Squawk1200

For the record, it was Scott who first suggested that magic pills may have been involved in today’s flight.  And before I go further: If anyone from the FAA happens to be reading this, the pills in question are strictly figurative.  Honestly.  Now about this whole flying thing… after a series of iffy landings Sunday, today’s flight was pretty much a total turnaround.  Neurons that had been previously groping aimlessly about in my head gathered to form useful bundles of knowledge and coordination.

Actually, to rewind a bit, the flight looked iffy for most of the day.  I arrived at work early to offset leaving at 3 for PDK, and as I kept an eye on the METAR throughout the day, things were questionable.  Most of the morning saw solid or broken clouds at about 1200 feet- too low to fly under safely.  But as 3 approached, I saw the reported clouds breaking up south of the city.  I stuck my head outside just before three, saw blue sky and sun off to the west, and decided to go for it.  I was rewarded with continued breaks in the clouds on the drive over to PDK.

Up in the Advanced office, Scott presented me with a take-home pre-solo exam.  I also have to do a shorter written exam in front of him before I’m good to solo, but that’ll be another day.  I tucked the exam in my bag and we trotted out to the plane.  Battery was a bit low, but it fired up and away we went.

Today’s practice was to be nothing but pattern work.  Instead of heading to our old haunt in Monroe, we took the short hop over to Fulton County. (KFTY)  It’s much closer than Monroe, and the only thing to watch out for is the Dobbins ARB airspace bordering FTY to the north.  Luckily, there’s a prominent smokestack of some kind that makes for a nice marker- stay south of it, and you’re A-OK.

Up in the air, the apparently clear skies belied the presence of a substantial haze starting around 2000′.  We briefly went up to 2500 before descending back down to pattern altitude at FTY.  Well, actually, I ended up at about pattern altitude +200; I hadn’t checked the field elevation and made the incorrect assumption it was nearly the same as PDK.  Perhaps as a result, as I made my turns to base and final, I found myself pretty high.  I was starting to think it was all going to begin again, but an odd thing happened: I got on slope, came over the numbers nicely, if a bit high, and the sun presented me with a nice visual aid- my own shadow to my left.  It made for a nice reinforcement of my height above the runway, and I leveled out, bled off some speed, and touched down nicely, maybe a bit hard, but no bounce.  Power up and go around for the next time.

The amazing part was that it wasn’t a fluke.  Next time around, I got pattern altitude right, and despite a looooong extended downwind from the tower, I came in nicely for another smooth one.  Probably my two best landings so far, back to back.  “How did that feel?”, Scott asked.  Well, pretty nice indeed.  #3 wasn’t quite so nice; I took a little bounce on it, but settled down nicely after that.  The next two were good ones, too.  I wasn’t sure what had happened to me.  24 hours saw me go from a big bounce and go-around to five passable landings in a row.

After #5, we pointed back east towards PDK.  I called up the tower and asked for one more touch & go followed by a full stop.  I got a 2-mile straight-in for 2L, but after a series of extended downwinds at FTY, I felt good about making it work… and I did.  then I wrapped up the day with my best yet- leveled out a few feet up, easing back on the stick, watching the airspeed drop out of the corner of my eye.  The stall horn started to buzz, I eased the back pressure a bit, and we were down, no drama at all.  Uncanny.

It was hard to stifle a grin afterward.  The last few flights had been frustrating; I wouldn’t go so far as saying I didn’t enjoy myself, but it was a near thing.  Those days, I’d come back to PDK feeling beat down, worn out… today, I would have happily stayed up for another hour if not for that pesky sunset issue.  It all came together and suddenly, it was tons of fun again.

There are other areas where I see myself improving, too.  It’s becoming less of a chore to hold left rudder in the climbout to stay coordinated.  Seemed like before, I was always glancing down, seeing the ball to the left… ok, more rudder…  Today, for the first time, I looked down and saw that I was putting too much left rudder.  I’m still far from perfect, but it’s starting to come to me.  I also stayed (mostly) on top of comms.  In the pattern at FTY, I dealt with long downwinds, waiting for the tower to call my base turns, getting a left 360 to let a jet land in front of me, etc.  I even kept the plane pretty much on centerline on the rollout at PDK.  Lesson learned; easy on the brakes.  They love to send the plane hither and yon if you let them.

So it looks like, conditions permitting, next time out could well be solo time.  I’m shooting for Thursday afternoon; I feel like I’m on a high and I don’t want to sit around for six days to go again. (Sunday is the next day where the weather looks tolerable)

Short version: 12.5 hours and no solo as of yet.  In the grand scheme of things, it’s not as if I’m way behind the curve or anything; but I suppose I had some odd (and highly unrealistic) fantasy that I would take to the stick and throttle like Art Scholl or something.  Heh.  Ok, I’m over myself now, let’s talk about the real world some more.

As the title alludes, the thing preventing me from soloing is that evil slice of time at the end of short final.  I’m getting better, but I’m still far from consistent- so today’s flight essentially consisted of going out to do some touch & gos and pattern work.  PDK being, well, PDK, this essentially requires going elsewhere; our chosen target was Monroe, GA. (D73)

My first concern going into today was the state of the airplane; I was actually supposed to fly this past Friday morning, but the battery was too low to get the engine started; then once we brought out the jumper cables (yes, they do exist for aircraft), the ignition switch proceeded to fail.  My concerns were not allayed when I arrived at PDK and noticed old 546DC with the canopy cover on- there had been reservation before me, and they would have left the cover off after their trip.  Up in the office, Scott confirmed that the previous folks hadn’t gone- the switch was replaced, but the battery was low again.  Out came the cables again; with the help of the other instructor on duty, we got the airplane started and the day was saved.

