Given To Fly

Sono un pilota

2010-07-15T19:48:00.008-04:00

It's been a long time coming but has both thankfully and finally happened. I passed my private pilot check ride earlier today. It feels a bit anti-climactic to be honest. But the FAA examiner told me that is actually as it should be. Thankfully my flying was apparently quite good. I was told that too was "as it should be" with more than one hundred hours in the cockpit.

Truth be told, my first landing at KLKU was one of the finest I have ever made.

This entire process has been an amazing learning experience on so many levels. The ever nagging imperatives to study, prepare, and practice (while illuminating) have led to some unfortunate side effects. Isn't it odd how even doing things we love can sometimes become a chore? For the past several months there has been a persistent voice in my head always quick to remind, "You shouldn't ____ because you should be studying instead!" A frequent fill in for that blank has been posting on this blog.

It will be so wonderfully refreshing to continue learning without the looming imperatives. In the meantime you can call me "Captain Cool" because that is an accurate description of how I feel.

The Speed of Time

2010-03-27T00:51:00.024-04:00

It feels both trivial and impossible to talk about time without some mention of paradox. Science fiction movies have been eternally milking the subject down to the last tachyon. In my particular case, I find myself often trapped in a temporal loop of perpetually preparing for my private pilot checkride. I do think, however, that there's light at the end of this particular runway. All the CFI's I've been flying with keep telling me I'm ready, to which I reply that I still haven't even reviewed the textbook material ... and the cycle repeats.

For reasons that I can't completely fathom, my ability to sit and read the material from a textbook has all but vanished. Instead I've been trying to enlist the support of 21st century technologies in order to help me learn a bit more interactively. Either that or I just really, really, really like using Paypal. I've now purchased an entire private pilot's video course (King Schools), all the Gleim textbooks as well as their written test software, Dauntless Software's checkride prep software and just this morning both an e- and audio book series reviewing all the material for the checkride. I was surprised at how well the latter went along with driving six hours from VA to NJ.

Some of it is finally starting to sink in. I'm also enjoying the multiple facets of flight once again. The data set is pretty well defined and the topics of weather, aerodynamics, FAA regulations and the rest are starting to carve out permanent niches in my synaptic pathways.

It's amazing to think how long I've been at this. Yet if I take a step back and look at the process it doesn't really surprise me that it unfolded somewhat differently than I may have initially envisioned. This was, after all, a bit of a new adventure for me. It seems to make sense now that I have more than 100hrs in the cockpit (the minimum is 40). Taking the slow road to the sky has and continues to involve learning other things about both aviation and myself.

Plane ownership is a door I didn't even expect, let alone one that I would have anticipated opening for me. It's been extremely rewarding. I genuinely enjoy keeping the plane in good shape. This past week I had a secondary GPS device installed that receives satellite weather. It's a bit of a different world when you "hitch a ride" with some other pilots dropping off another plane at the same shop. Despite calling shotgun, I sat in the back seat as Shane and Tom flew an older (1959) Piper Apache over to KLKU for some check ups by the excellent crew at Meridian Air.

Flight remains magical. A currently popular comedian, Louis CK, had some wonderful perspectives on flying during an interview with former Late Night host Conan O'Brien. I had the treat of being able to reflect similarly last week while flying on an absolutely perfect, calm, warm Spring day. When not preoccupied with scanning instruments or properly implementing a maneuver with the correct combination of control technique, flying is nothing short of sublime.

I shot the following clip on my way back to Charlottesville (in the foreground) while coming back from what we call "the Southeast practice area."

I can't help but wonder what it must be like to do it at ten times my current velocity. Ok, that might be a slight exaggeration. I think these military trainers only fly at about five or six times my Cessna's maximum speed.

In any case, I hope the learning process for jet engine certification won't take me proportionately as long.

The Flock of Red, White ... and Blue

2010-03-04T22:56:00.007-05:00

Celebrity if nothing else sometimes forces us to think. Exactly what we might be inspired to think about is of course totally subjective. But every so often the rarity intrinsic to fame itself can lead our thoughts to coalesce and focus. Today was that kind of day for me.

I've been trying to get on the flight schedule at least twice per week these days. If I'm lucky that means I get to fly once per week. This week I was very lucky, especially today. The windwas particularly strong this afternoon gusting to 20 kts. That's a bit too blustery for me to fly solo in. But it was perfect for me to practice crosswind technique with an instructor. Lately I relish the opportunity to practice flying in tricky situations. It both helps condition me against panic and improves my ability as a pilot on many levels.

Before going up this afternoon my instructor (Fax) pointed out that we had a famous guest visiting the airport. A very large Boeing 757 was doing touch-and-go's around the runway. What's so famous about a 757? Well there's one particular jet of this line that's about as famous as you can get. It was Air Force Two! Apparently they come down here to CHO to practice every so often.

It was a majestic site to see such a large aircraft going around the traffic pattern. It also posed an additional challenge for me: wake turbulence. All the better. Practice is good and more practice is even better. Plus I felt privileged to be chasing and following Mr. Vice President's private plane.

It was a bouncy practice session. There's basically no way to be graceful when mother nature is tossing you around like a feather. But it's reassuring to know that you can actually fly in windy conditions. I'm learning that the trick is not to worry so much about which way the plane is pointed at any given moment. Easier said (mind) than done (nerves).

Wrestling with the wind proved somewhat exhausting. So after a big lunch and some strong coffee I went about the rest of my day; the back of my mind processing my flight instruction this morning, and over the last couple of weeks. There has been a distinctly "American" theme lately. In all likelihood, CHO's proximity to several air bases is the main reason I've been seeing so many military aircraft. Yet, I've been flying for more than a year and I can safely say that I've seen more in the past couple of weeks than ever before.

I've been flying with a few different instructors lately too. So I'm feeling very much like an adolescent child in some type of ancient tribe preparing for a rite of passage. As I think more on this notion of "tribe" it occurs to me that this is a special one indeed. I would even go so far as to say it's a distinctly American one. We did after all invent flight and thanks to our European cousins starting WWII we refined it to an amazingly fine point likely undreamed of by our ancestors.

I've waxed on about my national pride before. Too bad it's somewhat of a sensitive subject these days. I do not bear blind allegiance to the flag. Like some, I'm keenly aware of our shortcomings, vices, even our sins. It often makes me uncomfortable that I spend more money each month on cable internet (or flight lessons) than some families in the world do on food for a year. In some sense the dream for me is that one day those with good fortune can and will share it with everyone else.

I love the notion of the global village. People talk about the transcendent experience of viewing earth from space. There's even an institute dedicated to the idea. But like it or not we haven't gotten there yet. Nationhood seems to both consistently and regularly stand in the way of a planetary family.

So until then I take some joy in being part of a somewhat smaller tribe. Or more appropriately perhaps I should say a flock.

I managed to get my iPhone out just as these geese flew overhead the other day. Let's hope they bring warmer weather in their wake.

The boss may not always be right ...

2010-02-16T20:24:00.002-05:00

But she's still the boss.

A video is worth a thousand pictures.

Slowdown Snowdown

2010-02-11T23:44:00.005-05:00

The holy grail of my quest to become a private pilot remains elusive. Like much of the East Coast lately, I have been simply trudging along with little help from mother nature. Before the holidays I managed to pass my written exam. Yay me. But preparation for the subsequent check ride (road test) has been equally slow going. Regardless, I celebrated by visiting some friends in Belgium and ringing in the New Year in Amsterdam, something everyone should do at least once.

Due to weather and holiday plans I ended up not flying for over a month. Trying to fly solo afterwards proved an unpleasant experience. It feels as though I've slipped back a bit in terms of raw piloting technique. My landings remain quite polished. But the other skills, however, feel and look quite rusty. So I've been flying with Dick Yates, the owner of CFC and senior CFI. He's had many useful tips. Last time we flew, practicing slow flight, I managed to fly the plane at an astonishingly snail-paced ground speed of 20kts!

Besides the drudgery of reading and reviewing manuals that explain in detail every precise component of various maneuvers ... the weather has been extremely uncooperative the last couple of months. Virginia has seen record snowfall this Winter. While I'm enjoying finally having a fourth season here in the South, the local infrastructure is somewhat ill equipped to handle this much frozen precipitation. Plus, flying in the snow is a no-no.

Today was one of those special days where the snow and ice start to melt enough so that you can actually see entire road surfaces, driveways and sidewalks. Sadly, the winds were too strong for me to practice even with an instructor. I'm not sure if mother nature is mocking or teasing me, perhaps a little of both.

On the bright side, I am getting lots of good experience. My patience, however, is pretty much gone in terms of actually becoming a private pilot. Although it's not like I'd actually be flying anywhere right now. Just the same, I'm anxious to wrap things up. Once I do get my certificate, however, I'll be much more experienced than your average newly minted PIC. Both Dick and Shane claim I'm ready to take my check ride right now. My feeling is a bit different. I want to feel a sense of mastery over the plane not just a high level of proficiency.

Ahh. Nothing like a blog to get your whine on. I've said it before and I'll say it again, "It's tough being a white man."

Stalled...

2009-12-03T22:44:00.003-05:00

From the ubiquitous Wikipedia: a stall is a condition in aerodynamics and aviation where the angle of attack increases beyond a certain point such that the lift begins to decrease.

A crucial element to the discussion of a stall, however, is velocity. Technically speaking, it's somewhat less of a consideration, but since I've decided to stretch this analogy to the breaking point I'll continue to quote ubiquity:

Stalls depend only on angle of attack, not airspeed. Because a correlation with airspeed exists, however, a "stall speed" is usually used in practice. It is the speed below which the airplane cannot create enough lift to sustain the weight in 1g flight. In steady, level flight (1g), the faster an airplane goes, the less angle of attack it needs to hold the airplane up (i.e. to produce lift equal to weight). As the airplane slows down, it needs to increase angle of attack to create the same lift (equal to weight). As the speed slows further, at some point the angle of attack will be equal to the critical (stall) angle of attack. This speed is called the "stall speed". The angle of attack cannot be increased to get more lift at this point and so slowing below the stall speed will result in a descent. And so, airspeed is often used as an indirect indicator of approaching stall conditions. The stall speed will vary depending on the airplane's weight and configuration (flap setting, etc.).

How apt. No matter how you slice it, literally, I'm stalled. Preparing for my written exam has been an extremely powerful gumption sedative that's lasted for the past several months. I've gone on and on about some of the reasons why in previous posts. If nothing else the experience has instilled a renewed appreciation for pedagogy.

I started out flying with my original instructor, Regan. We had a nice rhythm to our lessons. He'd suggest a section in my video course to watch and chapters in the corresponding textbook to read, then we'd fly those lessons. Sadly, Regan left town over one year ago. Since then I've had a few other instructors which really threw the watch, read, and fly cycle off. Don't get me wrong, I've had very good teachers all the way through. But in order to retain the vast amount of information that makes up the basics of flying an airplane, much like any discipline, there needs to be reinforcement.

My brain has been throwing a temper tantrum for a while now at having to basically re-learn such a large quantity of material. So rather than study, here I am posting, whining and complaining about it. Unlike actually flying, I can pause, bitch and moan. If I'm not mistaken, this is my first official blog post as such. But consider that small quote with which I began this entry. Now imagine hundreds upon hundreds of pages of similarly crafted prose.

Ok, I'm gonna go hold my breath now until I'm blue in the face.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard ...

2009-10-15T19:42:00.015-04:00

Boy how time flies. Seriously. I can't believe I haven't opened a blog entry with that line yet.

Making time to hit the books and review a year's worth of material for my private pilot written exam remains a challenge. Part of the problem is that the video course I've been using, made by King schools, really isn't my cup of tea. It's a decent product but appeals more to the masses than someone technically oriented. Unfortunately, I've been using it for more than a year.

Thankfully, a fellow by the name of Irvin N. Gleim has an entire line of books and courses which are exactly what I've been looking for. Sadly, it's still a ton of information to review. Given that my first exposure was back during the Bush administration, my brain often struggles to recall distant memories. That being said, I could probably pass the test right now. But I'd rather have a mastery of the subject and not take any chances either on the day of my test or any other day up in the air.

A couple of weeks ago, I took "one zero alpha" up to NJ to celebrate my mom's birthday. It was a fantastic trip from start to finish. Sadly since I don't yet have my license,I hired a friend to actually fly the plane with me as an unofficial co-pilot. Even before we left,things seemed to fall into place. I won the headset I had bid for on eBay. It shipped and arrived on time. The Garmin GPS 496 unit (with XM satellite weather) arrived with plenty of time to get reasonably familiar with using it. The weather, speaking of which, was threatening to cancel our plans. But after much discussion the day before and morning of, off we went.

I've never flown such a long distance in a four seat airplane. The novelty seemed to shift perspective somewhat into the sublime. I mean, having your own private airplane is a level of freedom that's difficult to explain. If I can ever actually get a license to fly, I hope to explain more of it to many people first hand. The undercurrent of natural fear (we were after all in a glorified 2,000lb aluminum tub 8,000 feet up in the sky) and disbelief that we were actually flying on our own to a destination of our choice ... combined like a sweet and sour mix in my soul.

I guess I'll have to forgo some of the details of the flight. Or perhaps add them later. Daniel did a fine job getting us safely to Somerset NJ (KSMQ). The weather was lovely here in VA but got a bit dicey farther north. I got to experience several new aspects of flight first hand. I was blown away at how well the plane's autopilot works. You really can fly the thing by doing little more than twisting some knobs and pressing some buttons. Yet, I also saw how Air Traffic Control (ATC) can vector you all over the place when flying an IFR (instrument flight rules) flight plan. We started out heading towards the Chesapeake Bay, then got routed West of Philadelphia. This zig zagging continued much of the trip along with several denied requests to fly above (as opposed to through) the clouds. The latter makes for a bit of a bumpy, blind ride. I have to give a small plug for the Garmin GPS 496. It was fantastic. The whole flight up we were able to track any semblance of problem weather ... and avoid it.

The flight home was picture perfect. I can't wait to do it again soon.

That will have to do for now. I have several hours of study left ahead for the evening. I'll close with a link to photos from the flight. Click the picture below and it will redirect you to the Picasa web album. Laura did a great job taking pictures during both flights. I hope you'll agree these are some great shots of the Chesapeake, Virginia ... and clouds. Enjoy.

Oh and fasten your seat belts, please.

Beauty and the Beast

2009-09-27T17:57:00.022-04:00

It was a gorgeous Fall day here in central Virginia, 70 degrees, crisp and sunny with a gentle breeze. This was such a stark contrast to the dreary rain of yesterday. I was concerned last night as I've been trying very hard to fly at least twice per week as I wrap up my flight training and focus more on preparing for my written test. It's important to keep those chops current. Novice Jedi magic grows weak if you don't practice regularly. Bad weather would have been an annoying monkey wrench.

The lovely sunshine and puffy clouds took some time to make their appearance today. So I rescheduled my flight twice, from 11am to noon then finally to 2pm. At around 1pm the weather seemed near ideal. As usual, I checked the weather for CHO and surrounding airports. Nothing serious was on the horizon. I was really looking forward to flying on such a spectacular day.

After making my ritual pit stop at the nearby Autozone for touch up paint and bug remover (I keep my plane as clean as possible) I proceeded happily up to the airport. When I arrived, I checked the weather again. Winds were 270 at 6. That means they were blowing from a compass heading of 270 degrees (West) at 6 knots. This isn't completely calm but within my ability. So I proceeded to taxi out to the runway still very excited to fly.

Pilots use several memory tricks to help keep the massive amount of information correct, and quickly at hand. Right before taking off I remind myself of a few key things to check with the phrase, "Lights, camera, action!" The action of course is the application of full throttle. So down the runway I went, properly compensating for the crosswind component of the breeze. The sun was shining. The puffy white clouds were smiling down upon me. The blue sky above appeared to be basking it its own deep beauty.

No sooner did my wheels leave the safety of sweet mother earth when a gust of wind made its presence known. "Holy shit!" a little voice inside my head erupted. "Ok, calm down." another voice replied. It's not uncommon for there to be some bumps on takeoff. Then the control tower announced, "Winds 270 at 12." "Holy shit!" again. They had doubled in strength and were having lots of fun bouncing my plane all over the place, making full use of all three axes. I called the tower to let them know it was too windy and I was coming down.

Facing the specter of death is sometimes like being cut very quickly by a razor sharp knife or pierced by an infinitely small, yet incredibly powerful, laser. It happens in a flash but like it or not you're now bleeding profusely. The blood in this case is adrenaline. Clearly, it's a reflex reaction my monkey brain has inherited from millions of years of evolution. Generally, I'm sure it works well to keep me alive and encourage me to avoid doing foolish things. But up in the air, in a cockpit where you can't just step out, pull over, or press pause, it serves little purpose. In fact it can become a lethal enemy. So today I became quite proficient at (among other things) putting that little voice back it its box very, very quickly. It, however, appeared to retain occasional control (ie., shaking) of my left leg.

My first landing attempt was a bust. With full 30 degrees of flaps I wasn't able to get the plane down due to the headwind component. Things were way too bouncy for me to try and really force the nose over and land in an unusual attitude, likely with far too much speed. Even worse, I was having a very tough time keeping the plane lined up over the runway as the wind was winning the little tug of war over which lateral direction I was moving. So I called the tower and told them I was going around to set up for another attempt. When in doubt, go around. No shame in that. But man, I really wanted out of that plane.

As all this was happening, I overheard another pilot up in the air struggling with the same issue. He had already tried several times to land. In fact, I saw him try to land while I was taxiing. He was still at it. Granted, his plane was smaller and much more difficult to maneuver in wind than mine. But the fact that he was asking for weather information at nearby airports elevated my level of concern. If that weren't enough, the tower then announced, "Wind 280 at 14, gusting to 20. "Holy frrrrreaking shit!."

A useful motto in flying is, "Do it different." Basically, since my first landing attempt didn't work, I needed to try something different. So I set up the plane a bit West of the runway. In case my efforts to compensate for crosswind were insufficient, I'd at least be blown in the right direction. That part of the plan worked. But once again, I wasn't able to get the plane down to an acceptable altitude in time. So I went around again.

This time *I* asked for wind information at nearby Lousia (LKU) airport. I really didn't want to fly out there and risk whatever turbulence lay between but I needed to consider the options. Winds were 230 at 3 out at LKU. Ok, I thought, if I can't get down on this attempt I'd need to head over there. It would be a pain but it would be much safer in theory. LKU, however, uses an automated weather system. There's no control tower. So the wind that had just picked up might have very well decided to follow me like a giant, deadly, puppy rottweiler. Worse still, I may not have found out about it on the radio until after it actually arrived giving it ample time to bite me in the ass.

