Airman Eric's Pilot Blog & Journal

11/11/2009 - "My brother is a great pilot."

2009-11-12T07:08:00.118-06:00

When I was training for my license this summer, my sister Jaime had voiced a passing interest in taking a trip to Bloomington/Normal (to visit her old college campus at Illinois State) once I finally earned my ticket. And just last week, within hours of earning my certificate, I was excitedly telling Jaime all about the experiences of the day. It didn't take long... suddenly, I was making plans to transport my first passenger as pilot-in-command.

We will take advantage of our mutual day off on Veteran's Day and make a short hop to Bloomington. We'll have lunch at Jaime's favorite college restaurant, visit the campus bookstore, and explore ISU's campus. Jaime will get a walk down memory lane, and I will enjoy some cross country pilot-in-command time as well as some quality time with my sis.

Of course, I don't know how we will get around the city. By bus? By taxi? Either option could prove to be very expensive, and the airplane isn't cheap to begin with!

I look up Bloomington's Central Illinois Airport (KBMI) in the Airport Facility Directory. I note that there are two runways: 2/20 and 11/29. I also identify the FBO on the field, Image Air (marked in this airport diagram by a star at the top of the page), and I find their website (http://www.imageair.com). I begin reading comments that other pilots have left about the service at the FBO, and repeatedly see a phrase in the comments that pleases me very much:

Courtesy car.

Turns out that Image Air offers a free courtesy car to GA pilots who fly into KBMI. I call the FBO, and they assure me that they will make a car available. Transportation problem solved!

I wake up before 7:00 a.m., and set out to file VFR flightplans for the trip to KBMI as well as the return trip to KMDW. I log on to http://www.duats.com, and fill out the flightplan form. I will need to contact Kankakee Flight Service once I am clear from Midway's airspace to activate the flightplan. If I fail to arrive at KBMI within 30 minutes of my expected arrival time, air traffic controllers will start making phone calls to determine my whereabouts, and if they cannot verify that I landed somewhere, they will start rescue operations. Unlike IFR aircraft, I am not required to file a flightplan, but when I do so, it ensures that if there is any emergency and I am unable to declare it, my absence won't go unnoticed. Of course, I MUST remember to deactivate my flightplan once I have landed, because if I forget to do so, my aircraft might be listed as missing, resulting in a very costly rescue operation that I will be financially responsible for!

On a side note, the flight plan permits me to enter whatever I want into a remarks section... I decide to write, "First flight with my sister!"

Briefing uneventful, left the house at 8:30 a.m., planning for a 9:00 departure. Weather is stone cold perfect: Clear, sunny, a high in the mid 50's, a light wind from the east. As we drive down Garfield Boulevard on the way to the airport, I have the window open, enjoying the crisp fall air laden with the light scent of freshly fallen leaves. Anticipation!

We arrive at KMDW, enter through the south gate, park outside Atlantic FBO. Jaime is very impressed by the Atlantic lobby... the clean tile floor, the classy furniture, the HDTV, the kitchen decorated with glass and stainless steel, the comfy pilot's lounge... I think she was expecting maybe a hanger with a few planes in it, with a few pilots huddling around a trash can, chain-smoking cigarettes and burning their old VFR sectionals for warmth. We didn't see any of that today... it's not December yet. ;)

A quick check of the updated weather, a stop at the restroom and coffee machine, and we begin the short walk to N737ME. When we arrive at the plane, I began my preflight walkaround, and Jaime climbs into the passenger seat. She snaps this shot as I untie the security rope from the right wing. Plenty of fuel, and the plane looks great.

I give Jaime a detailed passenger briefing, making sure that her seatbelt is securely fastened, showing her how to latch and lock her passenger door, and I make sure that she will keep her arms and legs clear of the control wheel. I explain that her primary job on the flight is to continuously look around for other aircraft. I explain that when I'm talking to air traffic control, we're going to maintain a sterile cockpit; in other words, if I'm talking to controllers on the radio, Jaime and I won't talk to each other unless there is something critically important to our safety, for example, a converging aircraft. I challenge Jaime to a game: we will both look for aircraft, and whoever spots a plane should point it out to the other. I specifically ask my passengers to watch out for aircraft over their right shoulder, because my passenger has a better view of the area to the right rear of the aircraft than I do. A word to VFR pilots: Put your passengers to work! Ask them to help you look for aircraft... it's fun for them, and increases safety for both of you.

I call for clearance: VFR departure to the south. I taxi to the edge of the tower apron, perform runup; the engine is running well. I call for taxi: F, K to 4L, hold short 4R. As we roll on K, I can see a LearJet taxiing on Y that will eventually converge with us. The ground controller instructs me to give way to the LearJet, which I was planning to do anyway, so I slow down the taxi and let the LearJet pass in front of me. After the jet rolls by, we are told to cross 4R and continue to 4L. I pull up to the hold short line, perform a final flow check to ensure that the plane is configured for takeoff, and call up Tower, ready to go.

Tower asks us to position and hold 4L as a 737 departs 4R. I warn Jaime that we're going to do a short field takeoff to ensure that we will remain above the wake turbulence generated by the departing jet. Credit goes to Jaime for this cell phone video of our takeoff; you can see the 737 rolling on 4R just before we take off and turn to the south to begin our journey. And for some strange reason, the spinning propeller is interpreted by Jaime's phone as a strange, cycling horizontal black shape. Kinda looks like a Nike Swoosh, doesn't it?

Within a few minutes of takeoff, Jaime points out the left window, and I think that she's pointing out an aircraft. I'm scanning, squinting, staring out the window for this plane, but I don't see anything. Jaime taps me, and shakes her head 'no'. I'm so confused! I'm still in Midway's airspace, so I'm still talking to the Midway Tower controller, and Jaime is definitely respecting my instructions to maintain a sterile cockpit; she says nothing. Jaime gestures with her hands to indicate, "It was nothing, Eric! Don't worry!" So I press on.

Before long, we're clear of Midway's airspace, free to change frequency from the Tower controller, turning to a heading of 215, and climbing up to 4,500 for the trip to BMI. Finally, Jaime tells me what she was pointing at.

"I was pointing at a baseball diamond! I thought it was neat to see a baseball diamond from the air, so I pointed at it, but you're like, where's the plane where's the plane where's the plane?!? I guess I won't point out touristy things!"

Here I realized that I don't really spend time looking at the scenery anymore! Sure, if I have a spare second, I'll take note of a beautiful sunset or an impressive lake... but when I'm flying, my mind is thoroughly dedicated to seeing and avoiding obstacles and other aircraft. During my first lesson, I remember being overwhelmed by the sights, and working hard to take it all in, but now, the awesome spectacle of the world seen from the air has lost a little bit of its luster. I have no regrets... I'm glad that I have been trained to focus on what the plane is doing rather than the majesty of the scenery. I'm a pilot, not a passenger. I never stop flying the plane.

Levelling out at 4,500, leaning the mixture to optimize fuel consumption. I contact Kankakee Flight Service to activate the flight plan.

"Kankakee Radio, Cessna 737ME transmitting on 122.1, receiving on 114.2."

"Cessna 737ME, Kankakee Radio, go ahead."

"Cessna 737ME would like to activate VFR flight plan, departure time from Midway was 9:40 local."

"Cessna 737ME, your flight plan is activated, have a nice flight to Bloomington."

Our first checkpoint turns out to be difficult for me to see. I've chosen a crooked country road that intersects with a minor river, and I've learned from experience that rivers are very difficult to spot from the air. Jaime and I talk about this checkpoint for several minutes, and just as I am ready to give up on it and move to the next one, Jaime points straight down.

"Is this the road?" she asks.

I look out of the right window where Jaime is pointing, and instantly, I realize that she is correct.

"Yes! You found it!" I congratulate my sister.

We continue toward Bloomington. I am tracking the BMI VOR on the 220 inbound radial, and I explain to Jaime that as long as the VOR needle remains centered, we are on course. Passing a few more checkpoints, precisely on schedule... Before long, the town of Pontiac is off our right wing, and I can make out KPNT airport to the north of the town. Of course, I've been to KPNT before... on my nighttime cross-country! We're not landing there today, though... pressing on to Bloomington.

And at last, the town of Lexington is visible ahead. This is my point to begin descending to KBMI. I pull on the carburetor heat, enrich the mixture to full, and start the descent to 2,800. KBMI is a Delta that tops out at 3,400, and I will need to contact Bloomington Tower before entering their airspace. Tuning the radio to 124.6, and tuning the second radio to the ground control frequency of 121.65. Hey... the ground control frequency is the same at KBMI as it is at Midway!

"The airport should be straight ahead. Help me look for it."

Jaime and I scan the area ahead, and within 5 minutes of descending to 2,800, I can see the faint outline of Runway 2/20. We're about 10 miles away... it's time to call.

"Bloomington Tower, N737ME is a Cessna 172, 10 miles to the north, landing with November."

"N737ME, Bloomington Tower, report 3 miles north of the field on a left base for Runway 11."

"We'll enter on a left base for Runway 11 and call 3 north of the field, N737ME."

Jaime snaps a shot of the city of Bloomington to the west. That's ISU's campus in the distance. Kudos to Jaime for her camera work... she is taking snapshots with her camera and videos with my camera at the same time! We're down to 1,800 now, and I'm still aiming straight at the field. Soon, I'm able to make out Runway 11/29, so I turn slightly to the right, establishing myself on a long left base.

Credit goes to Jaime for taking this video of the landing... She used my 6MP digital camera, so the picture quality is a little better.

"N737ME is left base Runway 11."

"N737ME, don't have you in sight yet, state your position."

"N737 is 2 miles north of the field on a long left base Runway 11."

"N737ME, have you now, Runway 11, wind 090 at 5, cleared to land."

As I turn final, I realize why the tower controller was surprised about my position. As you can see in the video, I was really far away from the runway!

Tom's voice echoes in my mind, "Why are you flying a jumbo jet pattern!?! Always stay close enough to glide to the runway if your engine fails!"

Sorry, Tom.

However, I am proud to say that by applying a little throttle, I close in on the runway, pull the power and drop full flaps, touching down smoothy, and exiting left at D, the first available taxiway.

"Bloomington Ground, N737ME, taxi to Image Air."

"N737ME, Bloomington Ground, taxi to Image Air via A."

"To Image Air via A, N737ME."

We pull up to the FBO, and an aircraft attendant ushers me to a parking space. I shut down the engine, pop open the door, ask him to top off the tanks. Jaime and I gather up our things and head to the FBO.

"Hi. 737ME is here, and we have a courtesy car on hold," I say.

"No problem, sir." Grin.

I fill out an aircraft parking form with my name, phone number, and expected return time. They don't ask me for a driver's license, or a credit card. This is what I love about aviation: the entire aviation community is based on the honor system. I am a private pilot, which means not only am I offered a free rental car without so much as a verification of my driver's license, but I am trusted to bring the car back based on my promise to do so. Okay, granted... they DO have my plane, which is a pretty big piece of collateral, but still, it is really flattering to be trusted with a car based on nothing more than my promise that I will return it. We head out to the car, a white Chevy Cavalier, nice and clean.

I call Flight Service on my cell phone to close my VFR flightplan.

"So, you've landed safely in Bloomington?" asks the briefer.

"Yes, I have," I respond.

"Did your sister enjoy the flight?"

I laugh. When you put a remark in a flight plan, they pay attention. ;)

"Yes, she did!"

"Okay, your flightplan is closed. Enjoy your time in Bloomington." And with that, we set out on our Bloomington/Normal adventure.

We are both hungry, so we drive west to Veteran's Parkway, north to Vernon Drive, and west to Avanti's, at 407 S. Main St. This was Jaime's favorite college restaurant, so she is really excited. I commend the restaurant on their fresh Italian bread; it is warm, crispy on the outside, soft and tender in the middle. I order ravioli, Jaime orders tortellini, both of us order meat sauce with meatballs. We share our pasta, sip root beer, and enjoy some brother/sister time. We order a Gondola to go (an 18" sandwich on their Italian bread with salami and other cold cuts). A wonderful lunch.

Walking down Main Street, and Jaime is amazed to see her old dormitories, Walker and Dunn-Barton, have been completely demolished, and the university is building a new "Student Fitness Center/Kinesiology/Recreation Center" in their place. Apparently, "Kinesiology" is ISU's fancy word for "Gym Class". Stopping off at the Alamo, the campus bookstore, and I buy Jaime a belated birthday present: a pair of comfy ISU pajama pants. Continuing our walk around the campus.

Before we left on this trip, Jaime advised me that ISU has a Bowling and Billards Hall on campus, and of course, I just HAD to stop there! We bowl two games, laughing, having a great time. We wanted to play a game of air hockey, but sadly, we had no quarters!

Walking around campus for another half hour, enjoying the sunny weather. It's getting late. We walk back to the car, drive up to the Redbird Arena, look around for a little bit. We stop off at Dairy Queen for a couple Blizzards, and as the sun dips in the sky, we head back to the airport, planning to depart at 4 p.m.

The FBO has moved our plane to the front of the parking area to ensure an easy exit. I return the courtesy car, and settle up for the fuel: $60 for 14 gallons of gas. What a great FBO... I would definitely return! I double check the weather on http://aviationweather.gov, and it still looks great. I call up the briefer, and verify that no mysterious TFRs have popped up over Chicago... Nope! We're ready to go!

On my way out the door, it occurs to me that the sun might be on its way down by the time we get close to MDW at 5:00. I ask the lady behind the desk if she has "any word on the time of sunset," and she is perplexed.

Jaime laughs at me. "The word on the sunset?" she smiles, "It's going DOWN!"

I think you probably realize that Jaime learned how to be a wiseass by watching me. ;)

Smooth taxi and takeoff from BMI, calling up Kankakee Radio to activate my VFR flightplan, tuning the 040 BMI outbound radial, and heading home.

Within 20 minutes, I've reached my first two checkpoints, and the headwind is a little stronger than was forecast this morning. The sun is setting steadily. It's beautiful, but I definitely begin to feel that I'll be doing some night flight before this trip is over, and I'm a little nervous!

Forty minutes later, I can make out the white lights of the John Hancock and Sears Tower (and no, it is NOT called the Willis Tower, and never will be) on the horizon, and I am certain that I am close to Midway, but I'm a little worried about busting the Midway Class C. It got dark really fast, and I'm a little disoriented. The last thing I want to do is violate an airspace regulation!

Descending to 1,900, and scanning the highways below. I'm certain I can see I-80, but I'm having a little trouble spotting I-57, and I'm counting on spotting I-57 because the I-80/I-57 interchange is directly south of Midway, and I'm used to flying north from this interchange to enter Midway's airspace.

I decide to turn away from the city and descend to the south until I can get my bearings. I remember that Kevin said if I get lost on the way to Midway, I can track the EON 005 degree outbound radial, and it will lead me right into Midway's airspace. I tune my NAV radio, set it accordingly, and the needle immediately centers.

Wow... according to the NAV radio, I'm in the right spot, after all!

I turn the airplane back to the north and instantly identify the I-80/I-57 interchange, with Cicero Avenue continuing to the north.

I know exactly where I am.

I suddenly realize that I had nothing to worry about. I was precisely on course, and if I had continued to descend to 1,900 at my previous heading, I would have spotted the I-57/I-80 interchange within minutes, and continued to Midway. I also realize that instead of turning away from the city, I could have tracked the CGT 090 radial inbound, then intercepted the EON 005 outbound radial, and followed that to Midway. I'm splitting hairs, here. The fact of the matter is that I was unsure of my exact position, and rather than risk busting the Midway Class C, I decided to err on the side of caution until the proper course of action became clear. I was sloppy, but safe. ;)

I contact Midway Tower, enter the Charlie from the south, fly over the top of the airport to make a left downwind for 4L. Smooth landing, a little left of the centerline, but I slow down in time to exit at F, and with Tower's blessing, cross 4R and continue unabated to the tower apron.

I shut down, call up Flight Service to close the flightplan, and secure the aircraft. Jaime reminds me to get my emergency radio from the cockpit, and I'm glad she did, or I might have left my radio in the plane a third time! It's been a wonderful day, but the best part didn't come until we got home and I opened my Facebook page.

My sister had updated her Facebook Status to read, "My brother is a great pilot." I am overjoyed.

2.8 hours of cross country time on the books for a total of 8.1... 41.9 hours to go to satisfy my cross-country requirement for the instrument rating! I've come a long way, but I still have a long way to go!

- Airman Eric

08/22/2009 - "I'm calling you from sunny Rantoul."

2009-08-22T14:32:00.042-05:00

After more than 50 hours of practicing, it's time. Today, I embark on my first solo cross-country to Rantoul.

Solo student flights are not permtted out of Midway, so I am required to fly from Midway to Lansing with Tom, then I will drop him off and fly the 65 nautical mile round trip to Rantoul (TIP) by myself. On the way to Lansing, Tom offered a few last pointers... specifically reminding me how to deal with unexpected failures.

"If you lose the alternator, you will lose the turn coordinator, fuel gauges and radios, but the engine will continue to run. Use your backup radio as needed and land at the nearest field. If you lose the vacuum pump, you will lose the attitude indicator and heading indicator, but you will still have the airspeed and altitude indicators, so you won't have any trouble maintaining your airspeed and altitude to find the nearest airport and land. And, if you lose the engine, remember the "A, B, C's"... Airspeed, Best Field, and Checklist. Achieve the best glide airspeed of 65 knots, look for the best field to land in, and once you have a landing site in mind, aim for it and run through the engine failure checklist to try to restart the engine. You'll still have flaps and radios, so contact the emergency frequency on 121.5 and report the engine failure, try to land with full flaps, as much into the wind as possible, and avoid fields with nearby power lines or crops any taller than soybeans. You're ready to go, Eric. Have fun!"

Made a left base for Runway 9, landed perfectly, taxied to the parking area and dropped Tom off. Lansing was actually very busy! As I took off from Runway 9, there was a helicopter in the area coming in for a landing on Runway 36, and other Cessna inbound for Runway 9. I extended my downwind until I climbed above traffic pattern altitude, then turned to the south to begin my journey.

Holding my heading of 205, and planning to climb to 4,500, but by the time I reach 3,200 I can tell that the scattered cumulus clouds directly ahead are much lower than 4,500. By the time I reach 3,700, the clouds seem to be at eye level, and as I draw closer, I decide to descend a little bit to make sure I will be under them. After 10 minutes, I hope that the clouds will allow me to fly higher, but each new bank of clouds is followed by another. 3,200 feet will have to do.

It's so quiet in the airplane by myself. Somewhere in the first 10 minutes of my flight, it dawns on me. I have the privilege of climbing into the sky, gazing down at a world that is bound by roads and sidewalks; traffic lights and fences. I am sailing high above the landlocked cares of frustrated drivers, honking their horns, wishing for an open lane on a congested highway. I'm going to travel 100 miles in the time it takes them to drive home from work. Truthfully, I cannot adequately express what it feels like to take control of an aircraft and fly to faraway places. But I just tried. ;)

Before long, Greater Kankakee Airport (IKK) is directly to the west. I am passing one of my checkpoints, so I mark the time in my navigation log. I estimated arriving at 10:15 am (15:15Z), and the time now is 10:17 am (15:17Z). Only two minutes behind schedule. I tune in to the CTAF to see if I can hear any pilots chatting from down there, but the frequency is silent. And I move on.

Looking at the time. I should be crossing my final checkpoint, the town of Paxton, very soon. Paxton will mark the start of my descent to Rantoul.

I'm scanning the horizon for the town of Paxton, or the airport. I can easily make out I-57, and I'm trying to find a distinctive bend in the highway that will help me identify the town. At last, I spot the town to the west, along with I-57 curving around it. I don't see the airport yet, but I won't descend below 2,200 until I am certain that I see it.

But, I don't. I remember spotting the airport just after seeing the town of Paxton when I made this trip with Tom. I start to wonder if I'm off course, but I can still see I-57, and I know that the town of Rantoul along with the airport is right next to the highway. Five minutes of looking around for the distinctive cross of Runway 9/27 and 18/36. I glance at the clock, and look at my navigation log. And finally, I see what happened.

My mind skipped a checkpoint! The town I saw earlier was the town of Gilman, not the town of Paxton! If I had looked more closely at my navigation log, I would have noticed that I had two more checkpoints to go... not one! I laugh out loud to myself. I guess I descended about 9 miles too early.

I look up from my sectional, and there's Paxton! The I-57 curve around the town is unmistakeable.

Well, I continue to hold 2,200 feet, because I am so close to Rantoul that attempting to climb again would be silly. It takes a few extra minutes to see the field because I am lower than I would have liked, but my altitude is safe for the area, so all I have to do is find the field. And then, at last... there she is.

According to the AWOS, the wind is still blowing gently from the north, so I tune the CTAF and report five miles north of the field along with my intention to enter the pattern on a right downwind for Runway 36. No one responds, and I don't see any other aircraft in the area. I'm going to remain vigilant in case an aircraft is buzzing around down there without calling in, but once again, it seems that I have the airport all to myself.

Good speed control and use of flaps. Touchdown is smooth, and right on the centerline. A gentle use of the brakes to slow down, and I begin to look to the left side of the runway for an exit. I can see a closed taxiway with barricades in front of it and several vehicles parked behind the barricade. There is plenty of room for me to pull off the runway and turn around, so I do so. And as I apply brake pressure to come to a full stop, I smile. My first solo leg. Complete.

Reaching into my shirt pocket; flipping open my phone; giving Tom a call.

"Hey, Tom! I'm calling you from sunny Rantoul!"

"Great job!" Tom congratulates me. "See you back here in about 45 minutes!"

Cleaning up the airplane; flaps retract, carb heat off. On the CTAF, I announce a backtaxi on Runway 36 for a departure to the north. Takeoff and climbout are normal, and I'm on my way home.

The return trip is uneventful. My cruise altitude is 3,500, and I decide to hold 3,400, following Tom's suggestion to fly at an altitude slightly higher or lower than the typical VFR altitude of 3,500 to ensure that if another VFR plane comes along at 3,500 I will easily be able to stay separated. The various banks of cumulus clouds continue to linger around the high 3,000's, so my altitude of 3,400 is perfect.

I consistently keep my eye out for other traffic, but I decide to use this long flight back home as an opportunity to become more familiar with the attitude indicator. In addition to judging my attitude by looking over the nose, along the cowling, along the windowsill and out to the wings, I periodically glance at the attitude indicator to see how my pitch affects my altitude. It doesn't take much nose-up attitude for the plane to climb 50-100 feet per minute. I am beginning to see that the attitude indicator offers a much more precise indication of the plane's pitch than I can interpret by looking over the nose, and if I concentrate on keeping the dot at the center of the horizon, I can easily correct altitude errors before they get out of control. The wind jostles me around a little bit, but I am pretty successful at holding the altitude of 3,400.

The attitude indicator is my new best friend.

Taking note of each checkpoint as I pass it; steadily closing in on Lansing. Reaching my final checkpoint: the I-57 curve to the southwest along with the racetrack (pictured at left). I look ahead at the horizon, and without a doubt, I can see Lansing. I've checked the AWOS, and the wind is still blowing gently from the north. I'm going to make straight in for Runway 36.

Carb heat on, gently descending to 2,100, and I reach the extended centerline of Runway 36 just as I finish descending. I roll out on a long final, and I realize that I am very nicely established on a good glidepath. Flaps 10, keeping the airspeed at 80, and reporting a long final for Runway 36 on the CTAF. No one responds. Again, I have the airport all to myself.

60 seconds later. I add 10 more degrees of flaps, hold the airspeed at 70 knots. The runway looks great, and I report short final on the CTAF. Throttle to idle, flaps full. Pitching the nose down, holding 65 knots. Closing in on the runway now. I pull back the control wheel steadily, and I round out. A little bit of left rudder pressure to point the nose down the centerline, and I pull back the control wheel to flare. Nose up, increasing drag, decreasing lift, and the wheels settle to the ground. It's a pretty long taxi back to the ramp, and I enjoy it. I pull up to Runway 9/27 on taxiway G, and snap a quick picture of the taxiway sign. I report crossing the runway on the CTAF and continue taxi. I approach the ramp, and I can see Tom waiting for me. Sadly, it is time for my first solo flight to end.

Aside from my early descent into Rantoul, the flight was perfect. My descent wasn't unsafe; just inefficient. In the future, I will prevent early or late descents by relying on additional landmarks to verify my position, and I will remember to use VORs as a backup to my navigation. Every flight teaches me something new.

And now it's time for the true test: long solo cross-country.

- Airman Eric

08/18/2009 - "I'm shocked!"

2009-08-21T19:00:00.014-05:00

Over the past few days, the weather has just not been cooperative. I've had to cancel two lessons with Tom already, and this morning, he called me to cancel a third.

"The cloud ceiling is going to be under 1,000 feet all day, and the visibility isn't very good either," Tom advises me.

"Well, can I come in and take my written test?" I ask.

"Sure. You're ready for it?"

Without a doubt, I'm ready. I've been practicing with the Sporty's test prep program that came with my DVDs. Just last week, I took a sample test and received a 96%. Every time I take the practice test, I might get one or two questions that throw me for a loop, but I am certain that I'm going to earn at least a 90%. I only need a 70% to pass.

I meet Tom at the office, bringing my government I.D. and my logbook. Tom endorses my logbook, attesting that I am ready to take the test. Tom advises me that if I join the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association (AOPA), I will receive $10 off the test cost and I will have access to several pilot benefits, the most important of which is free legal counsel in the event that I am involved in some sort of incident in connection with flying. Sweet deal! I sign up for the coverage, and after a phone call to the FAA Test Center, the test is uploaded to the computer, and Tom preps me on what to expect.

"60 questions, with 1 extra question that doesn't count toward your score. Each question is multiple choice. Here is a book of diagrams that you will use during the test. You can use your flightplan plotter, your flight computer, a plastic overlay for reading graphs, and scratch paper. You can't look at your Federal Aviation Regulation manual or your Pilot's Handbook of Aeronautical Knowledge... no books. You have 2 1/2 hours to complete the test, and when you've answered all of the questions and are ready to submit, let me know."

I'm ready. Let's do it!

After about 65 minutes, I had answered every question, and I was satisfied with most of them. Except for one.

The normal radius of the outer area of Class C airspace is:
A. 15 nautical miles.
B. 20 nautical miles.
C. 5 nautical miles.

Now take a look at this picture of Midway's Class C airspace:

The radius of the innermost ring in this picture is 5 nautical miles, so the radius to the outer area is 10 nautical miles, yes? And yet 10 nautical miles is not a choice!

I am confused by this question. If they used the word 'diameter', I would have no difficulty; the answer would be B., 20 nautical miles. But when they use the word 'radius', it throws me off.

When I answered this question on the Sporty's Test Prep program, they show the correct answer as "20". So that's what I put down. And with that decision made, I'm confident that I've aced this test. I am completely confident in my answers regarding flight planning, weight and balance calculations, and all other areas. I'm certain that I've got my 90%.

"Okay, Tom! I'm ready!"

Tom comes over, submits my test, and prints out my result. Here it is. The moment of truth.

82%.

Uh... WHAT!?

I couldn't believe it! I passed, but with a disgusting 82%! How is that possible!?!?

"I'm shocked!" I say.

"Me, too," says Tom. "I was certain that you would get a 90%."

UGH!

The test result document lists the learning areas where I failed to answer a question correctly. As I look over these learning areas and recall the questions I answered, I could slap myself across the face for some of the mistakes I made.

Briefly, here are the learning areas where I answered a question incorrectly, along with my explanation for what went wrong:

1. Interpret altimeter - readings / settings: I couldn't believe the ridiculous mistake that I made. I misread the 'thousands' needle on the altimeter in the book. I answered "1,500 feet", and the correct answer was "10,500 feet". The only reason that I have for missing this question is that I was so certain that I knew the answer, I rushed through it and never gave it a second thought. I can definitely read an altimeter, so I'm not worried about missing this question, but I'm disappointed that I did.

