Friday, September 26th

Lots going on here, but nothing that would make for solid copy. Mostly book learnin' and studying up for our written instrument test, which should be in the next few days. Checkride in about two weeks. And my instructor Troy is getting hitched this weekend, so we got subs for a few days.

Went up yesterday afternoon to practice approaches and holds after a disastrous morning session in the sim* which rattled my confidence. The flight went great... shot a VOR-DME approach and a GPS approach (the Seminoles all have dual Garmin GNS 430s, by the way) at Corsicana which both went good, then an ILS approach back into Arlington which was damn near perfect. Feeling great about my progress.

--

Nearly everyday I read the online version of my hometown paper, uniontrib.com, and today they reminded me of the 30th anniversary of the crash of PSA flight 182. Sorry to wax sentimental about such a morose topic, especially on a blog that's meant to spin aviation as a wonderful pursuit, but it's weighing on my mind. Christ... 30 years.

I was a second-grader at Francis Parker School on September 25th, 1978 when word came in before lunch that a plane had crashed in North Park and that a lot of people had died. A 7-year old doesn't have much concept of such things, but I knew that my sister Maggie lived in North Park, so I got pretty scared until I discovered upon returning home that she was okay. Ever since, I've been fascinated with that incident. As the years went on and I matured along with the historical significance, I realized just how much PSA and that crash meant to San Diego (its headquarters).

In fact, my first memory of flying was on a PSA plane, on a night flight as a toddler (from L.A. to San Diego, Mom reminds me). One of their famously gorgeous stewardesses asked me if I wanted some ice cream. Presumably with Mom's approval, she led me by the hand up to the galley and helped me make a sundae... fudge, nuts, whipped cream, everything... in a glass bowl! Try getting that kind of service on a 10-hour flight these days, much less a 40-minute hop.

30 years!

Events like these are a reality that pilots and passengers face, but from them is born new technology that keeps us all pretty safe, and I, for one, am quite grateful for it.


* thanks for reminding me... it's technically a "flight training device", not a simulator. I wish sarcastic inflection was an option in written form.

We have three of these at Arlington. It my not look like a whole lot, but has features that make it remarkably close to flying the Seminole. In fact, controlling this thing is a bitch... much tougher than the real thing, since the "outdoors" are only found immediately in front of the left seat and of course, the "seat of the pants" sensations are missing. Still a pretty good trainer, though. We're getting to know each other quite well...

Monday, September 22nd

Quick one...

Yesterday was a very good day overall. Sim and ground school in the morning, learning about ILS approaches, GPS approaches, missed-approach procedures, holds and fixes.

About 1700 I file an IFR flight plan to Waco and back to try this stuff in a real-world environment. Going up in 6816A, a brand-new 2008 Seminole. First of all, my radio calls are getting much better. Some ATC highlights from the flight...

"Seminole 6816A, cleared to KACT via JPOOL3 departure, Waco transition, climb and maintain 2,000, expect 6,000 after 10 minutes, departure frequency 128.62, squawk 5515."

(after a simulated missed approach into Waco) "Seminole 6816A, roger going missed, proceed as published, right turn to 2-5-0, climb and maintain 3,000, expect vectors for approach."

Standard stuff, actually. Typing this out now, it seems terribly easy, but to the ear of a student like me... listening to, comprehending, reading back and executing all this information while trying to stay airborne in moderate turbulence is definitely a learned skill. Looking forward to getting good at it.

Ended the evening at buddy Dave's (happy birthday, man!) house with carnitas and Monday Night Football. My Chargers put a cherry on a fine day, beating the Jets 48-29.


Ground school, practice written tests, and more simulator today. More reports as they become interesting.

Sunday, September 21st

Instrument phase! The meat of the whole program... learning how to fly a plane with no outside visual references while following ATC orders to the letter. It's tough to get the hang of!

I mentioned in earlier posts about getting some exposure to instrument flying during the time-building phase of the Cessna program, but now it's getting pretty intense, because I'm expected to act as pilot-in-command. Trial by fire.

