04-13T17:33:00.013-06:00

As the Prop Turns
Text and Photos courtesy of Summit Aviation

Yet another reason to be a pilot

Summit Aviation headed to PHX on the 18th of April. Fourteen pilots headed south for 2 days of this spring (which has obviously been more of an ongoing winter). A group of seven aircraft including three Diamond DA-20s, three Diamond DA-40s, and one Cessna left Gallatin field and headed for Driggs, ID for breakfast at the Warbirds Café. After filling up on peanuts and crackers (yeah right) due the Warbirds not being open, we headed for Vernal, UT. The Vernal FBO loaned us some crew transportation and we headed for what appeared to be a barn, but turned out to be the restaurant we had been told about at the airport. After lunch only one of the crew cars decided to run so we began ferrying pilots back to the airport four at a time. We used the community toothbrush at the Vernal FBO and headed for Page, AZ. Lake Powell showed us great sites along the route and made the exhausting autopilot flying seem less mentally taxing. Fuel in Page and back airborne for a corridor to take us over the Grand Canyon, an experience every pilot should be able to put in their logbook. Finally, cleared to land Runway 30L in Williams Gateway, AZ (just outside PHX) and with 10,000ft of runway, we figured landing assured.

85 to 90 degree heat in PHX seemed great the next few days. We golfed and found some great sushi and Mexican food, some of us got to see family and friends in the area.

The return home started with a morning flight to Sedona, AZ for breakfast. Awesome views of southwestern rock formations with bright colors made for a lot of photo opportunities. Another trip over the Grand Canyon and we then departed AZ and went on to Southern Utah. Good weather and a little tailwind to another fuel stop in Provo. Utah passed under us and into Idaho where the weather started to deteriorate. We stopped in Idaho Falls to look at the passes to get into Montana. Raynold’s pass south of Henry’s Lake proved socked in so the group went west to Monida Pass south of Dell, MT and was able to get through with no trouble. Over Dillon and a right turn at the north end of the Tobacco Root mountains and we were home free. We had a great trip, great flying, great food, and great time amongst pilots.

All Over the Glass

2008-04-04T21:37:00.002-06:00

It is spring, isn't it? You wouldn't know it around here. Snow last week, and more tomorrow. But in between, it's been fairly nice. The winds pick up every day, so I keep an eye on those, and today seemed to be a good day to try out a new set of wings.

After a few weeks of reading up on the G1000 (the Garmin "Glass Cockpit"), I scheduled some time in the school's DA-40. This is the four-seat, bigger cousin of the DA-20 that I have flown up until now. Not only that, but it has a constant-speed propeller (yet another level of complexity). It is also an extra $50 an hour, but who's counting?

The idea behind the glass cockpit is taking out all of the dials and needles that you may be familiar with (basically any general aviation panel before Y2K) and replacing them with two large, flat-panel displays more like an airliner or fighter jet. All of the same information is there, albeit in vastly different forms. And there are plenty of new features, with literally several new "bells and whistles". Every time you disconnect the autopilot or deviate from a set altitude, the plane will ding, bong, and beep to let you know.

The biggest hurdle, especially after having an instrument scan burned into your brain during primary training, is looking at different parts of the panel and reading scrolling numbers rather than spinning dials. For me, this was a bit difficult, and I kept finding my eyes drawn to the points in space that I would expect to see an altimeter or airspeed indicator. Even some of the switches (especially the flaps) are in a different place, and it's a reach - with eyes inside the cockpit - to find the right spot.

The constant-speed prop is also a new idea for me. It means another lever to fiddle with during changes in the flight profile (climbing, leveling off, and descending). The trick is to know what power and prop settings will get you what you want, putting them there, and letting the plane settle into equilibrium - which takes a few extra seconds compared to the smaller craft.

The lesson today was the first to be checked out to solo this particular plane. We did some steep turns (which came out quite well, thank you), slow flight, and stalls. In all, this is a very smooth plane, and it responds very well to control inputs, both on the ground and in the air. I really enjoyed the flight, but it will take much more practice to be as comfortable with it as the DA-20.

As an added bonus, the light winds that had been the rule for the day decided to give way to a 20-knot surface crosswind that made takeoff interesting and landing impossible. I had an unfamiliar plane with unfamiliar handling, sight pictures, sounds, and feel - and I had left rudder to the floor during the roundout. It wasn't coming together, and I had to go around for a landing on the crosswind runway.

Not bad for the frequency of my flying lately.

First Passengers

2008-03-22T18:20:00.003-06:00

The forecast was a bit sketchy, with some clouds and wind anticipated for the afternoon. I kept an obsessive watch on the satellite picture and the nearby METAR's to be sure that my first passenger flights would be good experiences.

The weather really could not have been much better. Aside from a few gusty surface winds at my destination, the three total flights (my father-in-law cross-country one way, my brother-in-law's short hop over the local patch, and my mom's trip back to the home base) turned out better than expected.

It was a beautiful day, with scattered snow showers masking some distant mountain peaks, but clear skies and 15-20 knot winds aloft. I even got to fly the school's brand new (only 190 hours-old) DA-20, just recently released from dual-only flight. Each cross-country was only about 60 miles, and the local trip "around town" was only about 20 minutes, but just perfect for first flights. My mom was the only one that has had general aviation experience, at least in the cockpit (and she's also currently in ground school). My father-in-law went skydiving once, but he apparently was a little too preoccupied to pay much attention to the aircraft aspect of the trip.

All had a great day, and with two more hours of cross-country time, it was worthwhile for me as well. I even impressed myself with some quick rudder action in a gusty crosswind for a glass-smooth touchdown. I was proud to show off my new skills, and it was neat to have someone on hand to take some pictures for once.

Preflight photo op

Looking out over town

You can see my house in this shot

On the way back

Finally - Some Flight Time

2008-03-10T18:00:00.002-06:00

About time. After the fiasco last time, I was definitely ready to get back into the air and keep my skills up. Since I eventually want to get an instrument rating, I've been working on planning mostly cross-country flights to work on navigation. It's not really instrument training, but it's work to polish up the flying and tighten the tolerances.

Today's flight was the same one that I had planned for last time. This time, it went off without a hitch...well, maybe just one. The winds were a bit much and I never made up my time flying into a headwind, arriving back home a bit late. But if that's the worst of it, I'm happy.

The trip was just two legs, with a VOR in the middle. I don't let the apparent simplicity of the navigation to make for a "routine" flight though. I monitored my progress, noted times at checkpoints, cross-checked my VOR with my GPS with my chart, and paid close attention to my heading and course. I also went through the radio frequencies of the fields I passed and kept in the habit of checking my engine instruments every few minutes.