2. Interpret information on a Sectional Chart: I'll own up to this one. I think that the question wanted me to indicate the altitude that Class G airspace started for an indicated airport, and I mistakenly answered 700 ft. AGL when I should have answered 1,200 ft. AGL. I need to study up on airspace... sometimes I still mix up some of the finer details.

3. Interpret information on a Winds and Temperatures Aloft Forecast (FB): Another silly mistake. I wasn't sure if the wind direction was presented as 'true' or 'magnetic'. As I've said before, airplanes use a magnetic compass to determine direction, so when a tower clears an aircraft to takeoff or land with a wind advisory, that wind is issued with a magnetic heading. However, the wind direction in the forecast is given as a true heading. I answered the question wrong, but you can bet I'll never forget that the only time that wind direction is expressed as a magnetic heading is when a tower gives the information as part of a takeoff or landing clearance.

4. Recall airport operations - markings / signs / lighting: I was asked which sign would tell me which runway I am currently on, and my choices were "E", "F", or "M". I knew that option "E" was a taxiway sign, but I had never seen option "F" or "M" before. I ultimately answered "M" because I thought that option "F" would have to also be a taxiway sign, considering that it is the same color as the taxiway sign. By now, you've figured out what I should have answered. Yup. The correct answer was "F". Another simple mistake, and I'm certain I won't make it again.

5. Recall airport operations - visual glideslope indicators: I couldn't believe what I did! I was asked what color I would see from a tri-color VASI if I were above the glideslope. A VASI is a set of lights at the foot of a runway that a pilot uses to verify if his/her approach is on target (on the glideslope), or above or below the glideslope. The answer choices were "red", "white" and "amber". I knew that "red" means that I am below the glideslope, and that "green" means on the glideslope, but I couldn't remember if the 'above the glideslope' signal was white or amber. I knew that a tri-color VASI is capable of an amber signal, but I couldn't remember if it could give off a white signal. I hedged my bets, and I chose "amber". And I was wrong. The 'above the glideslope' signal on a tri-color VASI is "white". I was correct the 'red' and 'green' lights from the VASI can blend together to appear amber, but only if the pilot is at the very bottom of the acceptable glideslope, on the way to descending below it. Again, another silly mistake that I won't make again.

6. Recall airspace classes - limits / requirements / restrictions / airspeeds / equipment: Not sure which question I answered incorrectly in this area, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it was the Class C Airspace question I talked about earlier. I did answer 20 nautical miles, which the Sporty's Test Prep says is the correct answer. But as I look at the wording of the question ("radius of the outer area of Class C"), I think that the correct answer may have been 5 nautical miles. I am studying all airspace specifications in detail before my oral exam, so I hope that whatever mistake I made in this learning area, I won't make it again.

7. Recall airspace requirements - visibility / cloud clearance: I think that I was asked what the VFR minimums are for Class D airspace, and I chose "1 mile and clear of clouds", which is actually the VFR minimum for Class G airspace. Again, I will be boning up on my airspace knowledge before the practical exam.

8. Recall regulations - general right-of-way rules: Another silly mistake! I was asked which aircraft has the right-of-way above all others, and the choices were "glider", "airship", and "an aircraft refueling in mid-air". I knew that the answer was NOT "glider", and I opted for "airship" because I figured that any other aircraft, even a refueling one, would be more maneuverable than the airship, so the airship should have right-of-way. Nope! The correct answer is the aircraft that is refueling, which in hindsight makes sense. An aircraft refueling in mid-air is physically connected to the aircraft dispensing the fuel... how in the world are they going to give way to anyone! Yet another question that I will never forget the answer to.

9. Recall regulations - requirements of a flight plan release: I was asked whether I should file my highest cruise altitude, lowest cruise altitude, or my initial altitude on the flightplan form if I am conducting a flight with more than one cruise altitude. The correct answer is 'initial altitude', which I'm actually pretty sure that I answered correctly, but maybe I made some type of clerical error. Nevertheless, I will be learning more about filing a flightplan with ATC before taking my exam, and I will re-read all the information I can find.

10. Recall regulations - use of narcotics / drugs / intoxicating liquor: Again, a silly mistake! I was asked what the legal limit for blood alcohol percentage is permissible before flying an aircraft. My choices were ".10%", ".08%", and ".04%". I had definitely read about this legal limit, but I couldn't remember if the correct answer was ".08%" or ".04%". I decided to answer ".08%" because I remembered that .08% is the legal limit of blood alcohol percentage for drivers, and I hoped that the limit for pilots would be the same. The correct answer is ".04%", twice as strict as the limit for driving. The thing that really kills me about this is that I knew the correct answer, but I guess I talked myself out of it. Yet again, a mistake that I will not duplicate again.

So, of the 11 questions I answered incorrectly, I chalk 6 of them up to silly errors. At the end of the day, I got an 82% on this exam because I was overconfident in some areas, but had failed to study properly in other areas. I was capable of getting 55 of the 60 questions correct, and probably could have done so if I had checked my answers more carefully. For those of you doing the math, my score would have been a 92%!

Well, on the bright side, I did pass. During my oral exam I will have to demonstrate that I have studied the areas where I made mistakes. I am going to print the questions that I missed, explain why I missed them, and tell the examiner what I have done to ensure that I know the material.

It's time for solo.

- Airman Eric

08/13/2009 - "I feel like a real pilot today."

2009-08-19T10:43:00.025-05:00

It's time for the final step before reaching a milestone.

Today is going to be my last trip with Tom before moving forward to solo cross-country. We're going directly from Midway to Lafayette (LAF), then a quick stop at Kankakee (IKK), and a return to Midway.

I am feeling very good about my flight planning skills. I am confident when picking checkpoints that will be easily visible from the air, and I am skilled at calculating estimated checkpoint arrival times. Towns, divided highways, major roads, railroads, rivers and airports are all valuable landmarks that a VFR pilot must use to find his way. And if I ever feel lost, I can always tune VORs to ascertain my position and take steps to get back on track. In short, Tom may be sitting next to me, but I'm on my own.

"Today, I'm pretty much just along for the ride," Tom smiles.

I take a moment to double-check my course calculation. It is important to remember that wind speed and direction constantly affects the path the aircraft makes over the ground. I am following a true course of 155 degrees, but the wind today is forecast to be from 170 degrees at 6 knots. It's not a significant amount of wind, but according to my calculations, I will need to hold a true heading of 156 degrees. Only one degree may not seem like alot of difference, but on days when the wind is 10 or even 20 knots, the required change in true heading can be significant.

It is also important to realize that an aircraft's true course is plotted according to lines of latitude and longitude, but the true course isn't necessarily the magnetic heading that the pilot needs to fly. Longitude lines are drawn to intersect at the North Pole, but the magnetic compass points to magnetic north, which is actually a couple hundred miles south of the true North Pole. As a result, a pilot must adjust the aircraft's heading to accommodate for the magnetic variation. The VFR sectional shows a magnetic variation of 2 degrees west in our area, so I am required to add 2 degrees to the true heading of 156, reaching a magnetic heading of 158. So, my magnetic heading is 3 degrees to the west of my true course according to the sectional, which doesn't seem like alot. However, the three degrees of difference, when multiplied over a 100-mile flight, can translate to more than a mile off course! Pilots must always be aware of how wind direction and speed as well as magnetic variation can affect the heading shown by the magnetic compass. Now, the heading indicator isn't so precise that it shows my heading broken down to single degrees, so I'm going to round my magnetic heading to 160 over the course of the flight because it will be easy to read.

Climbing out from Midway, and before long, we are free of their airspace on a heading of 160 toward Lafayette. I spot my first checkpoint, a small lake near a power plant about 9 miles south of Lansing. Tom calls this "Lake Wobegone" (as in Garrison Keillor's fictional hometown), but I don't see the real name on my sectional. This lake is easily identifiable, and we've arrived precisely on schedule.

Within 15 minutes, I begin to see I-65 winding steadily toward the south. I take a really close look at the highway as we get closer. I can make out the grassy median of the divided highway and a few dozen vehicles buzzing back and forth. I notice a red car travelling in almost the same direction as the airplane, and within seconds, we pass it. It's very liberating to realize that we're travelling at over 100 miles per hour, but we're so high up that it doesn't feel very fast. I wish I could travel this way every day!

Now that we're directly over I-65, I realize that my next checkpoint is very close. It is Jasper County Airport, just outside the town of Rensselaer. After only a few moments of scanning, I easily pick out the airport just to the west.

"There's Jasper County," I say.

Tom squints out the window and shakes his head.

"Nope. That's a farm," Tom corrects me.

Wow! Upon closer inspection, I could see that it wasn't an airport at all. I could see several low flat buildings with a long strip of concrete next to them, and I assumed that the buildings were hangers next to a runway. But I suddenly realized that Jasper County Airport has a north/south runway according to the sectional, but this long strip of concrete is oriented east/west. It couldn't be the airport.

I remember that Tom said that towns are easier checkpoints to pick out than airports. I began to scan ahead for the town of Rensselaer. I can see a group of houses and trees about five miles ahead, and I notice I-65 curving around it. Double-checking my sectional, and I suspect that it might be Rensselear. I look about a mile to the east of the town, and without a doubt...

"I see the airport now. I can see the north/south runway, and that's the town of Rensselaer to the east!"

"Yup," Tom agrees. Yahtzee!

Nearing Lafayette now. There is an astounding number of wind turbines to the west, and when cross-referenced with I-65 curving toward Lafayette, I realize that we are about 9 miles from town. Time to call up Lafayette Tower.

"Lafayette Tower, N737ME is a Cessna 172, 9 miles to the north. Requesting full stop."

"N737ME, Lafayette Tower. Report 3 miles north of the field; expect runway 23."

Much like Aurora, Lafayette Tower doesn't use radar. The tower controller literally stands in the center of the tower with a pair of binoculars, and when an aircraft calls up, he scans the skies with his binoculars in an effort to see them. Tower needs us to call up when we're three miles away because we will be much easier to see as we get closer.

I count city blocks just like I do when Midway asks me to report two miles south of the field. Within a few minutes, we're descending toward the field, and I can make out runway 5/23.

"N737ME is 3 miles north and we have the field."

"N737ME, make right base runway 23, report turning final."

This is the moment when I realize something critical: I've never landed at this field before, but my training has taught me how to enter the pattern, follow the controller's instructions, and land safely. I may not know exactly where the FBO is, and I would have to look the airport up in the Airport Facility Directory to find out what services they offer. But once I have the field in sight and I am given the traffic pattern entry instructions, I know what to do, and the same will hold true no matter which airport I fly to. Within a few minutes, we are safely on the ground in Lafayette. This particular landing really wasn't that big a deal, but for me, it stood as a symbol of culmination of my training.

Taxiing off to the side, and noting that I had estimated a 12:40 arrival time in LAF. The time now? 12:41!

"This is great," I say.

"What?" asks Tom.

"I feel like a real pilot today."

Sorting out my paperwork, reviewing my route for a few seconds, and I am ready to move on to Kankakee.

Lafayette Tower is running ground control today in addition to tower operations. The airport isn't much busier than Lansing on a weekday afternoon, so the tower controller is taking on extra responsibilities.

"Lafayette Tower, N737ME requesting taxi for departure to the northwest."

"N737ME, taxi to Runway 23 via B, B1."

Taxiing along the edge of the parking area, and I notice that Purdue University has a 737 parked outside of the Aviation Technology center. The engines seem to be a little bit small, so I'm not certain if this is a fully functioning 737, but it says "Purdue University" right on it and has the university's logo on the tail. I'll get a picture of it someday.

We get our takeoff clearance from the tower, and off we go!

Passing over the windmill farm northwest of Lafayette. There are at least 150 of these things! None of them are moving today, though... not much of a wind, I guess.

We pass over the town of Kentland, and it is marked by a very obvious divided highway. I point out the landmark to Tom.

"You're definitely getting better at spotting checkpoints!"

Thanks, Tom!

In almost no time at all, I look into the distance, and I can see Kankakee, plain as day. I begin my descent.

"What runways are available at Kankakee?" Tom asks.

Suddenly I realize sometime very embarassing... I forgot to write down the runways available at Kankakee, and I never printed a runway diagram. Oops.

"Uh, wow. I guess I didn't write it down!"

"You have to remember to take down all pertinent information about the airports on your route. Runways available at your destination definitely qualify as pertinent information!"

How much do you wanna bet that I will never forget to record the runways at my destination airport ever again?

"The main runway in Kankakee is 16/34," Tom finally lets me off the hook. "And where is the wind coming from?"

"The north," I say.

"Yup!" Tom agrees. "So, which runway are you going to use?"

"34," I respond. I look up at the field slowly approaching, and I can make out Runway 34. And my brain just clicked.

"I can make a right base for Runway 34 just like we did for 23 in Lafayette!"

"You sure can," Tom agrees once again.

It's all perfect! Keeping my speed up as I descend to the traffic pattern altitude of 1,600. We call the Kankakee CTAF and reported three miles out for a right base to Runway 34. No one responded, which means that no other pilots are on the frequency. I scan the airport area, and I can't see anyone buzzing around the field. The airport is ours.

Keeping my speed at 80 knots, 10 degrees of flaps, descending on base, and the runway looks good. 20 degrees of flaps, 70 knots. A right turn to final, and I roll out precisely on the centerline. From there, it's less than a minute, and we are safely on the ground. Another stellar landing.

"Nice work," Tom congratulates. I just smile.

Double-checking the paperwork, and heading home. Did more hood time on the return trip to Midway. I am having more difficulty holding my headings and altitudes because the air is a little bumpy today. My scan of the instruments keeps breaking down, and if I fixate on any one of the instruments, I am ignoring other instruments, and it shows. My altitude is increasing and decreasing outside of the tolerances that I will need to stay within during the practical exam. And I have an explanation.

I mentioned previously that when flying IFR, a pilot is unable to determine his/her attitude in relation to the ground because he/she cannot see the ground. In this situation, a pilot must rely solely on the instruments and completely ignore the motion signals received by the body's senses. And boy, is it hard! Today, I am having trouble holding my altitude while wearing the hood because I am trying to compromise between what the instruments are telling me and what my body is telling me. I guess that somehow I thought that I would be better able to predict the outcome of my control surface movements by using the instruments to make decisions in concert with information I receive from my sense of motion, but it is clear to me now that this is precisely what an instrument pilot cannot do. I need utilize my attitude indicator as my primary instrument for decision making, and I need to entirely ignore the sensations my body feels. There is value, however, in paying attention to my sense of hearing because the sound of the propeller changes based on whether I climbing or descending, but paying attention to my sense of motion is completely counterproductive. We have more time to work on simulated instrument skills, and I'm going to need it.

The best part of today's lesson was right at the end. I made a little mistake unfolding the pattern at Midway, and I was a couple hundred feet high on final. Tom asked me to put the aircraft into a slip. The wind was slightly from the left, so I applied as much right rudder as I could possibly muster and used the control wheel to hold the centerline. The nose of the plane pointed 45 degrees to the right, and I could see that we were descending much more quickly. By pointing the airplane's nose so far to the right, I increased the drag on the airframe and we descended sharply without increasing airspeed above 65 knots. When I was about 20 feet above the runway, I applied enough left rudder to straighten out the nose of the plane and point it down the centerline. Smooth flare just above the runway surface, and the plane settled down to a gentle landing. Exited right at F, crossed Runway 4R, and rolled straight to the gate.

Tom is satisfied. Solo cross-country is next. For the first time ever, I'm going to travel to another airport all by myself.

I can't wait.

- Airman Eric

08/11/2009 - "I guess red pen was a bad idea."

2009-08-14T18:44:00.029-05:00

Tonight we're doing a nighttime dual cross-country from MDW to Pontiac (PNT). The trip is 60 nautical miles, and after I've performed a stop and go landing at PNT, I will hopefully have completed my night flying requirement.

Tom and I meet up in the Atlantic FBO lounge to look over my flight plan. I wanted to avoid mixing up my planned flightpath with other trips I have taken, so I used red pen to make my route easily distinguishable from others. There are a few airports we will be passing near on the way to PNT: Joliet (JOT) and Dwight (DTG). Tom advised that the only way to find airports at night is to look for the green and white flashing airport beacon; runway lights are practically useless unless the airplane is pointed straight toward the runway on final. DTG doesn't have a beacon, so it will be very difficult, if not impossible, to spot. I explain that most of the trip to PNT follows I-55, so I should have no trouble picking out my checkpoints in relation to the highway.

Just before we head out to the aircraft, I realize that I've forgotten my flashlight! When I flew with Kevin, he brought along his flashlight and it was instrumental in flying the airplane. I vowed that I would bring my flashlight tonight, but alas, I left it on my dining room table! Tom, thankfully, has an extra flashlight in his flight bag, and graciously lends it to me. We head out to the plane, good ol' 737ME.

The sun hangs low in the twilight sky as the fuel technician tops off the tanks. Preflight is uneventful, and the air is cool and calm as we roll out to Runway 4R and take off into the darkness. We've requested a heading of 220, but Tower can't give us the turn right away to ensure that we won't wind up in the approach path for the 4's. Tower initially gives us a heading of 240 and instructs us to remain clear of the approach path of the 4's. Within a few minutes, we overfly a stadium where some sort of live event is running. I can see magenta stage lights flashing; it looks like a rock concert. From what I can ascertain, I think this was a concert at Toyota Park in Bridgeview. Tom hoped that we hadn't missed a TFR (Temporary Flight Restriction), because aircraft are usually prohibited from flying over live events. If there were a TFR, I would have been informed of the restriction during my weather briefing. Of course, Tom called the briefer as well, and he wasn't informed of any TFR, either. Also, it is doubtful that Midway Tower would give us a heading of 240 if that heading put us in danger of busting a TFR. Perhaps they're just practicing down there... it's a little difficult to determine if there are people in the seats from this altitude. Shortly after passing the stadium, Tower gives us our desired heading of 220, and within five more minutes, we are clear of Midway's airspace. Tower tells us to squawk VFR and gives us permission to change radio frequencies.

"Squawk VFR" means to set our transponder to 1200, which is the code used for all VFR aircraft. When we squawk VFR, air traffic controllers are able to see the location of our aircraft and our altitude. The radar controllers are able to keep their aircraft away from our aircraft even though they are not in direct radio contact with us.

Climbing to our cruise altitude of 4,500 feet and scanning the ground for I-55. Within five minutes of expecting to see I-55, I still don't have it in sight. Did I pass it?

"I thought I would be able to see I-55 by now," I say to Tom.

"It's right down there!" Tom replies.

I look down where Tom is pointing. Well, I see a few headlights travelling on a road down there, but it isn't nearly what I expected a major interstate to look like. I continue looking at those lights, and then just next to them, I see some red brake lights travelling in the opposite direction.

Wow, I guess that's I-55. I thought it would be a lot easier to spot!

"It's so dark!" I exclaim.

"Don't forget that the highways aren't lit once they get out of the city. It's a divided country highway. You're not looking for streetlights; you're looking for headlights!"

I-55 was much more difficult to spot than I thought it would be. Within minutes of finally spotting the highway, I lost sight of it again. Two of my three checkpoints on the way to PNT are dependent on my ability to find I-55. This is going to be tricky.

"At night, towns make much better checkpoints than highways," Tom advised. "And you can pretty much forget about spotting railroads and rivers. It's just too dark down there."

We pass over the town of Braidwood, and I take out the flashlight to pick out my next checkpoint. It's the town of Dwight, right next to Dwight Regional Airport (DTG). After I finish looking at my sectional, I leave the flashlight on.

"Can you turn that flashlight off for awhile? It's really bright!" Tom asks.

I turn off the flashlight, and instantly see that Tom is right; it is much easier to see the lights of Braidwood with the flashlight off. However, when I attempted to check my VFR sectional for the frequency of the PNT VOR, I realized that I had made a terrible mistake! I had drawn my flight path on my sectional in red pen, and when my map was bathed in the red light of the Cessna cockpit, the flight path line was completely invisible!

"I guess red pen was a bad idea."

Thankfully, I do have Tom's flashlight to double-check my flight plan. If the flashlight were to go out, however, I would be unable to read my map! In aviation, it is very important to always have redundancies in place so that if you lose some sort of aircraft component, you can rely on its backup. I already have a handheld transceiver just in case my radio fails, and I always bring extra pens in case I drop a pen on the floor. And when I fly at night, I'm going to be sure to mark my sectional in black pen, and I'm going to bring not one, but two flashlights!

According to the time, I should be right near Dwight airport. Tom and I both look for it, and try to pick out the town of Dwight, but we just can't find it. I can tell from the VOR indicator that we are tracking the 220 inbound radial to PNT, so we are definitely in the right place.

"Some towns, even big ones, just aren't well lit," advises Tom. "Always have a backup plan in case you can't find the checkpoint you're looking for."

We continue on, and according to my flight plan and my checkpoints, I should be within 10 miles of the airport. PNT is an uncontrolled field with pilot-controlled lighting, so I tune the CTAF and click the microphone seven times to turn on the lights. I'm scanning the darkness ahead, but cannot see anything.

Finally, after a few minutes, Tom says, "I think I see the airport beacon. It's almost straight ahead."

I can see the lights for the town of Pontiac straight ahead, but I can't make out the airport beacon. Then, Tom starts calling out the colors of the airport beacon as he sees them to help my eyes focus in.

"Green. White. Green. White."

Finally, as Tom said "white" for the second time, my eyes catch the flashing white beacon in the distance. The town of Pontiac isn't very well lit, but the lights are enough to draw attention away from the extremely important airport beacon. Just as soon as I claimed to see the airport beacon, I lost it! But luckily, within a few seconds I was able to find the beacon again, and as I got closer, the beacon became clearer and clearer. And soon after that, I could make out the green runway threshold lights marking runway 6/24.

"I have the runway in sight," I say.

"Good. Me too. Make left traffic for runway 6," Tom instructs.

Descending to traffic pattern altitude, keeping an eye on the runway threshold, and when it passes, I begin my preparations for landing. As I turn final, however, I am greeted with a surprise.

"Whoa! I am way high!" I exclaim.

"I saw that coming," smiles Tom. "Your downwind was way too close to the runway, and you didn't have much of a base."

It's dark, I'm unfamiliar with the area, and I'm not sure exactly how long this runway is. The decision is simple.

"I'm going around," I say.

"Okay!" Tom replies.

As I turn crosswind, I make sure to go further out before turning downwind. And as I turn final, the sight picture looks terrific.

"Much better," Tom approves.

Throttle to idle, flaps to full, roundout to flare, and within a few seconds, the tires make a very satisfying squeak as they touch down on the runway. I'm right on the centerline, within a couple hundred feet of the threshold. Awesome.

"Come to a full stop on the runway. Don't use up more runway than you have to."

Steadily slowing down, and as I come to a stop on the runway, Tom asks, "How long did it take us to get here?"

"About 35 minutes," I say.

"And how much night flight time did you get with Kevin?"

"1.7 hours."

Tom does some quick mental arithmetic.

"Well, you need a total of 3 hours of night flight, and I don't want you to come up short. Do you want to do a couple takeoffs and landings in the pattern?"

"Sure!" I say.

"Good! Let's go around again. Carb heat in, flaps retract, and throttle to full!"

Two more landings in the pattern, both of them very good. I tell Tom that I need a minute to get my paperwork in order before we head back home. I pull off of the runway and taxi to the ramp. After a few minutes of flipping pages on my kneeboard, I'm ready to go. We backtaxi on Runway 6, and depart to the northeast.

I really enjoy the trip back to MDW because I am able to pick out my checkpoints from the other direction. I was never able to pick out the town of Dwight, but I had much more luck following I-55 to the northeast. Found Braidwood, and after what seemed like only a few more minutes, I noticed an airport beacon straight ahead.

"What beacon is that?" I wonder.

"What do you think it is?" Tom asks.

"Well, it's flashing green and white, so it's a public civilian airport."

"Yup," Tom agrees.

"But I don't see an airport at this point on the route."

"Well, what town is that?" Tom asks, pointing forward out the window.

I have no idea.

"Wow... that can't be Joliet... can it!?" I ask.

"Sure is! That's Joliet! And that's the city of Joliet to the north!"

That was fast! I check the clock, and sure enough, my flight plan verifies that we are approaching Joliet. I guess time flies when you're having fun.

We head straight to the east to ensure that we will remain clear of Midway's airspace until we can be sure to enter it directly from the south. We definitely don't want to approach the airport from the southwest because all of the arrivals are being vectored to Runway 4R, and it would be horrible to approach the airport directly underneath those arrivals. We contact Midway Tower, receive our squawk code, and turn toward Midway. Heading home.

I ask Tom about the "Nike Swoosh" that Kevin talked about, and Tom said that he has heard of the group of yellow streetlights that seem to make a large Nike swoosh symbol that points to the airport. However, Tom isn't exactly sure where it is. I never was able to find the Nike Swoosh.

Midway asked us to make a right base for Runway 4R, and keep our speed up. Just like last lesson. Descending to traffic pattern altitude with the throttle to full, pulling back to 2,100 RPMs in time to slow down, deploying flaps to full on final.

"This is going to be a short field landing," I say.

"Okay," Tom says.

None such luck. My speed was very good for the short field landing, but I was high on the approach. I touched down on Runway 4R about 500 feet further down the runway than I wanted to, and slowed down to exit right at F.

"We've got to work on your short field and soft field landings," Tom advises. "You're just not being precise enough."

We taxi to parking, and I shut down the aircraft. Tom reads the Hobbs clock (the meter which reports how long the plane has been running).

"2.4 hours. Just a tenth over."

My mind does some quick arithmetic. Something isn't right.

"Uh, Tom? I had 1.7 hours last time. 2.4 hours more equals 4.1 total. I only needed 3."

Tom freezes for a moment and looks at me in disbelief. It's not very often that Tom looks perplexed.

"Oops... you're right. I guess we didn't need to do those go-arounds in the pattern!"

Apparently Tom was thinking that I needed 2.3 hours, when in fact I only needed 1.3. It's not really a big deal. Before I can meet my long range goal of earning the Certified Flight Instructor certificate, I'm going to need 250 hours in the airplane and I'm going to have to earn my Commercial certificate. After tonight's lesson, I have a little bit less than 50 hours. 200 hours to go, so it doesn't really matter whether I earn them now or later.

And with that, my night requirement is complete! I don't really feel comfortable flying a cross-country at night by myself, and I confessed this to Tom.

"Oh, I didn't feel good about night flying until well after I got my license. The trick is to make night flights to places you are familiar with until you become more comfortable with it. Once you have your license, you'll be legal to fly at night, but you better be careful and avoid biting off more than you can chew."

Another example where "legal" doesn't necessarily mean "safe".

I enjoyed night flying, but I'm going to need more experience before I can claim to feel comfortable. Next lesson, we're going to do one more dual cross-country, and if all goes well, I'll do my first solo cross-country soon after! Every lesson brings me closer to the ultimate goal!

- Airman Eric

08/06/2009 - "Wow! It's lit up like a Christmas tree, isn't it?"

2009-08-13T15:58:00.058-05:00

For the Private Pilot's License, I am required to have 3 hours of night flying, during which I must do a cross-country of at least 100 nautical miles total, along with 10 takeoffs and landings to a full stop.

Tom's schedule makes it very difficult for him to complete night flights, so my first lesson was conducted with a different instructor, named Kevin. Unfortunately, it didn't occur to me to get a picture of Kevin, but my lesson with him in 172NT was pretty much an introduction of night flying with 4 landings at GYY, 3 landings at IGQ, and a final landing at MDW.

