It's been a long time since I've flown. Spraining your ankle after falling off a plane, especially when you're just a young whippersnapper aviator such as myself, can have a very detrimental effect on your flying acumen and acuity. This thought hovered in the back of my head as I prepared for what would finally be my first flight since The Accident.
Stephen told me we'd be practicing diverts. See, the way the checkride works is that the examiner will tell you to plot a course to some far off airport. Of course, he's not going to sit on his ass for 5 hours while you take him there; shortly after takeoff, he will have you divert to a closer one so that you can demonstrate your landing ability.
"So," Stephen concluded, "we will simulate that. I want you to plan a flight to Napa airport." Napa, truly a far-off airport, is just across the Bay, about 30 minutes away. It didn't take long to plan the flight. Scagg's is right next to Napa, so ... direct to Scagg's, then look for Napa.
"Before we get there, I'll have you divert to an airport you haven't been to." Yay, surprises. "It should get you familiar with preparing to land at an unfamiliar airport while flying the plane."
Preflight went fine, but then, preflight's easy. I climbed up the airplane gingerly to check the fuel levels, stung by the ankle injury still. My first mistake didn't take long: I told Oakland Tower I wanted clearance to taxi, and they waved me off to Ground. Oops. Well, better that than a mistake during, say, landing.
So I told Ground where I wanted to go. They gave me my clearance, and I taxied the plane to runway 33.
"Let's do a soft-field takeoff."
OK. I pulled the stick back and pushed the throttle in for takeoff. Whoops -- soft-field takeoffs have 20 degrees of flaps. I yanked the throttle back out and the engine reluctantly settled back to idle. I added flaps and tried again.
So I've lost my edge...
The airplane lifted off in what was at best a passable rotation, and a poor departure. Stephen shook his head in disappointment as I screwed up the flaps-up procedure right in front of his face. The damn bird still flew though, and that's all I could ask.
The evening crosswind was in full effect, and my airplane was being blown about through the rising windshear.
"It's sure bumpy up here." Stephen stated the obvious as the plane struggled through the first 500 feet of altitude. Easy for him to say.
Oakland's air traffic controllers saw me out of the metropolis and then terminated their services. I pulled out the map and used some pilotage to verify I was on course to Napa. Stephen asked me a few questions and then told me to divert to Petaluma airport.
"I've been to Petaluma," I said flatly. I was so excited to learn what mysterious new airport I'd be landing at, too.
"You have? Oh. Oh well, go there anyway." Sigh.
I tried some pilotage at first to navigate to Petaluma, but Stephen suggested that instead I fly directly over the Scagg's VOR and then proceed outbound on a radial that would take me to Petaluma. I did some quick charting and figured out what I needed to do.
Having visually located the VOR tower while flying back from Santa Rosa two weeks ago, I was able to simply get to the VOR by finding it on the ground in front of me, rather than using the CDI. Still, as I passed over the VOR, the needles went wild and I got confused, and ended up flying out on the wrong course.
I made some corrections and eventually I was on course to Petaluma. I couldn't see the airport until it was right in front of me, ready to smack me upside the head. That's how it is sometimes. You search and scan for a runway, and you can't find it for the life of you, and then you take a second look and it's right there in front of you, large and plain as day.
Stephen had quizzed me to make sure I knew how to manage untowered airports, so I demonstrated this by calling for wind and traffic advisories and correctly reporting my position as I overflew the airport. I made a few radio mistakes here and there, but I did alright.
I overflew the airport but couldn't see the windsock. Slightly annoyed, Stephen pointed out to me, where, like the airport, it was in plain view exactly where I wasn't looking. Using it I deduced which runway to land on and the traffic pattern direction, and then made a descending turn to enter the pattern for runway 29.
Ah, two-niner. That takes me back to the last time I was at Petaluma ... my first cross-country flight, so long ago.
As I made the pattern turns, I set up for landing. It was a bit shaky but I managed to keep things under control. Turning final I was a little bit too fast, so I tried to keep my speed down, but before I could fix things, Stephen said to go around.
Predictably, my go around was utter shite.
"You didn't raise the nose. You took too long to push the throttle in. And you have to wait until you accelerate to VY before you start climbing." He listed off the problems like machine-gun rounds.
"Petaluma traffic, 854AC is going around, runway 29, Petaluma." I spoke these words of failure, broadcasting them for the whole sleepy airport to hear. Well, just my luck, another airplane was in the pattern too. He was right behind me, announcing his position. He landed just fine.
I made the traffic pattern again, and again turned final. This time, on final, I wasn't merely too fast -- I was way too fast. I was coming in around 110 MPH, way above VFE and around the cruising speed for this Skyhawk. It was my decision to go around this time, and I don't doubt Stephen would have agreed.
"Petaluma traffic, Skyhawk 4AC is going around ... again ... Petaluma." Oh, the shame! I might as well have said, "Petaluma traffic, Skyhawk 4AC doesn't know a damn thing about flying, Petaluma."
Stephen didn't let the opportunity pass. "An old pilot saying ... one go-around shows good judgement, two shows incompetence." Zing.
"Well, the last go-around was your idea, not mine. Does this mean we both have good judgement?"
I turned downwind again and again set up for landing.