Taxi and takeoff were uneventful, save for a dude in a Baron who put a lot of effort into getting in front of us for the taxi and then proceeded to sit at the hold-short line for at least five minutes waiting on an IFR clearance.  Oh, and since the long parallel runway was closed for resurfacing, I had the somewhat odd experience of taking the runway with construction guys in hard hats about 75 feet away.  But before long, we were pointed east.

Since one thing offered today was a decent wind, I got to work on using trial-and-error to work out a wind correction angle.  Not following?  Well, unless you’re flying directly into or away from the wind, you’re not going to track a course identical to the aircraft’s heading; the wind pushes you off-course.  So in order to maintain a desired course, it’s necessary to point the nose into the wind slightly, and in order to evaluate the wind correction angle, some kind of reference is needed.  In this case, Scott set up the VOR receiver to track the course to D73, and I also had the course line on the GPS for extra guidance.  In fact, the line on the GPS gives a nice visual of the crab angle; I could look over and see the little airplane pointing to the right of the course line, yet tracking straight.  All in all, an enjoyable exercise.

Arriving at Monroe, we overflew the field, got a look at the windsock, and picked runway 3 for the day’s fun.  Alas, but the wind was abut 45 degrees of runway heading, so it was going to be a day of learning to deal with the crosswind.  Has to be done… I established my downwind, and flew a decent pattern.  I’ve got a pretty good handle on maintaining a good rectangular course and keeping my speed right in the pattern.  All was well until I turned final… whoa, that wind does a lot more than I expected.  I felt as if I was fighting it all the way down, but in the end I was over the numbers at a decent height.  It all went to crap from there… ugly flare, long float, and then a bounce that might have been impressive under conditions.  Scott reinforced my thoughts; that a go-around was in order.  Up with the throttle and flaps, and we’ll try again.  Second time around was better; good pattern, good final, pretty good flare, smooth touchdown, and we’re going again.  I was more prepared to deal with the wind this time, and wasn’t so far behind the airplane.

At this point, we took a quick break; a glider had been staging on the ground during our first two times around the pattern, and they asked to go after our second one.  No problem… we headed west and found a water tower so I could try turns around a point with some real wind.  Having just come from D73, and with the field still in sight, I had a good sensation of where the wind was coming from, and stayed on the tower fairly well, though I still have a tendency to gradually spiral in towards my point.  Scott also showed be a little cheat for the ground reference maneuvers- glancing at the ground speed readout on the GPS.  Since I’m (hopefully) not playing with the throttle in the turn, my airspeed should stay more or less constant; so checking the ground speed tells me whether I’m in head- or tailwind territory.  It was actually pretty impressive to watch; as I turned away from the wind, I watched the ground speed jump 10 knots in about 15 seconds.  Good tip.

Well, the glider and tow plane were clear of the field, so back to the pattern we went.  Since we were roughly parallel to the runway, we just flew a really wide downwind instead of angling in for a close pattern.  This required me to adjust my cues a bit, since we’d have a base leg about twice as long as normal.  This landing wasn’t bad, except that I floated way down the runway; as a precaution, Scott decreed a full-stop.  No problem, except there I go zigzagging across centerline on the rollout.  I really must stop trying to steer with the brakes on rollout.  There’s plenty or airspeed to use the rudder, and the brakes are sensitive enough that steering that way tends to become a losing battle and makes things get hairy in a hurry.  Nobody likes that, least of all me. (Scott may disagree on that point, though)

After taxiing back, we shot a couple more touch & gos, none of which were stellar, but then again there weren’t any go-arounds either.  After #2, the glider wanted to go up again, so we headed on back to PDK- my time block was starting to run out anyway.  On the cruise back, I was feeling frustrated.  It seems like the touch & go sessions always tax me near my limit, and just five or six times around the pattern can be pretty draining, especially with a crosswind like we had today.  I suppose what gets me about this is that it’s really the only thing that I feel isn’t coming to me easily at all.  Climbs, descents, turns, stalls, slow flight, ground reference- not bad at all.  If I bugger one of those up, I correct and go on.  Perhaps part of the thing with landing is that it’s not a constant thing I can correct and work with like flying straight and level.  Instead, it’s about 15 rapid seconds followed by five minutes to think about it.

Anyhoo, the cruise back was, in a way, a welcome relief, a respite from the concentration of pattern work, a time to get myself back under control and in control.  Scott asked if I wanted to do a touch & go or two back at PDK.  Actually, yes.  I always feel like that last landing of the day is a chance to redeem myself for my earlier transgressions, and I had felt like I left Monroe on a sour note.  PDK was a bit busy, but the tower controller was amenable to giving us a touch & go.  This one went much better, as did the following full-stop, though I did a bit of zigging again and even locked up a brake a couple times on the rollout.

Back at the ramp, as  I took off my headset, I had a revelation.  This was my first flight where I’d not once thought about how the headset was hurting my ears.  The reason was that I had my newly acquired Lightspeed set in hand, or maybe on head is a better term.  I’m not convinced the ANR on these does a lot, but then again, it is the bottom-tier model.  I’ll have to try switching the ANR on and off in flight to see how noticeable it is.  Regardless, the new set is worth it in sheer terms of comfort.

In the office, we debriefed, discussing flaring some more.  For my part, despite my issues, I felt a lot better at Monroe today with maintaining my glide slope by visual reference.  It was probably a questionable thing that I came into this knowing how to read a VASI or PAPI (glide slope indicators placed beside the runway), and I’d come to rely on them too much.  Since Monroe lacks these things, I’m forced to do without.  Last time out there, I actually felt lost on the slope a bit, but today I had a much better feel for the slope.

