My last post here is to let you all know that the Olympia Pilot has decided to hang up the headset.
For those of you who know me and how passionate I've been about aviation for so long, this may surprise you. It sure has surprised me! I never expected 20 hours of flight training to bring me to the conclusion that flying around in a small plane, under my own control, is not for me. But it has. Here's why.
There is a subjective continuum of risk and safety and comfort, and everyone has to find their own point on that continuum. This is of course true of any hobby or pursuit--I think we all know (or know of) people who have died in accidents just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it is especially true of flying, since it is so unforgiving. You will not find me claiming that general aviation flying is unsafe. Statistics demonstrate that it is quite safe, especially for conscientious pilots who follow the rules and stay within their limits.
But those statistics have to be lined up against each individual's comfort level. And I've come to the conclusion that I'm not comfortable. Much of this is due to turbulence. Despite having flown a quarter of a million miles commercially in the past three years, and experienced plenty of the bumpy air that goes along with any flight in an aircraft, I somehow thought it wouldn't be an issue. It was. On my solo flights especially, I found the constant bumpiness from thermals and unstable air to be extremely unsettling, to the point that it sapped the enjoyment out of flying. Experienced pilots, including my instructor, told me it would get better with experience. My instincts told me it would take too long to get that experience and comfort level, and during that uncomfortable time I'd need to continue learning the craft of flying, with all the additional risk that inexperience brings. I've judged that to be below my point on the risk/safety continuum.
I've also been unable to come to grips with all the little things that tend to go wrong in a small airplane, especially one that's 30 years old like TP. The past few times I've flown, the radios have had minor problems (including some pilots reporting them inoperative at times), and on the other 172 I've flown, the directional gyro has become unreliable. I am not at all saying these aircraft are unairworthy, and I have reminded myself of Glacier's excellent safety record. These mechanical issues are minor problems that to an experienced and comfortable pilot represent inconveniences at best. But to this somewhat anxious student, they represent one more factor in that risk profile assessment.
I have the greatest respect for people who complete private pilot training and enjoy aviation. It is a challenge in many dimensions, and hats off to anyone who achieves it. I also have the greatest admiration and esteem for Joel, who is a terrific instructor. If anyone in the Olympia area is looking for a good instructor, and you want to work with someone who will adjust to your particular capabilities and learning style, give Glacier a call and request Joel.
I appreciate the support from friends and family, and hope you've enjoyed reading about my adventure here!
--Scott
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Catching up II: A new state in the logbook
Sunday's solo flight was to Astoria, Oregon (KAST). My first takeoff and landing outside of Washington!
The goal was just to build cross-country hours, but I figured I may as well go someplace new and interesting. Astoria is right at the mouth of the mighty Columbia River, and is connected to Washington by a long bridge that carries US 101 about 2 miles across the water. The north end of runway 13/31 is right at the river's edge, southwest of the city.
I met Joel at KOLM for the sign-off. The weather was forecast to be marginal in Astoria and inland from the coast, but was good at Olympia. We discussed options if the weather went south, and we went over my planned route very carefully. Southwestern Washington is quite hilly--it is really a low spot between the Olympic Mountains to the north, and the Coast Range of Oregon and California to the south. But the tops of some of the hills are around 3000', so nothing to trifle with, especially when ceilings are around 2500. So I planned a route through low spots and valleys--25 miles south of Olympia, then directly west to the coast, then down the coastline to the Columbia, and across the mouth to Astoria. Estimated time enroute: 45 minutes.
As I approached the coast, I had to descend from my planned altitude of 3500' to around 2000' to remain 500' below the clouds. I also navigated around several billowing areas of cumulus clouds, which are sure to bring both turbulence and possibly precipitation that I prefer to avoid. It was a very pretty ride, though the weather really had me focused on things other than sightseeing.
The approach and landing at Astoria were unremarkable, except that the headwind on landing was 11 knots. Because it was right down the runway it was really no problem, but I needed much less power and even a little slip on final to get down to 60, my usual final approach speed. The Astoria airport is small and quaint--the terminal building has a small desk for Seaport Airlines (fairly new commercial service to Portland and Astoria from Boeing Field in Seattle), as well as a pilot's lounge. I used the phone in the lounge to close my flight plan (it wouldn't do for Deb to receive a call from the FAA asking why they hadn't heard from me), then I headed back to TP for the return trip.
On the way home--up the river to Kelso then a left turn up I-5 for home--I encountered a lot of turbulence. It's the only thing I really don't like about flying. It makes me anxious, and frankly saps the joy out of it. I've shared this with Joel, as well as the folks at the Pacific Northwest Flying Forum, and all have said I'll get used to it over time. So I guess in the meantime I'll try to avoid it, keep the wings level, and ride it out!
The goal was just to build cross-country hours, but I figured I may as well go someplace new and interesting. Astoria is right at the mouth of the mighty Columbia River, and is connected to Washington by a long bridge that carries US 101 about 2 miles across the water. The north end of runway 13/31 is right at the river's edge, southwest of the city.
I met Joel at KOLM for the sign-off. The weather was forecast to be marginal in Astoria and inland from the coast, but was good at Olympia. We discussed options if the weather went south, and we went over my planned route very carefully. Southwestern Washington is quite hilly--it is really a low spot between the Olympic Mountains to the north, and the Coast Range of Oregon and California to the south. But the tops of some of the hills are around 3000', so nothing to trifle with, especially when ceilings are around 2500. So I planned a route through low spots and valleys--25 miles south of Olympia, then directly west to the coast, then down the coastline to the Columbia, and across the mouth to Astoria. Estimated time enroute: 45 minutes.
As I approached the coast, I had to descend from my planned altitude of 3500' to around 2000' to remain 500' below the clouds. I also navigated around several billowing areas of cumulus clouds, which are sure to bring both turbulence and possibly precipitation that I prefer to avoid. It was a very pretty ride, though the weather really had me focused on things other than sightseeing.
The approach and landing at Astoria were unremarkable, except that the headwind on landing was 11 knots. Because it was right down the runway it was really no problem, but I needed much less power and even a little slip on final to get down to 60, my usual final approach speed. The Astoria airport is small and quaint--the terminal building has a small desk for Seaport Airlines (fairly new commercial service to Portland and Astoria from Boeing Field in Seattle), as well as a pilot's lounge. I used the phone in the lounge to close my flight plan (it wouldn't do for Deb to receive a call from the FAA asking why they hadn't heard from me), then I headed back to TP for the return trip.
On the way home--up the river to Kelso then a left turn up I-5 for home--I encountered a lot of turbulence. It's the only thing I really don't like about flying. It makes me anxious, and frankly saps the joy out of it. I've shared this with Joel, as well as the folks at the Pacific Northwest Flying Forum, and all have said I'll get used to it over time. So I guess in the meantime I'll try to avoid it, keep the wings level, and ride it out!
Catching up I: Night Flight
Last Friday, Joel and I finished up my night flying requirements: eight more takeoffs and landings in the dark. No big deal, including the two I did without the landing light (a little unsettling, and a little rougher than I like, but acceptable).
There was one other aircraft in the pattern with us, doing the same thing.
To cap off the evening, on my last circuit, we departed the pattern and I did a sweeping left turn around Olympia, so I had a great view of the city out my window. State capitol, waterfront, a busy Friday evening downtown...just beautiful!
There was one other aircraft in the pattern with us, doing the same thing.
To cap off the evening, on my last circuit, we departed the pattern and I did a sweeping left turn around Olympia, so I had a great view of the city out my window. State capitol, waterfront, a busy Friday evening downtown...just beautiful!
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Solo to Kelso
Last weekend I did my first solo cross-country flight, to Kelso, Washington (KKLS).
It was a beautiful day, but a very bumpy ride due to convection from the sun warming the terrain. It was so turbulent that it was uncomfortable in spots.
I navigated fine by pilotage (i.e., visual reference to points on the ground) to Kelso, which is about 50 miles south of Olympia. Kelso is a bit of a tricky airport to get into. There is terrain to the north, the Columbia River to the west, and terrain to the east. The river of course presents no particular hazard, but the terrain requires a somewhat steep descent.
There wasn't much traffic (surprising for such a nice day). I entered the traffic pattern a little high and a little fast, and for whatever reason I didn't compensate enough by lengthening my downwind to bleed off both. I was still too high and fast on final, and I got rid of much of it with a bit of slipping, but I still flared a little too fast and bounced the landing. That is, Tango Papa touched the runway and, obeying Newton's third law, bounced back into the air. About 15 feet above the runway, she lost her momentum and began a stall, which could have been embarrassing (but not terribly dangerous) if I hadn't reacted by applying some power and pointing the nose down a bit. Things stablized on the second try and I actually set her down pretty easy. I was just pretty annoyed with myself for not stabilizing the approach in the first place!
My plan had been to depart Kelso and do some touch-and-go landings at Toledo (KTDO). As I approached, monitoring the advisory frequency, I heard a jump plane pilot announce that he had just released parachutists north of the airport. Wanting no part of that, I pointed TP for home and did a few pattern circuits for practice at KOLM.
I hope I get more accustomed to turbulent air, because as I'm finding, for one reason or another, there is almost always some turbulence. I'm going to work on relaxing and see if that helps. There will certainly be plenty of chances to practice: I have mostly solo cross-country flights to go.
It was a beautiful day, but a very bumpy ride due to convection from the sun warming the terrain. It was so turbulent that it was uncomfortable in spots.
I navigated fine by pilotage (i.e., visual reference to points on the ground) to Kelso, which is about 50 miles south of Olympia. Kelso is a bit of a tricky airport to get into. There is terrain to the north, the Columbia River to the west, and terrain to the east. The river of course presents no particular hazard, but the terrain requires a somewhat steep descent.
