Pre-Solo

Despite my neglect of the blog, I have been making some progress on getting my private pilot's ticket. This week I've flown three times, and I've had some exciting new experiences: my first interaction with ATC at a towered airport, my longest short cross-country to date, and my first interaction with a VOR. Also notable was my first encounter with the dreaded Spin Monster.

My first interaction with ATC came yesterday, when Bryan and I flew across the county to Lakeland Linder. It's a short flight, maybe 15 minutes, but that's five minutes longer than the flights I've taken to the practice area or to Bartow. Bryan reviewed communication procedures with me before we called the tower.

Contrary to my expectations, I found communicating with the control tower easier than listening to the CTAF at Winter Haven. The Tower controls all within their airspace, and it relieves a lot of the workload associated with the CTAF. You still have to look for other traffic and keep yourself alert, but the bottom line is that the tower--at least in my limited experience--made things easier. And despite the terror that many students feel, I found the tower controllers to be brisk and courteous.

We did a few tough-and-go's from Lakeland before departing the Class D airspace and heading back to Winter Haven to finish up our lesson for the day. On the way home, we introduced the VOR, a device I'm loosely familiar with from my flight-sim experience and ground schooling.

After our lesson, Bryan told me he wanted me to solo. To do that, I have to get a stage check--where a second CFI flies with me and reviews my skills--and I have to get some paperwork with my medical certificate sorted out. Apparently I got a medical without a student pilot certificate, but I've seen an AME since then and sorted it all out.

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Today, I had the stage check. It was a little intimidating. My normal CFI, who is a pretty laid-back guy, sent me up with another CFI from the school just to verify with a second set of eyes that I am solo-capable. The second CFI was an old crusty geezer who's been flying since the dawn of time. Intimidated as I was by his gruffness and experience, it was nice to know that there would be a seasoned pilot in the right seat.

We flew North from the airport to the practice area, where we did some basic maneuvers: slow flight (needs practice), power-off stalls (needs practice), power-on stalls (needs practice), and turns to a heading (acceptable).

After checking those maneuvers with me, the CFI asked me about spins.

"I've done the reading on them, but Bryan and I have not practiced spins yet."
"No? Well, lemme show ya. My airplane." The instructor grabbed the yoke, pulled the power, applied carb heat and swung us up in a climbing arc to the left. "Grab the controls, feel what I do." He stalled the plane, and with an alarming swing the plane began to spin wildly around the left wingtip. Suddenly the ground, emerald green in the Florida sun, was looming in the windhsield and spinning wildly. "Just like you read," he told me calmly, "neutral aileron, full opposite rudder, nose down. Get your power back and stabilize yourself." The plane popped neatly out of the spin, and we climbed back to altitude. My heart was racing: that was terrifying. It was frightful. It was...strangely enjoyable.










We climbed back to altitude, and the old CFI took the wheel again and put us into a spin. "Your airplane," he told me as we nosed over into the spin. I grabbed the yoke, neutralized the ailerons, stomped the rudder, and was relieved when the plane again popped out of the spin. "Good job. That's your intro to spins. Don't ever try to practice them without someone else. You'll kill yourself."

I have no plans to intentionally spin anytime soon, though it was nice to see one in training to know how to get out of it later.

After the spin, we returned to the field and practiced some touch-and-go's. The CFI pulled power on me twice in the traffic pattern to practice engine-out landings. The first one went fairly well, and we set it down on the runway and in one piece before departing again.

The second one I completely botched: I put flaps in, then took them out, and if it had been a real emergency chances are I could have killed us. But I learned from my mistake: no flaps for an engine out until you have made your landing spot! Nevertheless, I felt foolish for my error and I hope I never make that mistake again. We took off again, then came back for a landing on which the CFI killed the engine on me again to see what I'd do. It went better, and we taxied to the terminal and parked.

On the whole, I passed my Stage Check. The CFI told me to work on my stalls and my slow flight, and he advised me to work on my landings to make them smoother. He also told me to tighten my traffic pattern, but despite my shortcomings he felt I was ready to solo.

Now, I have a written exam to complete, and if I do well, the school will let me solo on my next flight. Exciting times!