Sounds like next time, we might go west to Fulton County instead of Monroe.  The main benefit is that it’s far closer to PDK than Monroe, so there’s more time for pattern work and less time boring a hole in the sky.  And Lord knows I need more practice flying in the pattern than cruising.  The downside is that the FTY airspace borders the airspace around Dobbins ARB- better keep that pattern good and close! (Who knows, maybe I’ll see a Raptor fresh off the assembly line)

Next flight: Monday afternoon.

Normally I try to do these writeups fairly soon after going for a flight; otherwise details tend to vanish into the ether that is my decaying memory.  In this case, I’m roughly 30 hours behind the curve.  I kind of got lazy after coming home yesterday… well, that and a sort of random project distracted me.  I was adding the latest flight to my online logbook, and got to thinking that it would be nifty if I could display info from LogShare here in the blog, maybe in the sidebar.  Long story short, what started as a “I wonder if I can do this?” turned into a few hours of annoyance.  I’d elaborate, but after all, this is a blog about flying, not web development.  Hopefully I will get my Wordpress plugin done soon…

OK, about that whole flying thing… this flight was essentially another airborne review session.  The big goal now is, of course, the solo flight, and while my airborne maneuvers are going pretty well, good and consistent landings still elude me.  The day started with an unexpected change in plans.  The original plan was to fly out of LZU in 391JA and do pattern work at Monroe.  But I got a call just as I was about to leave my house for Gwinnett… 391JA had a mechanical issue.  Bummer.  On the other hand, my old standby 546DC was back at PDK and available.  Only issue was that Scott was with another student out of LZU, due back just before our planned start time of 1400, but now he’d have to make the drive from LZU to PDK to meet me.  I talked with Scott when he was back on the ground, and we agreed to meet at PDK at 3.

I beat Scott to PDK, so I got the keys and went on out to preflight the airplane.  The timing worked out pretty well, as he made it out to the airplane just after I’d completed my inspection- so it was pretty much just a jump-in-and-go situation.  In short order, we were airborne with the nose pointed east to Monroe.  En route, we did a bit of maneuvering- a stint in slow flight with a few turns, a couple of power-off stalls, and some steep turns.  My altitude control on the steep turns was much improved over my last attempts, though I still need to work on maintaining a correct bank angle.

We rolled out eastbound again for Monroe, and Scott dialed up CTAF and asked for an airport advisory.  The quick answer came from a King Air pilot who was dropping crazy people skydivers out.  This isn’t exactly conducive to tooling around the pattern, so up to Gwinnett we went.  Truth be told, LZU is a nice place to fly out of, but it is a towered airport, so things are a bit more structured than Monroe.  I’m OK with this, though.

We got a nonstandard left pattern entry for the first touch&go, and I thought I actually did pretty well on that first landing.  I’ve mostly conquered that early flaring tendency, but I still have a habit of floating a bit and pulling off bouncers.  But that first one was pretty smooth.  Second time around went pretty well also, but it went downhill from there.  I followed up with a couple bouncers, and on the fifth one, I jumped the gun on the power and unintentionally did my first go-around.  Hoo boy.  I got things back under control for the final one; it wasn’t stellar, but at least there were no bounces.

Back towards PDK, I got possibly my most convoluted approach so far.  I already suspect that there’s a chapter in the ATC manual stating that all inbound aircraft must have their landing instructions changed at least once, but this day was even better.  Initially, I was told to fly a 4-mile straight-in for 20L.  I was a few minutes away from turning to the runway when I was instructed to turn south (roughly parallel to the runways) due to an inbound jet.  I thought that was going to be a brief stint, but instead I was about midfield when I got instructions to turn, cross overhead, and enter right traffic for 20R.  Just for good measure, I was instructed to extend my downwind to clear landing traffic on 20L.  Oh, and just for good measure, that parallel traffic was instructed to cross my runway while I was on final, but he got clear before I felt compelled to make a decision about going around.

Back in the office, we debriefed some more.  Seems that my flaring issues are about the only thing keeping me from going solo.  There’s also a written pre-solo knowledge test to knock out; we discussed the subject matter of the test so I could get prepared.  I’d say that I knew about 50% or so of the subject matter well; the rest I need to brush up on, and not just for the test- this is stuff I need to know to fly in general, not just to squeak past some test.

Oh, and a final note about this flight- hopefully it’ll be my last one using the flight school’s loaner headset.  It gets the job done, but gets pretty uncomfortable after about a while.  After some looking and advice from Scott, I snagged a lightly used Lightspeed 15XLc off Ebay, and I should have it in hand in a day or two.  The 15XLc is Lightspeed’s entry-level (read: cheapest) ANR headset.  I’d originally been looking at David Clarks, but seeing that I could get an ANR set for about the same price as passive DCs, I went for the Lightspeed.  I’ll probably get a better ANR set in the future, but for the time being, I need something more comfortable- and unless this set is complete junk, I can just repurpose it as a spare set for passengers once I upgrade.  Look for more details on the headset in the near future…

“The time,” of course, being that moment when I’m sitting in a running airplane with just an empty seat beside me.  A time that I suspect will be some strange combination of “most excellent” and”wrong somehow.”  “Most excellent” should be pretty self-explanatory- after all, the whole reason I’m doing this is for the privilege to fly alone.  But the thought of glancing over at an empty seat just seems incorrect somehow.  Sort of like how I felt when I first got my motorcycle… when I was out riding, I always had this sort of gut feeling that I was getting away with something.  It was like some odd species of guilt over enjoying myself so much.

