This past Sunday's flight instruction was similar to my previous couple of lessons. I flew around the pattern taking off and landing. Both are essential skills, as is the ability to keep the plane on a relatively tight path and at a fixed altitude or rate of climb. Carving through the air isn't really like carving at all. The force of wind combines power, subtlety, and randomness. Imagine trying to slice up a batch of cotton candy into neat geometric shapes with your bare hands. It's one thing to point the plane in a particular direction, make it turn or go up and down. It's something quite different to do so with specific real number parameters for height, angle, position, and speed.
So we practiced, adding some special types of takeoff and landing: soft and short field. They are much like the names imply. A short field isn't as long as a standard runway and a soft field is basically the grass, if you're lucky. Skills at taking off and landing in the latter involve keeping the nose up as much as possible. A ditch can ruin your day as well as your nose gear.
My takeoffs, turns, and final approaches are all looking very good. My landings, however, still need some work. When the plane is very close to the ground, just before making contact, you need to pull back the yoke and pitch the plane up so it lands on its rear landing gear. Pitch too much and you go back up in the air. Pitch too little and you'll bust your front wheel or worse. So getting the correct flare is what I've been working on. It was quite windy this past Sunday so that made it even more difficult. Strangely, NASA has what I think is a very funny video about "The Flare."
Aside from being windy, it was also very busy. I don't normally hear the control tower speak in a casual manner. The few times I have remain in memory. This past weekend, the tower operator was telling one of the pilots landing that it had been much busier than usual. Lots of planes in the air. He wasn't kidding. I had to "hold short" at takeoff several times and wait for incoming traffic. Similarly, I had to queue up behind some other planes as they came in.
As I sat on the runway watching one of the larger jets land, I was hit gently with a sense of camaraderie. Sure, the jet was much bigger than I was and the pilot much more skilled. But he, like me, had to land. He had to bring the same game I did (well maybe more game) and get his speed correct, wings straight, and flare properly. Screwing up had potentially the same (ok worse) consequences for us both. Regardless, getting the bird on the ground was something I felt unite us both. Similarly, I was sitting in this tiny, mostly aluminum machine with my fligh instructor. We both watched anxiously as the other planes came in so it could be our turn. It wasn't just my turn, it was *our* turn. It was almost like this strange alternate universe type of baseball game where we all took our at bats, but were simultaneously on the same as well as different teams.
I wasn't necessarily aiming to nor do I really make it much of a priority. But there it was. I'm sure there were some women pilots up there too. Perhaps I should rephrase to something else. But I can't think of another more gender appropriate phrase so I'm just going to leave this like it is.
For a short while, before I did another one of my oscillatory landings, I felt like one of the boys.
So we practiced, adding some special types of takeoff and landing: soft and short field. They are much like the names imply. A short field isn't as long as a standard runway and a soft field is basically the grass, if you're lucky. Skills at taking off and landing in the latter involve keeping the nose up as much as possible. A ditch can ruin your day as well as your nose gear.
My takeoffs, turns, and final approaches are all looking very good. My landings, however, still need some work. When the plane is very close to the ground, just before making contact, you need to pull back the yoke and pitch the plane up so it lands on its rear landing gear. Pitch too much and you go back up in the air. Pitch too little and you'll bust your front wheel or worse. So getting the correct flare is what I've been working on. It was quite windy this past Sunday so that made it even more difficult. Strangely, NASA has what I think is a very funny video about "The Flare."
Aside from being windy, it was also very busy. I don't normally hear the control tower speak in a casual manner. The few times I have remain in memory. This past weekend, the tower operator was telling one of the pilots landing that it had been much busier than usual. Lots of planes in the air. He wasn't kidding. I had to "hold short" at takeoff several times and wait for incoming traffic. Similarly, I had to queue up behind some other planes as they came in.
As I sat on the runway watching one of the larger jets land, I was hit gently with a sense of camaraderie. Sure, the jet was much bigger than I was and the pilot much more skilled. But he, like me, had to land. He had to bring the same game I did (well maybe more game) and get his speed correct, wings straight, and flare properly. Screwing up had potentially the same (ok worse) consequences for us both. Regardless, getting the bird on the ground was something I felt unite us both. Similarly, I was sitting in this tiny, mostly aluminum machine with my fligh instructor. We both watched anxiously as the other planes came in so it could be our turn. It wasn't just my turn, it was *our* turn. It was almost like this strange alternate universe type of baseball game where we all took our at bats, but were simultaneously on the same as well as different teams.
I wasn't necessarily aiming to nor do I really make it much of a priority. But there it was. I'm sure there were some women pilots up there too. Perhaps I should rephrase to something else. But I can't think of another more gender appropriate phrase so I'm just going to leave this like it is.
For a short while, before I did another one of my oscillatory landings, I felt like one of the boys.
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