Fear Of Not Flying

Hi, and welcome to this week's meeting of PhobAnon. I'm Michael, and I'll be guiding us through this meeting and listening to all your stories. I see we have some new folks with us tonight. Anyone care to share with us their phobia?

Uh, I guess I'll share. Hi, my name is Greg and I have a phobia that I just can't explain.

Go on, Greg. We're listening.

It's kind of embarrassing, to be honest with you.

The only thing that is embarrassing, Greg, is to have to live your life with this phobia of yours tucked away and kept out of sight. Tell us. We'll help you.

Okay, here goes. I have a phobia of making an airplane stall.

That's a new one to us. Everybody...get comfortable. We're going to be here a while with this one.

It's simple, really. I am working on my private pilot's license at the local airport. Part of that journey involves stalling the airplane. You know, making it stop flying.

And why are you afraid of doing this, Greg?

Because...you know...I'm supposed to fly the airplane. When an airplane doesn't fly -and it's 3,000 feet in the air- then gravity can happen.

I see, I see. Class, has anyone experienced this fear of stalling an airplane before?

Anybody? Bueller?

Look. I don't expect anybody to identify with me on this one, Michael. There are only 600,000 pilots in this country of about 250 million people. We're a small bunch.

So, have you asked other pilots about your phobia of stalling the airplane?

Yep. They all say it's really an easy thing. However, most of them didn't turn a power-off stall into a power-on dive recently.

English, Greg. Use it.

In a nutshell...I went from flying very slow and pointing up to flying very fast and pointing straight down. Right at a mountain covered with trees.

Sounds fun.

It was. But it was also the wrong thing to do. I was supposed to go from pointing up to pointing nice and level and making the plane fly again. Missed it by that much...

And this led to your fear of stalling the plane?

Exactly, Michael. Ever since that episode, doing stalls is very frustrating. I have to overcome this, eventually.

And when was the last time you stalled?

About three hours ago. I was up in the air with my CFI –that means Certified Flight Instructor– Dola. We worked on doing stalls again. The first three weren't good at all. I kept trying to catch it, then release. Catch it, then release. It's called the Falling Leaf. You just keep going up and then down, and never really recover the plane.

Did you do this for money?

No. Actually, I paid two bucks a minute to do it. About $120 for the hour.

Great googly—

I did make progress, Michael. On the fourth and final stall, I talked myself through it, did everything by the numbers. And while we didn't reach a fully-developed stall, I did catch the stall at the beginning, made the right corrections, and then got us out of there, back to flying nice and level. I only descended a little bit. So, I had success.

Class, I'd like for everyone to stand up. Okay, let's get behind Greg here and help him with this fear of stalking...

It's stalling, Michael.

Stalling. Class, open your songbooks to page 172. Michael Row The Boat Ashore always cures these freaks –um, I mean unique folks– of their phobias. Ready? Sing. Michael row–

Whoa there, big fella'. Stop singing. Anything but that song. It won't help.

Okay then. How about Cumbaya? Ready? Sing. Cumba–

Nope. The only thing that will help me is getting back in the airplane and doing more stalls. A few landings would help, too. We're supposed to do that on Sunday.

So, how can we help? That's what we're here to do, you know. We treat all kinds of phobias. Just last week, we had some lady in here with a fear of black dress shoes. Figure THAT one out. We couldn't. Some things are just beyond the cure a verse of Go Tell Aunt Rhody can offer, I guess.

Just wish me luck. There's really nothing you can do to help. It's all on me, this time.

So, may I ask why you came to this PhobAnon meeting, then?

I dunno'. Someone said there was free food in the conference room. Cheez Whiz on a Triscuit is like Kryptonite to me.

Okay, class. Turn to page 210. Let's sing Froggy Went A' Courtin'. Ready…sing.

Logbook:
• Pilot In Command: 12.7 hours
• Take-Offs: 4
• Landings: 3 (CFI 2 gave me credit for one)
• Confidence Level: Currently stalled in the Practice Area.

You Can Smell The Sea Breeze At 1,500 Feet. Trust Me...

N1467U with Yours Truly at the controls, CFI Brian hanging his arm out, and my Dad in the back seat. This was the Perfect Flight.

When a runway is 6000 feet long and 150 feet wide, it takes a LOT of skill to miss it in a Cessna 172 at about 65 knots, just 100 feet off the ground.

So, I landed the plane.

And when I say landed, I mean I landed the plane with no help from another soul. Not CFI Brian, not my dad in the back seat. No one but me.