There wasn't much traffic (surprising for such a nice day). I entered the traffic pattern a little high and a little fast, and for whatever reason I didn't compensate enough by lengthening my downwind to bleed off both. I was still too high and fast on final, and I got rid of much of it with a bit of slipping, but I still flared a little too fast and bounced the landing. That is, Tango Papa touched the runway and, obeying Newton's third law, bounced back into the air. About 15 feet above the runway, she lost her momentum and began a stall, which could have been embarrassing (but not terribly dangerous) if I hadn't reacted by applying some power and pointing the nose down a bit. Things stablized on the second try and I actually set her down pretty easy. I was just pretty annoyed with myself for not stabilizing the approach in the first place!
My plan had been to depart Kelso and do some touch-and-go landings at Toledo (KTDO). As I approached, monitoring the advisory frequency, I heard a jump plane pilot announce that he had just released parachutists north of the airport. Wanting no part of that, I pointed TP for home and did a few pattern circuits for practice at KOLM.
I hope I get more accustomed to turbulent air, because as I'm finding, for one reason or another, there is almost always some turbulence. I'm going to work on relaxing and see if that helps. There will certainly be plenty of chances to practice: I have mostly solo cross-country flights to go.
Preparing for the written exam
My FAA written exam--officially called the Knowledge Test--is coming up.
I can schedule it whenever I want, just as long as it's before my practical test (aka checkride and oral exam).
It's been difficult to study lately, as I've had some pretty intense business trips that leave me exhausted at the end of every workday. But I'll need to buckle down soon.
I have found exams4pilots to be very useful as a study aid. All the current FAA written exam questions (a random 60 of which will be on my test) are available. I am consistently getting 90% or better, but I really want to shoot for 100.
I can schedule it whenever I want, just as long as it's before my practical test (aka checkride and oral exam).
It's been difficult to study lately, as I've had some pretty intense business trips that leave me exhausted at the end of every workday. But I'll need to buckle down soon.
I have found exams4pilots to be very useful as a study aid. All the current FAA written exam questions (a random 60 of which will be on my test) are available. I am consistently getting 90% or better, but I really want to shoot for 100.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Night cross-country
Last night Joel and I met at Glacier at 8 pm for my required night cross-country flight.
I had planned out a flight from KOLM to Port Angeles (KCLM), about 65 direct-line miles north northwest of Olympia. At night, there is an emphasis on radio navigation rather than visual waypoints, since even decent-sized towns are often hard to see from aloft. I used two VOR beacons (one at Olympia and one at Paine Field in Everett) in the flight plan, relying on both the directional and distance information they provide to navigate in the dark. As it turned out, there were more than a few visible waypoints along the way (airports, the Bangor navy yard north of Bremerton, and the towns of Port Townsend and Sequim), but I really enjoyed the planning and execution of a flight based largely on radio navigation. When I go for my instrument rating eventually, this will be an important skill and I don't mind getting familiar with it now.
I also decided to avail myself of all the services the Federal government has to offer. I filed flight plans with the FAA, which is not required for VFR flights, but is a great safety measure. What a VFR flight plan amounts to is telling the FAA when to expect your arrival at your destination, and if you don't call them within 30 minutes of that expected time, they call search and rescue to come find you. Should something ever go wrong, it can dramatically improve the chances that you get necessary help in a timely fashion.
I also used VFR flight following all the way up and back. As with flight plans, VFR pilots do not need to talk to air traffic control, except in the controlled airspace around busy airports (like the tower at KOLM). However, upon request, ATC will provide "advisories" to VFR pilots--basically, providing another set of eyes to watch for traffic. I believe this is one of the easiest and most effective ways a pilot can improve safety, and I plan to use it on every single cross country flight.
The flight itself was really fun. The sights in the Puget Sound area--Olympia, Tacoma, Seattle, Bremerton, Sequim, and Port Angeles--are stunning on a clear night. The air was generally smooth, and I was as relaxed at the controls as I've been yet. We actually shut down the engine in Port Angeles and got out to stretch our legs. There was no one else at KCLM and it was eerily quiet.
One of the cooler things I experienced was using pilot-controlled lighting. At non-towered airports (or at airports like KOLM after the tower closes at 8 pm) the lights are generally off, or at very low intensity, to save electricity. Pilots can turn on and dim the lights by keying the push-to-talk button on the radio a specified number of times. As we approached KOLM last night, all we could see was the beacon, but like magic after I clicked seven times, the whole field lit up like a Christmas tree. I believe, in terms of raw wattage output, that this was the most powerful thing I've ever done :).
The flight finished up with a practice instrument approach--something Joel and I have made fairly standard coming into Olympia from the north. He tells me what the pretend ceiling is (last night it was 600 feet) and I'm not allowed to look out the windshield until we hit that altitude. I did pretty well, and logged a bit of my required time under simulated instrument conditions.
We shut down at Glacier just after 11 pm. First solo cross-country flight today--to Kelso, Washington, on the Columbia River near Portland.
I had planned out a flight from KOLM to Port Angeles (KCLM), about 65 direct-line miles north northwest of Olympia. At night, there is an emphasis on radio navigation rather than visual waypoints, since even decent-sized towns are often hard to see from aloft. I used two VOR beacons (one at Olympia and one at Paine Field in Everett) in the flight plan, relying on both the directional and distance information they provide to navigate in the dark. As it turned out, there were more than a few visible waypoints along the way (airports, the Bangor navy yard north of Bremerton, and the towns of Port Townsend and Sequim), but I really enjoyed the planning and execution of a flight based largely on radio navigation. When I go for my instrument rating eventually, this will be an important skill and I don't mind getting familiar with it now.
I also decided to avail myself of all the services the Federal government has to offer. I filed flight plans with the FAA, which is not required for VFR flights, but is a great safety measure. What a VFR flight plan amounts to is telling the FAA when to expect your arrival at your destination, and if you don't call them within 30 minutes of that expected time, they call search and rescue to come find you. Should something ever go wrong, it can dramatically improve the chances that you get necessary help in a timely fashion.
I also used VFR flight following all the way up and back. As with flight plans, VFR pilots do not need to talk to air traffic control, except in the controlled airspace around busy airports (like the tower at KOLM). However, upon request, ATC will provide "advisories" to VFR pilots--basically, providing another set of eyes to watch for traffic. I believe this is one of the easiest and most effective ways a pilot can improve safety, and I plan to use it on every single cross country flight.
The flight itself was really fun. The sights in the Puget Sound area--Olympia, Tacoma, Seattle, Bremerton, Sequim, and Port Angeles--are stunning on a clear night. The air was generally smooth, and I was as relaxed at the controls as I've been yet. We actually shut down the engine in Port Angeles and got out to stretch our legs. There was no one else at KCLM and it was eerily quiet.
One of the cooler things I experienced was using pilot-controlled lighting. At non-towered airports (or at airports like KOLM after the tower closes at 8 pm) the lights are generally off, or at very low intensity, to save electricity. Pilots can turn on and dim the lights by keying the push-to-talk button on the radio a specified number of times. As we approached KOLM last night, all we could see was the beacon, but like magic after I clicked seven times, the whole field lit up like a Christmas tree. I believe, in terms of raw wattage output, that this was the most powerful thing I've ever done :).
The flight finished up with a practice instrument approach--something Joel and I have made fairly standard coming into Olympia from the north. He tells me what the pretend ceiling is (last night it was 600 feet) and I'm not allowed to look out the windshield until we hit that altitude. I did pretty well, and logged a bit of my required time under simulated instrument conditions.
We shut down at Glacier just after 11 pm. First solo cross-country flight today--to Kelso, Washington, on the Columbia River near Portland.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Catch up
Catching up on a few recent activities...it's been a little busy lately and so I haven't posted as often as I should.
Last Monday I had my greatest experience so far in the aircraft. TP had been booked up all day, but a well-timed call to Glacier discovered a cancellation in the late afternoon. My new logbook endorsements in-hand, I planned a solo flight down to Chehalis. Took off to the north from Olympia, two left turns, and I basically followed I-5 south to KCLS. I leveled off at 2500, got the ship trimmed nicely, and had five minutes of enjoying the awesome scenery of a beautiful spring afternoon in the Northwest.
About 8 miles out from KCLS, I announced position and intentions on the common traffic advisory frequency (CTAF), as there is no tower at Chehalis. Just after I unkeyed the mike, another aircraft checked in as well, and from his report it sounded like he was 3 miles to my west, and converging. Uh-oh. We remained in constant communication, and were scanning for each other constantly, but he never saw me, and I didn't find him until he was about a mile ahead of me. I reported him in sight and said that I'd follow him to the airport. I did one touch-and-go landing and headed back to Olympia. Three circuits of the pattern at Olympia, and I parked. All the landings were good and I was happy with the flight.
On Tuesday I had a lesson with Joel to focus on crosswind landings. The winds were actually right down runway 26 at Olympia, so we had to go to Chehalis to find favorable conditions. I announced a straight-in approach to runway 16, and the winds were from the west at about 10 knots: almost a direct crosswind.
I found the crosswind landing to be quite challenging. There are actually two acceptable techniques; Joel teaches the one in which the pilot banks into the wind and uses the rudder to remain aligned with the centerline of the runway. The idea is to maintain this attitude (which feels a bit strange) all the way to touchdown, where the landing is on the upwind wheel with the ailerons completely deflected into the wind. In case you're thinking it's difficult to touch down on one (of three) wheels and maintain control on the runway...it is. I tried three landings and watched Joel demonstrate one, and it's fair to say this maneuver will require more work. I'm pretty confident I could land the plane safely in such a crosswind, but not with as much control as I really need.
Last night, Joel and I were scheduled to complete some of the 3 hours of night cross-country flight that I require for my license, but the weather didn't cooperate. I was disappointed, as I had a nice flight planned up to Port Angeles, about 80 miles northwest of Olympia. Hopefully we'll be able to do it next weekend.
