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

08/06/2009 - "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

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

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

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

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

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

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

06/22/2009 - "Much better!"

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