In short...I did my first completely, totally, without-any-doubt unassisted landing of an airplane today, at Grand Strand Airport in North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.

And the feeling as it all unfolded was, well, euphoric.

Let's play Three Questions.

1. Had a bad day?

Fly at the beach.

2. Feeling like life is passing you by?

Fly at the beach.

3. Can't decide between Obama and McCain?

Fly at the beach.

There are few (if any) conditions that cannot be cured by flying a plane at the beach. I learned this fact today (Saturday) in Cherry Grove, South Carolina (just north of North Myrtle Beach). Cherry Grove is one of my few favorite places on earth. Our family has owned vacation property here since the very early '90s. We visit at least 2x a year.

And this morning, I had the thrill of taking my dad along for his first ride with me at the controls, as well as his friend John. My retired parents (and John) split their time between WV and Cherry Grove every year, living at the beach when it's not football season. Today was John's birthday, and my gift to him was a quick flight around Cherry Grove out of Grand Strand (CRE) Airport.

I had the plane (a sweetheart of a C172 with the tail number of N1467U) and CFI Brian reserved for an hour starting at 9am, and the whole gang arrived a few minutes before. CFI Brian was running late, so the fine folks at Ramp 66 (the FBO) allowed me to pre-flight the plane to fill the time. N1467U was in fine shape, and I took the time to show my parents (and John) every detail I was looking for in the preflight.

The three amigos; My dad, John, and Yours Truly with N1467U at Grand Strand Airport (CRE) after our flights. photo by Ruth Perry aka Mom.

The plan was for CFI Brian, yours truly, and one passenger to go up at a time, fly a loop around the Cherry Grove area, and return to pick up the next passenger. In reality, the goal for ME was to become familiar with CRE as it is the airport I will one day soon be flying to after I earn my ticket (PPL). The fact that my dad and John got to see me display my skills was just icing on the cake.

CFI Brian arrived and we got John in the back seat of N1467U. John flew a LOT of commercial flights in his working years, but in very few small GA-type planes. He is a car guy (like me), a photo guy (like me) and naturally, an airplane guy too.

CRE is a cross between the airports I have been or will be training at; it is a towered airport, but does not have commercial air service. It's all GA action. Runways 5-23 are 6,000 feet long and 150 feet wide and glorious to behold from the cockpit of a C172.

During run-up, we discover a fouled spark plug during the magneto check. CFI Brian shows me how to clear out a fouled plug by running the engine at WOT and leaning just until the RPMs begin to drop. Bingo, the magneto works flawlessly when we re-check it.

Grand Strand Tower, Skyhawk 1467 Uniform is ready for departure on Runway two-three.

1467 Uniform, cleared for takeoff with eastbound departure.

And with that, I firewalled N1467U. She climbed easily and effortlessly as we headed right toward the coast over North Myrtle Beach. Once over the water, we did a nice left turn and simply headed straight up the coast, about 1/4 mile offshore at 1,500 feet and 90 knots. The air was literally as smooth as glass; I have not had air this nice since I began my training back at HTW.Cherry Grove, SC from about 1500 feet. It is one of the Greatest Places On Earth.

Up past Cherry Grove, to Little River Inlet, then a turn back inland to return down the back side of Cherry Grove. John is doing his best Japanese tourist impersonation, snapping the photos that accompany this story. With every adjustment to the airplane's power or pitch, I try and tell John exactly what we're doing and why. To his credit, CFI Brian let me make all the decisions and only helped out when needed.

Grand Strand Tower, 1467 Uniform is on two-mile final for Runway two-three.

1467 Uniform, cleared to land on Runway two-three.

"Give me 1,500 rpm and be at 1,000 feet," CFI Brian says. He has me on a straight-in approach to CRE. If I were back at HTW, this would be verboten; HTW is untowered and therefore, you use a conventional left-hand pattern to land. With the tower, however, you do as they say.

Straight in it shall be.

CFI Brian dials in the flaps, and I let him know that I'll hand the controls over to him about 50 feet off the ground. I'm just now starting to work on doing landings, and really, I'm at an unfamiliar airport in an unfamiliar plane.

CFI Brian takes the controls and gets 1467U back on the ground. I taxi us in and we shut down. Feeling like the bus driver, I ask for the next passenger, my dad. He climbs in, we get him in the headsets and fire 1467U back up.

