Thunderstorms have been teasing the area the past two days and so there's not much to report, I'm afraid. We're grounded until the weather settles down, so we've spent the past two days watching videos and going over oral exam test questions. We watched 7 hours of these today...
7 hours of Martha King. I'm sure she'll be incorporated into my dreamscape tonight so now I'm too terrified to sleep.
Spent last night with Dave and Brittany and Dave's dad Lyle, who's in town overnight. Had a great meal of Prairie House barbeque and Shiner Bock. Always good to spend time with them... definitely one of my better choices to train here in Dallas, close to good friends.
Took the time tonight to finally go see The Dark Knight. The hype is justified... it's a great movie, with lots of surprises. And Heath Ledger really is a spectacular Joker. I really have nothing new to add to what's already been written about it, I guess. I'm just trying to stay awake...
7/31/08
7/29/08
Tuesday, July 29th
No solo x-country today. Ben had another exercise in mind for me... instrument navigation and unusual attitudes, which I had been looking forward to.
I have been through pilotage and dead-reckoning training, both of which rely on outside visual aids for navigation, and since this in Texas in the summer, we count on VFR conditions just about all the time. But there are instruments on a plane, even on a little Cessna like this, that will help me from getting lost if I happen to wander into IFR conditions. Hence, today's lesson featured a stylish new accessory.
Foggles. Designed to keep your eyes on the instrument panel only, to simulate flying through a cloud or thick fog, when the windshield becomes merely a shield for wind. Ben has me put them on at climbout, about 500 feet AGL, and they didn't come off for about 2 hours. Instrument panel, meet Ryan. Ryan... instrument panel.
Ben calls out headings and I use my heading indicator to aim for them. I maintain altitude (well, kinda... it's rough 102-degree air) and airspeed... not much to it, really. I just have to trust Ben to keep scanning for traffic. He also gives me a long lesson on using the onboard GPS and VOR radials to track to a particular location, in this case the Glen Rose VOR itself, which we lap around.
(Note to my San Diego kin... ever wonder why that big bowling pin is sticking out of the middle of Mission Bay? That's our VOR station.)
There's an extremely hazardous condition common to pilots known as spatial disorientation, which has killed many pilots... most notably JFK, Jr. With so many sensations going on during a flight, it's not difficult in IFR conditions to have the feeling that you're flying straight-and-level, when in fact you could be in a steep dive. Sometimes it's hard for your body to recognize the difference. The unusual attitudes exercise develops trust in one's flight instruments, which is paramount to combating spatial disorientation.
Ben has fun with this exercise, which starts with him taking the controls and telling me to close my eyes and put my head down. The plane starts weaving, dipping, climbing, banking... I was able to keep track of our position for a few seconds, but by by the time I hear "look up", I have no idea what to expect. I open my eyes and look at my gauges. Airspeed increasing rapidly... attitude is nose down and banked. Throttle out, ailerons neutral, recover from dive.
Another one, and upon looking up I see my airspeed slowing down about the same way. I cheated a bit here... I could easily tell that the sun was in my face so I knew I had to recover from this extreme climb before we stalled, and I did.
Another one, and this time the airspeed and attitude indicator were fine, which worried me for a split second until I realized that Ben had tried to pull a fast one. After all the dipping and diving, he had brought us to straight-and-level flight before telling me to open my eyes.
I kept the foggles on the whole way back, using the GPS to get back to Arlington. Ben handled the radio and gave me subtle instruction (5 degrees left, 2 degrees right, etc.), and by the time I got the order to remove the foggles, I was on right downwind for runway 16. Bounced the landing, but hell... I had been blind for the past two hours and I was a little discombobulated. Ben says it happens on all foggle flights.
Good flight, good day. Hoping the solo cross-country comes tomorrow.
I have been through pilotage and dead-reckoning training, both of which rely on outside visual aids for navigation, and since this in Texas in the summer, we count on VFR conditions just about all the time. But there are instruments on a plane, even on a little Cessna like this, that will help me from getting lost if I happen to wander into IFR conditions. Hence, today's lesson featured a stylish new accessory.
Foggles. Designed to keep your eyes on the instrument panel only, to simulate flying through a cloud or thick fog, when the windshield becomes merely a shield for wind. Ben has me put them on at climbout, about 500 feet AGL, and they didn't come off for about 2 hours. Instrument panel, meet Ryan. Ryan... instrument panel.Ben calls out headings and I use my heading indicator to aim for them. I maintain altitude (well, kinda... it's rough 102-degree air) and airspeed... not much to it, really. I just have to trust Ben to keep scanning for traffic. He also gives me a long lesson on using the onboard GPS and VOR radials to track to a particular location, in this case the Glen Rose VOR itself, which we lap around.
(Note to my San Diego kin... ever wonder why that big bowling pin is sticking out of the middle of Mission Bay? That's our VOR station.)
There's an extremely hazardous condition common to pilots known as spatial disorientation, which has killed many pilots... most notably JFK, Jr. With so many sensations going on during a flight, it's not difficult in IFR conditions to have the feeling that you're flying straight-and-level, when in fact you could be in a steep dive. Sometimes it's hard for your body to recognize the difference. The unusual attitudes exercise develops trust in one's flight instruments, which is paramount to combating spatial disorientation.
Ben has fun with this exercise, which starts with him taking the controls and telling me to close my eyes and put my head down. The plane starts weaving, dipping, climbing, banking... I was able to keep track of our position for a few seconds, but by by the time I hear "look up", I have no idea what to expect. I open my eyes and look at my gauges. Airspeed increasing rapidly... attitude is nose down and banked. Throttle out, ailerons neutral, recover from dive.
Another one, and upon looking up I see my airspeed slowing down about the same way. I cheated a bit here... I could easily tell that the sun was in my face so I knew I had to recover from this extreme climb before we stalled, and I did.
Another one, and this time the airspeed and attitude indicator were fine, which worried me for a split second until I realized that Ben had tried to pull a fast one. After all the dipping and diving, he had brought us to straight-and-level flight before telling me to open my eyes.
I kept the foggles on the whole way back, using the GPS to get back to Arlington. Ben handled the radio and gave me subtle instruction (5 degrees left, 2 degrees right, etc.), and by the time I got the order to remove the foggles, I was on right downwind for runway 16. Bounced the landing, but hell... I had been blind for the past two hours and I was a little discombobulated. Ben says it happens on all foggle flights.
Good flight, good day. Hoping the solo cross-country comes tomorrow.
7/28/08
Monday, July 28th (1st solo!)
"Wheels up in 30 minutes, Tobin."
This was Matt's 'good morning' to me as I walked in at 0800. There was a stir around the classroom as I arrived and it took me a second, but I realized that it's solo time. Ben had advised the brass of my good flight on Sunday, and they were anxious to rip me away from my proverbial teat. A few wide eyes and thumbs-ups from my mates and I suddenly wished I had ordered a decaf instead.
I called WX Brief for an area forecast and grabbed my flight bag. Matt walked me out to the ramp (another first) and tells me to treat it like any other flight, to relax and just show the man what I've learned. I preflight 441CA, my lucky steed from yesterday.
Javier, the assistant chief pilot, meets me a few minutes later and we chat planeside. He tells me about the same thing Matt told me... to relax and have fun with the flight. I am now Pilot In Command and he was my passenger, and I'm just taking him for a nice ride. I'm still a little tense at this point, but feeling confident until after starting the engine I accidentally cut it by pushing the throttle forward instead of the mixture, something I hadn't done before. I wince and look up to see Matt ahead of me, arms folded, tsk-tsking me from across the ramp. Yikes. Javier tells me one more time to relax, and it worked. I'm now convinced that I've completed my glitch for this mission and I'm suddenly feeling great. Engine restarted, checklists complete, taxi clearance received. Onward.
Smooth air all the way out to the south practice area. Javier is chatty and full of really good advice. It's quickly evident that he knows what he's talking about. I demonstrate steep turns, slow flight, a power-off stall, and an emergency landing simulation over a freshly threshed field. He also takes some extra time to teach me how to do a forward slip, a very fun maneuver designed to hemorrhage altitude while retaining airspeed without flaps.
On to Mid-Way. I get the approach calls in and enter the pattern. Three nice landings later, Javier tells me to go full-stop and taxi to the ramp. He hops out, asks for my logbook and medical certificate, endorses them, then again tells me to relax and take her up for three or four touch-and-goes. He also reminds me that the plane will be a lot lighter without him in it, so be ready.
"Good luck." The door closes. I am all alone.
Longest taxi of my life. Grinning, trying to stay focused, thinking about emergency procedures, correct radio calls, checklists, and that the seat next to me is empty. Hooboy.
I position to the threshold and push full throttle. It's just like any other takeoff, except that it lifts up like an elevator because that seat next to me is empty. By 500 feet AGL I'm laughing aloud hysterically, but I collect myself in time to hit my crosswind position call on the radio. Landing #1 goes great, just like the others. Landing #2, not so much. A crosswind gust rattled me and I bounced it. Landing #3 goes like #1. I call out for full stop and Javier radios me to go around one more time. Landing #4, more of the same. I taxi back to the ramp where Javier flags me into a slot and hops back in. Being the experienced pilot I now am, I try to anticipate the first thing out of his mouth.
