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".
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Fits and Starts
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.
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.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Another First-Timer
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?
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?
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Phoenix
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.
Friday, April 4, 2008
All Over the Glass
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.
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.
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