At this stage, I have to admit I was more nervous as pilot-in-command than I have ever been during this entire process. My dad is in the back seat, and I'm now running the show in a Cessna 172. Every turn had to be perfect, each move done to Practical Test Standards. If not...then I would have failed (in my eyes) to deliver to him the experience he deserved to witness.

We do the run up and again the one magneto has troubles. We lean the engine out again, voila', magneto's as good as new on 1467U. Throttle to the firewall and I take my dad (and CFI Brian) on what might be the best display of my flying skills to date.

It was a carbon copy of the first trip up with our friend John. However, I now had the knowledge of what-is-where along the coast line. We ascended to 2,500 feet this time, and I asked dad about every 30 seconds how he was doing.

"I'm doing just great back here," he said. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear in his tone of voice that, yes, he was having a good time watching me fly 1467U along his beloved Grand Strand.

Every turn was somewhat shallow (about 20* bank angle), and I never gained nor lost altitude. My control of the throttle was precise. Dad deserved as much.

The BIG Moment

We turned around and pointed 1467U back toward CRE. CFI Brian had me aim her for a water tower that puts you on a direct line for Runway 23, and I nailed his request for 1,500 feet of altitude. With 23 in sight, we make the radio call and get cleared for landing.

"Okay, Brian, you want to take her in at about the 50 foot mark like last time?" I ask.

"Just keep flying until she won't fly any more," was CFI Brian's reply. Mmmmkay. CFI Brian dials in the first 10 degrees of flaps.

100 feet.

Runway 23 is BIG. I mean, it's 6,000 feet long and 150 feet wide. Any monkey could steer the plane right onto the tarmac...

75 feet.

Winds are a little gusty, so I keep aiming for the numbers, just waiting for CFI Brian to say "the controls are mine." He never does.

50 feet.

Okay, Brian, you can take the controls at any time.

"A little more speed," CFI Brian says. I give 1467U a little gas. He nudges the yoke on his side of the cabin a teensy, weensy little bit. That is the last time he will control the airplane in any way, shape or form.

Pitch for speed. Power for altitude. CFI Dola has drilled those lines into my brain, and now they are taking hold and I'm actually *doing* what she has been preaching.

25 feet.

The ailerons are of little use. I keep us on the centerline of Runway 23 using more rudder than anything else. I kill the power back to idle speed, having made the runway. I didn't even think about doing it...I just did it.

10 feet.

"Okay, begin the flare now. Eaaaasy."

The tires chirp ever-so-slightly.

Mission Control, the Eagle has landed.

I landed 1467U all on my own and the feeling was euphoric. Heavenly, even.

"Greg did that landing all on his own!" my dad exclaimed upon meeting my mom, Jennifer and the JuliaK, and our friend John after we had taxied in. "It was great."

I'm done. Shot. Finished. Yet on this weird type of high that I cannot explain.

Jennifer and the JuliaK walk out to meet Daddy, CFI Brian, and my Dad after what is, without question, the Perfect Flight.

I nailed the perfect flight when it mattered most, with my dad riding in the back. $120/hour seems pretty cheap right about now. I would have paid $12,000 for the hour had I known how good it was going to be from the start.

You can put it up there with getting married, seeing the JuliaK born, and all that.

It was that good.

I Hate The Weather Part Deux

Would you drive 475 miles by car in order to go and fly a Cessna 172 for an hour or so?

That appears to be EXACTLY what I'm going to do this week. I've lost my mind, it appears.

Due to vacation, I last flew with CFI Dola some 3 weeks ago. We had scheduled a Two-Fer today (Sunday) to make up for lost time...but...there's that crappy weather that WV has basked in 'lo these last 2-3 months. WV is more like south Florida right now than I can remember in the last 10 years; every day, we have thunderstorms that brew up randomly.

Day, night, morning, noon...we get them every day. And with those storms comes a low ceiling and gusty winds. So, no flying for a low-hour student like me.

At this pace, I will complete my PPL in, oh, about 4 years. I made it through college in five years, so...

When we last left off, I had planned on renting a C172 and CFI at North Myrtle Beach airport (CRE) while at our favorite vacation spot. Alas, time and weather (and a little bit of drama on behalf of our 18 year-old and her friend) kept me from flying at CRE. We returned last weekend.

The GOOD news is that we are going back to North Myrtle Beach (Cherry Grove, actually) this coming weekend to celebrate the 4th of July with my parents. I am calling the FBO at CRE on Monday and reserving the C172 and CFI for Saturday mid-morning, to avoid the late-afternoon winds and thunderstorms.