Clouds:

"A cloud does not know why it moves in just such a direction and at such a speed; it feels an impulsion, this is the place to go now. But the sky knows the reasons and the patterns behind all clouds, and you will know too, when you lift yourself high enough to see beyond horizons. "

~Richard Bach, "Illusions: the adventures of a reluctant messiah."

Landings: At Last

Today was a day of breakthroughs. A lot of the pilots I have talked to have told me that there comes a moment in time when suddenly, landings just "click." You grasp the mechanics of landing and suddenly you can put the plane on the ground, no problem. I was eagerly awaiting the click, as I'd been having massive difficulty with the landing process from power management to the deadly flare. It seemed that every landing was too slow, too low, or too fast. I had a scary tailstrike which struck fear into my heart.

On my last lesson, my instructor was tired of watching me struggle, so he took me out to the practice area and worked on rudder control with a series of exercises. He then had me fly the plane back to the airport using only rudder, and then we did a series of landings where we split responsibility of duties. He would do power while I did pitch, and then vice-versa. Those exercises solidified landing in my head, and I ended the day by squeaking out a fairly good landing.

Today, we preflighted the plane and Bryan briefed me. He told me that we'd go for a change of scenery and fly to Bartow, a mere seven miles from the Winter Haven airport. There we would do some touch-and-go's and then head back to Winter Haven for simulated power failures.

Normally, Bartow is a controlled airport, but it was after 5PM and the controller had gone home for the day, so the tower frequency on the radio became a CTAF. We called our position and entered the pattern at a 45-degree standard entry, then circled around to land. The runway at Bartow is much wider than the runway at Winter Haven, and the different sight picture helped me immensely.

I pulled the power, pushed the flaps, executed a passable flare, and squeaked down for the best landing I've made to date. It may not have been a perfect 10, but in MY book, it felt amazing: no bounce, no porpoise, no balloon, just a perfect greaser of a landing. I smiled ear to ear as I pulled the flaps up, pushed the carb heat to COLD and advanced the throttle. The plane soared into the sky and I executed five more successful landings (there was a bit of a crosswind, so they weren't perfect by any means, but they were my best landings yet) before we left Bartow for Winter Haven.

On our return to Winter Haven we entered the pattern, did one touch-and-go, and then Bryan demonstrated a perfect simulated engine failure. He pulled the throttle, pitched for our Cessna 150's best-glide speed of 70mph, and circled the plane in for a perfect landing. We took off again, and I made an attempt at the same procedure, which was scary but which went fairly well.

At the end of the day, I logged 9 landings and 1.2 hours of time. It was the first time I'd flown to another airport, and the first time I made what I felt to be good landings. I felt really good about myself coming home tonight, and I'm excited for the next time I get to go up!

Sun N Fun

I haven't had much time to post here lately, but this news warrants reporting: The SUN N FUN started today!

I sat on the patio this morning with a cup of coffee and my binoculars and watched the planes come in. We live just off the holding pattern that the KLAL controllers hold the arrivals in, and so every few minutes a batch of planes would fly over...Cessnas, Pipers, a few Lakes, a Mooney, maybe a Grumman (not sure.) The classics flew over; an old Cub, what looked like a Taylorcraft, and even a Boeing Stearman. I'm pretty sure I saw a rare plane known as the OMF symphony. There were several twins flying over too, and what looked like a CitationJet.

We had business in Orlando, and so unfortunately I missed the arrival of the USAF Thunderbirds. But I will get to see them doing their airshow later this week!

Tomorrow, I will be at the airfield all day, wandering the rows of airplanes and watching the planes in the sky. Thursday I have an errand to run in the morning, and then in the afternoon I'll be going to the Splash-In at Fantasy of Flight. I have to work Friday and Saturday, and then Sunday I'll be at the show all day to see the planes off.

It will be sad to see the planes leave, but while they're here, I'll have a splendid time at the airshow.

Gonna land, gonna land, gonna land

I got to go flying again today. My CFI had encouraged me after our last flight to go up again sooner than at a two-week interval because, as he put it, "learning to land is a critical phase in flying." We took an hour and stayed in the traffic pattern around KGIF, doing a total of eight patterns and landings. I noticed a definite improvement in how I performed this time. Part of it is probably being able to go so close to another lesson; part of it is probably just practice.