Besides, I wanted to land. I really wanted to land. In fact, I don't think I've ever wanted to land so badly in my entire life. I wanted to park the plane and run to a nearby bar for a drink. I wanted to go home. I wanted to GET ON THE GROUND right now.

So I bucked up. It's not like I have absolutely no practice or knowledge of what to do in this kind of situation. I decided I'd only use 20 degrees of flaps, which would give me less lift. It worked. I was finally coming down. The VASI lights indicated a proper approach. That sounds all fine and well except that the wind was continuing to play with me, trying to make me wet my pants or worse. I fought back with as much crosswind correction as I could muster. But it's not easy landing a plane tilted sideways 20 degrees. Nor is it very ... um ... comforting.

The runway passed beneath, I entered ground effect and the plane did its normal float. I had to fish a bit for the flare, but finally managed to get the plane on the ground without breaking anything on the aircraft or myself. Insert a big sigh of relief right here. Funny, even hours later, I can still recall the feeling of that 1/10000th of a second of terror. How potent a moment.

Charlottesville remains such an ideal place to learn to fly. The manned control tower, wind socks, real time weather updates, VASI lights, long, relatively wide runway, and perhaps a dozen other things all made my experience today that much less threatening. I suspect they also made it much more safe.

My wrestling match with mother nature lately has mainly been with rain, clouds and storms. It's been a long time since wind alone was even an issue. Well, lesson learned. Wind is far more dangerous and frightening particularly when you don't see it. On such a gorgeous day looks can definitely be deceiving.

Time for that drink now...

Precious Metal

2009-09-08T08:55:00.013-04:00

Scheduling flight time with mother nature remains a challenge. Lately, I've been trying to complete my solo cross-country aeronautical experience requirement with very little luck. Last week the plane was in the shop for an extended service. This past Sunday the weather was too iffy. Today the weather is downright miserable. I'm hoping for a break in the clouds later on or hopefully tomorrow, but I'm not holding my breath.

Being a fan of efficiency, I try to use flight downtime for other things. Last night I had lots of fun creating some nicely (if I say so myself) marked up maps. Hopefully I'll get to use them soon. On Sunday the weather was good enough for me to practice takeoffs and landings at a nearby air field (KLKU - Louisa County). That same airport hosted an air show the previous day (Saturday) where among other things, the flight center sold plane and helicopter rides. Here's some video from the event. Aside from the helicopter and beautifully restored bi-plane, can you spot any other familiar flying machines?

When I'm not doing ground school or some other land-based aviation related activity I enjoy cleaning and fixing various bits and pieces of the aircraft. It's a never ending process as I also try to upgrade components that I can afford to improve. So it's also a fascinating (and difficult) exercise in self restraint.

My particular plane has an avionics device called a multi function display. Specifically, it has a KMD-550. Simply put, it allows other avionics equipment to display information in a clear, bright, easily accessible format (ie., GPS map data, weather info, traffic, etc...). Since I've owned the plane it's been missing a knob on the unit. The road to replace this little round piece of metal has been both surprisingly long and expensive. The knob itself isn't very different from one you'd find on a car radio. Yet, it costs $85 and requires two very tiny set screws for an addition $8 ea. Those screws, in turn, required the purchase of a special spline wrench. It's taken me months to get everything ordered and purchased. I finally got the knob installed this weekend and broke my fancy new wrench in the process. The metal was either forged incorrectly or is just plain cheap. Stay tuned for an update.

Just to give a sense of scale I took a picture of the screws (and the wrench ... before it snapped in the line of duty). At $8 each they must be some of most expensive little pieces of metal in the world (pound for pound).

Avionics jewelry anyone?

The Tao of Plane

2009-09-02T01:17:00.016-04:00

From a Chinese folk tale about an old man called Sai:

"One day his horse ran away. His neighbours commiserated with him over his misfortune, but Sai said “How do you know this is not really good luck?”. A few days later the horse returned, bringing another horse with it. His neighbours congratulated him on his good luck, the old man said “How do you know this is really good luck?” Some while later Sai’s son while riding the horse falls and breaks his leg. This in turn was good fortune because when all the men of the village are ordered to join the Emperor’s army. Sai’s son doesn’t have to go since he has a broken leg."

I try to keep that old proverb in my head these days. As I come up on the one year anniversary of my first test flight, and consequently the marker of how long I've been at this particular project, I can't help but feel the weight of time. Lately it seems as though the effects of weather, scheduling, and most recently mechanical failure frequently conspire against my will and desire to get a private pilot's license. Ironically also about a year ago, I fell off my bike (horse) and broke my hand.

But seemingly failed attempts at progress provide other opportunities to channel energy in other directions, right?

This past weekend I was very excited to complete my long solo cross country flight requirement by flying a solo circuit from Charlottesville to Lynchburg to Farmville and then back to Charlottesville. It was only a week prior that I finally completed my night flying requirement by making a round trip to Richmond. So it was starting to feel like I was on a roll. I had all my charts ready and even bought a used color printer to format them perfectly for my knee board.

Sadly, one of the flight instructors called me on Saturday morning to inform me that my plane had been stranded in Manassas. The starter had apparently given out. It happens. He planned on having someone "prop start" the plane and fly it back on Monday for its scheduled 100 hour maintenance. I was a bit discouraged at not being able to fly Sunday, but I knew going in that this business had a heavy random component. So I sucked it up.

Then I got another call on Monday from Dick, the owner of the flight school, telling me that the starter had damaged the flywheel and that my plane would be up in Manassas a bit longer. It would also cost more to get her fixed. My inner child began to jump up and down in a temper tantrum ... but only for a few moments.

Recently, I've become an active member of The Cessna Pilot's Society. This past weekend I started a thread on how to refinish my dash "eyebrow." The responses and replies I received have been invaluable. One of the members actually posted asking what my verdict was finally. Here's a snip from my reply:

"Drumroll...........
and the verdict is" -BP

"Well, my plane's starter just ate my flywheel ... so this project is going to have to get put on hold. Just when I was gonna have some $$$ in the kiddie. Seems like either DYI or getting the leather wrapped option are the best ones. No need to go new it seems. Thanks for all the replies, they are invaluable." -DT

"We welcomed you to this small society, and now by this you are initiated to aircraft ownership." -DM

"How to tell you're having fun in aviation: You're writting checks.
The more checks you write, the more fun you're having." -TM

As a result of all of the above, I've finally had the chance to catch up on my video coursework which I had been falling behind in. Once I finish my flight requirements, I have a written test to take. Even when I'm done with the coursework I still have quite a bit to review. Much as I hate to admit it, not being able to fly the last week provided me a unique opportunity to get down to other business. I now know lots more about microbursts, fog, turbulence, thunderstorms, icing, flying at night, and how to use my plane's GPS device.

Here's some eye candy which will hopefully make up for my lack of posts over the last few weeks.

This is a Soviet military trainer. Sadly, I haven't been able to find the make and model (it's late). Interesting and different take on aircraft design. The landing gear seem a bit more delicate, but also longer and potentially more versatile than some US designs I've seen.

If you look closely, you can see the hammer and sickle on the front cowl. If I didn't have so much respect for Russian engineering, as well as have a Russian friend bring me real vodka recently, I'd be afraid. Ok, maybe not. But I do remember a time when that symbol was loaded with much more frightening meaning.

The Eclipse 500 sits at the opposite end of the spectrum. In a sense, it represents a pinnacle of US capitalism. Not only in terms of its price, performance, and luxury but also due to the fact that production was halted in mid 2008 as the company filed for chapter 11. I wonder if any GM execs flew to DC in one?

It's a small jet but very sleek and elegant. With a cruise speed of over 400mph it is in my opinion one of the most perfect personal transportation vehicles. If I had a few million dollars to spare, I'd grab one in a second.

Last but not least, here's some footage of Charlottesville at night from the air. We had some extra time flying back from Richmond so Shane took the controls for a minute as I snapped the following:

As they say, onward and upward. The cycle of fortune continues to turn and I get to continue practicing my chops at Tao.

Bright Lights, Not So Big City ...

2009-08-05T00:08:00.008-04:00

The mountains of my childhood were giant, man-made, glimmering structures that were lit all day by the sun and all night by various flavors of electricity. The Manhattan skyline is still a thing to behold. I think many people love dusk and watching how as the sunlight dwindles, darkness rises and luminosity is redefined. Things don't look quite the same as light begins a different dance. They say the majority of our brain is devoted to processing visual input, so it's perhaps no coincidence that the daily cycle can at times hold a magical fascination.

I finally managed to spend a Sunday afternoon with N5210A (aka, the plane) gluing down various loose panel stripping, cleaning bits and pieces, and generally making sweet sweaty love in a strictly platonic, engineering kind of way. Machines are happier when well cared for. Ever notice how your car feels faster after you wax it or change the oil?

So after a long hot day of twisting my back, arms and fingers into odd positions, I did a quick polish up then realized I had some daylight left. There wasn't enough time to fly anywhere in particular. But I am a big fan of practice making perfect, especially landings. So as the sun sank beneath the mountains, I called my CFI and got approval to do a few runs around the block. The sky was gorgeous as nature put on her evening night gown.

Here's some video taken while flying around the airport. You can see Charlottesville in the distance shortly after takeoff then the rising moon pass by. A clear veiw of 29N follows snaking its way towards DC. As I come around to land, Chris Greene lake passes beneath and the pretty lights of runway 21 lead me, billboard style, home.

Lights are pretty even when they're not part of a big city.

Guess what?

2009-07-21T23:45:00.004-04:00

Flying continues to go well. I've been very busy with some secret side projects related to flying and aviation. Sadly, it's a bit too late right now to go into any detail about them. The following photo should speak somewhat for itself.

The private pilot's license is getting closer and closer. Currently, I'm logging instructor based "cross country" time. That's basically any flight longer than 50 miles. Today we flew from Charlottesville to Lynchburg and back. Lots to learn about charting, setting checkpoints on a map, using visual queues, radio navigation, and "dead reckoning." Interesting Wikipedia read on that term by the way. I did pretty well for my first time implementing several of the techniques.

Soon, I'll be logging my own cross country flights. I was fortunate today to get as close as legally possible to some cloud formations. I've always enjoyed flying among the clouds on commercial airlines. I didn't anticipate how magical it would be to do so in my own flying machine. Clouds feel as though they are very real yet angelic airborne life forms. Like whales, they float along in graceful silence wondering why we humans fuss about so many things in our world. Their beauty so powerful that it demonstrates instantly and precisely, the utter lack or need whatsoever to prove any point or have any agenda.

Yes, we can take lessons from them. Right now, however, I have more a mundane curriculum to attend to so that I can spend more time soaring among the white angels of the air.

Back to the rub...

2009-06-21T17:15:00.019-04:00

Flying in a plane alone for the first time like any other "life first" will remain an unforgettable experience. I think I've been background processing it for a while. When Shane initially informed me that I'd be soloing soon, I found myself carrying around a profound sense of excitement for days and days. Then, when the day actually came, I found myself getting a bit nervous. The perils of flying alone, without anyone to answer various questions about correct procedure and/or bail you out of you have a random muscle spasm with the flight controls, seemed to become all the more ominous once reality added its voice.

In order to even make an attempt, I needed to be cleared with another CFI (certified flight instructor) first. Dick Yates, the owner of the flight school, took me up and had me execute a few procedures. All went relatively smoothly. The winds were a bit squirrelly so he suggested I come back later in the day to make the actual flight.

That evening, Shane went back up with me to ensure I had the right stuff at that particular moment. Unfortunately, my first few landings were somewhat less than graceful. After three bouncy touchdowns he told me I had one final chance or else we'd have to try another day. I dug deep and brought out my A game, nailed a perfect landing, then dropped Shane off at the flight school, gave him my video camera, and proceeded to nail three more perfect takeoffs and landings. I don't think I've felt quite so cool since riding a bicycle without training wheels for the first time. As I few around the pattern, mother nature flexed her muscles with storms in the distance that seemed constantly threatening to ground me and thwart the effort. Thankfully the fates were kind and I snuck in under the radar, literally.

My subsequent lessons have involved getting cleared to solo beyond the confines of CHO airport. It's taken some practice to navigate flying to, finding, and safely landing at nearby Orange (OMH) and Lousia (KLU) airfields. But practice does make better, if not always perfect.

Today was to be my first flight solo from beginning to end. I'll confess I had a healthy combination of excitement and trepidation at taking up the plane on my own and flying around by my self. Nonetheless, I checked the weather this afternoon to see if it was kosher enough for me to fly in terms of cloud height, wind, and visibility. The METARS forecast seemed just fine. But when I got up to the flight school, the actual weather on the ground was a completely different story. The winds were way too strong for me to go it alone. So Shane volunteered to do some takeoffs and landings with me, practicing crosswind techniques. Easier said than done. It was pretty windy and bouncy today. So I struggled to keep things coordinated and elegant. Actually, forget elegant.

So I'm back in the thick of it trying to move up to the next level and be able to fly alone, safely, eventually getting ready to take my practical standards test for my private pilot's license. My next flight will be solo, start to finish. I hope mother nature cooperates.

There have been many beautiful planes parked on the ramp over the past few weeks. Similarly, the skies have been relatively clear and uniquely Virginia pretty. Flying remains a magical discipline for me. I've been spending more time with the books as well to combine my practice with the logical explanations for why everything does what it does and why we have the rules we have up in the sky. This time of year seems to have no shortage of white puffy clouds to keep me company.

Last week, there was a vintage WWII dive bomber parked in front of the flight school: an SBD Dauntless. It is one of two remaining in existence that still fly. Aviation grew by some of its greatest leaps and bounds as a direct result of WWII. Those leaps helped win the war. Combined with the USA's ability to rapidly produce aircraft and quickly innovate designs (I'm partial to the term Yankee Ingenuity) they also successfully insulated us all from having to learn Japanese and/or German as a native tongue.

Sometimes as I've pondered my occasional wrestling with the airplane, wind and weather I've often wondered what it must have been like dealing with all these things using fifty year old technology trying to hit a target in the air or on the ground (as this plane did) all the while with people shooting at you from above and below. As I'm learning, sometimes when you're dealt a rough hand up in the air you just have to deal with it, using everything you've got. I humbly salute all the brave men who brought their A (and I would guess B and C games too) to the task day after day and got the job done.

Solo landing video

2009-06-10T19:29:00.005-04:00

Took me a while to polish this up. Shane was kind enough to shoot the video from the ramp, but it can be tough to do w/o a tripod. I also sped up certain sections to reduce viewer fatigue. If you listen really closely you can hear the "chirp" of the wheels as I touch down.

I figured I'd upload this sooner than later then prattle on about the experience afterward.

O Sole Mio...

2009-06-09T00:53:00.014-04:00

More to come later. My first solo flight was both a success and a completely amazing experience. Until then, this will have to be a quick post ... because something needs to be posted. The tradition after a first solo flight is to cut out the pilot's shirt worn and have it signed by the flight instructor:

I chose my t-shirt carefully this morning.
It used to be my favorite on European vacations.

Me with the rest on the cork board at CFC.

My first solo takeoff (cleaned up a bit).

I'd upload more, but that first video above took forever to process. It will have to suffice for now. Phase one complete. I have flown a plane, solo. Specifically, I took off and landed three times. When Shane stepped out of the plane initially I felt a surge of adrenaline. Odd when you're in a plane alone for the first time. On my second takeoff, however, I took a peak around and thought to myself, "Very cool, you're flying!"

Very cool indeed.

Wisdom of the ages ...

2009-06-07T23:29:00.010-04:00

The push to solo continues. My latest project was getting an FAA medical exam, after which you receive a ticket that eventually becomes your license. So it's an important rite of passage on several levels. Like an American Express card, you can neither leave home nor solo fly without it. Not every doctor performs the exam so CFC gave me a list to choose from. As a result I had the honor of meeting Dr. Robert Soll last week. He was a lovely older gentleman who I could see right away had a keen, observant mind. As I stepped out of my car he asked me what kind it was. I told him it was a Saab. He then proceeded to tell me about the three or four Saabs he had owned over the years, one of which was one of the first cars to employ "free wheeling." At the same time, his current Chevy Lumina (with about 250,000 miles) was the best car he'd ever owned. I suggested he write in to GM as they might be needing stories like that right about now.

I should take a step back for a moment. There were two reasons I chose Dr. Soll. One was that he was able to see me the earliest. The other was that he (Dr. Soll) was on the way home from a somewhat unexpected trip I needed to make up to New Jersey last week. My old friend, Ray Ashley, lost his multi year battle with cancer on Thursday. Ray was an amazing individual. Apparently he had a very bad reaction to some experimental treatment from which his body was unable to recover. The entire experience of driving up North, picking up another old friend Jim, then riding together to Ray's wake offered potent time and opportunity to reflect. Ray was one year older than I am. He was very full of life and extremely smart. It never occurs to us that death comes for people like that. Or at least it's easy to forget that it does.

When we walked into the room with Ray's body (the family had chosen an open casket) I whispered to my friend Jim, "Are we in the right room?" I honestly didn't recognize the man in the casket. It was in fact, however, Ray. The treatments had definitely taken their toll. To see an old friend of your own age in the prime of life like that is sobering to say the least. I'm sure it will take me quite some time to fully process it.

My heart and mind were undoubtedly primed for meeting Dr. Soll in several ways. I couldn't help but feel like somebody was trying to tell me something. Precisely what I'm not sure. There seemed to be an air of ghosts of Christmas past, present and future blowing about the funeral home and the central Virginia back roads to Dr. Soll's house.

In any event, the medical exam proceeded more or less normally. Some local bar mates here in town warned me that I'd need a prostate exam and to chose a doctor with small hands. It's become a source of good bar stool humor. Naturally within ten minutes of meeting Dr. Soll I took a good long look at his fingers. They were huge, which made me increasingly nervous. Thankfully, it seems as though a prostate exam isn't required any longer for a class 3 license. So I dodged the bullet, literally.

My heart, nerves, eyes and reflexes are all in good shape. The exam itself took about forty five minutes. But my meeting with Dr. Soll lasted a couple of hours. He was, quite simply put, a very wise physician with both educational and interesting stories to tell. I respected his intuitive knowledge of how the body works and appreciated his advice on things like food allergies, cancer, piloting tips, and how to lose a couple of pounds. His wisdom, unlike much of what I experience these days in the medical field, was very analog. No CAT scans or MRIs here. Even his eye testing machine lacked any digital technology. For a moment, I felt like I was in a Norman Rockwell painting. The wisdom and experience he had to offer seemed that much more powerful somehow.