Arriving in the vicinity of my destination (an uncontrolled field) I made the radio calls and kept an eye on a departing flight. Overflying the field, I checked the wind and then went out wide, descended to the pattern, and came in for a good landing. After a short stop to reverse the GPS flightplan and double-check my times, it was back into the air for the trip back.

It was a good exercise to arrive at an unfamiliar field, and I tried to maintain my altitude a bit better than I usually do. It still needs work, but it was a good post-checkride "lesson".

Right Rudder?

2008-03-06T19:13:00.003-07:00

It's been nearly three weeks since my checkride, and I haven't flown once. Today, the weather was good enough to give it a shot.

I planned to fly a short cross-country to stay current and start building up those hours in anticipation of a future instrument rating. The weather was a bit iffy, with some winds and scattered clouds, but I studied all the information and obtained a briefing, and I felt good to go. Even so, I had an alternate plan in mind should the clouds come in faster than forecast. Turns out, I needed to completely deviate from my plan when the plane decided to act up....on the ground.

I went through my startup and got all my things organized, even putting in my short hop to the GPS flight plan. I taxied down to the end of the runway and pulled off to do my runup. As I turned the plane around, I felt and heard a POP and the right brake pedal went "to the floor".

As an aside, the Diamond DA-20 has no steerable nosewheel. It is freely castering and simply reacts to the turning caused by applying one or the other of the main wheel brakes. This means that with no brake on the right side, I could not technically turn right. Fortunately, this plane also has a sizable rudder and is light enough that even a normal taxi speed provides enough rudder authority to maintain direction.

I immediately knew that my "flight" was over, and as I fiddled with the pedals to confirm that just one side was affected, I was on the radio requesting a taxi back and explaining my situation so as not to be put in any tight spots. The controller was very understanding and asked if I needed him to call over to the flight school to have someone come out to help. I said, "Negative" and he cleared me to taxi back.

There was another plane waiting to taxi to takeoff, and he was informed that I was moving slow, which caused no problems. As I taxied, I carefully experimented to see just how marginal my directional control was. It didn't seem too bad, but I knew I would have to slow down as I got up to the ramp area and would exit the taxiway toward lots of (expensive) parked aircraft. The waiting plane was cleared to taxi after I would clear the taxiway, and I was cleared (again) to continue on my way. I "rogered" and started to turn off the taxiway.

As I slowed down, it didn't take long for my lack of right-turning ability to catch up with me. At still a fairly normal taxi speed for the area, I had to decide what was going to happen next. The throttle already at idle, it was either speed up a bit and get the rudder into the mix again, or pull the mixture, cut the engine, and use just left brake to come to a stop. It quickly became apparent that more speed was definitely not a good thing at this point. I also noticed out of the corner of my eye that a couple of folks from the flight school were walking out toward me, apparently aware of my predicament.

The slow speed resulted in a nearly 90-degree turn to the left as the engine and wheels stopped turning at about the same time. I paused and told the ground controller that "We'll have to push it off." I was stopped just inside the dividing line between the ramp (a "non-movement" area) and the taxiway (a "movement" area). Movement areas require controller clearance to enter or operate within (whether you are a plane, vehicle, or pedestrian). Since I still technically had a clearance to "taxi" back to the hangar, it felt reasonable that we would simply do so. I finished completely shutting down the systems, including the radio, and hopped out as one of the school staff, a student from the school, and a lineman from next-door got to the plane.

We began pulling/pushing the plane up the ramp, and as we did so, we were intercepted by one of the airport authorities who was very upset that we had created a "pedestrian incursion" in a movement area without controller clearance. As it turned out, according to the CFI that came out, the controller had called the school anyway, unbeknownst to me, and despite my original answer, and they had come out at his request. Since I was still a few hundred feet from the hangar, it felt good to see some help coming over.

Anyway, I have a feeling this little incident might not be over, but I don't see much that I could have done differently, other than just sit there and wait for help. I felt that the controller knew what was going on and that once I shut the plane down, I would not have a radio, but there might be some special procedure for a case like this that I'm unaware of. If so, I will bet that I will find out all about it in the near future, in very great detail.

The Big Day, Part 2

2008-02-16T22:53:00.004-07:00

The details of the maneuvers clearly aren't all that interesting. If you know the practical test standards, you already know what to expect and if you know that I passed (I did), then you know what I had to do. The sequence went something like this:

Climb on course on the first leg of our fictional cross-country
Look for landmarks and compare them with the chart
Navigate based on the VOR and based on GPS
Level off at desired altitude
Oops, you flew into a cloud. Put on the hood and get us out of here.
Pretend to call the tower and follow their directions to get us back to the field
You are in an unusual attitude, get us out
Okay, hood off, get us to the practice area for slow flight
"I want that stall horn screaming nice and loud."
Some slow turns, then a power-on stall, a power-off stall, a turning stall, and then another turning stall
Show me some steep turns (Yay!)
Oops, your engine failed, get us down
Okay, your engine's back; stay low and do a turn around a point
"What do these buttons do?" (While I'm focused on the turn in a 20-knot wind)
Let's head back in for some touch-and-go's
Show me a normal landing, followed by a soft-field takeoff
Show me a soft-field landing with a slip
Do short-field landing, with a stop on the runway, followed by a short-field takeoff
Land on that spot right there
No, that other spot....
Okay, let's go in. Good job.

That may seem like a short list, and it felt like it was only as long as you probably took to read it. When it was all done, there were a few tips that he had (not surprising for a 50-hour student), but nothing that was a deal-killer. So, I'm now qualified to lead others into the great beyond...no, wait, that's not what I meant. I mean I'm now certified to demonstrate hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. Yeah, that's more like it.

See you up there.

The Big Day, Part 1

2008-02-16T22:29:00.006-07:00

I arrived a bit early, so I sat in the car and called up WX-BRIEF to get a full weather briefing. Since we weren't actually going to make the flight, it was mostly academic, but you have to do it to be able to explain why we would or would not make the flight.

When the time came, I hopped over to the flight school, where the examiner was just finishing with the prior student. I took a few minutes to plug in the weight and balance calculations (after realizing that I didn't have the actual airplane weight on hand last night). But I didn't even have time to put in the wind corrections to my navigation log; it was time to get started.

The oral portion of the exam covered a wide range of information, but we spent (what seemed to me) to be a lot of time on chart interpretation, airspace, and cross-country scenarios. Luckily, this is an area that I am very comfortable with. We ran through general questions about carrying passengers, what it took to be legal from private pilot, airplane, weather, and physiological perspectives, and talked about various obscure regulations and their interpretations.