Bryan told me that my traffic patterns today were almost perfect: nice turns for the most part, a good distance from the field, good altitude control. He mentioned that I need to watch my airspeed while turning base-to-final, and for some reason today I did struggle with being either too fast or too slow during the turns from downwind-base and base-final. Bryan illustrated this by talking me through one of my approaches:

"The critical thing is not to get too slow on your turn to final. You're making me nervous with those steep turns in to final and you're losing airspeed. If we stall here there's no time to recover. So we're not going to make that mistake any more. See how your airspeed is dropping when you turn in? You need to either add power or drop the nose to gain airspeed." I mulled his words over as we thumped into the ground on another practice landing and revved up for a takeoff.

On the next traffic pattern, I changed my viewpoint. I have spent a lot of time looking down the extended centerline of the airplane, but the issue with that is that the airspeed indicator is on the upper-left portion of the dashboard. So instead of looking down the extended centerline, I shifted my eyes to the corner of the windscreen closest to the airspeed indicator. I found that it helped me monitor my turns, and the fact that such a small shift in vision kept my airspeed indicator in view made an enormous difference. On the last few approaches, I made that change and maintained airspeed as well as flying a better traffic pattern.

The landings themselves are still a little rough. I am having trouble with the "flare" before touchdown where you pull the nose into the air and let the back wheels settle onto the pavement first. I tend to flare too soon, and then "balloon" up into the air before floating back down. The danger is that during a "balloon" you will lose airspeed, and if you have climbed a few feet you could end up crossing the line from "landing" to "crash." Not likely to be lethal, but very likely to be embarrassing and expensive.

The key is to constantly modify your flare. When Bryan flares, he tends to move the yoke quite a bit, making constant minute adjustments to the pitch. When I flare, I tend to make grosser, more outsized movements, which are less likely to lead to a smooth landing. I improved some today, and Bryan tells me it's "practice makes perfect." Landing is scientific, but it's an artsy science, and it just takes repetition to "grease" the landings.

In summary: I feel good about today. My traffic patterns were good, my ground handling was the best yet, and the preflight/runup/takeoff have been very smooth. I did forget to check the fuel selector, but that is an oversight that I can correct next time and never miss again. The landings are still a bit rough, but they are less rough than in the past, and getting better every time. It just takes practice. Lucky for me, I love to practice. I can't wait to go again.

Control Shyness, Overcontrol, Landings

Control Shyness, Overcontrol, and Landings

Control Shyness

Today was another productive flying lesson. Over almost two hours in the air, Bryan and I did at least ten solid traffic patterns and focused on learning to land. I identified a number of areas for improvement and felt like I learned something, which is always good.

Because I had not flown in a couple of weeks, I feel like my skill level was not where it was when I finished my last lesson. I am building skill, but it’s two steps forward and one step back with these sporadic lessons. It’s better than not flying at all, but it would be nice to go more consistently.

The first few traffic patterns were sort of drunken. In fact, on the first one up Bryan asked me what exactly I was doing. I was having a hard time focusing for some reason, but with his coaching I was soon straightened out and flying right. There was a slight wind blowing out of the Northwest which created some complications to handling as the active runway is on heading 050, just North of East. Immediately after takeoff it was necessary to kick in a little rudder to compensate for the wind and not drift off the extended centerline of the runway. Turning was a little more bumpy than usual, and I found myself having a harder time than usual holding an appropriate distance from the runway on the downwind leg. Also, when “abeam the number” and reducing power, I have a tendency to drift right. Bryan coached me on all of this, and as the lesson progressed I made an effort to tighten my turns and watch my position around the field.

Another problem that cropped up while flying today was on the base segment of the traffic pattern. Base is when you turn into the field so that you are flying towards but perpendicular to the runway. Turning to the base leg, one should be about 700 feet above ground level (AGL) and the runway should be about 45 degrees off the wing. Apparently, my perception of 45 degrees is incorrect, and I have been turning base much later than I should and flying a huge pattern. Bryan coached me on that and helped me tighten my pattern a little more, which led to better and better approaches to the runway as the lesson went on.

One of the big things I have been struggling with is control shyness. Control shyness is what I call the tendency of the student pilot to be afraid of the controls of the airplane. Sometimes when we are flying, I see that something is askew, but instead of fixing it I tend to ignore it or just live with it. This is incorrect. Bryan emphasized with me that if something is askew, as the PILOT IN COMMAND it is my responsibility to fix it. For example: if I over-turn and am at an odd angle to the runway, my tendency is to sort of “go with it.” This is wrong. There are many things that can go wrong in the air, and by “going with it” I am increasing the odds of instability or loss of control. “Grab the controls and make it right, man,” Bryan told me. “You’re flying the darn thing, you may as well use the controls you have.” He’s right.