Preflight uneventful. After starting the engine, Kevin showed me how to turn on the interior lights so that I will be able to read the instruments in the dark aircraft. Every automobile I have ever driven has included backlit guages, enabling the driver to easily read the guages at night. Not so in our little 1979 Cessna! The interior lighting is a single red light bulb which casts a barely visible glint of red light onto the instrument panel.

"There's your light," Kevin says.

Um... ??? "Where's my light!?"

Well, honestly, once my eyes adjusted to the low level of light I could see the instruments pretty well. However, I am always going to need a flashlight in the cockpit. It is very difficult to verify the location of the trim wheel in that limited light, and besides, it's always a good idea to carry a backup light in case the one in the cockpit fails.

The first thing I notice immediately after takeoff is that the air is very, very smooth at night. Air movements, as you may imagine, are fueled by the sun's uneven heating of the earth's surface, and when the sun has been down for a few hours, the air settles down to a cool, glassy calm. When I take my wife Nadia flying for the first time, I'm going to take off just as sunset begins, thereby ensuring beautiful views of the city and calm, smooth air. As my lessons continue, I can feel that special day approaching, closer and closer. It is so difficult to wait for the day when I will take my wife for a plane ride, but as I look at my logbook, it is apparent that our first sunset flight isn't very far away at all.

I was heading 090 from Midway on our way to Gary, and I took the opportunity to get a night shot of the Chicago skyline. On my first attempt, I was able to capture all of the building lights and street lights in our beautiful city, but in order to capture these lights, I have to keep the shutter open for about a second. Of course, I'm in a moving plane, and I am unable to hold the camera precisely steady, and the result is shown at right.

So, I manually increased the exposure and increased the shutter speed to ensure that I wouldn't get the blurry lights while still ensuring that a maximum amount of light would enter the lens. And the result is shown here:

Argh! We are so far away from the skyline that the increased shutter speed just doesn't permit enough of the light to reach the camera lens. The end result is a focused, but barely visible skyline.

Hey! I happen to be a pretty good photographer! Just not tonight.

Within a few minutes, we reached the lakeshore, and Kevin asked me to turn southeast toward Gary. At first, I felt nervous flying over the water, but I was certainly within gliding distance of land, and it was actually very liberating to fly out over the water. Kevin asked me to contact Gary Tower.

"Gary Tower, Cessna 172NT is 5 miles to the northwest, land and remain in the pattern, stop and go."

"Cessna 172NT, Gary Tower. Make straight in for Runway 12. Traffic is a Bell Ranger helicopter at your 2 o'clock, 2 miles, he's departing the pattern to the west."

Kevin and I scanned the sky for that helicopter, but against the backdrop of the city lights, it was hard to see. It took a few moments, but at last I saw the helicopter's strobe passing from left to right, and I instantly knew that the helicopter would not be a factor. I was hoping, however, that I would be able to see the green NAV light on the helicopter's starboard side, but I guess I just wasn't close enough.

Kevin tells me that he sees the airport, and I'm scanning the area where he's pointing, but I just don't see it. I guess I visualized that I would be able to see the runway lights from far away, or at least the airport beacon. For a long time, I looked and looked. Then, at last, I noticed the red runway end identifier lights (REILs) for Runway 12, and a few seconds later, I could see eight green lights marking the runway threshold. Once I was able to see the beginning and end of the runway, my brain somehow filled in the white runway edge lights, and I could finally make out the entire runway. Boy, it was hard to see it until we were almost right on it!

"Wind 060 @ 4, Runway 12 cleared for the option," says the Gary Tower controller.

"Cleared for the option, Runway 12," I respond.

"Throttle to 1,600 RPMs, flaps 10, pitch the nose down." Kevin says.

Following directions, and the runway is approaching.

"You're pretty far right of the centerline. Control wheel to the left," Kevin warns.

At this moment, I realized that I was actually aiming the airplane at the right runway edge because I thought the white lights on the right side were the runway centerline lights. No, I thought to myself, I need to land in between the runway edge lights. I made the correction.

As I came closer and closer to the runway, my brain began to fill in the blanks. It really wasn't much different than landing in the daytime, except instead of aiming at the forward edge of the pavement for my landing, I was pointing at the green threshold lights. As I descended to within 10 feet of the runway, my landing lights started to light up the surface, and I could clearly make out the "12" runway marking as well as the centerline. From that point forward, the landing was textbook.

"Come to a full stop right here on the runway," Kevin says. "Clean up the airplane."

Carb heat off, flaps retract, ready to go again.

Very good climbout, but as I turned crosswind, I rolled out of the turn too late. I think I lost orientation with the runway, and Kevin reminded me to keep the runway in sight. I looked over my left shoulder, and to my amazement, I couldn't see the runway at all! No white lights, no REILs, no green threshold lights. I guess I envisioned that the runway would be clearly lit up and easy to see! The reality, at least at Gary, is that the runway is difficult to see unless you're pointed right at it on final. And have I mentioned before that Gary... well... smells funny?!?

Kevin reminded me that the wind is from the northeast. It's a very light wind, only 4 knots, but I must point the nose of the aircraft to the right to counter the wind. I glanced out the left window, and I could see the runway again. The red Runway End Identifier Lights reminded me that I was now abeam the threshold. Time to descend for landing #2.

"Watch your airspeed," Kevin warns. "You're too slow."

I instinctively push the nose of the airplane downward to increase the airspeed, as I look down at the airspeed indicator, which admittedly is difficult to see in the light cast by the single red lightbulb. It takes a few seconds for me to interpret the markings, but yes, I was slowing down past 65 knots on base. And as I turned final, I was a little bit high because of my airspeed error on base. I landed just fine, but I didn't manage to come to a full stop until I was 1000 feet down the runway. I cleaned up the airplane, and looked forward to gauge my distance from the end of the runway. I could make out the REILs, and I was pretty sure that I could take off in the distance remaining, but I asked Kevin his opinion, just in case.

"Do I have enough runway to take off from this point?"

"Oh, yes," Kevin says. "At least 5000 feet and you only need about 800."

Another perfect takeoff with proper right rudder pressure, and two more go-arounds in the pattern at GYY. My fourth landing at GYY was very, very good. I flared for touchdown at just about 60 knots and almost exactly on the numbers, and managed to slow down before the first taxiway. It was an excellent short field landing.

"Nice job. Let's head out to Lansing," Kevin directed.

Climbed out to 1000 ft AGL, and turned to the south. Kevin pointed out a large power plant in the distance, and told me that the power plant is due east of Lansing. As I reached the power plant, I turned to the west and began looking for the airport beacon.

"Lansing has pilot-controlled lighting, right? Can I turn it on now?" I ask Kevin.

"Go for it," he says.

I've been waiting for this moment for more than two months. Many uncontrolled fields nowadays have pilot-controlled lighting. There is no tower or ground controller on duty because the airport isn't busy enough to warrant the coverage, so pilots communicate directly to each other, announcing their intentions on the Common Terminal Area Frequency (CTAF). It doesn't make sense to have runway lights burning all night if no one is going to use them, so to save electricity and light bulbs, the runway lights remain off until someone wants to use them. Pilots have the ability to turn on airport lighting while airborne by tuning the CTAF and clicking their microphone three times for low-intensity light, five times for medium-intensity, and seven times for high-intensity light. Once activated, the lights stay on for fifteen minutes, and if another pilot comes along and clicks his microphone, the fifteen-minute timer starts over. The microphone serves as the "on" switch, but the lights turn off according to a timer, so it's not possible for a pilot to turn the runway lights off while another pilot is using them. This is my first time activating pilot-controlled lighting, so you better believe I clicked that microphone seven times.

And... WHAM!

Lansing Regional Airport lights up like a small city. Bright white runway lights, REILs, and in addition to the green threshold lights, there was a pair of strobe lights on either side of the runway threshold. I could even make out the blue taxiway lights and taxiway signs. You'd have to have your eyes closed to miss this airport.

"Wow! It's lit up like a Christmas tree, isn't it?" I say.

The AWOS is reporting calm winds, so tonight's runway at Lansing is pilot's choice. I choose Runway 18 because it's the only runway at Lansing that I've never landed on before. I report entering the left downwind Runway 18 on the CTAF, and make a very successful descent in the pattern, putting the plane down right on the numbers. Another excellent landing.

"Nice work," Kevin says as I exit the runway at K. Then his hand reaches up and switches off my taxi and landing light.

"Okay, what if you lose your landing lights? Keep the plane on the taxiway centerline by looking at the blue taxiway edge lights."

I must say that it's very disconcerting at first, but within a minute, my eyes adjust to the lower level of light. And actually, I can make out the taxiway centerline on the pavement just from the blue wash of the edge lighting. We make our way to the runway threshold, I report a takeoff, remaining in the pattern, and we're off!

Kevin reminds me to apply right rudder on the climbout, and we lift off into the dark. The runway lights are more then enough to help me gauge my climb, and I keep an eye on the airspeed indicator to double check for 75 knots. Within two minutes, we're on final for runway 18 again, and I set the plane down right on the centerline without using any landing lights at all.

As we taxi to the runway threshold again, I'm looking forward along the taxiway edge, and I suddenly see two small, golden orbs glinting at me, about six inches above the ground, and about 10 feet ahead.

"What is that?!" I ask.

"What!?" Kevin doesn't see it.

I reach up and flick on the taxiway light and catch a reasonably sized raccoon dashing off the taxiway into the grass.

"Ha!" Kevin laughs. "There's a lot of wildlife around here. Maybe you better taxi with the light on."

Grin.

One more takeoff and landing with the landing light off, and it's time to head home.

Climbing out from Lansing, and I set myself up to approach Midway from the south. I've returned to Midway from Lansing often enough to feel confident about the route I am taking. I contact Midway Tower, and he asks to report the field in sight. Kevin tells me to look for the beacon, and I'm trying, but it isn't easy to spot the field.

"It'll be a long, black sliver in between lit up roads," Kevin advises me. "Even Midway can be tricky to spot at night."

There are several dark patches ahead, but none of them seem distinctive. I do manage to pick out the two Alsip water towers, all lit up in white light, so I am certain that I am on the correct course. Just when I'm going to ask Kevin for help, he says, "Did Tom tell you about the Nike Swoosh?"

Wha?!

"No," I laugh.

"The lights from Archer Avenue make a Nike Swoosh that points straight at the airport. The lights are really yellow. You know what I'm talking about, right? The Nike logo?"

"Yeah, I do."

And I'm looking for this Nike swoosh, but it's not really helping me. Then, I glance ahead, and I'm amazed to realize that I can make out one of the large Southwest hangers on the north edge of Midway. Once I have the hanger, my brain fills in the rest of the details, and I have the airport in sight.

"Cessna 172NT has the field in sight," I report on the radio.

"Cessna 172NT, make right base runway 4R, keep your speed up, you're ahead of a Southwest 737 on a 10 mile final doing 270 knots over the ground."

Whoa.

Kevin is there to help me out. We're about to approach Midway in a whole new way.

"Make your right base. Push the throttle to full and descend to about 1,200," Kevin says.

I turn to a heading of about 300, making my right base. I'm descending at full power, and our airspeed is pushing 115 knots. I glance out of the right window, and suddenly, I can see the green runway threshold lights, and the rest of the runway fills in. I've got it.

"Throttle back to 1,600. Fly level for now. The plane will slow down pretty quickly."

Levelling off. The airspeed is dropping, and it's down below 80 within 10 seconds. Flaps 10, rolling out on final. Our angle looks good, so I drop another 10 degrees of flaps and point the nose just before the runway threshold.

"You have to land on the other side of the green lights," Kevin warns.

"No problem," I say.

I pull the throttle back to idle, and within a few seconds, I feel like I'm a little low. Not low enough to be dangerous; just low enough to preclude full flaps. I pull back on the control wheel and coast right over the runway threshold. It takes a long time for the plane to slow down and touch the runway because I only have 20 degrees of flaps, but I am able to exit at F and taxi to the tower apron.

"I didn't think I could have put out the final 20 degrees of flaps, but I guess I could have."

"Sure," Kevin says. "You used up more runway than you had to. But it was a smooth landing."

Each time I land, I learn a little something new.

Night flying isn't hard; just different. During my next lesson with Tom, we're going to do a night cross-country to Pontiac. I admit that night flying still makes me a little nervous, but my next lesson is another opportunity to tackle my fear.

- Airman Eric

08/05/2009 - "I'll have the $100 hamburger."

2009-08-12T18:50:00.024-05:00

Another lesson where everything turned out right.

First, here we are parked outside the Chicago Business Air Center, the FBO in Lansing (shown at left). We stopped off here to refuel after I practiced all of the maneuvers that I will need to exhibit during the checkride: Turns around a point, S-turns, steep turns, power-off stalls, and power-on stalls.

I started with turns around a point. The wind is light and variable, so I was able to pick the cardinal heading from which to start my turn. I decided to start out facing south. Tom asked me to pick out a point around which to make my two full turns. I chose an intersection between a country highway and a country road. Maneuvering speed, 1000 feet AGL, and I've verified that there aren't any tall powerlines in the area. Time to begin.

Well, I'll admit that I didn't really have a rough time holding the correct bank angle because the wind was hardly a factor. During a windy day, I would require more drastic bank angle changes, but today, I held a steady 10 or 20 degrees of bank, holding my altitude at 1,800, looking out the left window to maintain my ground track. With each quarter turn, I glanced forward, continuing my mental projection of the circle. By the end of the first turn, my ground track had made a perfect circle around the intersection, and I knew that my second turn would be just as good. Lo and behold, my second circle was just as good as the first, and I rolled out of the turn at almost exactly the spot where I started.

"Very nice," Tom says. He's congratulating me more often these days.

Moving on to S-Turns. I found a long north/south road, far away from power lines. As I drew closer to the road, I picked out a farmhouse about 1/2 mile away along the road, and once the farmhouse was directly off my left wing, I banked the wings to the left 30 degrees, and then steadily began to take the bank back out, ensuring equal distance from the farmhouse at all times. As I continued to circumvent the farmhouse and began to come back to the road, I looked to the right to choose my second landmark. Within a few seconds, I chose a large white house. Passing over the road, I banked the wings to the right, and continued to make my S-turn around the white house, keeping perfect distance. And at the conclusion of the turn, as I passed over the road with the white house directly off my right wing, I levelled out, and smiled.

"Very nice, once again," Tom said. "I think your ground reference maneuvers are good. We really don't need to practice those until we're doing final practice for your checkride."

Awesome.

Climbed to 2,800 feet to practice stalls. Reached altitude, trimmed the aircraft for level flight. When I felt ready, I prepared for the power-on stall. Throttle back to 1,600 RPMs, holding level flight as the plane slows to 65 knots. Throttle to full, pulling back to climb at 75 knots. Pulling back, more and more, the stall horn sounds. Just as the stall manifests and I feel the buffet, I push the control wheel in for less then a second, then neutralize it completely. I hold slow flight attitude as my speed picks up, and my right hand quickly double-checks that the throttle is full, carb heat is off, and flaps are up. It's textbook.

"Very good," Tom smiles. "Recover here, and perform a power-off stall."

Throttle back to 1,600 RPMs, pulling back on the control wheel to maintain altitude. Slowing to 65 knots while steadily adding flaps. As flaps are fully extended, I begin pulling back on the control wheel, more and more, until the stall horn sounds. Continuing to pull back until the stall manifests, and as the nose starts to dip down, I push the control wheel forward and neutralize it to maintain slow flight attitude. Then I bring my right hand up to push the throttle to full, push the carb heat to off, and lift the flaps to 20 degrees. Once I verify positive rate on the vertical speed indicator, I retract the flaps back to 10 degrees, maintain altitude, and retract the flaps when I reach 75 knots.

"Very good, again!" Tom says. "Let's finish up your maneuvers with steep turns."

Maintaining 2,900 feet and maneuvering speed of 97 knots. Just before entering the turn to 45 degrees of bank, I add 100 RPMs and pull back slightly on the control wheel to keep from losing altitude. I can feel the extra G-Force pushing me down in my seat; it's only 1.4 G's, which means that the plane and everything in it feels like it weighs 40% more. It's not alot; a 60 degree bank would be 2.0 G's, and I would feel like I weigh twice as much! Still, it's an interesting feeling, like being in a roller coaster that suddenly changes direction. I'm losing a little bit of altitude, so I pull back on the control wheel to compensate. As I complete my first turn, I've lost more than 100 feet. Tom points this out, then instructs me to complete another steep turn in the opposite direction.

Banking the wings to the right, 45 degrees. Pulling back on the control wheel to prevent any change in altitude. Remarkably, I am actually better at holding my altitude in the right-hand steep turn than I am to the left!

"Most students are better at the left-hand steep turn. I've never seen a student who was better at the right-hand steep turn."

Well, it is my intention to become proficient on both right- and left-hand turns, but I'm not there yet. Something else to work on.

"Let's go to Lansing and do some takeoffs and landings," Tom said. "I'll slap the hood on you on the way."

I was a little sloppier holding headings and altitudes today while wearing the hood. I've done quite a bit of reading about mistakes pilots make when they lose visual reference with the ground, and I have an explanation for my difficulty.

When a human being flies an airplane, he is primarily dependent on his sense of sight to determine whether he is climbing, descending, turning, etc. When a pilot is deprived of his sense of sight, either by flying through a cloud, or fog, or at night, he must rely on instruments. Without instruments, a pilot would have to rely on his sense of motion, which is primarily governed by the inner ear canal.

Human senses, especially our senses of touch and motion, have evolved to perceive the world on the ground, and relying on one's sense of motion can be very dangerous in an airplane. If a pilot enters a banked turn, for example, the inner ear will sense the change in orientation and tell the brain that the plane is turning to the left. However, if the pilot keeps that turn constant for 10-20 seconds and is unable to see the ground, the fluids in the inner ear will settle, causing the pilot to believe that the plane is level when in fact it is still turning. You can imagine that if a pilot continues to bank the wings too far, he can cause a terrible accident.

The reason why I am having difficulty, after I had been so successful yesterday, is because there is more of a wind factor today. Since my first lesson, changes in wind direction can make the plane turn off course or generate bumps. But I have always relied on my sense of vision to right the plane and put it back on course. When I have the hood on, I don't have that luxury. I find that even though I am looking solely at the instruments, my body is feeling the motion of the airplane bopping around, and I am trying to respond to my sense of motion. I need to learn to completely ignore my sense of motion and trust the instruments implicitly.

It's not easy!

Tom has asked me to follow a heading of 010 at an altitude of 2,100, and I've been trying to hold it for a long time. I'm not horrible, but I am definitely not holding the altitude +/- 100 feet as I am required to, so I will obviously need more practice.

"Okay," Tom says, "Take off the hood."

I remove the hood, and plain as day, there's Lansing Regional Airport. Time to land.

"Let's land, then you'll do three takeoffs and landings in the pattern by yourself."

Actually...

"Tom, to be honest with you, I'm feeling a little bit tired. I wouldn't mind a 10 minute break."

"Well," Tom says, "We can park, top off the plane, and get out to stretch our legs. Sure."

"Well, Tom, do you have a lesson after this? Do you want to go up to Shannon's Landing and get a bite to eat?" I ask, earnestly.

Tom thinks about it for a moment. "Yeah, I can do that. I'll just give Bill a call to make sure no one else is using the plane."

"Awesome," I say. "I'll have the $100 hamburger."

"What!?" Tom smiles.

"You haven't heard of that? Getting in the airplane to fly out to an airport with a restaurant on the field. The burger doesn't cost $100, but getting out to the airport sure does!"

"HA!" Tom likes it. "That's funny."

A perfect landing at Lansing, a quick phone call to Bill, and he green-lights our little lunch break. As the plane fuels up, Tom and I take a walk over to Shannon's Landing and have lunch (shown here, to the right).

Except, I didn't order the $100 hamburger. I had the $100 Caesar chicken salad, instead.

Finished lunch, did three more solo takeoffs and landings before picking up Tom and heading back to Midway.

It's all good.

- Airman Eric

08/04/2009 - "Everything you did was perfect!"

2009-08-06T00:28:00.021-05:00

Nope, I'm not dealing cards while I'm flying, and that's not a strange new kind of baseball cap. In this picture, I am wearing a hood which will prevent me from looking out the windows, so I will be forced to fly the airplane by instruments alone. Today, we will begin simulated instrument training in N737ME.

Instrument flying allows a pilot to fly in conditions which prevent him from looking out the window to ascertain his position, most commonly because he is flying within a cloud. In case you're wondering, when a pilot flies into a cloud, he loses all visual reference with the ground and sees nothing but white. However, the instruments in the plane still give the pilot his attitude in relation to the ground, his airspeed, his altitude, whether he is climbing or descending, and can guide the pilot directly to a runway even if he can't see it. Of course, I won't be able to master all of that until I finish my Private Pilot Certificate and start working on my Instrument Rating. For now, I only need 3 hours of simulated instrument flying to ensure that if I ever did get myself into a cloud or if I lost my frame of reference with the ground, I would be able to use the instruments well enough to get myself out of trouble.

As a VFR aircraft, we are prevented from flying into clouds because we must be able to see aircraft in the distance at all times. So, in order for me to practice instrument flying, Tom will be my eyes. While I fly the plane by responding to the information given to me from the instruments, Tom will be looking out the window, making sure we don't come near any clouds, other aircraft, or any other obstacles that will put the aircraft in danger.

While Flight Simulator is lousy at teaching a pilot how to do ground reference maneuvers or how to use landmarks to identify one's position because the scenery in the game just isn't realistic enough, as I began my simulated instrument flying today, I could instantly tell that VATSIM and FS9 are excellent tools for teaching flight in reference to the instruments. The cockpit in the computer simulation displays the exact same instruments in the same places as this real-life cockpit, and when I put the hood on today and followed Tom's directions for turns, climbs, and descents, I was quite good at hitting my headings and altitudes.

The primary instrument that I must refer to is the attitude indicator (top row, middle). This instrument verifies whether I am in level flight, climbing, or descending, and it is weighted in the bottom so that it will always tell me where the ground is. Secondary instruments that provide me with additional information are the heading indicator (bottom row, middle) which tells me the compass heading that the airplane is pointed, the altitude indicator (top row, right) which gives the plane's altitude in relation to mean sea level, and the vertical speed indicator (bottom row, right) which quickly tells me whether I am climbing or descending. Additionally, I also refer to the airspeed indicator (top row, left), but not nearly as often as the other instruments.

On a side note... the instrument that is taped over is the turn coordinator... it wasn't working when this photo was taken. The turn coordinator helps verify whether the plane is yawing to the left or right, which would require rudder pressure to correct for the yaw.

On one level, instrument flying is very liberating. I am no longer responsible for looking out the window, watching out for traffic; Tom, my safety pilot, is taking care of that for me. All I have to look at are these six little instruments. In order to receive information from all of the instruments, I must maintain a scan. My eyes jump to each instrument, my brain ascertains the information it is giving to me, my hands and feet react to that information, and my eyes move to the next instrument. The attitude indicator is the most important instrument; my eyes jump to this instrument three times as often as every other instrument. So, in short, my scan of the instruments might go like this:

1. Attitude Indicator
2. Heading Indicator
3. Attitude Indicator
4. Altitude Indicator
5. Attitude Indicator
6. Vertical Speed Indicator

... and then back to the Attitude Indicator again. I also glance over at the Airspeed Indicator and Turn Coordinator from time to time.

"Fly heading 160, climb and maintain 3,200," Tom requests, simulating a direction from Air Traffic Control.

"Heading 160, climbing to 3,200." I respond.

Banking the wings right to a heading of 160, while pulling back on the control wheel to climb. When instrument flying, the standard turn is no longer 30 degrees; it is now 17 degrees, as shown on the turn coordinator. At this bank angle, the plane takes 2 minutes to make a full 360 degree circle. This bank angle is standardized for all instrument flying, so that Air Traffic Control can predict the turn radius that aircraft are going to make. And for a first time out, I've got my heading and altitude pegged.

"Wow. I can see that instrument flying is going to be no problem for you," Tom congratulates.

Thank you once again, VATSIM!

It was quite a day. MDW-ARR-JOT-GYY-IGQ-MDW, one landing at each field, with hood work in between. My landings are spot on nowadays. I am steadily able to touch down sooner and sooner, using up less and less runway. This will be incredibly important when I perform my short field landing for my checkride. In a short field landing, I must use up the least amount of runway possible. In order to do this, I am actually pointing the aircraft before the runway threshold rather than on it, because when I pull back to flare, the plane is of course going to continue past the threshold and touch down on the numbers or before. After all of my landings were done and we were headed back to MDW, Tom made one comment that I had never heard him make before.

"Everything you did was perfect!"

Wow.

I still have lots more work to do. Only managed .4 hours of simulated instrument, so I still need 2.6 hours more. But I can truly sense my readiness for cross country solo to be just over the horizon. I still have to do 3 hours of night flying as well.

Now, will somebody please help this guy find the master switch?

- Airman Eric

07/22/2009 - "Back in the saddle again!"

2009-07-25T00:13:00.000-05:00

The cross-country to Rantoul really helped clear my head. Since then, I've been to Joliet and Lansing again, practicing crosswind takeoffs and landings. It is apparent to me now that my bad landing at Midway, as well as my bad takeoff at Joliet were due solely to my failure to properly apply rudder pressure. I've learned in a very concrete way that the rudder is a necessary control surface at all times, but during takeoff and landing it is instrumental in assuring the safe operation of the aircraft.

I shudder to think back to misconceptions I had regarding the rudder versus the brakes. I recall using brake pressure to make turns while I was taxiing the aircraft, which is necessary at slow speeds, but once the plane gets moving the correct way to turn is to apply rudder pressure, which turns the nose wheel and completes the turn. I was also attempting to use brake pressure to hold the centerline after touching down on my landings. Essentially, if I landed left of the centerline, I would apply extra right brake to point the plane back toward the centerline, but the correct way to hold the centerline is to use rudder pressure to steer onto it and then use even brake pressure on both sides to slow the airplane down. These were misconceptions that Tom could not have been aware of, but I'm thankful that I've battled them back. After wrestling with remembering to apply proper rudder pressure for weeks and weeks, I have now arrived at a simple and undeniable conclusion.

I love my rudder pedals.

Climbing out from Midway, and I feel really good. My landings at JOT and IGQ have been very successful, and I'm ready to do more today. But first, Tom has a special treat for me: the falling leaf stall.

Normally, to recover from a power-off stall, the pilot pushes forward then neutralizes the control wheel, steps on the high wing if in a turn, pushes in the throttle to full, pushes the carb heat off, and retracts flaps to 20 degrees until verifying positive rate. But when maintaining a falling leaf stall, the pilot continues to pull back on the control wheel after the plane fully stalls. It is very important to use rudder pressure to keep the wings level, but Tom explained that if done correctly, the plane can safely be kept in a perpetual stall. I followed Tom's directions, and I was amazed at the results.

For safety, Tom asks me to climb up to 3,800 feet to ensure that we will be able to stall the airplane without danger of getting too close to the ground. I begin the preparations for a power-off stall, and when I'm ready, I pull back on the control wheel to enter the stall. The stall horn sounds, and as the plane stalls, I continue to pull back on the control wheel. Amazingly, the nose of the airplane drops down just below the critical angle of attack, and the stall horn stops. But, with the continuous back pressure on the control wheel, the nose immediately starts to pitch up and enter another stall. Of course, the stall horn sounds again, and as the stall takes hold, the nose dips below the critical angle of attack yet again. The end result? Without changing any of the controls, the plane repeatedly stalls, then recovers, bobbing forward and back like a leaf gently drifting in the breeze.

The falling leaf stall is a testament to the inherent stability of this aircraft. Of course, we are descending the entire time while performing a falling leaf stall, but the changes in attitude are so gentle and the wind is so steady that I don't even need to change rudder pressure to keep the wings level. It's hard to describe the feeling... How does one describe what it's like to ride a falling leaf?