Last night I took my first flight since my instrument checkride on Tuesday. At 1700 Troy and I went wheels-up in Seminole 6865A for Tulsa (Jones Airport again) flying VFR under a IFR flight plan. We get instructions for 4,000 feet as we crossed to the west of Dallas/Fort Worth airspace, and I suddenly get a taste of what it's like sharing the air with big planes as two commercial jets passed across our nose. Frontier Airlines Airbus at 11 o'clock, eastbound, 2,000 feet above us. American Eagle RJ, 10 o'clock, eastbound, 1,000 feet above us. Very exciting to be so close. Camera will be nearer to me for future flights.

Nearing Jones at twlight, we get vectored to the north to position for runway 19 right, behind three T-6 Texans that were flying in for what turned out to be a charity party in the hangar of the FBO we were heading for.

A quick bite to eat in the town of Jenks and we're heading home. This time Troy asks for and receives clearance for a cruise altitude of 10,000 feet... a new record for me. In an unpressurized cabin like this one, this means we gotta watch each other for signs of hypoxia, although neither of us is very worried... it's only a two hour flight. The Seminole got to 8,000 feet in no time... the remaining 2,000 feet seemed to take an eternity.

I've said it before... night flying is absolutely amazing. Cool stable air, less traffic (and friendlier controllers... a nice by-product) and not much to do except enjoy the scenery, above and below. The precision approach path lights are out at runway 16 at Arlington, so I'm on my own for establishing my glideslope back home. I nailed it. Not that tough, actually.

This phase requires a lot of book-learnin'... tons of ground school, studying, and training in the simulator to learn about approach plates, holds, fixes, and a bevy of other rather important details to make me a safe pilot. Stay tuned... after the instrument checkride in a few weeks comes the dual cross-country trips, when I'm paired with another student instead of an instructor. This should be fun...

Oh, and the primary lesson learned from Saturday's flight. The worst Italian food in the world is not found at Olive Garden. It's at Mazzio's of Jenks, Oklahoma. Please take heed when rolling though, my friends.

Tuesday, September 16th (multi-engine checkride)

A friend reminded me that I haven't mentioned anything about my living conditions here.

(my best Don Pardo) "Students at ATP Arlington stay at the fabulous Grand Courtyards Apartments in lovely Grand Prairie, Texas."

It's not a barracks, but it ain't exactly the Four Seasons. Actually, it's a very decent (but small) place... I'm just having to share it which is a hard sell for someone of my advanced years.

I'm in a 3-bedroom 2-bath apartment, and currently share it with three other students (with room for one more), none of whom are over 25. We get along fine. Some housekeeping issues, but that's to be expected. Joe is a month ahead of me in the program and has been an invaluable aid in last-minute exam cramming. Alex is in the CFI program and is just a few days away from being done. David is the new guy... just started the Private Pilot Program. They're so cute at that age!

Oh, and I passed my multi-engine checkride today. 8 hours of simulator time, 8 hours of actual flight time, and a truckload of study hours was all it took! On to the dreaded Instrument Rating. This will be about 3-4 weeks of intensive ground school, with 35 hours of flight time and about 45 hours in the simulator. This will be a real test... one of the most difficult phases of the program.

Celebrating tonight with Jenifer... an old friend of mine who lives here. I worked with her about 12 years ago when I lived in Austin. We lost touch over the years and I'm looking forward to getting re-acquainted. Maybe I should tell her that I'm a pilot...

Thursday, September 11th

Summer appears to be drawing to a close here in Texas... the weather is getting more predictable. Unfortunately it's predictably cloudy, and I gotta fly VFR for the next few weeks. On top of that, we've got Hurricane Ike threatening our livelihoods. Due to hit Houston Friday night with 100mph winds and hit us with 40-50mph winds by Saturday and into Sunday.

Day four of ACPP and I'm already getting a little bored with the simulator. It's fun, and remarkably close to the real thing, but it's just no substitute for actually going wheels-up. Today though, a break in the weather sent everyone scrambling for the ramp, and I got in on it. Troy (our main instructor for this phase) and I head out to 910KT... a 2000 model Seminole.