I didn't have 100% of the answers, but that's expected. I at least knew when I was on the ragged edge of my knowledge, but we only looked up one thing in the regulations. Most of the time, it was a small detail, and the examiner could tell that I had the general ideas.

Before I knew it, it was time to fly.

We went down to preflight, and the examiner said, "Pretend I'm a regular passenger wondering what it is you're doing. Explain it to me." So that's what I did. Every single item, as if I was giving a ride to a friend who knew nothing about airplanes. I felt like I was performing for someone who had seen this show hundreds of times and knew exactly how it would end. I even felt like I was talking too much. In fact, my effort to do so made me overlook an area of the checklist, but since it's all habit now, it didn't take long to catch it.

Then we got in the plane and I explained what we would do, the steps I would go through, cockpit radio traffic, emergency procedures, seat belts...the works. During the debrief, the examiner pointed out one thing I didn't mention: the ELT. Well, shoot...there's always something.

We started up and got going, with more questions about airport signs, lights, procedures, and other field-related topics. We got to the runup, and I again explained what we were going to do and why. Then, my heart sank.

The runup involves throttling up to 1700 RPM and checking the magnetos, engine instruments, and flight instruments (especially the vacuum powered ones). As I pushed the throttle in, the RPM was nowhere near steady. There are always some very minor fluctuations - maybe 10 or 20 RPM, but this was +/- 75 RPM without doing anything. It wasn't even clear that we were getting a good magneto check. I sat there flipping the key back and forth, cycling the fuel pump, and generally staring at the tachometer - willing it to just stop waving back and forth. What are we going to do? Cancel the flight? Get another plane? Ack.

The examiner obviously knew I was having a mental breakdown at this point, and figured it might be fouled plugs. He brought the mixture out, which didn't seem to fix it. Then we ran it all the way up to 2000 RPM, but that didn't seem to have any effect either. These planes run at full rich in some very high, hot conditions, so I would have been surprised if it really was too rich on this cold day. We sat there for another minute with the engine up to 1700, back to idle, up to 2000, back to idle. All the other gauges were in the green, and there weren't any funny noises, so, we jointly decided to press on and watch what happened on the runway.

Needless to say, there wasn't a fiery crash....

The Big Day (Before)

2008-02-16T22:21:00.003-07:00

With everything in order, the checkride was confirmed, the plane was scheduled, and the examiner was given all my information.

I received my "homework" assignment last night at about 7 pm. I had to plan a cross-country flight about 250 miles, over some mountainous terrain. The examiner emailed me a couple of other helpful documents, along with the pertinent weight information for my calculations.

I was up until about 11 staring at the chart and deciding the best course (and, of course, planning how I would justify my decisions), doing all the planning, and writing up the flight plan and navigation log. I used AOPA's flight planner to get the general path and rough time calculations to see if I would need a fuel stop. It didn't look like I would, so I went ahead and made some manual adjustments to the course for terrain and weather considerations. Basically, I didn't want to be over desolate mountains in windy and potentially cloudy conditions.

With no more mental capacity to even crack a book open, I called it a night. I had to be at the airport by noon, so I spent this morning checking the weather and printing out airport diagrams for the departure, destination, and one alternate field.

Then it was off to meet my first "passenger".

Icing on the Cake

2008-02-16T22:13:00.003-07:00

I flew again yesterday, but that's just part of the story. Let me invite you into the way-back machine...

Earlier in the week, we had tentatively scheduled my checkride for the 21st of the month. So, I had it all figured out: I would cram for a week, maybe take another flight, and generally polish up the rough edges. Forward to yesterday, which, on a totally unrelated note ended up being a "stay-home" day for me. Working away on the computer, I noticed a call from my flight instructor. A checkride cancellation came up, and did I want to do it on Saturday...Heck, yeah...wait, you mean tomorrow?!

With much drama, fanfare, bribery, and corruption, we managed to work out babysitting and other assorted scheduling nightmares, and I called the instructor back to confirm that it would work. "Okay, can you come down right now and we'll do some review and pattern work?" "Uh, yeah, I guess I can do that, too." So much for working from home. Now, I had literally about 24 hours to make one last flight and cram as much as I could before today's examination. Whew.

I won't bore you with yesterday's work, since there really wasn't much to it. We did about 45 minutes' worth of touch-and-go's, and then went over the application form. We spent more time on paperwork than anything else.

But then came the really fun part....

Tying Up Loose Ends

2008-02-14T20:55:00.002-07:00

After taking the prior dual flight's recommendations, last time was a good practice, and it paid off today. As expected, task #1 was more steep turns. The first one was a bit wobbly, and I told the instructor that I probably just needed to warm up first. The next ones and a couple more turned out nearly perfect. He was satisfied, and said that I had come a long way since a few lessons ago.

We did some slow flight and yet more hood work (I'm up to 5.5 hours), which all went smoothly with no difficulties. Then we did some turning stalls, which I haven't done in a long time. These were a bit more of a challenge than I remember, and it was tricky to give just the right amount of rudder to stay coordinated. But we didn't get into a spin, so it was acceptable.

Then we came back into the pattern and did some touch-and-go's. I made extra effort to stay right on the centerline, and T.I. was impressed. I said I did 7 landings last time and paid special attention to it, so it paid off.

Everything went well, and we have tentatively scheduled the checkride for next week, but it still might not happen if work and weather don't cooperate; we'll have to see.

The Steep Turn Solution

2008-02-12T19:01:00.000-07:00

Today, after a big hiatus due to lousy weather and an even lousier flu, I flew solo to whip these steep turns. It's been a long time since I flew, and I have been waiting to put to practice all of the mental turns I've had looping through my head for weeks.

I decided to just focus on the basics, and just kept going back and forth, with a few little coordination exercises just for good measure. I wanted to just go back to "first principles" and work through the turns step by step. The most significant adjustment was that I didn't use the trim at all this time. Most often, my instructor has me trim as I establish the bank, and then as I roll out, I need to trim back to straight and level. I made the choice to just muscle through the turns, which ended up working out much better today.

It may just be a matter of sheer practice, but I felt that the control pressures gave me better feedback about what the plane was about to do. In any event, while not every turn was a winner, I was significantly better than before, and more consistent. The other adjustment was to pick a spot on the windshield for a horizon reference, something that we've done before, but not emphasized. This time, I was narrowly focused on the horizon as I entered the turn, and things started out a lot more stable.

It meant that I gave up a few seconds of outside scanning, but in a steep turn, the world spins by pretty fast anyway. The end result was that I was more stable in the turn entry, and I could better anticipate the altitude fluctuations and arrest them before they busted minimums. After going around on the carousel for an hour or so, I decided to work on my landings.

