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.
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