Back to Basics

Last week Chris and I decided we were going to go flying in the next bad weather, so he could take me up IFR. Then I could both see what it was like, and get my remaining instrument time in (the stuff I used the foggles for previously). Well, the weather didn't cooperate: the past two nights have been clear blue skies with almost no wind. Well, I can't complain!

With my check-ride scheduled, Chris and I had to go over the basic maneuvers to give me a refresher. It's been a while since I've done the basics; you don't really use "turns around a point" or "power-off stalls" when you're doing the cross-countries (at least, not if you do them right). Wednesday Chris decided it was time for us to go over stalls.

During the engine run-up prior to take-off, Chris told me I couldn't use the ailerons to take-off. I laughed at what I thought was his joke. He wasn't joking. I ended up taking-off with the trim wheel, which was a lot harder than I'd expected it to be. The planes tips back and forth a bit, and Chris insisted I could correct it with rudder only. I tried, but it wasn't a great take-off. I was just glad it was done. Then we were on to stalls.

There are two types of stalls: power-on and power-off. The idea is to simulate what it would be like if the airplane stalled while you were taking-off (power-on) or coming in to land (power-off). In both cases, the stall is created by having a combination of airspeed and angle-of-attack (that's the angle between the wing and the relative wind) such that the air no longer flows smoothly over the wing and basically means the wings aren't generating [much] lift. In both power-on and power-off, this simply means you need to have the nose too high for the speed you're going. Since you're going so much faster during a take-off, the angle is much steeper, whereas flying level can be enough to induce a stall if the power is off.

Chris decided to start with power-off stalls, the harder configuration to get into. Since it had been so long since I'd done them, I didn't remember the procedure. When I started touching the controls, Chris corrected me:

"You need to do clearing turns first."

Clearing turns are basically turns used to make sure there's no traffic or other obstacles in the way. A 90 degree turn to the left, then a 90 back to the right would work, but Chris said he generally likes to do one 360 (either to the left or right). I did it his way, just to try it.

Once I'd gotten that out of the way, Chris demonstrated the configurations, but so quickly that I didn't get them. Once I thought I knew what to do, I tried it. While I was eventually able to get the stall, I was losing a lot of altitude first and it took me a while. Chris was rattling off instructions the whole time, correcting me and telling me what I was doing wrong, then reminding me I had a time limit to induce the stall. With all of the warnings and directions he was spewing out, I felt certain I had screwed up royally. I tried it several more times and got better and better, but never great. Hell, I didn't even think I did good. If Chris had asked me "did you think you would have passed with how you just did?" I would have replied with a strong "hell no."

Power-on stalls I felt a bit better at. I still found myself in the situation with Chris directing me every step of the way, including "more right rudder! More! If you reach the secondary stall and don't have enough right rudder we could induce a spin." Needless to say, I was a bit nervous, and did reach the secondary stall at least once (but with enough rudder that we were plenty safe). The stall warning horn goes off inside the plane when you're anywhere near a stall, at which point I usually fix it. Trying to induce it is counter-intuitive, and left me feeling stressed. That, plus the fact that the secondary stall occurs within a fraction of a second of the primary stall made me even more uneasy. The lesson was not going well, I though.

Throughout the whole lesson Chris would catch me staring at the instruments that I wasn't supposed to be. "The only way you'll fail this test is if he catches you doing that. I promise you that." Since then I've been reminding myself: don't stare at the instruments! Glance!

As we finished stalls, Chris decided to try some unusual attitudes. These I liked, since I'd always been good at them. How they work is simple: I close my eyes and Chris puts the plane in an odd position, such as "steep right bank with the nose too high." For that example, I would turn it left to even out the bank, give it full power to prevent a stall, and nose down to correct my angle. We did one of those, then another one with the nose down this time. Same idea, but this time I made the mistake of putting the power in again, causing us to be diving down at about 155mph and stressing the engine more than I should. Oops. We did it twice more (both nose-down) and I pulled power -- as you should in that situation. I was feeling a bit better about myself, though stalls still were pissing me off.

As we came in for the landing on runway 36, Chris told me to land without ailerons. I wasn't keen on that idea, because I knew that if I didn't manage to flair the plane correctly, we'd smack the runway pretty hard, or possibly even prop-strike. And while I trusted Chris, I wasn't sure he'd let me abort and start using the yoke. Instead he told me he'd demonstrate, then have me do one next time we went flying. On final Chris looked like he was going to do it. We were all lined up, he was talking me through what he was doing and giving it nose-up trim as we came in over the runway. Hmm... we were still descending. More trim. Still descending. Isn't there supposed to be a flair in here somewhere?

THUD!

We smacked down on the runway pretty hard before bouncing back into the air. I think Chris pulled the yoke back, but only for a second. When we came back down it still wasn't a nice landing. I told him he botched it, and that he cheated. Claiming it had been a while since he did that, he showed me the trim wheel which was giving as much nose up as possible. Clearly it wasn't enough.