As we recovered from the falling leaf stall, Tom asked me to practice slow flight. I kept thinking back to what I've learned about rudder pressure, and slow flight is another occasion where right rudder to counter P-Factor and Spiral Slipstream is very, very important. Carb heat on, throttle back to 1,600, maintaining altitude, steadily deploying flaps to 40 degrees, then pushing in the throttle to 2,100 or 2,200 RPMs to maintain nose-up attitude. Stall horn sounds, and I am applying a significant amount of right rudder pressure to keep the plane from yawing to the left.

"Give me a turn to the east," Tom instructs.

We're currently heading to the north, so to point the plane to the east I turn the control wheel slightly to the right for 10 degrees of bank, and apply even more right rudder pressure to keep the turn steady. Reaching the east heading, I levelled the wings and took out enough right rudder pressure to stabilize the yaw.

"Now a turn back to the north," Tom says.

Turning the control wheel slightly to the left for 10 degrees of bank. I'm still putting in right rudder pressure to counter P-Factor and Spiral Slipstream, but to keep the plane turning to the left, I am putting in significantly less right rudder pressure. As we return to the northbound heading, I level the wings and add the necessary amount of right rudder to stabilize the yaw once again.

"Very good," Tom congratulates me. "Let's head over to Bult and do a few more takeoffs and landings."

I'd love to.

Three takeoffs and landings at Bult, and finally, I am consistently adjusting power settings on time. There's a slight crosswind from the right side of the runway, so I need to turn the control wheel slightly to the right to correct for drift, and apply left rudder pressure to keep the nose of the airplane pointed down the centerline. After the third successful landing, Tom asks me to taxi to the fueling area so that we can top off the plane.

After we finished filling up, I began preparations to head back to Midway. But Tom had a suggestion.

"Hey... do you want to do three more solo takeoffs and landings?"

This is it. My chance to prove to myself that my first batch of solo takeoffs and landings was not a fluke.

"Absolutely!" I smile.

Landing #1: Smooth climbout, reached traffic pattern altitude just a little bit late, but turned base and final on time. Correct amount of rudder pressure to land without any sideload on the gear. Loved it.

Landing #2: Another good climbout, but as I climbed above the level of the rooftops a sudden crosswind banked the wings significantly. Used right control wheel to level the wings, turned crosswind and downwind, and reached traffic pattern altitude on time. Turned base too soon, was a little high on final. Touched down a little bit fast, and left of the centerline. Applying brake pressure to slow down, but the brakes are screeching. "Take it easy on the brakes!" Tom warned. I released the brake pressure, and used rudder pressure to get back to the centerline.

Landing #3: The best of all. Traffic pattern uneventful, came down just above the numbers, the stall horn sounded just before I touched down, and I landed right on the centerline. Slid my feet up to the brakes and gently slowed down, then exited the runway smoothly.

I was thrilled. Finally, my landings have become consistent, and I am retaining complete control over the process. As I taxied back to pick up Tom, I actually sang a little song that I felt appropriate for the occasion:

"Back in the saddle again..."

Hopefully not the strangest thing that a pilot has ever done while alone in the cockpit.

Picked up Tom. "Take me home," he said. Gladly.

My wife and I are taking a trip to San Francisco, so I'm going to be taking a break from flying for a week or so. I really think that this lesson was an excellent place to break.

- Airman Eric

07/20/2009 - "I see the town! We'll be there in a few..."

2009-07-24T10:56:00.049-05:00

I've had three lessons since my botched landing at Midway, or as I'll refer to it, my "Midway Mistake." Simply put, I'm making small gains and rebuilding confidence in my landings, but I've reached a plateau. Every time I get something right, something else goes wrong. If I manage to get my airspeed pegged on final and I'm all proud of myself, I suddenly realize that I've turned base too soon and I'm too high. So I concentrate on pegging my altitude just before turning base, but then I wind up turning final too soon, and I'm too high again!

Still fixating on one detail while another detail gets away from me. Need to build up my ability to multitask.

On the bright side, I am finally improving my rudder pressure consistency. On my climbouts, I am consistently applying the correct amount of right rudder pressure, and the turn coordinator ball is centered. This makes my climbouts more stable and more efficient. Of course, I still wrestle with the correct amount of rudder pressure to point the plane's nose down the centerline on final. I am certainly improving, but I'm not quite there yet.

Today, we're taking a break from endless go-arounds to work on a new skill. It's time for my first cross-country!

"Cross-country" doesn't mean that I'm flying across the entire country; it just means that I am departing from one airport and travelling to another one. Before earning my Private Pilot certificate, I will be required to fly a long solo cross-country flight totalling 150 nautical miles, including three takeoffs and landings at a towered field. Today we'll be developing my cross-country skills by taking a trip from Lansing to Rantoul Airport, pictured above.

Every cross-country begins with a flight plan. I'm going to use a VFR sectional to plan my route to Rantoul; it's essentially a map of airport locations and communication freqencies, along with navaids and obvious landmarks that pilots can use to find their way around. First, I use a plotter to draw a line on the sectional between my departure airport and arrival airport, and measure the distance between the two airports to be 75 nautical miles. Correcting my course and ground speed for the forecast winds, I'm going to be holding a heading of 210, and it will take about 45 minutes to reach Rantoul. I'll be climbing to an altitude of 4,500 feet on the way there, and we'll cruise at 3,500 feet on the way back. These altitudes are chosen based on standard VFR cruise altitude rules.

The next step of the flight plan is to pick checkpoints; several groups of specific landmarks that I will use to verify my progress on the route. Tom explained that I must pick easily identifiable landmarks that are next to each other, such as a highway that crosses a road and some railroad tracks along next to a smokestack. Assuming that I am on course, it should be pretty easy to verify when I am overflying this specific checkpoint, at which point I will note the time and guesstimate whether or not I am keeping up with my schedule.

Departing from Lansing, climbing above traffic pattern altitude, turning left to my heading of 210. I've never flown above 3,300 feet or so, and as I climbed past 4,000, the quality of air was remarkable. Cool, sweet smelling, and just slightly misty. At 4,500 feet, we're cruising at an altitude where air pollution can scarcely reach. I was very surprised by how quickly we reached our first checkpoint: an interchange between I-57 and a major east/west road, along with two nearby horse racing tracks and a sizeable radio tower. I marked the time in my cross-country log, and noted that we are have arrived at this checkpoint 3 minutes late when compared to what I predicted. It turns out that I failed to include the time it would take to climb to our cruise altitude; obviously the plane flies a little slower over the ground when a good amount of the thrust is being used to climb.

About 30 minutes into our flight, we were very close to my next checkpoint. Tom, as always, is checking on my thought process and making sure that I'm paying attention to my flight plan.

"So, what is your next checkpoint?" Tom asks.

"The town of Momence, with I-57 bending around it," I respond.

Squinting into the distance. I can see I-57, and I'm looking for the town. Suddenly...

"I see it!" I say. "Do you?"

"I think I do," Tom said, pointing into the distance at a far-away huddled group of buildings and vegetation. "I see the town of Momence. How long until we get there?"

Tom has a good sense of humor, and he loves wordplay. So I threw this one at him:

"We'll be there in a few Momence."

Big laughs. ;)

Within 10 more minutes, I reached my next checkpoint: the town of Paxton. At this point, I'm pretty much following I-57 to Rantoul. It was very easy to pick out the town because I-57 curved around it, but I had a tough time finding Paxton Regional Airport. Just when I was ready to give up scanning for the airport, I suddenly spotted it! Tucked in between several farmer's fields I could see the thin strip of asphalt that is Runway 18/36. Blink and you'll miss it!

My checkpoint over Paxton also represented the start of my descent into Rantoul. Carb heat on, throttle back to 2,100 RPMs, descending to 2,200 feet, which is traffic pattern altitude at Rantoul plus 500 feet. And looking ahead into the distance, at last, we saw the field! Tuned in the AWOS, and the automated weather service is reporting light winds from the west. Tom reminded me to overfly the field and try to get a look at the windsock to verify the wind. Yup, the sock is showing wind from the west, and the sock is barely inflated, indicated light winds. We'll be landing on Runway 27.

Called on the CTAF, reported entering 45 degrees to the left downwind for Runway 27. Didn't hear any traffic at the airport, but remained vigilant for other aircraft. I was a little late turning my downwind for Runway 27, and was cutting my pattern a little close. Once again, I'm wrestling with the traffic pattern and landing. Decided to swing out a little further to ensure that I wouldn't be too high on final, as has been my custom.

Abeam the threshold; 10 degrees of flaps, 80 knots. I've got the airspeed pegged. Turn to base looks good, and I glance out of the left window to see the runway coming closer. I looked straight down at the ground to gauge my speed, then back up to the runway to plan my turn onto the extended centerline. In the past, I've repeatedly made this turn too early, and I didn't want to make that mistake again.

I resisted my initial impulse to turn to final, and continued on base for 2 more seconds. Began the turn, and as the runway appeared, I could see that I was going to roll out perfectly.

"Nice turn to final!" congratulated Tom.

I was determined to avoid my next common error: pulling the throttle to idle too late. I pull the throttle back now, pitch for 65 knots, and within a few seconds the plane's nose is steadily pointing further and further down the runway. Full flaps. Aiming for the numbers.

"This looks good," coaxed Tom. "We're going to land just fine."

Passed over the numbers at about 20 feet. Began the roundout, and the flare for landing. Sinking... gently... not much rudder correction needed, just a little bit of right rudder to point the nose down the centerline. Plenty of runway left. Stall horn sounds, but I'm about five feet above the ground, so I keep the nose-up attitude steady... sinking further... and...

Touchdown! One of my best landings ever!

I am so thankful to Tom for suggesting that we do the cross country today instead of mercilessly doing those landings without much improvement. The change of pace was a perfect way to get my mind out of its rut and get me back on course. And for the first time in more than a week, I landed, and without any of the heebie-jeebies!

Taxied off to the side, took a moment to do checklists and think about my route home. Rest of the ride uneventful. Saw a little bit of light precipitation on the way back from Rantoul, and Tom decided to divert to Midway just in case the precipitation should increase. I saw Bult, then Lansing, and I was able to find my way back to the airport. And with a smooth landing on 4L at Midway, the lesson drew to a close.

Cross-country is a ton of fun. Obviously, the purpose of earning one's private pilot license is so that one can actually go somewhere... Today, I finished my first trip over 50 miles, and I got to smell the sweet air at 4,500 feet.

The landing at Rantoul felt very good; I'm finally getting a feel for the entry into the traffic pattern.

The journey continues.

- Airman Eric

07/16/2009 - "Without a doubt, your confidence was shattered..."

2009-07-24T10:51:00.012-05:00

It's been rough these days.

My mind is still racing with fresh memories of that bad landing at Midway. Tom and I went to Joliet (pictured here; not my photo, unfortunately) to practice takeoffs and landings. As I rolled out to final and saw Runway 30 approaching, my heart crept into my throat and I was overcome by anxiety.

What if I forget to apply rudder pressure again? What if I roll off the side? What if... what if... what if... ???

Runway is getting closer, and I'm too high.

"I'm going around," I declared.

"Go around," Tom responded.

Throttle to full, flaps to 20 degrees, pitching the nose slightly upward for positive rate. Positive rate confirmed; flaps to 10 degrees. Climbing out to traffic pattern altitude, retracting flaps, turning crosswind to come around again.

"I'm not saying that there was anything wrong, but I'm wondering, why did you go around?" asked Tom.

"I was too high," I replied.

"Yeah, you were, but don't forget, you can put the airplane into a slip to lose altitude without losing airspeed," Tom reminded me.

I nodded. Tom had previously told me that by applying rudder pressure I can yaw the nose of the aircraft to the side, thereby increasing drag and helping me lose altitude on final. As I turned downwind for Runway 30, Tom reviewed the procedure.

"Delay your descent to the runway for just a few seconds, so you'll be high on final. Apply full rudder pressure away from the direction of the crosswind and use the control wheel to hold the centerline. You'll be able to lose the extra altitude, and then use the rudder to line up on the centerline just before you flare."

Turning final now. The runway is coming up, and by following Tom's directions, I'm definitely high.

"Good. Put the plane into a slip. The crosswind is coming from the left side of the runway, so add right rudder and move the control wheel to the left."

I followed directions, but I only managed to bank the plane to the left. Now we were definitely left of the centerline, and still too high to make the landing.

"I'm going around," I responded, nervously.

"You can still make this!" Tom said encouragingly. "My plane!"

I relinquished control, pulled my feet from the pedals, and let go of the control wheel. Tom levelled the wings, then banked slightly to the right to get the plane back to the centerline. Tom pushed that right rudder pedal down, and I was shocked by how far he could make the pedal go.

"Wow," I exclaimed.

To my amazement, the nose of the plane pointed about 45 degrees to the right of the centerline, and the extra drag helped us sink. Within seconds, the plane was only 10 feet above the centerline, and I watched as Tom took out the right rudder pressure until the plane pointed straight down the runway. Tom pulled back on the control wheel to flare, and we touched down within the first third of the runway.

I wasn't pushing down the rudder pedal nearly as far as it could go. No wonder I couldn't put the plane into the slip. I'm still battling my mental disconnect from the rudder pedals, and I'm still failing to use enough rudder pressure on a regular basis. Tom and I talked about this, and we came to the obvious conclusion: The rudders are a necessary control surface, and if I fail to use them, I'm going to jeopardize my safety.

Taxied back to Runway 30, and Tom asked me to do a soft field takeoff. Flaps to 10 degrees, pulled the control wheel all the way back as I entered the runway. Throttle to full, keeping the nose wheel off the ground with the back pressure on the control wheel as the plane accelerates. And then...

Just before the plane reached liftoff speed, the nose of the aircraft swung to the left. Now the plane is pointing off the left side of the runway, and the runway edge approached quickly. Runway light poles stuck out of the ground like threatening daggers. Flashbacks of my landing at Midway clouded my brain.

"Eric... Eric! My plane! My plane!"

Unlike the Midway debaucle, this time I did manage to let go of the controls and pull my feet away from the pedals, giving Tom total control. Tom pulled back on the control wheel, lifted the wheels off the ground, and put in a healthy amount of right rudder pressure to yaw the plane away from the runway edge and climb out properly. Within seconds, we were climbing out over the extended centerline. And I knew what had happened.

After the horrible landing at Midway, and the botched slip today, I did it again. I failed to apply rudder pressure, and just as the plane was ready to lift off, P-Factor took ahold of the plane and yawed the aircraft to the left, almost off the runway.

I am completely disgusted with myself.

"I can't believe it," I snarled. "I did it again."

"Were you putting pressure on the right rudder pedal at all?" Tom asked.

"No, I don't think I was."

"Don't do that!" Tom warned. "It's not safe."

I know. How could I forget? And yet I did forget.

As we reached traffic pattern altitude on the downwind for Runway 30, Tom asked me if I wanted the airplane. I reluctantly took control, but as I turned final, I felt nervous and just plain frightened. I felt completely detached from the airplane, and I questioned my ability to land the plane at all. The voice in the back of my head was loud and clear.

"You know what, Tom? I'm just not feeling good right now, and I want to take some time to think about what's happening. I'm ready to be done for the day."

Tom didn't question, or coax, or influence. He simply nodded.

"Let's go back to Midway, then."

I turned to the east, climbed to 1,900 feet.

"I'm suddently terrified to land. And I've already soloed!" I sighed. "What is happening to me?!"

"You're really over-thinking this, Eric. You did solo. And nothing has changed since then. There is no reason why you can't land this plane today."

I nodded, but kept silent. Mind still racing.

"Let's go back. You're going to work through this," Tom said. I appreciate his support.

Contacted Midway, overflew the field for a left traffic entry to Runway 4L. Followed Tom's prompts, step by step, and landed the plane myself. Sloppy, and slightly to the left of the centerline, but the landing was safe. Taxied to parking, shut the plane down, and headed back to the office.

While Tom rang me up, I talked to Bill, the owner of the flight school (pictured at right). I haven't introduced Bill before this point, but I've enjoyed talking to him from the beginning. Bill has a way of making everything sound attainable.

"Without a doubt, your confidence was shattered," Bill said. "The thing to realize is that it's all in your head."

Bill had me stand at one end of the room, and literally hold out my arms as if they were wings, signifying the airplane as it heads for the runway. He demonstrated why the crosswind at Midway pushed me off the centerline, and why I need to use rudder pressure to keep the airplane pointed straight down the runway. He lightly pushed on my left shoulder as I walked across the room, to simulate the crosswind pushing on the plane from the side. I "banked" my arms slightly to the left, countering the "crosswind", and allowing me to land on the centerline of the "runway". I could see why, in a crosswind situation, the plane will actually touch down the wheel on the side the wind is coming from slightly before the wheel on the far side.

I understand the fundamentals behind the control wheel and rudder corrections I need to make when I am on final. It's time to apply the fundamentals and regain my lost landing mojo.

I'll be back in the cockpit ASAP.

- Airman Eric

07/13/2009 - "My plane! My plane!"

2009-07-13T23:53:00.003-05:00

It all started out so well.

I had a nasty, nasty landing at Midway today. I did not take the picture at left, but I've posted it here because this picture pretty much sums up what the Runway 4L looked like as I touched down on it today.

From what I can recall, when I was on final, about 200 feet from the touchdown point, I suddenly had a panic attack. It wasn't caused by anything specific, and there was nothing wrong with the approach I was making. Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I was suddenly afraid that something was wrong with my approach. I can sum it up with the thought, "Something is wrong, and I don't know what it is."

Tom couldn't have known what was happening. For a brief moment, I slid my feet up onto the brakes, which in hindsight is just ridiculous because while the plane is airborne the brakes, of course, do nothing! It was almost as if I reverted to driving skills, and I was trying to slam on the brakes. Within a second, the rational side of my brain took over, and I slid my feet back down to the rudder pedals, where they should be. By this point, I was less than 100 feet above the runway, and over the numbers.

"Right rudder..." Tom warned, noting that I was approaching the runway with the nose pointing to the left of the centerline.

I pushed the right rudder pedal in, and the aircraft pointed down the centerline. Everything looked great.

But that sense of panic still echoed in the back of my mind. And at the worst possible moment, I took that right rudder out, and the nose of the aircraft pointed left of the centerline again.

And I froze.

I didn't turn the control wheel. I didn't move the pedals. I didn't even flare for landing. And the runway edged closer.

"Right rudder!" Tom yelled, but I couldn't move my feet. I watched as the airplane touched down on all three wheels at once, and bounced. A pretty significant sideload acted on us, and our bodies were jerked to the right.

"My plane! My plane!" Tom was adamant. And I was in shock.

I heard Tom's words, and I knew what they meant. But I retained a death grip on the control wheel and I don't think I moved my feet either. The plane settled, roughly, and began rolling toward the left edge of the runway. The runway lights, mounted on pipes that stick 8 inches out of the ground, approached quickly. If we went off the left side of the runway, we would certainly strike one of those lights.

"Let go of the control wheel! My plane!" Tom shouted. This time, I snapped out of my funk, and finally let the wheel go. My mind was spinning as Tom took control of the aircraft, applied right rudder, and turned the airplane back toward the centerline.

I was speechless, and my mind was racing. What the hell was that?

Tom wanted to know the same thing.

"What was that about, Eric? You didn't even flare!" Tom demanded to know.

"I have no idea. I froze." I answered, dejected.

"Do you want to taxi?" Tom asked.

I nodded, and placed my hand on the throttle to taxi back to the tower apron. But in my mind, this experience was far from over.

"I can't believe it. I stopped flying the plane. I panicked, and let the plane fly itself to the runway."

"You looked good until the very end," Tom said, trying to comfort me. "I could see that you were pointing to the left of the centerline, but you put in rudder pressure to correct for it. And then..."

"I took the rudder back out at the last second." I admitted.

I'm going to need some time to think about this. Tom pointed out that while the landing was rough, no harm was done. But all I can think about is that I've already soloed, and I am horrified at myself for letting the plane land so haphazardly. Why didn't I go around?

The lesson I carried away is simple; if a landing looks bad, go around. I have no explanation for where the panic attack came from. But I know that if I ever feel that way again, I won't hesitate to go around.

Moving forward from this bad landing with the goal of many good ones. Staying positive.

- Airman Eric

07/09/2009 - "Now we shall call you Captain Solo."

2009-07-12T07:11:00.006-05:00

Soloed for the first time today! Three takeoffs and landings in Cessna 172NT at KIGQ (Lansing), runway 9.

After Tom and I worked on emergency procedures and no-flap landings, he asked me to taxi to the parking area. When I arrived there, Tom got out of the plane, told me to do three takeoffs and landings to a full stop, all by myself. He carried his VHF radio with him so he could talk to me and coach me from the ground if need be.

Taxied to the threshold behind another Cessna Skyhawk. He departed, remaining in the pattern. As soon as he rolled, I taxied into position on the runway, calling the CTAF to announce my departure. Tom cautioned me on the radio, "Don't go yet! Wait a little bit!" I watched as the plane before me turned crosswind, and then I rolled.

Smooth takeoff and climb into the pattern, watched the Skyhawk turn downwind. 500 AGL; turned crosswind. Looked off my left wing to watch the Cessna continue on downwind. Kept climbing to traffic pattern altitude, turned downwind as the Cessna turned base. Pulled the carb heat out, pulled the throttle back to 2,000 RPMs, 80 knots, kept an eye on the runway to my left. My distance from the runway is good. Crossed abeam the threshold, pulled back to 1,600 RPMs, 10 degrees of flaps, 70 knots. Waited until the Cessna in the pattern went by on final. Turned base, 20 degrees of flaps, keeping one eye on the Cessna and one eye on my altitude. Turned final as the Cessna touched down on the runway, watched as he rolled about 1000 feet and exited left. Now it's all up to me.

Height above the runway is good; I pull the throttle to idle and pitch down for the runway at 70 knots. Descent still looks good. Full flaps, 65 knots, and I start dropping down to the runway. Suddenly, I seem to be aiming past the numbers. I've got plenty of runway, so I hold my speed and pass about 30 feet above the numbers. Continued down to the surface, flared just above the ground, slowed down. Applied a little right rudder pressure to keep the plane aimed down the centerline. Nose pitched higher and higher, and it seemed to take forever. Then, finally, I heard the squeak of the tires as I touched down. A little bit to the left of the centerline, and touched down about 300 feet past where I would have liked, but I was down smoothly. Landing #1 complete.

Carb heat in, flaps up. My Cessna buddy in the pattern has decided to taxi to parking, leaving me the the opportunity to use the runway all by myself. Taxied back to the runway threshold and got ready for pattern #2.

A little bit of a crosswind developing as I taxi into position. Applied a little bit of right aileron to ensure that I will stay on the centerline after liftoff. Good takeoff roll and climbout at 75 knots. My crosswind turn and downwind turn were terrific; reached pattern altitude at exactly the right time. Carb heat out, throttle to 2,000 RPMs. A little bit of crab into the wind to fly parallel to the runway. Crossed abeam the threshold, 1,600 RPMs, 10 degrees of flaps. Kept an eye out for the 45 degrees to final, turned base, 20 degrees of flaps. Trying to hold 70 knots, pulled back too much too long, and suddenly looked down to see 60 knots. Pitched the nose forward, increased the speed to 70 knots again. Turned final too soon, which I seem to do quite often. Rounded out of the turn slowly to increase my turn radius and line back up on the centerline. Finally found the centerline, pulled the throttle to idle, and began to pitch down for the runway. Speed is increasing too much, and the descent angle isn't steep enough. Pull back for 65 knots, and it helps me sink, but I pass over the numbers higher than I did the first time. Leveled off just above the runway, and started to pull back for flare. Suddenly, I floated in the ground effect. Airspeed too slow; flaring too high. Pitched the nose forward to stabilize the airspeed, but now I'm to the left of the centerline. The approach angle in relation to the centerline isn't bad; just sloppy. Flared again, this time I had slowed down enough, and touched down. Not quite turned parallel to the runway, and the plane rocked a little as I landed with the nose pointed about 5 degrees to the left. Slowed, taxied off to the left. Landing #2 was messy; I need to do better.

Taxiing back to the runway for my last go around, and performed the after-landing checklist. Carb heat in, flaps retract. And I suddenly realized why my landing was strange. I had forgotten to put down my last 20 degrees of flaps on final, and I was flaring as if I had all 40 degrees of flaps extended. No wonder why it took me so long to slow down, and why I ballooned as I pulled back. If I hadn't flared so hard and allowed the airspeed to bleed off naturally, the landing would have been perfect. Well, I've got one more chance to get this right!

Climbed into the pattern for my third time. As I turned crosswind, I heard a King Air pilot call up; he's 12 miles out for runway 9. I reported my position on left crosswind for Runway 9, and he called back, "We'll be looking for you, King Air ###XX." Climbed to pattern altitude, RPMs to 2,000, held altitude at 80 knots. Called left downwind on the CTAF, and the King Air told me he was 8 miles out. Passed abeam the runway threshold, throttle to 1,600, flaps 10 degrees, looking for that King Air in the distance, but I couldn't see him. Reported turning base; King Air called 6 mile final for Runway 9. Flaps 20, 70 knots; holding my heading and airspeed very well this time. Vowed that I would NOT mess up this turn to final. The extended runway centerline is coming up, and my sight picture for the runway looks good. Turned final, called it in, and thankfully the King Air called back, "Lansing Traffic, King Air ###XX 4 mile final for Runway 9, we have you in sight and we'll be well behind you."

Good. Now all I have to do is land.

Pulled the throttle to idle, watched the nose pitch down, and I instantly knew that my altitude was good. Full flaps. Pitched down, aiming right at the numbers. Keeping it on the centerline. A little bit of control wheel to the right to compensate for that crosswind from the south. Levelled out just above the ground, coming out of the crab, but a little too much left rudder and now I'm to the left of the centerline again. Right rudder to straighten out the airplane, and a gentle flare. Wheels touched down, parallel to the runway, but left of the centerline. Applied brakes, slowed down, exited to the left, and reported clear. The King Air pilot responded, "Lansing traffic, thanks for that, King Air ###XX short final Runway 9, Lansing."

Turned left on the taxiway and looked up to see the very large King Air on final. I have no idea why in the world I was unable to see such a huge plane!

As the King Air rolled by, I reached the parking area, and met up with Tom. He congratuled me on my first solo, pointed out that my first landing was good but that I flared too far down the runway. He told me that my second landing was just plain scary, and that he wished I had gone around. And, as I expected, he complimented me for flaring sooner on my third landing, but complained that I was off the centerline. To my surprise, Tom told me that I should be flaring even sooner! I need to use very foot of runway that I can. I shouldn't be aiming for the numbers on final; I should be aiming at the grass before the threshold and I should be flaring over the numbers!

Today was a good day. 0.2 hours of PIC time in the logbook. My landings today were far from perfect; but I have time to work on my technique. The most important message I carried away today was a simple fact: I can do this by myself!

On a side note... I mentioned on my Facebook page that I soloed for the first time, and my buddy Jim responded with an awesome Star Wars reference, "Then we shall call you Captain Solo!"

Thanks, Jim. I'll make sure that my mechanic keeps the hyperdrive in good repair!

- Airman Eric

07/06/2009 - "I'm not saying anything!"

2009-07-06T16:57:00.003-05:00

On departure today, we were assigned Runway 4R. Normally, we've been given 4L for departure, but today I'm going to be departing from the same runway that the big jets use.

I taxied behind this Southwest 737, and it was pretty neat to be close behind such a large plane. Snapped a quick photo to commemorate the event.

Tom is very quiet. I took off, turned right to a heading of 180, and climbed to cruise without a word from Tom.

Tom told me to head south until we passed Bult Field. We began work on simulated emergencies; in other words, we practiced procedures that I will use in the event of an engine failure. Tom taught me "A, B, C", which means "Airspeed, Best Field, Checklist."