"#2?"
"#2. You know what you did?"
"Yep."
"Great. Let's head home. Nice job."
Nailed my approach procedures back to Arlington (except for calling the tower "Mid-Way Traffic" out of habit, which I corrected immediately). Another good landing and we're home. Another logbook signature and I'm officially cleared for solo flight.
Rumor has it that I'm getting thrown to the fast-track wolves starting tomorrow. First solo cross-country (50nm to Corsicana) awaits!
-Alone in Arlington
This was Matt's 'good morning' to me as I walked in at 0800. There was a stir around the classroom as I arrived and it took me a second, but I realized that it's solo time. Ben had advised the brass of my good flight on Sunday, and they were anxious to rip me away from my proverbial teat. A few wide eyes and thumbs-ups from my mates and I suddenly wished I had ordered a decaf instead.
I called WX Brief for an area forecast and grabbed my flight bag. Matt walked me out to the ramp (another first) and tells me to treat it like any other flight, to relax and just show the man what I've learned. I preflight 441CA, my lucky steed from yesterday.
Javier, the assistant chief pilot, meets me a few minutes later and we chat planeside. He tells me about the same thing Matt told me... to relax and have fun with the flight. I am now Pilot In Command and he was my passenger, and I'm just taking him for a nice ride. I'm still a little tense at this point, but feeling confident until after starting the engine I accidentally cut it by pushing the throttle forward instead of the mixture, something I hadn't done before. I wince and look up to see Matt ahead of me, arms folded, tsk-tsking me from across the ramp. Yikes. Javier tells me one more time to relax, and it worked. I'm now convinced that I've completed my glitch for this mission and I'm suddenly feeling great. Engine restarted, checklists complete, taxi clearance received. Onward.
Smooth air all the way out to the south practice area. Javier is chatty and full of really good advice. It's quickly evident that he knows what he's talking about. I demonstrate steep turns, slow flight, a power-off stall, and an emergency landing simulation over a freshly threshed field. He also takes some extra time to teach me how to do a forward slip, a very fun maneuver designed to hemorrhage altitude while retaining airspeed without flaps.
On to Mid-Way. I get the approach calls in and enter the pattern. Three nice landings later, Javier tells me to go full-stop and taxi to the ramp. He hops out, asks for my logbook and medical certificate, endorses them, then again tells me to relax and take her up for three or four touch-and-goes. He also reminds me that the plane will be a lot lighter without him in it, so be ready.
"Good luck." The door closes. I am all alone.
Longest taxi of my life. Grinning, trying to stay focused, thinking about emergency procedures, correct radio calls, checklists, and that the seat next to me is empty. Hooboy.
I position to the threshold and push full throttle. It's just like any other takeoff, except that it lifts up like an elevator because that seat next to me is empty. By 500 feet AGL I'm laughing aloud hysterically, but I collect myself in time to hit my crosswind position call on the radio. Landing #1 goes great, just like the others. Landing #2, not so much. A crosswind gust rattled me and I bounced it. Landing #3 goes like #1. I call out for full stop and Javier radios me to go around one more time. Landing #4, more of the same. I taxi back to the ramp where Javier flags me into a slot and hops back in. Being the experienced pilot I now am, I try to anticipate the first thing out of his mouth.
"#2?"
"#2. You know what you did?"
"Yep."
"Great. Let's head home. Nice job."
Nailed my approach procedures back to Arlington (except for calling the tower "Mid-Way Traffic" out of habit, which I corrected immediately). Another good landing and we're home. Another logbook signature and I'm officially cleared for solo flight.
Rumor has it that I'm getting thrown to the fast-track wolves starting tomorrow. First solo cross-country (50nm to Corsicana) awaits!
-Alone in Arlington
Sunday, July 27th
Over 20 years of being close friends with musicians, I have occasionally tried to pick up a guitar and strum a few basic chords. No matter how much time passes or how long I practice, I would always give up after not being able to transition from a D to a G. Something just wouldn't click.
Today, something clicked. 114 landings after I started almost three weeks ago, I nailed 6 out of 7 of them over at Mid-Way. I quite suddenly got the feel for how the airplane is supposed to react to ground effect and my flaring inputs. I'm not sure who was smiling bigger... me or instructor Ben.
"I knew you had it in you. We'll make a pilot out of you yet."
It's 105 degrees here, so afternoon flights are suddenly very unpopular. We got excused a little early for the first time ever so I went over to Dave and Brittany's for dinner. Man, Dave can cook!
Today, something clicked. 114 landings after I started almost three weeks ago, I nailed 6 out of 7 of them over at Mid-Way. I quite suddenly got the feel for how the airplane is supposed to react to ground effect and my flaring inputs. I'm not sure who was smiling bigger... me or instructor Ben.
"I knew you had it in you. We'll make a pilot out of you yet."
It's 105 degrees here, so afternoon flights are suddenly very unpopular. We got excused a little early for the first time ever so I went over to Dave and Brittany's for dinner. Man, Dave can cook!
7/26/08
Saturday, July 26th
"That bitch cut us off!"
So began my first exposure to "air rage". Remarkably similar to road rage, but about 100 miles an hour and 2,000 feet in the air certainly adds a quirky element.
Friday was my first flight with lead instructor Matt (of "donut grease" fame) went well. He's a cantankerous Irishman from Kansas with a foul mouth and a cruel streak... two qualities I happen to admire. He's also a hell of a pilot. After demonstrating maneuvers over Lake Bardwell, we flew over to Mid-Way Airport for some touch-and goes, since it's well known by now that soft landings have been my Achilles heel.
There have been two fatal accidents in two days in this immediate area, so everyone's on edge, watching carefully... or so we thought.
After the first landing, which was I was happy with, especially considering the crosswind, I climb out to re-enter the pattern. Just after calling out my position (turning left crosswind for runway 1-8) to the area and preparing to turn left downwind, another Skyhawk (something something Romeo Juliet) appeared ahead and just above us, entering the downwind leg straight on, which is a big no-no.
"Traffic, high!", I barked, and I cut the throttle in half while Matt yanked the yoke to the right to avoid it. It passed across our nose just about 200 feet off. Just then, a female voice crackled over the radio.
"Midway Traffic, Cessna Something Something Romeo Juliet entering left downwind for 1-8, full stop". No shit.
"That bitch cut us off!" Matt was instantly beet red. "My controls!" He pushes full throttle, steers us to pattern altitude behind her and clicks the mic.
"Ahem... Midway traffic, Cessna 9379 Foxtrot is also on left downwind for 1-8, and thanks for the radio call," Matt chirped.
"Ahem yourself... this is Class Echo airspace, sir... it's for everybody."
Matt's face twists into a knot. "I know her! We're going full stop, too. I gotta pee anyway."
We land (another nice one, thankyouverymuch), and taxi to the main hangar. Matt opens the door an bolts the second we stop. While I secure the plane, I scan the area but can't find him anywhere. A full 15 minutes goes by before he returns, grumbling.
"Bitch ducked me and locked the door. Let's go home." I chose to let a seething man seethe.
Today I did my 150nm "cross-country" flight, from Arlington to Corsicana to Cleburne to Mid-Way to home, with more pilotage and landing successes. Gotta refine more items such as falling behind on checklists, but feeling pretty good overall. No word on solos yet, but I know the instructors are looking for more from all of us before that happens. More to come.
So began my first exposure to "air rage". Remarkably similar to road rage, but about 100 miles an hour and 2,000 feet in the air certainly adds a quirky element.
Friday was my first flight with lead instructor Matt (of "donut grease" fame) went well. He's a cantankerous Irishman from Kansas with a foul mouth and a cruel streak... two qualities I happen to admire. He's also a hell of a pilot. After demonstrating maneuvers over Lake Bardwell, we flew over to Mid-Way Airport for some touch-and goes, since it's well known by now that soft landings have been my Achilles heel.
There have been two fatal accidents in two days in this immediate area, so everyone's on edge, watching carefully... or so we thought.
After the first landing, which was I was happy with, especially considering the crosswind, I climb out to re-enter the pattern. Just after calling out my position (turning left crosswind for runway 1-8) to the area and preparing to turn left downwind, another Skyhawk (something something Romeo Juliet) appeared ahead and just above us, entering the downwind leg straight on, which is a big no-no.
"Traffic, high!", I barked, and I cut the throttle in half while Matt yanked the yoke to the right to avoid it. It passed across our nose just about 200 feet off. Just then, a female voice crackled over the radio.
"Midway Traffic, Cessna Something Something Romeo Juliet entering left downwind for 1-8, full stop". No shit.
"That bitch cut us off!" Matt was instantly beet red. "My controls!" He pushes full throttle, steers us to pattern altitude behind her and clicks the mic.