Before I left he gave me a list of things to use to make a lesson plan for Thursday. I was to decide what to do.

About the same time on Thursday I arrived. When Chris and I got into the plane he asked what the lesson plan was for the day. Having totally forgotten about it -- though not having time to do it anyway -- I apologized. Chris said that today was going to be ground reference then, which I was OK with.

Again, Chris wanted me to take-off without touching the yoke. After yesterday's decent (though not great) take-off, I was willing to try again. This time I did much better. In fact, I believe that if I'd have had passengers who didn't know that I was supposed to be touching the yoke, they wouldn't have had a problem with that take-off.

On the flight north towards the practice area I asked him to define ground reference. I had thought it was "recognizing things on the ground while flying from one place to another", but Chris corrected me: ground reference is turns-around-a-point, box-turns and S-turns.

We started with turns around a point. Again, Chris got to the point where he was giving constant instructions. I was doing a better job this time, but still not great. After one turn around a point, between 600-1000' above it (I was trying to hold 800' above) we moved on to box turns. About half-way through I got that: enter at a 45 degree angle into the downwind, steepest turn, level flight straight, medium turn into the next leg, shallow turn, straight, medium, straight, steep. That may be confusing, but just remember that you need to bank into the winds as they try to blow you off-course. That's all the varying angles of bank are for.

Finally we did S-turns. Those are turns making an S-turn over a straight line on the ground. Again, you have to enter from down-wind. The trick here is both altitude, and making sure your wings are level as you cross-over the line on the ground (in my case, telephone wires). After a few turns I was certainly getting better, but still didn't think I was good enough to pass the test. When I finished, Chris had me fly due west (staying at roughly 2000' AGL) to show me a grass airstrip.

I was flying along when suddenly the engine died. Normally, Chris pulls the throttle back and says "engine died", but not this time. No one touched the throttle or the mixture. Instantly I knew what was wrong. Jokingly I said, "uh oh, well, better pick a place to land!" as I reached down between us and turned to Fuel Shut-off Valve back to the "on" position. Chris had warned me since I started flying that someday he'd pull it on me, so I always check it once in a while, even on solo flights, just to be safe.

This time, as soon as I put it back on, Chris pulled the throttle. Clearly he wanted me to practice an emergency. I didn't have a field already picked out, like I should have, so I scanned for one. I saw one off the left wing and picked it. As soon as I did I thought "what the hell? you picked the field by the power lines? are you an idiot?!" I pitched the plane to 65kts (Best glide speed, though I should have done this AS I picked the field) before Chris said "there's a great Field under me." I looked, and sure enough there was a nice one there. I changed my mind and said I'd go there instead, but Chris said I'd never get set-up to land into the wind before suggesting another field straight-out. I changed my mind to that one again.

Finally Chris put the power back in. He was disappointed; that was the worst I'd messed up in a long time. When you pick a field, you STICK WITH IT! He warned me that my examiner would try to get me to pick another field. Don't! He warned me he may even throw a pen by my feet while I'm flying normally and ask me to get it. The correct response is "I'll get it when we land."

We made our way back to Oxford. Chris told me to tell him when I though we were close enough to make the runway. When I told him, he had me pull the power out and try to make it. We certainly cut it close, but managed to land past the take-off arrows (which mark the part of the runway you can take-off on, but not land on). Chris said I should've waited another 30 seconds before I said I could make it, but that I did make it, so he couldn't fault me.

When we got back inside, he told me that I would've failed. I wasn't surprised. But then he told me something else: if I hadn't had that one bad emergency, I would have passed -- both today and yesterday. I gave him a stunned look, to which he replied, "yeah, it really is a joke." Apparently all students go through what I am. Me being rusty at the basics isn't unique to me after all. Even just telling me that made me a lot more confident that I'll be able to get better before my test.

Chris gave me some homework: write down everything I know about flying, including every maneuver, etc. He also gave me a book to study during my long weekend. When I get back next Wednesday, Chris owns me until I get my license.

Less than two weeks. I can't wait to be a certified pilot.

Solo and a Treat

I got to the airport at about 6:10pm, earlier then normal. I preflighted the 152 (while Chris finished up with his prior student) and went inside. Matt (the student before me) was leaving as I sat down and Chris asked to see my logbook. I handed it to him, but was confused. I wondered if he was going to give me some sort of endorsement or sign-off, but he was just checking to make sure my math was correct, and to see if I was low on anything.

Turns out I was: I only had 2.1 hours of solo time, and I need something like 10 before I can take my test. Even if ALL I did from now until my check ride was solo flights I still couldn't do it in exactly 40 hours -- not that I was going to anyway. Some of that time will be done during my solo cross-country and solo long cross-country (a long cross-country is one in excess of 150 miles), but those together will be 5 hours, tops. I needed more.

"Go have fun. I'll be here when you land," Chris told me. No instruction on where to go, what to do, etc. Just, "if you have any problems, come back here." So I went!