* Airspeed - As soon as the engine fails, I must immediately reach a best glide speed of 65 knots. The plane is going to slow down quickly, and before I can worry about restarting the engine, I have to set the plane up to cover the most ground distance while losing the least amount of altitude.

* Best Field - After trimming for 65 knots, I must search for a closeby open field that will permit an emergency landing. I am searching for a wide open space without power lines or any other obstructions. And it is helpful to do the emergency landing into the wind if at all possible. Once I have chosen a suitable field, I must begin circling that field with the intention of setting up to land on it.

* Checklist - The Emergency Checklist first concentrates on restarting the engine, and if the engine is not able to be restarted, the checklist requires me to turn off the fuel supply and prepare for the emergency landing. This includes tightening the seatbelts as securely as possible, and once landing is assured, unlatching the door so that if the plane is damaged in the emergency landing and the door frame bends, I will still be able to get out.

It's a little unnerving to practice emergencies, because Tom will suddenly pull the throttle to idle and I need to react. The most important thing that I learned about emergencies is that I have more time to set up for the emergency landing than I thought I would. If my engine fails at 3,000 feet, I'll probably have five minutes of airtime to pick an emergency landing field, troubleshoot the problem, and even call in the emergency to the emergency frequency, 121.5.

Tom told me to head to Bult. I turned to the north, and had trouble getting my bearings for a few minutes. Tom was once again very quiet. At last, I saw the field, and asked Tom if I should overfly the field at 2,300 feet to view the windsock. Once again, Tom didn't answer me.

"Eric, you need to start performing these transitions on your own. I'm planning on soloing you soon. I'm not saying anything!"

I smiled. Tom's right. If I rely on him to tell me what to do, I will never be able to do it on my own. I'm going to stop asking questions about things that I already know the answer to, and I'm going to concentrate on doing them.

Moving on to soft field takeoffs and landings. Still very unnerving. I have to constantly remind myself to trim the airplane for the soft field takeoff to relieve the control pressure that results from 10 degrees of flaps. And I must also constantly remind myself to apply right rudder on takeoff roll and climbout. Getting better at the soft field takeoff, but still having difficulty with the soft field landing. The approach is the same as a regular landing, but in the flare I must push in the throttle to about 1,400 RPMs to permit the nose gear to softly touch down in the grass. Again, the goal for a soft field landing is to protect the nose wheel and prevent it from bogging down in mud or in a puddle. I haven't developed the muscle memory for the soft field landing; it will come with time.

At last, I'm improving on holding airspeed in the traffic pattern, and I'm getting used to letting the runway come to me. Still rolling out to final too soon, and I repeatedly track left of the centerline. I was pretty lucky with the wind today, and the nose of the plane stayed pretty well lined up with the runway direction. I'm experimenting with the rudder, and I think I'm improving. Although today I did have one approach where I was too far to the left of the centerline and I had to go around.

In the end, I performed several landings by myself. None of them were perfect, and I still keep touching down to the left of the centerline. But I am improving.

- Airman Eric

06/30/2009 - "When I say right rudder, I mean right rudder!"

2009-06-30T18:44:00.004-05:00

Pictured at left: N739AG. This is a nice plane! Leather and cloth interior, very clean, well-cared-for instrument panel. Tom tells me that this is the plane I will be taking my checkride in. Looking forward to it.

I snapped a quick shot of Tom before starting my preflight. I call this his "instructor headshot". Be sure to appreciate the leather and cloth interior of this plane, because I sure do!

Still battling my bad flight sim habits as I work on takeoffs and landings today. It takes every bit of my concentration to keep from pitching the nose down too far and increasing the airspeed. I constantly remind myself... Let the runway come to me... But as soon as I focus my mind on other parts of the landing, like making my turn on time, the nose starts to dip. Today, I focused on using trim to prevent the nose from dipping too much. But airspeed is not my only problem.

Holding the centerline on final is still difficult for me. I continue to drift to the left of the centerline. Tom is patient with me, and reminds me that I'm drifting, but at this point he must feel like a broken record.

"Use the control wheel to control your drift. Use the rudder to control which way the nose is pointing."

Boy, am I having trouble using the rudder on final.

"Right rudder! Right rudder!" Tom warns as I flare for landing.

I apply some right rudder, but it's never enough. The plane lands slightly crooked, and I feel that side load on the landing gear again.

"When I say right rudder, I mean right rudder!" Tom is emphatic, but he never gets frustrated. Nerves of steel, this guy.

Continuing to work on soft field takeoffs, and it is very unnerving. I am simulating taking off from a grass field. I am required to pull back on the control wheel in the takeoff roll, thereby lifting the nose wheel off the ground as I roll. This is necessary because the nose wheel is susceptible to bogging down when it is rolling on grass if the grass is wet. Hitting a muddy patch on takeoff roll could result in a terrible accident. Then, once the plane finally lifts off, I am required to push the control wheel forward to stay level with the ground about 20 feet off the ground, still within ground effect which helps the plane stay aloft, until I reach the climbout speed of 75 knots, and then I must pull back and climb out as normal.

The scariest part of this maneuver is immediately after liftoff. The ground seems so close, and I'm trying to accelerate over the ground without descending into it. The soft field takeoff is done with 10 degrees of flaps, and the plane really wants to climb. It takes a lot of strength to push the control wheel forward and stay in ground effect. Tom reminds me to apply nose-down trim so that I don't have to push forward so hard on the control wheel, but it makes me nervous. I know what Tom wants me to do, but once in a while I need extra time to wrap my head around his instructions.

When I'm practicing short field takeoffs, I'm trying to use the shortest amount of runway in my takeoff roll. When I enter the runway, I am required to taxi backwards slightly so that my takeoff roll starts as far back as possible. Once I am on the centerline, I apply full brakes and push the throttle to full, then release the brakes to start my roll, which permits me to accelerate more quickly. When I reach 55 knots, I pull back on the control wheel to pitch the nose up and climb out at only 60 knots. This is Vx, or the speed that permits the best angle of climb, and allows me to more effectively clear an obstacle which might be at the end of the runway. Once I am 50 feet above the ground, I pitch the nose forward for the regular climbout speed of 75 knots.

For both soft field and short field takeoffs, the wing's angle of attack is higher than normal. I must apply a healthy amount of right rudder to counteract P-Factor, torque and gyroscopic precession. Again, Tom reminded me a couple times to apply more right rudder. I know what I must do, and now I simply have to do it.

Continuing to learn. Each lesson offers a small victory.

- Airman Eric

06/28/2009 - "... you'll bounce down the runway like a big rubber ball."

2009-06-26T19:55:00.003-05:00

I love hanging out at the airport because there are always interesting aircraft that pop up from time to time. Today, as I was preflighting N172NT, two A-10 Thunderbird Warthogs landed on 4R and parked near the Signature FBO. I think they're getting ready for the Chicago Air Show in a couple weeks. Snapped a quick, discrete photo for posterity.

There is an old aviation adage: "Takeoffs are optional. Landings are mandatory." Today's lesson completely focused on learning how to fly the traffic pattern and land correctly, with accuracy and precision.

We did about a dozen takeoffs and landings at Lansing (IGQ). I'm starting to get a feel for the traffic pattern, but I still have trouble gauging my altitude as I turn base and final. I continue to instinctively push the nose down too much, increasing my airspeed to 80 or even 85 knots. Today, Tom told me at least half a dozen times to keep my airspeed at 70 knots when descending in the pattern.

Here's the issue: I'm definitely battling something subconscious, and I'm pretty sure it's a bad flight simulator habit. For two years I have been making approaches to runways in Flight Simulator with about 50% power, by maintaining level flight until the VASI shows that I am on the glideslope, and then descending at 500 feet per minute until reaching the runway threshold. The end result of approaching the runway like this is that the nose points downward at the runway very early in the approach, and the approach begins very far back.

Tom needs me to approach the runway by overflying the field and entering the traffic pattern from 45 degrees off the downwind leg. He tells me to maintain traffic pattern altitude at 80 knots, 2,000 RPMs, until abeam the touchdown point. From this point, I must descend at 70 knots, turn base, turn final, and then pull back to 65 knots once I have the field made. The end result of approaching the runway the way Tom tells me to is that the nose does not point at the runway threshold until I am on final. It also permits me to always be within gliding distance of the runway. If I suddenly lost the engine, I would still be able to reach the runway.

During almost every approach I made today, I pitched the nose down too much in an effort to keep it pointed at the runway. What I am actually doing is increasing my airspeed, generating more lift, and actually making it more difficult to descend!

"What airspeed do you want?" Tom asks.

I look down at the airspeed indicator. Yep; 80 knots again.

"70 knots." I respond.

I turn base, pulling the nose up, keeping an eye on the airspeed indicator to ensure 70 knots.

The runway is coming up. Time to turn to final. I begin the turn.

"You're turning too early. You want a 30-degree standard turn, and you want to come out of the turn on the extended runway centerline."

I level out early, closing the distance between my ground track and the extended centerline. Then, deja vu.

"What airspeed do you want, Eric?"

I look down at the airspeed indicator. 80 knots again! I'm pitching the nose down too much, too soon!

"70 knots," I respond. And then I look forward at the runway. It's coming up fast. A few seconds have gone by, and I still haven't corrected my airspeed.

"Get to 70 knots, Eric. You're too fast."

I pull the nose back, the airplane begins to slow down, but now the nose of the airplane is pointing way far down the runway. Am I really going to sink to meet the runway in time!?

"Use the control wheel to stay on the centerline. It should look like it's hitting you right in the nose. Pull the throttle to idle and hold 65 knots."

I follow instructions. Still there is so much going on. I'm concentrating on holding the airspeed, and I'm doing that pretty well, but now the centerline is getting away from me. The nose of the airplane is pointing slightly to the left of the runway centerline. But on the bright side, suddenly the descent seems to change. I'm holding 65 knots with the nose pitched downward at the runway, and at last I seem to be descending properly.

Over the runway threshold now. Pulling back slowly to flare for landing, but the nose is still pointing to the left of the centerline.

"Right rudder! Right rudder!" Tom exclaims.

Again, my feet freeze. If I did manage to put in some right rudder, it definitely wasn't enough. We touched down left of the centerline with the airplane pointing slightly to the left. When the wheels touched, I felt my body lurch to the right. Not hard, but it definitely was a sloppy landing. To make matters worse, once I touched down, the plane continued to roll slightly away from the centerline.

"Get back to the centerline. Right rudder," Tom advised.

I slowly made my way back to the centerline, and exited the runway.

"You can't let your airspeed increase, Eric. If you try to land too fast, you'll use up more runway, and you'll have trouble bleeding off airspeed in the flare. You might even float above the runway and lose sight of it, which would be very dangerous. Or, if you do manage to touch down but you're too fast, the ground effect will generate extra lift, and you'll bounce down the runway like a big rubber ball."

I explained to Tom that I know I need to keep my airspeed undercontrol, but I'm battling a subconscious need to point the aircraft at the runway too soon.

"The plane actually descends better at slower airspeed. If you keep your speed at 70 knots in the pattern, you will lose more altitude than if you point the nose down. Let the runway come to you. And you need to use rudder to line the airplane up with the centerline. When something is wrong, don't accept it. Fix it!"

As for failing to put in rudder in the flare, I need to work on that. I'm battling some sort of psychological fear of the rudders. And it's not just on final; I've forgotten to use right rudder to correct for P-Factor in climbing situations as well as slow flight, and I have forgotten to use the rudder in standard turns. I can do serious damage to the airplane if I fail to get in touch with the rudders, and use them effectively.

After a dozen landings today, I still have issues to work out. And I'll work through them, step by step.

Until then...

- Airman Eric

06/25/2009 - "Lookin' out for Goofballs and Yahoos..."

2009-06-25T21:01:00.002-05:00

I love the calm after the storm.

For the moment, the atmosphere has shed all of its fury. Calm wind, low humidity, sunshine, and only a few puffy stratus clouds at 6,000+ feet. Today we're going to continue work with slow flight, power-on and power-off stalls, and a whole lotta takeoffs and landings at Bult Field.

We're taking N172NT today. Preflight uneventful. Construction continues on the field, and the closures are significant. When I called up the ATIS today, I made a list of the taxiway and runway closures due to construction: "Runway 31R/13L closed. Runway 31L/13R closed. Taxiway F closed between Y and P. Taxiway K closed between 31C and Y. Taxiway F2 closed. Taxiway F3 closed." We still need to taxi all the way around the tower apron just to be able to get to taxiway K and make our way over to runway 4L.

Good takeoff, climbout and right turn to 180. Becoming better at pegging my altitude and trimming for level flight, although I still occasionally have trouble holding the altitude. Every time I think I'm trimmed for level flight, I start to pay attention to something else in the aircraft, and within seconds, I've lost almost 100 feet. Tom has said that I play with the trim wheel too much, and I seem to be using it to fly the airplane. I am constantly wrestling with this. Tom tells me that the best way to hold level flight is to point the plane to the attitude for level flight, then trim off the control wheel pressure, and let go. I just can't seem to find the trim wheel setting that works; at least not on a consistent basis. And little cross winds that bank the wings make me afraid to let go of the wheel altogether. I guess that for now, my ability to hold level flight still feels like it takes too much effort.

Continued practicing slow flight and power-on/power-off stalls. I'm getting better at holding my heading during slow flight, although I have difficulty keeping my attitude steady. I am also improving my stall recoveries, although I instinctively try to recover before the stalls fully develop. I suppose it's good that my reflexes work to prevent the stalls, but since the examiner is going to want me to recover from full stalls, I have to let the stall develop, and then recover as soon as it happens. Still a work in progress.

Before long, Bult Field is in sight. Today, we begin landing practice. First, Tom instructed me to fly over the field at 2,300 feet and look at each end of the runway for the windsocks. I transmitted on the CTAF, 123.00: "Bult Traffic, Cessna 172NT, four miles to the south, we're going to overfly the field at 2,300, Bult."

Looked down at the threshold of 27, and I could see the windsock indicating winds directly from the west.

"Okay," Tom directed, "we're going to fly out to the southwest for a little bit, until we can turn to enter the downwind leg at a 45 degree angle. That's where other pilots are expecting planes to enter the pattern."

We turned to the southwest and I began to descend, scanning the sky for traffic. The CTAF crackles to life every now and then, but they are destined for other nearby fields who also use 123.0 to declare intentions. No one is inbound for Bult; at least, no one has called in.

"We've descended far enough. Turn right 180 degrees and head back to the runway."

Began the turn; still having trouble holding desired altitude. I dipped below 1,800, then added some throttle and climbed back up to 1,800 again. Held what I thought was a good attitude for 1,800 feet, and then I looked down and saw that I was sinking again! A little bit of nose-up trim, and pulled back on the control wheel slightly. The runway is looming ahead quickly.

"Turn to the right, parallel to the runway," Tom commands. "Throttle back to 2,000 RPMs."

I make the turn, pull the throttle back. I look to the left and try to stay parallel to the runway. Suddenly, Tom says, "Don't descend in the pattern."

I look down, and I've descended to 1,700 feet again. I forgot to adjust the trim when I pulled the throttle back to 2,000. The plane continues to take me by surprise.

Passing abeam the runway threshold, Tom says, "Pull the throttle back to 1,600. Add 10 degrees of flaps. Trim for 70 knots."

Trying to follow directions, but I keep pitching the nose down too far, descending too fast, and pushing the airspeed too high.

"Turn left 90 degrees for base. Pull back. You want 70 knots."

Everything is happening so fast. I pull back, and concentrate on keeping the airspeed. Then I look up, and see the runway coming up. I start to think about when to turn.

"Don't add any more flaps. We're too low. 70 knots!"

I look down at the airspeed indicator, and see that I am getting up to 80 knots again. I know that I have to control the airspeed with the pitch of the airplane, and that I am pushing the nose down too far. But I'm overwhelmed. How far should I pull back? What if I pull back too far?

"Extend the runway centerline towards us. You want to line up right on the center. Turn left now."

I bank the wings, too shallow, and overshoot the runway centerline.

"You're too far to the right of the runway. Bank the wings. Turn the control wheel to the left. We're too low. Push in the throttle a little. Pull back."

So much to do!

Within seconds, I'm to the left of the centerline. Tom tells me to bank the wings to the right.

"The centerline of the runway should look like it's hitting you in the nose. The centerline should be straight up and down."

Trying to hold it. Turning the control wheel all over the place.

"Pull out the throttle."

I hesitate. It's not like I don't trust Tom... I'm just overwhelmed by the whole experience. And some part my brain says, "Don't do that! You'll crash."

"Pull out the throttle. All the way," Tom commands.

I pull the throttle out to idle. The nose pitches downward, and the runway is getting close.

"Full flaps," Tom orders.

Flaps all the way down. The nose pitches down even more, and the runway is coming up at us very quickly. Tom's right hand hovers over his control wheel, ready to take control at any moment.

"This is good," Tom comments. "Hold this attitude."

But, I thought, the runway is coming up so fast!

Within 20 feet of the runway now, and we're pitched down straight at it. I feel like we're going to crash into it. I instinctively pull back on the control wheel; too much, and too soon.

"Don't pull back!" chides Tom. "Let the plane..."

No time to talk. We balloon in the air, 15 feet over the runway. Too high and too slow!

"I'm going to help you with this," Tom says. I know what that means, I smile.

Tom pushes forward slightly, bringing the runway even closer. He pulls back the control wheel to flare, but I am slow to follow him.

"Right rudder. Right rudder!" Tom commands. My right foot freezes in place. I felt panicked, and I couldn't move. I confess; I didn't push down on that foot pedal.

The wheels touch down with the nose of the plane pointing to the left of the centerline. Instantly, my body lurches to the right as a side load is placed on the landing gear. The nose gear comes down, and Tom pushes down the right rudder to help us get back on the centerline.

"Apply brakes," Tom says. I do so, and the plane begins to slow down as the centerline comes back to us. I see a taxiway approaching, but we are too fast to make it.

"Go to the next taxiway. Slow down."

Finally, we slow down enough to turn left at the next taxiway. I breathe a sigh of relief. Tom breathes a sigh of frustration... Well, maybe not frustration. I guess it was the sigh of a man who has a lot of work to do.

"Use the control wheel to line up with the runway centerline, and use the rudder to point the plane straight down the runway. You landed with the nose pointed to the left, which put a side load on the landing gear. You also need to descend at a steady airspeed of 70 knots. You were up to 80 knots a couple times, which brought us down too low. Don't chase the airplane. Make it do what you want it to do."

We rolled completely clear of the runway, and I turned to the left.

"After landing checklist," requested Tom. "Carb heat in, flaps up. Report on the radio that you are clear of the runway."

Followed directions. Transmitted on the CTAF, "Bult Traffic, Cessna 172NT clear of runway 27, Bult."

"Remember, too," warned Tom, "Fly the airplane first, talk on the radio second. You should only talk on the radio during straight flight. Don't talk on the radio in the turns."

We taxied to the threshold of runway 27. Tom asked me to stop before turning to face the runway completely.

"You want to stop at a 45 degree angle to the runway hold short line. This way, you can see any goofballs that are coming in for final without calling on the radio first."

I laughed. "What kind of a yahoo is going to approach the airport without calling?"

"It happens all the time!" chucked Tom. "Calling on the radio isn't required. It's a courtesy. And you're going to see that not all pilots are as courteous as they should be."

"Just like driving on the highway," I responded.

"Yup. There are bad pilots just like there are bad drivers."

We get ready to go around again. Performed Lights, Camera, Action. This is simply a quick flow check to catch any irregularities before taking off again:

"Lights" - Make sure that the beacon is on and that any necessary lights are working.
"Camera" - Make sure the transponder is on, and squawking the correct code.
"Action" - Beginning with the trim wheel, I make sure that all of the instruments and other settings are correct for takeoff. Takeoff trim; fuel mixture from both tanks; flaps up; mixture rich; throttle to 1,000; carb heat in; circuit breakers on, amp gauge centered; oil pressure in the green; fuel sufficient; suction gauge in the green; heading indicator correct; altimeter set; ADF set to wind direction.

Performed all of the checks. Everything looks good.

"Now, scan the approach area to make sure that no one is coming," Tom reminds me.

I scan the skies above. "Lookin' out for Goofballs and Yahoos," I reply.

Tom laughs. Sometimes I'm funny.

Performed 8 more takeoffs and landings at Bult. Just when I started to control my altitude better, I started having problems with the airspeed. It seemed that I turned to final too soon every single time. Tom was constantly reminding me to pull back on the control wheel because I was descending to the runway too quickly. I repeatedly rolled out left of the centerline, and had to bank to the right to chase it. And although I started becoming more comfortable with flaring, I repeatedly failed to apply enough right rudder pressure to aim the plane parallel with the runway.

"Okay, it's almost time to head back. Let's taxi to the fuel area. You need to learn how to fill up the tanks so you'll be prepared for your cross country flights."

We taxied to the ramp, and pulled up alongside a large AVGAS 100LL tank. The tank accepted credit cards and cash. Tom used his company credit, and I bought a much needed Pepsi from a vending machine on the field.

Before filling up, Tom showed me how to ground the airplane using a cable that connects to the tank and dissipates any static electricity that might cause a spark during fillup. And with the exception of the enormous length of the hose, the gas nozzle was very similar to any nozzle I have ever used to fill up the gas tank in my car. Tom brought out a ladder, and I climbed up to get at the fuel tanks in the top of each wing. I asked Tom to take a quick picture of me as I prepared to fill up the left tank (shown above). My first fill-up; another personal aviation milestone.

Took off from Bult, headed in to Midway; the rest of the lesson was uneventful. I overflew the field for runway 4L, stayed too high for too long in the pattern, and had some trouble pitching down for the runway on final. Touched down about 500 feet further back than Tom wanted me to, and still put it down to the left of the centerline with some minor side load on the landing gear. This whole landing thing is going to take some getting used to.

Next lesson, we're going to continue with many, many landings. Practice makes perfect.

- Airman Eric

06/24/2009 - "That was scary..."

2009-06-24T15:03:00.029-05:00

Checked the Terminal Area Forecast, and the weather looks good today. Nothing on radar, steady winds, smooth air. It's quite warm and humid today, and sweat is dripping off the end of my nose as I conduct pre-flight for good ol' 737ME. We don't have any air conditioning in this plane! There are vents which let in a good amount of air when the plane is in motion, and we can unlatch the windows to let in some air when we are taxiing on the ground, but for the moment, we are sitting in an oven with wings!

We're going to continue practicing slow flight, as well as power-off and power-on stalls. For the rest of the lesson, we will concentrate on landings and takeoffs at Bult Field.

Preflight, departure clearance, engine run-up uneventful. They've closed off taxiway F, so we need to taxi all the way to the other side of the tower apron before we can call ground for our taxi clearance. Luckily, Midway is departing from the 4's today, the thresholds of which are just off the tower apron, making for a short, smooth taxi to runway 4L.

Smooth climbout, a right turn to 180, flew clear of MDW's airspace, and began maneuvers.

First up: slow flight. While it is still tricky to hold my heading and altitude while flying at 40 knots with flaps fully extended, I must say that I am improving. I'm getting the hang of changing my heading by using varying amounts of rudder pressure and very little bank. Still, the nose-up attitude required for slow flight is somewhat unnerving. I'm going to need to continue practicing slow flight, although I am having an easier time applying the proper amount of rudder pressure when I pull my seat far enough forward before starting the engine.

Recovered from slow flight, and looked to the north to see a steadily thickening gray haze which seemed to begin at the lakefront and continue westbound for a few miles. At first, this haze didn't seem to be different than any other hazy conditions when we have seen before, but Tom commented that the haze seemed to be thickening. It seemed to be a very localized haze, which caused Tom to wonder if some sort of storm activity was developing. And yet, I remembered that there was nothing on the forecast. Surely, if a thunderstorm were brewing, we would have some warning!

Moved on to power-off stalls. I pulled out the carb heat, pulled the throttle back to 1,600 RPMs, steadily extended flaps to full, pulled the throttle to idle, then pulled back to simulate clearing an obstacle near the runway. Continued pulling back to cause a stall, and as soon as the stall began, pushed forward slightly on the control wheel to resume normal flight, pushed the throttle to full, pushed in the carb heat, retracted flaps to 20 degrees, held slow flight attitude until the airspeed began to increase, and retracted the flaps completely once the airspeed rose above 65 knots.

Two things I need to improve here. First, I was taking too long to set up for the stall. I need to remember that I am not conducting a full landing, so I don't need to take more than a couple seconds between each flap setting as I am getting ready for the stall. Today, Tom reminded me a couple times that I shouldn't lose so much altitude when I am setting up for a power-off stall. Second, I need to be much gentler with my control wheel movements, both before and after the stall. On my first stall today, I pushed forward too much on the control wheel and pushed the airplane almost straight down! On another maneuver, I tried to pull back too soon after the recovery, and created a secondary stall. The secret to stall recoveries is to limit myself to gentle control movements. Control surfaces are very effective, and I cannot underestimate the effects that my control motions have on the aircraft.

Turned toward Bult Field (C56). It's a quiet airstrip about 25 miles to the south of Midway, with just one runway: 9/27. We transmitted on the Common Terminal Advisory Frequency, 123.000, that we intended to overfly the field at 2,300 feet. I snapped a quick photograph as we approached from the west (shown here to the right). There is no automated weather information at this tiny field, but at the foot of each end of the runway, there is a windsock. As the wind blows across the surface, it turns the windsock, and pilots can look at it from the air to determine the wind direction, which aids us in our runway selection. We could tell that the wind was coming from the west today, which means we are going to be using runway 27 because we want to land facing into the wind.

Descended to traffic pattern altitude, which at this airport is 1,800 feet. Called entering downwind on the CTAF, pulled out the carb heat, and pulled the throttle back to 2,000 RPMs; trimmed for 80 knots. Tom coached me through each leg of the traffic pattern. When we were abeam the runway threshold, I pulled the throttle back to 1,600 and extended 10 degrees of flaps. Turned base, but lost too much altitude in the turn. Tom reminded me that I must pull back on the control wheel slightly when I am turning because some of the lift is spent to turn the airplane. As I turned final, I turned too early, and now because I lost so much altitude on my base leg I was also too low. Tom told me to apply a little bit of throttle to hold my altitude, and I overshot the runway centerline two times before lining up on it. At last, I was close enough to the runway to ensure that I would make it, so with Tom's blessing, I pulled the throttle to idle and extended 20 degrees of flaps. Flared too early, pitched the nose downward, then pulled back to flare, but landed all three wheels at the same time. Failed to use rudder to straighten out the plane, and put a bit of a side load on the landing gear as well. Tom wasn't happy.

"Don't lose so much altitude in the pattern. Avoid pitching down so much in the turns. Let the airplane get closer to the runway before flaring. You want the nose pointed into the air as you touch down so that all of the load goes to the main landing gear, and you have to use some right rudder to straighten the airplane out on the centerline or the side load can cause a blow out. Otherwise, good landing."

In addition to the gift of understatement, Tom possesses the gift of back-handed compliments. Ha.

We taxied off of the runway, and I called on the CTAF to tell any other pilots in the area that I was clear of runway 27. Performed the after-landing checklist, or as I'll call it, I cleaned up the airplane. No, this doesn't mean that I picked up trash in the cockpit, although it is a good idea to do that before leaving the aircraft. "Cleaning up the airplane" simply means that I pushed the carb heat in and retracted the flaps so that the airplane will be ready for takeoff. I taxied back toward runway 27, getting ready to go again.

And then, Tom and I both saw it. The grey haze we saw earlier had now grown to a dark, ominous sheet of black mist. From our vantage point, the localized cloud was 6 or 7 miles away, and it was difficult to tell if it was producing rain or not.

"Wow! Where in the world did that come from!?" Tom gasped.

"Do you think that's a rain storm?" I wondered.

"We'll get a better look at it from the air, but I can tell you right now that it doesn't look good."