I entered the pattern, and did a bunch of approaches, making extra sure to stay on the right side of the power curve. As is my habit, I still hold a bit too much speed sometimes (especially solo, when the throttle has to be way out for a normal descent), and I made sure to bleed off energy before final. On my first approach, I had to correct for a slight crosswind down to about 100 feet AGL, and I had to make a conscious effort to keep lined up. It's been a long time since I had a real crosswind touchdown, so even a bit of practice at altitude is good.

I focused on short- and soft- field landings again, and my touchdowns were very smooth. I switched directions and did a right-traffic approach, which had me going with the wind, so I had a bit of a lopsided final, but it worked out. Then I came around on the shorter, narrower, crosswind runway for a full-stop. This highlighted that you need to have a mental "abort" point, since I floated just a bit long and used up all the runway. I'll make the excuse that I was looking hard into the sun, so my height judgment may have been a bit off, but if I had gone any further, I would have been in trouble. I should have had a point in mind that if I had not touched down, I would have gone around. That's the problem with practicing on a 9,000 foot runway. You don't get in the habit of making that calculation, when it's very important. Another lesson for the future....

A Few More Steep Turns

2008-01-24T21:27:00.000-07:00

Today I faced my "kryptonite" maneuver again: the steep turn. I suppose everyone has that one thing that seems to confound every attempt to get it right. Steep turns are mine.

I went up with the instructor again, and from last time, we both knew what I had to work on. Aside from the turns, we did a bit more hood work and emphasized the short- and soft-field landings. I think I had an off day the last time, because all of this was much better, as I made a conscious effort to slow down and think things through. The most important part of this, especially under the hood, is to keep the airplane under control and stabilized before you attack other chores, like setting the radios or navigating with the GPS.

But, as has been the case on almost every flight, I can't seem to consistently manage the steep turns. I had a couple of beauties today, but two or three out of about 20 just isn't a good enough percentage to call it anything but luck. The biggest problem by far is my tendency to let the nose drop in a left turn and rise in a right turn. I have tried just looking outside, just using the attitude indicator, a combination of the two, and about everything else short of just closing my eyes and hoping for the best.

I can fly them in my head, and I know what needs to be done, but I just need practice to maintain the precise control needed to keep that nose level.

No-Go x2

2008-01-23T19:53:00.000-07:00

The latest in a string of setbacks, including the old standby - weather - has really put a damper on the training. I wanted to really get back into it this week, and get at least one solo practice in before another with the instructor, which is scheduled for tomorrow.

On Monday, the weather actually cleared up, and I called down to the flight school about an hour ahead of time to make sure a plane was available. One was, so I wrapped up the few things I had at work and went over to the field. I caught my instructor, who said, "What are you doing here?" since this was a bit of a last-minute plan. I told him what I wanted to do, and then he pointed out to the hangar, where any one of the three planes I could fly was each stacked behind at least two other planes, including the Twin Star. The twin is a heavy enough aircraft to manhandle around on a good day, but this day had a foot of snow outside the hangar door. Deciding that not raising a lot of tempers on a freezing afternoon (no one else but one plane was flying) was a far better choice than catering to my whims. I also figured that I had two flights already scheduled ahead of time for the week, so I could wait.

And that brings us to today. I arrived on time at the field, wiped some frost from the wings (several times), preflighted the plane, got gas, and was ready to go. I made extra sure to take things slow since the plane would slide around in the snow. I was mentally prepared for a brief practice run (that would have amounted to barely an hour), and had my checklist from before all ready.

I taxied down to the runup area, and was planning ahead to my takeoff, which I decided would be another soft-field practice (pretending that there may have been some snow still on the runway). I pulled into the runup area, and as I straightened out to prepare for the runup, I began to hear a loud whine coming from the front (either the instrument panel or the engine). I let it go for a bit to try to isolate it, with headphones on and off, but couldn't place it. It sounded like a very loud vacuum pump or gyro, but way too loud compared to the typical sounds of this plane. At first, I actually thought I was hearing music over the radio, or hearing my cell phone (which was off anyway), since the tone changed a bit over a few seconds.

I went ahead with the runup, and I could still hear the sound over the engine, with headphones on. I considered that it could be a slipping alternator belt, but that didn't sound quite right, either. In any case, I went through the checklist, and all the gauges checked out OK, including the suction. I idled the engine, still heard the sound, ran it up again, and back to idle, and even cycled the fuel pump just in case. Still no indication of what the sound was or how long it would continue.

I sat for a bit and considered what it could be and whether I wanted to deal with it in flight. The final decision was made..."Ground, I'd like to return to the ramp"

I taxied back, and played a bit with the throttle to see if the sound would change or go away (or get worse). But it just stayed constant all the way to shut down. As the engine cut off and the prop was stopped, I thought I heard it continue for just a second, and then I just heard the normal wind-down of the instrument gyros.

I told the instructor that was there what was going on, and I wrote it up in the squawk sheet, so hopefully someone will be able to figure it out. Even more important to me, if there is a problem, I hope I hear about it so that I know I made the right decision. As it is, I will still wonder if it was nothing (I'm sure it wasn't my imagination), but I know that I made the right choice for the given conditions. I'm still a student, it isn't my airplane, it was near the end of the day, it was 20 below, and I heard a funny sound. That's enough little things that if something did go wrong, I'd feel like a complete idiot if I had ignored it.

Out of the Groove

2008-01-14T22:05:00.000-07:00

I suppose that I had to hit a plateau sooner or later. It just happened to settle in now, just before my checkride. Another flight with the instructor today - one that should have been just about perfect - and I just couldn't seem to make it all come together.

The first exercise was steep turns - not surprising since this has been my greatest struggle. My practice is apparently paying off. They were much better today than almost any in the past. My instructor says they are one of the hardest maneuvers in the DA-20 due to the pitch sensitivity, and I have to agree. But I managed to stick to my altitude and effectively manage the nose so that I didn't wallow through them. Like almost everyone else, I have a preference for one direction over the other, and my left turns are smoother than my rights.

Then we did some slow flight (in similar fashion as my solo practice last week). This also went off without a hitch, as I had some nice, clean breaks as the wings stalled and I brought the nose level (not down!). The biggest problem (if you can really call it that) is just getting the power and pitch set just right rather than fiddling with them for a minute. It's not that I can't perform the required tasks, but it would show much better form and be smoother if I could target the airspeed with fewer fluctuations.