I'm getting used to this whole "flying solo" thing, in that I can do it without thinking or worrying too much. I got into the plane and made a quick phone call to my friend Johnny before I took off: "I'm going flying. Be outside in 20 minutes and I'll fly over your house." Now I know that sounds bad, but I was at least 2000' AGL the whole time, and had wanted to explore over by where he lived for a while. Besides, I wanted to practice turns around a point, and his house seemed like as good a point as any.

Nothing unusual happened on the way up. I got cleared off runway 36 for a NE departure, and after a smooth run-up I did just that. The only spot worth mentioning was that once I completed my run-up and requested take-off from the tower, they said, "984 take-off runway 36 without delay." The "without delay" part was key. I had noticed he had just cleared another plane to come in for a landing, so I was expecting him to send me up after him. Nope, he let me go -- I just had to do it fast. So I did, without any problems. It was a little exciting though, seeing as it was something Chris and I hadn't really practiced before this.

So upon reaching 2700' I flew towards Waterbury and traced I-84. I passed by Johnny's house going East once before I saw it, so I turned around and went back, getting it in sight this time. I paged him on my phone, just to notify him I was overhead (but never spoke on it -- since I wouldn't be able to hear anything anyway).

I did three circles over his house (he told me later he did see me, though I wasn't sure if I saw him) before heading NW towards my practice area. I kept the radios tuned to 118.47, Oxford Tower's frequency, to listen for traffic. Supposedly there was another plane NE of the airport where I was, but I never found him, so clearly he wasn't too close. Flying from Waterbury to the practice area a lot more emergency fields showed up, and a lot less hills meant perfectly calm air. I continued West as I had in a previous solo, but with visibility better this time I opted to go further. More hills prompted me to fly higher -- up to 4500' the moment before I turned around (4500' is an East heading, while I was flying West, but I kept climbing until I decided to turn around just to be safe -- keeping a lookout for traffic the whole time). I saw one helicopter above me while I was still at about 3500', but we were never anywhere close.

I went as far as Candlelight Airport (untowered, but I called to warn any traffic I was in the area) which was surrounded by water. Chris said he'd be taking me here for short and soft fields, so this trip helped familiarize me with the area. After getting there I almost instantly turned around. I was doing a good job of checking instruments (is my heading indicator aligned properly? fuel shut-off valve still on? transponder set to Alt?). Oops! I forgot setting my transponder to Alt, so I switched it. It wasn't a big deal (and I told Chris after), but I should've caught it. Next time I'll be more mindful of it -- like my carb heat from the Goodspeed flight.

Flying back was a breeze. I got ATIS and called tower, who told me to enter left traffic and call mid-field down-wind. I was careful to lose altitude (by using less throttle, of course!) steadily on my flight back so as not to repeat the mistake I made with the bumpy landing on my last solo. Seeing as this landing was in the pattern it gave me more buffer room to get my altitude right so I'd be at 1700' by the time I called tower. Everything went fine, including my not-perfect-but-by-no-means-bad landing (started coming in high again, and touched down slightly bumpy). I was pleased.

When I got back to the airport I performed the "after landing" checklist and tied the plane down. I forgot to mention last time, but Chris warned me that if I pass my check ride, then don't tie down the plane properly I will FAIL! I NEED to remember to tie down the plane after my check ride. I went inside looking for Chris, but he was taxiing a plane over from the other side of the airport. (There are hangers and parking on both sides of Oxford.) When he got back, he asked me how things went and we talked for a few minutes. Next week (Tues, Wed, Thurs) we're hoping to go to Grotton, then have me solo to Grotton, plus one day of buffer time, if we need it.

Then Chris asked if I wanted to go for a ride. Him and his cousin Mike (he calls him Mikey) were taking a REALLY nice plane through the pattern once to test it out and see how it handled after Chris's uncle did some work on it. With a 300HP engine, 6 leather seats, GPS, retractable gear, one turbo prop, etc., this thing was a BEAST.

I climbed in the back for a joyride, and after having some trouble getting my door closed (this was the first time Chris was ever actually mean to me, remarking "you can fly the plane by yourself, but you need me to explain how to close the door") we were off. I wish I remembered what kind of plane it was -- some type of Piper, but it was so powerful that Chris was climbing at about 1500 feet per minute and it was going steady. It had so many technical bells and whistles that when he got close to another plane in the pattern a voice came on saying "traffic, traffic" and it appeared on one of the radars. So not just did this thing have the muscles to fly fast, it had the brains too.

Chris's landing was hard -- harder than the solo I'd had earlier. He taxied the three of us back in, then offered to take me up in the Bonanza, which was supposedly even faster. I wanted to, but it was after 8:30 and I had to finish laundry and get ready for my weekend (down in D.C.) so I left. Hopefully I'll get another chance to in the future sometime.

All-in-all it was a great night of flying! Next week should be even better!