Last Monday I had my greatest experience so far in the aircraft. TP had been booked up all day, but a well-timed call to Glacier discovered a cancellation in the late afternoon. My new logbook endorsements in-hand, I planned a solo flight down to Chehalis. Took off to the north from Olympia, two left turns, and I basically followed I-5 south to KCLS. I leveled off at 2500, got the ship trimmed nicely, and had five minutes of enjoying the awesome scenery of a beautiful spring afternoon in the Northwest.
About 8 miles out from KCLS, I announced position and intentions on the common traffic advisory frequency (CTAF), as there is no tower at Chehalis. Just after I unkeyed the mike, another aircraft checked in as well, and from his report it sounded like he was 3 miles to my west, and converging. Uh-oh. We remained in constant communication, and were scanning for each other constantly, but he never saw me, and I didn't find him until he was about a mile ahead of me. I reported him in sight and said that I'd follow him to the airport. I did one touch-and-go landing and headed back to Olympia. Three circuits of the pattern at Olympia, and I parked. All the landings were good and I was happy with the flight.
On Tuesday I had a lesson with Joel to focus on crosswind landings. The winds were actually right down runway 26 at Olympia, so we had to go to Chehalis to find favorable conditions. I announced a straight-in approach to runway 16, and the winds were from the west at about 10 knots: almost a direct crosswind.
I found the crosswind landing to be quite challenging. There are actually two acceptable techniques; Joel teaches the one in which the pilot banks into the wind and uses the rudder to remain aligned with the centerline of the runway. The idea is to maintain this attitude (which feels a bit strange) all the way to touchdown, where the landing is on the upwind wheel with the ailerons completely deflected into the wind. In case you're thinking it's difficult to touch down on one (of three) wheels and maintain control on the runway...it is. I tried three landings and watched Joel demonstrate one, and it's fair to say this maneuver will require more work. I'm pretty confident I could land the plane safely in such a crosswind, but not with as much control as I really need.
Last night, Joel and I were scheduled to complete some of the 3 hours of night cross-country flight that I require for my license, but the weather didn't cooperate. I was disappointed, as I had a nice flight planned up to Port Angeles, about 80 miles northwest of Olympia. Hopefully we'll be able to do it next weekend.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Steep Turns may be my nemesis
Last night Joel and I had a lesson in beautiful weather. The aircraft thermometer in TP read 85 degrees when we departed. That's pretty warm for April in Olympia. High pressure, calm winds, sky clear--just beautiful.
Joel is more or less having me set my own goals for lessons now, which is terrific. Just another confirmation that his style and my preferences align very well. I really had two objectives last night: get signed off for landings at two more airports within 25 miles (Chehalis, KCLS, a non-towered airport about 20 miles south of Olympia, and Tacoma Narrows, KTIW, a towered airport about 20 miles northeast), and, practice maneuvers.
We took off and headed south for Chehalis. Chehalis is the airport where I took my radio back in January and sat in the airport office parking lot for 30 minutes or so, and during that time decided to become a private pilot. So it's a special place for me, and landing there was a bigger moment than the modesty of the field would imply.
I cut the first approach too short and had to go around, but my next two circuits were good. We departed to the north, flew over the Olympia airspace, and contacted the Tacoma tower about seven miles out. I completely botched the clearance request with KTIW, which gave Joel a little chuckle and probably the controller too. I am finding it difficult to estimate distances from the air, and so I usually figure that out before I call up, but I forgot to do so this time. So it went something like this:
Me: "Tacoma tower, Cessna 40TP about...uh...um..."
Joel: (visual hand signals of the number nine, in an animated fashion)
Me: "Sorry, tower, 40TP is um, about nine miles out...uh...to the southwest...inbound for..." [unkey mike]
Me: "For touch-and-goes"
KTIW Tower: "Cessna 40TP, Tacoma tower, enter a right downwind for runway 17 and report the downwind"
Me: "Right downwind 17, we'll call the downwind, 0TP"
Me (off frequency, on intercom to Joel): "That was really, really lame"
Joel: "Yeah, but I've heard much worse from students"
After that things got better, and I did three nice landings.
We departed to the southwest and practiced maneuvers. The first was steep turns, in which the pilot maintains a bank angle of 45 degrees through a full circle, while keeping altitude within 100 feet and airspeed within 10 knots. 45 degrees is a substantial bank, and the back pressure on the yoke is enough to pull about 1.5 Gs. I wouldn't say my performance was horrible for a beginner, but it was well below standards, so this is something I'll need to work on. We moved on to turns about a point, which is a much more "gentle" turn around a farmhouse, water tower, or other feature. I did quite well at that.
The good news is, I'm signed off to operate at four airports now, and to practice maneuvers on my own. Hopefully we'll have more of this nice weather in between business trips the next few weeks, and I'll continue making progress. I have 15 hours of the 40 minimum required. Plenty of time left to practice!
Joel is more or less having me set my own goals for lessons now, which is terrific. Just another confirmation that his style and my preferences align very well. I really had two objectives last night: get signed off for landings at two more airports within 25 miles (Chehalis, KCLS, a non-towered airport about 20 miles south of Olympia, and Tacoma Narrows, KTIW, a towered airport about 20 miles northeast), and, practice maneuvers.
We took off and headed south for Chehalis. Chehalis is the airport where I took my radio back in January and sat in the airport office parking lot for 30 minutes or so, and during that time decided to become a private pilot. So it's a special place for me, and landing there was a bigger moment than the modesty of the field would imply.
I cut the first approach too short and had to go around, but my next two circuits were good. We departed to the north, flew over the Olympia airspace, and contacted the Tacoma tower about seven miles out. I completely botched the clearance request with KTIW, which gave Joel a little chuckle and probably the controller too. I am finding it difficult to estimate distances from the air, and so I usually figure that out before I call up, but I forgot to do so this time. So it went something like this:
Me: "Tacoma tower, Cessna 40TP about...uh...um..."
Joel: (visual hand signals of the number nine, in an animated fashion)
Me: "Sorry, tower, 40TP is um, about nine miles out...uh...to the southwest...inbound for..." [unkey mike]
Me: "For touch-and-goes"
KTIW Tower: "Cessna 40TP, Tacoma tower, enter a right downwind for runway 17 and report the downwind"
Me: "Right downwind 17, we'll call the downwind, 0TP"
Me (off frequency, on intercom to Joel): "That was really, really lame"
Joel: "Yeah, but I've heard much worse from students"
After that things got better, and I did three nice landings.
We departed to the southwest and practiced maneuvers. The first was steep turns, in which the pilot maintains a bank angle of 45 degrees through a full circle, while keeping altitude within 100 feet and airspeed within 10 knots. 45 degrees is a substantial bank, and the back pressure on the yoke is enough to pull about 1.5 Gs. I wouldn't say my performance was horrible for a beginner, but it was well below standards, so this is something I'll need to work on. We moved on to turns about a point, which is a much more "gentle" turn around a farmhouse, water tower, or other feature. I did quite well at that.
The good news is, I'm signed off to operate at four airports now, and to practice maneuvers on my own. Hopefully we'll have more of this nice weather in between business trips the next few weeks, and I'll continue making progress. I have 15 hours of the 40 minimum required. Plenty of time left to practice!
Limits
Over the weekend, I did my first complete solo flight, by which I mean I went to the airport, checked out the plane, flew, and parked, all without seeing Joel at all.
It was a beautiful day ceiling- and visibility-wise, and quite warm...but it was also windy. Joel has set a 10-knot limit on winds for me, and I stayed within that, but just barely. The wind was also gusting quite a bit, which made things rather uncomfortable. So much so that I completed two pattern circuits and stopped.
I definitely bumped up against my limits of comfort, if not ability. I subsequently spoke to Joel about it, and he said I was still well within my abilities to land safely, but that the feelings of discomfort and uncertainty are normal. That made me feel better. I think it will be better to push more gradually on my experience envelope, rather than all in one day!
As a bonus, my mom is in town and was able to observe the flight (from the ground of course). She went through the pre-flight with me; my intent was to increase her comfort with the safety of the aircraft and the pre-flight inspection, but I'm not sure that succeeded. She didn't seem too nervous for me. I was proud to be able to show her what I've learned. Even at 38, it's still fun to be able to say, "Look, Mom, at what I can do!"
It was a beautiful day ceiling- and visibility-wise, and quite warm...but it was also windy. Joel has set a 10-knot limit on winds for me, and I stayed within that, but just barely. The wind was also gusting quite a bit, which made things rather uncomfortable. So much so that I completed two pattern circuits and stopped.
I definitely bumped up against my limits of comfort, if not ability. I subsequently spoke to Joel about it, and he said I was still well within my abilities to land safely, but that the feelings of discomfort and uncertainty are normal. That made me feel better. I think it will be better to push more gradually on my experience envelope, rather than all in one day!
As a bonus, my mom is in town and was able to observe the flight (from the ground of course). She went through the pre-flight with me; my intent was to increase her comfort with the safety of the aircraft and the pre-flight inspection, but I'm not sure that succeeded. She didn't seem too nervous for me. I was proud to be able to show her what I've learned. Even at 38, it's still fun to be able to say, "Look, Mom, at what I can do!"
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Recording the Tower
A couple of OlympiaPilot readers have asked how I recorded the tower frequency during my solo flight.
With apologies to my friend (and avid OlympiaPilot tracker) Dan, who's a real radio expert...
Last year on my birthday I received an icom R5 receiver, pretty much for the sole purpose of monitoring air traffic control at home and when I travel. It has proven to be just about the best darned toy imaginable. For me anyway.
I just plug an ordinary 1/8" stereo cable into the headphone jack of the radio, and the other end into the mic input on my computer. I use Audacity to record the sound and convert the output to mp3. Tune the radio to 124.4, press "record", and that's it!
The Radio Shack discone antenna I installed last year in the attic really helps get crystal clear reception from the tower, which is about 3 miles away. I can pick up pretty much all the traffic between Seattle and Portland. In addition to Olympia tower (after all, I have to keep up with what TP is up to when I'm not there!), I listen to the south sound unicom frequency (used by the non-towered airports) and Seattle approach quite a bit. Makes for good background noise while working.