Called on the CTAF to announce our intentions to take off from runway 27, punched the throttle to full, and climbed out at 75 knots.

"Turn to the north," Tom directed, his eyes fixated on the dark grey clouds.

I banked to the north, and stared at the storm cell in the distance.

"Wow!" exclaimed Tom. "That's rain, alright. And a lot of it."

I instantly realized that this was definitely a strong storm, and that it had popped up out of nowhere. I have seen hundreds of storms in my lifetime, but only from the ground. When you're watching a rainstorm from the air, it's like watching a dark grey sheet which dangles from the clouds and shrouds the ground in an opaque mist. We were flying in warm, humid air with the sunshine beating down on our heads, but the distant wall of rain dragged over the ground like a heavy curtain, and it was clear that this wall of rain was so dense that no amount of sunshine could penetrate it. I asked Tom to take the airplane for a moment so that I could snap a couple shots, but I assure you that my photos just don't do the storm justice. The veil of darkness was almost black, and I watched it envelop trees and buildings as it crept closer. 5 miles away. 4 miles away. I finished taking my photos, and asked Tom to control the plane again. Then, just as Tom responded "You have the airplane", the plot thickened.

I saw a white bolt of lightning zip from the cloud tops all the way to the ground.

"I see lightning!" I exclaimed.

"Yeah," agreed Tom. "And it's headed this way. We need to go back. Continue north, and get the ATIS information."

The ATIS at Midway wasn't that bad. Wind out of the northeast, only 7 knots, and landing on the 4's. Good, I thought. The storm hasn't reached Midway yet.

But when I contacted Midway Tower, the controller's voice was very stressed. We called in our intention to land, and he acknowledged us amid frantic reports of wind shear and microbursts at the thresholds of several runways. Wind shear means that the wind is radically changing direction very close to the runway, which can spell disaster for aircraft on final or takeoff. And microbursts are winds that press downward right next to the runways, which can cause landing or departing aircraft to suddenly sink. Both of these phenomena are very dangerous, especially when you're flying a little Cessna like we are.

The storm was now three miles off our right wing. Sudden density changes in the atmosphere would cause the plane to lose altitude unexpectedly. I would sink 100 feet, then push in the throttle a little and try to climb back up to 1,900, but the density would change again and I would sink. On a couple occasions, the wings banked unexpectedly to the left, and I applied control wheel pressure to keep the wings level. I began to feel nervous, and I asked Tom to take the airplane.

"I have the airplane," Tom dutifully responded.

I pulled the shoulder strap of my seatbelt tightly, made sure my feet were clear of the rudder pedals, and concentrated on snapping pictures of the storm.

Tower gave us multiple traffic advisories. Here's a picture of an executive business jet that passed in front of us on approach to 4R. Tower suddenly gave us a frantic instruction.

"Cessna 737ME, fly heading 310. Traffic at your 9 o'clock, 2 miles, a 737 inbound for 4R."

Tom turned slightly to the left to head 310, and I looked out our left window. To my surprise, I saw a very LARGE Southwest 737 headed straight for us, our altitude, and I was amazed as it loomed larger and larger in the window. I tried to snap several shots of this incredible sight, but we were very quickly out of his way, and none of my shots came out. There was never a danger of conflict, but this experience served as a reminder that there are some big planes out there!

Once the Southwest jet was behind us, Tom asked Tower if we could turn to final. Tower cleared us to land on 4L. There was some rocky air on the way down; crosswinds picking up; Tom put us into a slip to get down to the runway. The landing was a little rough, and as we exited the runway, I looked up to see the thunderstorm bearing down on us.

"That was scary..." Tom confessed.

We heard several pilots asking the ground controller about the weather, and the controller continued to report wind shear and microbursts in the vicinity of the airport. The ground controller was asking pilots if they were ready to taxi, and I heard two Southwest pilots saying, "No. We're going to stay right here and wait until this blows over."

Pilots flying 737's don't want to take off in this weather, and we're landing in it. ;)

Taxied into the parking spot, and when I shut down the engine and popped open the door, I was hit with a blast of cool, damp air. The temperature has dropped 25 degrees in 15 minutes! Tom and I rushed to tie down our little Cessna as the storm started to roll over the field.

I looked to the north edge of the field. I knew that the rain was going to start falling within seconds, but I couldn't resist snapping this shot. I took this picture from the tower apron, looking north. Only ten seconds before this picture was taken, I could clearly see the large Southwest hangers on the far edge of the field. As you can see, the storm has completely obscured everything.

"Uh, Eric?" Tom admonished, "Hurry it up... I don't want to get drenched!"

I smiled, and jogged alongside Tom as we hurried to the FBO, and made it inside just as the rain really started to pour down on us.

I've spoken to several pilots about this pop-up thunderstorm today, and all of them agreed that there hasn't been a sudden thunderstorm like this in Chicago for at least 10 years. The radar forecast during my pre-flight was completely clear, and here is how it looked just 90 minutes later! The consensus is that cool air from off the lake merged with warm, dense air over the city, and developed into a storm cell. Every pilot was caught off guard. A friend of mine flying out of Los Angeles to Chicago was delayed for several hours while ATC tried to figure out how long the storm was going to stay. And as I drove home, the rain flooded my windshield so badly that I couldn't see the car directly ahead of me. Wind whipped several small rocks off the rooftops next to 63rd street and pelted my truck, cracking my windshield in two places, and leaving a nasty scratch on the driver's side door.

Quite the adventure. I was glad that Tom took the aircraft over, and we made it back just in time. I learned a very valuable lesson today; as pilots, we must respect the weather!

It's about time to start practicing landings, and lots of them. But that will have to wait until next time!

- Airman Eric

06/22/2009 - "Much better!"

2009-06-23T08:51:00.004-05:00

Today's lesson was all about getting back in the saddle after my sloppy performance last time. I've thought about my last lesson quite a bit, and I've come to some conclusions about it.

Conclusion #1: I am still combatting my bad Flight Simulator habit of fixating on the instruments. When you're flying on the computer, the scenery just isn't that reliable for helping you determine the plane's attitude. The scenery all looks the same, and simulating VFR on the computer, especially ground reference maneuvers, is almost pointless. Picking an intersection on the ground to fly around is almost impossible because the scenery all looks the same. Instead of picking a red farmhouse to fly around, when you're on the computer, you constantly have to ask yourself, "Now... which red farmhouse was I flying around!?"

When you're flying on the computer, the scenery doesn't provide a lot of information, so you wind up relying on the instruments a lot. In real life, however, using visual references while flying, by looking over the nose of the airplane, over the windowsill, or out to the wing, is so much more effective than trying to gauge your attitude by looking at the instruments. In a previous blog entry, I had said that the flight instruments show altitude changes 2-3 seconds after that change is already happening. In fact, I have learned through my ground school study that those instruments are showing where the airplane was 6-9 seconds ago! No wonder I'm having trouble holding altitude in ground reference maneuvers; I'm chasing the needles! During this lesson, I'm going to concentrate so much harder on the visual picture the airplane is giving me, and use the instruments only as backup information.

Conclusion #2: The warm, humid air last lesson was definitely affecting my ability to hold altitude. Instead of whining about it, what I must do as a pilot is compensate for it! What if the air during my checkride is bumpy? I can't reschedule for another day! A pilot must work with what Mother Nature gives him, within reason. When I fly on hot, humid days, I'm going to have to be aware of that fact and be prepared for the plane to handle differently. The wind may change direction unexpectedly, causing heading and altitude fluctuations, and the controls will require more input to get the same result. As I conducted pre-flight check today, I could tell that the air was much smoother and much more arid, so I don't expect to have the same problems today. However, I know that it's summertime, and I will have to face the same humid conditions again before too long.

Conclusion #3: I forgot to eat before my last lesson! I thought back, and I realized that I had eaten only a few chicken strips the night before, and only had a cup of coffee in the morning. As I was flying, I began to feel tired, and a little out of touch with the plane. Well, no wonder! I hadn't eaten a respectable meal in more than 12 hours, and my blood sugar was probably quite low. Before today's lesson, I was certain to have a big bowl of cereal for breakfast, and even munched a quick Snickers bar in the FBO before going out to the plane. I already feel better compared to yesterday. In the future, I will be certain to eat some food before flying, and I will instruct my passengers to do the same!

Flying 737ME today. Pre-flight, taxi, and takeoff uneventful. The air definitely was much smoother today, and my climbout from Midway was exactly 75 knots.

"You've got your airspeed pegged," commented Tom.

That's a good start!

When we were clear of Midway's airspace to the south, we turned to the southeast to practice ground reference maneuvers. Tom pointed out a very interesting rock quarry as we neared Lansing, and I snapped a couple photos (shown above and to the right). I still cannot get over the beauty of viewing the world from the air. Sure, I've seen plenty of aerial views out of the window when I have flown on commercial aircraft. But everything goes by so fast, and once you climb above 10,000 feet, all of the detail is lost. Oh, and of course, you can only see the world through a little peephole compared to the full range view you enjoy as a pilot! I love it when the sky is clear except for a few puffy clouds, because those clouds generate shadows on the landscape on such a huge scale that only pilots can appreciate them. I still haven't flown during sunrise or sunset, and I still haven't viewed the city skyline from the water. I am required to do some night flights as part of my training for my license, and I hope that I can start as the sun is going down so that I can enjoy the sunset from the air. These are the things to come.

Compared to my last lesson, things are already looking up. I am finally getting the hang of the attitude necessary to maintain level flight. The difference in nose attitude between level flight, climb and descent is very, very subtle! I still sometimes start to descend without realizing it, and Tom says I am making too many trim adjustments. I need to set the trim to a nominal position, and then use the control wheel to fly the plane!

Time for ground reference maneuvers. 2,300 RPMs, 97 knots. We'll start with turns around a point.

My failures to hold altitude fresh in my mind, I looked to the ground and chose a T-intersection next to a school building. I know that it was a school building because I could see yellow school buses parked in the back! I thought about the wind at my back, and I remembered that I would need to bank up to 30 degrees initially to overcome the plane's inertia, then slowly shallow out the bank as the plane turned into the wind. At the end of the first quarter turn, I was holding altitude very well and seemed to be tracking a circular course over the ground. Shallowing out the bank more. Pulling back on the control wheel to keep from sinking. Halfway through the first turn; still holding altitude, still keeping a good ground track. Steepening the bank steadily as the plane continues the circle and begins to turn away from the wind. Finishing the first turn, continuing into the second.

"Much better!" congratulated Tom. "You've got your altitude and airspeed pegged."

Keeping an eye on the school building. Maintaining altitude +/- 50 feet, and the ground track looks good. Completed the second turn and leveled out.

"That was very good! Let's move on to S-Turns."

I'm on a roll and I have no fear. S-Turns are just like turns around a point in terms of execution, except I'm going to make an "S" over the ground rather than a circle. Took a few minutes to trim the airplane and find a road that was long enough and far away from power lines. Finally, I found a suitable road and began the turn.

In the first half of the "S", I began with a steep 30-degree bank to the left, than steadily shallowed all the way to 10 degrees as I crossed the road again. Immediately as I crossed the road, I banked to the right until I had 10 degrees of bank the other way, and steadily increased the bank until I reached 30 degrees as I crossed the road a second time.

"Wow! You've really improved since last time," Tom encouraged. Yahtzee!

Moved on to slow flight, remembering how hard I had to push down on that right rudder pedal in order to hold my heading. Carb heat on, throttle to 1,600, extended flaps step by step until 40 degrees, throttle back up to 2,100 to hold altitude at 40-50 knots. Stall horn is whining. Sinking a little; pulling back on the control wheel to hold altitude. Still sinking; adding a little throttle to keep my speed up. Tom asked me to turn to the west, and I did so, only 10 degrees of bank. The plane seems to turn unpredictably; I can't depend on the bank to turn the plane as consistently as it does at higher airspeeds. I need to work on using rudder pressure to turn the plane in slow flight. I've certainly improved my technique since last lesson, but my slow flight maneuvers are still not satisfactory. Much more work to be done.

Worked on power-on and power-off stalls. Still very sloppy in the recovery. The purpose of practicing stall recoveries is to establish an automatic response that will kick in if I should ever stall the plane accidentally. In the power-on stall, I need to allow the stall to develop, but recover before the plane reaches level flight attitude, and double check that the carb heat is off, throttle at full, flaps retracted by physically touching the controls. In a power-off stall, I must recover before the plane reaches level flight, push the throttle to full and flaps to 20 degrees to establish slow flight attitude, and slowly retract flaps once I have a positive rate until I can resume normal climbing speed. As I worked these stalls today, I repeatedly allowed the nose to dive too far down. I need to find a balance between quickly recovering from the critical angle of attack and avoiding unnecessary altitude loss. I've got room to grow on this one.

We were pretty close to Lansing Regional, and it was time to get in a few landings. It's going to take some time for me to become comfortable with the traffic pattern. I'm getting used to the power settings required for landing, and I never seem to be able to keep the runway centerline. We did three landings on runway 27 at Lansing today, and they were pretty rough. All three times, I landed to the left of the centerline, and landed flat on all three wheels rather than sticking most of the landing on the main gear. It is very important to touch down with the main gear first, because it is much more stable and much stronger than the nose gear. I'm going to be making many, many more landings before I can feel comfortable with the procedures involved.

It's time to head back. Nothing remarkable about the entry into Midway's airspace, although Tom commented that I am holding my altitude of 1,900 much better today. Tower told us to make straight in for runway 31L, and just before we set up on final, the tower controller told us to make a left 270 degree turn to ensure that we wouldn't be landing parallel to a big Southwest 737. I made the turn, and came out a little high on the approach. Tom took the airplane to the ground so that he could make sure that we bled off enough altitude for the landing, and Tower asked us to turn left on 4R/22L to K, and Ground gave us our taxi to the apron.

Today's lesson was all about vidication. I had a bad day last lesson, and today I corrected those mistakes. As Tom told me, flying a plane is a unique activity. I'm going to have a bad day or two, but the important thing is to get back in the cockpit as soon as possible and try it again. Tom was pleased with my ground reference maneuvers, and says that we are going to give it a rest for a little while. Next lesson, we will concentrate on slow flight, stalls, and make a whole bunch of takeoffs and landings.

Can't wait.

- Airman Eric

06/20/2009 - "What's with your altitude today?"

2009-06-20T21:10:00.004-05:00

I've been told by several licensed pilots that I'm going to have some rough lessons, where no matter what I do, I can't demonstrate a skill properly, and might even feel like I'm regressing. I think it's safe to say that after today's lesson, I have reached my first plateau.

Tom and I met at the FBO lobby, and he asked me to pre-flight N737ME (shown to the left). I used the checklists to examine the airplane, look over the rivets (no loose screws this time), make sure the control surfaces move freely, check the fuel for water or sediment, check the tires for inflation, check the oil level, examine the propeller, pitot tube and static port, and climb up on top of the wings to visually check for the fuel level. All is well, and I've gotten into a pre-flight flow where I know what must be done and I am more comfortable with it. This doesn't mean that I'm going to ever gloss over details of the pre-flight. I learned during my pre-flight walkaround of N172NT yesterday that irregular indications can pop up even when the same aircraft has been flown only hours before!

On that note... Tom admitted to me today that the airspeed indicator and altimeter in N172NT are giving incorrect readings. The problem has more to do with the instruments themselves, as opposed to the pitot tube or static source. Tom told me that the mechanic knows about these problems, and the flight school is addressing them one at a time. Hey, it's an old plane! There are bound to be little idiosyncrasies. As long as the plane is safe, we'll be flying in it.

Taxied to the edge of the tower apron for run-up, and read each item from the checklist in my hand. All of a sudden, Tom stopped me.

"You missed something."

I looked back at the checklist, and sure enough, I had skipped over the Flight Controls section of the run-up, where I move the control wheel and rudder pedals to ensure that all of the control surfaces are working properly. Remember how I was saying that I'm getting familiar with the checklists? Well, sure, but I'm not so familiar with it that I can do it from memory! Part of the problem must be that as I am reading the checklist silently and performing the steps, my eyes might skip a step or two. I can't afford that, so I promise myself that I will read checklist items out loud from this point forward.

I hoped that this would be my last mistake of the lesson.

Tower gave us a taxi to runway 31L via F, F4. I contacted tower, announced that we're ready to go. He gave us takeoff clearance, with a left turn to heading 180.

I start to pull back on the control wheel at about 50 knots indicated airspeed, and the plane slowly lifts off. Within seconds, the nose is pitching up too high, and the airspeed is dropping below 60.

"Not so much! Push forward!" Tom warned... not panicking, but not calm, either. Okay... yes, we're supposed to practice some power-on stalls today. But it is NOT a good idea to practice them 300 feet over the ground! I pushed forward on the control wheel and achieved a pretty good climb rate of 75 knots. At this point, I was a little frustrated with myself. I've never made that mistake on takeoff roll before. I hoped that this would be my last, last mistake of the lesson.

Levelled off below 2,000, trimmed for cruise. A little bumpy today. The air is thicker and warmer than usual, which Tom points out can cause the aircraft to lose performance. Flew clear of MDW's airspace, then turned to the southwest to reach the country roads and practice ground reference maneuvers.

I've watched the ground school DVD repeatedly and I completely understand the concept of ground reference maneuvers. The purpose is to track a predictable path over the ground while holding altitude, either making a circle around a stationary point, tracking a rectangular course which follows four different roads, or making S-turns across a road. I performed two clearing turns and pointed the aircraft to the south, with the wind at my back. I pulled the throttle back to 2,300 RPMs, and trimmed the aircraft to hold altitude at maneuvering speed, 97 knots. The first task to make a turn around a point.

Tom asked me to pick a point on the ground. I chose an intersection of two country roads, and when I was abeam the intersection off my left wing, I began to bank.

After a few seconds, Tom said, "Steepen the bank. You're turning too wide."

I followed directions, and looked over my left wing at the intersection. It seemed to be the same distance from the aircraft. If I were in fact turning too wide, the intersection would slowly seem to get further away as I turned around it. No sooner did I steepen the bank then Tom said, "More shallow, now!"

Argh! So far, I'm a little bit behind the airplane. Changes are happening that I am not responding to fast enough. I looked over my left wing, and NOW the intersection seemed a little closer.

"Don't let the nose drop. You're descending."

Pulled back on the control wheel to compensate. Crossed the road after 1/4 turn with the nose of the airplane pointing slightly to the outside of the circle. At this point, I realized that when I originally steepened the bank, it was too much for too long. Now I was heading slightly away from the center of my circle, and my problems continued in the second 1/4 turn.

"Don't level out. Bank the wings more. You're climbing. Push forward on the control wheel."

I'm behind on everything! Halfway through the turn, I had lost almost 200 feet and I had overcompensated for my bogus heading in the first quarter turn, and now I was closing the circle too much. By the time I made it back around to the beginning of the circle, I levelled the wings, secretly glad that the horrible turn was over.

One small problem.

"Turns around a point are always two turns. When the first turn finishes, you just continue turning into the second one."

I knew that.

"I'm going to try again," I said, determined to make this right.

Trimmed for 1,800 feet @ 97 knots, chose another intersection, but Tom pointed out that the intersection I had chosen was too close to a bank of power lines. Granted, our altitude would allow us to fly well above the power lines, but in the event of an engine failure, we do NOT want to make an emergency landing anywhere near power lines! During my checkride, I will have to choose points for my ground reference maneuvers, which pretty much makes me the agent of my own success or destruction. I will need to choose a point that are distinctive, and far away from power lines, towers or other obstructions.

Continued for another 1/2 mile, and found a farm house with a red roof at a country road intersection, not a power line in sight. Lined myself up for the maneuver, and when I was abeam the point, I began my turn.

Tom had told me that my initial bank in my last turn was too shallow, so I made certain not to make the same mistake twice. Instead, I made entirely new ones.

"Your bank is too steep. Shallow out a little. The nose is dropping. Pull back on the control wheel. You've lost 100 feet..."

I was just all over the place. And once again, I levelled off after one turn when in fact I am supposed to perform two. I sighed with frustration when Tom reminded me for the second time in 10 minutes that I must make 2 full turns around the point.

"You were much better at this last lesson," Tom commented, tongue-in-cheek.

Good point. What was going on? I had been receiving compliment after compliment with each thing I had done during lessons, and now, it seemed that I couldn't do anything right. It was time to move on to S-Turns, and I vowed that my problems in turns around a point would be my last, last, last mistake of the lesson.

But, I never broke out of my funk. I had trouble holding altitude in the turns, banked too much, banked too little, rolled out late... it was a sloppy mess. I completed my second S-turn, and Tom pointed out the altimeter.

"You've lost 300 feet. What's with your altitude today?"

"I really don't know! I guess I'm tired," I shrugged.

"Don't get frustrated," Tom encouraged. "I've beat you up enough on this stuff. Let's do some slow flight."

Slow flight wasn't much better! I slowed the aircraft down and extended full flaps. At such slow speed with full flaps extended, the plane's nose must point up in order to hold altitude. 'Tried' being the operative word. It took me a while to balance the power I needed to hold altitude while maintaining only 40 knots. And P-Factor was consistently pulling the plane to the left.

"You need more right rudder," instructed Tom.

I pushed down my right foot, but the plane continued to pull to the left.

"I'm already pressing it as far as it will go!"

"No, you're not!" laughed Tom.

Tom pushed his right foot down along with me, and I was absolutely shocked by how far down that pedal could go. The wind resistance from the propeller makes it very difficult to deflect the rudder as far as is necessary to overcome the turning force generated by P-Factor and keep the plane going straight. I had to push my body down so far in the seat to reach the full range of the rudder pedal, I could barely see over the nose. It took all of my leg strength to keep the pedal down.

As it turns out, the solution to my rudder problem is simple. My seat was too far back! I'm used to driving my big pickup truck, with the driver's seat all the way back, where I can have all of the leg room in the world. I can't do that when I'm flying, because I need to do more than simply touch the pedals... I need to be able to push that right rudder pedal as far down as it will go when I'm in slow flight. From now on, I'll be pulling my seat forward further when I fly to ensure that I don't have this problem anymore.

There was a bright moment in the lesson... I am becoming more comfortable with power-on and power-off stalls. I'm not as good at recovering from the stalls as I need to be; I'm still losing too much altitude before recovering. But, I look forward to working on that in coming lessons.

Time to head back. Approached Midway from the south, called up Tower, was given a squawk code and instructions to fly straight in for runway 31L. Followed Tom's instructions to set up the approach. RPM's back to 1,600, flaps to 20. When glide was assured, I pulled the throttle to idle and the flaps to full. I tend to be left of the centerline, and today wasn't any different, so Tom instructed me several times to line up on the centerline properly. Tom let me fly the plane all the way to the ground, but kept his hand near his control wheel in case I made a mistake. I pulled back too early, floated a little high, burned off too much speed, and came down on runway 31L a little hard. This is a running theme for me. I'm learning more and more that the point at which I should pull back on the control wheel and level out on landing is about 5 feet lower than I am actually doing it. I guess I have this elaborate fear of the ground, but to level out too early is to my detriment, as well as the landing gear's! Tower gave us a backtaxi on 13R, a right turn on 22L, and a left turn on F to the tower apron.

A rough lesson. I feel like I did almost nothing right, and the real kicker is that I was better at ground reference maneuvers just two days ago. Am I regressing?

No, of course not. I just had a bad day. Tom told me that he can think of several occasions where one bad thing happened to him, then another, and another. Tom assured me that the key to get through it is to address problems one step at a time, and don't let them throw you, or you might make new mistakes while you fixate on the old ones.

I'm back in the saddle in two days... not that I'm counting or anything!

- Airman Eric

06/18/2009 - "Maneuvering speed is 2,200 knots!?"

2009-06-19T07:48:00.003-05:00

I've been driving on Chicago roads for 17 years, and summertime around here is always marked by ridiculous amounts of road construction. It seems that every time you turn a corner, another orange construction sign gives you an irritating command. And the delays! Long lines of cars wait to merge into a single lane that isn't going any faster... and don't you hate the drivers that make the problem worse by cruising down the emergency lane and thicken the bottleneck even more?

Here's a fun photo of four aircraft lining up for Runway 22L as we turned base for runway 22R today. Pilots don't have an emergency lane that they can use to jockey for a better position. They line up on the taxiway and wait their turn! If only the drivers on the highways would do the same thing... but I digress...

Guess what? Summertime is marked by airport construction, too! Taxiway K is still closed between Y and F, and Taxiway F is closed from Runway 4R all the way back to Taxiway W. As I conducted preflight walkaround of good ol' Cessna 172NT, I looked down F and saw half a dozen trucks with yellow flashing lights zipping around working on the taxiway, kicking up a good amount of dust. Just like the repair trucks on I-94!

A couple irregularities on preflight today. I found a loose screw on the right side of the vertical stabilizer (a.k.a. the plane's tail, shown here to the right). Luckily, the fuel sample cup has a screwdriver attachment, and with a couple turns, the screw was tightened. This is, of course, exactly the reason we do preflight checks. The fuselage undergoes stresses in flight and when landing, and the vibrations alone can be enough to loosen a screw or two. I noticed a second irregularity during the preflight; when I powered on the avionics, and set the altimeter according to the METAR's specifications, the altimeter was reading 560 ft. at ground level. The elevation of Midway Airport is 620 feet, so the altimeter is 60 feet off, which isn't a reason to abort flight, especially because we're a small Cessna flying under VFR, but it isn't a good thing, either! Also noticed just before taxi that the suction gauge was reading outside of the green arc; a little bit high. I asked Tom about these irregularities, and his response, "The readings are a little weird. But it'll be fine."

Taxied to the edge of the tower apron, and pulled the throttle out to 1,700 RPMs for run-up checks. I glanced down taxiway F and watched those construction trucks buzzing around. Midway is departing from the 13's today, probably because of the construction. Taxiway F is the only way for us to get to Runway 13R. Tom and I wondered how we were going to get up there... As always, Tower had the solution for us.

"Cessna 172NT, turn right on 4R, turn left to backtaxi on 13R, contact Tower when in position."

Ha! We're using runways as taxiways! At Midway! Weird day.

Taxied into position, contacted Midway Tower. Cleared for takeoff, heading 180. Applied increasing right rudder to counter P-Factor and keep the plane on the centerline. Glanced down at the airspeed indicator, and it showed 40 knots. Just then, the nosegear of the airplane began to shudder.

"Pull back on the control wheel," Tom commanded.

The plane lifted off, and I began a turn to 180. What happened?

"The nose gear was on the ground too long. When you're applying right rudder, you're also turning the nose gear. The shuddering was caused by the friction of the tire turning to the right while the plane rolls straight ahead."

I was waiting for the airspeed indicator to increase to 50-55 knots before rotating, and the shuddering happened at just above 40 knots. Just as I was thinking it, Tom commented, "I think that the airspeed indicator is a little screwy. I'm going to have them look at it."

Chances are that we were rolling at 55 knots even though the airspeed indicator said 40. This can be caused by a blockage in the pitot tube, such as debris or ice. It's 80 degrees today, so I doubt that ice is the culprit, but a tiny bit of dirt in the pitot tube can have significant repercussions. I did look at the pitot tube during pre-flight, and didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, but these strange airspeed indications are a good reason to have the pitot tube checked out.

As I levelled off to cruise altitude, I remembered that the altimeter reading was also a little bit off. These symptoms might be pointing to a blockage in the static port; that's the tiny hole on the side of the fuselage that measures static air pressure, which is used by the instruments to determine airspeed, altitude, and vertical speed. A blockage in the static port can cause all of these instruments to show irregular readings or fail altogether. In a small Cessna such as ours, a failure of these instruments is not as serious as it would be in an aircraft flying under IFR in bad weather, because even in the event of a complete failure of these instruments we will still be flying primarily using visual references. Still, I'll be asking Tom if the problem has been remedied before flying 172NT again.