I'm the first to extol the virtues of digital technology and technology in general. But I guess what underlies any of that is a common sense of how things work and type of elegance in understanding old and building new things ... at least for me. If that involves CAD programs, great. If it makes use of nothing more than a hammer and chisel, that's great too.

So it wasn't necessarily the lack of high tech gadgets that made my Davey sense tingle. It was more the fact that it was tingling nonetheless. You see I've had more than my fair share of experience with doctors. As a result I've developed a keen ability to sense their problem solving and communication skills quite rapidly. Perhaps it's not just doctors. It may very well just be my heart and mind paying attention to other hearts and minds, both seeing and admiring those who seem to have a talent for observing the world, solving some of it's problems, and doing so all out of a genuine fascination of it all.

They say old people and children are quite alike. If by that they mean old folks regain a healthy sense of raw wonder about the world then I guess birthdays really are something to look forward to.

The grey and the blue ... and more

2009-05-21T22:35:00.015-04:00

I've written before about weather having an effect on flying. I mean, duh, of course. But aside from the obvious, there are seemingly an infinite number of more subtle effects the weather can have on being up in the air. The effect may very well be more on the psyche than anything else. No matter how you describe it, there seems to be something ... more.

Last Sunday was a dreary, cloudy, misty, and rainy one. Surely, I thought, mother nature was messing with me again and I wouldn't be able to fly. Fortunately, however, the clouds were up at around 8000 ft and the rain was light. It was just at the edge of being too windy but I was able to fly regardless. I flew from Charlottesville out to Orange and then out to Lousia. The last two are smaller air fields about 10-15 minutes away by plane. I hadn't flown in a while so my chops were a wee bit rusty. The wind trying to blow me off course didn't help either. But all in all I managed to get the job done. My many years of playing video games seems to have left me with exceptional map reading skills, so finding the airports wasn't so bad. Figuring out what approach pattern to use and set up for scrambled my brain a bit as the process isn't quite intuitive to me, yet. Runways are numbered after their 360 degree coordinates on a compass, rounded up to the nearest tenth. For some odd reason, I had a bit of trouble putting together the direction of the runway I needed to use as well as remembering what runways were available. I really need a knee board to help out with logistics like that.

While out at Orange I had the good fortune to stumble upon a bunch of parachute jumpers. They announce on the public frequency a countdown to when they're going to jump. Just as I landed, they all did. I looked up and saw about a dozen chutes opening ... pretty amazing. Made me wish, however, that I had a paintball gun mounted on top of my plane so I could go sky hunting. The guys looked like they really knew what they were doing as they came down at steep angles using airfoil parachutes, landing exactly on spot. Shane told me they have massive parties out at their hangar. I responded asking if we really needed to fly back so soon?

My landings overall weren't stellar at either airport. Part of this was due to my semi rusty chops and the rest was a hefty crosswind that seemed determined to make my life difficult.

Sunday's lesson stood in stark contrast to this past Tuesday's. It was a picture perfect day and I had made up my mind to really bring my A game, even preparing a bit with some book time beforehand. Well, the fates aligned and it made for a spectacular lesson. We took off from CHO and headed to the Northeast practice area where I recovered from a few stalls and executed some steep angle turns. This is where those more subtle aspects of weather on flight start to come in ... maybe not just weather perhaps ... praxis might be a better term.

Steep angle turns in the past have been somewhat of a challenge for me. Turning the plane at 45 degrees presents a number of issues. First of all, 45 degrees is half way between level and 90 degrees. So in a small sense there is a feeling of "falling over" down into the center of the turn. Similarly, that steep a bank angle generates more noticeable g forces on your body. Keeping your eyes outside the plane while rapidly glancing at your controls can be a bit disorienting as a result.

Well, I had no such problems this past Tuesday. In fact, I was able to really enjoy making the plane do what I wanted it to do. I now have the internal sense and knowledge that no, the plane isn't going to roll over and fall out of the sky. Nor are the g forces a problem for me any longer. In fact, they're a bonus prize when the maneuver is executed correctly. There's something about leaning the plane heavy into a turn. It's more of an angle. It's more of a turn. It's more cowbell. It's just ... more.

So as I was doing ... more ... so was mother nature. The sun was starting to go down in the sky. Shadows were getting longer. The green of Spring was reflecting a particularly unique shade, with just the tiniest hints of blue, red and purple. The sky was a deep blue that only the sky can be. You might say that mid Spring is the result of nature practicing her craft. Things start out new and fresh then get the refinements of rain, sun and time. It's fun doing ... more ... with mother nature. She makes an excellent practice partner when she's in a good mood.

After our turns and fun, I came back to CHO for some landings. First was almost perfect. So was the second. Then, for fun, as I came in for my third landing Shane cut the engine power on me. "Now what are you gonna do?" The idea of course was to simulate engine failure. I had read up on what to do and was feeling my A game coming on. As I got very near the runway, Shane told me I could use engine power if I needed it. I responded, "I don't need it." and had another almost perfect landing. I'm so cool.

The moral of the story, it would seem, is that flying on warm, bright, sunny Spring days with clear blue skies is much more rewarding than on days with clouds, rain, chill and wind. I guess it's true what my friend Leeroy from Nashville says. I'm just a damn blue bastard.

News from the front ...

2009-05-12T07:24:00.005-04:00

It seems somehow both ironic and appropriate to post an update to a blog about learning to fly from an airport lobby while waiting for a commercial flight. My plane last night from EWR to CLT was delayed past the departure time of my final connection from CLT to CHO. So I spent another night home with family eating tasty Italian food, discussing the state of air travel, the economy, and cannoli price inflation. Sometimes dinner with the family can be a good time to complain and discuss a very wide range of subjects. It's a bonding experience.

In reality, I don't have much to complain about. Apparently, CLT was down to one incoming runway last night. So there were likely dozens and dozens of inbound flights delayed. When I stop and think about the hundreds (thousands?) of flights coming in and out of that airport alone every day and how they need to be coordinated on both ends (ie., the departure airports) so that the timing is within 10 or 15 minutes ... it's amazing we all get anywhere at all.

But having nothing in reality to gripe about doesn't mean you can't gripe. Practice does after all make perfect.

I studied routing and shortest path algorithms as an undergrad learning computer science. There is a definite art to the task. People with the particular talent are compensated quite well by phone companies, GPS navigation manufactures, and generally anyone who needs to figure out the quickest way to get a bunch of marbles from one place on a random , poorly laid out, spider web to another. Given that air travel not only has to plan those routes but also allow for random, unexpected monkey wrenches, all without any human error causing one "guy" on the path from hitting another "guy" I start to become even a bit awestruck at the massively, elegantly coreographed ballet.

Reminders of the aviation industry pockmarked much of my trip home this past weekend. While parking on the rooftop lot at Hackensack Medical Center I couldn't help but notice all the planes landing into Teterborough airport nearby. Talk about tight quaters. I think the tallest building near CHO ... well ... there actually aren't any tall buildings anywhere near CHO just famrs. Charlie, one of the instructors at CFC used to fly into Teterborough regularly. He cautioned me not to get my hopes up of using it as a regular destination for weekend visits. It apparently gets quite crowded.

Similarly, as I went test driving a new Volvo with my mom we drove right by the General Aviation facility at the same airport. There are clearly some Jersey boys with quite a bit of cash. The place ia very hip and posh looking, more like a country club, with lots of sexy planes parked outside.

Lastly, or perhaps firstly, I couldn't help but pay even more attention to what the pilot was doing on my inbound flight, especially landing. I felt (and heard) the flaps come on very much like they do in my little Cessna. I could also sense him slip the plane into the crosswind which was an issue coming into EWR on Sunday. The bumps on the way down didn't phase me at all. I could swear there was a time they did.

Given the delays and other various snags, I remain impressed with what commercial aviation has been able to accomplish. I remain, however, even more excited about being able to come and go more as I please even if at a bit slower velocity and without neatly dressed svelt blondes to serve me ginger ale. But wait, come to think of it, there were neither blondes, anyone svelt, nor even any female stewardesses on any of my inbound flights. I didn't even get to sit next to any hot coeds or prospective runway models being recruited from the South by NYC modelling agencies. Even as I look around me now, most of the people waiting for this flight are businessmen in suits. Perhaps it's just my luck.

I guess both flavors of air travel have their pros and cons. A little voice in the back of my head is telling me being able to pilot my own flights will have some clear advantages. Yet, that same voice is hoping for some svelt blondes on the flight home today. I mean, don't they factor that into the cost of the ticket? I think many of these businessmen around me would gladly pay a premium. Yes, I know, President Obama should hire me as a economic consultant on how to help stimulate the economy.

The calm after the storm ... followed by more storms ...

2009-05-09T13:09:00.006-04:00

If you live anywhere East of the Mississippi there is one word you've likely become all too familiar with this past week: rain. Everyone I know is making references to Noah, his ark, and where to line up to get on board. We've had an epic amount of rainfall this past week. While I'm sure it's good for the plants, it isn't quite as helpful for my learning to fly.

My last lesson, however, was a great one. As I drove up the little twisty road to the airport, I was met by an ominous thunder storm. Great, I thought. Mother nature is literally rubbing my nose it in. But since the storm was technically a bit off in the distance I thought I might be able to do some pattern work as it hopefully passed South of the airport.

No such luck.

We sat in the flight school classroom listening to thunder and watching lightning. Another student was there apparently going over some IFR rules with another instructor, Tom. Shane and Tom decided to start asking us both questions about storms. At some point, I do actually have to study some weather science in order to get my license. They asked, "What things do you need in order to have a storm?" The other student answered, "Moisture?" I could only think of one reply, being somewhat miffed about my luck with weather. So I added, "A scheduled flight lesson?"

But after the storm passsed, as Shane predicted, the air was amazingly calm. We took off as soon as the rain was a safe distance away. I nailed four perfect landings and one so-so touchdown. The calm air definitely made it easier. But it's also quite possible that I'm starting to get the hang of it.

The very next day, the monsoons resumed. They've been here ever since with brief periods of sunshine, which by the way seem that much more glorious now that they're somewhat rare. Once Spring settles into more of a groove I should be able to get more hours in.

Ironically, I have an upcoming trip planned to visit family in New Jersey. This is the second trip (Easter being the first) for which a private pilot's license would have been perfect. Alas, I'm not there yet. Patience, or lack thereof, is starting to have a rash like effect on my inner child. My hope is that during the coming weeks I will have a laxative like relentlessness and make the final huge push towards a solo flight.

I'd attach some pics, but the things I just found on Google were quite disturbing, even to me.

Zeno's paradox ...

2009-04-24T16:56:00.036-04:00

The ancient Greek philosopher, Zeno, postulated a set of paradoxes that were formulated in part to show that various aspects of perceived reality were (are) an illusion. A paticularly famous one deals with motion and how it is fundamentally impossible. The paradox goes something like this. If I shoot an arrow at you, it must first travel half the distance between my bow and your head (say 100 feet). Then it must travel half the remaining distance (50 feet), then half the distance remaining again (25 feet), so on into infinity (12.5ft, 6.125ft, etc.). Since there are an infinite number of distances (or steps) for the arrow to traverse, it can never really get to where it's headed.

I tried using this argument to get out of a speeding ticket once. It didn't work.

Flying is very much like Zeno's distance paradox for me these days. I'm trying very hard to get hours in but progress is slow. Mother nature in the Spring is fickle. She often thwarts my attempts to get up in the air. Similarly, time is seemingly always tight and making time for my written work often proves scarce. I'm in the home stretch towards my first solo flight. It very often feels like I have a never ending series of infinitely divisible steps to complete. Even worse, when I don't fly, those steps become larger than simply half the previous distance. Variable coefficient exponential functions can be a real pain in the neck particularly when they apply to life.

Ok, well, that's basically it. If you can't complain about stuff on your own blog, then what's the use.

My last lesson with Tom was great. I had three "acceptable" landings and one "greaser." I think I'm starting to get the hang of it. My problems lie in the last few seconds before touchdown. Getting that flare just right and keeping the plane at the correct speed and orientation are still proving a bit of a challenge.

Spring here in Charlottesville has been powerfully beautiful this year. So when I do get to fly there are added dimensions of fresh new air above and budding plant life below. Here are some random shots and videos from the runway as well as one from the hold short line while waiting for incoming traffic to land.

My faithful Cessna 172 SP after some rain.
It was about 65 degrees and the air smelled of dew, even on the runway.

Jet powering down.
Sounds like a Sheperd tone.
Makes sense if you think of what's inside a jet engine.

Jet landing in front of me as I wait to take off.
Cute little thing. Wish I could land like that.

There were a ton of jets taking off and landing that day. Felt like a convention. Gave me a case of "jet envy." Maybe one day I can fly one of these ... and maybe one day I can drive one of these ... and maybe, just maybe, one day she will come to her senses and marry me. Infinite distances indeed.

Slippin' flarin' crabbin' and starin'

2009-04-12T23:16:00.024-04:00

Flying continues to be more than just a hobby. Much like flight itself, there's a minimum velocity one much maintain to resist the pull of gravity. I've been trying to fly at least twice per week ever since the return of daylight savings time. But despite my best efforts last week I was grounded three times due to bad weather. Mother nature continues to toy with me.

My past few lessons have been with a different instructor, Tom, while Shane is away on vacation in Ireland. Once again I've had to adapt to the subtleties of a different teaching style as well as the finer points of flying. To be honest, it's nice to have seen multiple perspectives on the art. I've flown with five different instructors now. Who knows, I may just start rotating to keep things interesting.

Initially Tom and I worked again on pattern flying, trying to get my landings down correctly. Unfortunately the weather during our first flight together was quite windy which makes things hard for an experienced pilot, exponentially more so for one in training. So our second lesson together involved practicing "slipping" the plane. This is where you keep the plane pointed along a straight ground reference point (eg., a highway ... or runway) even though there's a crosswind blowing you sideways. Normally, the easiest thing to do in this situation is let the plan "crab" or simply point into the wind and fly in a sideways fashion with respect to the ground. Slipping on the other hand involves tilting wings of the plane so it literally slips through the wind. In this orientation you can ignore evil little ball (who is quite pissed off by the way as you're doing all sorts of horrible things aerodynamically). Tom likes to fly fast. So we did this maneuver at close to the maximum operating speed for the plane (140mph). I practiced following route 250E by keeping it in between my legs as I flew. Keeping the plane in such an unfamiliar orientation (at least for me) made it even more important to keep my eyes outside the cockpit. So speeding up my quick glances at the instruments was a side exercise. Before I knew it, Richmond was close enough for me to reach out and touch in what felt like just a few minutes. Very, very cool. That's part of the magic I've been shooting for.

The drill was designed to help me learn to make the plane do want regardless of what the wind is doing. Shane has been saying that to me forever. You can either fly efficiently, yet somewhat strangely (ie., crabbing) or fly very inefficiently yet seemingly correct (ie., slipping). Ironically, in a cloud the reverse is true. Crabbing feels normal and slipping very much not so, since there are no visual refernece points to indicate the plane's orientation with respect to the earth's two dimensional surface.

Well, Tom's practice drill seems to have worked. My final landing attempt of the day was a good one. I finally manged to land the plane both gently and in a straight line with a perfect flare. I'm sure I'll have to practice it again and again, but it's nice to know my motor coordination is there, at least in theory. Actually, it's more than just motor coordination. Besides the physical technique of putting the controls in the correct position, there's a very zen technique of looking down the end of the runway once you're flying over it. Using peripheral vision, you can see the side lines and gauge how high off the ground you are.

I've been focusing so much on trying to fly and flaring in particular that I've fallen behind in my written work. I have a twenty page take home test full of questions I need to know the answers to before I can fly my first solo flight. Are hobbies supposed to involve so much work?

Flying in the Spring, while challenging due to weather, is lovely here in Central Virginia. Pre flight inspections are my "quiet time" with the plane and the runway. I snapped some pictures of one particularly important step in that process, checking the fuel.

On the Cessna 172 SP I fly now, there are five separate fuel drains under the wing that must be bled into a cup and checked for color, water and debris. If all is well, the fuel is a pretty blue color and you can just pour it back in. The view from above the plane isn't something most people see, but it's important to check that everything is still in order up there too.

Since I've neither posted in a while nor even brought my camera to the last couple of flight lessons, I found myself somewhat snap happy this last time. Plus, I've just recently bought some rechargeable batteries. My Canon A590 seems to enjoy eating them like candy.

Charlottesville Airport is a beautiful spot, located near the Blue Ridge Mountains just on the outskirts of town. I've always enjoyed the area. When I was new to town, I'd often ride my first motorcycle up to the airport and enjoy the mountain views while planes took off an landed. The buildings are also interesting architecturally, most of them being very light, open airy spaces. Undoubtedly, having large windows facing West into sunsets and mountain views has something to do with this. It's interesting to see how the interior design is somehow seemingly influenced by the exterior beauty in which it constantly basks.

Come to think of it, planes seem to reflect this aesthetic design phenomenon as well.

The rub that never ends ...

2009-03-26T00:26:00.022-04:00

The more I learn about flying, the more I see how much there is still yet to learn. At almost every given point and with each new lesson, the potentially grim specter of fate seems to shadow any and all knowledge. Fate and its cousin gravity really don't care if you're flying straight and level or spiraling to your death. They will implement the same laws of physics and chance regardless. Performing even the most simple of tasks correctly or incorrectly can mean the difference between life and death. It's both ironic and shocking to think that flying is still the safest way to travel.

My past several lessons have all involved flying the pattern around Charlottesville airport. Shane is trying very hard to drill all the things necessary to take off and land into my head, and even a little deeper. They really do need to become second nature. Several weeks ago, I had an abysmal lesson where I showed up an hour late thinking I had reserved the plane at the wrong time. That led to a cascade of failure. The notion of "getting behind the plane"' is very real. So if your mental state yields a higher likelihood of some error, rest assured that will trigger like a domino another factor to move out of alignment and before you know it you're in trouble.

After resolving to never show up late for a lesson, as well as no longer fly during lunchtime, I've begun to focus 100% on takeoffs and landings, mainly the latter. My last few lessons have been a bit of a struggle. But with each one I've learned and manage to keep some new hardfought wisdom. Sometimes they've been small things like getting the plane level once I fly over the runway numbers on final approach. Other times they're a bit more complicated like the coordinated smooth rollout from level flight into the infamous "flare" and holding that orientiation to a gentle touchdown, all the while keeping the plane centered on the runway.

Today I think I finally nailed them all. The holes in my technique have more or less been filled, they may still need some sanding, but still I managed pretty well on my last (ninth) attempt of the day. I'd say there are dozens of little things that need to happen correctly simply in taking off, going around, and landing again at the airport. All of these should require little or no thought. Control should be done in small increments and the plane should basically be encouraged to fly itself at every step of the way. Of course, you're setting it up to fly in a particular manner via trim, power, and various other controls. But the idea remains ... this fine razors edge that is both highly complicated and ultimately simple.