But I digress… today was pretty straightforward in the air.  Scott and I briefly discussed the impending solo flight, with a substantial portion of my willpower going towards keeping from grinning like an idiot at the thought.  The plan is for me to solo at D73 in Monrow, GA, about 30 miles east of PDK.  The benefits of D73 include being an uncontrolled field, not being too busy, and having a fairly long runway. (5000′)  In keeping with this decision, our flight for today took us out to D73 for some pattern work, plus some ground reference work along the way.

Side note: PDK was hopping today.  I got the feeling there was some kind of holiday or something that had a lot of people leaving town… but really, there was a bit more activity than I’m used to seeing out there.  We were third in line for takeoff on 20R after arriving at the runup area.  In the air, we proceeded east, skirting Stone Mountain, and then began searching for a suitable ground feature for flying a rectangular course.  The pickings were sort of slim, but eventually a future subdivision was chosen, and I flew a few circuits around it.  There were a few bobbles- notably a couple of early turns from one leg to another- but the reference wasn’t exactly the best in the world either.   Side note: I found that the best way to control my turns was to pick a “corner” point on the ground and treat it as 1/4 of a turn around a point.  Speaking of turns around a point, that was the next order of the day- a nearby water tower provided an excellent reference for this.  I learned that the smaller the circle flown, the tougher it is to maintain distance, though on wider circles it was also easier to cover the water tower with the wingtip and thus lose my reference.

Departing the tower, we pointed the nose toward D73, which was pretty close by this point.  Approaching the field, Scott spoke on the radio with a C172 which was also about to enter the pattern, and we coordinated on using the same runway.  My first pattern was sort of ugly.  I seem to be having trouble correctly judging my pattern entry; if I’m remaining in the pattern, with defined upwind/crosswind/base/final legs, I do OK, but that entry needs work.  Still, I rolled out on final a bit high, but not unmanageably so.  The tough thing here for me was the lack of a visual glide slope indicator.  All the other landings I’d done had involved a VASI or PAPI to refer to, and despite my attempts to fly of my sight picture, I’d been depending heavily on the indicators.  Here, I was forced to do it the right way.  This, of course, is why there’s an instructor in that right seat; Scott gave me good continuous feedback on how I was doing slope-wise.

Back to that first landing… it was a great opportunity for me to demonstrate my favorite vice: starting the flare too early.  This landing was a blue-ribbon winner in that department, but Scott was on top of things and stopped my madness.  Better yet, once the throttle came back up, I got way behind the airplane with the right rudder, resulting in some severe veering as I tried to get things back in line.

Second time around the pattern was better- I overdid my turn to downwind, and had to work to keep from drifting towards the runway.  As such, I ended up with a pretty short base, and started my approach high again.  This time, though, I controlled my early flare tendency, and made a decent touchdown. (though I suspected that some assistance was coming from my right)  I also better anticipated getting on the rudder once the power came back in, and kept things pretty straight.

The next few times got progressively better- I got a good ground reference for my downwind, and got to flying a pretty good parallel.  I even had a pretty good greaser at one point.  Then things got interesting.  I had just hit pattern altitude on downwind and pulled the power back when a very noticeable vibration developed, seemingly from the engine.  It remained until I pulled back further power to start my descent, and Scott decreed a full-stop landing this time to check things out.  Which brings me to another issue of mine: controlling the aircraft on rollout.  My full-stop looked great until I got on the brakes, and then I performed a rather impressive slalom maneuver down the runway- the kind of thing that you hope very few people were watching.  Eesh.

On the ramp, we shut down and walked around the plane.  Nothing was visibly out of place, nothing looked strange, nothing to indicate the source of the vibration.  Hmm.  Well, the engine had run OK for the landing, so we cranked back up and did a careful runup; everything seemed OK.  So I taxied down, took off, did one more touch & go, and then we headed back west to PDK.  Along the way, that vibration made another appearance at one point when I adjusted the power; not as noticeable as the first time, but still there.  Still, the plane flew OK all the way back to PDK, where things had heated up even more while we were gone.  One tower controller in particular was spitting out instructions like some sort of mad auctioneer.  But I did make sense of our instructions, which included what seems to be a PDK standard- your first landing instructions rarely survive until you get to the airport.  This time we initially got left traffic for 20L, but then it became right traffic for 20R, plus the later addition to extend our downwind… par for the course at PDK.  That’s why I won’t do my first solo here.  Flying the pattern is enough to worry about without the complications.  On landing, I performed yet another zigzag maneuver on rollout… got to work on that.  At least I don’t look like a drunkard when I taxi any more.

All in all, I can see myself improving.  I’m flying pretty good patterns now, though I still tend to get a little funky on the entry, and I also have a tendency not to let the nose drop at the tail end of my downwind and during my turn to base.  Airspeed control on final is good, though it needs a little work on downwind and base.  Flaring is getting better, but I still don’t think I really have a “feel” for it.  Ground handling during takeoff rolls is decent, but landing rollouts are horrid.  I’m thinking that some pattern work doing full-stops is going to be in order before I’m ready to solo- everything else, I feel, just needs some refinement and repetition, but the rollouts need serious work.

Next flight is Sunday; this time we’ll be taking the Eclipse from LZU instead of 546DC.  Given that odd vibration, this seems a good plan until someone can check out the plane to make sure everything is kosher.  Here’s hoping Sunday sees me get my ground handling problems reined in.

When I originally reserved the airplane for Saturday morning, the weather looked iffy, but luckily, as the weekend drew closer, things turned out to be pretty nice.  The forecast rain kept moving back until finally it was going to be an overnight start.  This, of course, was good news for me, and I smiled at the blue skies as I drove over to PDK.  Over at Advanced Scott and I discussed the plan of the day.  We had another ground lesson to review, and then we’d go take advantage of the weather.  We’d head out to a field for some pattern work, review stalls and slow flight along the way, and throw in slips and ground reference maneuvers as well.  Sounded like a great day of learning to me.