We followed with another couple of steep turns, even better than the first sets. I began to think (and still do) that part of my problem is just the number of hours per week that I am able to fly. Way back when, I was flying two - and occasionally three - times a week. Now, I'm down to once, sometimes twice. I think if I could fly a bit more consistently, I'd have the entire thing handled.

Next came some more hood work. This is where things kind of came apart, and never really recovered. I had much more difficulty than I remember ever having maintaining basic control while performing radio and navigation tasks. My altitude wandered (badly), my heading wasn't much better, and I was just really getting behind the plane. We did a constant rate descent, which was much descending, but little that could be considered "constant". I think it was about this time that my instructor decided that I would need another flight before the checkride. Little did he know that I had more to reinforce that feeling.

We went back in to the field for some touch-and-go's, and the first approach was dead-on. I did my best at keeping a stabilized descent, and then had a smooth touchdown. We went back up, and then I tried a no-flap landing. I don't remember the last one of these that I tried, but I couldn't even get the plane slowed to touchdown. I felt like it was going to bounce, so I just added power to try again.

So we changed it around a bit, and added a "power failure" in the pattern, again with no flaps. This time, knowing that it took so long to get down before, I went a bit too far on downwind. If this had been a real emergency, they'd probably still be picking the plane out of the weeds. In any case, we did make it back down safely, and I tried it again. This time, I turned in towards the runway, but we again had too much speed, and I couldn't get the wheels down without a bounce. So I went around again.

This time, we had to extend the downwind for other traffic. I decided that with half flaps, I would slow the plane so that we weren't so far out when it came time to turn base. But I didn't realize just how far out we were, and we had the longest final approach in history at 80 knots, two miles out. The nice thing was that the approach was right on, and the landing was decent, with the only negative being slightly off centerline. One more approach for a short field landing, also which turned out just right, but again off to the left.

The final analysis: I'm a safe, competent pilot, but my flying needs quite a bit more spit and polish to satisfy an examiner. One more session with the instructor is in order, again.

One More To Go

2008-01-11T22:03:00.000-07:00

As per the instructor's recommendation, I took another solo flight today under an overcast sky to work some more on the required PTS maneuvers. I decided to formalize my plan the night before, mimicking the syllabus and my typical flights with the instructor. This would help me to organize my thoughts and give me something to follow, rather than aimlessly going around the sky trying to decide what to do next.

The plan worked out well, with minor modifications due to another plane being in the practice area. I wrote down everything that I wanted to do, from takeoff to landing. I included a soft-field takeoff (complete with speed notations), my target altitude, a VOR intercept, and then to the practice area. My mini "flight plan" gave me hard standards to work toward, and made sure that I was always doing something worthwhile.

I also wrote down the maneuvers I would practice. I included some power/pitch climbs and descents, a return to my original target altitude, intercepting another VOR radial, and then clearing turns for slow flight. Slow flight consisted of full- and partial-flap flight, while maintaining altitude, and then a power-off stall.

Then, I went into some steep turns, which are coming along nicely. I think they might go better with the extra weight of an instructor, but I don't know why they would. Maybe it's my imagination. In any event, I did much better maintaining altitude and not letting the nose deviate too far from level.

Finally, I descended to "pattern altitude" and performed some ground-reference maneuvers. I haven't had much chance to do these lately, especially with any decent wind, so today's 20-knot breeze kept them interesting. I managed one good turn around a point and one that was a bit wonky, but my S-turns were in need of some help, and I lost a bit too much altitude watching the ground slip away in the wind.

By this time, I had burned up nearly an hour, had reached the end of my maneuver checklist, and went back in for a couple of touch-and-go's. About all there is to say about my landings is that I really need to get my airspeed under control earlier on base and final. Just about every single one is high and fast. I know there's probably a simple answer, like pulling the power back just a bit more, or keeping my pattern altitude about 100' lower, but it will just take some experimentation. My instructor seems to think I'm doing okay, but I don't know if it will be good enough for the examiner. As it is, the actual landings are very smooth, but I don't think any of them will qualify as "short-field".

According to the latest plan, I will have one more flight with the instructor, and then we'll schedule a checkride.

Still In The 40's

2008-01-07T19:37:00.001-07:00

A new year, and another flight in the books...I think my instructor is trying to make sure I stay humble. Today was (in my mind) to be one of the last lessons before my checkride, and indeed it is. But my instructor wants me to take another solo and then one more with him to get all of the maneuvers dialed in. By the time I take my checkride, I'll be at about 46 hours, which still puts me firmly in the low-time category. It never was my goal to do any better than average, so it's a pleasant feeling to beat that (by quite a bit).

Nevertheless, it gives both my instructor and myself the opportunity to really tighten up the tolerances and identify critical test tasks that can sometimes trip up the student. It's the really small details, too:
--Taking a few extra feet to make sure the nosewheel is straight before a short-field takeoff
--Sticking the best-rate-of-climb airspeed on climbout
--Making a smooth level-off, airspeed increase, and power reduction without altitude fluctuations
--Not hurrying through the procedures, but rather thinking them through beforehand
--Taking the "emergency" all the way to "touchdown" - including things like briefing passengers and securing the cockpit
--Mentally reducing the typical 100' altitude tolerances during maneuvers to 50'
--Getting the airspeed down to a stabilized approach speed a bit sooner on final
--Do those clearing turns

We did another combination of maneuvers today that included steep turns (much better this time), stalls, hood work, slow flight, and emergency descents. Most of it was "reruns", but we did do something new today. We overflew the field at about 4500' AGL, and performed an engine-out spiral descent to landing. This is a way to lose altitude when you have an ideal emergency landing site in reach, and you don't want to fly too far away. The trick here is to coordinate the turns and descent rate so that you end up close to the end of the field as you enter a typical base leg.

This was the maneuver that I didn't do last time, since I didn't know how the math would work out. Now, it was good to see that I could properly judge the distances and turn rates required to make it all come together into a fairly smooth landing (just a little bounce, thank you). Amazingly, even though much of this descent was in a downward spiral (still at best glide speed), the profile was nearly identical to last time's. Roughly 4500 vertical feet and just under 10 horizontal miles. I watched the altimeter tick off the drop, while I kept my turn rate and airspeed constant. As I turned about 180 degrees (in a bit of a rectangle), I had lost about 1000 feet. So I did a 360 to lose another 2000 or so, which put me just a bit high, but still workable on a bit of a wide pattern. I also could see that another circle would be trouble. So I kept it a bit wide and went ahead with flaps. As I turned final, the rest of the flaps came in, and it was a smooth descent. I had a touch too much speed, so there was a little hop, but the nose stayed up and it planted firmly as the main wheels touched down.