So I keep flying the pattern, mainly because I enjoy flying. But I keep doing it over and over so that I can do it as safely as possible. On a side note, I've decided to start flying the newer Cessna 172 SP Skyhawk. The tighter controls which I once felt were a hindrance I now find as a blessing. Aside from the plane being much more balanced and stable, the taught yoke and pedals encourage a more deliberate input. They also seem to help prevent my tendency to overcompensate and end up fighting myself (in addition to all the other factors) for control of the aircraft. Tighter controls encourage and allow smaller, finer, more precise feel. The plane also has fancy GPS and other bells and whistles that will come in handy when I actually start renting it to go places on the weekends.

The penalty for failure is very real. I had the chance to see a very old example of this over the weekend. The following are some pictures of the wreckage of Piedmont Flight 349 which crashed into the side of Bucks Elbow Mountain just outside of Crozet back in 1959, ironically on the very night Barrack's Road Shopping Center held its grand opening event. It's a strenuous and interesting hike. Not very well marked and steep, it ends at a beautiful outcrop which is near the wreckage which while not being beautiful per se, makes you stop, pause, and think about a number of things.

It's sobering to say the least that this is the site where twenty five people lost their lives, even though it was forty years ago. Bits of debris of various sizes are still scattered about everywhere.

The largest piece seems to be the central wing section. You can see what I think are landing gear struts rusting away. The airframe is turned upside down.

Any time I see wreckage, hear about a plane crash, or even sometimes when I'm on a commercial flight myself, I wonder what went through people's minds when they realized this was the end. Perhaps they never did and it all stopped suddenly and painlessly. I hope so. But even though we're all aware of this dire possibility we continue to fly. We step onto planes signing an invisible contract of sorts, hoping the engineers, mechanics, and pilots are all well trained and have done their best to defend us against the odds which are completely unaware of our desire to live. I think many passengers may never even think so deeply about it and just hope and assume everything will go smoothly, as it often does. But the reason it does is because so many people have worked very, very, hard over the years on an inconceivably large number of problems, designs and techniques ... that we get to just sit back and enjoy our beverage and peanuts. Like most things human, this speaks to both our astonishing capacity to imagine and invent as well as our tendency to become complacent and ignore, perhaps even take for granted, the magic that lies about us virtually everywhere in our world. I'm not talking about things like fairies and nymphs. I'm talking about things like cell phones and computers ... and airplanes.

Yeah, so I obviously took a few extra "let's get up on a soapbox and preach pills" this morning. It happens.

Winter's Breath ...

2009-03-06T12:27:00.012-05:00

When old man winter exhales he creates a number of issues for flying, some good and some not so good. We had a significant amount of snow fall the night before last here in Charlottesville. So my misfortune of last week was made up for this past Tuesday during another lunchtime lesson. As usual, I'm reminded to be careful what I wish for.

There's an airstrip nearby in Louisa, VA which has no control tower. It's a great place to improve radio chops since you still need to call out information during each leg of "pattern" flying. But since fewer people are listening, it's harder to make a public idiot out of yourself. I'm guessing the reduced mic fright helps when learning to speak on the radio. It's also good experience in watching for pilots who may not be broadcasting any location information at all, yet still might be deciding to land at the same time and place.

The snow on the ground was starting to evaporate causing all sorts of temperature differentials in the air. This combined with the natural blustery tendency of early March in Virginia created some very windy conditions. Both Shane and Dick, the owner of the flight school, felt it would be good experience for me. While I didn't have any physical hurdles crop up with the bumps, I have to say I got some healthy doses of adrenaline trying to keep the plane under control, especially during takeoff and landing.

All in all it was a rewarding lesson. I've never landed anywhere else but Charlottesville (as a pilot) before and the scenery along the way was beautiful. I managed to shoot some video of the flight back. I've sped up the mid section of the film so it's only a few minutes long. The trip actually took about fifteen. The clip unfortunately doesn't do proper justice to the snow covered hilltops. But you do get a sense of the view (and some of the bumps) at various points, particularly the hills near Cville. Snowfall converts the landscape into a black and white panorama accentuating contrasts, ground contours and features. The effect of crosswind is quite evident as are my attempts to compensate for it on takeoff as the plane rolls left and right while still relatively (uncomfortably?) close to the ground.

Never forget that Buddhist proverb.

She's a tease ...

2009-03-01T11:24:00.007-05:00

Even on a normal day the view from my cockpit rarely fails to impress. Seeing the land, trees, farms, rolling hills, mountains, clouds and sunlight playing against the weather features offers a wonderful shift in perspective to say the least. Mother nature can be a very talented artist. She definitely flexed her creative muscle this past Fall with huge brushstrokes of yellow, red and orange across the ground.

I've heard stories of what is allegedly one of the most beautiful times to fly, immediately after a snowfall. Well, it snowed here in Charlottesville last night. I woke up this morning pretty excited by the timing. The ground was perfectly dusted white and the town has been temporarily transformed into a winter wonderland. I had grand visions of what it'd be like to fly above the hills and see the white covered ground speckled with trees, buildings and other terrestrial features.

But no, mother nature is a tease. METARs weather shows:

Conditions at: KCHO (CHARLOTTESVILLE, VA, US) observed 1553 UTC 01 March 2009
Temperature: 0.0°C (32°F)
Dewpoint: -0.6°C (31°F) [RH = 96%]
Pressure (altimeter): 30.04 inches Hg (1017.4 mb)
[Sea-level pressure: 1017.5 mb]
Winds: from the NNE (20 degrees) at 7 MPH (6 knots; 3.1 m/s)
Visibility: 1.50 miles (2.41 km)
Ceiling: 800 feet AGL
Clouds: overcast cloud deck at 800 feet AGL
Weather: BR (mist)

I need at least 3 miles of visibility and a 1500 foot ceiling. Mist isn't so great either. So currently, Charlottesville airport is operating under IFR (instrument flight rules). No VFR (visual flight rules) pilots are able to take off or land at the moment. If I had an IR (instrument rating), however, I'd be able to fly. That's approximately fifty more hours of flight time after I get my regular private license. Days like today add fuel to my desire to get the IR, no matter how long it takes.

I remember as a kid sometimes standing at the back door looking out saying, "Rain rain, go away. Little David want to play." It didn't seem to work then either.

What goes up, must come down ... gently.

2009-02-26T18:28:00.033-05:00

I snuck in a flight lesson today at lunchtime. Time constraints often force me to speed out to the airport at somewhat higher than posted velocities. The trip sometimes acts like a "motion sensor." As I exploit my car's taught suspension on the twisty roads, my stomach and inner ear give me a sense of how they're doing. Thankfully they felt ready for action this afternoon.

Shane mixed things up a bit today. We practiced constant speed climbs, descents and steep angle turns. I find tilting the wings to 45 degrees to be a delicate operation. For me, the physical orientation still takes some getting used to. The more the wings deviate from straight and level flight, the less lift they generate. I sometimes wish I didn't know that. So after mid way (ie., 45 degrees) you start to notice the effect as you lose altitude. Wing roll tends to have a momentum to it so it's very easy to overshoot and get yourself almost perpendicular to the ground. Not nearly as fun as it sounds. Over compensating for that tendency (at least for me) can prevent you from successfully executing the maneuver. Gentle moves are key. The lateral acceleration generated by too rapid a change in control input can result in some noticeable g forces. Trust me, being at the controls of your very own roller coaster is a double edged sword. After a few attempts I finally managed a few decent 360 degree steep angle turns. They're lots of fun when you finally get them right.

Then we practiced landing. For reasons I still don't quite understand, I simply didn't have the magic today. Shane contends I'm still not totally clear on radio jargon and my brain is spending time thinking about that rather than actually flying the plane. Getting an aircraft down in a controlled and precise manner involves coordinating several tasks in rapid succession. Altitude needs to be exact as do speed and rate of decent. Flaps need to be engaged at the right time. Position in the pattern must be observed. While all this is happening, there's ultimately that (little) strip of asphalt you need to hit properly at the correct velocity.

We had to abort my first attempt as I came in on final approach way too high. I even botched the recovery by accidentally taking out all my flaps (extensions to the wing that provide extra lift) at once. On my second pass I came in too high again and had to make a rapid descent resulting in some unwanted up and down oscillation before actually touching down. My last attempt was even worse as I came very close to smacking the plane down pretty hard onto the runway which would have seriously bent the landing gear and put a significant dent in my wallet for repairs.

Oh well. I at least feel I learned from these mistakes. I'm going to make some cheat sheets for all my maneuvers, rather than try to execute them from memory and whatever bits of common sense I feel apply. It was a beautiful day to fly and I view part of the struggle today as due to my being more seriously tested on some of the real aspects of flying.

One of my New Year's resolutions is to sharpen my rhetorical skills on the virtues of aerospace and its benefit to humanity. As I walked out to inspect my plane before flying, I passed a concrete (or perhaps I should say mostly aluminum) example.

I think we sometimes take for granted the fact that things like helicopters (and planes) come to people's rescue, often in life threatening emergencies. Take a close look. Even on the surface, this is not a simple piece of machinery. How in the world did we ever figure out how to make one? What a wonderful application of technology, saving human life. The chopper above is dedicated to the task ... so are its pilot and crew.

Then of course there are the somewhat less noble, but to me no less glamorous applications. This jet was parked right outside the flight school and I couldn't help drool over being so close to it. I mean, the thing can probably fly at more than 500 mph. DaVinci and the ancients would look upon it as nothing short of magical. The engineering legacies that jet airplanes sit atop are extreme and profound. Being near machines like this makes them real in ways only being up close and next to them can, much like being in the same room with a person does, speaking face to face. When we normally take a commercial jet we don't get to walk around it and admire the sleek lines. Sometimes we don't see them from the outside at all. So, for your viewing pleasure, here's some "up skirting" of an Express Jet Embraer 145.

"Hey Baby ..."

"Come here often?"

"You're a tall one."

"Nice butt."

Clearly, my rhetoric still needs some work.

Using the force ...

2009-02-24T00:15:00.012-05:00

The wind is apparently a very common problem for pilots in central Virginia this time of year. I'm learning this first hand. My past few attempts to fly were unsuccessful due to high wind. Thankfully, I'm becoming somewhat relentless about my scheduling. So even though I wasn't able to fly this past Sunday, I tried today and will again on Wednesday. Hopefully mother nature will respect my tenacity.

My previous lesson, however, was both interesting an unexpected. Shane and I first spent some classroom time going over my progress with the computerized course material. I have software installed on my home computers that shows me videos, gives me tests, and tracks my progress. If you get a question wrong it automatically calls up the corresponding video. What I didn't know, however, was that Shane is able to see all my mistakes. Big Brother is clearly watching.

He was somewhat new to the specific system, so we were mainly just syncing up in terms of what I had been learning via the system and what we've been doing up in the air. Every so often he'd mention that we'd be getting "under the hood" today. I thought to myself, great! I love working on cars and machines. It would be awesome to get my grease monkey groove on with an airplane engine.

Silly me. In aviation terminology a "hood" is a device that limits your vision to only the instruments. It's mainly used to get an IR (instrument rating) but I'm also required to get two or three hours of hooded flying even with my basic license.

So up we went over to the practice area. On went the hood. I felt very much like Luke Skywalker on the Millenium Falcon practicing against the training remote. At first it was a bit disorienting. But then I found myself flying the plane somewhat intuitively using only the instruments. Who says video game skills don't come in handy? We practiced climbs, descents, turns to a specific heading, and combinations of both. I executed the maneuvers almost flawlessly. Yay me. I rule. Even Shane was impressed. He confided that "the hood" is one of those moments that can make or break a new pilot. Seems like I've got the right stuff.

We were having lots of fun so ended up doing a few practice turns around a point and s turns after the hood work then headed home. Then of course the wind picked up. Turning the plane is much harder when the wind is trying to coerce the airframe in an entirely different direction.

As we hit various patches of turbulence, I found myself struggling somewhat to keep coordinated slow flight, altitude in particular. I came in a bit high on final approach so we had to make a pretty quick and steep descent. That's not such a huge problem. But when you finally level out to prevent nose piling into the runway Newtonian physics plays nasty games with your inner ear. At least it did for mine.

Hubris, like training remotes, often dishes out swift reminders.

Warmin' the bench ...

2009-02-08T16:24:00.034-05:00

I was a good boy last night. Didn't drink too much and got plenty of sleep. I even showed up on time to flight school. Unfortunately the winds were too strong for us to fly (15kts). Too bad. I was looking forward to my first cross country flight and had reviewed the relevant material last night. I was down and ready to be the big pimp in the sky.

Instead, I sat with Shane as he gave me a bit of a private lesson on the different types of airspaces. The land above the ground is strictly controlled and carefully partitioned. There are entire sets of rules for every class of space (A through G). Here's an aeronautical chart of the DC area I bought at the school today. Thankfully, my time spent as a boyscout and video gamer have left me with pretty decent map reading skills. I don't play games anymore but I do still like maps. Charlottesville airport is the blue diamond in the lower left hand corner of the map. Dulles lies within the larger ring towards the center. Lots of rules, regulations, map icons and legends for me to learn.

It all works out for the best anyhow. The C'ville plague has been making its way through friends and colleagues lately. I've had it twice already and have been fighting off the remnants of round three recently. Pseudofed, I'm finding, alters my mental state more than I recall it doing in the past. So despite my efforts to be bright eyed, bushy tailed and ready to go, my physiology wouldn't have been at 100% regardless.

The weather has been spectacular here this weekend with temperatures in the sixties. So yesterday I dusted off "macchina due." I did once give it a name, "Siu Long," which means "Little Dragon." When I first got the bike, I found that it felt almost serpentine. Similarly, being a decent sized v-twin, it had a growl that would become somewhat ferocious at higher rpms. I go back and forth on the gender of this machine. Who knows why. I'm actually somewhat enamored with the whole notion of dragons. Not so much in the new age bookstore, kitchen magnet collecting, glittery t-shirt, grown up kid who still plays dungeons and dragons kind of way. Rather, I'm interested in the history of the beast and its relationship to serpentine energy, our ancestral history that we all carry in our spines, the primitive brain, cycles, cyclical movement, sine waves, seasons, periodicity, things along those lines. So I appreciate dragons as more of a concept or allegory.

I had an interesting experience taking the bike in for inspection. She hadn't been since last September. Getting a motorcycle inspected in Charlottesville is one of the many perks to life in white man's paradise, meaning that it's incredibly easy. Ok, I shouldn't be so harsh. The reason it's so easy to to do has really very little to do with "white men" in any pejorative sense. It has much more to do with a very nice fellow name Darren at Frys Springs Garage who also rides. For the past seven or eight years I've taken this and my previous bike there for inspections. Almost every time it's on a Saturday, many times after they've closed. Every time I've been in and out in less than half an hour. That type of local, good natured, friendly, kind man to man service is part of what makes Charlottesville so special. I'm writing about it a bit more at length here because, I'm sad to say, Fry Springs Garage closed yesterday for good. In a way I was proud to get my bike inspected there on their last day of service. I'm not sure if this is an economic sign of things to come or merely the end of an era. Regardless it's a bit sad.

Why bring up the notion of a motorcycle here in a blog about flying? Well, there are no hard and fast rules to this blog and even if there were, I write them. But there actually are some interesting relationships between flying and riding a motorcycle. On a bike, you have what you might call two and a half dimensions of control. Unlike in a car, you need to do more than just turn the steering wheel in order to change direction. On a bike, you lean. The amount of lean varies on your speed, angle and a few other factors. Getting turns right on a bike takes quite a bit of practice. Leaning the bike is somewhat like titling the wings and pressing hard on the handlebars very much like keeping rudder pressure. One huge difference here is that there's no evil little ball. Instead, there's you and the road, which you really don't want to hit.

So as I sit home warming my chair this weekend I get to reflect on things like this and lay out a road map for my next few lessons. The focus in coming weeks will be about flying out to Louisa, perfecting my skills on the radio, takeoff, and landing ... all on the road to my first solo flight. As I went through some of my textbook last night I was reminded of a syllabus given to me in an intro to Western Philosophy course when I was at Cornell. The professor had set the reading schedule so that we'd have finished all the readings mid way through the class. That way, we could begin re-reading the more difficult material for the second time while we talked about it together as a group. I've always wondered how many actually did that. Sadly I didn't.

My textbook doesn't always line up sequence wise with what I've been practicing with my flight instructors. So I've been jumping around a bit in the material. Perhaps the best course of action is to forge through all the chapters then review as needed later. I can definitely see how in learning to fly there is more of an imperative to go through material over and over. The more I learn this art, the more I see how much more there is still to know.

The Magic and the Sting ...

2009-02-03T00:44:00.019-05:00

Sometimes stories don't have a nice consistent theme. It feels much harder to write about flying when the relevant aspects of it are somewhat scattered. I'm getting towards the middle of my training, so lots of things are becoming important to learn and master. Yet being nearer to the front end of that timeline, I'm still much more the novice.

I've been switching planes around between my good old 172 and the newer 172SP. The latter is harder for me to fly. I'm still not used to the tighter controls. The older plane is much more broken in (some might call her loose) which makes her feel easier to fly. But I'm trying to work up to flying faster, more powerful planes. Shane told me I need to pick one and stick with it. So I think I'm going to ask around for the best way to lay out a road map that puts me in high performance planes sooner than later. I'm suspecting that getting the maneuvers down first might be the way to go. Then I can try them in a fancier plane later. At least that's my current thinking.

This past Sunday I went back to practicing turns around a point, "s turns," and stalls. I'll confess, I wasn't in the greatest shape to fly. My lesson was a bit earlier than usual and I had some friends over for dinner and a late night music jam recording session on Saturday. Somehow I managed to drink an extra glass of wine or two. It was very windy flying on Sunday so the extra bounces really didn't go well with the particular type of hangover wine provides. I did my best, but I'm learning that there is sometimes little room for mistakes when flying. Panic and fear are enemies. They can cause you to react incorrectly to a given situation. So as I practiced my power on stall, applying full power and tilting the plane skyward, I noticed evil ball slipping to starboard. So I applied port rudder which is totally the wrong thing to do. I continued to apply more incorrect rudder until Shane had to take the controls. Granted, it's not an uncommon novice mistake. I'm not willing to chalk it all up to being hung over as I wasn't that terribly so by the time we were actually up in the air. But the art of flying can at times run on a very tight margin of error. So even a slight bit of sub par physical or mental state can arguably put those statistical odds just a percentage or two out of favor. It would appear that a new area of training for me is to show restraint the night before I fly. Shane had a different way of phrasing it.