I WILL FLY this week. I have to. It's been almost a month and I'm having withdrawals.

CFI Dola called to cancel today, and she reassured me that every student goes through bad weather periods and that we would get where we're going eventually. She is really good at turning lemons into lemonade, and that's why I like learning from her.

I am on the edge of learning how to land a C172, the part I've really looked forward to since beginning my instruction a few months ago. Yet, Mother Nature says, "no." In order to play catch-up, CFI Dola suggested we do as many two-fers (two lessons in one day) as we can when I get back from my second summer vacation.

I hate this weather. I hate this weather. I hate this weather.

If there is no post on this blog come Sunday July 6, you will know that I did not fly at CRE and therefore drowned my sorrows in wine on Saturday night.

I hate this weather.

Straight Down, With A Windshield Full Of Trees

When I say 700 Feet Over The Trees, here's what I mean. Runway 8-26 is 568' MSL. Your altimeter better read at least 700' if you want to clear the trees.

Mr. 10 Feet Tall And Bullet-Proof got knocked down a couple feet today.

I never saw it coming, right up to the point the view out the windshield of N55212 went from blue sky to mountainside and trees, that is.

CFI Dola and I flew on Sunday morning, greeted by more of these lovely 92*F temperatures and 10kt gusting winds. Today's lesson was power-off stalls. In short, we trasitioned to slow (under 50kts, full flaps) flight, then kept pulling back and back and back on the yoke until N55212 stopped flying.

The trick -I learned this the hard way- to recovery is to release the backpressure on the yoke, apply full throttle, turn off carb heat, and pull the flaps up to 20*. All in that specific order. If you do too much of one and not enough of the other, the stall suddenly becomes a memorable event. Go figure…

Here's how the stalls went, in order:

Stall Number One was a very slow and gradual stall. I had never stalled in this configuration before, so I was very gingerly pulling the yoke back. CFI Dola had me enter slow flight, yet still maintain flying the plane toward a specific heading/landmark. Which is REAL work on a 92*F day. In case you missed it…slow flight also means No Air In The Cockpit. Maintaining constant backpressure in 92*F conditions with no air coming in means you are covered in sweat immediately.

Finally, N55212 released her grip on the air and nosed over. I recovered somewhat slowly, with CFI Dola saying, "Throttle now. Carb heat, now. Flaps, now. Hurry up."

Stall Number Two provided the excitement for today. And for tomorrow. And possibly enough excitement left over for Monday as well. We once again returned to slow flight, dialing in more flaps and reducing power to idle. I maintained both my heading and my altitude in fine fashion.

Dripping in sweat from my Incredible Hulk-like grip on the yoke, CFI Dola reaches over and applies the final bit of backpressure that makes N55212 stall.

Instead of releasing the backpressure on the yoke, Mr. 10 Feet Tall And Bullet-Proof here applied forward pressure on the yoke.

Hello, idiot boy. You're now pointing straight toward the ground and the windshield is full of nothing but trees and hillside some 2,000 feet below you.

"My controls!" Dola says, and she rights the ship quickly.

FAIL.

That's the only thought going through my mind. I use the minute of rest to keep myself from being frustrated, and then jump back into the whole teaching-learning thing. At $2 per minute, there is little time to sit and pout.

"Let's do another stall," Dola says. "You can do it."

Stall Number Three provides sweet, merciful redemption for the craptacular one before it. We set up just as before, and Dola reaches over to provide the final bit of backpressure needed to make N55212 stop flying. She noses over, I reach down and apply full throttle and reduce carb heat in one fluid motion, then take the flaps back to 20*.

Bingo. Success. I stayed on heading, maintained altitude, stalled the plane, and recovered it without filling the windshield full of trees and mountainside.

Thank you and goodnight. Tip your waiter on the way out.

Success is success, no matter how you paint it.

Another Morsel, But Not Really…

That bit about CFI Dola giving me more and more morsels en route to doing my first unassisted landing went exactly as it did on Friday. In short, I got us all the way to final approach, and was still about 50-100 feet high. With the winds whipping up...Dola wisely flew the last 30 seconds of the flight.

Pitch for altitude, power for speed. Pitch for altitude, power for speed. Pitch for altitude, power for speed.

The phrase "700 feet over the trees" is also ingrained in my brain now. In short…HTW sits at 568 feet above sea level. We have trees at both ends of the runway. In order to clear them (with room to spare), your altimeter needs to be at or above 700 feet MSL over the trees.