The ground lesson went pretty quickly- we were talking about airplane systems.  Between being a car guy and having a long-term interest in aviation, I was pretty familiar with almost everything here, so it ended up basically being a review.  We then briefly discussed the “theory” behind the new maneuvers for the day’s flight: a discussion if why ground-reference maneuvers were important, how wind would affect the airplane’s track, and how to correct for it.  We also talked about forward slips, why they were useful, and what they entailed, and wrapped things up with procedures for handling an engine failure and subsequent forced landing.  Then it was time to head out to the airplane.

Scott had to get a few things out of his car, so I went on out, opened the plane, and started my preflight.  No surprises there, and we were shortly in the plane with the engine running.  At the edge of the ramp, with Scott’s prompting, I gathered my wherewithal and called ground.  In spite of my odd species of stage fright, I didn’t say anything stupid, and we headed out to 2L.  After my wandering takeoff from Thursday, I was determined to do better, and I did… though there was still an inordinate amount of bobbing and weaving after I was airborne.

In the air, we initially headed east out to Winder, but then turned northwest towards Cherokee County instead- listening to the radio, Winder sounded pretty busy.  Seems there’s a pretty popular $100 hamburger destination out there.  Anyhoo, onc we got clear of populated areas, Scott had me configure the airplane for slow flight.  I got the airspeed down to about 50 knots uneventfully, and was feeling pretty good about myself until I tried a few turns.  I overcontrolled, ended up banking more than I intended, and overshot my target heading.  Flying the airplane that slow reminds me of an ancient Plymouth Volare that my cousin “inherited” when he turned 16- seemed like whenever you turned the steering wheel, there would be about a one-second delay before the car actually turned.  In either case, it’s important not to mistake that bit of delay for complete unresponsiveness.

From slow flight, we went right into a few power-off stalls.  This time, the situation was complicated a bit by adding a turn during the stall.  Truth be told, this didn’t really make the maneuver much more difficult- you just level the wings as you nose over for the recovery.  Of course, I say that, but the first one I did, I got distracted and only put the throttle in about halfway…

A bit later I had my first experience with a simulated engine failure.  This wasn’t a surprise this time; I knew we were going to run through the procedures during this flight.  I selected a decent-looking landing spot, pitched for best glide speed, and trimmed the airplane, or so I thought.  Out came the checklist, and as I started through the items, Scott made a casual remark about my airspeed.  Sure enough, I’d crept about 10 knots over glide speed while the checklist was distracting me.  After retrimming, I finished simulating an engine restart, and we recovered at a safe altitude.  Doing this was a pretty good confidence builder; I saw how well the airplane glided, and understood that I’d have time to take corrective steps before resorting to an off-airport landing.  Of course, I also had the benefit of knowing that it wasn’t for real…

Next up were forward slips.  Scott demonstrated one first, and it was a good thing- if I hadn’t watched him do one, I would have really underdone it my first time.  After hours of learning to fly the plane with light control pressure and small adjustments, it seems mildly obscene to fly the plane with full right rudder.  Before the demo, I think I’d had the picture of just gently cross-controlling and getting a slightly better descent rate.  I wasn’t expecting to find myself resting against the cockpit wall while watching the VSI go past -1500 fpm!  Still, I think I acquitted myself well, picking a reference point on the ground and maintaining a more-or-less straight track in the slip.

We had hoped to try flying  rectangular track before going to 47A, but doing so requires some kind of rectangular reference on the ground, and the area we were in seemed completely devoid of any straight roads.  After a bit of searching, we gave up and headed towards 47A.  Along the way, there was some sort of traffic circle-looking thing on the ground, maybe a subdivision under construction or some such.  Anyway, Scott thought it would make a good reference for turns around a point if I was up for it… which I was.  This wasn’t too bad, though as usual, I had to work on dividing my attention to remain safe.  My first couple times around, I kept tightening my turn until it became necessary to back off and start again.  After that, I maintained my distance fairly well- but I also lost about 150′ of altitude while I was concentrating on my ground reference.  Lots to think about…

Over at 47A, I got my first try at flying a left traffic pattern.  This was good for my visibility, but not so good for Scott’s… and the first time around was pretty ugly.  I established a good distance from the runway on my downwind, but then kept angling into the runway.  By the time I tuned base, it was evident we were ridiculously high.  Scott took over and put the plane into a slip before electing to go around.  The next few times were incrementally better, but still not great- one attempt saw us go around again.  I did, however, do at least passably on the third and final landing.

Back towards PDK, I continued to work on using the radio, but when I initially contacted the tower, I was thrown off a bit; rather than asking me to report five miles out, he asked to report abeam something-or-other.  I couldn’t make sense of what he said, but Scott understood.  I was to report abeam the King and Queen, a pair of prominent buildings in Sandy Springs.  Since I’m fairly new to Atlanta, landmark references like this aren’t intuitive to me at all.  But after clearing the confusion, I was good to go.  I contacted the tower again, got clearance to land on 2L, and redeemed myself from my 47A performance by flying a good pattern and approach.  Still got to work on not flaring too soon, though.

All in all, it was a packed flight; lots of new things, some new scenery, and a reminder that despite doing great in the pattern at LZU before, I still had plenty to learn.

…or “All about my first foray into the world of aviation medical exams.”

I knew going into this that I was going to need a third class medical before I’d be able to solo.  I actually ended up sort of putting it off until after I got started, but once my logbook approached a Bob Hoover-like 5 hours, it was definitely time to get the medical out of the way.  Accordingly, I visited the FAA’s AME Locator and found an examiner just a couple of blocks away from work, and earlier this week, called for an appointment.  D-Day, H-Hour was to be 10:15 AM on the 20th.

