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

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, (now replaced by Synergy Flight Center). 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 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 takeoff video... Her phone interpreted the propeller as a strange black shape in front of our plane... 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."

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!"

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."

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."

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?"

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