With apologies to my friend (and avid OlympiaPilot tracker) Dan, who's a real radio expert...
Last year on my birthday I received an icom R5 receiver, pretty much for the sole purpose of monitoring air traffic control at home and when I travel. It has proven to be just about the best darned toy imaginable. For me anyway.
I just plug an ordinary 1/8" stereo cable into the headphone jack of the radio, and the other end into the mic input on my computer. I use Audacity to record the sound and convert the output to mp3. Tune the radio to 124.4, press "record", and that's it!
The Radio Shack discone antenna I installed last year in the attic really helps get crystal clear reception from the tower, which is about 3 miles away. I can pick up pretty much all the traffic between Seattle and Portland. In addition to Olympia tower (after all, I have to keep up with what TP is up to when I'm not there!), I listen to the south sound unicom frequency (used by the non-towered airports) and Seattle approach quite a bit. Makes for good background noise while working.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Solo!
Today 40TP and I went out for the first time without a chaperon. I flew solo for the first time!
After a couple of pattern circuits with Joel just to make sure Thursday's landing successes weren't accidental, he asked me to take him back to the FBO and do three more on my own. He wrote the necessary endorsements in my logbook to make it legal, and I taxied back out, alone. It was a strange feeling, but I was confident and happy that my training has carried me this far.
Joel told me that TP would have an extra bit of power without him, and he was right. She reached 55 knots and lept off the runway with a little extra spring, and I reached the 1000' pattern altitude noticeably faster. Other than that, it was pretty much the same routine I've gotten used to.
Though it wasn't without its challenges. The winds were shifting quite a bit at Olympia today. When Joel and I were up, the winds were basically out of the south, meaning we were using runway 17. They were calm when I taxied out solo, but by the time I had turned around into the downwind, they had shifted almost 180 degrees. Listening to the radio, I heard the tower controller start to "spin the boat" and direct traffic to 35, though he cleared me to land on 17 since I was already well into the pattern. The wind was 10 knots on my tail. That was not something I felt ready to handle yet, so I asked to fly around to 35, which he approved--not only was it more comfortable for me, but it helped him get things shifted to the new flow.
My first landing was not my best, but was acceptable. The second and third were pretty good. As I was rolling out to pick up Joel at Glacier for our cross-country trip to Paine Field (north of Seattle), I thanked the controller for being part of my first solo flight. He congratulated me as I turned off the runway. All in all, a great experience.
I'll blog later about the cross-country flight, which was terrific.
Here is a link to a recording of the Olympia tower frequency during my solo (I've stripped out a few long periods of silence, so the timeline is a bit compressed...the mp3 is 12 minutes, but the elapsed time was just over 20.) Listen for "Cessna 40TP" or just "0TP". The wikipedia article on traffic patterns is pretty good if you need some orientation to the terminology.
At some flight schools, there is a tradition of "ripping the tailfeathers" of the student by cutting major chunks out of his or her shirt. Glacier doesn't do that, which is just fine with me...Joel and I had a picture taken instead.
Joel has authorized me to solo in the pattern at Olympia, the pattern at Shelton, and to fly in between. So in upcoming posts expect to hear about more solo flights, as well as dual lessons (next one is Tuesday).
After a couple of pattern circuits with Joel just to make sure Thursday's landing successes weren't accidental, he asked me to take him back to the FBO and do three more on my own. He wrote the necessary endorsements in my logbook to make it legal, and I taxied back out, alone. It was a strange feeling, but I was confident and happy that my training has carried me this far.
Joel told me that TP would have an extra bit of power without him, and he was right. She reached 55 knots and lept off the runway with a little extra spring, and I reached the 1000' pattern altitude noticeably faster. Other than that, it was pretty much the same routine I've gotten used to.
Though it wasn't without its challenges. The winds were shifting quite a bit at Olympia today. When Joel and I were up, the winds were basically out of the south, meaning we were using runway 17. They were calm when I taxied out solo, but by the time I had turned around into the downwind, they had shifted almost 180 degrees. Listening to the radio, I heard the tower controller start to "spin the boat" and direct traffic to 35, though he cleared me to land on 17 since I was already well into the pattern. The wind was 10 knots on my tail. That was not something I felt ready to handle yet, so I asked to fly around to 35, which he approved--not only was it more comfortable for me, but it helped him get things shifted to the new flow.
My first landing was not my best, but was acceptable. The second and third were pretty good. As I was rolling out to pick up Joel at Glacier for our cross-country trip to Paine Field (north of Seattle), I thanked the controller for being part of my first solo flight. He congratulated me as I turned off the runway. All in all, a great experience.
I'll blog later about the cross-country flight, which was terrific.
Here is a link to a recording of the Olympia tower frequency during my solo (I've stripped out a few long periods of silence, so the timeline is a bit compressed...the mp3 is 12 minutes, but the elapsed time was just over 20.) Listen for "Cessna 40TP" or just "0TP". The wikipedia article on traffic patterns is pretty good if you need some orientation to the terminology.
At some flight schools, there is a tradition of "ripping the tailfeathers" of the student by cutting major chunks out of his or her shirt. Glacier doesn't do that, which is just fine with me...Joel and I had a picture taken instead.
Joel has authorized me to solo in the pattern at Olympia, the pattern at Shelton, and to fly in between. So in upcoming posts expect to hear about more solo flights, as well as dual lessons (next one is Tuesday).
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Click
Two things clicked tonight, but one was much easier than the other.
First, for the difficult thing. I am really starting to figure out a lot of this flying business, but one thing that still has me mystified is how to master the seatbelt and shoulder harness in the left seat of 40TP. Each time I get in the aircraft that bugger is twisted, hard to adjust, and just plain snarfy. Eventually I get it, of course (since per FAR 91.107, I can't take off without it, not that I would anyway). But it is a mighty struggle. I'm open to considering that it is mostly user error; the right seat harness is apparently identical, and Joel is usually buckled in and ready to go within 10 seconds. Then he just laughs as I fight it out with my side. Hopefully at some point the harness and I will just agree to disagree and come to some sort of compromise.
But now on to the good stuff. Tonight Joel didn't have to touch the controls. Once. We did seven takeoffs, seven landings, a power-off stall and a power-on stall, and I did it all.
We took off from Olympia, straight out to the north, and I used the navigation radio (VOR) to take us up to Sanderson Field in Shelton, about 20 miles northwest. It's a non-towered airport that's not too busy, and Joel wanted to get me a change of scenery plus some radio practice on an advisory frequency (that is, where pilots communicate directly without a tower.) My first two landings at Shelton were quite good, with a little "crabbing" to the left that has to be corrected with right rudder on the ground to regain the centerline. We did two more at Shelton, and they were really good...my best yet. On the go, after the second one, Joel asked me to land again, drop him off, and do the rest on my own. Gulp. Solo time.
However, I really didn't feel quite ready. I explained that I wanted another round of stall practice, since that's the skill I would absolutely need if I got in trouble in the pattern. Joel commented (positively) on my decision-making and we went to practice stalls. I did a decent job at the maneuvers--it really takes some effort to stall Tango Papa when she's light. Gave me confidence.
I flew us back to Olympia, and waited a bit too long on the descent, so that gave us a good excuse to practice slips. This is where the pilot intentionally puts the plane in uncoordinated flight, with the sole purpose of exposing as much fuselage as possible to the oncoming wind, which creates drag and slows the aircraft while it descends. It's a brilliant trick and I enjoy doing it. Magically we arrived in the pattern at the right altitude and speed, set up for a good approach.
I nailed three more landings, each one a little better. On most of tonight's landings there was barely a squeak of tires, none of the nosewheel shimmying of past lessons...it was all good. We parked, Joel did another review of my pre-solo written exam, and signed the appropriate endorsements in my logbook. We decided he'd go up with me again at my next lesson for a couple of pattern circuits, then he'd sign me off for solo. I'll be authorized to fly solo in the pattern at Olympia, at Shelton, and in between.
After the soloing formalities, we plan to do a cross-country flight up to Paine Field, in Everett, north of Seattle. I'm supposed to plan the flight before the lesson.
Next lesson is Sunday, so I should have more to report then.
First, for the difficult thing. I am really starting to figure out a lot of this flying business, but one thing that still has me mystified is how to master the seatbelt and shoulder harness in the left seat of 40TP. Each time I get in the aircraft that bugger is twisted, hard to adjust, and just plain snarfy. Eventually I get it, of course (since per FAR 91.107, I can't take off without it, not that I would anyway). But it is a mighty struggle. I'm open to considering that it is mostly user error; the right seat harness is apparently identical, and Joel is usually buckled in and ready to go within 10 seconds. Then he just laughs as I fight it out with my side. Hopefully at some point the harness and I will just agree to disagree and come to some sort of compromise.
But now on to the good stuff. Tonight Joel didn't have to touch the controls. Once. We did seven takeoffs, seven landings, a power-off stall and a power-on stall, and I did it all.
We took off from Olympia, straight out to the north, and I used the navigation radio (VOR) to take us up to Sanderson Field in Shelton, about 20 miles northwest. It's a non-towered airport that's not too busy, and Joel wanted to get me a change of scenery plus some radio practice on an advisory frequency (that is, where pilots communicate directly without a tower.) My first two landings at Shelton were quite good, with a little "crabbing" to the left that has to be corrected with right rudder on the ground to regain the centerline. We did two more at Shelton, and they were really good...my best yet. On the go, after the second one, Joel asked me to land again, drop him off, and do the rest on my own. Gulp. Solo time.
However, I really didn't feel quite ready. I explained that I wanted another round of stall practice, since that's the skill I would absolutely need if I got in trouble in the pattern. Joel commented (positively) on my decision-making and we went to practice stalls. I did a decent job at the maneuvers--it really takes some effort to stall Tango Papa when she's light. Gave me confidence.