I'm learning more and more with each lesson is that flying requires a level of mastery, not just proficiency, over a number of skills. Looking out the window and sensing what the plane is doing is an obvious one. You can make a strong case for that skill being composed of different types of spatial awareness: feeling how the plane is pitching, yawing or rolling as well as noticing the wing's angle in relation to the horizon. The same goes for balancing all the "looking outside the plane" chops with taking a second or two to scan your instruments inside the cockpit. What are those instruments telling you? How do they match up with what you're seeing and feeling? Harder still is the performance not being a solo one. Your band mate, mother nature, has a complete mind of her own and rarely shares what key she's going to start playing in. Her voice is much stronger than any amp or PA system. In addition to all these sensory disciplines, the ability to make the plane do what you want often in response to what you're seeing and sensing is yet another set of skills to master. All of this needs to be parsed and executed often in just a second or two. Perhaps I should check and see if there are performance enhancing drugs for pilots. I suspect, however, that the optimal state for flying has more to do with a clear, rested, limber, well trained, attentive, focused, balanced body and mind.

My steep angle turns were fine. Flying around a point was very hard as the wind was blowing us all over the place. Getting back out into the practice area was fun though as all I've been doing the past several lessons was flying the traffic pattern from takeoff to landing. That's also fun but I definitely needed to get back to other flight maneuvers if for no other reason than to practice. My s turns were a bit difficult too due to wind and the fact that we picked a road to turn across that wasn't exactly straight. All in all I did pretty well. My radio chops are still weak, so I picked up another textbook devoted to the topic.

Next week, I do my first cross country flight. That simply means I'll be flying from one airport to another. The plan is to fly out to Louisa, which has no control tower. So I need to bone up on the rules for landing on an airstrip. It's a valuable skill. There are lots of beautiful, remote places around the world that only have airstrips. I'm gathering that access to these places is one of the fringe benefits of becoming a pilot.

I suspect one other thing that waking up earlier, bright eyed and bushy tailed will help with is remembering to bring my camera. As I spend a bit more time around pilots and instructors, I'm noticing that the ability to identify planes is somewhat of a universally respected skill. So I'm going to continue practicing that as well. There was an interesting bird parked on the runway as I walked over to do my pre flight but sadly I wasn't able to snap a photo.

The Cessna Skymaster is a twin engine plane with propellers arranged in the front and rear in a push-pull configuration. It's an interesting design. I continue to be amazed at the diversity of aircraft species. Human engineering plays such a crucial role in their evolution and natural selection. The same is true for automobiles. But in the case of planes it feels an entire order of magnitude more pronounced.

I should mention that the weather was gorgeous this weekend with clear skies and near sixty degrees. Being alone with all the planes is definitely more fun when it's not below freezing and windy. There really is something so calm and serene about it. Walking amidst such otherwise noisy machines with such awesome potential (ie., to fly) as they lie dormant and silent is still almost magical for me. I guess I'll see if it's magical enough next week.

Hangin' with the boys...

2009-01-27T22:53:00.008-05:00

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.

Round and round, old school ...

2009-01-19T15:54:00.019-05:00

One of my best and most difficult professors at Columbia was a very smart Greek fellow named Thanasis Tsantilas. He was famous for saying things like "You see, that's trivial right?" Before the age of Powerpoint class was presented using chalk and board. There were nine panes arranged in a three by three grid. Columns were raised and lowered like large windows. He'd begin writing a proof or algorithm starting in the upper left hand corner then proceed down and across. So you had to try and understand what he was saying while simultaneously writing it down correctly. It was quite common for him to get back to the first pane, after filling all nine, and have the class erupt in a mass groan as most were still trying furiously to copy down the wisdom he was about to erase. The notes I took from his classes served as a very solid foundation for my understanding of things like computational efficiency, optimization and runtime complexity. The textbooks were often almost completely irrelevant.

So too is my flying with Shane. He gave me some very simple analog instruction last week, drawing by hand a diagram of the air traffic pattern for Charlottesville airport. I've looked at it. It makes sense. Little did I know I was in for a bit of a flashback yesterday. This stuff has to more than just make sense. It has to become second nature.

It had been a while since I'd flown. I wouldn't exactly say that I was nervous but I was a bit out of practice in terms of what to expect, the natural rythm of learning, and still feeling out a new instructor. Even though Shane explained that we'd be "flying the pattern" it somehow didn't sink in right away. I guess I thought we'd be flying the pattern after doing my normal round of turns, banks and the same stuff I've been practicing for months. It's amazing how you can be paying direct attention to someone and not really get what they're telling you. Then again I might just need some ADHD medication.

We took off, as usual. Then before I knew it, he was telling me to bank, turn, and prepare to land. What he had said earlier suddenly sank in rapidly. We were going to practice flying the pattern from start to finish ... over and over. So we spent both my lessons yesterday and today doing precisely that. It was a very different experience. Things happen much more quickly and landing for me at this point really isn't trivial.

The "pattern" is basically a rectangle consisting of takeoff (upwind), a left turn (crosswind), another left turn paralell to the runway (downwind), still another left turn (base) and then a final left to the runway (final approach). There are specific adjustments that need to be made to speed, pitch, flaps and various other factors at each stage. We flew it over and over. Today, we didn't even return to the runway start but just performed several "touch and gos" taking off again immediately after landing. Fun stuff.

Part of my pre-flight inspection involves looking at the number of hours the engine has been running and checking if it's due for a 100 hour overhaul. Well, my trusty little Cessna 172 hit that mark exactly yesterday. So she'll be in the shop for a while. I had to upgrade to the newer, more powerful 172 SP. I've flown it once before. It's much more pane for sure and one that I'm not completely used to, yet.

Time to step up. Today's lesson was challenging in and of itself. But it was made even moreso by practicing in a plane with both more power as well as slightly different control and instrument locations. I think I may stick with this plane, however, since I eventually would like to get a high performance certification. But I also think there's a virtue in learning on a slightly more difficult instrument. In this case, it forces me to take assertive control of the aircraft. You really have to tell it precisely what to do and it will do it, for better or worse. Shane has been saying this repeatedly. Intentional deliberate action is a large part of what flying is about, assuming of course you're implementing the correct action for the given situation. Paradoxically, the art is sometimes also about acknowledging the very limits of control. But for the most part one does well to act with authority, I mean real authority that is built upon the solid foundation of practice, knowledge, and wisdom.

One thing I'm really starting to love about flying is that it is completely and utterly devoid of bullshit. Sometimes it seems as though so many aspects of my world are quite literally completely full of it. Flying continues to provide more refreshing, positive, yet seemingly minimalist philosophical benefits for me.

Shane doesn't pull any punches and I think that's a good thing. So when he says in a slight Irish accent, "What the hell are you banking so much for?" I take it as the appropriate reminder to buck up. When coming in for final approach the plane is moving very slowly and has full flaps engaged. I still have this tendency to bank a bit much in turns, which can be quite dangerous when flying slowly with full flaps. There isn't a huge margin for error when landing and the stakes are higher. So I'd go so far as to say a slap in the back of the head can even be warranted if you really start to screw up.

Here's a video of one loop around the pattern from takeoff to landing, about six minutes. The landing gives you a sense of how delicate the operation is. The plane doesn't automatically stay level to the ground as you approach. In fact, mother nature seems to enjoy tossing the occasional crosswind gust just as you're about to land. You also get to hear the sound of the screaming stall warning which used to crack me up months ago.

There's still a tremendous amount of information I have to learn and real world technique I need to practice. Flying twice in one week definitely helps the learning curve. But I'm also thankful to have good instructors who are forcing me to get things right, and consistently do so without having to think. I don't think that's an easy thing to teach let alone etch permanently in both mind and reflex. As the pilot of flight 1549 who landed in the Hudson river last week clearly demonstrated, getting it right can mean the difference between life and death.

The Miracle ...

2009-01-15T17:55:00.023-05:00

News is still coming in about the US Airways jet that just went down in the Hudson river, literally in my old backyard. It seems as though all the passengers have survived. Every story I've read and heard so far has a strong overtone of awe. As well they should. It seems miraculous that 155 passengers and crew would survive a crash landing into the frigid water this time of year. So many news clips these days speak of tragedy, horror, and coming future economic doom. I smile that in some roundabout way the spirit of technology, at precisely the point where it meets the razor's edge of fate, has given us instead something to be very, very, happy about. For a short while at least the news cycle will have a uniquely different, positive tone.

Perhaps it is part miracle. But I'm thinking it has more to do with an exceptional pilot and crew. Somebody did their homework. Somebody paid close attention in flight school. Somebody had the clarity of mind to stare death in the face and say, "Not yet!" while at the same time coordinating what appears to be a double engine failure crash landing. The plane was coming down. It had to go somewhere. Somebody thought a bit outside the box and made the right call. Somebody surely didn't seize, flinch or give up. Sure, somebody also got lucky.

I hope in the hours and days to come we learn more about this exceptional pilot and what may have given him the edge to save everyone's life; that edge which has been sharpened by decades of research, development and training. Hundreds of engineers have spent their lives figuring out how to best optimize airframes so that they'll stay in one piece. Never mind the iterations of detail that have gone into creating an interface that gives a pilot the highest level of control, for lack of a better term, humanly possible. Hundreds were likely responsible for figuring out how to make the plane float as long as it did. I wonder hoe many more were involved in designing life rafts that self inflate so quickly. With even a basic modicum of research, I'm sure these lists could fill volumes. Glasses should also be raised to the fine tradition of flight instructors who have passed down wisdom through the ages of how to land a plane when the engines fail and live to tell about it.

Three cheers to that pilot, his crew, the engineers who maintained, designed and built that plane, air traffic control, rescue teams and everyone who helped 155 people walk away from death itself. Many may be thanking god tonight for saving lives and they may be right to do so. But I humbly contend the ambrosia of thanks should get spread around a bit more.

There are many heroes of myth, fable and fantasy. There are also tens of thousands of whom we never ever hear about.

Ho hum ...

2009-01-12T18:54:00.009-05:00

Sadly, I don't have much to report these days. Mother nature has been very unkind the last couple of Sundays and I still haven't slotted a weekday for flying. With the days getting a bit longer I may have some more flexibility.

Dick has put me with another instructor, a nice fellow from Ireland whose full name I'll omit until I've asked his permission to use it. It is interesting to see how different people try to explain the art of flying. It was too windy to fly this past Sunday so I went up to the flight school to get some hours of "ground instruction." I normally do that at home with videos and books but it certainly doesn't hurt to have someone teach you either. For example, Shane drew me this diagram of airport landing rules. Looks like part Indiana Jones secret map, part ... something else.

Believe it or not, I find it as useful as anything in my textbooks or videos so far. Strange how the mind processes information.

I'm hoping to fly again this Sunday and start a second weekly lesson on Wednesdays or Thursdays. This should compel me to start watching the videos and reading the books again. I must confess that not flying has made me a bit lazy regarding the project. I never considered how extremely difficult learning a skill that is so intimately linked to the weather might be. Perhaps I've been pissing the gods off lately, it's possible.

With much of my recent downtime, I've also begun fantasizing about partial plane ownership. I tend to think a bit far ahead sometimes. There's a flyer posted at CFC that I've been tearing little contact info strips off of for the past few months. This weekend I finally began an email exchange with the guy. It's like another world. This particular plane, a Beechcraft A36 Bonanza can seat six people and cruise at 160kts (184mph) and go as high as 20,000ft. Here's a fine example of my potential future object of lust:

Hmm, maybe I should have held off on buying the car. I guess we'll see. They say a beautiful woman can motivate a man to do anything. Not sure what they say about planes.

A lesson with the master ...

2008-12-31T11:31:00.020-05:00

Life can be random. Life can be serendipitous. Sometimes life can feel quite ordered and planned. While I don't think there are hard and fast rules to what life can be like, there are definite adjectives that seem particularly well suited to explaining the unique flavors of our conscious experience. Yesterday, life ran in parallel. Regan, my old instructor, has moved out of town. So I had my first lesson with Dick Yates who owns the flight school. He actually took me up for my first test flight months ago to see if I could handle being up in the air. But having a lesson with someone is much more involved and intimate than a demonstration.

Regan was an excellent instructor. In fact, I think he was perfect for me at the time. But my lesson with Dick yesterday was of a slightly different nature. Clearly, he's been teaching people to fly (as well as flying himself) for a very long time. Fortunately, the fact that I hadn't flown in more than two weeks didn't impact my flying. Everything came back to me. Pre flight inspection was fine, engine run up no problem, and takeoff smooth. I didn't fumble talking on the radio. I had to taxi in back of a larger jet airliner, taking care not to get too close less he blast me with jet exhaust. Right off the bat, I got a reassuring sense of "old wisdom" that I always welcome. I'm talking about advice like, "Point to each gauge on the checklist rather than just look at it. It reduces the chance of your making a mistake."

It was a picture perfect day for flying, about 50 degrees with clear skies.

Being up in the air was fantastic. Weather aside, my comfort with the plane and controls has remained. We basically practiced steep angle turns around a fixed point. Pretty fun stuff for me at this level banking the plane at 45 degrees and going round and round, trying to keep myself at a fixed distance and height from somebody's grain silo. Dick quickly noticed I was spending too much time looking at my instruments. He reminded me that the maneuver is properly executed with eyes outside the plane. I can tell what a 45 degree angle is by looking at the horizon. Plus the better I get at reading what the plane is doing in terms of pitch, yaw, and roll ... from the outside ... the more intuitive control I'll have of the aircraft. Seems obvious, but there's enough going on in the cockpit to help you forget. I love the strength of simple wisdom.

Then things got kicked up a notch. I had practiced stalls and simulated engine failure before, but not like this. We stalled the plane. I mean really stalled it. I got to feel what the wind buffeting the air frame was all about. Stalling is when the plane no longer generates lift. The stall warning siren (which no longer cracks me up) comes on a bit before you actually stall. We took it quite a ways past that. My altimeter began to show clearly that we were losing altitude. Scary for a second, but reassuring to know what the plane and I are capable of in that situation. Even more important is knowing how easy it is to get out of and remain calm.

Engine failure is bad. You never want it to happen. But it does. When it does you want to be able to land the plane safely. Without an engine, you don't have quite as many options in terms of speed, altitude and distance. Dick gave me a very real demonstration of what to do. We cut the engine, he picked a landing spot (somebody's farm) and we took the plane down to what felt like just above the tree tops. His ability to control and move the plane is astounding. Once again, it's not so much about the gauges and dials. It's more about getting the plane to where you need it and in the proper attitude. Dick demonstrated "sliding" the plane on a turn. It's what you might guess. You bank the plane, but are flying slowly enough where too much bank will lose altitude. It would be like driving on a banked turn covered in ice and sliding down towards the bottom of the bank. Neat stuff. I'm sure we'll be practicing more of it.

It feels good to get some real practice with emergency landings. I was a bit nervous about only having dealt with the situation very casually. It's the type of skill I appreciate can be life saving. It's where our mastery of nature and gifts for engineering understand their limits, and show respect to the forces greater than us. It's the direct opposite of hubris. I think it's what Christians really mean by "fear of the lord." We do our best, which is all we can do, to develop skills and techniques to give us a fighting chance in the face of death itself. At no point during any of these maneuvers was I afraid. No need for ginger gum either. It could be due to the fact that I've faced the grim reaper a few times already in my life. It could also just be that I'm starting to form a solid bond with my flying machine. Grim is not to be trifled with nor provoked (ie., riding down the center lane of a two lane road at full speed on a bicycle). He'll come visit you often enough on his own. When he does, he can be met with calm, steady, practiced determination, even a brief wave hello before you help him fade back into the future.

My landing and approach were relatively smooth. Again, Dick had a slightly different take, given that this was his first time landing with me. Rather than come in on standard approach where you do a 1/4 circle around the airport from the right, we made a direct approach where I had the runway in sight for about 20 miles. It did allow me to focus a bit more on the mechanics of landing. Although I've done ok with the standard method too. I didn't make the smoothest touchdown, but I'm getting there. Turbulence picks up when you get close to the ground and it's a challenge to keep the sucker perfectly level, floating on that cushion of air.

I'm going up again on Sunday and am looking forward to it. Hopefully mother nature will be kind. Dick prefers to fly earlier in the day so the spirit of Bacchus will have to be as well. I'll leave you with some pictures of my plane having a drink. It's a much more delicate and deliberate process than filling up your car.

The plane must be grounded to the truck since a spark can ruin your day, not so much on the ground but by the accumulated charge while flying.

I like aviation fuel. It's always interesting for me to get fuel on my hands, which can happen easily during various parts of pre flight. It is after all liquid energy. Compared to gasoline, when you get it on your fingers it evaporates even more quickly and does not leave a permanent all-day odor. I wonder if they make it in a men's fragrance.

If you can't take to the sky ...

2008-12-28T19:42:00.054-05:00

Take to the road, preferably in a machine that will allow you to move as quickly (and safely) as possible. I'm a huge believer in the power of transportation. It transforms our world and lets people reach beyond normal definitions of space and distance. Imagine if we could get to Iraq in 30 minutes. I bet we'd all have a ton more Iraqi friends.

Like most technology the rewards have come with trade offs. But tonight I'd like to write about one of the positive sides of technological evolution, a new love in my life, my 2003 Saab 9-5 Aero. She's the most amazing car I've ever owned.

Let it be known, I loved my old 1999 Saab 9-3 SE. She was a fantastic machine: 200hp turbocharged inline 4, sport exhaust, SAS swaybar, front wheel drive, excellent ergonomics, and a rear hatch that gave her more cargo room than some SUVs. Many car enthusiasts contend that the Saab hatchback was one of the original utility vehicles. But as is often the case with machines and perhaps sometimes even with people, she got old. Little bits and pieces were starting to break, rattles were cropping up here and there. She's still a very worthy and capable machine. In fact she's still a beautiful, wonderful car. With 140k miles, her engine still growls and pulls like new. I simply found myself at a crossroads, invest about $2k in a new suspension and other little odds and ends, or get something else. Thanks to the recent economic downturn, nobody is selling cars these days. So there are some great deals out there. Who knows, maybe subconsciously I was wanting to get myself a really amazing holiday gift.

I went to bring my "old lady" in to the shop last week for a broken electric window motor. There in the lot sat this beauty. I had actually seen her before and even took her for a quick test ride. But I hadn't really thought seriously about buying the car. I never envisioned myself getting behind the wheel of a steel gray sedan. But this machine adds new depth to the phrases "silent by deadly" and "still waters run deep." Who knows why but I asked my mechanic to let me take this car home as a loaner so he could work on mine at his leisure.