During today's lesson we will be performing turns around a point and S-turns. Before doing these maneuvers, a pilot must perform "clearing turns", which means that he/she performs a 180-degree turn or 2 90-degree turns to scan the skies for traffic before concentrating on the turns. I am not yet in the habit of doing clearing turns before maneuvers. Tom keeps prompting me by asking, "We're going to do a turn around a point. What do you need to do first?", and I instantly want to answer anything except the answer he's looking for: clearing turns! Safety is paramount when you're a pilot, and performing clearing turns before executing ground reference maneuvers is a very important safety precaution.

All of these maneuvers are conducted at maneuvering speed, which is the highest speed at which full deflection of the controls about any one axis are guaranteed not to overstress the airframe. In this aircraft, maneuvering speed is 97 knots, which is maintained at 2,200-2,300 RPMs. Once we reached maneuvering speed at an altitude of 1,800 feet, Tom asked me to pick an intersection of two country roads down below. The goal is to fly a complete counterclockwise circle around this intersection, tracking a perfect circle over the ground. The wind exerts horizontal force on aircraft, so the pilot must apply varying degrees of bank and stabilizing rudder in order to keep the circle round. For each 90 degree section of the turn, I chose a feature on the ground that was equidistant from the intersection, such as a farm house or a conspicuous line of trees. This process made a lot of sense to me. As long as I kept the sight picture of my reference points and made sure that the plane's arc was wide enough to reach the reference point when the wings were parallel with the road.

Tom quickly quizzed me on how to achieve maneuvering speed in the aircraft.

"Now, what is maneuvering speed in this aircraft?" Tom asked.

"2,200 knots," I responded.

"Wha!?" Tom smiled. "Maneuvering speed is 2,200 knots!?"

OOPS!

"I mean 97 knots, which I can achieve at about 2,200 RPMs!" I corrected myself.

Well, maybe you had to be there, but this was funny! 2,200 knots is 2,200 nautical miles per hour... almost twice as fast as an F-22 fighter jet's maximum speed with thrusters at full! I'll be sure not to say that during my oral exam... such a response is sure to get an eyebrow raise out of my examiner!

Moving on to S-turns. S-turns are similar to turns around a point, but instead of making a circle around a single point, the pilot makes a half circle around the point, then makes a half-circle in the opposite direction around another point further down the same road, to make an "S" over the ground. I was having trouble closing the first half-circle with the wings parallel to the road; in other words, my first circle was too shallow, and my second circle needed to be wider to compensate. On the bright side, I was reasonably good at holding altitude during the maneuvers, although my altitude fluctuations are still outside of tolerances that I will be expected to meet during the checkride. I look forward to continuing to practice S-turns in my next lesson.

With about 30 minutes of lesson time left, we practiced some slow flight and power-off stalls. This is still by far the scariest part of my lessons. Just like practicing stalls, we practice slow flight to get used to how the airplane handles when it is at the very limits of lift. We begin by climbing to 2,800 feet, which is a safe altitude that will permit us to recover from any accidental stall that occurs during slow flight. Our goal is to hold altitude and make shallow turns while the plane is flying just above stall speed. In order to do this, the throttle must be pulled back to 1,600 to slow the plane down (accompanied by activating carburator heat to avoid carburator icing), and I must hold altitude with backward control wheel pressure, setting flaps to 10, 20, 30, and finally 40 degrees. As the stall horn activates, I push the throttle in to around 2,000 RPMs, and the plane will be able to hold altitude at an airspeed of only 40 knots! It's going to take me awhile to feel comfortable when the plane is in slow flight; everything feels wrong! I am deliberately placing the airplane in a configuration which could cause a stall quite easily if I fail to maintain the correct attitude. And the P-factor is so strong in slow flight that I have to depress the rudder very hard just to keep the airplane flying straight, and even then, I'm yawing all over the place. I understand the concept of slow flight, but I'm still very sloppy. I will definitely need more practice in slow flight before I am comfortable with it.

Oh, and on a side note... the stall horn is supposed to sound continuously during slow flight, and this is the moment when another problem with 172NT made itself known. The stall horn would not sound at all. Tom isn't really sure why the stall horn isn't working. There isn't anything electronic in the stall horn... it is simply a reed in the leading part of the wing that makes a whining sound when the wing comes close to exceeding the critical angle of attack that will cause a stall. The best explanation that Tom can come up with is that the reed might simply be so wet that it cannot make a sound. What can we do except be more mindful of our airspeed?

Transitioned from slow flight to power-off stalls. Just like two lessons ago, I would struggle to keep the plane in slow flight, and then pull back all the way on the control wheel until the wing exceeded the critical angle of attack and the wings stalled. The goal is to push forward on the control wheel just enough to reduce the angle of attack and resume normal flight while losing a minimum amount of altitude in the stall recovery. But again, deliberately stalling the plane is very harrowing! During one of these stalls, I felt my heart go straight up into my throat! You know that moment in a roller coaster just when you reach the top of one hill and start to go down another? Same thing here, except in the back of my mind I'm thinking, "There's nothing holding me up!"

Well, I continuously tell myself that the Cessna wants to fly. It wants to recover from the stall. And I can see this in practice because the stall recovery requires very little forward pressure, and the plane begins flying again within a second. Still, stall recovery is another thing I'll have to get used to!

Another lesson is coming to an end, and it's time to head home. Standard approach from the south... and while we were gone, Midway switched to landing 22L and 22R. Tower first instructed us to enter the pattern for runway 22L, but near the end of our downwind, Tower told us to switch to 22R so that he could depart the first of several aircraft waiting to go off from 22L. I had arranged with Tom for him to take the full approach into Midway today, so that I could get this shot of the runway right before we touched down. And of course, Instructor Tom brought her in for a smooth landing, we exited left at F, and I took over the airplane to taxi to the apron. Had plenty of space to park the aircraft this time, and taxied her to the center of the parking space on the first try.

Another 2.2 hours in the logbook, totalling 7.9 hours. Continuing to study the Sporty's DVD to review ground reference maneuvers and prepare for cross country flight planning.

Lovin' it.

- Airman Eric

06/12/2009 - "A little too fast that time..."

2009-06-14T10:09:00.007-05:00

I am currently writing this blog from the lobby of the Atlantic FBO. Boy, it sure is nice that Atlantic has free Wi-Fi! I am sitting on a very comfy couch, watching the news on a plasma screen, and waiting for Instructor Tom to arrive from his previous lesson.

The FBO isn't very busy at the moment, but it is always a great place to watch people. I am looking out the window at a sizeable executive jet which has just parked after landing at Midway. I was amazed to see two small children exiting the aircraft with their parents, followed by the pilot. Was it a charter? A personal jet? Don't know. But it is quite interesting to sit in the lobby and watch people come and go, who, let's face it, are upper-crust types. These two boys, about 5 and 7, don't even realize what a privilege it is to hop off an aircraft, walk through the lobby to a car, and drive straight home. What an amazing country we live in, where the rich have so much and the poor have so little.

And yet, as I sit here in the lobby people-watching, I hope that I'll see somebody famous. Tom mentioned to me that he once saw Tim Allen sitting in the FBO lobby. He was waiting for his private jet, and there was some sort of hang-up, so he didn't get to leave as quickly as he would have liked. Of course, a guy like Tim Allen flies in a private jet so he can avoid people, and to be stuck in the FBO lobby for any time at all was probably torture! Needless to say, Tom felt it best to not bother the man, but it's still cool that this lobby might one day give me the chance to see a famous person. I've seen plenty of rich people, but nobody famous yet. I'm keeping an eye out.

The weather is breathtaking. Sunny, 70 degrees, barely a cloud in the sky. Today, Tom and I are going to practice ground reference maneuvers and do some simulated landings. A ground reference maneuver means that a pilot is lining himself up with features on the ground, much in the same way he does when making an approach to a runway. We are going to be using country roads around the farms near Peotone as reference points to simulate what I will do when I am flying the traffic pattern to land.

Tom returned from the ramp with his previous student, and surprised me with an announcement; we are going to have a passenger today. The flight school has an airplane currently parked at Joliet Regional Airport, and Chris, another instructor with the school, is going to hitch a ride with us to Joliet so that he can pick up the aircraft and bring it back. It's time for my first landing at an airport other than Midway.

I smiled to myself. In my previous lesson, Tom told me that we were going to be simulating the traffic pattern. And today, it turns out that I'm going to be doing the real thing!

We're flying Cessna 172NT, the same aircraft I used in my first lesson. I'm getting pretty good at the preflight and the radio callups prior to departure, so I'll jump through this part pretty quick... conducted the preflight walkaround using the checklists, met up with Chris and chatted for awhile; he climbed into the back seat and waited as I started up the airplane and called up clearance delivery to announce our departure, called up ground and began taxi to 4L, held short F for a Diamond Star that was taxiing to the apron, held short 4R for a landing 737, crossed 4R for 4L, contacted tower for takeoff clearance, received said clearance, and VOOM, we were off!

Did a much better job trimming the aircraft for 1,900 feet... at last, I didn't even come close to busting the altitude restriction! Tom told me to turn right to a heading of 250 toward Joliet. The air was a little choppy and hazy, but I held altitude and heading as best I could. Tom announced that we were going to use the Joliet VOR to double-check our course.

The term VOR stands for Very high-frequency Omnidirectional Range. It is a permanent ground installation that sends radio signals up into the sky in 360 directions, or radials. Aircraft are equipped with radio receivers that can pick up the signals. It can tell the pilot where they are in relation to the station, how far away they are, their ground speed in relation to the station, and whether they are flying to or from the station. I couldn't find a picture of the JOT VOR, but here's a picture of a nifty-looking one in Germany, so that you get the idea.

I tuned the frequency of the JOT VOR, which is 112.3. The plane is bopping around a little, I'm trying to hold heading and altitude while tuning the radio and setting the course. I also needed to set the Common Traffic Advisory Frequency. Joliet is a small regional field, and is not busy enough to have a control tower. Instead of relying on a controller on the ground to give instructions, pilots landing at/departing from Joliet all tune the CTAF frequency on their radios (122.7 at this airport), and talk to each other directly to announce their intentions. Tom helped me tune radios by showing me the VOR frequency and CTAF frequency on the sectional map, but I felt like I could have used a couple more hands!

"Tom, how in the world am I going to do all this when I'm flying alone?" I asked.

"I dunno... you just do what you have to do!" responded Tom. Good enough.

The needle in the CDI (Course Deviation Indicator) is centered for now, which shows that I am flying direct to the JOT VOR. After a minute, the needle is no longer centered, no doubt because the wind is blowing me off course. I asked Tom if this was a concern, but he said it wasn't because we're not actually flying direct to the JOT VOR, we are flying to Joliet Regional, which will come up 5 miles before we reach the VOR anyway. It seemed like no more than 15 minutes, and Tom said, "I think I see the field."

I looked over the nose of the airplane, and at about one o'clock and 5 miles, I could see an airstrip with one runway on it. The orientation of the runway looked correct, but I realized that it can be very easy for a pilot to become disorientated and lose track of where he/she is. I plan to ask Tom more about using the VFR charts to help me know where I am. I'm only about 25 miles from home, and already I feel lost!

I haven't heard any other pilots on the CTAF frequency, so it's likely we're the only plane headed for the field. I asked Tom if I should make a traffic call as we turned downwind for runway 12.

"No," said Tom. "We'll just call final. Pull the throttle back to 2,000 RPMs and keep level flight. The plane will slow down to 80 knots."

I followed directions, but everything still seemed to be happening very fast. I felt pretty nervous.

"Extend 10 degrees of flaps."

I pushed the flap lever down to 10 degrees. Felt the plane pitch downward, enabling me to see the runway better.

"When the runway threshold is 45 degrees behind you, turn base."

I turned the airplane 90 degrees to the left. Tom looked out the left window and saw the runway approaching.

"Pull the throttle back to 1,600 RPMs. Extend 20 degrees of flaps."

The plane descended further. I called out a traffic advisory in case any other pilots were planning to take off from Joliet. When transmitting on the CTAF, a pilot gives five pieces of information; the airport he's calling about, who he is, what he's flying, where he is, and what he wants to do. The pilot also repeats the airport name at the end of the transmission as a courtesy in case another pilot tunes into the middle of the transmission. In this case, my call went like this:

"Joliet Traffic, 172NT is a Cessna 172, short final runway 12, Joliet."

"Good traffic call," Tom smiled. "Now, imagine the runway centerline continuing to extend outward towards us. Turn the plane to line up over the runway centerline."

I banked the wings, and rolled out to line up with the runway. I appeared to be tracking the runway centerline pretty well!

"We're too low. Push the throttle in to 2,000 RPMs."

I guess that when I was making the final turn, I rolled out at the right time, but I lost a little too much altitude. I pushed the throttle in to 2,000 RPMs, which instantly pitched the nose upward to a degree that I did not expect.

"Push forward on the control wheel..." Tom said.

No sooner were the words out of Tom's mouth than the plane had climbed 100 feet and was now too high!

"...Too high... pull the throttle to idle... full flaps..."

Followed directions, but the pitch down attitude seemed to be a bit much. I didn't take my eyes off the runway centerline. I could feel the speed increasing, but I couldn't tell how much.

"I'm going to help you with this," said Tom.

I think I've figured out something about Tom. When he says, "I'm going to help you with this," it means I messed up!

Pulled the control wheel back to level about 10 feet above the runway. The plane floated a bit. Tom pushed the control wheel in and out to bleed off some airspeed, but we touched down on the runway very fast. The wheels shuddered quite little bit as I applied light brakes, making a pretty loud thumping noise, and it took a long time to slow down. We finally slowed to taxi speed, about 20 knots, with 500 feet of runway left. I taxied off the left side.

"Well, you want your approach speed to be about 65 knots, and you touched down at about 85 knots. You were a little too fast that time."

This is where I learned that Tom has the gift of understatement. ;) I'm sitting here trying to figure out if I messed up something that I should have known how to deal with. I definitely came in too steep and too fast, especially considering that Chris was sitting in the back seat, adding some extra weight. But this is only my third lesson, and I felt a little overwhelmed in this landing. At the end of the day, however, I learned a very valuable lesson. I learned the warning signs for an approach that is too fast!

I asked Tom point blank, "Did I mess up something that I should have been prepared to deal with?"

Tom didn't really harp on it, so I didn't ask the question twice. I think that I was too slow to respond to the attitude changes of the airplane, and I put us in a not-so-ideal situation. Tom could have taken the airplane from me, but I'm guessing Tom ascertained that the approach wasn't life-threatening, so he let me have this landing even though it wasn't ideal because if he had instantly taken the plane from me just because I was a little too low, I wouldn't have learned anything! I'm sorry that the landing was rough, but I appreciate Tom's willingness to let me experience controlling the aircraft all the way to the ground. I think it's safe to say that a pilot learns more from bad landings than from good ones. ;)

Really-super-important-lesson #1: Watch your approach airspeed!

We taxied to parking, and dropped Chris off. I noticed Chris shooting a look at Tom, rolling his eyes... guess he wasn't impressed by the rough landing. Don't worry, Chris; I'll impress you soon enough!

Heard a helicopter pilot on the CTAF report that he was hover-taxiing to the fueling area, and he reported us in sight. I watched him overfly runway 12, land near the fuel pumps, and shut down to fuel up. Once Chris was safely clear, I taxied back to runway 12 for another takeoff. Made another advisory call on the CTAF.

"Joliet Traffic, 172NT is a Cessna 172, departing runway 12 to the east, Joliet."

Rolling on Runway 12. 70 knots. Pulling back on the control wheel. 80 knots and still not climbing!

"Pull back on the control wheel," Tom warned.

At last, the plane lifted off, we began a steady climbout. I pulled the nose a little bit above the horizon, and Tom complimented me, "Nice climbout! 75 knots exactly!"

I looked down at the airspeed indicator, and yup, 75 knots in the climbout, and holding steady. The plane just feels more stable when it's climbing at 75 knots. I trimmed off control pressure for several seconds, and that was when I realized why our takeoff roll was so late.

"Tom, I forgot to reset the trim for takeoff. That's why it took so long to rotate."

"That could be!" said Tom. See what I mean? Tom's got the gift of understatement.

Really-super-important-lesson #2: USE CHECKLISTS, ERIC! If I had run the takeoff checklist, I would have trimmed the aircraft properly and the takeoff would have been textbook.

The remainder of the lesson wasn't as eventful. I did several ground reference maneuvers, following the country roads in a series of left-hand turns. At last, I am becoming more consistent holding altitude as I turn! I still need to practice, but I'm losing less than 50 feet in medium bank turns, and that's an improvement!

Did several simulated landings. Climbed up to 2,800 feet, and Tom asked me to choose a landmark on the ground that will represent the runway threshold. I chose a cul-de-sac in the middle of a real estate development. I turned south on a simulated downwind, and pulled the throttle back to 2,000 RPMs. When the cul-de-sac was immediately off my left wing, Tom asked me to add 10 degrees of flaps. I continued to the south until the cul-de-sac was 45 degrees over my left shoulder, then turned 90 degrees to the left, pulled the throttle back to 1,600 RPMs, and deployed 20 degrees of flaps for a simulated base. At this point, the aircraft has begun descending at about 500 feet per minute. When the cul-de-sac was nearly off my left wing again, I turned 90 degrees to the left and lined up with the cul-de-sac directly ahead. Once I was close enough to simulate final, Tom asked me to pull the throttle back to idle, deploy full flaps, and descend down to 1,800 feet. In a real landing, this is when I would touch down, but we don't want to descend below 1,800 feet at the moment. Tom asked me to simulate a go-around. I pushed the throttle full forward, retracted flaps to 20 degrees, and pushed the wheel forward to control the climb. When I was certain that I had a positive rate of climb, Tom asked me to retract flaps to 10 degrees, and once we had exceeded 65 knots, I retracted the flaps entirely and began a normal climb to 2,800 again. Tom and I did these maneuvers for another 30 minutes, and each time, I felt more confident about landing this airplane myself!

Time was once again wearing thin, and it was time to head home. Approached Midway from the south, contacted the tower, received a new squawk code. We were instructed to cross midfield and enter a left downwind for runway 4L. Tower told us that a Diamond Star was already in the pattern, and we would be number 2 behind him. It took me a minute or two to see the Diamond Star, but at last, I looked over my left shoulder and saw the Diamond Star on final. And now it was finally time to fly the traffic pattern myself.

Turned downwind. 2,000 RPMs. Added 10 degrees of flaps when I was abeam the touchdown point, and watched as the Diamond Star landed. Continued on the downwind until the threshold for 4L was 45 degrees over my left shoulder. Turned base, 1,600 RPMs, 20 degrees of flaps, trimmed off the control pressure. Looked out my left window as the threshold approached, just as Tower cleared us to land. Tom offered me reminders as I turned final, lined up with the runway quite well, reached the point when my glide was assured, throttle to idle, full flaps. The plane slowed and I held the pitch for an airspeed of 65 knots, trimming off the control pressure again. Tom did have his hand on his control wheel, but he was letting me do this. Leveled out just above the ground, pitched slightly upward to burn off airspeed to 45-50 knots, and the wheels settled right on the centerline. Yahtzee!

I landed on 4L at Midway... Not sure how much Tom helped me, but I don't think he did. I'm pretty sure I did this one myself!

Off the right side at F, crossed 4R with Tower's permission, and taxied to the apron. Had a little trouble centering the plane in the parking space, and actually put the plane in a position where we had to stop because if we continued taxiing we might clip the wing of another parked aircraft! Shut down the engine, and Tom helped me push the aircraft into place. Tied 'er down, and headed back to the FBO.

Well, my lesson wasn't perfect, but I think I learned more from this lesson than I had from any other. Had a bad landing, and a good one. Getting a feel for the traffic pattern, and I flew the 4L traffic pattern myself this time without losing my nerve. Landed at an uncontrolled field, made CTAF calls, and was able to mark two landings in my logbook for the day. Oh, and of course, I landed at Midway Airport by myself. What a ride!

Going away to visit friends for the weekend, but weather permitting, I'll be back in the cockpit next Wednesday. 'Till then...

- Airman Eric

06/10/2009 - "Don't Fixate!"

2009-06-12T13:53:00.006-05:00

Woke up Wednesday morning, looked out the window, and instantly knew that I would be flying. Checked the METAR; only a scattered cloud layer at 12,000 feet, and the forecast predicted even better weather as the afternoon went on. Sent a text message to Tom: "Weather looks good." Tom responded, "Yup." ;)

When I pulled up to the security checkpoint, I brought out my medical certificate and driver's license in case the guard wanted to see them. The guard recognized me from my first lesson (or Tom had told him to expect me), and he opened the gate for me. I parked my truck, walked into the Atlantic Aviation FBO lobby, and situated myself on a comfy sofa while I waited for Tom to return from his prior lesson. After a few minutes, Tom came in from the ramp.

We spoke briefly about my goals for the day. We planned to finish Attitude Flying, practice some medium bank turns, and begin working on stalls. I explained that I really need help so that I can learn to hold my altitude in the turns, and Tom agreed to help me with that. I also told Tom that I felt ready to talk to ATC myself. The phraseology I've picked up on VATSIM has helped me feel very comfortable on the radio, and Tom said that while he has never had a student talk on the radio in their second lesson, if I'm ready for it, he'll be happy to get me started. I also said that I would like to better control the airplane in the traffic pattern, and Tom said that I will be flying as much of the approach as possible. And we headed out to the aircraft.

This time, we are flying N737ME, another Cessna 172. This aircraft looks a little older than N172NT from my first lesson... in other words, this girl is well-loved. ;) I took out my checklists, which I have now laminated and strung together on a keyring for easy access. Pre-flight walkaround was uneventful, although I did everything myself with very little prompting from Tom. We roleplayed the calls I would make for departure clearance, request to taxi, and request for takeoff. Tom said he was impressed with my phraseology, so when it came time to call up clearance delivery, I made the call.

"Midway Clearance Delivery, 737ME is a Cessna 172 on the tower apron, departing on a heading of 180 with information Uniform."

"Cessna 737ME, maintain at or below 2,000 while in the Midway Class Charlie, squawk 5125." responded the controller.

"Will maintain at or below 2,000 while in the Charlie, squawking 5125, Cessna 737ME." I replied.

We are agreeing to stay below 2,000 feet while we are within 10 miles of Midway airport, and we are telling the controllers that we want to turn to a heading of 180, due south, after takeoff. The squawk code they give us will be used to identify us on radar.

We start the engine, taxi to the edge of the tower apron, perform a runup to 1,700 RPMs to check for irregular engine function. Everything looks good, so we switch over to Midway Ground.

"Midway Ground, 737ME is at the tower apron, ready to taxi."

"737ME, taxi runway 4L via F, Y, K, hold short 4R."

"Runway 4L via F, Y, K, hold short 4R, Cessna 737ME."

I open up the throttle to overcome the plane's inertia, but no sooner did I start to move than the ground controller came back, "Cessna 737ME, hold position."

I hold the brakes. "Holding position, 737ME."

Not sure why we're holding position, although I begin to look down taxiway F to see what the problem is. After a few seconds, I notice another Cessna 172 taxiing towards us. When he passes by, the ground controller gives us permission to go.

"Cessna 737ME, continue taxi, hold short 4R."

"Continue taxi, hold short 4R, Cessna 737ME."

Rolling out on taxiway F, holding the centerline quite well. When we had listened to the ATIS, it mentioned that taxiway K is closed between Y and F. When I was rolling on the field, I noticed that there were actual barricades on K, blocking off the short run. Can't really tell why the taxiway is closed, but then again, I don't have time to sit and wonder. I'm taxiing an aircraft!

I stop short of 4R, this time about 10 feet back from the hold short line. I watch as an executive jet touches down and rolls past us.

"Cessna 737ME, cross runway 4R for 4L, no delay."

"Crossing 4R for 4L, no delay, Cessna 737ME."

Rest of the taxi uneventful. Punching her up to 1,500 RPM's, and zipping across that runway. I pull her back to 1,000 RPMs, taxi to 4L just as I did in my first lesson, call Tower, get the takeoff clearance, and are cleared to go.

As we lift off, Tom reminds me that I need right rudder to compensate for P-Factor. I push the rudder down to what I thought was halfway, and after a second, Tom says, "More right rudder." I look down at the turn coordinator, and see that yes, P-Factor is still pulling the plane to the left. I start to apply more rudder, as Tom says, "Pull back on the control wheel, you want to climb out at 75 knots." I look down at the airspeed indicator and see that we were climbing at 85 knots. Too shallow and too fast. Not dangerous really, but definitely not efficient.

The "best rate of climb" speed for this aircraft is calculated at 75 knots because that is the airspeed that maximizes the rate of climb while sacrificing the least amount of time. To pull back harder on the climbout would slow the airplane down, so any improvement in the climb rate wouldn't be worth the fuel expended. To push forward on the climbout would speed the airplane up, but the plane would take longer to gain the desired cruise altitude, which might put the airplane in danger if there is a high obstacle near the runway, and would probably make the tower controller impatient because he's waiting for us to turn right to a heading of 180 before he clears the next aircraft to take off, and we can't make that turn until we are high enough to do it safely. In coming lessons, I will be working on holding runway heading and best rate of climb speed on climbout. I need to develop these skills because takeoff is second only to landing in terms of the most dangerous phases of flight, and holding the runway centerline/climbing out at best rate make the takeoff phase safer and more fuel efficient.

Passing 800 feet above the ground, I banked the aircraft to the right, making sure to hold a standard 30 degree bank. Once again, the nose of the aircraft started to pitch down in the turn, so I pulled the control wheel back to keep climbing. I had vowed in my previous lesson that I would level out at 1,900 feet. So, I'm watching the altitude indicator: 1,600... 1,700... 1,800... At about 1,850 I pushed forward on the control stick and stuck the needle at exactly 1,900!

"Yes!" I thought. The airspeed began to increase as I held the plane level. Tom said, "Nice job holding altitude. Trim off the control pressure." I pushed forward several notches on the trim wheel to help the plane stay level so that I could relax the forward pressure I was placing on the control wheel. After a few seconds, Tom said, "Pull the throttle back to 2,350 RPMs, and then trim." Oops. I must change throttle setting before trim, because every change in throttle setting will cause the attitude tendencies of the airplane to change. I followed directions, and it took me about 10 seconds, but after pushing forward on the trim quite a bit, I looked at the altimeter and it was holding at 1,900. Success!

"Here come the Alsip water towers," Tom said.

I looked out over the nose and saw those red, white and blue water towers on either side of Cicero Avenue. After only a few seconds of looking out at these towers, Tom warned, "You're still climbing! Keep it below 2,000 feet!"

I looked at the altimeter, and to my sincere surprise, it read 2,000, and the vertical speed indictor showed that we were climbing at 200 feet per minute. How in the world did that happen? I thought that I trimmed off the control pressure!

"Think about all the cues the plane is giving you," Tom encouraged. "Keep your scan going. Don't fixate on only one thing!"

In retrospect, I know exactly what happened. I was so fixated on leveling out at 1,900 that once I thought I had achieved my goal, I stopped worrying about it, and in fact, became fixated on the Alsip water towers and forgot to pay attention to the plane! After I trimmed off the control pressure and checked the altimeter to verify 1,900, I assumed that I was in level flight. Guess what I forgot to do!? I never looked over the nose of the plane and verified that I was in level flight attitude. I assumed that the plane would hold its current altitude after only a second or two of looking at the instruments. Even though the instruments showed level flight, the plane was actually climbing slightly... a climb which became more pronounced as I became fixated on the Alsip water towers.