I flew us back to Olympia, and waited a bit too long on the descent, so that gave us a good excuse to practice slips. This is where the pilot intentionally puts the plane in uncoordinated flight, with the sole purpose of exposing as much fuselage as possible to the oncoming wind, which creates drag and slows the aircraft while it descends. It's a brilliant trick and I enjoy doing it. Magically we arrived in the pattern at the right altitude and speed, set up for a good approach.
I nailed three more landings, each one a little better. On most of tonight's landings there was barely a squeak of tires, none of the nosewheel shimmying of past lessons...it was all good. We parked, Joel did another review of my pre-solo written exam, and signed the appropriate endorsements in my logbook. We decided he'd go up with me again at my next lesson for a couple of pattern circuits, then he'd sign me off for solo. I'll be authorized to fly solo in the pattern at Olympia, at Shelton, and in between.
After the soloing formalities, we plan to do a cross-country flight up to Paine Field, in Everett, north of Seattle. I'm supposed to plan the flight before the lesson.
Next lesson is Sunday, so I should have more to report then.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Pretty Darn Good
Woke up Saturday morning to dense fog in the Olympia area...and the freezing kind too, which doesn't always burn off as easily. I tuned the Olympia ATIS on my radio at home, and confirmed: less than 1/4 mile visibility, ceilings 100. About as far away from VFR as you can get. I grumped about it a bit, but decided to head out on my bicycle for a first-hand look. Confirmed again: pea soup.
Called Joel around 10:30, half hour before my lesson. He said he was optimistic, and there was always ground school anyway. So I drove out to the airport.
Skies weren't cooperating yet, so Joel had me go through my pre-solo written exam (required by the FAA). Of the 30-40 questions, I had trouble only with one or two, simply because I hadn't memorized something yet. Another hour or so of study and I'll be able to finish that up. Joel told me to complete it at home before my next lesson (it's open book).
During the exam practice, we kept one eye each on the "idiot light"...what seasoned pilots call the rotating beacon at the airport when it's on during the day. (If it's on during the day, the field is IFR; when it becomes VFR, the tower controllers turn it off.) Joel remained confident that the ceiling would lift, so he had me go pre-flight N40TP (which has become my standard aircraft now).
Just as the fueler finished putting gas in the tanks, the idiot light went off: VFR! Joel smiled behind his shades and said, "let's go fly!" Never one to argue (and knowing we'd check the ATIS just to be sure), I hopped in. I've been practicing passenger briefings with Joel, knowing the FAA examiner will expect me to do it on my checkride. That and the startup checklists went without much discussion--these are now becoming routine.
We did six pattern circuits in under an hour. On the first one, I did by far my best landing yet: right on the centerline, and barely a squeak from the tires. Joel looked over and said, "well, that was pretty darn good. Show me four more of those and next week you'll do it solo." Well, that must've been a bit of a jinx. I did three more that were barely acceptable, one that was awful, and a practiced short approach (simulated engine failure) that was, well, a failure. Ended in a go-around.
I have everything pretty much nailed now except the final flare. I'm still ballooning and landing too hard. But I did do it well once, so I know I can. Will just take practice.
On our last circuit we were behind an Ercoupe. Pretty aircraft. But slow. Joel warned me that we'd be quite a bit faster, and I backed off the airspeed a little, but not enough. On downwind the coupe started appearing in the windscreen about as fast as someone driving 45 in the left lane of the freeway. So I really backed off, and fortunately he began his base turn shortly thereafter. I extended our downwind by about a mile to give him space. The last landing was probably second in terms of quality to the first, though we got quite a bit of nosewheel shimmy as we slowed. Between dealing with that and comprehending my taxi instructions from the tower, I got a bit flustered. Just still not 100% comfortable, and I believe soloing is still several hours away.
Next lesson is Thursday (business trip to LA Mon-Tues), with study of my last couple of ground school lessons in the meantime.
Called Joel around 10:30, half hour before my lesson. He said he was optimistic, and there was always ground school anyway. So I drove out to the airport.
Skies weren't cooperating yet, so Joel had me go through my pre-solo written exam (required by the FAA). Of the 30-40 questions, I had trouble only with one or two, simply because I hadn't memorized something yet. Another hour or so of study and I'll be able to finish that up. Joel told me to complete it at home before my next lesson (it's open book).
During the exam practice, we kept one eye each on the "idiot light"...what seasoned pilots call the rotating beacon at the airport when it's on during the day. (If it's on during the day, the field is IFR; when it becomes VFR, the tower controllers turn it off.) Joel remained confident that the ceiling would lift, so he had me go pre-flight N40TP (which has become my standard aircraft now).
Just as the fueler finished putting gas in the tanks, the idiot light went off: VFR! Joel smiled behind his shades and said, "let's go fly!" Never one to argue (and knowing we'd check the ATIS just to be sure), I hopped in. I've been practicing passenger briefings with Joel, knowing the FAA examiner will expect me to do it on my checkride. That and the startup checklists went without much discussion--these are now becoming routine.
We did six pattern circuits in under an hour. On the first one, I did by far my best landing yet: right on the centerline, and barely a squeak from the tires. Joel looked over and said, "well, that was pretty darn good. Show me four more of those and next week you'll do it solo." Well, that must've been a bit of a jinx. I did three more that were barely acceptable, one that was awful, and a practiced short approach (simulated engine failure) that was, well, a failure. Ended in a go-around.
I have everything pretty much nailed now except the final flare. I'm still ballooning and landing too hard. But I did do it well once, so I know I can. Will just take practice.
On our last circuit we were behind an Ercoupe. Pretty aircraft. But slow. Joel warned me that we'd be quite a bit faster, and I backed off the airspeed a little, but not enough. On downwind the coupe started appearing in the windscreen about as fast as someone driving 45 in the left lane of the freeway. So I really backed off, and fortunately he began his base turn shortly thereafter. I extended our downwind by about a mile to give him space. The last landing was probably second in terms of quality to the first, though we got quite a bit of nosewheel shimmy as we slowed. Between dealing with that and comprehending my taxi instructions from the tower, I got a bit flustered. Just still not 100% comfortable, and I believe soloing is still several hours away.
Next lesson is Thursday (business trip to LA Mon-Tues), with study of my last couple of ground school lessons in the meantime.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Progress
Three lessons since my last post. I'm back with Joel now, and I really feel like (to stretch the analogy) I've completed my climb and am in cruise flight. I know what to expect, I know what's ahead of me, and the pace is nice and steady. A good feeling.
Last Saturday the weather was marginal. Joel was willing to go up and do pattern work, but he let me make the decision. The winds were high (but right down the runway)...and they were gusting, which makes for an unpleasant ride and an extra degree of difficulty. In the end I chose not to go. This gave us a chance to talk about what the FAA creatively calls "Aeronautical Decision Making". It's really about judgment. Joel said I made a good decision. And we got to finish up aerodynamics in ground school.
Monday was a horrible weather day, and frankly I felt a little frustrated with the gaps between flights. I feel like skills slip a bit. Coupled with the fact that I hadn't read enough ahead, the inability to fly led to a quite unproductive session. The topic, ironically, was weather--theory, hazards, basic forecasting, and so on. I do find it interesting, but the going is a bit slower. Just a completely new area of knowledge for me, for which I have little frame of reference.
So why do I title this "progress"? Because tonight's lesson really was a major step forward in the aircraft. I accomplished three landings without Joel's help (plus two that were not as good), and I'm really getting the hang of the traffic pattern. For the first time, it just really felt comfortable. We also did a little slow flight--I don't take fright anymore at the squawk of the stall horn. It is definitely seeming more natural and I feel like I know what I'm doing. After the flight we also knocked off the weather stuff that I couldn't get on Monday when I wasn't prepared.
Joel says maybe another few hours until I solo. Gotta work on those flares and landings...the two that didn't go so well involved ballooning down the runway, and one landing that was a bit more harsh than we like. But things are moving right along!
Last Saturday the weather was marginal. Joel was willing to go up and do pattern work, but he let me make the decision. The winds were high (but right down the runway)...and they were gusting, which makes for an unpleasant ride and an extra degree of difficulty. In the end I chose not to go. This gave us a chance to talk about what the FAA creatively calls "Aeronautical Decision Making". It's really about judgment. Joel said I made a good decision. And we got to finish up aerodynamics in ground school.
Monday was a horrible weather day, and frankly I felt a little frustrated with the gaps between flights. I feel like skills slip a bit. Coupled with the fact that I hadn't read enough ahead, the inability to fly led to a quite unproductive session. The topic, ironically, was weather--theory, hazards, basic forecasting, and so on. I do find it interesting, but the going is a bit slower. Just a completely new area of knowledge for me, for which I have little frame of reference.
So why do I title this "progress"? Because tonight's lesson really was a major step forward in the aircraft. I accomplished three landings without Joel's help (plus two that were not as good), and I'm really getting the hang of the traffic pattern. For the first time, it just really felt comfortable. We also did a little slow flight--I don't take fright anymore at the squawk of the stall horn. It is definitely seeming more natural and I feel like I know what I'm doing. After the flight we also knocked off the weather stuff that I couldn't get on Monday when I wasn't prepared.
Joel says maybe another few hours until I solo. Gotta work on those flares and landings...the two that didn't go so well involved ballooning down the runway, and one landing that was a bit more harsh than we like. But things are moving right along!
Friday, March 13, 2009
FAR Away
I walked away from last Sunday's lesson with Russell with a nice list of the sections of the Federal Aviation Regulations that I need to study for the written and practical tests. So this has become my bedtime reading. Fairly dry, but I have enough context now from flight experience that it's relevant and interesting too.
Different Perspective
Three lessons this past week.
Sunday brought wet snow and rain to the Olympia area, and with it low ceilings and poor visibility. So that meant ground school with Russell. The session was great--we covered airport operations, focusing on ops at Olympia. My background is fairly strong here, so it was a nice discussion that probed some of the more esoteric rules and regulations.