"Ahem... Midway traffic, Cessna 9379 Foxtrot is also on left downwind for 1-8, and thanks for the radio call," Matt chirped.
"Ahem yourself... this is Class Echo airspace, sir... it's for everybody."
Matt's face twists into a knot. "I know her! We're going full stop, too. I gotta pee anyway."
We land (another nice one, thankyouverymuch), and taxi to the main hangar. Matt opens the door an bolts the second we stop. While I secure the plane, I scan the area but can't find him anywhere. A full 15 minutes goes by before he returns, grumbling.
"Bitch ducked me and locked the door. Let's go home." I chose to let a seething man seethe.
Today I did my 150nm "cross-country" flight, from Arlington to Corsicana to Cleburne to Mid-Way to home, with more pilotage and landing successes. Gotta refine more items such as falling behind on checklists, but feeling pretty good overall. No word on solos yet, but I know the instructors are looking for more from all of us before that happens. More to come.
7/24/08
Thursday, July 24th
Discouraged and exhausted, but still hopeful.
Yesterday the ATP brass selected two of us to solo, and I wasn't one. I'm stuck on those damn landings and they want to see improvement before I take one of their planes out all by my lonesome. Understandable, but still...
Of the two that soloed, only Daniel made it a successful run. Mike came back deflated... his nerves got the better of him midflight and he'll have to regroup and try again soon. Big congrats to Daniel, though. One down, five of us to go.
I did, however, complete my first cross-country flight yesterday. Well, since this is merely the first of several requirements to demonstrate proficiency of pilotage and dead-reckoning, this was more of a cross-county... 53nm southeast to Corsicana, proud former home of Wolf Brand Chili. Lots of fun. Got to really plan out a trip and use map landmarks to spot my position out the window from 3,500 feet up. Joe Pool Lake... town of Midlothian... Lake Waxahachie... railroad... town of Bardwell... bridge... town of Emhouse... Corsicana! Did some maneuvers on the way back and felt great about them all for the first time.
No flight today, but should be heading up tomorrow morning with lead instructor Matt, who I've been anxious to fly with. I think a new instructor's input might help me get past the landing bugaboo that's been plaguing my progress.
Lots of support around here. All three of my roommates have been through this rigmarole, and sharing experiences with other pilots around ATP about has been really encouraging.
More soon!
Yesterday the ATP brass selected two of us to solo, and I wasn't one. I'm stuck on those damn landings and they want to see improvement before I take one of their planes out all by my lonesome. Understandable, but still...
Of the two that soloed, only Daniel made it a successful run. Mike came back deflated... his nerves got the better of him midflight and he'll have to regroup and try again soon. Big congrats to Daniel, though. One down, five of us to go.
I did, however, complete my first cross-country flight yesterday. Well, since this is merely the first of several requirements to demonstrate proficiency of pilotage and dead-reckoning, this was more of a cross-county... 53nm southeast to Corsicana, proud former home of Wolf Brand Chili. Lots of fun. Got to really plan out a trip and use map landmarks to spot my position out the window from 3,500 feet up. Joe Pool Lake... town of Midlothian... Lake Waxahachie... railroad... town of Bardwell... bridge... town of Emhouse... Corsicana! Did some maneuvers on the way back and felt great about them all for the first time.
No flight today, but should be heading up tomorrow morning with lead instructor Matt, who I've been anxious to fly with. I think a new instructor's input might help me get past the landing bugaboo that's been plaguing my progress.
Lots of support around here. All three of my roommates have been through this rigmarole, and sharing experiences with other pilots around ATP about has been really encouraging.
More soon!
7/22/08
Monday, July 21st
I'm sorry again for being so behind in the updates. This experience really is becoming the grind that I was warned it would be, and my window between tarmac time and bedtime seems to get narrower each day.
Now two weeks without a break but going strong. Each day presents a new challenge, mostly in refining my technique. Still working on the pre-solo maneuvers, including stalls (now with coordinated 20-degree bank!), steep turns, slow flight, and ground reference maneuvers. Takeoffs are good, radio work is solid, and landings still need work... more on that in a minute.
We'll be soloing any day now. Was expected to go as early as today, but scheduling snafus prevented it. I also think that most of the instructors want to see better technique before letting us go, and we're all (5 of us) very nearly there. We're also quite tense about it... just want it happen soon and go well, since it's a huge bolus of confidence to digest if all goes to plan. Most of our day is spent in the classroom, waiting to get tossed a key by the chief pilot instead of one of our instructors. Each time the door opens, five sets of adrenal glands constrict.
Too many single events to catch up on, but one major highlight was my first night flight on Saturday. Ben (an instructor I've been flying with a lot lately, and a bona fide 'plane nut') surprises me by telling me to preflight 2656G at sunset, to the envious groans of my peer group. Preflight now involved some serious planning from the sectional chart. Instead of flying day VFR (visual flight rules) over barely inhabited areas to the south, we're heading north, right through super-busy Class B Dallas/Ft. Worth Airport airspace, under night VFR. It took all of my self-control to keep from bouncing in my seat as we plotted the course.
Take-off was perfect, the night was clear, the air smooth as glass. After ten straight days of flying in some of the roughest air outside of a typhoon, this was paradise. I barely had to touch the controls to keep us straight-and-level the whole way. Ben manned the radio calls and GPS settings through DFW airspace, which we hit just a few minutes after my turn to the north out of Arlington. DFW turns out to be a bit of a letdown, since there's really not much air traffic going on at 2100 on a Saturday night. The Fort Worth Approach controller seemed glad to talk to us. The view was incredible though, as we flew due north just to the west of that immense airport at 3,500 feet.
Destination #1: Gainesville. We had to go this far up to meet night-flying distance criteria for my private pilot's certificate. Past Denton, the ground landmarks become, well, dark, so Interstate 35 led us all the way there. Gainesville Airport turned out to be a difficult one to spot, even when lit. I think it was partly my eyes adjusting to the new experience of nighttime pilotage, but it really was not very well-lit. Nonetheless, I brought her down for a single touch-and-go. We even shared the pattern with another Cessna, which is more than I can say for...
Destination #2: Alliance Airport. This is really what I had been so eagerly waiting for. My buddy Dave lives right next to Alliance, and I had been staring at that airport every time I came out to visit him the past few years. It's an huge industrial airport, reserved mainly for nearly all FedEx ops in the DFW area, lots of other cargo and irregular traffic, and American Airlines has a huge maintenance hangar there for some of their bigger birds. They've got two parallel runways, each one about twice as long as Arlington's runway and as we found out, very friendly to general aviation like us. Radioing approach, we were greeted by a man who might very well have been Andy Griffith.
"Alliance Tower, Cessna 2656 Golf reporting 15 miles north, inbound for touch and goes."
"Well, howdy, 56 Golf! Boy, we just had another Cessna leave here and I thought I was gonna be all lonesome the rest of the night. You're cleared to land on... which do you want, one-six left or one-six right?"
"We'll take 16 left on a left pattern, if that's okay."
"Fine! See you here."
"No jets tonight?"
"Nope, they only bug me 4 nights a week, and this ain't one of 'em. You got the whole place to yourself."
Our very own airport! Half-disappointed that we wouldn't be weaving amongst the DC-10's, but mostly giddy to be lined up for a landing on a two-mile long runway that's lit like the Vegas Strip. About ten touch-and-goes later, Ben asks, "how many is that"? Before I can start to tally, our controller chimes in instead.
"I'm counting that one as number 11." Ben had had his finger on the mic switch.
"That'll do. 56 Golf departing to the south. Thanks for your help!"
"Y'all come back and see us!"
Back to 3,500 feet. Still enjoying the view and the smooth air, but I was getting a little worried that I wouldn't be able to find my way back, being less-than-familiar with this area, and with a jillion airports of all different sizes around us. Ben knew the way, but I really wanted to do it myself. Fort Worth Approach took care of that.
"56 Golf, traffic, 3 miles at nine-o-clock, 3,500 feet, Skyhawk also inbound to Arlington."
I look to my left and spot him immediately. Just found my way home. I pointed my nose toward him and tailed him all the way back. Won't be this easy every time, but sometimes dumbass luck has to intervene, right?
Another 10 touch-and-goes at Arlington (sharing the pattern with my lead instructor, flying a Seminole after midnight) and we're ready to call it a night.
Oh... landings. All these touch-and-goes are adding up. I'm now sitting on 95 total landings over two weeks, and today was the day I finally got one I was happy with. Good approach angle, near centerline (using some sideslip), floating down the runway, holding off, flaring for a nice soft two-wheel touchdown. Up to today I could get it on the ground, but either too hard, ballooning up instead of flaring, off centerline, or any/all of the above. An inordinate amount of finesse needs to develop in order to really get the feel for it. Everyone keeps telling that this is normal and to just keep at it, that it takes lots of muscle memory and a taught sense of timing, but I was really getting frustrated. Mucho better now, thankyouverymuch.
No pictures yet, I'm afraid. I just can't quite seem to bring myself to start snapping photos while in the air under the watchful eye of my instructor. Post-solo will change that.