I learned something very, very important at that moment. A pilot cannot become fixated on any one piece of information in the aircraft. He/she must continuously scan and process all information... instruments, the view of the horizon over the nose of the aircraft, the windowsill, the wing, the control pressure at the fingertips, the sound of the engine, the feeling in the seat of the pants. And a pilot must never become satisfied that the job is done until the plane is parked and he/she is enjoying a beverage in the FBO lobby. My mistake here was that I became satisfied that the plane was in level flight and then stopped worrying about it, when in fact the plane was climbing. I must work on my vigilance as a pilot, never stop flying the plane, and never "assume" anything!!!

Flew due south for about 10-15 minutes, until we arrived at the same general area where we did maneuvers in the first lesson. Tom is reminding me to use parts of the airplane to determine my attitude in relation to the ground. I'm very comfortable looking at the horizon over the nose of the airplane to determine if I am in level flight. Worked on medium bank turns for about 30 minutes. Tom tells me that the strut of the wing should seem to be parallel with the ground when we are in a standard rate turn. When the wings are banking, some of the lift which keeps the plane in the air is being used to turn the plane, and the pilot has to pull back on the control wheel to compensate for the decreasing lift. I am still getting feel for how much control pressure is required to maintain level flight. In my first couple turns, I still lost altitude, but it was more like 80 feet lost as opposed to the 150 feet that I lost in my first lesson!

"We're going to do another turn to the south," instructed Tom.

"I'm getting it," I told Tom. "I need to stay ahead of the airplane. I need to predict what she is going to do and compensate."

"Always keep your mind ahead of the airplane," Tom agreed.

The next few seconds of my lesson were simply incredible. It was like I had Obi-Wan in the back of my head, "Stay ahead of the plane, Eric! Stay ahead of the plane!"

In the next medium bank turn, I cleared the area, applied a little left rudder, banked the wings and pulled back on the control stick about two inches. Straightened out the ailerons at 30 degrees of bank. And instantly, Tom said, "There ya go!"

I didn't need to look at the instruments; I could feel it. I was in a medium bank turn and the plane was holding altitude. The turn was smooth, and I didn't feel like the plane was dropping down away from me as I had in the past, and I didn't feel like I was going to roll the plane over, either. I pretty much felt the same way that I had when the plane was in level flight.

I didn't move my hands at all, save a little extra back pressure on the control stick as the turn continued. I saw heading 180 coming around on the heading indicator. When I had only ten degrees to go, I smoothly rolled out of the turn, pushed slightly forward on the control wheel and then pulled it back to center, and released right rudder.

"See?" smiled Tom. "You can do it."

Thanks, Obi-Wan.

"We've only got about 10 minutes left out here. Let's do some slow flight. Pull the throttle back to 2,000 RPMs. As the plane slows down, it will want to pitch downward, so pull back on the control wheel to compensate. When you hold your altitude, the plane will slow down to 80 knots."

Dutifully obeyed. Had to pull back on the wheel just a little bit, and watched as the airspeed indicator shows 80 knots. Not so hard! I held the slow flight attitude for about 15 seconds, and then Tom asked me to push the throttle back up to 2,350 RPMs and resume normal cruise flight.

"Now we'll practice a stall," announced Tom.

A stall doesn't mean that the engine has failed. It means that one or both wings have stopped producing enough lift to keep the airplane flying, and it is caused by an excessively high angle of attack. Lift is generated when normal airflow above and below the wings applies force to the aircraft and counteracts the force of gravity. If the wings become pitched too steeply in relation to the wind, the air can no longer flow over the top of the wing smoothly. The air burbles over the top of the wing in random spirals, and the wing fails to produce enough lift to keep the plane flying in the desired attitude. Although a stall can occur at any airspeed and any attitude, the most likely times an airplane can stall is climbing out in a takeoff or slowing down in the traffic pattern for landing. We're going to purposely stall the airplane at high altitude so that I can learn what I must do to recover from the stall.

"Pull the throttle back to 2,000 RPMs again and hold your attitude for level flight."

The plane slowed down to 80 knots, and we are holding altitude at 2,500.

"Now, pull back on the control wheel to decrease our airspeed below the stall speed, which in this aircraft is 40 knots."

Boy, every bit of your survival instinct is telling you, "Don't do that! We'll fall out of the sky!" Tom had to keep telling me, "Pull back on the control wheel. Pull back more. Pull back more!" What happened next was quite interesting. The stall horn sounded, which is just a reed on the left wing which makes a whistling noise that lets you know the airflow over the wing is going to cause a stall. I kept pulling back on the control wheel, and I felt like we were almost vertical! Of course, this little airplane can't do that; but my upward pitch probably exceeded 40 degrees. And suddenly, quite smoothly, the plane stopped climbing altogether.

"There's the stall," Tom announced. "Push forward slightly on the control wheel."

I didn't really need to do much of anything! The plane stalled in a nose-up attitude, but within a second, the nose dropped down about 10 degrees, and the plane started flying again. It's not like we were going to fall out of the sky; as soon as the stall happened, the plane pretty much placed itself in a lower attitude, stopping the stall and resuming climbing flight. This exercise reassured me that the plane is designed to stay in the air; it wants to fly! The remedy to a stall is simple; decrease the angle of attack. The airflow will resume over the wing, and the plane will begin to fly again! I'll be practicing more stalls in the future... for now, it's time to head home.

A couple interesting tidbits as we returned to Midway. We called up the tower, he gave us a squawk code, we were headed in. Then we heard Bill's voice (he's the owner of the flight school) on the radio as he was cleared to take off in the aircraft that I used in my first lesson, Cessna 172NT! Tower told Bill to turn to the south heading 180, and then advised us, "Traffic is a Cessna 172, at your 1 o'clock, 3 miles." We were both looking for Bill for least 30 seconds. Tower had given Bill the same traffic advisory, and he was looking for us, too. Honestly, we didn't spot him until we were within a mile of him, but at last, there he was! We passed each other in the sky about 3/4 of a mile apart... we could almost wave at each other.

"Cessna 737ME, traffic is a Citation, at your 10 o'clock, 3 miles, on final for 4R. Report him in sight."

Tom and I looked out the left window, and I saw him pretty quickly. It can be pretty tricky to spot aircraft when you're flying; this Citation looked like a little black dot against a gray cityscape.

"Cessna 737ME has the Citation," I replied.

"Cessna 737ME, make right base behind that Citation for Runway 4L."

"Right base behind the Citation for Runway 4L, 737ME."

I turned to the northwest, and watched as the Citation continued his approach for 4R. Within a couple minutes, we were behind him, making our turn to 4L.

Tower cleared us to land. Tom asked me to pull the RPMs back to 1,600 and extend 20 degrees of flaps. I'm still getting used to interpreting the sight picture of the runway on approach, but I felt that we were a little high. Tom told me to push forward on the control wheel, pull the throttle back to idle, and extend full flaps. It was surprising to me how quickly the airplane slowed down; I felt almost as if we were floating just short of the runway threshold. Altitude still decreasing, but still a little high.

"I'm going to help you with this," Tom reassured me.

10 feet over the runway now. We're probably 500 feet behind the numbers, but we've still got plenty of runway left.

"Pull back on the control wheel." And I did... the stall warning horn sounded! "Not so much!" Okay!

Touchdown! A little far down the runway, but Tower asked us to make a 180 on the runway, and taxi back to F. Crossed 4R with their blessing, and headed back to the tower apron.

"We were a little high on the approach. I should have told you to pull back to 1,600 RPMs sooner," Tom said. Oh, well... you know what they say... any landing that you can walk away from... ;)

Taxied to the apron, parked, tied 'er down. I looked down the ramp, and saw the most interesting turboprop that I had ever seen, parked on the ramp. Walked closer, and determined that it was a Piaggio Aero, an Italian turboprop with the propellers at the rear. Had never seen one of those before, but I snapped a picture, shown to the right.

Lesson #2 in the bag! Getting more comfortable holding altitude in turns, but I'm still not as comfortable as I would like to be. We're going to be doing ground reference maneuvers in the next lesson, which will help me be more confident in the traffic pattern, and we'll be doing simulated landings which will help me get a grip on approaches. 'Till then...

- Airman Eric

06/09/2009 - "Go or no go?"

2009-06-11T16:40:00.008-05:00

No matter how much a pilot's heart races at the thought of taking to the skies once again, he/she must temper this passion with the question, "Go or no go?" Already had two "no go's" this week! The weather has not been kind!

I had scheduled a lesson for Monday evening at 4 p.m., but when I woke up in the morning and checked the TAF (Terminal Area Forecast) on http://www.aviationweather.gov/, it showed visibility 2 miles, cloud ceiling 1,000 overcast, and wind gusts up to 25 knots. VFR aircraft may only fly in 3 miles visibility, and the pilot must be able to be clear of clouds at all times (500 feet below, 1,000 feet above, and 2,000 feet horizontally). These clouds were too low, visibility too poor, and the wind gusts of 25 knots are a bit much for our little Cessna. I texted Tom with the weather report, and he said that he would check the new forecast when it comes out at 1800Z. And he did. No improvement. I was greatly disappointed, but we rescheduled the lesson for Tuesday at 1 p.m.

On Tuesday morning, I woke up with a start. Charged to the computer and checked the TAF. Visibility 6 miles in the afternoon, calmer wind, but a ceiling of only 1,000 feet. Tom and I had high hopes that the clouds would burn off in time for our lesson, but when I was pulling up to Atlantic, Tom texted me and told me to come to the API office. When I arrived, he pointed out that the ceiling (lowest cloud layer classifed as Broken or Overcast) had risen to 1,200 feet, but still not high enough for us. Sadness!

Met up with Tom and did some ground school work instead. Discussed the practical test standards which I must meet in order to earn the PPL. I will be tested using a combination of written tests, an oral exam, and a checkride in the airplane. Tom told me that the examiner is a stickler for details, but I must also establish the fact that I possess excellent judgment. If I were asked "What type of weather is required for VFR flight?", I would respond by quoting the VFR minimums according to regulation, but also explain that if a METAR shows weather that is better than minimums, but very close to those minimums, I would still wait to fly. Even if the weather at my departure airport is above minimums, I might encounter below-minimum weather after takeoff, which would in the least cause me to divert from my flight plan and cause inconvenience, but at most might result in an accident. A pilot must constantly ensure safety of the aircraft and passengers, and must possess the judgment to ensure that safety.

Covered the four turning tendencies generated by the physics of the airplane: P-Factor, Spiral Slipstream, Torque, and Gyroscopic Precession.

* P-Factor: When the propeller is turning with a high angle of attack, such as in a climb, the downstroke side of the propeller has a higher angle of attack than the upstroke side, and creates more thrust on the downstroke side. This tends to pull the plane to the left at high power and low airspeed. Very prevalent on takeoff. Countered with right rudder.

* Spiral Slipstream: The propeller causes a spiral of air to rotate about the airplane in flight, and this spiral of air strikes the vertical stabilizer, yawing the airplane to the left. Also prevalent at lower airspeeds. Countered with right rudder.

* Torque: According to Isaac Newton's third law, any action has an equal and opposite reaction. Since the propeller is turning clockwise (from the pilot's point of view), it also generates an opposite motion which tends to roll the entire airplane counter-clockwise. Countered with a little bit of right bank, although most modern airplanes are designed to account for this torque in level flight by centering the propeller shaft slightly to the right.

* Gyroscopic Precession: The spinning propeller acts as a gyroscope at the front of the aircraft. When the aircraft climbs, it creates downward (opposite) pressure on the shaft, which translates to forward pressure on the bottom of the propeller and a right-turn tendency as the force on the shaft is felt 90 degrees later in the propeller rotation. When the aircraft is pitching downward for a descent, the upward pressure on the shaft translates to a left-turn tendency. Countered with opposite rudder (left rudder in a climb, right rudder in a descent).

So, the ground school lesson was uneventful, but necessary. Bought four books: Private Pilot Practical Test Standards for Airplane Single Engine Land and Sea, FAR/AIM (Federal Aviation Regulations / Aeronautical Information Manual), Pilot's Handbook of Aeronautical Knowledge, and the Private Pilot Oral Exam Guide. I'm very impressed by the full color illustrations in the Aeronautical Knowledge handbook. I'm going to be doing a LOT of reading.

Are you ready for me to get back in the plane? Me, too!

Headed home; looked over all of my materials. Watched more of the DVD course; learning about ground reference maneuvers and turns around a point. Anxiously waiting for the weather to clear up. Tomorrow is another day.

- Airman Eric

06/04/2009 - "Yahtzee!"

2009-06-09T23:06:00.011-05:00

After about five years of dreaming about it, two years of talking about it, and one year of planning for it, I have finally had my first flight lesson. It was more amazing than I could have imagined. I am taking lessons through API Flight School (Aviation Professionals, Incorporated), from Chicago Midway Airport (MDW). That's right... I'm taking flying lessons at Chicago's second busiest airport, and I'm going to be talking to ATC from day one! Today marks the beginning of my journey to the Private Pilot's License, which I hope to have by August 31st.

The weather was perfect... 65 degrees, barely any wind, and only a light sheet of clouds at 25,000 feet. I pulled up to the flight school, at about 4:40. I met my instructor, Tom, with whom I instantly hit it off. After a quick chat, we got in our cars and drove down the street to the Atlantic Aviation FBO.

Boy, was it interesting in there! Tom told me they've recently remodeled, and the whole building is a pretty cool combination of classic and modern. In the lobby, there were several big, comfortable leather sofa chairs which gave a temporary respite to a number of corporate jet pilots, who awaited their passengers as their Citation X's cooled down on the tarmac. I saw the flight planning and weather stations, where pilots submit their flight plans to ATC and check on weather conditions. There was also a very LARGE coffee machine, complimentary of course, but I wasn't really in the mood for any. Tom filled a pretty big cup of coffee, and we headed out to the tower apron to check out the plane, a Cessna 172, registry # N172NT.

Tom provided me with checklists and guided me through the pre-flight walkaround. The entire plane must be looked over. We examined the instrument panel, tested the master switch, examined all of the rivets, moved the control surfaces to make sure they moved freely, looked underneath the ailerons to make sure that all of the bolts were in place and tightened, examined the tires and brakes. We sumped a little bit of fuel from each wing using a clear plastic sample cup to ensure that there was no water in the fuel. "Sumping", just like a sump pump in your basement, means to draw a little bit of fuel from the wing and examine it. Water is heavier than aviation gas, and will sink to the bottom of the tank, so by sumping fuel in the lowest place of the fuel tanks you can be sure to remove any water that may have collected in the tank since the last time the plane was flown. Aviation gas is tinted blue so that you can clearly see any sediment or foreign matter in the fuel as well. The fuel was clean, and I just dumped the sample on the ground. It was time to get going. The plane was tied down at three places... one rope on each wing, and one at the tail. I untied the ropes and threw them clear of the aircraft, and at last, we were ready to fly.

... On a side note... the right main tire on this aircraft was quite bald... Tom thinks that pilots have been favoring that tire on landing. He assures me that it is only a minor problem, because the tire is properly inflated, but notes that this plane is up for FAA inspection in 40 hours, and a mechanic will replace the tire at that time.

Started 'er up, tuned radios to Midway Clearance Delivery. Told them that we are a VFR Cessna 172 on the tower apron, and we want VFR departure to the south. Clearance Delivery keys us into the ATC system so that other controllers will have information about our aircraft. He tells us to contact ground when are ready to taxi.

We roll to the edge of the tower apron, and set the brakes to do a 10-second runup to 1,700 RPM's, watching the oil and AMP gauges for anything out of the ordinary. Everything feels good. We contact ground, and he tells us to taxi Runway 4L via F and K, and hold short of 4R. I taxied the aircraft, and first, it was a little difficult to differentiate between the rudder controls at the bottom of the foot pedals and the brakes at the top of the foot pedals. I brought the aircraft to a premature stop a couple times, but then I figured out that if I push the pedals with heel pressure, I tend to turn the aircraft, and if I push the pedals with toe pressure, I tend to brake the aircraft. I actually got quite good at using the rudder pedals to stay centered on the taxiway, and a little bit of braking in the turns helped me get through the turns a little more efficiently. By braking the right wheel while making a right turn, the plane is able to turn more sharply, which actually allowed me to taxi faster. Tom stopped us well short of 4R, and I enjoyed watching a Southwest 737 touch down on 4R and roll past us at more than 100 knots. As soon as he went by, ground control told us to continue taxi across 4R. I opened up the throttle to about 1,200 RPM's to get the plane moving, then scaled it back to 1,000 RPM's once I had overcome the plane's inertia. As we crossed 4R, I looked out of my left window with amazement as I could see THREE aircraft lined up on final, headed straight for me! The first one was at least 3 miles out, and wouldn't arrive for another minute or two, but boy, it was pretty intense crossing an active runway for the first time.

We pulled up to 4L @ Z, and I stopped the aircraft to hold short of the runway, about 5 feet behind the hold short line. Tom said I was a little too close to the hold short line for his preference, but he said I was fine because at least I was still behind it. He wants me about 10 feet back from the hold short line because it would sure suck if the wake turbulence from a landing aircraft flipped us over! Yes, Boss...

Moment of truth: We called up MDW Tower on 118.7, told him we were ready to go. The takeoff clearance came quickly: "Wind 060@7, turn right heading 180, runway 4L cleared for takeoff." Opened up the throttle and followed the yellow taxiway line to the center of runway 4L. Kept her rolling. Pushed her up to full power, keeping one eye on the runway centerline and one eye on the airspeed indicator. At 60 knots, Tom told me to pull back slowly on the control wheel, and with a level of power that quite surprised me, we were airborne. I've taken off in plenty of commercial aircraft that are 10 times as powerful as this little Cessna, but when you're the one with your hands on the wheel, you feel like you are controlling the most powerful machine in the world!

At about 800 feet AGL, with Tom's guidance, I banked the aircraft and began a right turn to the south. My first bank felt like I was going to roll the whole plane over. I looked down at the attitude indicator, sure that I was almost inverted ... Nope, just barely 20 degrees of bank, not even a standard rate turn! I decided I was happy with the 20 degree bank, and with Tom's help, held the aircraft's pitch to maintain a climbing airspeed of 75 knots. We levelled off at 1,900 feet, and I pushed the control wheel forward to get our speed up to about 100 knots indicated. After less than a minute, I noticed that I was still climbing a little bit, and Tom took the airplane for a few seconds to get us trimmed and stabilized for level flight at 1,900... at the very bottom of the MDW class Charlie.

You hear horror stories about bumpy rides in small aircraft, and I know that one day I will have to face that. But on this day, I was completely astonished by how smooth the ride was. I kept her straight and level, making small rudder corrections to keep the plane facing due south, and followed Cicero Avenue. Tom pointed out several landmarks that will one day help me find my way home. We spotted the two large red, white and blue Alsip water towers. There is one on each side of Cicero Avenue, and we flew between them like a football during a well-kicked field goal. Once we passed the water towers, Tom called MDW tower and told them that we were leaving the Charlie airspace to the south. Tower acknowledged, and we turned off the radios. We're a VFR aircraft (Visual Flight Rules), which means that when we're flying free of restricted airspace, we don't have to talk to anyone... we are responsible for our own separation from other aircraft and obstacles. We can just FLY!

Tom pointed out a couple regional fields that will help me find my way back home: Frankfort (a private airstrip), Meadow Creek (private), and Bult (C56). We might be landing at one of these fields during future lessons. Tom told me to always look for the large orange radar antenna in Frankfort, because it means that I am 15 miles from Midway. It took me a long time to spot that radar antenna... it was so tiny against all of the other high-resolution scenery (that was an FS9 joke... ha ha), but I found it. Finally, after reaching what I imagine is pretty close to the Peotone (EON) VOR, we were far enough from Midway to start practicing some maneuvers, and we got to work!

I worked on straight and level flight, trimming the aircraft to keep a steady altitude. At API, they call their system "Attitude Flying". No, this doesn't mean, "you need to have a good attitude before you go flying"! "Attitude" refers to the aircraft's relationship with the ground. Tom talked about using the nose of the plane, the window sills, and the tips of the wings as a visual reference point to help me determine whether I am climbing, descending, banking, etc. Tom asked me to pull the wheel back and start a gentle climb of about 500 fpm. He covered up the altimeter and vertical speed indicator, and asked me to look out of the left forward window panel, and level out the plane by judging the angle the plane is making over the ground. It is important for a beginning pilot to use visual cues rather than flight instruments to determine whether he is climbing or descending, because the instruments actually only register changes in the plane's position after 6-9 seconds of real time. Thus, if a pilot concentrates solely on the instruments, he/she isn't going to notice changes in the plane's altitude and attitude until 6-9 seconds after the change is already happening.

Tom asked me to pull back on the control wheel until the nose of the airplane touched the horizon. I did so, and began a steady climb of 500 feet per minute. Then, Tom covered up the altimeter and vertical speed indicator and asked me to push the nose forward until I was certain that I was in level flight once again. He asked me to reference the nose, the window sills, and the wing's relationship with the horizon. When I was satisfied that I had achieved level flight, I said, "Yahtzee!" Tom uncovered the instruments, and checked my attitude. Well, I am pleased to report that I called "Yahtzee" when the plane was very, very close to level flight. Tom was pleased. (No... Tom didn't ask me to call "Yahtzee"... I came up with that one on my own...)

We did some standard rate turns. Now, I rolled the plane over to a full 30 degrees of left bank, and looking out the left window I could almost see straight to the ground. When you are doing a standard rate turn, the plane tends to lose altitude, so you need to not only bank the wings, but also pull back on the yoke so that you hold your altitude in the turn. I did about 3 standard rate turns in this lesson, and never managed to hold altitude perfectly. I only dropped 100-200 feet in the turn, so it's not like anything was wrong, but I know I can do better than that. This will be one of my major focuses in the lessons to come. We did maneuvers like this for a little less than an hour. Tom complimented me on my ability to hold level flight and roll out on headings. Unfortunately, daylight was wearing thin, and it was time to head home.

We turned to the north, and I lined myself with Cicero Avenue again to follow it straight to Midway. I noticed that the heading indicator had precessed about 10 degrees during our turns. "Precessed" means that over time, the indicator loses an accurate representation of the plane's heading. As I lined myself up with Cicero, which I know is a north-south street, I noticed that the heading indicator was showing a heading of 350. I asked Tom if the heading indicator had precessed, and he agreed that it had, so I fixed it.

Within 10 minutes, I saw the Alsip water towers again. Tom asked me to descend to 1,900 as we continued north. And suddenly, Tom said, "Do you see Midway?" I looked forward over the plane's nose, and there was the airport, like a vast, bald rectangle of space in the middle of hundreds of buildings. I was so surprised that I hadn't noticed it eariler. I briefly glanced up and noticed O'Hare International Airport (ORD) just on the horizon to the northwest... I could even pick out runway 4R/22L! Tom contacted Midway Tower, "N172NT, a Cessna 172, 10 miles south of Midway, requesting full stop." The tower came back with pattern entry instructions, "N2NT, cross midfield at or below 1,700, make left downwind, runway 4L." Tom asked me to descend to 1,650 and pull the RPMs back to 2,000. I overflew the field, and looked down as a 737 landed directly under me!

As we passed 4L right at the center of the airport, Tom asked me to pull the RPMs back to 1,500, and turn left for a downwind to 4L. At this point, I was becoming overwhelmed. Big 737's landing on 4R, and we were going to be landing right next to them. I could hear my voice becoming more stressed, and I turned the airplane for the downwind, but I rolled out of the turn late and now I was cutting the pattern too close. Tom told me to bank to the right a little and straighten out my downwind. I told Tom, "I'm a little freaked out." Instantly, Tom said, "I have the airplane." And I said, "Thank you!"

Tom straightened out our downwind, continued descending below 1,200, and turned left base for 4L. Straight ahead, about 100-200 feet below us and 1/2 mile away, was a Southwest 737 landing on 4R. As a first-lesson student, I can only describe this aircraft to you as "HUGE"! Of course, there was nothing wrong with our proximity to the aircraft since he was landing on the parallel runway, but it is both unnerving and thrilling to be flying a tiny little Cessna next to those big guys!

Just as we were turning short final, the pilot of this 737 comes on the Tower frequency and says, "Tower, you see this Cessna headed straight for me? He's really close!" In my mind, I'm wondering, "Did I do something wrong?" Tom just snickered. "I'm not even past the centerline. What a jerk!" And it's true. There is nothing wrong with a Cessna landing on 4L while a 737 lands on 4R. This Southwest pilot was whining because he wants to be the only plane at the airport. What does he think GA aircraft are gonna do? Go sit in the hanger until 2 in the morning when there is no other traffic? Of course not! Us little Cessnas have just as much right to use the airport as the big jets do.

And now comes my absolute favorite part of my first flight lesson. Midway Tower vidicated us. This Southwest pilot whined about us landing on the parallel runway, like Southwest owns the whole airport and we have no right to be there. And the Midway Tower controller responded to this pilot by saying, "I told you where that Cessna was TWO TIMES already. I told you he was landing on 4L."

Tom was so pissed at the Southwest pilot that he didn't even hear what the tower controller said. He touched the aircraft down right on the centerline, and the bump I felt on touchdown was akin to hitting a medium size pothole in the city. He slowed down, exited the runway to the right at F, and with Tower's blessing, crossed 4R and stopped on the other side. We contacted MDW Ground, were given taxi clearance, and started to make our way back to the tower apron.

"Man, that pisses me off. I was nowhere near him." Tom scowled.

"Tom?", I said, "Didn't you hear what the tower controller said? He chewed the pilot out on the frequency. He vindicated us."

"Really?" Tom smiled. "Wow. That makes my day! Gotta love the controllers!" And we DO.

Pulled onto the tower apron. Pulled the plane into the parking spot, but facing backwards because the parking spot is almost right next to a barbed wire fence and there is no room to come at the spot from behind. I turned the plane on a dime by pushing the RPMs to 1,200 and tapping the right brake so that the plane could park facing forward. Of course, I missed the parking spot centerline by just a little bit. So get this... Tom told me to cut the engine, turn off all of the switches, and take the keys out of the ignition. Tom and I got out of the aircraft. Tom sat on the horizontal stabilizer on the back of the plane, lifting the front end into the air so I could push the entire plane into the parking spot. It took two tries, but we got it. I tied the plane down using the chains and ropes provided, and used a special knot Tom showed me that will hold the plane down securely but be easy for the next pilot to untie. And with that, we headed back to our cars.

One more funny bit. Remember how I sumped a little bit of fuel during the pre-flight walkaround to check for water in the fuel? Tom had given me a plastic sample cup to do this, and when I was done with the walkaround, I put the sample cup in my shirt pocket. Unfortunately for Tom, I didn't notice that the sample cup was STILL in my pocket until we left the airport grounds and got back to the flight school.

"Hey, Tom! Look what was in my pocket!" I said, holding up the sample cup.

"Well," Tom smiled, "I'll just have to put the cup back in the plane when I come in tomorrow morning." What a patient guy.

A thoroughly pleasant and useful lesson. Tom gave me several compliments... I was the best first-time student he's ever had. Looks like 300 hours of flying on VATSIM is going to be a tremendous advantage. THANK YOU, VATSIM!

1 and 1/2 hours in the air for my first lesson. Bought a pilot's log, recorded my hours, Tom signed off on them. Purchased a DVD ground school course from Sporty's Pilot Shop that will be a terrific study aid to help me complete upcoming FAA written and oral exams. Some of the acting is cheesy, but the information is valuable and thorough.

Huge kudos and thanks to Instructor Tom. A flight instructor should always let the student fly as much as possible, even on the first lesson, and Tom gave me complete control over the aircraft from the very beginning. Can't wait to work on those standard rate turns, can't wait to fly the traffic pattern correctly and turn to final myself.

Can't wait to go back.

Next lesson is on Monday evening... I promise myself that I will continue to write about each lesson, step by step, on my road to the Private Pilot's License. If I'm committed to flying, I'm going to stay committed to writing about it.

'Till next time....

- Airman Eric