I don't know how in the world I thought I wouldn't end coming back with a check. It's like going home with a woman, getting naked, going to bed and saying, "It's ok honey, we can be naked and *not* sleep together." The rest is history. I drove her up to NJ for Christmas.

Despite not being at all in the spirit of the season this year, objectively speaking I made out like a fat rat: the car, ValentineOne radar detector and Garmin Nuvi 770 GPS system. Driving up this year was an amazing experience. The V1 detector provides excellent information (including direction, strength, and radar type) to help you decide if the bogey is real or fake. I'm not sure if I just got lucky, but suffice it to say I managed some impressive velocities and not a ticket to show for it (eg., Cville to NYC in 4hrs 20min ... with one stop). The Garmin GPS system is simply magical. It talks to you. It talks to my cell phone and lets me use it as a wireless hands free speaker. It plays mp3 files and can transmit via FM on any station. It tells me when there's traffic up ahead and re-routes me if it thinks it will save me time.

But I shouldn't really start by talking about the electronic countermeasures I use while driving. I should talk a bit about the car. Forget the fact that she has barely a scratch on her or that the leather interior still smells new. It's hard to explain the grace and power this machine offers. The engine purrs, yet can thrust you back in your seat like a roller coaster. The wheels glide over the road. The chassis feels capable of moving in any direction at any speed without ever coming unglued, all while maintaining the purr and glide. It's a Saab. It was born from jets. It's also not just any Saab. According to some Saab fanatics (of which I am one) 2003 was the best year for the 9-5 Aero. It was the last year before GM bought the entire company. [Correction, GM bought the rest of Saab in 2000. But I have been told by several that '03 was the best year.] It also has insane bells and whistles like auto leveling bi-xenon headlights, rain sensing wipers, backup infrared sensors, auto dimming rear view mirrors and an air conditioned glove box.

The Aero series is the top of the line performance model powered by a 2.3 liter turbocharged four cylinder engine that outputs 250hp and 258lb-ft of torque. Generating more than 100hp per liter was a feat once only achieved by the likes of Ferrari and Porsche. Times have changed. That turbo also helps her get 30+ mpg on the highway when cruising at reasonable, double digit speeds. She has a fully independent sport suspension that allows her to maneuver like a gazelle on crack. The car is rock solid and provides such incredible feedback. Once you mate to it by sitting in the driver's seat, starting the engine and engaging the clutch, you quickly become superman on wheels.

My old car also had a powerful engine too but it was mated to a split semi independent suspension (rear) which is quite simply inferior to the fully independent setup. Body roll and torque steer are virtually eliminated now and cornering stability vastly improved. I can take exit ramps and turns at literally twice the speed I used to. The 9-5 was designed after the 9-3 (aka the NG900). Saab engineers took to heart many of the complaints people had about the 9-3/NG900 platform and went way beyond to design a truly amazing machine.

It's nice to reconnect with a childhood passion. I've always loved machines. Like most young teenage boys, cars quickly became a prime focus for me. My first car was a 1973 Pontiac Firebird. I had to mow a ton of lawns in my neighborhood to buy that car. I never did much work to her as I was still a novice mechanic. I also didn't have money to buy aftermarket upgrades. But she was my first and I'll never forget her. Then I saw this car, a 1970 GTO RamAir IV which actually belonged to my cousin's husband. It was love at first sight. I had to have it. It was the greatest car ever made (to me at the time). Truth be told, it was the stuff of American automotive legend; a huge V8 jammed into a large chassis designed to go in a straight line as fast as possible even if it took several gallons of gas to do so. It was loud, candy apple red, and ridiculously fast. That's when I started working at (no joke) Joe's Garage. I worked for free one entire summer in exchange for help working on my car at night. They were good times. I could write an entire entry about the GTO. It was Pontiac's take on Enzo Ferrari's original idea ("Gran Turismo Omologato", Italian for "Grand Touring Homologated") to make a real race car that you could drive on the street. The car even has its very own song from 1964 written by Ronnie and the Daytonas. It's why we have cars now with suffices like GT or more appropriately, Aero.

The thing people sometimes forget about machines is that they're made by people. We design them. We anthropomorphize them. Ever wonder why cars have two headlights (eyes) and a grille (mouth)? We imbue them with power and meaning that somehow transcend the designer's and builder's original intent. They are to a large degree extensions of our collective selves. We love cars. Hopefully we can make ones that run on electrons and not fossil fuels ... soon.

So what does this have to do with flying? Not a whole lot. My car is made by a company that also makes planes. But the commercial hype exaggerates the influence. She is blindingly fast. I can move at close to the same speed as my Cessna, but not completely. Nor am I moving in a straight line. The cockpit offers a ton of information to help me navigate and avoid "obstacles." Like a plane, my car is a machine that helps me get from point A to point B quickly and safely. But perhaps most notably, I've not been able to fly for the last two weeks due to weather. So I had to write about something.

Pray mother nature grows kind soon before I start blogging about sweaters and socks.

The Ugly, the Good, and the Bad ...

2008-12-14T20:13:00.029-05:00

It was a bit of a late night yesterday which didn't leave me in the best physical shape to fly this afternoon. But it's been three weeks since I last flew. Given that smacking into a car didn't stop me from flying for the first time months ago, I figured a mild hangover shouldn't today. A word to the wise though, the g forces of flying don't mix well with hangovers. They can in fact make a very ugly cocktail.

Despite my sub par physical condition, walking out onto the tarmac to go and inspect my plane was still a wonderful experience. I enjoy being alone with the other aircraft. The wind was kicking up more than usual. But it still felt so incredibly calm, quiet and clear. The crisp chill air created an acoustic and physical stillness as the sun's rays pierced through the cold undisturbed, arriving straight and true to their final destination after eight long minutes in space. The planes sat quietly waiting soaking up the sun.

One of my favorites, the Avanti, was parked out front. I've taken photos of this plane before, but it would take hundreds of pictures and hours of film to even come close to presenting the feel of how this plane looks. To me, this machine could easily be taken directly out of (or put directly into) a Science Fiction novel. But it's here right now. So many things in our world are human dreams come true.

My preflight routine went well. That's good as it's been a while so I'm glad to see I've internalized what needs to be done. I actually enjoy inspecting the plane. It gives me a chance to get excited about the fact that I'm about to go fly, an appetizer of sorts. But this time of year the wind will quickly numb your ears and remind you to keep moving if you start taking too long.

I spoke for the first time on the radio today. I know, big deal. I feel like a little kid writing about it like this. But it's a thing. Speaking on the radio is very structured and sounds only semi intelligible to the non initiate. It's not a chat room. I would have thought that all my public speaking experience (and sexy voice) would have made it a no brainer. Well, it wasn't exactly hard, but the opposite seems true. It's so easy you feel like a complete idiot for screwing it up. I mean ... I just screwed up ... talking! I actually found myself a bit nervous. One of my flight videos comments on how people get more apprehensive about talking on the radio in the early stages than landing the plane. Thankfully, I didn't audibly fumble the ball. "Charlottesville tower, this is Cessna 13508 with information x-ray in front of the flight school, request permission to taxi." I did, however, freeze up when the tower told me I could. Thankfully, Regan bailed me out.

Flying was fantastic. We practiced turning maneuvers. Specifically, turning around a fixed point and "s turns." I took some time to finally get my seat positioned properly with respect to the yoke and most importantly the pedals. I've had some trouble in the past maintaining right rudder pressure and letting the plane skid a bit. Not today. Being able to keep my heel on the floor made it very easy to set rudder pressure with my feet that wasn't fatiguing. Making things easier on my feet allows the rest of my brain to focus on the remaining two axes of control. All in all a very nice bang for the buck.

It was quite windy and bouncy today. That combined with my modest hangover kept my eyes very much more outside the plane. Looking inside allows your stomach to "think" too much. Well, I've been trying to focus on keeping my eyes outside the plane more anyhow. Perhaps since it's been a while since I flew last, I was able to focus more on that and not be overly concerned with some specific aspect of flying I covered last time. While it is important to check gauges, I find I fly much better when I am able to look outside and "fly."

A fixed radius turn is precisely that. You fly in a circle. But in windy conditions you have to bank at different angles in order to keep your distance constant. Today when flying into the wind air speed showed about 130mph while ground speed was closer to 80mph. That's some decent wind. Regardless, I was able to turn like a champ if I say so myself. Keeping my eyes looking around and really getting a sense for where I was in 3d space made it both fun and more precise. The bumps and turbulence pass. "S turns" are similar, except you carve out 180 degree turns around a line. The same rules basically apply but you really have to get your angles right or you'll still be turning once you fly over your line instead of being flat and level. Tons of fun. I look forward to picking it all back up next week. I can see where flying solo and practicing this stuff on my own is going to be an incredible experience.

The best way I can describe flying today is by relating it to music, specifically when you begin to finally master a song on an instrument. Initially, you rely on the sheet music and plod along getting the basic gist. Then, over time you become more familiar with the notes and if you're lucky start to identify with the emotional content underneath. Eventually you start to express some of this emotion in subtle gestures. I don't have much experience with learning dances, only some. But the aspect of movement comes very much into play here. The thing that makes all of this so beautiful to me is the synergy. It's more than just moving the controls so that the plane will fly the way I want it. As I carve out turns in the sky and maneuver through the air along a trajectory I'm envisioning in my head, something else happens. I'm learning in some sense, a new mode of being, a new mode of expression, a new language. It's nice finally being able to speak a few words even if my vocabulary and pronunciation are still limited.

So, you may be asking, what was "the bad?" Sadly, my flight instructor, Regan, is moving on to brighter and greener pastures. Bummer for me. Good for him. He's been an excellent teacher and I can only hope my next one is half as good. Learning to fly is still, from my perspective, very much like learning a craft or trade skill must have been in ancient times. Wisdom is imparted from human to human. The person doing the imparting makes a big difference to both the person receiving and the wisdom that makes it through all the dense matter in between. Ironic that such a high tech industry still relies so fundamentally on very old, deeply human traditions.

So I'll leave you with a short video of Regan demonstrating part of an s turn. Not exactly the same kind of footage you might recall from Top Gun but it does give you some feel for what it's like being in a small plane.

Live long and prosper, Regan.

Bittersweet ...

2008-12-07T16:04:00.013-05:00

Damn. For the second weekend in a row I've been grounded. Last Sunday it was raining. Today it was too windy. On the one hand I'm glad to feel the effects of aviation's proud safety history. On the other, I'm bummed at not being able to fly. In theory, it should give me (once again) a chance to catch up on the books. Theories ...

It's likely a good thing my lesson was canceled today. I went on a flight of sorts last night helping a friend finish a bottle of this particularly interesting beverage, Firefly "Sweet Tea" Vodka. Despite having a ridiculously powerful sweet tooth, I find the iced tea they serve down here (aka "The South") sickeningly sweet. So I never order it. This beverage accurately replicates the taste at 70 proof, genius. For some reason my anatomy is drawn to sickeningly sweet beverages combined with alcohol. So I was more than happy to help. As they say, "A friend in need..." I could be wrong, but I don't think I would have enjoyed flying around with a hangover this morning.

Fate might also be suggesting I start scheduling weekday lessons. Apparently they become particularly important when learning to land, which is what we're slowly gearing up for. I've been trying to juggle several projects lately and it feels as though I should make flying more of a priority. It is after all the most fun.

Of course, I'm referring to flying airplanes ... sober.

Rain, rain, go away!

2008-11-30T15:33:00.022-05:00

So many people claim to love rainy days. You get to sit in and curl up with a good book, clean your house, fire up a wood stove, even play in the rain. But I'm starting to hate rainy days, at least rainy Sundays. It means I can't fly, yet. When I have an instrument rating (IR) this will be a non issue. But that's sadly a ways off (50 hrs more after I finish the PPL). Even when I complete my PPL I'll have to fly under visual flight rules (VFR) which will still keep me grounded in the rain. The term itself suggests to me the relationship between a parent and a teenager. It may be hubris for me to consider myself that old. I hope hubris doesn't need a hyperlink too.

It's interesting how my desire for an IR grows in direct proportion to mother nature's thwarting of my plans. Man sometimes seems obsessed with conquering nature. It often leads to folly. The delicate balancing act between living with nature and conquering it hit mainstream media long ago. But I'm not sure you can have all of one or the other. I mean, I'm sitting here in my house all nice and dry. Yet, the construction and maintenance of my home and the energy it requires consume natural resources. Sure, I could in theory build a more energy efficient, "greener" home, etc... But that would consume more resources. The same can be said for so many components of modern day life. Clearly I find myself with too much extra time on my hands, not being able to fly today. So it would seem as though I'm whining along instead in some sort of verbal masturbation. Please excuse the mess.

I guess the balancing act is something I (we) can at least strive for. Perhaps catching up on my flight manuals would be a good way to do that. Meh, I'm feeling quite the adolescent today. Good grief, I can actually hear a Cessna overhead right now. Must be somebody training for an IR. *sigh*

Balance ... schmalance.

If it's cool enough for a two year old ...

2008-11-23T20:48:00.069-05:00

Without a doubt, blogging has added another dimension to my flight training. I suspect many bloggers notice as well. Foreknowledge of writing about an experience at a later date affects the experience itself. Conversely, feeling compelled to write regularly about a subject can often put a strain on the Muse's structural integrity. So when in doubt, exploit small children. My most recent photo download included shots from today at the airport as well as from a party I hosted last night.

This is my friend Matthew's son, Barrett, showing me his toy plane and how it flies. He's two years old. He understands that there are machines like this that like birds, fly. He thinks they're cool, not as cool as trains perhaps but I suspect in the top five of all things cool. Granted he's smarter than the average cub. But still, good enough for me. At the very least his raw senses of wonder and simplicity are some things I should occasionally strive to keep more in the forefront of my mind.

I remember attending a welcome speech at Cornell back in 1987. The speaker, a senior, was quoting from a recently published book, "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten." He included bits of wisdom like: share everything, play fair, don't hit people, etc... I think you get the idea. While effective rhetoric for incoming college freshmen, I've always remained a bit uncomfortable with some of the implied logic that glosses over the inherent complexities of most situations. Surely the subject is one for debate. Keeping simple rules in mind can often serve us well. I remember learning a design technique in computer science: KISS (keep it simple stupid). In fact, while flying I might do better to try and remember some of the simple rules. But the fact is, there are MANY simple rules that need to be remembered at the same time in a type of mental rotation. If you forget them you can (in the worst case) kill or severely maim yourself and other people. That's probably not a good thing to tell kids in kindergarten and I doubt Barrett would want to hear about what happens when a plane really crashes. I guess balancing the child mind with all its potential for awe and wonder with the adult mind that understands responsibility and consequence is at the very least an interesting mediation for me to consider practicing more.

I have no idea why I'm ending all my paragraphs with conclusions about things I "should" do or do more often. Maybe I'm feeling subconsciously that if I repeatedly tell myself the right thing to do, next time I'll do better. I guess blogs can be a form of self-help, literally. I suppose it's better than me telling people what "they" should do. Take it all with as large a grain of salt as you need.

Anyhow, my regular Cessna 172 wasn't available today. Seems like she's having some trouble with her nose gear. Blessing became fortune as I had to fly a newer (2004) model instead, a 172SP. She's newer, has more power, fuel injection, GPS, autopilot, and a spiffy modern cockpit.

She also has five drain plugs under each wing that need to be checked plus three under her belly. That's thirteen total fuel drains that need checking instead of just three on the older 172 I normally fly. Safety means more pre flight time filling and staring at a bottle of highly refined, light blue petroleum product. Perhaps Regan sensed that it was going to take me a bit longer to check out this bird since I was less familiar with her. Either that or he's just coming to accept the fact that I'm sometimes slow. Regardless, I had a few extra moments to snap shots of precisely the kinds of things that we check.

Here's a flap strut. Flaps extend the wing and generate more lift. They're used when flying at slow speed and for landing. You don't want any cracks in these struts and like everything else on the plane all nuts and bolts should be secure and snug.

Here is an infamous "piano wire" hinge. There are three on each wing of this particular plane. They attach the ailerons to the wing itself. It's important that the wire is visible, unbroken and bolted down at the end.

Lastly, although there are of course many more items on the checklist, here is part of the tail elevator assembly. I still haven't braved how to set manual controls on my camera, so please excuse the excessive shadow here.

After a slightly longer pre flight inspection I was raring to go. New plane, beautiful day, ground reference maneuvers here I come. I already know some of the issues involved with flying a new plane for the first time. Gauges and controls can be in different places. Engine horsepower varies. Like many things in life, however, nothing substitutes for the real experience. Regan has commented in the past about potential challenges related to flying different planes. Today I found out about some of them first hand in real life detail.

There was a modest crosswind which I managed to successfully deal with at takeoff. I think I have that one down now. You can simply feel the controls push back to a more neutral position. As always, a light touch on the yoke goes a very long way. This is likely to be a main area of work for me in coming weeks.

One particular maneuver Regan showed me today was steep banked turns. Basically you tilt the plane 45 degrees while turning a full circle. It's fine when you're doing it yourself. But when someone else is, the G forces don't seem to mix well with the chemicals in your stomach. I scrambled for some ginger gum but was a bit late. My adrenaline was up. So while I was more or less able to repeat the maneuver, I fumbled a relatively easy one we tried afterwards.

There are a couple of different types of stalls. One involves slow speed and not enough air over the wing. Another involves full power but too steep an angle of attack. IE., the plane is pointed too far upward. When we tried this maneuver before, I loved it. It's fundamentally a very simple one. Today however, some combination of my raised adrenaline plus the virtue of this plane's dynamics put evil ball in a bad place. So I overcompensated. Overcompensation can often lead to this negative, oscillating feedback loop where you struggle back and forth with the controls eventually leading to very uncoordinated flight. The thing is, a stall plus uncoordinated flight can lead to a spin. Spins are bad, very bad, 'nuff said.

In fact, my main problem was not applying enough right rudder pressure. All the fight instruction videos talk about this. You have to apply pretty constant pressure to the right rudder to compensate for the propeller, engine rotation and slipstream. The 172 I normally fly doesn't require very much. But this plane did. I'm still getting used to maintaining constant rudder pressure. It's a bit like your car's accelerator pedal, but there are two of them and they need constant adjustment. Even more tricky is that the tops of the pedals are the brakes when on the ground. Anyhow, lesson learned, hopefully. A bit more of a relaxed and constant control on the pedals will likely lead to more rewarding flight experiences in the future.

I'll have to ask Barrett what he thinks about all this, skipping of course the details of a spin and any other life threatening possibilities. Something tells me he wouldn't mind putting a plane into a full nose dive. Regardless, knowledgeable yet gentle, even playful control remains an almost zen-like objective for me. There, now my self help prose can go into the new age section. Whatever it takes, as the stakes go up from here.