Then, we switched to the narrow intersecting runway to do a short-field landing. This also worked out well, although while my speed was good for a normal landing, it would have been a bit too much for a truly short field.

So, it's another couple of hours before I'll be released for a checkride, but there's not a whole lot else I can do than keep tightening the tolerances and working toward a perfect flight.

Weekly Checkup

2007-12-27T18:12:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aviate - Navigate - Communicate

2007-12-16T20:21:00.001-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tying a Knot

2007-12-15T19:52:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

Not So Fast

2007-12-14T15:34:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

Just a Test

2007-12-08T17:54:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

Bad Attitudes

2007-12-01T14:40:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

Back from Holiday

2007-11-28T20:20:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YOYO (You're On Your Own)

2007-11-14T22:02:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loose Ends

2007-11-05T20:00:00.001-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Real-time Weather Decisions

2007-11-04T22:38:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Over the Hills and Far Away

2007-11-02T19:34:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

Flying for Fun

2007-10-29T19:24:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

More Hood Time

2007-10-25T20:55:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

After Dark

2007-10-25T00:25:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where's the Wind?

2007-10-22T20:26:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coming up...night flying?

Experimental

2007-10-15T22:35:00.001-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally Some Solo Time

2007-10-11T21:35:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Windy Windy Windy

2007-10-10T21:04:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wild Card

2007-10-08T20:32:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Winds of Change

2007-09-26T22:33:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Red Bull Air Races - San Diego

2007-09-25T21:15:00.000-06:00

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

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

A really nice behind the scenes:

A decent compilation from the other side of the bay:

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

A bit of the Red Bull stunt helicopter:

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

Foiled Again

2007-09-25T20:10:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

So we shall hope for better winds tomorrow.

Wind Practice

2007-09-17T20:37:00.001-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Within Reach

2007-09-12T21:10:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

So, maybe next time....

Motivation Insights

2007-09-04T20:10:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

You have to love to fly.

Getting There

2007-09-01T09:17:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

Dialing It In

2007-08-18T11:11:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Transition - Part 2

2007-08-15T21:10:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

The Transition - Part 1

2007-08-15T20:54:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Emergency

2007-08-10T21:43:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ground Reference

2007-08-04T13:36:00.001-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

Miscommunication

2007-08-01T20:37:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steep Turns (In Turbulence)

2007-07-31T22:14:00.000-06:00

After a 10-day hiatus, I was back in the air again today. The afternoon was the only time available and so I had to contend with pretty choppy thermals while practicing steep turns. These are banking turns over 30 degrees, and in this case, were supposed to be 45 degrees. Unfortunately, that ended up being more difficult than I anticipated, especially after doing a few slow ones last time. When all was said and done, my instructor and I decided to relax the altitude monitoring and just focus on maintaining speed and rolling out on the right heading. On that count, things weren't too bad.

We also did some stalls, which I tried to complete a bit more crisp than last time, and I did for the most part. In the warm air, the bottom dropped out on one of them, and we actually nosed down more severely than typical for this plane (although still nowhere near a Cessna 150). Nevertheless, recovery was much smoother, especially from a rudder standpoint. This plane really likes to turn left and I was definitely making an effort to remember plenty of right rudder.

Upon deciding to return to the field, we had to lose about 3000 feet of altitude in about 6 miles. Not a bad task, but it would have felt uncomfortable to someone not accustomed to a small plane's motion. I think we were descending at about 1500 feet per minute or so. It was a good exercise to make sure I could keep the speed under control, which I did well, according to the instructor. Our ground speed during this was about 140 mph.

Then it was time for a little pattern work, slow flight over the runway (low approach), a touch and go, and then landing. Luckily, the bouncy air wasn't as bad right near the field, except for the little thermal pockets and a touch of crosswind just over the runway. The absolute key to success here is only glancing at the near end of the runway while keeping most of your gaze out to the horizon and the far end. I had a bit of trouble staying as low as my instructor wanted, but the second time around was better. Then, I had the controls all the way to landing on the third go-around.

All in all, this was a bit of a stressful flight due to the thermals, but not for the reasons I would have thought. I usually don't like turbulence for the simple fact that it is uncomfortable. This time, though, I think I was concentrating so much on simply flying the plane that it was more of a nuisance and didn't really bother me physically. Good to know. And it's also a good thing to be able to fly in it, just in case my checkride ends up being on a hot day.

Stalls

2007-07-20T22:41:00.000-06:00

Today, we worked on slow flight and stalls. With all of the flying that I have done, I am most familiar and comfortable with taking off, going somewhere, and then landing. The various maneuvers that go along with this are pretty simple, and they come the easiest to me (basic turns, holding heading, working the throttle, maintaining airspeed). In a normal flight, you don't experience the types of attitudes, sounds, and feel that go along with stalls and other exercises required for the license.

So, with this in mind, combined with what I have heard from other pilots about stalls (and spins), today I was a bit more anxious than the first lesson. My takeoff was meandering down the runway, I was too light on the controls, and I just had that sinking feeling that something was going to happen that I wasn't going to like. It was harder to concentrate on the procedures, although I am pretty much officially in charge of the radio communication (even though I miss a detail now and then). I definitely feel like many others, who face a barrage of information and struggle to maintain a good scan of the instruments (especially the engine side of the panel).

Today's flight, then, was a bit of practice with the slow, shallow banks, which I can handle pretty well. Then came a power-on stall, which is done by applying full power with the takeoff flaps deployed, simulating a too-steep climb out after takeoff. The plane's nose comes up, the stall horn is buzzing (not the electric kind, either, but the "kazoo" that just uses the suction on the wing).

The short version of events is that I am one of the 98% who just can't keep enough right rudder in to offset the left-turning tendencies. Some more reading and mentally connecting the rudder to the bank of the wings may help in the future.

Traffic Avoidance

2007-07-17T19:25:00.001-06:00

Today, we learned about traffic avoidance....but more on that later.

First, we had a bit of ground instruction regarding the pattern and signs around the field. A little bit of talk about left-turning tendencies and slow flight, the main focus of today's lesson.

The plane was fueled up during our office time, and I had the preflight all to myself while the instructor took care of some admin. stuff. This was a different plane, but was covered in bugs like the other one. The weather today was concerning me, since there was a broken layer and some light sprinkles, but it was up at 12,000 and VFR for the practice area.

Again, I handled the radios, this time remembering to inform the controller that I had the proper ATIS weather information. I handled the taxiing much better as well, not repeating my prior imitation of an inebriated airline pilot. This plane has a castering nosewheel, so taxiing is done with power and brakes. When setting up for the run-up, the plane should be allowed to coast straight so as not to load the nose in a turning condition.