Preflight, left engine start, right engine start, taxi. It's already feeling very different, being a twin engine with low wings instead of the single engine high-wing Cessna. And remarkably cramped. I had heard this, but with kneeboard and headset attached and the door closed, it really became clear that sharing this space meant getting really familiar with your flight partner. And since the trim controls and fuel selectors are located between the seats... even more so. Excuse me... pardon me... my fault... 'scuse me...

Taxiing in an unfamiliar airplane is a bit awkward, but I get the hang of it quickly. After mistakenly identifying myself as 920TA (one of the Cessnas), I correct and get takeoff clearance. Man, this is what simulator just can't simulate. Full throttle in the Seminole really pushes you into your seat, and takeoff speed (75 knots) comes fast. I gasp at the rotation as we get off the ground.

"Positive rate... gear up."

I had feared forgetting to bring the gear up (a common error), but I didn't. We're off and flying. The terrain passes underneath us far quicker than I'm accustomed, but other than that it's not much different to fly this baby. I demo some maneuvers (stalls, slow flight, steep turns) like I did in the simulator, and did okay. Another few flights and I should be good to go for the checkride. Shot a few landings at Mid-Way, and also did fine. Much different landing the Seminole, since it doesn't float down the runway like the Cessna, but it's similar enough to get the hang of fairly quickly. One more landing at Arlington and we're done.

Excited beyond belief. This bird will be my home for the next 3 months.

Monday, September 8th (first day of ACPP)

After being off since August 20th, barely knowing what to do with myself except study in-between watching the Olympics and election coverage, it's time to get back to work, learning the Piper PA-44 Seminole for ATP's Airline Career Pilot Program.


I had four days last week to visit my sister and brother-in-law in New Jersey, and also had a night to spend with friends in Manhattan (see Jersey Boys at full price... the drummer's got a little one on the way!). Had to get the hell out of Texas and not think about flying for a few days. I think it did the trick. Got back Saturday, barely missing the remnants of Hurricane Hanna as it threatened NYC.

Today went much like the first day of the private program... lots of paperwork, a visit from the chief pilot, test results and logbook review. This time, however, I'm paired with one guy (old reliable Daniel) instead of being lumped into a class of six. The instruction already seems far more personable and easier to absorb. Good thing, too... because this is going to be a serious challenge. Flying a twin-engine requires more advanced knowledge of aerodynamic principles, and well... there's twice as much to go wrong with another engine!

Used a long break in the day to go out and sit in a Seminole for a while, to get formally acquainted. Feels like a blind date. "I've read about you and heard so much about you... I can't believe we finally get to meet!" She didn't return the compliment. Not yet, anyway.

I get asked frequently what I'll be doing next. Today's activity made this clearer. This week I'll be learning the Seminole from top to bottom, first on the ground, then in the simulator, then the first actual flight should be Wednesday if the weather holds up (it's raining now). By next Wednesday, I'll have my private multi-engine checkride. Scary to think... my checkride is scheduled but I haven't even flown this thing yet. Haven't even been in the sim yet! I trust that my school knows what they're doing. The next 30 days will be training for my instrument rating, which is a major headache. I've seen adult male tears shed over that one, so I hope I can keep up. The reward for passing the instrument checkride is that I'll graduate to the most fun part of this whole experience... dual cross-countries. I'll be paired with another student and will get to fly ACTUAL cross-countries, to California, Florida... and everywhere in between. Commercial ratings (single and multi-engine) come next, followed by Flight Instructor school. If all goes to plan, by mid-December I'll be done and holding enough certifications to land a job, probably as a CFI at first.

I had a nice surprise on the ramp when I was greeted by this.


The Arizona Commemorative Air Force is visiting Arlington and giving rides in this beautiful B-17 for the next few days. Since it's parked right next to ATP's ramp, Daniel and I moseyed over and got a closer look. I asked the man shown here, who was watching over things, where he was from. In a thick accent, he smiled and answered, "Germany. It is first time here."

