So today, it was time to set aside the solo afterglow and return to the dreary world of dual time. Well, not that dreary, but sometimes I do surrender to the needs of poetic license around here. Today was really the first decent day since I soloed Saturday morning- the last three days were filled with joys such as heavy rains and fog. Today, however, was nice and sunny, though a bit breezy. I excused myself from the office at 3 and made my way over to PDK. Earlier, I’d gotten a text from Scott that 546 was sporting a shiny new battery and was back in service. Good to know.
In the office, we busted out the ASA syllabus to figure out what to do today. I still need to solo at PDK, but as I mentioned before, today was a bit breezy, and on top of that I need to step up my radio game a bit to handle the traffic. Instead, Scott decided on some simulated instrument time, unusual attitude recovery, and general maneuvering practice.
Out on the ramp, after preflighting and firing the plane up, I handled the comms and got us out to the runup area at 2L. Here was a rather impressive traffic jam; the Cessna exiting the runup area was #5 holding short, and after my runup, no one had yet left. I had to exit the runup area back towards the ramp to swing around behind that Cessna. Truth be told, with the long parallel runway closed, I’m surprised I haven’t seen a backup like this before. Anyhoo, after some sitting, we were finally #1, and then cleared to takeoff. In the air, I did a big no-no; winds were generally from the west, tending to push me off the centerline to my right… that is, towards the parallel. Since it’s closed, this isn’t an immediate safety issue today, but other times, drifting over there after takeoff could have serious consequences. Point taken; get a ground reference to maintain that course on takeoff.
I was climbing through about 2000′ when Scott brought out a wonderful gift: Foggles. For those not in the know, the point of Foggles, as well as other “view-limiting devices,” is to make it difficult to see outside the airplane, thus forcing the hapless wearer to fly on instruments. Flying off the instruments is quite a bit harder than one might think- for a left-brained guy like myself, I tend to think of it just in terms of data processing; if A, then B. Which it really is, but there are multiple instruments to monitor, each one working the same way; look for deviation, maneuver to correct, scan other instruments, come back, detect deviation again, repeat, over and over. It was surprising the tendency I had to put the plane into a turn. Just completing the climbout and leveling at altitude was a challenge.
The Foggles stayed on long enough to do some basic maneuvers and to introduce standard-rate and timed turns. By performing a standard rate turn, the airplane will complete a full circle in two minutes. Standard rate turns are particularly useful in the case of a direction gyro failure; the magnetic compass is only really accurate in straight, unaccelerated flight, so attempting to turn to a heading based on the compass can be difficult. Instead, one can use a timer and a standard rate turn to make a predefined heading change, and then refine with the compass as needed.
Eventually, the contraption came off my head, and I was perceptibly disoriented to have my visual reference back. It was strange to see Lake Lanier off the nose, when the last time I saw the ground was just a few miles out of PDK. Next we discussed “unusual attitudes,” which is a rather benign term for a serious issue. Say I were to look down for a few seconds, checking a sectional or some such, and look up to find myself in an unintentional climb or descent. It’s important to be able to recognize the state and recover assertively. The way this is practiced is for the student (me) to close his eyes and think about bunnies or some such while the instructor takes the plane, yanks and banks a bit to disorient eh student as to what’s going on, and then have the student open his eyes and recover.
It was actually kind of fun. Close my eyes, hum a show tune, open them… nothing but sky, cut power push the nose over, level the wings. Not too bad. (though later I’ll have to do this under the hood) The last one was a bit disturbing, though- I opened my eyes and saw nothing but earth under me. Descending right turn, maneuver to correct, and I hope I never actually see that in flight. (unintentionally, at least)
I wrapped up with a power-off stall and a few steep turns, and then we headed back to PDK. On the way, the Foggles came out again, while Scott vectored me into PDK. I had no idea how far this was going to go, but they stayed on until I had entered the pattern and turned final. Remember the disorientation when I took them off the first time? It’s even better when you’re on approach. Between the instrument-visual transition and the wind, I did a pretty ugly touch & go. We stayed in the pattern for a few more, and then did the full-stop and went back to the ramp.
Sadly, with the holiday coming up, it’ll probably be almost two weeks before I can fly again. I’m heading home for Christmas Saturday and staying through the next weekend, so I’ll have to work to retain everything when I come back. Maybe then I can take care of the PDK solo and be ready to go out to the practice area on my own in January. Cross-country solos will probably be here before I know it…