Literally covered in sweat from working hard in slow flight with a 92*F cockpit, I taxi N55212 back and rejoice in opening the door to get some air in there. I'm pooped. Done.

A few hours later, my shoulders were aching, I was having a dehydration headache, and just felt like crapola. I still had fun.

The soothing balm to all of this was with the temptation CFI Dola laid on me as I was headed to my car afterward. "Next time, we're going to start doing work on the [landing] pattern at Ashland (Boyd County, Kentucky Airport)."

"You will land this plane in the next two hours."

Oooohhhhh. Eeeeemmmmmm. Ggggeeeeeeee.

Keeping The Finance Manager Happy

My wife Jennifer and the JuliaK (again...pronounce it like the word maniac) were at the FBO upon our arrival back at HTW. I wanted to take Jennifer up for a quick spin around the pattern just so she could experience a little bit of what I'm working on.

"Hey, do you mind if just us girls go up?" Dola asks me in that way that sounds like a question but really isn't. If you know what I mean…

Greaaaaaat. Two women, both of whom know me on completely different levels, flying MY airplane, and I can't hear the conversation.

Sucker-boy here even paid $2 per minute for the privilege. 20 minutes later, I was $40 lighter.

Jennifer and CFI Dola took to the skies in N55212 on my nickel. Money well-spent…

But I was also $40 wiser. Jennifer finally got a taste of what I have been doing even if it was a condensed (highly) version. She didn't take the controls or do slow flight or anything like that. However, I think she appreciated what I was working toward; Jennifer said she was impressed with how Dola could fly the plane, make the radio calls, and still have time to describe what she was doing and why.

CFI Dola accomplished a difficult mission in just 20 minutes time.

That was $40 well spent, in my opinion. When momma's happy, everybody's happy.

Up Next: Vacation Rental CFI

We are heading down to North Myrtle Beach, SC on Friday for the first a few trips this summer. My family has two places in Cherry Grove (specifically), and we usually make 2-3 trips every summer. My retired parents stay down there from April through August. The JuliaK's third birthday is next week, too.

North Myrtle Beach Airport (CRE) is one the main reasons I am pursuing my pilot's license. I dream of the day I can fly us down there at will, cutting a 9 hour car drive (475 statute miles) down to a sub- 3 hour ride (330 nautical miles) in a Cessna 172. I can land at CRE and be at either vacation place in about 10 minutes.

So, I have emailed the manager at CRE about renting a 172 and a CFI for an hour or two while we're at the beach. My goal is to take my retired parents up for a ride, let them see the knowledge I've gained thus far. Secondly, I want to experience both patterns (left and right hand) at CRE and store the mental notes for later use.

Next week, 42andflying becomes 42andflyingatthebeach.

Radio Rock Star: Or, How I Stalled In Fabulous Fashion

95* heat is not to be laughed at. For those of you not paying attention to the Weather Channel this week, West-By-God-Virginia is under assault by the weather gods.

It was 95* today. Really, I'm not kidding.

The JuliaK checked out the left seat of N55212 moments after Daddy was on the ground. Note the sweat that 95*F produces on a high-energy-burning three year-old.

95* means that the winds whip up during the day. So…CFI Dola and I decided that 5:30pm would be better suited to flying than would 1pm. So, we set off in N55212 this afternoon with lots of water and Diet Coke on board, for 1.6 hours of stalling, radio-rock-star fun.

I am happy to report that I did not disappoint.

Today, the reigns were loosened somewhat by CFI Dola. I preflighted the plane all by my lonesome, and took great joy in the independence (and the great responsibility) of making sure N55212 was safe for the both of us to fly in today. After 15 minutes of inspection, I declared the plane to be as good as it has ever been.

Reigns Loosened

CFI Dola never hinted this would be a flight any different from the past, yet it was in so many ways. Comfortable with making the radio calls at untowered HTW (Lawrence County Airpark), Dola let it be known I would be making the radio calls to Huntington Tri-State (HTS) air traffic control (ATC) today during our flight. Remember the part about me being a radio star and the chicks digging what I have to say?

Today, I took it up a notch.

Me: Huntington Approach, Skyhawk 55212 is 3 miles northeast of Lawrence County, headed to the north practice area for maneuvers 6,000 feet and below.

HTS ATC: Skyhawk 55212, squawk 0138. Meaning…set the transponder code to 0138, which I did.