I complimented him on the aircraft and lamented that I wouldn't be taking a ride today, then walked away puzzled, wondering if there any Japanese tour guides at Pearl Harbor.

First simulator flight at 0730 tomorrow.

Tomorrow's episode... "Simulated Inverted Flat Spins And The Students Who Love Them"

Saturday, August 16th

A day after a fairly uneventful trip to San Angelo, TX and back, Ben and I grabbed 920TA and filed a plan to Monroe, LA. I was excited, since I've always had a soft spot for the Bayou (New Orleans in particular), having been through here several times, and was looking forward to seeing it from the air. Here was what I saw enroute.


So much for aerial views of swampland. Nearly 3 hours and a successful ILS approach later, we're flagged into the local FBO by a very friendly guy who chocks our nosewheel, hands us the keys to the courtesy car, and suggests we head for the Waterfront Grill. Man, what a find! Started by sharing a bowl of crawfish dip, then I had a huge bowl of really bitchin'* gumbo. Nice view too.


We thank our concierge back at the FBO for the meal suggestion and start off back home. During the run-up (where we test the engine at the end of the taxiway), the left magneto check made the engine stutter and drop about 500 RPM, which isn't normal. I had seen this before, on my first solo cross-country, and knew how to fix it, but the procedure I had used before wasn't working. Ben fooled with it a few times but no joy, so back to the FBO. A phone call to Arlington and a new procedure later, problem solved and away we go.

It's dawning on me that my time in the Cessna is coming to an end, and I'm already getting a little sentimental about it. ATP's private pilot program comes with an 85-hour allowance and I'm at about 80. I'll get to fly them again briefly later in the program when I go for my commercial single certificate, but for now I'm already starting to miss it. It's made me a pretty good pilot and been a fun little bird to fly around in, especially when I get views like this on my way back from Monroe.


* Dad, this word is just fine. Use it loudly and liberally. (earlier family debate... carry on)

Thursday, August 14th

After a day off, Ben and I are back into 441CA and off to Houston. This was much like the return flight from Tulsa the other day... broken cloud layers and beautiful scenery. ILS approach into David Wayne Hooks Airport, but this time it was under the Foggles again, and my first try at minimum decision altitude... the point-of-no-return where I commit to either land or call a missed approach. After using instruments and ATC's instructions to navigate my way to the airport, Ben has me remove the Foggles at about 700 feet above the airport and I land pretty well. Not perfect, but going from sightless to sighted in a split-second occupies a number of brain cells.

Got a look at ATP's Houston location and grabbed the FBO's courtesy car to grab a bite to eat. Uneventful return flight.




Hey, they can't all be fascinating!

Tuesday, August 12th

"They've got cookies!"

Ben and I hop into 2656G and head north.

We filed an IFR flight plan to Stephenville yesterday, but today was the real test. Shortly after being directed through DFW's Class B airspace, we entered our first cloud... and stayed there for about 90 minutes on our way to Tulsa. All the book-learnin' on spatial disorientation and "trusting your instruments" came back to me like a fastball to the noggin, but reading about it and expereincing it are two very different things. The windshield turns stark white and my senses instantly starting telling me that I'm climbing and banking hard to the right. After focusing on the instruments for a second, I realize that I'm flying level but banking slightly left. The next hour and a half is spent adjusting my eyes and learning to scan my gauges. Tougher than it sounds, and hard to articulate.


Also experienced my first true ILS approach for landing into Tulsa's Jones Airport. Arrived exhausted but feeling pretty good about the flight. Learned something pretty cool!

While I chat up the gas truck driver, Ben ducks his head into the FBO and turns back to me, grinning. "They've got cookies!"

The way home was easier. Flying through a broken layer of clouds meant being able to keep my eyes focused on something other than just the instrument panel, which was far less fatiguing. On the way home I spotted my great-granddad's home of Denison, TX and took a photo. That's the Red River separating Texas and Oklahoma.