The challenge here, though, is that I suffer from another student-pilot tendency: the tendency to fight myself at the controls by over controlling the aircraft. When I take Bryan’s advice and use the controls, I sometimes tend to over-control the airplane. That puts it askew, and then I find myself wrestling with the controls to correct the massive inputs I have been putting into them. The cure for this is to simply let go of the controls, let the airplane correct itself, and then focus on using gentler inputs. On my last three or four approaches, I used smaller control inputs and took some deep breaths to help myself focus. That seemed to dispel whatever it was that was keeping me from focusing well, and it really neatened up my turns and climbs.

In summary: today I learned a lot about control shyness and overcontrol. I learned about my own shortcomings. I learned how to remedy those shortcomings, and I learned to neaten up my traffic pattern and make tighter, more precise turns. Bryan actually suggested that I practice more in a flight simulator, which is something I’m more than happy to do. I learned that I need to ground myself and focus more. I learned that, when I really pay attention, I can fly a perfect traffic pattern, and I learned that I need to cultivate that focus and really polish my skills.

Landings

Landing an airplane is essential. Any airplane that takes off will land one way or another, and it is imperative that the pilot be able to make as well-controlled and safe a landing as possible. My landings to this point have been, on the whole, a little rough. I make two mistakes over and over: I balloon the airplane, and I land with all three wheels at once.

A perfect landing goes like this: the airplane has a stable approach to the field. On final, the runway centerline is aligned with the center of the aircraft, and the plane is descending along a glide-path that will place it smack on the end of the runway. As the plane crosses the threshold, the pilot pulls the nose up ever so gently, and the plane mushes gently into the ground rear wheels first, followed by a gentle letdown of the nose wheel.

My landings go like this: the approach is relatively stable. On final, the center of the aircraft is more or less aligned with the runway, though often it is too far to the left. The aircraft yaws its way to centerline, and then just as it crosses the numbers at the end of the runway, the pilot yanks the nose up and the plane floats into the sky. The pilot then lets out too much back pressure off of the yoke, and the plane noses down, then pulls back up, than thumps into the pavement and skids along the runway like a drunk trying to weave cones.

As you can see, my landings are far from perfect. My instructor did his best to coach me today, and by the end of the day, I felt some improvement. As I mentioned in my last post, we spent a lot of time focusing on the traffic pattern and setting up a stable approach. Every good landing has a well-planned approach behind it, and all that practice in the traffic pattern helped my landings.

Noticing my suboptimal landings, Bryan gave me two tips to help me improve. First: on final approach, imagine that there is a yardstick that goes from the dashboard to the end of the runway. Instead of looking at where the airplane IS, look further down the yardstick at where the airplane WILL BE. That helps you to fly ahead of the plane, and helps you to make better control inputs and plan your landing better. Just like driving, if you focus on a point further away you can maneuver better than if you’re driving ten feet in front of you.

The second tip from Bryan: don’t land the airplane. Instead of focusing on putting the plane on the ground, try to get as close to it as you can without touching it. “Imagine that it’s going to shock you,” he said, “and try not to touch it.” When I did that, the plane magically had a better landing than before. The rear wheels hit first, the front wheel came down gently, and things were suddenly a lot less bumpy and turbulent. Amazing!

After a number of landings, it was time for us to stop. I progressed from really bad to not as bad, and I feel like I learned something. Key points for me to remember: visualize your glide path. Visualizing your glide path helps you control the plane, and helps you plan ahead of the plane, both of which are important tasks. Also, don’t land the plane, just get really close to the ground and let it happen. Practice makes perfect; I really hope I can practice again soon.

High Flight

This poem was written by John Gillespie Magee, Jr., a pilot officer in the Royal Canadian Air Force in the early 1940's. Magee was inspired to write this poem while on a test flight at 30,000 feet. He was killed in action in a dogfight over Europe on December 11, 1941, at the age of 19.

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds--and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of--wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air.

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue

I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or even eagle flew

And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

Wow.