In addition to getting my information and setting the appointment, the lady also directed me to the FAA’s site so I could fill out Form 8500-8 in advance.  This form turned out to be a medical history of sorts.  I initially thought I’d get the thing done during my lunch break at work, until I got to a section where I was supposed to list all my visits to medical professionals in the past three years.  Uh-oh.  You see, about 2.5 years ago, I got into a motorcycle accident.  My ER visit that day was followed by visits to multiple specialists and a fair amount of physical therapy.  I wasn’t even sure I could remember all the places I went, but at home that night, I worked up what I thought was a fair list and finished the application.  The website instructed me to write down my confirmation number and take it with me to my appointment.

Fast-forward a few days, and I found myself entering a doctor’s office for the first time in a few years. (Bad me!  No cookie!)  Upon introducing myself to the receptionist, I was given a form to fill out.  As I began, I suddenly realized it was the same thing I had done online a few nights before.

“You know, I already did this form online… do I still have to fill this one out as well?”

“Unless you brought that with you, yes.”

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to bring an electronic form with me, but oh well.  At least my memory of all those doctors’ visits was fresh.  It only took me a few minutes to finish the form, and when I returned it to the receptionist, she presented me- in a rather casual fashion- with some sort of bag.  No explanation was offered with said bag, but once I looked inside and saw the familiar shape of a urine sample container, I got the drift.  After a few minutes with which we need not deal here, I returned with my cup figuratively running over, positioned securely inside the bag.  This was where the morning got a bit entertaining.

As I entered the office, I approached the receptionist’s window again and placed my precious cargo upon the counter.  The reaction to this was priceless.  It was as if that collection jar emitted some sort of powerful repulsion field; as it came into view of the receptionist and settled on the counter, she slid away briskly in her office chair as if I was brandishing a deadly weapon.

“I don’t want it!!!!!!!”

Well jeez, neither do I… but there was to be no discussion on the subject, and soon I found myself relaxing on a waiting-room couch, still holding my sample in one hand.  Seemed a bit odd, but whatever.  Luckily, it was only a minute or two before a nurse retrieved me and relieved me of my cargo.

Back in the exam area, the first order of business was a trip to the scale (when did I get that heavy?), followed by a battery of vision tests.  Nothing really special here, just visual acuity, stereo vision, color vision, etc.  I was then led into an exam room, where I waited for a bit before having my pulse and blood pressure checked.  This was followed by some more waiting, until the doctor himself came in.  He briefly reviewed my history, got clarification on a few things, and then had me sit on the famous table with the paper on it.

What followed was a pretty basic medical checkup; he looked in my mouth and ears, listened to my lungs and heart, and did a few simple strength tests, checking that I had no weakness in a few specific movements. (such as pressing on a pedal)  He looked at the back of my eyes, palpated my abdomen, felt for swollen glands, and then did something a bit sneaky.  As he walked across the room to get something from the cabinet, he asked in a low voice, “Any hearing problems?”  Nope.  That was actually a bit of a self-test, sort of like if you call someone on the radio and ask if they can hear you.  With that, I was done… back in the waiting room, I sat for a few minutes while my certificate was made out, and before long, I was on my way back to work.

All in all, it was pretty anticlimactic.  I wasn’t expecting anything particularly in-depth, mind you, but seeing as how I hadn’t had a checkup in a few years, and how I’ve gotten pretty out of shape recently, there was a certain unknown element.  But it all turned out great, and only took about an hour and a half out of my work day- and now I just need a signature (well, and some improved skills) to go solo!

OK, the truth is that those words were not actually spoken during today’s flight, but it sure makes for a colorful title, and does sort of allude to one of today’s experiences.

This morning dawned with iffy weather.  My first lesson of the day involved the limitations of automatic weather.  Just before leaving the house the PDK METAR claimed that the skies were clear.  Temperature/dewpoint spread was pretty tight, which was a bit of negative information, but I put my trust in that clear sky claim.  The moment I walked out my door, I realized that while it might have been clear directly above the PDK weather station, it was most definitely not clear over my house.  In fact, there was a solid overcast at what might have been 100′ AGL.  As I drove towards PDK, though, I could see the edge of that particular patch of clouds, and by the time I go to PDK the skies were mostly clear above.

Once we determined that the weather would be OK for flying, it was time to go.  The primary subjects were to be slow flight and stalls.  We briefly discussed the maneuvers in the office so I would know what to expect, and then headed out to the plane.  Preflight, startup, taxi, runup, time for takeoff.

After Sunday’s successful pattern work, I must admit that I was feeling pretty confident about my flying.  I’d flown one takeoff along with multiple touch & gos, and felt that I had a pretty good handle on that portion of the program.  I suppose it was about time I got reminded that I’m still barely a five-hour pilot.  I taxied onto the runway, got lined up, throttle up full, and I proceeded to make a fairly impressive swerve to the left.  Not quite enough right rudder there, Forrest.  After rotation, whatever smoothness I thought I had previously seemed gone.  In my efforts to keep the plane on runway heading, I rocked back and forth a few times before finally getting settled down with the wings level.  After that bit of a rocky start, though, I got myself back under control and headed for the practice area.  Along the way, I got my first taste of flying above the clouds.  I’d done this before in commercial or other aircraft, but it’s a different experience when you’re not just a passenger.  Somehow that made the sight far more lovely.