Wednesday and Thursday involved flight time with Steve, the third Glacier instructor. We focused on maneuvers (slow flight, stalls, and steep turns), which was fun and educational, but more than that I learned that there are as many different perspectives on flight instruction as there are instructors.
There's not enough space in a blog post to get into the technical details of the differences between Steve and Joel, and it would be boring anyway. It's enough to say that there is no one way to learn to fly, and I'm glad to have had a couple of lessons with Steve to learn some different techniques. I'll be back with Joel starting tomorrow, and I plan to talk about which of Steve's recommendations (hopefully, those I liked) could be carried forward through the rest of my training. I particularly liked Steve's final approach technique, which minimizes the number of things you have to remember and do. At this point, simplicity has a lot of benefit!
In any case, I'm pretty comfortable now with stalling the airplane myself and recovering...more so with power off than power on. I also did a passable job on my first steep turn execution (this is a 45 degree bank for 360 degrees in one direction, then same in the other direction, marking a figure eight in the sky.)
What I wasn't terribly comfortable with was Steve's demonstration of some more severe stall situations. In one maneuver we pulled 2.5-3 Gs in what's called an accelerated maneuver stall. I found this pretty disorienting, and it was actually the first time in 7 hours of flight so far that I experienced motion sickness. But it was a good experience that showed me lots of things not to do.
Rain this weekend, which means ground school only.
Sunday brought wet snow and rain to the Olympia area, and with it low ceilings and poor visibility. So that meant ground school with Russell. The session was great--we covered airport operations, focusing on ops at Olympia. My background is fairly strong here, so it was a nice discussion that probed some of the more esoteric rules and regulations.
Wednesday and Thursday involved flight time with Steve, the third Glacier instructor. We focused on maneuvers (slow flight, stalls, and steep turns), which was fun and educational, but more than that I learned that there are as many different perspectives on flight instruction as there are instructors.
There's not enough space in a blog post to get into the technical details of the differences between Steve and Joel, and it would be boring anyway. It's enough to say that there is no one way to learn to fly, and I'm glad to have had a couple of lessons with Steve to learn some different techniques. I'll be back with Joel starting tomorrow, and I plan to talk about which of Steve's recommendations (hopefully, those I liked) could be carried forward through the rest of my training. I particularly liked Steve's final approach technique, which minimizes the number of things you have to remember and do. At this point, simplicity has a lot of benefit!
In any case, I'm pretty comfortable now with stalling the airplane myself and recovering...more so with power off than power on. I also did a passable job on my first steep turn execution (this is a 45 degree bank for 360 degrees in one direction, then same in the other direction, marking a figure eight in the sky.)
What I wasn't terribly comfortable with was Steve's demonstration of some more severe stall situations. In one maneuver we pulled 2.5-3 Gs in what's called an accelerated maneuver stall. I found this pretty disorienting, and it was actually the first time in 7 hours of flight so far that I experienced motion sickness. But it was a good experience that showed me lots of things not to do.
Rain this weekend, which means ground school only.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Stick and Rudder
I've been looking for a good conceptual description of aerodynamics and airplane systems. The presentation in my Jeppesen textbook doesn't quite go deep enough, and it's written like, well, a textbook.
So I stumbled upon Stick and Rudder, a book written in 1944 but still one of the more popular treatments of basic aerodynamic forces and how a properly flown airplane exploits these forces in flight. The author's style is a bit like myth-busting...explaining thoroughly how the lay person's (which is to say the student pilot's) conception of things is often wrong. He is definitely reinforcing what Joel has been teaching me: the elevator (operated by moving the control wheel forward and back) is not the "up/down" control, but the airspeed (angle of attack) control, and the throttle is not the "fast/slow" control (as it is in an automobile) but the altitude control.
I'm also finding it enjoyable to see the slight difference in how people described airplanes sixty years ago...the elevator surfaces are called "flippers" and the airplane, occasionally, a "ship".
Lesson tomorrow, but we're supposed to have light snow here in Olympia, so we'll see if VFR conditions prevail. Joel is still off work for a bit so I'm with a new instructor, Russell. I'll post if I go.
So I stumbled upon Stick and Rudder, a book written in 1944 but still one of the more popular treatments of basic aerodynamic forces and how a properly flown airplane exploits these forces in flight. The author's style is a bit like myth-busting...explaining thoroughly how the lay person's (which is to say the student pilot's) conception of things is often wrong. He is definitely reinforcing what Joel has been teaching me: the elevator (operated by moving the control wheel forward and back) is not the "up/down" control, but the airspeed (angle of attack) control, and the throttle is not the "fast/slow" control (as it is in an automobile) but the altitude control.
I'm also finding it enjoyable to see the slight difference in how people described airplanes sixty years ago...the elevator surfaces are called "flippers" and the airplane, occasionally, a "ship".
Lesson tomorrow, but we're supposed to have light snow here in Olympia, so we'll see if VFR conditions prevail. Joel is still off work for a bit so I'm with a new instructor, Russell. I'll post if I go.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Holes in the sky
OK, I'm going to stop numbering the lessons now. I imagine it was annoying you, the reader, as much as it was annoying me.
Today's lesson was pattern work, and Joel has advised me that I've hit what they call "the plateau". I'm comfortable with most of the initial easy things, but getting to the next level will involve a period of slow progress until it "clicks". That makes sense to me, and I'm in it for the long haul.
I tried a different headset today, not because I didn't like the Lightspeed one Joel has been lending me, but because I'll need to get my own soon and I wanted to try something different. Glacier has David Clark sets, and I tried one, and it worked ok. I'll give it another try; I'd like it if a DC works since they're about half the price of the Lightspeeds.
I'm getting quite comfortable with taxiing now. The winds were out of the north today, so that meant runway 35, which is a much longer taxi from the Glacier ramp than 17. So I got some good driving practice in, and Joel says it's a good sign that my taxi speed is up. Means I'm getting more comfortable in Zulu Tango.
We did eight pattern circuits. I handled all the takeoffs. A pilot friend told me before my first lesson last week: "Right rudder, Right rudder". Today that sunk in. My takeoffs are much more coordinated now, and I can stay on the runway centerline without Joel's assistance for the full roll. After circuit #4 or so, I improved my ability to hit pattern altitude (1000' above ground level, or AGL) and basically keep speeds where they need to be. My base and final legs are still pretty weak though. I'm having a tough time establishing the right glideslope on base, and I'm also not turning base at quite the right point. Nothing disastrous, but it needs some work.
After eight circuits, I was actually really tired. It's a lot of work and focused concentration.
Frankly, I'm ready for a week away from training (necessitated by a business trip). I'll take the books along and do some reading, but I've been hitting it pretty hard for several days now and I need a break. I'll be working with another instructor next weekend (Joel will be away for a week or so), which is not all bad--I can get the benefit of a slightly different style and perspective. Joel is terrific though--I have no intention of changing long-term.
Today's lesson was pattern work, and Joel has advised me that I've hit what they call "the plateau". I'm comfortable with most of the initial easy things, but getting to the next level will involve a period of slow progress until it "clicks". That makes sense to me, and I'm in it for the long haul.
I tried a different headset today, not because I didn't like the Lightspeed one Joel has been lending me, but because I'll need to get my own soon and I wanted to try something different. Glacier has David Clark sets, and I tried one, and it worked ok. I'll give it another try; I'd like it if a DC works since they're about half the price of the Lightspeeds.
I'm getting quite comfortable with taxiing now. The winds were out of the north today, so that meant runway 35, which is a much longer taxi from the Glacier ramp than 17. So I got some good driving practice in, and Joel says it's a good sign that my taxi speed is up. Means I'm getting more comfortable in Zulu Tango.
We did eight pattern circuits. I handled all the takeoffs. A pilot friend told me before my first lesson last week: "Right rudder, Right rudder". Today that sunk in. My takeoffs are much more coordinated now, and I can stay on the runway centerline without Joel's assistance for the full roll. After circuit #4 or so, I improved my ability to hit pattern altitude (1000' above ground level, or AGL) and basically keep speeds where they need to be. My base and final legs are still pretty weak though. I'm having a tough time establishing the right glideslope on base, and I'm also not turning base at quite the right point. Nothing disastrous, but it needs some work.
After eight circuits, I was actually really tired. It's a lot of work and focused concentration.
Frankly, I'm ready for a week away from training (necessitated by a business trip). I'll take the books along and do some reading, but I've been hitting it pretty hard for several days now and I need a break. I'll be working with another instructor next weekend (Joel will be away for a week or so), which is not all bad--I can get the benefit of a slightly different style and perspective. Joel is terrific though--I have no intention of changing long-term.
Lesson Three: slow flight and patterns
Last night Joel and I went up for lesson three. He suggested we combine some pattern work with basic emergency procedures and slow flight.
I'm doing the pre-flight inspections all by myself now, and getting pretty methodical about it. That is, I can go in a nice flow around the airplane without having to move from side to side because I forgot something. Just little things that come with experience--even the little bit I've had.
I'm also handling all the radio work now, and is definitely my strong-suit. The hours on vatsim have paid off (though I am now a firm believer that other than practicing radio phraseology with vatsim, a flight simulator is pretty much worthless for private pilot training.)
It was getting towards dusk when we started. We flew in early evening twilight down south of Olympia, to the area Glacier uses for practice maneuvers. Climbed to 2500, and Joel says, "You're about to have an engine failure, though you don't know it." As I'm absorbing what that means, and understanding that we're in a make-believe scenario, Joel cuts the throttle. I pitch up to get as much altitude out of our momentum as I can, and then establish a glide speed of around 65 knots. We start looking for a non-airport place for an emergency landing. There's a speedway near there, which would be excellent. I set up to land down the wide part of the oval, and didn't do too bad.
