I mulled over a witty title for this post before deciding on the minimalist approach. Bottom line: As I type this, it’s been just under two hours since I was in the plane, and I still break into a giant grin about every five minutes or so. I can’t help it. That sentence keeps hitting me like bolt of lightning… driving down the road, ho-hum… wait, I flew solo today. *cackle*
It’s been an interesting week since last Monday’s breakthrough performance. Given the choice, I would have gone out the next day, but the weather’s been iffy this week. Thursday looked like the best chance, so I booked 546DC that afternoon. But in the wake of heavy rains Tuesday, winds were brisk both Wednesday and into Thursday. 15 knots gusting to 25 isn’t great for anybody, much less a student with no help. So we rescheduled for Friday afternoon. I spent the workday Friday watching the clock like a hawk, until I got a call from Scott. 546DC was broken- apparently no juice from the battery at all. Still, I decided to head out from work early and over to PDK to review my pre-solo written exam with Scott. In the meantime, I was checking the schedule for the DA20 at Gwinnett. It was free Sunday afternoon, but Sunday’s forecast called for lots and lots of rain. However, she was free Saturday morning before 11:30. Rain was expected to roll in Saturday afternoon, but I figured it was worth a shot, so I scheduled a 9 AM flight. The pre-solo exam review went well; Scott was skeptical about the weather for Saturday, but agreed to give it a whirl.
I spent Friday evening watching the weather like a hawk, all the while chanting to myself, “The rain will hold off. The rain will hold off.” Got up this morning, and things were looking good. Rain was looking to be arriving around noon; in the meantime, the clouds were high enough to fly under. Winds were a bit stiff, but at least well-aligned with the runway at Gwinnett. At 8:15 I headed east, willing the truck to hurry up and get warm before I developed frostbite.
I arrived at LZU a couple minutes ahead of Scott. Up in the office, Bruce informed us he had put the charger on the plane to make sure it had juice to get the plane started, despite the near-freezing temps. Right there in the office, Scott signed my logbook and medical certificate. Now I just had to prove I was up to it in the air.
Actually, first we had to bring the plane to life, which proved to be no easy task. We gave it a few tries, coming close a few times, but never getting it to catch. We sought help from Bruce, who joined me in the plane and tried some more. Same thing- every couple of tries, the engine would fire a few times, but never really catch. Things were starting to look bleak, and I confronted the possibility of a third postponement, especially after the last start attempt, when the prop stopped. The battery was nearly dead. One more try- and then, like magic, she caught. Bruce and I sat for about ten minutes to get the engine warm, and then he swapped with Scott. This time, the engine fired right up, and it was go time.
In the runup area, things were iffy again. On testing the mags, the engine ran noticeably bad on right only. And again, I thought we might be a bust after all, but Scott told me about how excessive idling with the mixture full-rich could foul the plugs. We ran the engine for a bit with the mixture leaned out, and it cleaned up satisfactorily.
In the air, my task was deceptively simple: show Scott three good full-stops in a row. Working against me was the wind- it was well-aligned with the runway, so there was a minimal crosswind component, but still stiff at about 10 knots. The first effect of the wind was a serious boost in climb performance. Normally, at the 500′ AGL mark, I bring the flaps up and turn crosswind; I did this today, and Scott reminded me not to turn crosswind before reaching the end of the runway. That’s the first time I’ve ever had to worry about that…
Things got off to a shaky start with the first landing. Pattern was good, but I got way fast on short final; up near 80 knots instead of the proper 65. Flare was ugly, and I took a hefty bounce…up with the power, we’re going around. Not the performance I wanted today at all. Doubt crept back in again… was I going back to the days of high flares and trampoline touchdowns? I resolved to do better next time around… and I did. Then I did it two more times. As I rolled out on #3, Scott called the tower, and reality started to set in.
“Tower, 1JA, I’m going to solo my student, can I come up to the tower and watch from there”
“Sure thing.”
So I taxied down to the base of the tower. Before getting out, Scott made sure I was OK.
“Ready for this? Have any questions or concerns for me?”
“Oh, I’ve got plenty of concerns, but I think I’ll be OK.” (I probably would have failed a lie detector test on that one)
Just like that, I was lone. In the airplane. In the left seat. With the engine running. To my right, there was a cavernous space. It seemed so… wrong. I uttered a few things that would probably best not be repeated in mixed company, but there was no one to hear them but me. There were a few moments of hesitation. I had to do it; it was time, and I knew I was ready, even if my emotions strongly disagreed. Finally, I got up the courage to call ground and get taxi instructions. That broke the freeze; my right hand obeyed me and moved the throttle, and I was moving. Alone. Down at the runway, I keyed the mike.
