Last lesson Stephen really pushed me to start scheduling my lessons earlier. If I wanted to solo I'd have to wait for calm winds, and those never happen in the evening. He said the winds pick up around 3pm, when they're at their worst, and then die down later in the evening.
So, I guess it was no surprise that I scheduled this lesson for 3pm. Not because I like wind, the force that turns ordinary scary landings into the type that make you lose your hair, but because that's the only time I could reserve a plane. C'est la vie.
Today we'd be practicing short-field takeoffs and landings, and soft-field takeoffs and landings. Oakland was in a sort of disarray, with half its runways and taxiways closed for repair. Neither of us knew exactly why, but in light of this, Stephen decided I'd fly out to bitty little Byron airport to the east.
In addition, Stephen instructed me to request a takeoff from runway 27L instead of 15/33, so that I became more familiar with Oakland's geography.
I got my clearance and departed to the east for Byron, buffeted by winds the entire way. For some reason NorCal was particularly busy today, so there were more than a few times I converged near other aircraft. NorCal couldn't give me traffic alerts fast enough. I didn't hit anyone, however, so it all worked out fine.
Upon arriving at Byron I noted the active runway and then entered into the pattern. Byron is a small, uncontrolled airport with a UNICOM frequency like Petaluma. Stephen had alleged that Petaluma would be a more relaxed and chatty radio environment than Oakland, but it turned out to be stark quiet and empty.
Byron was reasonably busy, and on UNICOM were a collection of backwater pilots chatting and enjoying flying. It wasn't like cocktail-party conversation, but definitely more lax than Oakland's white-starch-shirt environment. How anyone lands at Byron when it gets busy there is a mystery to me. When we arrived there was a glider, its tow plane, and two other aircraft in the pattern. They seemed to barely avoid colliding into each other by frantically warning each other over the radio. It was amusing to witness from afar, but jarring to be a part of.
I suppose it's just different. At big airports you get the puppetmaster directing the whole marionette, but at smaller places like Byron it's a bit more like an improv show with a lot of audience participation.
A short-field landing is one where the landing distance is minimized. You try to touch down as close to the edge of the runway as you can, with full flaps and going as slow as possible, and then you hit the brakes and get the airplane stopped with as little runway behind you as possible. A short-field takeoff accomplishes the same idea: You take off with flaps and get the wheels off the runway ASAP, then climb when you've accelerated to climb speed.
I practiced one short-field landing then Stephen decided that Byron was too windy, so he told me to proceed to Livermore Municipal. I climbed to 3,000 feet and checked in with Livermore, entering their pattern. I tried another short-field approach there, where the wind was no better. Stephen decided, to hell with it, let's just return to Oakland and do our approaches there.
So, back to Oakland. By now the runways and taxiways had opened up so the place wasn't a mess anymore. I entered the pattern for 27L and began more short- and soft-field takeoffs and landings.
Soft-field operations are tricky. The idea is that the ground is muddy, so if your plane ever stops it will sink. Also, if you get too much weight on the plane when it lands, it will sink and flip over. So, for taxi, you never stop the plane, you always keep rolling, and you keep full elevator back to lighten the load on the nosewheel. For takeoff you get the nosewheel out of the mud as soon as possible, then take off when prudent. For landing you hold the nosewheel off the ground as long as possible and land as slow as possible.
I did seven more short- and soft-field operations. On the last one, Stephen felt devious so he put covers over the airspeed indicator and the altimeter, blocking my view of them. "You just had an instrument failure." I had an opportunity to practice takeoffs and landings while guessing my airspeed and altitude.
The lesson ended up running nearly 2 hours, so since we were short on time Stephen told me to forgo refueling. I brought the plane back to the Old T's and shut her down.
Stephen told me that, from now on, when he's in the plane, each of my takeoffs and landings should be either a short- or a soft-field one, to keep me in practice. He went on to mention that, since my Saturday lesson was at 9 am, if the winds were favorable, it would be my first solo.
I was of course happy, but not surprised. I had expected Saturday to be my first solo. I am looking forward to it, and also scared to high Hell thinking about my first solo landing.
In the meantime, as long as the weather isn't soloable, Stephen and I will push forth into material on cross-country flights. But any day where the winds are 10 knots or less, and the crosswind component is 5 knots or less, is a day I fly alone!
Cost so far: $3,947.61
Time so far: 47 days
Hours so far: 17.2
Projected certification date: August 7, 2007
Projected total cost: $11,475.61
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