My... look at the time. Gotta sign off.
Big thanks to all of you for your support, encouragement, and juju waves.
-Ace
Now two weeks without a break but going strong. Each day presents a new challenge, mostly in refining my technique. Still working on the pre-solo maneuvers, including stalls (now with coordinated 20-degree bank!), steep turns, slow flight, and ground reference maneuvers. Takeoffs are good, radio work is solid, and landings still need work... more on that in a minute.
We'll be soloing any day now. Was expected to go as early as today, but scheduling snafus prevented it. I also think that most of the instructors want to see better technique before letting us go, and we're all (5 of us) very nearly there. We're also quite tense about it... just want it happen soon and go well, since it's a huge bolus of confidence to digest if all goes to plan. Most of our day is spent in the classroom, waiting to get tossed a key by the chief pilot instead of one of our instructors. Each time the door opens, five sets of adrenal glands constrict.
Too many single events to catch up on, but one major highlight was my first night flight on Saturday. Ben (an instructor I've been flying with a lot lately, and a bona fide 'plane nut') surprises me by telling me to preflight 2656G at sunset, to the envious groans of my peer group. Preflight now involved some serious planning from the sectional chart. Instead of flying day VFR (visual flight rules) over barely inhabited areas to the south, we're heading north, right through super-busy Class B Dallas/Ft. Worth Airport airspace, under night VFR. It took all of my self-control to keep from bouncing in my seat as we plotted the course.
Take-off was perfect, the night was clear, the air smooth as glass. After ten straight days of flying in some of the roughest air outside of a typhoon, this was paradise. I barely had to touch the controls to keep us straight-and-level the whole way. Ben manned the radio calls and GPS settings through DFW airspace, which we hit just a few minutes after my turn to the north out of Arlington. DFW turns out to be a bit of a letdown, since there's really not much air traffic going on at 2100 on a Saturday night. The Fort Worth Approach controller seemed glad to talk to us. The view was incredible though, as we flew due north just to the west of that immense airport at 3,500 feet.
Destination #1: Gainesville. We had to go this far up to meet night-flying distance criteria for my private pilot's certificate. Past Denton, the ground landmarks become, well, dark, so Interstate 35 led us all the way there. Gainesville Airport turned out to be a difficult one to spot, even when lit. I think it was partly my eyes adjusting to the new experience of nighttime pilotage, but it really was not very well-lit. Nonetheless, I brought her down for a single touch-and-go. We even shared the pattern with another Cessna, which is more than I can say for...
Destination #2: Alliance Airport. This is really what I had been so eagerly waiting for. My buddy Dave lives right next to Alliance, and I had been staring at that airport every time I came out to visit him the past few years. It's an huge industrial airport, reserved mainly for nearly all FedEx ops in the DFW area, lots of other cargo and irregular traffic, and American Airlines has a huge maintenance hangar there for some of their bigger birds. They've got two parallel runways, each one about twice as long as Arlington's runway and as we found out, very friendly to general aviation like us. Radioing approach, we were greeted by a man who might very well have been Andy Griffith.
"Alliance Tower, Cessna 2656 Golf reporting 15 miles north, inbound for touch and goes."
"Well, howdy, 56 Golf! Boy, we just had another Cessna leave here and I thought I was gonna be all lonesome the rest of the night. You're cleared to land on... which do you want, one-six left or one-six right?"
"We'll take 16 left on a left pattern, if that's okay."
"Fine! See you here."
"No jets tonight?"
"Nope, they only bug me 4 nights a week, and this ain't one of 'em. You got the whole place to yourself."
Our very own airport! Half-disappointed that we wouldn't be weaving amongst the DC-10's, but mostly giddy to be lined up for a landing on a two-mile long runway that's lit like the Vegas Strip. About ten touch-and-goes later, Ben asks, "how many is that"? Before I can start to tally, our controller chimes in instead.
"I'm counting that one as number 11." Ben had had his finger on the mic switch.
"That'll do. 56 Golf departing to the south. Thanks for your help!"
"Y'all come back and see us!"
Back to 3,500 feet. Still enjoying the view and the smooth air, but I was getting a little worried that I wouldn't be able to find my way back, being less-than-familiar with this area, and with a jillion airports of all different sizes around us. Ben knew the way, but I really wanted to do it myself. Fort Worth Approach took care of that.
"56 Golf, traffic, 3 miles at nine-o-clock, 3,500 feet, Skyhawk also inbound to Arlington."
I look to my left and spot him immediately. Just found my way home. I pointed my nose toward him and tailed him all the way back. Won't be this easy every time, but sometimes dumbass luck has to intervene, right?
Another 10 touch-and-goes at Arlington (sharing the pattern with my lead instructor, flying a Seminole after midnight) and we're ready to call it a night.
Oh... landings. All these touch-and-goes are adding up. I'm now sitting on 95 total landings over two weeks, and today was the day I finally got one I was happy with. Good approach angle, near centerline (using some sideslip), floating down the runway, holding off, flaring for a nice soft two-wheel touchdown. Up to today I could get it on the ground, but either too hard, ballooning up instead of flaring, off centerline, or any/all of the above. An inordinate amount of finesse needs to develop in order to really get the feel for it. Everyone keeps telling that this is normal and to just keep at it, that it takes lots of muscle memory and a taught sense of timing, but I was really getting frustrated. Mucho better now, thankyouverymuch.
No pictures yet, I'm afraid. I just can't quite seem to bring myself to start snapping photos while in the air under the watchful eye of my instructor. Post-solo will change that.
My... look at the time. Gotta sign off.
Big thanks to all of you for your support, encouragement, and juju waves.
-Ace
7/16/08
Tuesday, July 15th
Sorry for the absence and for the quick 'n' dirty update, but we're cramming for the written exam on Friday and starting to go over the oral checkride exam, which comes in a few weeks. All this fancy book learnin' seems to be sapping my time and wit, but I'll recharge after this week's test.
Sunday - two flights. Morning had me doing maneuvers in 2746F over Venus, TX. Disappointingly turbulent flight for such a still morning. Most days the bumps add a fun element to learning the craft, but today I'm in the mood for some smooth air... not to be. Slow flight, stalls, ground reference maneuvers. Getting the hang of them and learning the area more and more. Afternoon flight was also quite rough. Touch-and-goes at Mid-Way again. Had one fantastic landing surrounded by about 8 marginal ones. Took a long 5-mile final for landing into Arlington (which we were approved for by Tower), where a wayward Cherokee drifted from his extended downwind leg into our path. Cleared to our right at the same altitude by about 1000 ft. after veering slightly away. Strange sight.
It's my last day with Sean... he's been bumped up to teaching the Seminole for the ACPP (career program) and starting Monday. He's been a terrific instructor and I'll probably have him again when I start that program in September. He weighs about half as much as me, so I'll need him back for weight-and-balance compliance.
Monday - no flight. Thunderstorms rolling in but they sent up some of our guys ahead of them. Since I was about 1.5 hours ahead of everyone I volunteered to be last up, and wound up being odd man out. Now we're all about even. Odd.
Tuesday - one flight. Study time and videos all morning, then an afternoon flight in 2656G. My first flight with Walt, an sickeningly pleasant Texas native and ATP grad. He throws a curveball immediately after going full-throttle on takeoff.
"Engine problem! Pre-rotation, and you have plenty of runway... what do you do?"
THINK. "Cut throttle... full brakes... avoid obstacles... stop the plane." It wasn't quite that smooth, but the result was the same... successfully stopped on the runway. After we leave the ground, that drill becomes much more complicated, but now I'll know to watch for it.
Touch-and-goes at Grand Prairie Airport, a towered airport merely 3 miles away. More rough landings, but Walt's really hammering good technique into my head. On to Dallas Executive Airport (formerly "Redbird"), further east from GP and due south of Love Field. Had the opposite trouble at this airport... my glideslope for landing was high almost every time and I had three go-arounds. One good landing to end the day made me pretty happy, though. Back to Arlington. Walt says I'm right where I need to be at this stage, which kept my spirits up nicely.
13.4 hours logged. Rumor is we'll be soloing sometime next week. I'll be ready. For now... bedtime.
-Zulu Zulu Zulu
Sunday - two flights. Morning had me doing maneuvers in 2746F over Venus, TX. Disappointingly turbulent flight for such a still morning. Most days the bumps add a fun element to learning the craft, but today I'm in the mood for some smooth air... not to be. Slow flight, stalls, ground reference maneuvers. Getting the hang of them and learning the area more and more. Afternoon flight was also quite rough. Touch-and-goes at Mid-Way again. Had one fantastic landing surrounded by about 8 marginal ones. Took a long 5-mile final for landing into Arlington (which we were approved for by Tower), where a wayward Cherokee drifted from his extended downwind leg into our path. Cleared to our right at the same altitude by about 1000 ft. after veering slightly away. Strange sight.