Out over the lake, it was slow flight time.  For the most part, this was a straightforward task; come back with the power, let the airspeed decay, come in with flaps as appropriate, and as airspeed gets low enough, the power has to come back up to maintain level flight.  The result is the little Diamond mushing along at just over 40 knots, with the nose quite high indeed.  Forward visibility was essentially nil.  At these speeds, the controls take on a vastly different feel- in normal flight, just a bit of control pressure gets you a pretty instantaneous response.  Down at 40 knots, it’s sort of like a car from the 80s with that ridiculously overboosted power steering.  You feel more as if you’re giving the airplane suggestions instead of commands.  That’s not to say it’s uncontrollable; the responsiveness is just down the drain.  I performed a few turns in this configuration, getting used to the new need to really anticipate my rollouts.

Immediately after that, it was time for my first power-off stall.  Scott demonstrated one for me before turning the airplane back over to me.  The procedure here is pretty straightforward- essentially the idea is to get the plane in slow flight again, but pull out the power and attempt to maintain altitude until the stall horn sounds.  Once that happens, recovery involves dropping the nose below the horizon, coming full up on the power, and bring the flaps up a notch.  Done right, there’s almost no altitude loss.  This is a vital part of the maneuver- if one were to get into a stall situation close to the ground, minimal altitude loss is obviously an important consideration.

Next up: power-on stalls.  The idea here is to simulate a takeoff situation where the airplane is trying to climb too fast.  As such, entry involves slowing to approximately rotation speed with flaps set to takeoff, applying full throttle, selecting a too-high pitch attitude, and holding it until that pesky horn goes off again.  This brings us to the inspiration for the title of this post.  You see, there was a bit of a misunderstanding here- I was under the impression that I needed to continue bringing the nose up until the stall, as opposed to simply picking an unsustainable attitude and holding it.  I thought I was doing great… power up, bring the nose up, up, up, up… man, that’s pretty high… and then a voice spoke in my ear and said, “My airplane… let me demonstrate one for you here.”  I guess it makes sense that hammerhead turns won’t be covered until maybe the fourth or fifth lesson… 

After a few (correctly executed) power-on stalls, we wrapped up with some steep turn practice.  Here again was a maneuver that I had done fairly well on before, and found myself struggling with a bit today.  On my first few, I was way too slow getting back pressure on the stick entering the turn.  As a result, I started losing altitude in the turn.  I recognized this and moved to correct, which led to gaining altitude in the turn, which I then corrected for and started losing altitude again… you get the idea.  The resulting flight path probably looked quite a bit like the perimeter of a Pringle.  The next few were improved, but it was clear that I needed more practice- which shouldn’t be too surprising, given my miniscule flight time.  Back to PDK, I flew the pattern and got some much-needed experience at flaring waaaaay too early.

All in all, I’m finding the experience more rewarding as time goes on.  I was confident going into this that I’d do better than most students, but I was also mindful of my limitations.  Simulators are lots of fun, but they only teach so much, and while my first couple of flights seemed almost easy, I’m actually glad to be at a point where I’m feeling challenged.  I don’t think it would feel right any other way.

Well, this afternoon, I faced what I figured was going to be challenge- landing the aircraft, along with flying around in the pattern.  I was right about the challenge part; it took a lot of concentration on my part, but I came out unscathed.

Actually, there was another challenge before the landing part- getting out to the airport in Gwinett County.  Since 546DC was down with a flat tire, Scott and I squeezed in an hour of pattern work out at LZU.  Normally I fly out of PDK, which is just five miles or so from home, whereas LZU is nearly 25 miles- plus I’ve never been out there before.  I made the mistake of trusting my phone’s GPS navigation, which resulted in me barely making the field before 5, instead of being fifteen minutes early as I intended.  Oh well- the previous instructor and student were just getting back anyway, so I didn’t lose any time.

Out at the plane, we did an abbreviated preflight so we could get in the air.  This was going to be my first time performing the takeoff roll without assistance; I was a bit nervous, but confident.  Got us on centerline, throttle up, put in right rudder… more right rudder… more right rudder; oh, it’s time to rotate.  This was also my first time remaining in the pattern after takeoff; it turned out to be easier than I thought, and I got into a routine pretty quickly.  At 500′ AGL, bring up the flaps and turn crosswind.  Approaching pattern altitude, turn downwind, pull back throttle, level off at 2000′.  Watch out the right window; abeam the touchdown point, throttle comes back, flaps to takeoff, start the descent.  Bit further, turn base, continue descent; turn final flaps to landing, pick a aiming point, pitch for 65 knots, throttle to stay on slope.  Over the numbers, power comes out, flare, touchdown, flaps to takeoff, power up, back in the air.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

Now, I’d done all this a few hundred times in FSX, so I knew the mechanics, but the fun part was taking those mechanics and turning them into actual flying.  I made the transition easily, but at a cost: flying the pattern took nearly all of my concentration.  I was glad Scott was taking care of the radio calls and watching for traffic, because if I’d had to do those things, I’m certain I would have become task-saturated in a big hurry.  As it was, I didn’t even have the presence of mind to keep the plane trimmed until about my third time around.

By the time it was getting dark and we made a full-stop, I was feeling somewhat mentally exhausted.  On the one hand, I would have loved to fly some more, but on the other hand, I was glad to get on the ground and kind of absorb the experience.  Scott was impressed with my flying; I was, too, but as I mentioned, I was well aware that I’d need a lot more practice before I’m safe to do this alone.  Regardless, I had a blast, and I’m glad I made the decision to go to LZU to fly today.

Originally, I was scheduled to go fly this afternoon at 1, with the promise of a bit more basic maneuvering, and the real fun… landing practice.  Unfortunately, a bit of a kink developed.  I was awakened this morning my my buzzing phone.  You know how sometimes, when you wake up, you’re in that really stupid state?  That was me.  I had understanding that the phone was ringing, and that Scott’s name was on it, but somehow I couldn’t make the necessary mental connection to actually answer the thing.  But once I came to my senses, I gave Scott a call back.