“Tower, 1JA is holding short 7.”
“1JA, you’re still on the ground frequency.”
*slap* OK, take 2.
“Tower, 1JA is holding short 7.” No response. That doubting part of my brain became convinced that the radio had just broken. I think I was expecting some random problem to crop up and stop this madness. After about 30 seconds, I repeated my call.
“1JA, hold short.”
I waited. Then I waited some more. Finally, tower called and informed me Scott was on his way up, so he was holding me for him. I was OK with this, perhaps out of some malformed sense of procrastination. After about five minutes, I thought back to the plug fouling issue earlier… I didn’t want that to happen again, so I made use of Scott’s info and leaned the plane while bringing the throttle up. I waited like that a few more minutes before getting the takeoff clearance.
“1JA, fly left closed traffic, cleared for takeoff runway 7.” A remarkably calm voice issued from my mouth and repeated the clearance.
And then I was sprinting down the runway, feeding in right rudder to maintain centerline. 45 knots came up fast, and I was flying. Actually, I was FLYING. Look, I’ve been a flying groupie for a while. I’ve read plenty of first solo stories, all of which contained some reference to amazement at the improved performance with just one person on board. Even though I understood this and expected it, I was unprepared for the magnitude of the change. Between the light load and the headwind, I felt like I was climbing in an F-15. If I had maintained Vx or even Vy, I would certainly have been at pattern altitude before even getting to the end of the runway. As it was, I climbed at about 75-80 knots and still found myself pulling power on the crosswind turn to level at 2000′.
Landing #1 was one of my best yet. I leveled out just right, flared nicely, and touched down gently. This hits on another little nugget from the doubting part of my mind- I’d made good landings before, but that part of my brain suspected I was getting help from the right seat. Obviously, this wasn’t true, or I never would have soloed- but still this was the first landing where there was no denying that I did the whole thing.
Back around for #2. I still was stunned by the climb performance, and actually overshot pattern altitude by about 100′. Abeam the touchdown point, power comes out, flaps to takeoff, start the descent. This time, I got distracted by something- perhaps that still-bizarre sight of the empty right seat- and didn’t pay attention to my descent rate. As I turned base, I glanced down and was alarmed to see I was still at pattern altitude! OK, I can deal with this… drop the last notch of flaps early, get slow, pull power. I was still a bit high turning final, but I got back on slope and things were looking good until the last second- I leveled a bit early, and then as I was flaring, the left wing dropped and the plane drifted left of centerline. The idea of going around entered my head at the same time the left wheel touched down and the plane bounced a bit. Going around was still on my mind, but I got the plane level, and put it down smoothly the second time.
One more to go. This time, I kept a better eye on my descent rate, and maintained speed much better on final. I leveled out high again, but recovered nicely for a decent landing. A little rougher than I’d like, but not unsafe by any means. Couple minutes later, I was picking Scott up for the trip back down to Advanced. I didn’t really let myself grin until I saw him walking toward the plane. It was like it was some kind of affirmation that I really had soloed. I was in the plane, and he was on the ground.
As we taxied back to Advanced, we talked about… something. I think I was making intelligent conversation, but I wouldn’t swear to it. Up in the office, I made use of the heretofore-ignored “Pilot in Command” column of my logbook. .6 hours solo, 3 landings. Scott and I then headed over to the on-airport restaurant, the Flying Machine, where I enjoyed a post-solo cheesesteak and fries, which Scott generously paid for. That random grinning thing was really taking hold here… eat a french fry, chew a bite of cheesesteak… wait, I just soloed. *cackle*
So now it’s time to move beyond basic maneuvers and pattern work… there’s plenty to learn still. For now, I still need Scott’s OK before any solo flights, and a logical next step is soloing out at PDK and then getting permission to do more than just tool around in the pattern. It probably won’t be long before I’ll be doing solo cross-country work. For that matter, it won’t be long before I’ll be going for the checkride.
*whew*
[...] many ways, it was a sort of emotional rehash of my first solo. You just get used to doing things with someone else; preflighting the airplane, climbing [...]