It's my last day with Sean... he's been bumped up to teaching the Seminole for the ACPP (career program) and starting Monday. He's been a terrific instructor and I'll probably have him again when I start that program in September. He weighs about half as much as me, so I'll need him back for weight-and-balance compliance.
Monday - no flight. Thunderstorms rolling in but they sent up some of our guys ahead of them. Since I was about 1.5 hours ahead of everyone I volunteered to be last up, and wound up being odd man out. Now we're all about even. Odd.
Tuesday - one flight. Study time and videos all morning, then an afternoon flight in 2656G. My first flight with Walt, an sickeningly pleasant Texas native and ATP grad. He throws a curveball immediately after going full-throttle on takeoff.
"Engine problem! Pre-rotation, and you have plenty of runway... what do you do?"
THINK. "Cut throttle... full brakes... avoid obstacles... stop the plane." It wasn't quite that smooth, but the result was the same... successfully stopped on the runway. After we leave the ground, that drill becomes much more complicated, but now I'll know to watch for it.
Touch-and-goes at Grand Prairie Airport, a towered airport merely 3 miles away. More rough landings, but Walt's really hammering good technique into my head. On to Dallas Executive Airport (formerly "Redbird"), further east from GP and due south of Love Field. Had the opposite trouble at this airport... my glideslope for landing was high almost every time and I had three go-arounds. One good landing to end the day made me pretty happy, though. Back to Arlington. Walt says I'm right where I need to be at this stage, which kept my spirits up nicely.
13.4 hours logged. Rumor is we'll be soloing sometime next week. I'll be ready. For now... bedtime.
-Zulu Zulu Zulu
7/12/08
Saturday, July 12th
"Hotter'n donut grease," my lead instructor Matt remarks with his native Kansas twang.
It's 102 degrees here in the Dallas area, which means that it's about 122 on the concrete/asphalt surfaces of the airport. There's only one good thing about heat like this... my preflight inspection goes faster and better, because I just can't wait to start that huge fan in front of me.
Lucky for me, my first flight today started at 0800, when the thermometer merely read 90. Did a steep turn maneuver before heading out to Mid-Way Airport again for touch-and-goes. Did 9 of them over 2 hours with a moderate crosswind. After #5 or so I started nailing the landing checklist procedures and a perfect glideslope on final. Working on fighting the urge to float too far down the runway before landing, but I understand landing requires the most finesse of nearly any flight maneuver, so I'm trying not to beat myself up too bad about it. Sean's handling the radio calls during the pattern work (uncontrolled airport, so we gotta call out our position all the time), but I'm gonna try to take that over tomorrow.
Afternoon flight was interesting. Sean and I headed southwest to do more maneuvers. Slow flight, stalls, more steep turns, and some new ground maneuvers... precision steep turns around a fixed point on the ground, S-turns along a road, and rectangle patterns... all while maintaining altitude. Sean took the next one. Emergency landing was next, which involved cutting the power and spiraling slowly down to find a good landing area. Found a freshly-mowed obstacle-free hayfield below us and got down low enough to where I really thought we might actually land. Exercise over... full power, flaps up, climb out. Yeehaw.
During that slow spiral down, I looked down from about 1000ft and spotted our plane's shadow on the ground, then a similar plane's shadow right next to it. Wait... either we've developed another sun, OR...
It was Matt and classmate Mike... about 1000 feet above us, doing similar maneuvers. We were calling out our position to the area and got calls from other aircraft, but got no answer from them. Later they told us that they made several attempts to call us, so we were deaf to each other for some reason. Nobody's pointing fingers... and they were watching us the whole time.
A note about yesterday... instructor Mikey says that the incipient spin wasn't caused by wind, but by a rudder overcorrection on his part. Another note... I botched that flight's radio call for taxi request... "Arlington Ground, Cessna 7265 Zulu at the main ramp, request taxi to the main ramp with weather". WINCE. GROAN. Request taxi to the runway, rookie. The nice encouraging men in the tower that I met the other day are now laughing their asses off at me but spared me the shame of broadcasting it. I didn't make that mistake today and probably won't again for a while.
Cold front coming in tomorrow, which is expected to drop the temp about 10-12 degrees and shift the winds enough to reverse the pattern at the airport, meaning we'll be taking off to the north on runway 34 instead of to the south on the usual 16, if thunderstorms don't ground us completely. Stay tuned!
Weekends? What weekends?
It's 102 degrees here in the Dallas area, which means that it's about 122 on the concrete/asphalt surfaces of the airport. There's only one good thing about heat like this... my preflight inspection goes faster and better, because I just can't wait to start that huge fan in front of me.
Lucky for me, my first flight today started at 0800, when the thermometer merely read 90. Did a steep turn maneuver before heading out to Mid-Way Airport again for touch-and-goes. Did 9 of them over 2 hours with a moderate crosswind. After #5 or so I started nailing the landing checklist procedures and a perfect glideslope on final. Working on fighting the urge to float too far down the runway before landing, but I understand landing requires the most finesse of nearly any flight maneuver, so I'm trying not to beat myself up too bad about it. Sean's handling the radio calls during the pattern work (uncontrolled airport, so we gotta call out our position all the time), but I'm gonna try to take that over tomorrow.
Afternoon flight was interesting. Sean and I headed southwest to do more maneuvers. Slow flight, stalls, more steep turns, and some new ground maneuvers... precision steep turns around a fixed point on the ground, S-turns along a road, and rectangle patterns... all while maintaining altitude. Sean took the next one. Emergency landing was next, which involved cutting the power and spiraling slowly down to find a good landing area. Found a freshly-mowed obstacle-free hayfield below us and got down low enough to where I really thought we might actually land. Exercise over... full power, flaps up, climb out. Yeehaw.
During that slow spiral down, I looked down from about 1000ft and spotted our plane's shadow on the ground, then a similar plane's shadow right next to it. Wait... either we've developed another sun, OR...
It was Matt and classmate Mike... about 1000 feet above us, doing similar maneuvers. We were calling out our position to the area and got calls from other aircraft, but got no answer from them. Later they told us that they made several attempts to call us, so we were deaf to each other for some reason. Nobody's pointing fingers... and they were watching us the whole time.
A note about yesterday... instructor Mikey says that the incipient spin wasn't caused by wind, but by a rudder overcorrection on his part. Another note... I botched that flight's radio call for taxi request... "Arlington Ground, Cessna 7265 Zulu at the main ramp, request taxi to the main ramp with weather". WINCE. GROAN. Request taxi to the runway, rookie. The nice encouraging men in the tower that I met the other day are now laughing their asses off at me but spared me the shame of broadcasting it. I didn't make that mistake today and probably won't again for a while.
Cold front coming in tomorrow, which is expected to drop the temp about 10-12 degrees and shift the winds enough to reverse the pattern at the airport, meaning we'll be taking off to the north on runway 34 instead of to the south on the usual 16, if thunderstorms don't ground us completely. Stay tuned!
Weekends? What weekends?
7/11/08
Friday, July 11th
Tonight's episode... "Ryan and the Incipient Spin" (or "Are My Affairs In Order?")
0800 report time, but this wound up being a study day... nose in the book and watching videos until about 1600, when instructor Mikey (first time flying with this 6'9" dude from Huntington Beach) handed me the key to 7265Z and told to preflight. Ran out to the main ramp and knew it would be an interesting one when I noticed the windsock flapping about wildly. Variable winds gusting to 20 knots with typical July afternoon thermals.
Good taxi and takeoff, but Mikey busts me for not applying elevator trim, which I'll need to get the hang of. Headed southwest toward Fort Worth Spinks Airport , which we crossed on our way to today's practice area at 4500ft. Steep turns go well... 360-degree turn at a 45-degree bank while maintaining altitude. Nailed it. Now for slow flight maneuvers, which simulates a landing configuration. Slow to about 40 knots (which ain't much!) with full flaps and kept her straight and level. Now time to stall her by raising the nose, which she does and recovery goes fine. Now for power-on stalls, which simulates stalling the aircraft at takeoff due to a too-steep climb (critical angle-of-attack). Start at 60 knots and level flight, then full power and yank the yoke back to where we're nose-to-the-sun. The stall horn sounds, the wings tremble (buffet), and we stall. Recovery is pretty easy... not much altitude lost.
On 2nd power-on stall attempt a wind gust struck us just at the point of stall, yawing us just enough to the left, and we entered an incipient spin. I had read all about these, and was aware of the possibility during stall exercises, but you just don't grasp it until you try it. Mine was pretty much identical to this...
More exhilarating than scary, and really not much danger, since we were really high up and Mikey knows his stuff. He recovered before it developed into a full spin, which he can also recover from. Glad I experienced it. Was rather strange to see a golf course through my windshield, though.
Rough ride back to Arlington, with lots of traffic. Had to turn out of the pattern again for spacing, and entered base leg at stall speed to allow even more space for a Cherokee in front of us. Landed her hard, but without visible structural damage. Morning and afternoon flights tomorrow... mostly touch-and-goes, I hear. Need the practice, especially on landings.