Enter the bad news.  546DC was stuck in Dahlonega, GA, with a flat tire.  Since that’s the only plane Advanced has at PDK, that meant the previous plans were kaput.  But Scott made me an offer that was hard to refuse- some flight time in his Vans RV-7A.  After hesitating a bit, I took him up on the offer.  A quick shower and a short drive later, and I was out at PDK.  Scott wanted to fly up to Dahlonega to check out 546DC.  Fine with me!

As you might expect, the RV is quite different from the DA20; lighter, more powerful engine, short stubby wings… definitely lots more performance.  My first learning experience of the day was Scott demonstrating the necessity of right rudder just after takeoff.  As we were climbing through a few hundred feet, it went something like this: “Now, as I mentioned, you need that right rudder to keep the plane straight or else this “-[airplane suddenly yaws about 20 degrees left]-” will happen.” That was a pretty convincing demonstration.

Then Scott gave the plane to me, and I immediately started overcontrolling like crazy.  The RV takes a lot less control pressure than the Diamond, and I was all over the sky for a few minutes before I got the hang of it.  Scott took a few minutes to demonstrate the RV’s maneuverability, which was a drastic change from my gradual banks and pulls.  The RV rolls fast and feels great.  We also did a couple of steep turns- my first was pretty ugly, but on the second, I maintained altitude pretty well.

Dahlonega is stuck right in the foot of the north GA mountains, and a short-field landing is necessary; there’s a ridge on approach that’s a bit unnerving.  In fact, as we were on final, there were ridges above us on the right and left.  We took a quick look at 546DC, topped off the RV (gas is about $2 more at PDK), and then I got a short-field takeoff demo, which demonstrated that the RV climbs… well, fast doesn’t quite seem to cover it.  On the way back, I got a bit of experience using the PDK VOR for navigation; I’d flown off VORs before in FSX, and found the real thing to be easier, if anything.

Back at PDK, there was a glimmer of hope for the day:  the DA20 at Advanced’s LZU location was reserved up to 5, which would allow us to get in an hour or so of pattern work if I so desired.  Only downside is that I’d have to make the 30-minute drive to LZU.  I decided it was worth it.  Something about the idea of practicing landings makes me feel like  real pilot, and I’m eager to give it a whirl.  So I’ll relax a bit at home, and then go fly some more.  Hopefully I can get in some time this week or next weekend as well.

Here I am getting behind again… went flying Friday morning, and yet here it is Sunday afternoon and I still haven’t yet written about it.  Yes, the procrastination is strong with this one.  Better get my butt in gear.

Anyhoo, after Wednesday’s weather bust, Friday morning was about as good as it could get; no clouds, great visibility, winds calm… can’t ask for much more than that.  Showed up at PDK a few minutes before 7:30, and waited for Scott to show up.  A quick check of the weather and TFRs, and it was time to fly.

After taxiing to the end of the ramp it was time to call ground.  Scott gave me the usual rundown of radio communications (who I am, where I am, what I want to do) and asked if I wanted to call ground.  Well, I did, but this odd feeling of stage fright came over me, so I demurred and let him do the talking.  This would become a recurring theme as the day went on.

This time, I mostly flew the takeoff, though Scott was doing the rudder work to keep the plane straight.  As a sort of side effect of being a veteran simulator pilot, I’m not used to even thinking in terms of rudder- I can handle the stick and throttle OK, but I have to make myself use those funny pedals on the floor in flight.  Just another thing to overcome.

Approaching the practice area, we did our first exercise of the day.  Scott told me he’d work the throttle, and he wanted me to use the stick to keep the plane level no matter what he did.  I was quite stunned at the amount of back pressure it took to keep the nose up when he went to idle, but mostly I did OK.  Over the practice area, we did a few clearing turns, and then I spent some time working on gentle level turns.  I was still having trouble with indvertantly climbing the airplane… got to work on that.

Next came the real fun- my first attempt at a steep turn.   I think I acquitted myself pretty well after a couple tries, though I had a tendency to decrease my bank angle as the turn continued, which resulted in yet another inadvertant climb.  I’m still getting a feel for the control pressures I need, but hey… it is my first real lesson.  I suppose I should give myself a bit of a break.  After a few more steep turns and a little slow flight, we tuned back to PDK… I had to go to work still, and Scott had to get out to LZU to work with another student.

Remember my radio stage fright?  Yep, that came back.  As we approached the PDK airspace, Scott asked me to call the tower.  Uhhhh… OK, I know what to say… come on, it’s not that hard… uhhh…  Finally Scott took mercy on me and made the initial call.  Tower told us to call him back five miles out.  As we approached that point, Scott again prompted me to make the call.  I screwed up my courage and, to my surprise, actually sounded vaguely like I knew what I was doing.

“Peachtree Tower, 546DC is five miles out.”

“546DC, fly right downwind, cleared to land runway 2R.”

“546DC, right downwind, cleared to land 2R.”

Once I got past that first call, the readback just came out of its own accord.  Guess I just had to get over that hump.

So I flew the pattern, with Scott prompting me as we went on.  Turning final, we were a bit high, so the throttle went to idle while I kept us lined up.  Over the numbers, Scott took over and flared for a nice touchdown.  Clear of the runway, I taxied back to the ramp (doing much better than before) and then we were done for the day.  Before I left for work, Scott gave me what I considered to be quite a compliment: “You fly better than some licensed pilots I know.”  I’m not sure if that says good things about me or bad things about some pilots Scott knows, but I was glad to hear it.

I really need to get off my butt and get my medical taken care of… based on Scott’s feedback and my level of confidence, I feel I might be ready to solo pretty quickly, and I need to be ready for that.