Although there were about 6 planes in the air, including a glider, as I arrived at the field, there was no one else around during takeoff. Takeoff itself also went much better, without a big yaw to the left as I did last time. I tried a mental technique of pressing the right rudder like a car's gas pedal (accelerating down the runway). It worked too well, and I yawed a bit to the right, but not badly. The DA-20 lifts off at about 45 knots, so it doesn't take long to get up in the air.
Climbout was smooth and we went a bit higher than last time to have room for slow flight and descending turns, to prepare for pattern work. At altitude, we did two clearing turns and then proceeded into two level 360's. They sure seemed fine when I did them (at least the altitude was good), but looking at the GPS track, I can see I'll need some work on ground reference (although that wasn't a concern today).

Then we slowed down and put out full flaps to practice rolling on a heading as we did before. This time, though, the slow speed makes everything "mushy" and exaggerated. It was hard enough before, but this time I had to keep arresting the big yaws I was creating. While still slow, we did some 90 degree descending turns. These were pretty uneventful, except for an inadvertent stall due to a wind gust. Then another climb, level off, and then slow down with flaps again. We did another descending turn and then a descending 180. Back up, then power to idle to practice a gliding, descending turn as would be needed in an emergency. The DA-20 has a gliding ratio of about 11:1.

Finally, we added power, climbed up a bit and leveled off for the inbound leg to the field. About this time, we called the tower, and heard the clearance for the school's other DA-20 to take off. As we were looking for it where it was "supposed to be", it magically appeared in front of us and I made a little bank to make sure we stayed clear. He probably saw us first (we were looking toward the sun) since he also steered clear. Pretty much a non-event, but still added a bit of excitement.

I flew most of the pattern from downwind to base, to final. I held final pretty far down (for a second-timer) and the instructor took the landing at about 300 feet AGL. Then it was a taxi back and time to go to work again.

The First Flight

2007-07-12T19:50:00.000-06:00

It's a strange feeling to be in such a familiar environment, but yet have everything seem so different. Going through the preflight was very straightforward, and I had performed several of the steps myself on my dad's plane years ago. Not only that, but the DA-20 is fairly simple, and so there's not much to really check.

Sitting in the left seat was definitely unique, however. I recall only one time that I have operated any of an aircraft's controls from the left seat (of my dad's 172), and that was just to start the engine and then shut it down. I remember that I was so nervous, I was shaking (I must have been about 13 or 14 years old) but it was still something that I had seen so many times before.

Today was dramatically different. I was nervous, but not overly so. I had the checklist in my hand, and again, the plane is very simple. Startup was very smooth, and the engine came to life immediately. The DA-20 seems to have a greater length of travel for the throttle than the Cessnas I've been in, so my observations of the pilot's movements didn't translate to this one. It takes quite a bit to get the throttle set properly, and that was something that took getting used to throughout the flight.

As far as the lesson itself, things went very well. I think all my "book learning" has benefited me, but not as much as simply being a passenger so many times. Once we started moving, all I could think of was all of the various things I "knew" I was supposed to be watching, but I could only concentrate on keeping the plane going in the right direction. Obviously, though, no instructor would expect a first-timer to handle everything, so I had to remind myself to just take it one step at a time.

We did the basics, a smooth climb, straight-and-level, some medium bank turns, descents, Dutch rolls, and some playing with the flaps. (I see that the definition of the Dutch roll indicates that what we really did was "roll on a heading"). This aircraft requires very little left rudder due to the inherent left-turning tendencies; the right rudder gets quite a bit of attention. Then I was free to just try out some turns and see how the plane handled. Before I knew it, our hour was about up, and it was time to head in. By the way, I handled the radio communication during the entire flight, something that apparently most students handle a bit later. But it went fine. There was very little traffic in the area, so we were the only one in the pattern during the return.

The weather was warm, with some distant cumulus clouds that had me worried about thermals. Upon gaining some altitude, it was much smoother than expected (at least, for someone who's had some experience with mild turbulence). In any case, it didn't make the plane do much more than smooth dips and climbs, rather than be very choppy and rough.

About all I can say is, I'm ready to go again. So far, so good.

The Anticipation

2007-07-11T20:22:00.000-06:00

Well, tomorrow's the big day. I'm a bit nervous, to be sure, but not as much as I would have thought. It will be a strange feeling, to be in the familiar surroundings of a small plane cockpit, but to also be "in charge" of making it go where it needs to go.

The checklist for tomorrow's lesson deals with the basic administrative stuff, like required paperwork, aircraft checklists, school rules, etc. The flying portion will include preflight inspection, basic radio operation, ground movement, and then basic flight (straight and level, shallow turns).

I suppose I'll brush up on the aircraft's operating handbook to try to have as much of the material memorized as possible, although I'm sure it won't really be needed this early in the game. The first flight is usually pretty low key, to let the instructor see how the student can handle flight (and vice versa).

The Money

2007-07-01T13:06:00.000-06:00

All I can say is, if I'd have known about the possibilities and the attractive terms of education loans sooner, I'd already have my certificate.

Wow. Yes, flight training is expensive (but what isn't?) but there are some great deals out there. After looking at a couple of options (scholarships don't apply to me, but they are definitely something to look at if you are a true "student"), I have decided on applying for a Sallie Mae Career Training Loan. This is a great deal, and I just found out that you don't have to repay until the loan is completely disbursed. So, for instance, if you take out $10,000 to cover flight training for two years, and you have them disburse it in four equal $2,500 payments to the school, you don't need to start paying the money back until that last disbursement goes out in a year and a half. Not bad!
(ed.: NOT! I found out the rep at Sallie Mae doesn't know what she's talking about...suffice to say that the payments start 30 days after the FIRST disbursement...whatever...at least I get to fly...)
And the terms aren't too scary, either. You can repay over a maximum of 15 years, and the rate is a variable prime + X, where the X is based on your (and cosigner's) credit history. Right now, the prime rate is 8.25% or so, so you could finance a 10 or 15 year loan at a fairly reasonable rate.

It's very easy to apply, but I recommend getting ahold of the application beforehand, since I got partway into it and then found out I needed some information I didn't have with me. Then, I had to call the customer service folks to help me finish it off. Even so, the person I spoke with was very helpful, and it wasn't the big pain I thought it would be.

So, once the loan is finalized and the school has their initial payment, I can actually start flying.

Oh, except there is the little issue of insurance. If you are renting a plane, you will want insurance. I have a small reprieve, since I am a student. The school's insurance covers the plane as long as I am flying with the instructor. As soon as I am ready to solo, I will need my own coverage. So, for now, I can avoid the expense, but I will need to start shopping it around.