More studying, then home and bed. It's Friday, but I get no weekends for a while so I need to grab some Z's whenever I can. Big thanks for the birthday wishes (and warbling... you know who you are) from all of you.
Romeo Papa Tango, out.
0800 report time, but this wound up being a study day... nose in the book and watching videos until about 1600, when instructor Mikey (first time flying with this 6'9" dude from Huntington Beach) handed me the key to 7265Z and told to preflight. Ran out to the main ramp and knew it would be an interesting one when I noticed the windsock flapping about wildly. Variable winds gusting to 20 knots with typical July afternoon thermals.
Good taxi and takeoff, but Mikey busts me for not applying elevator trim, which I'll need to get the hang of. Headed southwest toward Fort Worth Spinks Airport , which we crossed on our way to today's practice area at 4500ft. Steep turns go well... 360-degree turn at a 45-degree bank while maintaining altitude. Nailed it. Now for slow flight maneuvers, which simulates a landing configuration. Slow to about 40 knots (which ain't much!) with full flaps and kept her straight and level. Now time to stall her by raising the nose, which she does and recovery goes fine. Now for power-on stalls, which simulates stalling the aircraft at takeoff due to a too-steep climb (critical angle-of-attack). Start at 60 knots and level flight, then full power and yank the yoke back to where we're nose-to-the-sun. The stall horn sounds, the wings tremble (buffet), and we stall. Recovery is pretty easy... not much altitude lost.
On 2nd power-on stall attempt a wind gust struck us just at the point of stall, yawing us just enough to the left, and we entered an incipient spin. I had read all about these, and was aware of the possibility during stall exercises, but you just don't grasp it until you try it. Mine was pretty much identical to this...
More exhilarating than scary, and really not much danger, since we were really high up and Mikey knows his stuff. He recovered before it developed into a full spin, which he can also recover from. Glad I experienced it. Was rather strange to see a golf course through my windshield, though.
Rough ride back to Arlington, with lots of traffic. Had to turn out of the pattern again for spacing, and entered base leg at stall speed to allow even more space for a Cherokee in front of us. Landed her hard, but without visible structural damage. Morning and afternoon flights tomorrow... mostly touch-and-goes, I hear. Need the practice, especially on landings.
More studying, then home and bed. It's Friday, but I get no weekends for a while so I need to grab some Z's whenever I can. Big thanks for the birthday wishes (and warbling... you know who you are) from all of you.
Romeo Papa Tango, out.
Thursday, July 10th
The productive days just keep on comin'.
Arrived at the airport at 7:45am and was handed the key to 997RA before I could sit
down. Went up immediately with Sean for my first a.m. flight. No preflight drama this time. First unassisted takeoff. Smooth air and cool breezes all the way to Mid-Way Airport for touch-and-goes. I requested that we do some taxi-and-goes instead, since my nosewheel control during taxi needs some finesse. On the ground the plane is steered with foot pedals (top half is brake, lower half is rudder), and I'm controlling the ground turns with too much brake and not enough pedals. So I landed at Mid-Way, taxied back to the threshold, then took off again... three times. Feeling much better about taxiing, and takeoffs are now an absolute cinch, but landings are still shaky (bounced one of them), but I'm doing them with minimal assistance from the boss. Heavy traffic at the Arlington pattern on the way in, so we had to peel off to do a 360-degree turn right before turning base (2nd-to-last turn before landing) to get some space between us and the Piper in front of us. Fun morning, and 1.6 hours in the book... 3.6 total.
At about 1pm the classmates and I took a field trip to the Arlington control tower. Went up an 8-story elevator, then up 2 more flights of stairs to get to the top, where we were greeted by Ground Control George and Tower Control Tom, both of which I had spoken to on my first two flights. Nice guys, and very accommodating to wide-eyed curious student pilots. Spent a good hour watching the pattern and getting our questions answered in air-conditioned comfort and with one hell of a view. Learned that Arlington is the second-largest general aviation airport in Texas (which is saying something).
It gets better. Returned to my desk to find a birthday card from the folks (thanks, folks!) and a box from Mark which contained a bacon-scented car air freshener,
bacon-flavored toothpicks, and bacon-flavored breath mints (thanks, buddy!). My attempt to tie the freshener to the A/C vent was met with considerable hostility. Some people just can't recognize a favor when they're given one, I guess.
Finished the day watching videos and going over the sectional chart. Studied alone at the airport until 9pm. Mundane end to an otherwise fascinating day.
Steep turns and stalls next. Maybe tomorrow, but more likely Saturday.
Pitching for speed, powering for altitude.
Arrived at the airport at 7:45am and was handed the key to 997RA before I could sit
down. Went up immediately with Sean for my first a.m. flight. No preflight drama this time. First unassisted takeoff. Smooth air and cool breezes all the way to Mid-Way Airport for touch-and-goes. I requested that we do some taxi-and-goes instead, since my nosewheel control during taxi needs some finesse. On the ground the plane is steered with foot pedals (top half is brake, lower half is rudder), and I'm controlling the ground turns with too much brake and not enough pedals. So I landed at Mid-Way, taxied back to the threshold, then took off again... three times. Feeling much better about taxiing, and takeoffs are now an absolute cinch, but landings are still shaky (bounced one of them), but I'm doing them with minimal assistance from the boss. Heavy traffic at the Arlington pattern on the way in, so we had to peel off to do a 360-degree turn right before turning base (2nd-to-last turn before landing) to get some space between us and the Piper in front of us. Fun morning, and 1.6 hours in the book... 3.6 total.At about 1pm the classmates and I took a field trip to the Arlington control tower. Went up an 8-story elevator, then up 2 more flights of stairs to get to the top, where we were greeted by Ground Control George and Tower Control Tom, both of which I had spoken to on my first two flights. Nice guys, and very accommodating to wide-eyed curious student pilots. Spent a good hour watching the pattern and getting our questions answered in air-conditioned comfort and with one hell of a view. Learned that Arlington is the second-largest general aviation airport in Texas (which is saying something).
It gets better. Returned to my desk to find a birthday card from the folks (thanks, folks!) and a box from Mark which contained a bacon-scented car air freshener,
bacon-flavored toothpicks, and bacon-flavored breath mints (thanks, buddy!). My attempt to tie the freshener to the A/C vent was met with considerable hostility. Some people just can't recognize a favor when they're given one, I guess.Finished the day watching videos and going over the sectional chart. Studied alone at the airport until 9pm. Mundane end to an otherwise fascinating day.
Steep turns and stalls next. Maybe tomorrow, but more likely Saturday.
Pitching for speed, powering for altitude.
7/10/08
Wednesday, July 9th
It's late, I'm tired and I have a big morning tomorrow, so I gotta make this one quick & sloppy.
Chapter 3 review (aced) and started chapter 4 (airspace and airport ops). Watched more videos while we waited for planes to become available. After 7497F was returned with puke along the left side (classmate Mike had a hard time on final), the crew cleaned it and I started preflight inspection and waited for the gas truck to come around. Then finished preflight, instructor met me, and we taxied to the run-up area (right before the runway, where we go through final checklist and test the engine's takeoff power without actually moving). Just about to radio the tower for takeoff clearance when I noticed a red VOLTS light blinking on the annunciator panel. I check the ammeter and it showed a little below zero (should be exactly zero). I elbowed Sean and he did some fiddling around with the master switch and circuit breakers but no joy. That's a no-fly situation. Radioed tower for taxi back to the ramp. They ordered us to use the runway to taxi and be quick about it, so Sean took the controls and did a fast taxi (with the nose up... weird!) back home. Still got .5 hours in the logbook, though, since time starts at masterswitch on and ends at masterswitch off. Finished the day doing practice written tests... now averaging about 89%. Should take the exam early next week. Brain hurts.
Bad alternator. Now being repaired and we'll try again tomorrow morning (1st morning flight). Doing approx 8 touch-and-goes at Midway airport (SE of here... not Chicago ) for takeoff/landing/pattern practice. Should be fun.
fyi... rumor is that the solo flight comes at about 22-23 hours on average.
also fyi... holding off on camera work for now, since flying is a very full-time job at the moment. I'll have plenty to take and share soon, though.
Chapter 3 review (aced) and started chapter 4 (airspace and airport ops). Watched more videos while we waited for planes to become available. After 7497F was returned with puke along the left side (classmate Mike had a hard time on final), the crew cleaned it and I started preflight inspection and waited for the gas truck to come around. Then finished preflight, instructor met me, and we taxied to the run-up area (right before the runway, where we go through final checklist and test the engine's takeoff power without actually moving). Just about to radio the tower for takeoff clearance when I noticed a red VOLTS light blinking on the annunciator panel. I check the ammeter and it showed a little below zero (should be exactly zero). I elbowed Sean and he did some fiddling around with the master switch and circuit breakers but no joy. That's a no-fly situation. Radioed tower for taxi back to the ramp. They ordered us to use the runway to taxi and be quick about it, so Sean took the controls and did a fast taxi (with the nose up... weird!) back home. Still got .5 hours in the logbook, though, since time starts at masterswitch on and ends at masterswitch off. Finished the day doing practice written tests... now averaging about 89%. Should take the exam early next week. Brain hurts.