Me: Squawking 0138, Skyhawk 55212

HTS ATC: Skyhawk 55212, we have you 3 miles north of Lawrence County at 2,500 feet.

And with that, I became a rock and radio star faaaaaar beyond the local stage of Lawrence County Airpark. I became a bona fide player in this nation's air traffic control system. I became fluent in how to walk the walk and, most importantly, talk the talk.

Today, I became a student pilot. I'm not just a radio star and the chicks dig me for what I say. No…now I'm a radio star who has something substantial to say, so listen up.

Once in the practice area, CFI Dola taught me how to do stalls. Which may sound more dramatic than it really is…but really…it's a non-event in a Cessna 172. Specifically, we did power-on stalls, where you simulate doing a takeoff and being at full power, but put the plane in such a severe nose-up attitude that it simply stops flying. That's what a stall is, the refusal by the plane to keep flying.

N55212 has a very hard time with the whole not-flying thing, I must confess. It just wants to keep flying no matter how hard you try to make it stop flying.

Gingerly, we applied full power at 4,000 feet, and I applied more and more and more and more back pressure to the control yoke. With the nose pointing sky-high (literally), N55212 finally shuddered a little then "broke" into a stall. I recovered the plane somewhat, then continued flying.

CFI Dola then demonstrated a stall for me, and I realized I needed more back pressure on the yoke. So, I gradually applied more. Again…N55212 elegantly broke and nosed over; I released pressure from the yoke and -what do you know- we were flying again.

Really...it was a non-event but one that must be experienced regardless. The power-on stall simulates stalling the plane during takeoff. After going through this exercise, I can honestly say that I highly doubt I could get N55212 into a power-on stall during takeoff anytime soon. It takes tremendous pressure on the yoke and an insane amount of right rudder to make this specific plane stall.

To wit: I saw the airspeed indicator dip below 40 knots, never heard the stall horn go off, and still N55212 kept flying. Cessna 172s are just about impossible to upset, it appears.

With the temps now down around 90*, CFI Dola has me execute some steep turns, and I nail them to practical test standards. Ha ha ha ha ha , take that.

Pattern Work Begins

Without delay, we point N55212 back toward HTW and relax for the 5-10 minute ride. CFI Dola prompts me to contact HTS ATC, and the rock-radio star comes out once again.

Me: Huntington Approach, Skyhawk 55212 is headed back to Lawrence County.

HTS ATC: Skyhawk 55212, we have you 5 miles northeast of Lawrence County, report when you have the airport in sight.

Me: 55212 (affirming their transmission).

Now, the FUN begins. CFI Dola has gradually -some would even call it seamlessly- been preparing me for doing landings, and now she has me enter the pattern at HTW while also handling the radio duties. My multitasking is taken to a new level.

"Get below 1,500 feet and I'll hit you over the head with a stick," CFI Dola says.

"I'm right on 1,500 feet, thankyouverymuch," I reply. And, I was.

Me: Huntington Approach, Skyhawk 55212 has Lawrence County in sight.

HTS ATC: Skyhawk 55212, squawk 1200.

Me: 55212, thanks much and good day.

Now, the fun really begins. We do a complete upwind-crosswind-downwind-base-final approach to HTW runway 26. CFI Dola really piles on the multi-tasking on purpose, to see if I can handle the duties of landing N55212.

"Maintain 1,500 feet, make your radio calls, and don't go below 65 knots," Dola says. Wow, that's a lot to keep tabs on. I do it as best I can.

Lawrence County traffic, Skyhawk 55212 is on a left upwind for Runway two-six, Lawrence County.

65 knots…

Lawrence County traffic, Skyhawk 55212 is on a left crosswind for Runway two-six, Lawrence County.

63 knots…

Lawrence County traffic, Skyhawk 55212 is on a left downwind for Runway two-six, Lawrence County.

64 knots…

Lawrence County traffic, Skyhawk 55212 is on a left base for Runway two-six, Lawrence County.

60 knots…dammit.

Lawrence County traffic, Skyhawk 55212 is on a left final for Runway two-six, Lawrence County.

60 knots again. Can I get another 5 knots…please????

"My controls," CFI Dola says. Just 30 seconds out, and only 150 feet above field level at HTW, she took the controls back from me. "700 feet over the trees" echoed in my head, and I was about 50 feet higher than that. Sooooo close to doing a complete landing…yet so far away.

"You did absolutely everything I asked of you," Dola says. "Perfect."