Good day of flying... and more to come.

Monday, August 11th

After the checkride, I had my first days off in over a month. I used it to sleep and watch the Olympics. Perfect timing! Starting Monday the 11th, it was back to work. This phase of the program is used to build logged hours and introduce us to IFR (instrument flight rules), a crucial part of the next phase of training.

First stop... Stephenville, home of the Hard Eight Barbeque. Ben and I flew 2656G there and met flight partners Daniel (with instructor Walt) and Ali (with instructor Javier). First flight through clouds, too... a fascinating experience. More on that later.


The Hard Eight is a popular fly-in, so they keep two golf carts at the FBO for transport to the restaurant, where we were greeted by the most beautiful sight these eyes have ever seen. Ever wonder what the salad bar in Heaven looks like? Here you go.


After crippling ourselves by ingesting obscene amounts of dead pig, we're homebound. Thanks to FlightAware for the illustrated track of our flight. As you can see, I'm learning about keeping my heading through clouds.

August 08, 2008 (private pilot checkride)

The final prep flight on Thursday didn't go well, as I was staying a step behind the procedures, seemingly always preoccupied with one thing or another, rather than looking ahead to the next item on my checklist or getting set for the next arrival. My landings also took a step backward, all of which concerned me since, as Ben reminded me ad-nauseum, my final exam was tomorrow. I spent the evening preparing the necessary navigation log for a flight from Arlington to Hillsboro to Lubbock, and getting quizzed for the oral exam by my roommate Joe, who went through this only a month ago and was a huge help. I still didn't sleep well that night.

0545 - I report to school to check on the weather and complete the endless array of paperwork needed to complete the upcoming tasks. At 0630 I'm greeted by K.B., a friendly 60-ish man who's one of ATP's two designated checkride examiners. Behind a closed office door, we sit down and he tells me what to expect about today's events. After the oral exam, we'll take a flight where I will be, in effect, carrying my first passenger and he'll expect a nice ride.

"Tell me about your aircraft."
"Tell me about the engine in your aircraft."
"Describe the electrical system in your aircraft."
"What are the required inspections needed for your aircraft and how often do they need it?"
"Tell me the V-speeds for this aircraft."
"Define density altitude."
"What's advection fog?"
"What's hypoxia? How can you tell if someone has it and what do you do about it?"
"Carbon monoxide poisoning... same questions."
"Describe wind shear."
"What's P-factor?"
"Define adverse yaw."
"Show me on the map where a Mode C transponder is required."
"What's the minimum visibility requirements for VFR flight in class G airspace at night?"

And on... for two hours.

When I was twelve, I competed in the San Diego County Spelling Bee. I couldn't tell you what words I spelled correctly, but I'll never forget the word I tanked*. Similarly, I'll always remember the one question that I completely missed on this day.

"Is participation in separation services mandatory in a Terminal Radar Service Area?"

Turns out that it's not. I still passed.

I drew a lucky card in getting 441CA, the bird that got me through my first set of good landings and my first solo. A call to weather services confirmed what I was a little worried about... the nearby front had shifted the winds and instead of taking off from the usual runway 1-6, I had to depart from 3-4, which I hadn't done before. No big deal, really... but I'm starting to wonder if there were any more curveballs coming my way.

Good takeoff and smooth air heading south toward Hillsboro. About halfway there, K.B. asks me to divert to Lancaster. Christ... Pennsylvania? California? I hadn't even heard of the Texas one. I whipped out my sectional chart and found it... just beyond good ol' Mid-Way Airport, where I'd been a hundred times, and was within sight at my 8-o'clock. I turned and headed that way, which put us on a perfect course for Lancaster. After I convinced him that I knew what I was doing navigationally, he had me demonstrate some maneuvers. Steep turns, check. Slow flight, check. Power-on stall, check. Power-off stall, check. Emergency landing, check.

"Never mind Lancaster. Take me to Mid-Way and show me some landings."

