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

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

Another lesson where everything turned out right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Awesome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's not easy!

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

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

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

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

Actually...

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

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

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

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

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

"What!?" Tom smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

It's all good.

- Airman Eric

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

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