I got just another taste, another bite, another morsel of this delicacy that private pilots refer to as a landing. Literally, I am about 30 seconds away.

CFI Dola is running out of morsels to tempt me with; A complete landing will occur in the next 2 hours of instruction time. It has to. The trail of morsels is running out, and the last one is within grasp. The taste is going to be VERY good, I predict.

Down on Runway 26, CFI Dola gives me back the controls and I whoa down N55212.

Me: Lawrence County traffic, Skyhawk 55212 is clear of the active runway, Lawrence County.

We taxi toward the parking area, and I see my wife Jennifer and the JuliaK (say it like the word maniac) waiting on me. We do the post-landing routine and I have one sentence for CFI Dola before shutting down the engine on 55212:

"You need to be prepared," I warn CFI Dola. "When I shut this engine down, the JuliaK is going to sprint over here faster than anything you've ever seen. She has speed to burn."

Engine off, and here she comes. In two seconds, Julia covers the 200+ feet between the FBO office and N55212.

"Daaaaaaaddy! I want to fly the plane."

My wife Jennifer and the JuliaK on the taxiway at HTW, with N55212 in the background.

Julia jumps up in N55212's left seat, puts on my Dave Clark headset, and proceeds to begin pushing every single button and lever within sight.

"Let's fly the plane, Daddy."

And in that one moment, all is right in this student pilot's world. I am a hero in her eyes, the daddy who can fly the plane.

I am ten feet tall and bullet proof.

Logbook:
• Pilot In Command: 9.7 hours
• Take-Offs: 4
• Landings: 2 (CFI 2 gave me credit for one)
• Confidence Level: Sufficiently stalled yet bullet-proof in JuliaK's eyes.

Weather, Schmeather

This past month has been the loopiest -weather wise- in quite some time here in West-By-God-Virginia. Especially for a student pilot (me) who is rip-roaring ready to rock at a moment's notice (and who also has a bunch of flight time pre-paid for).

Want to see the last 30+ days' weather for my area? Here it is:

Seemingly every day, this is the picture. Huntington is located on the "64" sign, middle-right of the photo, by the way.

Now, the good news. CFI Dola kept my spirits up (after our last lesson was cancelled due to 20kt gusting winds last Sunday) by telling me that I'm only about 2 hours away from doing landings. YIIIIIIPPPPPPEEEEEEE. Finally. We are going to practice stalls (both power-on and power-off) this weekend, then hopefully begin working on the landing pattern and actual landings.

Luuuuuucy, I'm hoooooooooome!

We will also be flying a 172 that I've wanted to fly since beginning this venture, N739YW. It just had a new interior put in and looks like a great bird to fly.

CFI Dola then went on to say that things will become really fun, really fast after that. She thinks I'll solo by about hour 15 or so. My guess is on hour 17, CFI Dola will hop out and cut me loose. Cross country flights, landing at HTS and its tower-controlled airspace, some under-the-hood IFR work. Basically…once the basics are finished in the next 2 hours, then the FUN begins.

We are set to fly on Friday AND on Sunday this week. I want to get to the fun stuff.

Pray to the weather gods for me, please?

Memorial Day Turn-A-Thon

Two weeks! That's how long it's been between lessons with CFI Dola. Bad weather (this May has been…let me be nice here…crappy in WV) meant that two weeks transpired between flights.

CFI Dola and I began this lesson, oddly enough, with a little conversation about attitudes (mine), frustration (mine) and how the whole CFI-Student thing works. In all honesty, I saw this one coming. The last time we flew together, I self-admittedly had a bad day. Steep turns weren't happening for me, and I let my frustration show to CFI Dola. We had to do a go-around on approach to HTW, and CFI Dola felt that I was fighting her on the controls a little.

Nevermind the fact that a skydiver was about 800 feet above us and descending, as we were at 300 feet AGL and ascending. I wasn't going to climb in to Mister Skydiver, yet I had to slowly ascend to get back in the pattern.

Our "discussion" ended with CFI Dola taking the ultimate argument-ender approach when it came to the subject of why you can't use your right hand to maneuver the plane at any time. I understand the reasoning and the fact you can't use your right hand to control the aircraft some of the time (like on landing, takeoff, etc.) but made the argument that things like steep turns at altitude would be better performed with my right hand on the yoke.

CFI Dola ended it with the classic "because I'm the instructor, that's why" argument-ender. I called it a chicken$hit move (instead of arguing the subject matter, she went for the power move to avoid possible defeat) and our discussion was over. She has her views, I have mine.