We climbed back up to 2000 or so, and reduced airspeed (maybe 70 knots), and then Joel had me gradually pitch up to reduce to the stall speed (which is 47 knots in our aircraft, assuming no flaps). As we got down to around 55 or so--mind you the aircraft is in a pretty steep pitch-up attitude at this point--the little horn starts going off, a little slower and the aircraft starts to shake a bit, and we really lose lift. We stopped short of a full stall, since you're not supposed to do intentional stalls in a 172. But I definitely got the gist of what it feels like and how it happens. We did it again for good measure, then I practiced VOR navigation to get us back to Olympia.
We did three circuits of the pattern, and I'm getting the hang of it, though it's surprising how many different things there are to remember within a span of about 5 minutes. It's one of those things that you just need to do enough for it to become natural.
Ground school followed, and pointed out to me how much more I need to be studying at home. So after facilitating Michael's (son, 7) bedtime routine, I hit the books until around 11.
I'm doing the pre-flight inspections all by myself now, and getting pretty methodical about it. That is, I can go in a nice flow around the airplane without having to move from side to side because I forgot something. Just little things that come with experience--even the little bit I've had.
I'm also handling all the radio work now, and is definitely my strong-suit. The hours on vatsim have paid off (though I am now a firm believer that other than practicing radio phraseology with vatsim, a flight simulator is pretty much worthless for private pilot training.)
It was getting towards dusk when we started. We flew in early evening twilight down south of Olympia, to the area Glacier uses for practice maneuvers. Climbed to 2500, and Joel says, "You're about to have an engine failure, though you don't know it." As I'm absorbing what that means, and understanding that we're in a make-believe scenario, Joel cuts the throttle. I pitch up to get as much altitude out of our momentum as I can, and then establish a glide speed of around 65 knots. We start looking for a non-airport place for an emergency landing. There's a speedway near there, which would be excellent. I set up to land down the wide part of the oval, and didn't do too bad.
We climbed back up to 2000 or so, and reduced airspeed (maybe 70 knots), and then Joel had me gradually pitch up to reduce to the stall speed (which is 47 knots in our aircraft, assuming no flaps). As we got down to around 55 or so--mind you the aircraft is in a pretty steep pitch-up attitude at this point--the little horn starts going off, a little slower and the aircraft starts to shake a bit, and we really lose lift. We stopped short of a full stall, since you're not supposed to do intentional stalls in a 172. But I definitely got the gist of what it feels like and how it happens. We did it again for good measure, then I practiced VOR navigation to get us back to Olympia.
We did three circuits of the pattern, and I'm getting the hang of it, though it's surprising how many different things there are to remember within a span of about 5 minutes. It's one of those things that you just need to do enough for it to become natural.
Ground school followed, and pointed out to me how much more I need to be studying at home. So after facilitating Michael's (son, 7) bedtime routine, I hit the books until around 11.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Lesson Two
Tonight was lesson #2 with Joel. A lot less adventurous than Saturday's tour, but much needed focus on fundamentals.
I did the pre-flight inspection myself; Joel invited me to do that myself in the future if I arrive ahead of him. ZT checked out just fine of course. The hardest part of pre-flight is inspecting the tops of the wings (which is also the opportunity to put back the few ounces of fuel extracted during fuel inspection--the fuel intake is up top). I need to work on my own agility, as I'm finding balancing on the struts and holding onto the wing a bit challenging. Maybe tomorrow I'll take the camera and ask Joel to take a picture of this entertaining aspect of pre-flight.
We completed the pre-start checklist, I got our taxi clearance, and we made the short trip from Glacier to the 17 runup area in just a few seconds. I did the takeoff on my own, climbed into the left traffic pattern, and began the process of driving in three dimensions. There are particular RPM, altitude, and speed targets for different segments of the pattern, interrupted by occasional radio transmissions. After a circuit or two, I got the hang of it, though certainly it will take practice.
The lesson was during that magical beautiful period when the sun sets through high clouds. The lights of Olympia were coming up, the airport lights were on, and on one circuit I had to extend downwind to get behind one of the Beechcraft 1900 aircraft that shuttles Intel employees back and forth between Hillsboro (near Portland) and the Intel facility near Olympia. As I extended downwind, I turned left base pretty darned close to home, though I was too busy to do any sightseeing. I found that the rabbit made it a little easier to find the centerline on approach.
We did four circuits of the pattern, and I did most of the flying, including landings (with a little adjustment from Joel). Tomorrow I think I may just about get it.
We parked the aircraft, went inside, and did about an hour of ground school. Joel, who is an aircraft mechanic on his day job, taught me more than I ever expected to know about magnetos, oil systems, and other mechanical details. I appreciate that he's capable of and willing to go into this depth--I find it interesting for one thing, and for another, you never know what that examiner might choose to explore on the particular day of my practical test...
Lesson three is tomorrow, and the weather looks good so far!
I did the pre-flight inspection myself; Joel invited me to do that myself in the future if I arrive ahead of him. ZT checked out just fine of course. The hardest part of pre-flight is inspecting the tops of the wings (which is also the opportunity to put back the few ounces of fuel extracted during fuel inspection--the fuel intake is up top). I need to work on my own agility, as I'm finding balancing on the struts and holding onto the wing a bit challenging. Maybe tomorrow I'll take the camera and ask Joel to take a picture of this entertaining aspect of pre-flight.
We completed the pre-start checklist, I got our taxi clearance, and we made the short trip from Glacier to the 17 runup area in just a few seconds. I did the takeoff on my own, climbed into the left traffic pattern, and began the process of driving in three dimensions. There are particular RPM, altitude, and speed targets for different segments of the pattern, interrupted by occasional radio transmissions. After a circuit or two, I got the hang of it, though certainly it will take practice.
The lesson was during that magical beautiful period when the sun sets through high clouds. The lights of Olympia were coming up, the airport lights were on, and on one circuit I had to extend downwind to get behind one of the Beechcraft 1900 aircraft that shuttles Intel employees back and forth between Hillsboro (near Portland) and the Intel facility near Olympia. As I extended downwind, I turned left base pretty darned close to home, though I was too busy to do any sightseeing. I found that the rabbit made it a little easier to find the centerline on approach.
We did four circuits of the pattern, and I did most of the flying, including landings (with a little adjustment from Joel). Tomorrow I think I may just about get it.
We parked the aircraft, went inside, and did about an hour of ground school. Joel, who is an aircraft mechanic on his day job, taught me more than I ever expected to know about magnetos, oil systems, and other mechanical details. I appreciate that he's capable of and willing to go into this depth--I find it interesting for one thing, and for another, you never know what that examiner might choose to explore on the particular day of my practical test...
Lesson three is tomorrow, and the weather looks good so far!
Student Pilot
Yesterday I officially became a student pilot, after completing the medical exam for a third-class medical certificate. Nothing more than an ordinary physical. In and out in 30 minutes.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Lesson One
Arrived at Glacier yesterday for my first lesson.
It started with my instructor, Joel, and I talking for about 20 minutes--my background, his background, my interest in aviation, what kind of training program I wanted...all good stuff for a solid foundation.
We spent around 40 minutes doing the pre-flight inspection of N738ZT, the Cessna 172 that we would take on what they call an "intro flight". We followed the checklist of around 20 steps or so, all pretty straightforward, and Joel was very helpful in answering all my questions.
We climbed into the airplane and Joel asked, "So where do you want to go today?" I had assumed this first lesson would be a few circuits around the traffic pattern at KOLM and maybe some maneuvers near the airport. Joel had something more adventurous in mind. We settled on Boeing Field (KBFI), south of downtown Seattle. I had mentioned to Joel my experiences on vatsim, plus monitoring the KOLM tower frequency on my radio at home; he asked if I would feel comfortable handling the tower communications on the trip. With barely concealed excitement, I agreed. He also informed me that I would be doing almost all of the taxiing, and a fair amount of the flying too.
We did the pre-start checklist, started the engine, got the KOLM ATIS (the recorded weather and runway information) and I called up the ground controller at KOLM to get taxi clearance. My first ATC communication went just fine. With our clearance to taxi to runway 35 in hand, I began the adventure that is driving with one's feet...the rudder pedals control both steering and brakes in a somewhat counter-intuitive combination. I didn't do too bad, but it will definitely take more practice.
After about 5 minutes we were at the end of 35, I pulled over into the runup area, and we did the pre-takeoff checklist, which basically means making sure the flight controls and engine are operating properly. Called up tower, got our takeoff clearance, and Joel had me do the takeoff roll. Quite a bit easier than I thought it would be, and I'll need some practice, but all in all not too bad.
We climbed up over Olympia's west side...the weather was terrific, only high clouds and no wind. We flew over Shelton and Allyn, two towns on the west side of Puget Sound, as Joel explained the VFR transition routes into KBFI. The idea is to fly over the north end of Vashon Island, call the tower there, cross the shoreline at 1500, and enter the pattern over the Seattle Reservoir. (If you're really interested, the official word is here.) I did much of it ok on my own, then Joel entered the pattern and landed on runway 31L. We called ground off the runway and requested taxi for immediate departure to the east. Got the clearance for 31R, executed another takeoff, and soon we were headed east over Seward Park in Seattle, over Mercer Island, south of Bellevue, and around Cougar Mountain to the south.
Joel asked if I wanted to do a little tour of Mount Rainier, and I said I'd rather do a touch-and-go landing someplace to get a better idea of airport operations and some more radio practice. We decided on Auburn (S50), and as if we'd planned it state highway 18 appeared below us...we followed it nearly to the field. We did a teardrop entry into the left traffic pattern after crossing midfield, did a quick touch-and-go, and headed southwest for downtown Tacoma. We needed to transition the airspace for Tacoma Narrows airport (KTIW) so I called the tower for clearance, got it, and Joel had me practice a little VOR (radio) navigation to get back home.
It was a terrific first lesson, I really learned a lot and also built a foundation of confidence for lessons two and beyond. I picked up my books and pilot tools, and that was that.
Today's lesson is cancelled due to weather, but we're hopeful for a lesson mid-week and another next weekend.