Towards the end of today's lesson we practiced engine failure. Not something fun to think about but one I'll be glad to have at least rehearsed. First objective, keep flying the plane. Sounds simple right? You'd be surprised how even simple things get tossed out of your brain when you're in a plane at four thousand feet without power. Suffice it to say, there are procedures. I wish I had a video of me flipping through the emergency procedure checklist for engine restart while also trying to fly the plane at optimal lift glide speed and maneuver towards an open field where I would theoretically crash land. Some may have found it quite entertaining. If you were sitting in the passenger or back seat, however, perhaps not so much.

At this point I would imagine at least 50% of those who have expressed an interest in flying with me next Spring (or late Winter) are ready to bail. To them I say, "fortune favors the bold." Yet I also acknowledge that fortune also sometimes squashes the bold like bugs on a windscreen. There's that idea of balance again. Regardless, if we end up taking a road trip somewhere and you end up driving, I reserve the right to chuck water balloons (filled with a liquid of my choosing) from my plane down at you on the road.

Frightening as some of the aspects of flying might be it remains a fundamentally magical thing. I am sometimes very much like a child taking baby steps. So now this is me holding up an adult version of a toy plane for all of you to see.

Somebody had a very nice ride parked outside the flight school. I somehow doubt they even fly it. More than likely they pay someone else to. Ugh. I slap my hand to my forehead. But ...

Look, look, look, look! Jet engine impeller fins!!!!

Look! I said look! Are you looking!?!?!?! LOOK!!!!

Back in the saddle ...

2008-11-18T23:59:00.023-05:00

It was exactly two months ago since my wipe out with a Honda. Hard to believe it's been that long. Healing can be such a seemingly endless yet educational process. I remember the doctor telling me that it might be four to six weeks until I could exercise or ride my bike again. That was miserable. Even worse, that estimate eventually grew to even longer. My official "100% freedom of use" date was yesterday. I'm proud to say that I was promptly back on my freshly repaired ride, new helmet, and mended left hand all working seamlessly together ... in forty degree weather! Time and seasons unfortunately wait for no man, nor no man's hand.

Yes this is only tangentially related to flying. But since the irony of the accident coincided with my first "test flight" I feel oddly compelled to follow up. I have some bruises, scars and permanent lumps. But key systems appear to be functioning within proper operational parameters. Here are some follow up shots. I am indeed still snap happy.

Bike all nice and fixed with new rim and seat. Ms. mountain bike also got the bonus from downtime with new v-brakes! She hung in the shop along with Mr. Gary Fisher above. My F500 was the last Cannondale to come with the older style cantilever mechanism. I can't wait to join the ranks of not-so-sore forearms on the downhills.

Shiny new red helmet with removable visor and tension adjustment. Seems like head protection technology has advanced over the last fifteen years. Me likey. If only it had wireless 802.11g and Vonage.

Hand, v 2.0. Seems to be functioning OK. I was able to do my first two handed workout yesterday. It was a little sore this morning but manageable. Small red spot where I smacked the pavement. Did I mention I basically ended up with a stigmata from the accident? Not so much on my left foot but a solid three out of four for sure.

It's a mixed blessing with respect to flying. Being able to actually grip the controls without a cast or sharp spikes of pain shooting up through my wrist is a vast improvement. Yet I can also now grab the yoke a bit too firmly at times and yank the plane in all sorts of adrenaline soaking directions. Mr. Hand needs to re-learn a few things I guess. The whole ordeal has definitely been a powerful lesson in patience. Hopefully it is one I won't have to repeat anytime soon.

Distance ...

2008-11-16T18:58:00.044-05:00

In all honesty, I've been trying to make time to get ahead on my reading this week. But it just hasn't happened. I found myself cramming down information last night in preparation for today's flight. Even this morning I was watching videos on ground operations, airport runway rules and phraseology. Cramming is bad, mmmk? I think the mind you bring to a thing makes a big difference on the experience. If that mind is stressed out and worried you're increasing the odds of an uphill event. At least that seems to be how my mind works.

Got to CFC and Regan had that look in his eye that told me even before he had to say a word, "It's bumpy up there." While not directly confirmed, the weather reports suggested some potentially turbulent and changing conditions. My old friend, Mr. Crosswind was also blowing away on the tarmac again. If conditions were good, we were actually going to have some fun practicing the finer points of flying "S" and constant radius turns. I was looking forward to those. Every once and a while it dawns on me that I'm actually learning how to fly ... pausing on each of those last four words like a mantra, meditating on both their individual and whole meaning. As I walk around town these days I sometimes look at birds and just grin to myself.

The weather has been quite rainy here in Charlottesville the last few days. Consequently, most of the planes haven't been flying lately. Today's blustery weather also kept most recreational pilots home. So it was just me and the birds out there. They sat like quiet horses tied to posts, just waiting for someone to ride them.

There's an austere beauty to the General Aviation area of the airport. Being a large, flat piece of land, the sky's presence is very pronounced. Simply being out there near the runway puts you in a different position than you normally might find yourself. You're much closer to the action, near that point of departure where people leave the earth and take to the sky. In a sense, it's like an altar, or shrine, at the very least a place where some kind of transformation takes place. Up in the air today, a majestic army of puffy angels slowly marched overhead inviting me to come play.

My pre flight kung fu has improved. I managed to get the fuel and plane checked in pretty reasonable time. The cold weather and howling wind no doubt motivated an extra spring in my step as I walked around the plane. So I went about my normal pre takeoff business, starting the engine, taxiing to the runway, running up the engine, testing various systems. Still getting used to driving with my feet.

I set up everything for a crosswind takeoff and began to accelerate down the runway. Seems like my last attempt may have had a bit of beginner's luck. Guess what happens if you have ailerons turned into the wind at takeoff and DON'T turn them back in a timely manner? You leave the runway and suddenly the plane quickly rolls to one side, reminding you that the luck your life hangs by is tied to a very short, thin string. Right out of the gate today my adrenaline was jacked. As I rose above the airport, the wind tossed me around like a kernel in a bag of microwave popcorn. Yum, more adrenaline.

I spent the rest of the lesson trying to remember the proper technique for getting out of a stall and generally keeping the plane balanced. Bumpy air definitely makes for a challenge in pretty direct proportion. After a while it all started to come back to me. I think my liver had also processed most of the adrenaline. "S" and constant radius turns will have to wait until next time. Nice to have things to look forward too.

As I calmed down and settled back into my groove I was able to enjoy being close to those puffy angels. They were still a bit overhead but much closer in reach and far clearer in view. Like silent older siblings they seemed to be keeping a watchful eye over the novice yours truly. There is much to learn from their example.

Regan did a great job landing in some tricky wind. I've never been in a plane skidding sideways on the runway. Actually, I didn't know they could even do that. I'll venture to say that most people would prefer to skip the experience altogether.

So it's not always a stellar session. There's lots for me to practice. There's even more for me to learn. I've never kidded myself that getting a pilot's license would be quick. But I think you never really get a sense of how long a thing will take until you start getting into the thick of it, much like running a marathon I suppose. I've never run one but do jog and exercise. Sometimes in those arenas my body sends me messages like, "we would like to stop now" which I almost always ignore. No voices are speaking as such here. But the whole notion that this stuff doesn't come easy perhaps speaks in a related voice. It speaks of an epistemological distance that I think is important to make peace with as I settle in for the longer haul.

My hope is that being aware of the distance will encourage me to be more wary of stupid moves like random sprints and crams at wisdom before lessons, taking deep breaths, even walking a bit if my mental diaphragm aches. I can tell you this, however, a set of running shoes like these would improve ride quality significantly.

This is a Pilatus PC-12. Like a Rolex, it's Swiss made and expensive ($3 million on average ... used) . I'd taken a photo of this plane a while back but didn't know what it was at the time. I also just picked up a Canon Powershot A590 this week, so I'm a bit snap happy. The plane is particularly noteworthy as it's the largest single engine turboprop I (or any private pilot) can fly without special certification. It can take nine passengers and fly at commercial aviation speeds. It's gorgeous, fast, comfortable ... and one that I will likely never fly.

So what. Here's an eight mega pixel shot of my gal.

Just as cute as she ever was.

Behold ...

2008-11-09T23:51:00.041-05:00

I originally wanted to title this entry, "Practice makes perfect." But in reality, my success today flying had little to do with practice. Ok, maybe more than a little but given that I only fly once per week and don't use flight simulator software I think there's also something else at work. Certainly going over the same maneuver repeatedly helps, much like learning a language or musical instrument. But it's not like I've done these things hundreds or even dozens of times yet.

Ironically, this past week I had absolutely no time to review my flight lessons, textbook or videos. I was a bit worried about this yesterday to tell you the truth. But towards the end of the day I began to wonder if just really trying to apply what I already know along with some basic common sense might get me farther along. I've been all about "learning" on many fronts these days. I read Java docs, create classes and methods. I yawn my way through old math textbooks. I chuckle along to instructional flight videos. I think often about my world, trying to see where I can improve my kung fu both mentally and physically as well as in many less tangible ways.

The fact is, I knew that today would be a review. I know how to take off, turn, climb, descend, use flaps to fly at a snail's pace, and pull out of a power off stall. I may not know all these things like second nature, but I do know them. So today I decided I would just DO them. If nothing else, I was determined at least to try and do them correctly. I will move the yoke, press the rudder, apply throttle, set trim, and make the plane do what I want, dammit. I am after all the pilot. I think I've actually been over thinking and perhaps a bit overly preoccupied with too narrow a focus towards learning all this stuff.

Driving out to the airport is always a joy. My route winds through some lovely Virginia countryside. After some twists and turns through tree-lined two lane, the road opens up into a vast expanse of sky as you near all the clear, flat land around the airport. The Blue Ridge rise majestically to the West. This time of year through most of the afternoon the sun is usually hanging low in the sky above, making an almost endlessly slow decent. The clouds often paint lovely brush strokes in random directions all over the surrounding sky.

The ante was upped immediately upon my arrival at CFC. Regan told me straight out that it was bumpy up there today. My old nemesis had seemingly returned to spar with my new "just do it" mentality. Even more challenging, there was a crosswind. I already knew this posed some issues for takeoff. Regan explained quite clearly, however, that all it really means is doing everything I have already been doing, plus one more thing. Simply put, you pre-compensate by keeping tabs on the wind's relative direction (the flight compass has a marker for this) and turning the yoke completely into or away from it. It's an odd feeling powering up to full throttle cruising rapidly down the runway with your hand on the yoke fully turned to one side. It triggers the automobile driver inside me who wants to turn the wheel back in order to control where I'm going. Nope. It's all feet. But as the plane accelerates and you approach takeoff speed you start to ease off on the crosswind compensation. The plane is actually pointed somewhat sideways as you leave the ground. You're flying in a straight line (if you're doing it right) but the plane is slightly off axis as you adjust for wind trying to blow you in different direction. Neat.

We went over some of the same routines today. I would like to get quicker at my pre flight inspection so that I'll have more time in the air. At the same time, it's not something you want to rush through. Specifically, it becomes about efficiency. I'd like to remember to take out the stepping stool first so I can check the fuel, pour it back through the caps on top of each wing, then physically inspect the fuel levels. Similarly, I'd like to get a better flow of checking the flaps, then piano wires on the aileron hinges, then look back at the wing's surfaces, instead of going back and forth. I refuse to time myself because that starts getting into the rushed mentality. But the idea of efficient flow is one I'm gonna stick to.

Apparently I did quite well at maneuvering the plane today. Getting the flaps down and flying slowly went well as did pulling out of a stall. Flying is so incredibly analog with a very sensitive and potentially unforgiving interface. But within that sensitivity lies a unique degree of autonomy. You never have full control, nature does. But you do have some input into what's going on. You can use as much of it as you like. So in the face of what you could consider complete helplessness, you also have great power. It will bite you if you abuse it and slap you if you don't. I'm reminded of the phrase from the Upanishads about the razor's edge. Piloting is so very much about precisely that.

I had a real feeling of being at the controls. I don't want to say I was "in charge." But I was determined from the outset and seem to have successfully asserted what the engineers of the Cessna 172 can provide. Move this and go there. Move it more and go there more. Combine those movements correctly, watch what you're doing, and you can actually do it right ... insofar as there is such a thing.

We did practice one new maneuver that was quite fun: correcting for a takeoff made with too high an angle of attack. Thankfully, I perform all my practice at altitude. It is practice after all and having the ground 100ft beneath me would seriously reduce the margin for error. So while up in the air you slow the plane down, then simulate takeoff by applying full throttle and pointing the nose of the plane almost straight up into the sky until the screaming stall warning starts to sing. As they say around here, yee haw. Correction comes simply by pointing the nose back down while maintaining a climb. Easy, and like I said, fun.

My relationship with the evil little ball is getting better. I'm learning more about what coordinated flight really means. It's not just about keeping the plane nicely lined up and preventing it from pitching, yawing and rolling to and fro. It's also, and perhaps more, about giving input through one control and then using another to compensate or compliment what you're trying to do. So if the wind is blowing you one way, forcing evil little ball to one side, you apply rudder to that side AND compensate with the yoke. In retrospect I want to say "duh of course." But for some reason this aspect of coordination dawned on me today much more than previously. In taking action to affect change, multiple aspects of control must be applied.

So all in all a good day. Regan said it was my best lesson yet. I had absolutely no problem with the turbulence. Until next time, nemesis. See what you get for not doing your homework? Well that's not completely true. Sometimes you do your homework in other ways. Sometimes when it's showtime you wing it confidently based on the work you've already done. I guess the trick is knowing when you can in fact do that versus when doing so is potential folly. Sometimes you "just do it" but also need some idea of exactly what to do. As I got the plane set up for landing, not something I can do yet, it started to hit me again that while incredibly fun, rewarding and more wonderful than I had ever imagined, flying isn't a game. Or if you want to call it that, it's a serious one.

Ok, now for the obligatory photo shoot. That sexy Avanti was on the ground as I walked out to inspect my plane. Man, if this plane were a woman, I'd marry it. The picture sadly comes nowhere close. I'm almost tempted to buy a real camera just so I can snap shots of this machine.

But by the same token all planes are beautiful, just like people, right? Ok, maybe not. But my little bird really is. The Cessna 172 that's been helping me learn so much is a cute little gal with no hidden surprises, unlike some I've known. She's got heart, character and class. Never pretends to be something she's not. See for yourself:

What makes her beautiful isn't just the shiny white paint or speedy stripes down her side, but the overall design, built in safety, cotter pins holding nuts in place, vinyl seats, ample engine power, cruise speed of around 130mph, location of the flight instruments, feel of the controls, the fact that she's almost forty years old, still going strong, and has likely taught hundreds of people to fly. Beauty perhaps really is in the eye of the beholder.

Message for Mr. Obama

2008-11-07T11:58:00.030-05:00

I've been on the fence about writing anything related to the recent election. Like so many, I'm very glad that Barack Obama will be our next president. But also like a few, I remain cautiously optimistic. What is required to really change so many globally unhealthy directions will take a tremendous amount of work. People (ie., the nation) don't change that quickly. But perhaps "the long road" that Barack spoke of is something we will actually start walking down now. I can only hope the pendulum of our collective short attention span doesn't forget that this will take a long time, longer than one season of American Idol.

A clear, new and bold direction seems both obvious and necessary. FDR helped build highways, bridges and dams. What might be the 21st century equivalent? Perhaps a truly new infrastructure beckons. Wouldn't you like to ride in a space elevator? We need some fundamentally different ways of thinking about technology, energy, people, transportation, exploration, science, and our ability to reach way beyond ourselves. Space is called the final frontier for a reason. Among the most wondrous things President Elect Obama cited that Ann Nixon Cooper had seen in her life were when "a man touched down on the moon" and "a world was connected by our own science and imagination." Please, Mr. President, tap into the latent human energy, inspiration and drive that currently all lay so dormant. Help them give this and future generations even more wondrous and amazing things to see. Help us forge nothing less than our very own mythology. There are millions of jobs to be created (people can more easily afford health care with good jobs), boundless discoveries, innovation for energy, medicine, and countless ways to improve every single glorious facet of our human existence.

Here is one example of what I feel is an excellent start in the right direction.

Space Solar Power: Limitless Clean Energy from Space

It's one of the most poignant examples of "thinking outside the box" I've heard about in a while. Aside from the video link above, which I think is amazing, they have a website. The Washington Post even picked up an editorial on the subject recently.

One of the personal reigns I've taken up in the hope that "yes we can" is precisely this, the rhetoric (in the best sense of the term) needed to help people look up to the skies and see more, to get in touch with the deep knowledge that we are a part of that shimmering twinkling tapestry. It is one of our great destinies to reach out to it and explore. As our ancestors stepped out of the ocean and walked on land so must we now resume our steps up to the Cosmos. Quite possibly, if we play our cards right, it might even help us in the process.

First take off...

2008-11-02T22:01:00.022-05:00

Colleagues and I have been out of town celebrating Twenty Years of Play over the last few days. Hence I haven't had a ton of time to review and brush up on recent flight lessons. The inherent mania of helping put on live electronic music shows is also still coursing through my blood along with a few other things I'm sure.

So I didn't feel as though I had my A game on at the outset today while we reviewed flying at slow speed and learned how to pull out of a zero power stall. Yes, that's where you cut power to the engine and the plane actually starts to plummet out of the sky! Ok, just kidding. Stalling is a misleading term. It's when the airflow over the wing is disrupted enough so that it is no longer generating lift. There's an hysterical screaming (analog) siren that announces a stall. I'm sure the sound is actually not quite so funny to most ... with good reason. But the thing does literally start to scream and crackle like a hoarse vocalist the worse the stall becomes.

Neither of these maneuvers are particularly difficult things to do. But both need to become second nature. Getting out of a stall or slow speed flight is basic training for pulling out of an aborted landing. Flying at slow speed is necessary for final approach. I never knew you could fly these planes at a crawling 40 mph.

After run up, where you rev the engine with the brakes on to test some key systems, Regan unexpectedly had me try my hand at taking off. But you see, I'm still learning how to steer the thing on the runway using my feet. The stick and yoke (a plane's version of a steering wheel) have absolutely no effect on what you do on the ground. It's an odd feeling but I'm getting used to it.

For some reason I just assumed it would be a while before I could actually steer the thing at full throttle down the runway. Trial by fire works sometimes I guess. After all systems checked out, I confirmed with Regan that both he and the plane were in fact insured and away we went. Without any major fanfare or commotion I managed to successfully take off. Before I knew it we were airborne. Cool. It's actually much easier than I thought.