The Online Information Universe

2007-07-01T12:44:00.000-06:00

There is just too much out there. You can only read so much before you need to experience life in person....I am about as prepared as a person can be. I am to the point where I simply can't read anymore. It's the same stuff over and over again. Airplanes and flight are fairly simple, and there's no arguing with the laws of physics. Now, I just need to work with an instructor to put it all into order and perspective and start providing some structure to the whole endeavor.

But not before I let you in on the long list of materials available to you if you so desire to wallow in aeronautical knowledge:

The Aeronautical Information Manual (AIM)

Airplane Flying Handbook

Aviation Weather

Aviation Weather Services

Pilot's Handbook of Aeronautical Knowledge

FAA Practical Test Standards

FAA Weight and Balance Handbook

FAA Examiner's Handbook

FAA Instrument Procedures Handbook

A pile of FAA Advisory Circulars, AOPA pdf files, and even the POH for the Diamond DA-20 that I will be flying soon.

Naturally, some of these things will need to be purchased, just due to the inconvenience of printing out a couple thousand pages....but for the initial familiarization of the material, it's a good way to start off cheap. On top of that, I will need to obtain the FAR (14 CFR) and that's not available in an easy-to-download format. So my next purchase will almost definitely be the FAR/AIM combo book.

On top of all THIS, then, are the handful of VFR sectionals that I picked up recently.

If you add up all of the costs of the little things, I've probably spent just under $200. Compared to entering ground school with little or no background, I'd say it's money well spent. Also considering that I've spent a couple hundred hours just simply reading as well as about 18 hours in the copilot's seat of my friend's plane in the last year (actually navigating, mind you), I'm hoping to have a leg up on the expensive side of the training equation.

Go/No-go

2007-07-01T12:24:00.000-06:00

The go/no-go decision is a fundamental in any form of aviation. It refers to the review of the pilot, the aircraft, and the environment and an evaluation of whether the flight will be safe or should be postponed.

Of course, a similar decision must be made even when deciding whether or not to learn to fly in the first place. As you can see, I have pretty much decided to "go", but at this point, I still have not finalized the loan, scheduled a first lesson, or otherwise seriously committed my time and money. I could still back out if I wanted to. I am at the edge at which many people find themselves, whether faced with a decision like mine or something else...a new job, a new relationship, a child, or maybe even just trying to decide whether to get a pet.

Unless you are very impulsive, you learn as much as you can up front, to decide whether you are on the right track or not. As have I. I mentioned that I played around quite a bit with the computer flight simulators. And I have also bought quite a few books about aviation. Of course, these things only go so far, and I will soon have to literally put my money where my mouth is, as I kiss my finances goodbye....

Nevertheless, I will list the books that I have acquired so far, and I will leave it to you to decide how much is too much.

"The Student Pilot's Flight Manual" by William Kershner
A very complete step-by-step lesson plan for the private license.

"Stick and Rudder" by Wolfgang Langewiesche
A classic description of the "feel" of flying and a good translation of airplane behavior into English.

"Avoiding Common Pilot Errors" by John Stewart
Written by an Air Traffic Controller, this book is probably better suited for someone who has some flying experience, but on the other hand, it is a good idea to avoid bad habits altogether rather than try to un-learn them.

"101 Things To Do With Your Private Pilot's License" by Leroy Cook
Another book better suited for post-checkride flying, but still a good reference for keeping a few advanced tidbits in the back of your mind while learning.

"A Guide to Weather" by Richard Whitaker, Editor (written by a whole bunch of meteorologist-types)
This is a non-aviation book, but I picked it up because of the very good photos, illustrations, and descriptions of common weather patterns.

That's it....Of course, that's just the list of the books I actually paid for....Then there are the other little things:

A membership to AOPA gets you the AOPA Airport Directory and a subscription to AOPA Pilot or Flight Training (I receive the latter).

A subscription to Plane & Pilot magazine

Free samples from local FBO's of GA News and Pacific Flyer periodicals

Countless AOPA, ASF, and FAA brochures, booklets, pamphlets, leaflets, flyers, etc., etc. about every topic you can think of

Various sample packages due to my various subscriptions and online visits, such as aircraft manufacturers' brochures, sample training DVD's, etc.

And that's just the printed material....I've got a heap of paper and not a single hour of instruction time yet....I can't wait; can you tell?

The Preparation

2007-06-28T23:48:00.000-06:00

Yes, it all started much longer ago than I can really go into. So we'll stick to the nuts and bolts for this one.

Like many budding pilots, I spent my time puttering around in Microsoft's various flight simulator worlds. I've never tried the latest incarnations, having decided that simulation only gets you so far. Playing FS2002, I have found that I probably will end up in the category of students who begin training with a fairly substantial knowledge of instruments and basic maneuvers. Of course, the physical tasks, the weather, and the looking outside (among many other things) will all be major learning curves. But I have read that students who have spent at least some time playing the games arrive more prepared for some of the steps. The same goes for those who have been flying in a small plane before, which I have done quite a bit of. So I am optimistic that my training time will at least be average (60 to 70 hours compared to the required 40).

I have subscribed to AOPA Flight Training magazine for about two years, so I have been gearing up for the real thing by reading articles and familiarizing myself with the FAA regs. I have also bought several books (which I will describe next time), downloaded countless books and publications online, and have generally tried to absorb as much about flying as possible without actually operating the aircraft myself. We shall see how much of this pays off and how many bad habits I'll need to unlearn.

It's Time

2007-06-28T23:26:00.000-06:00

So I'm ready to do it.

The money is almost in place.

The time is becoming more and more free.

Work is not the attention-deficit-disorder inducing circus that it once was.

The spouse is slowly overcoming the fear and loathing (or is it just shock and awe?)

The school has been shopped around. The instructors have been questioned. The planes have been sufficiently gawked at and caressed.

It's time to fly.

It's also time to give some voice to my background and experiences that have led me to this point and to my upcoming flight training. Undoubtedly, there are many blogs on this subject, and many real books as well. Indeed, I have already purchased many of them. But if you are a true student of flight, you have probably already discovered that there is no such thing as too much information. There are always new avenues to explore and new lessons to be learned (hopefully at someone else's expense).

It is always fun to observe the progress along one's own and others' paths. This is my purpose. With luck, this online journal will fill in the emotional and other non-flying gaps in the logbook to allow me to see that I am moving forward. I expect that there will be a few plateaus along the way, and I hope they do not become too discouraging. I have already done more reading than my friend who already has his certificate. I think it will work out all right.