Today is very hot. I arrived at the Old T's sweating and panting. Stephen arrived shortly afterwards, wearing shorts for the first time. Me, I usually wear shorts in the coldest days of winter but for some reason I had decided to wear pants. I was regretting that decision.
Today I was supposed to be flying N739UL. Both my instructor and I wanted to practice landing in an aircraft other than N854AC, since I had been using it so much lately. However, on entering the club building, the previous operator of 9UL told me that there was a pin missing from the nosewheel landing gear. He said he flew without the pin anyway, but Stephen decided to play it safe and had me switch my reservation to 4AC. Another day, 9UL, another day...
I had a choice today -- I could practice more landings, or I could do my pre-solo flight review. I had been doing landings nonstop the previous weeks, and I thought it would be nice to get a change of pace. Plus, I could really use a review on steep turns and slow flight.
During preflight Stephen wandered over to 9UL to inspect the nose gear. He said he didn't see anything in particular wrong with it, but we had already switched our reservation anyway. Oh well.
The sky was completely free of clouds, allowing the sun to beat down on me. Such a day would be a nice day to wash these planes (4AC could really use a wash, too), and I saw that some of the other people were washing various planes today, as well as spraying each other.
The wind was mighty unusual today. Usually it comes from the west, but today it was coming from 190°, which I had never seen before. This actually ended up being fortuitous for takeoff, since I could use runway 15 instead of the usual 33. Runway 33 is a mile or so away, and 15 is right next to us.
I got my clearance to depart on 15, and Stephen told me to make a turn over the terminal area right after takeoff, then continue at 2,500 feet towards San Pablo Bay, where we would do our review.
Along the way we passed close to the MacArthur maze, so I snapped a photo of the collapse. I was so eager to get it I simply took my hands off the controls and produced my camera, prompting Stephen to sigh and say "I've got the plane" (translation: "Next time ask me first, please").
NorCal departure was particularly tied up with an air-headed woman who sounded hopelessly lost over the radio. Every five minutes the controller would call her and explain to her what new thing she had done incorrectly, and she'd apologize and make a fumbling attempt to correct. At first I thought she was some poor student, but as time went on it became clear that she was either a very rusty private pilot or a soloing student who clearly wasn't ready for it.
After making clearing turns Stephen had me practice slow flight. I was obviously a little rusty, so Stephen provided a quick refresher on the parts I forgot. He had me do slow flight and turns with and without flaps, as well as a power-on stall without flaps. Other than a tendency to bleed altitude during entry into slow flight, I was doing OK.
The annoying air-headed woman and her constant blundering over the radio was making impossible to talk to Stephen, so he requested a frequency change. NorCal denied his request: Apparently the air-headed woman was flying in our vicinity and NorCal was afraid that, without being able to sequence us around her, she'd run into us. Stephen and I let out heavy sighs.
Next he had me review steep turns. My first one I botched completely, and my second wasn't much better. Stephen told me to use the airplane's attitude as my primary reference during the turn. This was welcome advice: I had been using the VSI as my primary reference and it caused me to "oscillate" during tuns: pitch the nose up and down trying to maintain altitude.
So, I would use the attitude indicator while looking in the cockpit, and I would choose a dead mosquito smooshed on the windshield as my reference while looking outside.
This improved my steep turns enormously. I only drifted out of altitude parameters once during the 720° turn. Stephen was pleased.
Next we proceeded to Hamilton airport to practice emergency descents. Stephen again made the point that if my engine catches fire, I'm probably just going to explode, but the FAA wants us to practice this anyway. Power off, cab heat on, full flaps, 60° bank, and loaded turns. As I did it the vertical speed increased dramatically -- I could hear the wind pounding against my side door as the plane dropped from the sky. We lost a thousand feet of altitude in mere seconds.
Stephen told me to make sure I didn't exceed 85 knots, the maximum flap extension speed. I noted that with so much air rushing into the static port on the side of the plane, the airspeed indicator is probably unreliable. He said that it didn't matter, since if the engine were actually on fire I should probably just go ahead and damage the flaps if it will help me get on the ground more quickly, but "please don't break the flaps during training." I did my best to keep the airspeed low.
At about 1,000 feet Stephen had me recover to normal flight and climb back to altitude. During the climb --- uh oh! -- Stephen pulled the power back to idle. A fake engine out emergency. I narrated the steps to him as I did my checklist.
I selected Hamilton field (right below us) as my landing spot, flew outward from it and turned back to final approach, did my emergency landing checklist, and began S-turns and flaps to bleed off altitude. At five hundred feet he brought the power back on and congratulated me on a job well done.
My next challenge was to fly the plane back to Oakland with no help at all from Stephen. He told me to demonstrate that I could handle landing, navigating, and the radios without his help. Okay, sure. I got the ATIS, proceeded over Richmond, and checked in with NorCal approach. I didn't get any specific orders so I just headed to the Mormon temple.
About 5 miles out from the temple, Approach switched me to Tower, where I checked in for landing. They cleared me to land on 27R. I would soon learn that it would have been wise to ask for another airport, considering the screwy wind today. But, of course, I am still a robot over the radio, so I simply parrot any orders I am given.
Upon turning final, thanks to the heavy crosswind, I overshot the runway so much I was in the final approach path for 27L. Stephen muttered out a grave "oh dear," but I confidently quipped, "I can fix it!" With some quick maneuvering I put the plane back on course for 27R.
Approaching 27R, the crosswind was so significant that I was nearly looking out the side window to keep the runway in sight. The airplane was pointing around 45° off from the runway centerline to keep its course. Stephen was pleased, though, since my plane's track stayed precisely aligned with the runway.
About 100 feet away from the runway or so, a sudden gust of wind caught us both off-guard. It threw the plane up and off course. Before I had any time to react, another gust of wind caused the plane to rapidly sink. Working quickly, I set up the plane for a shaky landing seconds before touching the ground, and touched down a hair's breadth away from disaster.
After rolling off the runway, I stopped the plane and we caught our breath. Stephen looked at me and said, "That ... was amazing. It takes a hell of a lot of skill to land the plane in that kind of wind, and you did wonderfully."
I suppose I should have felt elated, but as I sat there -- eyes wide with terror, face blanched, stark-white hands still maintaining a death grip on the wheel -- he never would have seen the emotion surface.
Every praise from Stephen comes with its criticism, and such was quick to follow. "However, I wouldn't have done that landing. You shouldn't have done that landing. It's way too dangerous. You should have gone around."
We refueled at Kaiser and returned to the Old T's. As I got out of the airplane, I noticed another plane on final to 27R, going around. Stephen pointed at it and said, "See? He's not going to chance that landing." He refused to do the landing that I had so bravely and foolishly accomplished with white knuckles.
At the clubhouse I felt in sort of a trance. The landing had demanded so much of my concentration and attention, that normal activity seemed attenuated and detached. Stepping out of the plane, my feet struggled to know what solid ground felt like. It would be an hour or so before my mind had fully grasped my continued state of being alive.
Stephen went over my short-comings from the pre-solo review, then mentioned (again) that the wind will have to calm down before I do my first solo. However, he did tell me he will give me my solo endorsement once I demonstrate three unassisted takeoffs and landings in calm winds. So, the next opportunity I get, I will prove to him my landing proficiency (as if I hadn't already), and I will receive my solo endorsement.
Then I will begin praying for calm winds.
Cost so far: $3,684.81
Time so far: 44 days
Hours so far: 15.4
Projected total cost: $11,963.67
Projected certification date: August 12, 2007
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