"You turn base too early," Stephen said. "That's why you're coming in too fast." OK, simple enough: I'll turn base further out. I did and my speed was much more under control coming in to land. There was still the matter than the runway was thin as a string and the crosswind was pretty imposing. Despite it all, I managed to put the plane down reasonably softly. It bounced once.
I turned off the runway and Stephen pointed out the location of the fuel pump. Parked next to it was a beautiful Beech twin, with its sleek curves, two powerful engines, and spacious luxury interior. I mentioned that it looked so out of place in such a sleepy airport as this, and opined that it might even be a turboprop.
I parked alongside the Beech and prepared to refuel the plane. There was no stepladder. Suddenly I'm having flashbacks. Stephen hands me the fuel nozzle and recommends I just climb up the plane and refuel it.
"Oh sure, it's not like I've ever hurt my foot doing that." I waited until the Beech pilots were done with their stepladder, then bogarted that bad boy for my own use. Even the ladder was a rickety, unstable one, and I was very anxious while pumping gas into the wings. Like in Vertigo, it will be a little while before I can refuel planes the same way again.
After I was done refueling, and Stephen and I had our fill of trying to figure out how to work the alien pump, we climbed back into the plane.
"Now I want you to plan a flight to Rio Vista." There's an airport I haven't been to. "Fly over the Scagg's VOR." Surprise, some more practice flying over VOR's. I figured out how to fly it as the Beech started up its engines. It did so with a sputtering, jarring roar of a piston. Definitely not a turboprop.
The twin pulled out in front of us, and we stopped to let a very cool looking motorglider pass the other direction, then followed the twin to the runway threshold. There it sat for a good 10 minutes, doing an extremely long runup.
"Why don't you squeeze past them?" Stephen suggested. So I carefully and slowly brought my plane through the tight space they left for us, and maneuvered around the large Beech to the runway. I announced my intentions then made a takeoff and a right downwind departure from the airport.
I tuned in Scagg's and flew directly over the VOR again, and again I fucked it up. After flying outbound on more-or-less the right course, Stephen had me call it quits and return to Oakland.
I turned southward, on a course which put me directly through the path of aircraft departing Napa airport.
"Look to your left," Stephen said flatly. I did, and greeting me was another airplane which had just passed under us, uncomfortably close. It was at that moment that I realized I was flying through Napa's departure path. I tightened my turn to get out of the way, and remembered the last time I made this mistake. I bet Napa tower would be yelling at me again too, if they could.
I checked back in with NorCal and got my clearance to proceed to Oakland. They told me to squawk 0314 and I did. I heard nothing from them for a bit, then:
"854AC, confirm squawking 0314."
"854AC, that's affirmative, 0314."
"854AC, ident." Uh-oh. They can't find us. I idented and eventually heard back from them.
"4AC, we have you on scope, but show you squawking 0315 and I don't see your mode-c."
"Roger, recycling the transponder." Stephen turned it off and on. Transponders are such finicky things.
"4AC, no luck."
"Well, it's broken," Stephen said to me. "I bet that's the one from 12R. We can tell Ginny she needs to get a new transponder." This segued into a conversation about the future of the club's planes; in particular, the plans the club has to sell one or two of them, and use the money to spruce up the rest. That's a relative term -- it's like putting lipstick on the pig. At least maybe they can afford a modern transponder, though.
"4AC, I see you now, 0314, and your mode-C is working, level at 2600 feet."
The gremlins cleared out of the transponder and we were handed off to Tower as I made the approach.
"Tower, 6YC, traffic at your 3 o'clock, Cessna, level with you, landing on 27R, report them in sight."
"6YC has the traffic."
" 4AC, traffic at your 9 o'clock, Cherokee, level with you, landing on 27L, report them in sight."
Sure enough, right next to me was a Piper Cherokee landing just across from me. "4AC, traffic in sight."
"Wonderful," the controller said, undoubtedly satisfied.
Stephen asked me to demonstrate a textbook crosswind landing, and we sure had our fair share of crosswind. I concentrated hard as I did my best to bring the plane down smoothly. It wasn't perfect, but it was a pretty good landing, all things considered.
"Good job," Stephen remarked. "You're clearly rusty in other areas, but we can iron these things out."
I taxied directly back to the Old T's, secured the plane, and returned to the clubhouse to talk about my future. As usual, Stephen asked me how I was scoring on the practice tests. As usual, it wasn't hight enough.
"I can sign you off to take the written now, if you want, but I'd rather a smart guy like you come into checkride with a nice high score." Sure, I'll hold it off. My checkride is still a week or two away, anyway.
"When I fly with you next, we'll do another flight directly over a VOR." I still have to tidy up that skill area, apparently. "Finally, you need to finish up your solo requirements. Where are you going for your long cross-country?"
"I was thinking Fresno to Monterey to Oakland?"
"I'd do Fresno to Salinas to Oakland. Monterey is kind of a beehive."
"Okay."
As I walked out of the Old T's, parked there I saw Grumman F6F Hellcat, a large and menacing-looking WWII fighter, painted in USAAF trainer colors, perched and silent. You never realize how big those old warbirds are until you see them parked next to you. Man, what a beautiful aircraft. I should have taken a picture of it for you guys.
So, looks like, weather and God-willing, Saturday will be my long cross-country solo. There's only a few things left to do!
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