Bad alternator. Now being repaired and we'll try again tomorrow morning (1st morning flight). Doing approx 8 touch-and-goes at Midway airport (SE of here... not Chicago ) for takeoff/landing/pattern practice. Should be fun.
fyi... rumor is that the solo flight comes at about 22-23 hours on average.
also fyi... holding off on camera work for now, since flying is a very full-time job at the moment. I'll have plenty to take and share soon, though.
7/8/08
Tuesday, July 8th
1st day of class yesterday. Check-in details at 8am (passport, medical certificate, etc.), then introductions and orientation. As expected, I'm the old fart. The remaining 5 in my class range from 21-25. Hell, the oldest instructor I've met is 28. Afternoon spent watching Flight 101 videos. Homework is chapter 2 of the text which I've read about 5 times already.
2nd day today. Review of chapter 2 (aced) and chatted about maneuvers and expectations for the program and from their students. We all got a visit and stern talkin-tuh from the chief pilot, who warned us of the hazards of falling behind (25% washout rate!) and breaking/bending the ATP code-of-conduct. Shouldn't be an issue (as I sit here with a Heineken in my hand).
Airborne by 3pm... first flight in the Cessna 172R, ident N920TA. I missed the opportunity to snap a picture of her, since her next flight was to ATP's Houston location, but I have attached a pic of her twin sister. I'll start bringing my camera to class.
ANYWAY... preflight checklist, taxi and takeoff clearance, and full throttle up done by yours truly. Takeoff roll and climb done with help, but I was given the controls back at about 200ft and was tasked with taking us to 2500ft and on south to the practice area above Venus, Maypearl, and Alvarado TX . Completed some basic maneuvers, including a 180-degree turn. Not much traffic... just two Southwest 737s above us (both on approach to Dallas Love Field) and a fellow classmate behind and below me in another Cessna. Moderate turbulence (hot day, gusty winds, thermals). Got us back to Arlington and into the landing pattern before instructor Sean took over the base and final legs for landing. He says the next landing is all mine. Sean's a good and patient instructor... he's a veteran of the same program. Finished the day soaked with sweat (heat, not nerves), and feeling pretty satisfied with 1.5 hours in my logbook. I'm happy with the Dallas location choice for several reasons (heavy traffic area, Dave nearby), but there's another reason I hadn't considered... there's no terrain here! These flat Texas horizons make maintaining orientation difficult, and that challenge will make me a pretty good pilot, methinks.
Tomorrow is chapter 3 review, steep turns, and ground reference maneuvers (staying oriented while making different types of turns). They don't dawdle, these guys.
2nd day today. Review of chapter 2 (aced) and chatted about maneuvers and expectations for the program and from their students. We all got a visit and stern talkin-tuh from the chief pilot, who warned us of the hazards of falling behind (25% washout rate!) and breaking/bending the ATP code-of-conduct. Shouldn't be an issue (as I sit here with a Heineken in my hand).
Airborne by 3pm... first flight in the Cessna 172R, ident N920TA. I missed the opportunity to snap a picture of her, since her next flight was to ATP's Houston location, but I have attached a pic of her twin sister. I'll start bringing my camera to class.
ANYWAY... preflight checklist, taxi and takeoff clearance, and full throttle up done by yours truly. Takeoff roll and climb done with help, but I was given the controls back at about 200ft and was tasked with taking us to 2500ft and on south to the practice area above Venus, Maypearl, and Alvarado TX . Completed some basic maneuvers, including a 180-degree turn. Not much traffic... just two Southwest 737s above us (both on approach to Dallas Love Field) and a fellow classmate behind and below me in another Cessna. Moderate turbulence (hot day, gusty winds, thermals). Got us back to Arlington and into the landing pattern before instructor Sean took over the base and final legs for landing. He says the next landing is all mine. Sean's a good and patient instructor... he's a veteran of the same program. Finished the day soaked with sweat (heat, not nerves), and feeling pretty satisfied with 1.5 hours in my logbook. I'm happy with the Dallas location choice for several reasons (heavy traffic area, Dave nearby), but there's another reason I hadn't considered... there's no terrain here! These flat Texas horizons make maintaining orientation difficult, and that challenge will make me a pretty good pilot, methinks.
Tomorrow is chapter 3 review, steep turns, and ground reference maneuvers (staying oriented while making different types of turns). They don't dawdle, these guys.
7/1/08
Preflight
Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure... than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.
-Theodore Roosevelt
This proverb has been an important and sentimental one to my family. My parents have had it in a frame on the wall all my life. I've always enjoyed it, but the inspiration it offered was lost on me until recently, when I realized I was a few years away from being a 40-year-old still living in that gray twilight. Something had to change, and soon.
Near the end of 2006, I decided that I'd had about enough of the administrative chores of the corporate travel business and started investigating my dream jobs.
Third baseman for the Padres? Good turnover rate, but outside of my skill set. Saturday Night Live writer? Nope... I have a sense of humor and I don't care for cocaine. Airline pilot? More achievable than I thought possible.
Commence flight school shopping. For a number of reasons I decided on ATP and began the enrollment process, but a medical snafu left me with a long hurry-up-and-wait spell. My folks suggested that I take that time to live with them for a few months so we can spend some gettin-to-know-ya-all-over-again time, which was too good to pass up. I left San Diego six months ago for Nevada City, California, where they have enjoyed a very happy retired life for some time. I took them up on their offer with the goal of shaking up my comfortable but unsatisfying lifestyle in Southern California while my FAA medical clearance was under review, and the experience exceeded all of my expectations.
I arrived in January and was greeted by nearly six weeks of snowfall. While my truck was hopelessly stuck,
the folks and I got reacquainted in a hurry, and wonderfully so. Mom and I cooked every day and Dad and I replaced the rear axle on his 1932 Ford Model B. We caught up on old movies (and some new ones) and chatted endlessly about life and history and family. Family friend George Rebane (a local luminary) reserved me a seat at his monthly poker game with the Nevada City elite. It was a fine distraction that improved my game, and I am forever grateful.
By March I was still waiting on the FAA and needed to take a job so I could get out of the house and make a little scratch. A local agency sent me to the Placer County Assessor Office, who put me to work helping to organize the Proposition 8 value reductions standards. A good job with terrific people, to be sure. If you ever need your Placer County property assessed, see them first!
In May, the good news finally arrived. The FAA had awarded me a 1st-class medical certificate and I was free to begin training. ATP set me up with a start date of July 7th, 26 lbs of books and materials to study, and a choice of training locations. I originally had my heart set on a Florida location (Jacksonville or Panama City) but I opted for Dallas (Arlington, actually), mainly because one of my best buddies lives here with his wife and son, and I thought it would be great to be able to reconnect with him like I did with my parents, since he's been here for about 5 years and I only get to see him a few times a year.
On June 25th I said goodbye to work, and three days later I say goodbye to the parents. Since I never went to college, this seemed like a moment that came about 20 years late, but it felt just like I always imagined it would, and I won't describe it publicly.
Texas ho!
June 28th - Nevada City CA to Laughlin NV.
The CD player in my truck is on the blink, so I spent most of the trip listening to and critiquing the local radio stations as I roll through.
Hey, Highway 99 corridor... .38 Special was a pretty good band, but there's lots of other great music out there. Try some.
The scenery along Highway 58 near Tehachapi (between Bakersfield and Barstow) is gorgeous. I had no idea.
Laughlin's an odd place, but wonderfully so. I'd already been here enough to know that it's Mecca for toothless cocktail waitresses (I figure there must be a women's prison nearby... a theory as yet unconfirmed), but this was my first encounter with a tattooed female front-desk clerk. Proudly displayed, from armpit to armpit, clavicles to solar plexus, was a tattoo of a birthday cake with crossed spears through the center. I can't recall ever getting away with that long a look at a woman's chest. I was, for the first time ever, hypnotized. Mistaking my stunned silence for art admiration, she upgraded me to a fabulous river view room.
By the way, this is the view from my fabulous river view room (brought to you by The Home Depot). Sorry, but attempting a photo of the front-desk clerk would've certainly earned me a broken bottle to the windpipe.
June 29th - Laughlin NV to Albuquerque NM
Not much to report along this trip, but I was impressed that a radio station in Holbrook AZ was playing The Sugarcubes. I'm either underestimating the retro-hip sensibilities of this community, or they still think it's 1988.
I had to remind myself that I've never been to Albuquerque. Surprising, since I've been around the area several times on different roadtrips. Alamogordo, Roswell, Deming, Ruidoso, but not the biggie. Wish I could say that I saw any of it, but this was my view the entire time...
June 30th - Albuquerque NM to Roanoke TX (Dave's place)
More hum-drum, offset by Baptist hellfire. The radio scan netted a station featuring a minister who was failing in his attempts to fire-and-brimstone his way past his own glaring speech impediment, perhaps a cleft palate. He was also feverishly preaching a Deuteronomy verse that warns of being damned to hell if one is sick and does not seek medical attention for oneself. I've got a balcony seat in the seventh circle already reserved, and I was alone in the car, so I felt fine about laughing my ass off as I imagined that sermon being spat all over the thoroughly moistened front row.