Along the way, K.B. hands me a things-that-can-go-wrong list. "What would you do if you experienced each of these?"

• partial or complete power loss
• engine roughness or overheat
• carb icing or induction icing
• loss of oil pressure
• fuel starvation
• electrical malfunction
• vacuum/pressure and associated instrument malfunction
• pitot/static malfunction
• landing gear or flap malfunction
• inoperative trim
• inadvertent door or window opening
• structural icing
• smoke/fire/engine compartment fire

I fight the urge to offer the funny answer, which is of course, "All at once? Crap my pants." Instead, I think out each one and answer well enough to keep going.

Short-field and soft-field takeoffs and landings at Mid-Way (also on the runway opposite the one I'm used to) go well. Keep in mind... a pilot on a checkride is waiting to hear the words "take me back to our airport". The earlier it's said, the worse the news. It's about this time that I hear it from K.B., and I'm only mostly sure that it's good news. A well-executed short-field landing and a taxi back to our ramp later, K.B. breathes.

"Congratulations. You've passed this test." I'm a pilot.

More paperwork and some congratulations from my mates back at the classrooms, and I'm off for the rest of the day. Celebration dinner and beers at Dave & Brittany's, where I'm asleep before midnight. I've got tomorrow off to let it all sink in.


* Jacamar. Not J-A-C-K-A-M-A-R.

Friday, August 1st

Well, it was shaping up to be another day in class, grounded by unfavorable atmospheric conditions. No thunderstorms today, but now the issue is haze and crosswinds. Even though I've done a ton of crosswind landings with a pilot in the right seat, school policy won't let me solo with a crosswind component greater than 7 knots. KCRS (Corsicana) reported crosswinds of 9 knots at 0800. Grumble.

By 1100, that crosswind was reported at 8 knots, and by 1pm... 4 knots. Go time for my 50nm cross-country. Visibility listed at 10 miles, but Matt warns us (having just flown) that he suspects less through the haze, so be careful. Daniel, (flying his 150 miler), Mike (first solo this morning, first cross-country this afternoon), and I preflight our planes. Today my flavor is 9485 Zulu, a steady mount that has treated me well before.

Oh, and it's 106 degrees on the ramp. Around here they call it 'balmy'.

We finally got a pretty good taste of the fun yet to come in next phases of this program... preflighting, taxiing, and flying together as a team. Daniel got a sizable headstart on us, since he had further to go and not much time to waste, but I stayed behind Mike all the way to Corsicana. Mike had already done a touch-and-go by the time I arrived, and Daniel was climbing out to head for Cleburne. I also landed, came to a full-stop, and taxied back around to do it again. One more and it was time to head home. Once again, Mike got ahead of me by about 10 miles but we kept a close 'radio eye' on each other. Along the way, I made my YouTube debut.



This was over Bardwell Lake, which doesn't show up. That's the Texas Motorplex (a drag strip, not to be confused with Texas Motor Speedway) just ahead of the right wing strut.

I wish I could really explain what I love about this. Amongst the noise and stress of watching traffic and gauges, there's an amazing sense of peaceful solitude up here. As I get better and better at this, I'm sure that sensation will amplify, and I can't wait to get there.

My first solo landing at Arlington wasn't exactly textbook. Approach procedures were perfect to the letter, but as I was on a 45-degree entry for left downwind, the tower and another Cessna miscommunicated and I wound up flying next to her on the remainder of the downwind, which was an odd predicament. Tower thought she was departing to the south, but she re-entered the pattern instead. I couldn't do a 360-degree turn to space us out, since traffic from Grand Prairie Airport was just off to my right. Tower requested an immediate short approach from the other plane, she complied and disappeared onto the runway, and I continued downwind, base, and final. Forgot to retract the flaps before my taxi back to the ramp, but other than that, I think we can chalk this flight up as a success.

It's Daniel's birthday. Burgers and beers at Cheddar's (next to the apartment), then home.

Next... the 150nm cross-country and checkride preps!

Thursday, July 31st

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...

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.

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

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!

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.

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!

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

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