It started with my instructor, Joel, and I talking for about 20 minutes--my background, his background, my interest in aviation, what kind of training program I wanted...all good stuff for a solid foundation.
We spent around 40 minutes doing the pre-flight inspection of N738ZT, the Cessna 172 that we would take on what they call an "intro flight". We followed the checklist of around 20 steps or so, all pretty straightforward, and Joel was very helpful in answering all my questions.
We climbed into the airplane and Joel asked, "So where do you want to go today?" I had assumed this first lesson would be a few circuits around the traffic pattern at KOLM and maybe some maneuvers near the airport. Joel had something more adventurous in mind. We settled on Boeing Field (KBFI), south of downtown Seattle. I had mentioned to Joel my experiences on vatsim, plus monitoring the KOLM tower frequency on my radio at home; he asked if I would feel comfortable handling the tower communications on the trip. With barely concealed excitement, I agreed. He also informed me that I would be doing almost all of the taxiing, and a fair amount of the flying too.
We did the pre-start checklist, started the engine, got the KOLM ATIS (the recorded weather and runway information) and I called up the ground controller at KOLM to get taxi clearance. My first ATC communication went just fine. With our clearance to taxi to runway 35 in hand, I began the adventure that is driving with one's feet...the rudder pedals control both steering and brakes in a somewhat counter-intuitive combination. I didn't do too bad, but it will definitely take more practice.
After about 5 minutes we were at the end of 35, I pulled over into the runup area, and we did the pre-takeoff checklist, which basically means making sure the flight controls and engine are operating properly. Called up tower, got our takeoff clearance, and Joel had me do the takeoff roll. Quite a bit easier than I thought it would be, and I'll need some practice, but all in all not too bad.
We climbed up over Olympia's west side...the weather was terrific, only high clouds and no wind. We flew over Shelton and Allyn, two towns on the west side of Puget Sound, as Joel explained the VFR transition routes into KBFI. The idea is to fly over the north end of Vashon Island, call the tower there, cross the shoreline at 1500, and enter the pattern over the Seattle Reservoir. (If you're really interested, the official word is here.) I did much of it ok on my own, then Joel entered the pattern and landed on runway 31L. We called ground off the runway and requested taxi for immediate departure to the east. Got the clearance for 31R, executed another takeoff, and soon we were headed east over Seward Park in Seattle, over Mercer Island, south of Bellevue, and around Cougar Mountain to the south.
Joel asked if I wanted to do a little tour of Mount Rainier, and I said I'd rather do a touch-and-go landing someplace to get a better idea of airport operations and some more radio practice. We decided on Auburn (S50), and as if we'd planned it state highway 18 appeared below us...we followed it nearly to the field. We did a teardrop entry into the left traffic pattern after crossing midfield, did a quick touch-and-go, and headed southwest for downtown Tacoma. We needed to transition the airspace for Tacoma Narrows airport (KTIW) so I called the tower for clearance, got it, and Joel had me practice a little VOR (radio) navigation to get back home.
It was a terrific first lesson, I really learned a lot and also built a foundation of confidence for lessons two and beyond. I picked up my books and pilot tools, and that was that.
Today's lesson is cancelled due to weather, but we're hopeful for a lesson mid-week and another next weekend.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Orientation
Well, orientation at flight school was no big deal, just some paperwork and discussion about what the training program will be like. The FAA and TSA now require flight schools to keep a copy of your passport or birth certificate; I'm glad I could find mine easily.
Glacier seems very accommodating and willing to let me set the pace of the program. My goal is to wrap up the private pilot certificate by early summer, so I can enjoy as much of the summer flying weather as I can. But by no means will I rush it! Anyway, to hit that target, I need to commit about 4 hours per week to instruction time, in 2-hour blocks. So that's the plan for now.
I was glad to re-confirm that their approach is an instructor-student ratio of 1:1, even for ground school, and that much of it will be independent study under the instructor's guidance, rather than lectures and the like.
I have my first training sessions this weekend--one on Saturday, one on Sunday--and apparently if the weather is okay it will actually involve some time in the air.
Glacier seems very accommodating and willing to let me set the pace of the program. My goal is to wrap up the private pilot certificate by early summer, so I can enjoy as much of the summer flying weather as I can. But by no means will I rush it! Anyway, to hit that target, I need to commit about 4 hours per week to instruction time, in 2-hour blocks. So that's the plan for now.
I was glad to re-confirm that their approach is an instructor-student ratio of 1:1, even for ground school, and that much of it will be independent study under the instructor's guidance, rather than lectures and the like.
I have my first training sessions this weekend--one on Saturday, one on Sunday--and apparently if the weather is okay it will actually involve some time in the air.
First steps
OK, the process has begun...in fact, wheels were in motion before I even started the blog over the weekend.
Here is what I've accomplished so far:
Here is what I've accomplished so far:
- Chose a flight school. Glacier Aviation, at the Olympia Airport. Glacier was my first choice, based on personal recommendations from pilot friends, and as much Internet research as I could do. I met with the owner, who took 90 minutes of his time to give me a personal tour of the FBO and patiently answer my long list of questions. It seems to be an outfit that has its stuff together, so to speak.
- Arranged for my visit with the Aviation Medical Examiner (AME). Glacier provided a list of AMEs (physicians with approval from the FAA to examine pilots) in the area; I called the one in Olympia proper and found out he does pilot exams only on Wednesday mornings, and the first two weeks were booked up. So I'm scheduled for the 25th.
- Applied for my student pilot certificate. This is actually a health questionnaire that is a precursor to the AME visit. The FAA maintains an online application called MedExpress that, while a bit cumbersome, allows online entry of all the information and subsequent online access by the AME. Took me about 15 minutes to answer the questions and describe the handful of routine doctor visits I've had in the past 3 years. When I visit the doctor next week, he will review the information I supplied, give me a physical, and if all goes well issue my student pilot certificate, which technically is not needed prior to training--just prior to that first solo flight (still many weeks away).
Why?
Why am I expending effort, time, and money on becoming a pilot?
There really is no practical reason at all. I won't fly for work; even though I flew 120,000 miles on the job last year, living in the northwest precludes doing those trips in anything other than big tin under someone else's control. Because I'll be renting aircraft, I don't envision taking the family on long weekends to Bend or the Palouse (but day trips to the San Juan Islands are definitely in order!)
There really are two reasons.
The first is the challenge of being a pilot. Aviation is a nexus of several technical subjects that I enjoy: geography, weather, radio communications, technology (ok, gadgets.) It involves intense planning and consideration of alternatives, even for a short flight on a calm sunny day. It relies on the pilot's ability to understand personal and technical limitations, and to remain within them. I expect it will be intellectually stimulating and challenging, and I like that.
The second is being part of a community that is really available only to aviators. My sense is that people only get into this if they're really into it. The chance to be part of a community of pilots who really love it, either as a leisure pursuit or a career, excites me. I also believe that there is a part of the world that you can only see by being a private pilot. Part of it is the famed $100 hamburger, enjoyed in an FBO restaurant 50 miles from home, in the company of an FBO owner and other pilots who share a passion for aviation. Part of it is the unique perspective you get seeing things from the air (and there are so many things to see in this part of the world). I see all of this as a significant potential expansion of my community--the space I inhabit and the other people in it with me.
There really is no practical reason at all. I won't fly for work; even though I flew 120,000 miles on the job last year, living in the northwest precludes doing those trips in anything other than big tin under someone else's control. Because I'll be renting aircraft, I don't envision taking the family on long weekends to Bend or the Palouse (but day trips to the San Juan Islands are definitely in order!)
There really are two reasons.
The first is the challenge of being a pilot. Aviation is a nexus of several technical subjects that I enjoy: geography, weather, radio communications, technology (ok, gadgets.) It involves intense planning and consideration of alternatives, even for a short flight on a calm sunny day. It relies on the pilot's ability to understand personal and technical limitations, and to remain within them. I expect it will be intellectually stimulating and challenging, and I like that.
The second is being part of a community that is really available only to aviators. My sense is that people only get into this if they're really into it. The chance to be part of a community of pilots who really love it, either as a leisure pursuit or a career, excites me. I also believe that there is a part of the world that you can only see by being a private pilot. Part of it is the famed $100 hamburger, enjoyed in an FBO restaurant 50 miles from home, in the company of an FBO owner and other pilots who share a passion for aviation. Part of it is the unique perspective you get seeing things from the air (and there are so many things to see in this part of the world). I see all of this as a significant potential expansion of my community--the space I inhabit and the other people in it with me.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Olympia Pilot Debut
I am about to start an adventure, one that I have dreamed of since I can remember: becoming a pilot.
Tomorrow, February 17, 2009, is my flight training orientation. After years of thinking about it, I've finally taken the leap--with my family's gracious support--and signed up for training. Never mind that it's been 15 years since I've been in any kind of academic environment, requiring studying and reading and preparing for tests. I couldn't be more eager to get started...and hopefully in a few months obtain the privileges and accept the responsibilities of a private pilot.
I wanted to start this blog to share this experience, mostly with family and friends who are supporting me in this adventure, but also with others who may be thinking about going on this same journey. Once my formal training is finished, I plan to continue using this space to document the many adventures to come as I explore the beautiful, diverse, and exciting places in the Pacific Northwest.
Tomorrow, February 17, 2009, is my flight training orientation. After years of thinking about it, I've finally taken the leap--with my family's gracious support--and signed up for training. Never mind that it's been 15 years since I've been in any kind of academic environment, requiring studying and reading and preparing for tests. I couldn't be more eager to get started...and hopefully in a few months obtain the privileges and accept the responsibilities of a private pilot.
I wanted to start this blog to share this experience, mostly with family and friends who are supporting me in this adventure, but also with others who may be thinking about going on this same journey. Once my formal training is finished, I plan to continue using this space to document the many adventures to come as I explore the beautiful, diverse, and exciting places in the Pacific Northwest.
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