Gas/eats in Moriarty, NM. Across the street from the gas station was a large modular building with "FIREWORKS FIREWORKS FIREWORKS"
emblazoned over every square inch of available wallspace. Curious to the nature of this retail market, I went inside to find, not curios, jewelry, or native cultural crafts... but fireworks. Aisles and aisles of fireworks. "Baghdad Costco" was my first thought, which made myself giggle. And there were a handful of people inside, sniffing and thumping artillery shells like they were shopping for the ripest cantaloupe. A pretty, smiling 40-ish lady greets me.
"Do you need a cart?", she asks me, gesturing toward a rack of full-size chromed-steel grocery carts.
"No, I'll just have a look around if you don't mind."
"Yeah, everyone says that and they always change their mind. I'll be back to ask you again in a few minutes. Anyway, you'll find artillery along this wall... missiles and rockets in the center aisle... finale mortars along the back wall. All of it's organized from front to rear in order of report volume. Firecrackers, sparklers, and other kiddie stuff is by the register. Just give me a holler if you have any questions!"
"Thanks!"
I love America.
"That John Denver's full of shit." Greetings from outside Amarillo.
By the way, I've been following old Route 66 (now Interstate 40) ever since Barstow. Hard to imagine doing this trip at wartime speed in a 1939 Plymouth. Amarillo marks the spot to veer off I-40 for Texas Highway 287, following the Red River south of Oklahoma through the metropoli of Memphis, Chillcothe, Oklaunion, and Vernon. Now, I love seeing America by car, but this was one of the longest days of my life. The most entertaining scenery comprised of abandoned filling stations with the price still showing gas at 98 cents for regular and 63 cents for diesel. Echoes of a time long-since forgotten... 1994. Our kids just won't know and won't understand.
Arrived at my buddy Dave's house late enough for him to be in bed and wife Brittany and son Colin up to greet me. Again, after that trip, I was just glad to have a couch to call home. Now for a week of studying and gearing up to be a 37-year-old freshman.
Mighty things await.
-Theodore Roosevelt
This proverb has been an important and sentimental one to my family. My parents have had it in a frame on the wall all my life. I've always enjoyed it, but the inspiration it offered was lost on me until recently, when I realized I was a few years away from being a 40-year-old still living in that gray twilight. Something had to change, and soon.
Near the end of 2006, I decided that I'd had about enough of the administrative chores of the corporate travel business and started investigating my dream jobs.
Third baseman for the Padres? Good turnover rate, but outside of my skill set. Saturday Night Live writer? Nope... I have a sense of humor and I don't care for cocaine. Airline pilot? More achievable than I thought possible.
Commence flight school shopping. For a number of reasons I decided on ATP and began the enrollment process, but a medical snafu left me with a long hurry-up-and-wait spell. My folks suggested that I take that time to live with them for a few months so we can spend some gettin-to-know-ya-all-over-again time, which was too good to pass up. I left San Diego six months ago for Nevada City, California, where they have enjoyed a very happy retired life for some time. I took them up on their offer with the goal of shaking up my comfortable but unsatisfying lifestyle in Southern California while my FAA medical clearance was under review, and the experience exceeded all of my expectations.
I arrived in January and was greeted by nearly six weeks of snowfall. While my truck was hopelessly stuck,
the folks and I got reacquainted in a hurry, and wonderfully so. Mom and I cooked every day and Dad and I replaced the rear axle on his 1932 Ford Model B. We caught up on old movies (and some new ones) and chatted endlessly about life and history and family. Family friend George Rebane (a local luminary) reserved me a seat at his monthly poker game with the Nevada City elite. It was a fine distraction that improved my game, and I am forever grateful.By March I was still waiting on the FAA and needed to take a job so I could get out of the house and make a little scratch. A local agency sent me to the Placer County Assessor Office, who put me to work helping to organize the Proposition 8 value reductions standards. A good job with terrific people, to be sure. If you ever need your Placer County property assessed, see them first!
In May, the good news finally arrived. The FAA had awarded me a 1st-class medical certificate and I was free to begin training. ATP set me up with a start date of July 7th, 26 lbs of books and materials to study, and a choice of training locations. I originally had my heart set on a Florida location (Jacksonville or Panama City) but I opted for Dallas (Arlington, actually), mainly because one of my best buddies lives here with his wife and son, and I thought it would be great to be able to reconnect with him like I did with my parents, since he's been here for about 5 years and I only get to see him a few times a year.
On June 25th I said goodbye to work, and three days later I say goodbye to the parents. Since I never went to college, this seemed like a moment that came about 20 years late, but it felt just like I always imagined it would, and I won't describe it publicly.
Texas ho!
June 28th - Nevada City CA to Laughlin NV.
The CD player in my truck is on the blink, so I spent most of the trip listening to and critiquing the local radio stations as I roll through.
Hey, Highway 99 corridor... .38 Special was a pretty good band, but there's lots of other great music out there. Try some.
The scenery along Highway 58 near Tehachapi (between Bakersfield and Barstow) is gorgeous. I had no idea.
Laughlin's an odd place, but wonderfully so. I'd already been here enough to know that it's Mecca for toothless cocktail waitresses (I figure there must be a women's prison nearby... a theory as yet unconfirmed), but this was my first encounter with a tattooed female front-desk clerk. Proudly displayed, from armpit to armpit, clavicles to solar plexus, was a tattoo of a birthday cake with crossed spears through the center. I can't recall ever getting away with that long a look at a woman's chest. I was, for the first time ever, hypnotized. Mistaking my stunned silence for art admiration, she upgraded me to a fabulous river view room.
By the way, this is the view from my fabulous river view room (brought to you by The Home Depot). Sorry, but attempting a photo of the front-desk clerk would've certainly earned me a broken bottle to the windpipe.June 29th - Laughlin NV to Albuquerque NM
Not much to report along this trip, but I was impressed that a radio station in Holbrook AZ was playing The Sugarcubes. I'm either underestimating the retro-hip sensibilities of this community, or they still think it's 1988.
I had to remind myself that I've never been to Albuquerque. Surprising, since I've been around the area several times on different roadtrips. Alamogordo, Roswell, Deming, Ruidoso, but not the biggie. Wish I could say that I saw any of it, but this was my view the entire time...
June 30th - Albuquerque NM to Roanoke TX (Dave's place)
More hum-drum, offset by Baptist hellfire. The radio scan netted a station featuring a minister who was failing in his attempts to fire-and-brimstone his way past his own glaring speech impediment, perhaps a cleft palate. He was also feverishly preaching a Deuteronomy verse that warns of being damned to hell if one is sick and does not seek medical attention for oneself. I've got a balcony seat in the seventh circle already reserved, and I was alone in the car, so I felt fine about laughing my ass off as I imagined that sermon being spat all over the thoroughly moistened front row.
Gas/eats in Moriarty, NM. Across the street from the gas station was a large modular building with "FIREWORKS FIREWORKS FIREWORKS"
emblazoned over every square inch of available wallspace. Curious to the nature of this retail market, I went inside to find, not curios, jewelry, or native cultural crafts... but fireworks. Aisles and aisles of fireworks. "Baghdad Costco" was my first thought, which made myself giggle. And there were a handful of people inside, sniffing and thumping artillery shells like they were shopping for the ripest cantaloupe. A pretty, smiling 40-ish lady greets me."Do you need a cart?", she asks me, gesturing toward a rack of full-size chromed-steel grocery carts.
"No, I'll just have a look around if you don't mind."
"Yeah, everyone says that and they always change their mind. I'll be back to ask you again in a few minutes. Anyway, you'll find artillery along this wall... missiles and rockets in the center aisle... finale mortars along the back wall. All of it's organized from front to rear in order of report volume. Firecrackers, sparklers, and other kiddie stuff is by the register. Just give me a holler if you have any questions!"
"Thanks!"
I love America.
"That John Denver's full of shit." Greetings from outside Amarillo.By the way, I've been following old Route 66 (now Interstate 40) ever since Barstow. Hard to imagine doing this trip at wartime speed in a 1939 Plymouth. Amarillo marks the spot to veer off I-40 for Texas Highway 287, following the Red River south of Oklahoma through the metropoli of Memphis, Chillcothe, Oklaunion, and Vernon. Now, I love seeing America by car, but this was one of the longest days of my life. The most entertaining scenery comprised of abandoned filling stations with the price still showing gas at 98 cents for regular and 63 cents for diesel. Echoes of a time long-since forgotten... 1994. Our kids just won't know and won't understand.
Arrived at my buddy Dave's house late enough for him to be in bed and wife Brittany and son Colin up to greet me. Again, after that trip, I was just glad to have a couch to call home. Now for a week of studying and gearing up to be a 37-year-old freshman.
Mighty things await.
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