I promised to keep my right hand away from the yoke during the entire flight. And, I did.

Dola asked for a 80 knots climb up to 3,500 feet, and I really nailed the rate of climb on this one. Once up in the air, I brought us to 3,500 MSL and we began doing steep turns, once again. Muuuuch better this time around. I found myself concentrating more on the fine details of the maneuver this time around, and kept my altitude within 100' easily. Perhaps my Butt Gyro® is becoming more fine-tuned, but I tried one steep turn with two turns of upward trim dialed in, and one turn without that trim. No difference. I kept the altitude the same, regardless.

Next up was S-turns. Oh boy, now we're getting somewhere. My car-racing past really came to the forefront on this one, as putting a vehicle (or a plane) on a certain point at a certain attitude is my forte'. I take great pride in my control of whatever vehicle I am controlling, and now I could show CFI Dola my abilities. We chose a row of power lines as the line.

Once over the line, wings level, we would turn 180* left and level out once over the power lines again. Then, 180* right and wings level when over the power lines. All the while, we can't lose any more than 100 feet altitude (either up or down). Winds were 6-8kts at 350*, so I had an uphill climb every time I pointed toward 350*. However, I planned for it, compensated, and moved on to the next S-turn. My altitude gain/loss rarely exceeded 50 feet as we did S-turn after S-turn.

CFI Dola turns to me and says, "Okay, I'm very pleased in your ability to do an S-turn. We can stop if you're feeling tired."

"Nope."

I kept on doing S-turns, one after the other after the other after the other after the other. Probably 25-30 of them, just gracefully moving along the line of power lines. Altitude gain/loss was almost nonexistent. I just kept riding this groove I was in.

"Really, you can stop any time now," Dola said.

"Okay, just a few more."

Dola said she was very impressed with my turning skills now. HTS ATC calls us to tell us we have two aircraft in the vicinity. I immediately spot both of them (one up, one down) and Dola says, "You can see traffic unlike any other student I've had."

If there's one thing I have that works well at 42 years of age, it is my eyes. I make my living with them and take great pride in being able to see.

Dola and I head back to HTW and I nail the descent down to 2,000 feet, then to pattern altitude of 1,500 MSL (about 1,000 feet AGL). Dola compliments that, too. Seems I'm on a roll here.

I get us in the pattern at 1,500 feet, and all hell breaks loose. The skydivers are jumping out of the plane, another plane is in the pattern, and HTS ATC tells us there's more traffic up above. Dola says, "My controls. There's too much going on," and I'm now a passenger. I agree that there was a lot happening and no way I should be lining us up for final. Maybe next time.

Dola hits the best landing she's done with me on board, as a nice finish to an awesome lesson.

I taxi us in and we park the plane. I'm tired, but not so much I couldn't fire her back up and go again. In fact, I'd love to do just that.

What I'm Feeling This Week:

1. Things are really starting to come together for me as a student. I often read of other students and CFIs who say there will come a time when everything clicks. While I'm far from clicking per se, things are starting to come together now. I have no problem doing ground communications, and am looking forward to more radio work every time we fly. Dola gives me a little more to do, each time. I like being a radio star.

2. The sequence of our lessons is leading me right towards doing landings very, very soon. I've done slow flight, I've gotten us into the pattern at the correct altitude, I've got turns around a point (like when turning from downwind to base leg) down pat. I know the marks to hit during the landing process (1,500 feet entry, 1700rpm, 10* flaps, maintain 60-65 knots).
I can see this coming like you wouldn't believe.

3. Even after having our "discussion" before the flight, Dola praised my abilities to control the aircraft during our manuevers. I admit that I made a more concentrated effort this time around to do the things she asked of me (heading, altitude, airspeed, etc.) and it really paid off. I'm not concentrating any more or less…just concentrating better, with more focus.

"I have absolutely nothing to bring up," Dola says once we're on the ground in the de-brief. "You pretty much nailed everything I asked of you, today."

Wow.

"You know, you're going to be a very good pilot," Dola sums up.

I just stood there, and let it sink in for a moment.

Just two weeks ago, becoming a pilot was something I thought I could do.

Today, let there be no doubt it is something I will do.

Logbook:
• Pilot In Command: 8.1 hours
• Take-Offs: 4
• Landings: 2 (CFI 2 gave me credit for one)
• Confidence Level: High and doing S-turns like you wouldn't believe