Lots of bright yellow trees on the ground today.

I'm starting to settle in. My routine involves showing up at CFC, picking up the keys and "the can" (an aluminum binder with flight documentation), then heading out to the runway for external pre flight inspection of the plane. Through practice it is getting easier and I'm not so concerned that I've missed some lose bolt or frayed cable. I actually enjoy looking over the plane. It also gives me a chance to spy around and drool. As I strolled out onto the runway today I was met by this lovely bird, clearly marked as a military plane.

I originally thought it was some beautifully restored WWII fighter. But then I noticed the modern looking landing gear and composite material propeller. It turns out this is a T34 Mentor trainer aircraft, a very muscular looking plane. Given that my tax dollars helped pay for the thing I wonder if they'd let me take it for a quick spin?

Ain't so easy ...

2008-10-26T21:24:00.041-04:00

They call it "coordinated flight" for a reason. Keeping all three of your dimensional axes both correct and somewhat stable is a balancing act I am definitely still learning. In all humility and despite my recent tackle football episode with a Honda, I consider myself a pretty physically coordinated guy. I've always loved and related to machines intimately: bigwheels, cars, bikes, motorcycles, boats, even my lawn mower. But man, I had a real challenge today keeping things nice and smooth. Granted, it was a bit more bumpy than usual. Maybe I'm just being hard on myself.

I think the main problem is yaw, using the rudder, and this evil little ball. The thing is, you don't get to concentrate on just one thing, ever. It's hard to explain precisely what it's like and even harder to do so in a compelling way that will make anybody care. You see, a car really only has one axis of rotation: the vertical. A plane has three. Even more challenging is the fact that while flying you really aren't "connected" to anything (eg., like the road). You're suspended in a fluid medium that can itself move in any direction it chooses at any time. Yes, it does have a mind of its own. So as you try to point up or bank in a particular direction, other forces are messing with your trying to keep things all lined up and nicely balanced. Bastards. The result is sometimes lots of pitching, rolling and yawing back and forth as you try to control the plane and execute a move, then over or under compensate the correct response needed to make things move where you want. If "they" really don't like you, you are quickly reminded that despite millions of years of evolution humans have not really been physically engineered to fly. The inner ear definitely feels like a bit of a design flaw at times.

I think part of the problem may also be that I can't actually grab the controls properly (yes, I need excuses). You fly with your left hand. Mine happens to still be in a cast and gripping the handle firmly with it isn't easy. I'm hoping the x-rays tomorrow will show enough healing so that I can get the damn thing off. Ok, I shouldn't damn it. It's likely kept my hand properly immobilized enough so my bones can heal. But still, it will be nice to actually hold the stick and have a real feel for the plane.

We took up the little 152 again today. Cute plane but I must say the reduced weight and power make it a bit of a challenge when things get a bit more bumpy. For some reason I'm still shy with the throttle too. Who knows why. Today's lesson reviewed external pre-flight and began my learning internal checklists including engine run-up. I know, fascinating. I also attempted to improve my actual flying chops by controlling velocity while maintaining altitude, using flaps, and trying to keep that cursed little inclinometer ball between the lines. We also practiced steering the plane while on the runway (taxiing). It's done with your feet. No hands, mom. Not at all intuitive for anyone used to a steering wheel.

Maybe I've been reading too much Java documentation. The darn things are mind numbing. Go ahead, see for yourself. Word for word more powerful than horse tranquilizers. Last time I was waxing on about this beautiful dance flying is. I guess mamma nature just felt very much like leading today as I tried out some new steps. I am, after all, by comparison just a little boy with two left feet.

I'll close out with some soft plane porn because blogs need pictures, right? I'm pretty sure this is a Long EZ kit, designed by the aviation pioneer Mr. Burt Rutan himself (of Space Ship One fame) back in 1976. People are still making them. Amazing to think of actually building your own plane from a kit.

So that's about it. Flying takes practice and work, surprise surprise. Having blogged about some of my frustrations I feel better and more relaxed. A famous JFK speech is now beginning to play in my head. "We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy..."

Rinse & repeat w/ eyes on the prize...

2008-10-22T21:31:00.039-04:00

Unlike riding a bicycle, flying doesn't necessarily come right back to you when you haven't done it in a while, at least not at my level. It's been more than two weeks since I've flown last. Didn't bring a notepad to my last lesson and the instructional DVDs are a bit different from Regan's technique. So there were some gaps in my knowledge of pre-flight exterior plane inspection.

Have I mentioned how funny the instructional software and DVDs are? The introductory video clips make me feel like I'm at Disney World. Imagine Mickey Mouse (in human form) explaining "angle of attack." Ok, maybe that's mean. They're great videos. The people at Cessna are clearly dedicated and make some of the finest machines in the world. They've also brought flight pedagogy to new and wonderful levels. I'm just trying to be funny.

Regan's method of circumnavigating the plane definitely passes my own flavor of logical thoroughness, which I humbly contend can at times be formidable. Unlike a car, if your engine (or anything else) fails in the air things can get a bit complicated. So you want to make sure that at least the basics (of which there are many) are in working order. Plus I'm all about safety these days. Much like making a good mint julep, there's the standard recipe and those with subjective modifications to help improve the art form.

The Cessna 172s we normally fly weren't available. So we took up a smaller bird, a 152. I imagine we looked pretty funny, two grown men in leather jackets crammed into this tiny plane shoulder to shoulder. Must have resembled something out of an old Hanna-Barbera cartoon. But it's what we had. Here she is:

Aside from pre-flight routines, I also needed to refresh my turning, climbing and descending skills. I'll confess I didn't remember all the details involving the latter two right off the bat. Eventually and somewhat quickly I think it all came back to me though. The 152 definitely took much longer to climb. At times I could almost hear it saying, "I think I can. I think I can. I think I can!"

But the skies surely made up for what this little plane may have lacked. Today was an after work lesson. So we flew as the sun set over the Blue Ridge. Unfortunately I wasn't able to snap a picture. The sky was gorgeous and the foliage we could see over northern Albemarle County beautiful. Flying remains a joy. Holding the controls and feeling yourself connected to a machine that through extension of your hands and feet gently pushes against the air to let you move in any direction you wish is a unique experience to say the least. You can feel the wind, which is to say the earth, push back. It is truly an amazing dance.

That being said, I keep internally looking ahead. Who knows why. Shame on me. I should learn to be more content with the now. But maybe it's because I grew up in northern New Jersey and my second car was a candy apple red 1970 GTO with enough torque to perform basic chiropracty. Perhaps there's something innate inside all of us that wants to go faster and farther. Who knows, it may just be evolution speaking through every fiber in my being constantly wanting to improve.

Sadly as recent economic events clearly illustrate, this tendency for "more" can sometimes lead to excess. To that I reply with the immortal words of our forty first president.

Read my lips, "I want to fly it." I don't care if it takes new taxes (or a government bailout).

You can't always get what you want ...

2008-10-19T15:47:00.024-04:00

Colors burst from around every corner these days here in Charlottesville. In fact, every time I open my front door.

Needless to say I was anxious to see what the trees would look like from about six thousand feet. The weather seemed perfectly clear without a cloud in the sky. Looks can be deceiving I guess. When I arrived at CFC Regan told me he had just come down and it was in fact very bumpy up there, apparently a level or two beyond what I've experienced before. I tried to suggest this might be a great time to see if I can cut it. But since I haven't flown in about two weeks and had that unfortunate initial episode years ago he decided it was best for me not to fly. I trust his judgement. Another instructor, Dick, who owns the flight school came by later and said the same thing. Most importantly, I'd likely spend the entire lesson fighting to keep control of the plane and not actually learning anything new. I guess the elders know a thing or two.

They call it Clear Air Turbulence (CAT). I call it bummer (BUMMER). I really was looking forward to flying today. Patience, it would seem, can be tested in infinite ways.

But the fates were not completely stingy. I got my flight kit complete with: syllabus, twenty nine DVD multimedia set, textbook, Pilot's Operating Handbook (POH) for the Cessna 172 (kind of like an owner's manual), Practical Standards Test (the stuff I need to know for my "final"), my very own flight log, carrying bag and (finally) my own headset. I know, very exciting stuff.

The reality of precisely how much information I'm going to have to absorb and process is starting to set in. On the one hand, the introductory party is over. But on the other, the main event is about to begin. Apparently if you try sometimes ... you might find ... you get what you need. Like it or not.

Start spreadin' the news ...

2008-10-13T13:40:00.028-04:00

Technically, I did fly this weekend. Unfortunately I wasn't at the controls. On Friday I boarded a commercial flight to spend the weekend with family in NJ. As I had suspected, being a passenger isn't quite the same now that I know a bit more about what's going on in the cockpit and with air traffic.

First of all, let me say that these guys really know their stuff. Angles of pitch, yaw and roll were consistently flawless. I guess practice really does make perfect. Either that or they have really great autopilot software running.

While I've always known that the skies above NYC were crowded, I have a completely new appreciation for how difficult and potentially dangerous landing an aircraft in the area must be. I mean, keeping track of and looking for nearby planes is something I definitely pay extreme attention to even here in Cville, especially when the tower makes an announcement. Believe it or not, it's not so easy to spot one. There are dozens if not hundreds more planes in the air above the city that never sleeps.

At night, you would think the task is a bit easier since flight beacons help illuminate position. But the metropolitan night sky is littered with millions of twinkling man-made objects that easily hide a plane's flashers and lamps. I'm surprised (as well as both impressed and thankful) that there aren't more mid-air collisions.

When you really stop and think about it, we all take so much about air travel for granted. Statistically, it's much safer than driving. The machines are sometimes more than twenty years old. Coordinating the entire sequence of events is a ballet with the highest of risks performed routinely with very little observable fuss or muss in all types of weather, sometimes even with blindfolds on. The show always goes on. The industry and people behind it all deserve many pats on the back. Perhaps not the executives, but I think you get my point.

As an aside ... my proud American DNA tells me that I should respectfully remind everyone that we pioneered both this technology and industry [insert cheesy smileyface].

When talking to my folks about my flying lessons this weekend they were both concerned about my renting planes to fly up for future visits. I tried to explain, and think I was partially successful, that there is a significant amount of training necessary before that happens. It's not like getting a driver's license and surely not like driving a car. Even at an accelerated pace, I'm likely looking at several more months. Patience is a difficult, if not necessary, virtue to practice in this case. I hope to schedule a lesson before this coming Sunday so I don't fall too far behind. Plus I'm excited to get my "kit" including texts, flight simulator software and shiny new headset.

The above is a view from my old stomping grounds less than a block from the house where I grew up. I really can't explain how much I'm looking forward to greeting skyscrapers from more of an eye-to-eye level next Spring. Their majesty has been part of my personal mythos since I was born. How often do you get to climb Mt. Olympus and have a chat with the locals?

Gaining altitude ...

2008-10-05T16:30:00.038-04:00

Today was another picture perfect Fall day here in central Virginia ... seventy degree weather with barely a cloud in the sky. Flying was absolutely spectacular. It's become the ideal Sunday activity for me. The worst part about it ... is when it's time to land.

Regan walked me through some of the more nitty gritty aspects of being a pilot, namely the pre-flight check routines. It's both reassuring as well as impressive the level of logic and detail that has obviously gone into these checklists over the years. They're such complicated machines and the risks are clearly much higher when you're up several thousand feet in the air. Going through the list was a bit like stepping back through time for me, thinking of all the would be pilots who have gone through this before me and all those who have contributed to the list. The plane we flew today was another Cessna 172, this one made in 1973. She had just been washed and was beaming sparkly white as we walked around her. The picture, sadly, doesn't do her justice. I forgot to save the close up original so I snuck one from outside the runway as I walked to my car.

Our main pre flight focus today was the plane's exterior and things related. You want to be very sure that nothing is broken or cracked, no rivets missing, and all the control surfaces properly attached and moving smoothly, etc... Of course there's more to it than that. I will be getting my very own pilot "kit" soon which will have it all spelled out in great detail ... as well as my very own headset!

Flight was about practicing some of what I learned last time (ie., turning) combined with climbing and descending. Turning was more about picking headings and setting landmarks than before. As I'm discovering, it's not simply a matter of moving the stick, but rather a coordinated sequence of events, that much like a dancer learning new steps must be repeated slowly and methodically until they become more second nature. So, for example, a climb is executed by first altering pitch (ie., pointing the nose upward), applying full power to the engine then adjusting pitch so that your airspeed is between 80-90mph for the most efficient climb. You wouldn't intuitively think of pitch angle as controlling velocity. A descent involves first turning on the carburetor heater (so it doesn't freeze), then reducing engine power, not necessarily pushing down on the yoke. I'm starting to notice more and more the unexpected, cross-linked physical events that happen in 3D space to a fllying machine. Both of these maneuvers also have "finishing moves" that you implement to regain level flight and original airspeed. It's awesome.

Like many new pilots, I began to get into the bad habit of staring more at the instruments than looking out the window. Trying to keep a level turn, maintain rate of climb, etc ... can be tricky to coordinate. The dials help somewhat but as Regan pointed out it's much more fun to look outside. I can after all get the former from any number of software packages. Balancing my eye time between the two (about a 1:4 ratio) will be my goal for the coming weeks. I love the idea of coordinated balance that seems to permeate all aspects of flying. So far so good. I'll leave you with some plane porn from the runway and hangar adjacent to the flight school.

This is a smaller plane used to get a sport pilot license. It's a cheaper license but only allows you to fly this small class of aircraft. Cute little thing.

This next one, the Rockwell Commander, falls more to the other end of the spectrum. It's much more "plane" than the others, has a larger engine, retractable landing gear, a three blade prop, and is generally a larger and a more comfortable aircraft. The flight center rents it for $165 an hour. You can bet I'll be getting my hands on the controls as soon as I can. In many ways it's even more plane than my previous object of lust, the Cirrrus SR22. Sadly, this picture doesn't even come close.

While taxiing from landing we passed one of these, a Piaggio P180 Avanti II. As we say online ... oh em gee. I didn't get to snap a photo but found one easily online. It's an eye tearingly beautiful plane, and apparetnly the fastest prop plane manufactured today (cruise speed of 400mph). I could swear you can feel the Italian design influence eminating from every line. It even has it's own Wikipedia entry.

I wasn't able to get the names of the following aircraft, but they're all cool to me. Planes sometimes strike me as diverse bird species.

I can start to imagine how Darwin felt when he first hit the Galapagos.

Happy 50th Birthday, NASA ...

2008-10-01T11:37:00.018-04:00

Just a short note ... and link to a very nice article from one of my favorite websites:

http://www.gizmag.com/nasa-50th-anniversary/10099/

Sad quote from the article: "Despite consuming a fraction of a percent of the annual budget, NASA is forced to beg for every penny."

Inspiring quote from the article: "When Apollo 11 landed on July 20, 1969, one fifth of the world’s population watched the moonwalk on television." That's about 600 million people. Remember that not nearly as many had TVs in 1969 and there was no such thing as cable.

To help put it in perspective, the IRS was founded in 1862. Their annual budget last year was about $11 billion compared to $17 billion for NASA . I wonder what the Feds do with all their money, which is being spent so ... they can collect money. Maybe they're waiting until their 150th to really hit a stride.

Of course no budget commentary is complete these days without reminding everyone of the $12 billion per month we spend in Iraq or the proposed $700 billion bailout plan for ridiculously wealthy executive screw ups, which could have instead funded NASA for the next 41 years.

The truly hardcore ...

2008-09-30T23:54:00.002-04:00

Not much to report here, just waiting for my next lesson this coming Sunday. Don't have time to fly this Thursday as some friends are playing a gig in town and I've agreed to run sound. They have some great original tunes and it drives me completely insane when people can't hear the vocals and properly balanced instrumentation ... simply because the PA system isn't properly manned. It takes a hardness of core to write music and play it in front of a crowd. The least I can do is help ensure that it sounds good from an acoustic perspective.

But in the meantime, here's an article from the frontier of the truly hard core flightmasters. Ladies and gentlemen, I present Mr. Yves Rossy:

http://www.gizmag.com/fusionman-completes-historic-channel-crossing/10086/

Holy effin' crap.

Oh and yes, yes, yes, oh yes ... I definitely want one.

Like a leaf on a stream ...

2008-09-28T15:00:00.002-04:00

I wasn't sure I'd make it on time today for my 12 noon flight lesson. Preparing, hosting, and thoroughly enjoying a going away party late into last night made getting up this morning a bit of a challenge. But the weather seemed just cooperative enough so I figured I would meet it half way.

Dick, my previous flight instructor, can't teach me on Sundays. So I was just a tad bit apprehensive about flying with someone else. Thankfully my new instructor, Regan Stooutermire, was great. We chatted a bit as he walked me through the initial pre-flight inspection of the plane. Here's a snapshot of the lil' bird.

I think the plane was built in the late 1970s or 1980s. Strange to think how aircraft, machines an entire order of magnitude more complicated than automobiles, are designed to last for decades and routinely serve even longer tours of duty with shining colors. The car industry has us hoodwinked folks. Anyhow, the little Cessna might not be as sexy as the Cirrus or an F16 but she surely does the job.

As we sat on the runway the wind began to pick up. My still not entirely vanquished fear from my initial flight experience began to tap me on the shoulder. Regan assured me it wouldn't be a big problem. I could swear a stronger breeze would kick up each time he said that. Regardless, we strapped in and got ready to go up. Here's a view from my (ie., the Pilot's) seat.

Lots of dials and gauges there. I'm still learning how to read them all properly, sometimes only using the corner of my eyes. The one to the middle left, for example, is actually designed to help you make smooth and proper turns. Second from the top right is the altimeter. Notice how the Cville airport runway is already at about 900 feet? Anyhow, you can read all about the controls lots of places online.

As we took off, we hit a few bumps and I could feel my breakfast starting to say hello. I reached for a handful of ginger gum chicklets. Regan sensed what was going on and offered some words of wisdom that his flight instructor had given him years ago: "Think of yourself like a leaf on a stream." Somehow this really resonated with me in that moment. Either that or the ginger gum had an immediate effect. I feel, however, that the truth in those words might be mined almost infinitely. The plane is basically drifting through a fluid with various flows and currents, much like a stream. Those currents also follow the contour of the land ... as well as many other more complicated variables. But the point is that you do keep flowing, regardless of the bumps, just like a leaf making its way down a mountain aqueduct. The idea was (and is) somehow very reassuring. The turbulence we hit subsequently affected me less and less, eventually not bothering me at all.

Here's a snapshot out the window:

I can only imagine how things will look as the fall foliage turns. Apparently you are allowed to fly over the Shenandoah and Blue Ridge.

Armed with my new found, somewhat zen, philosophy I was able to take the controls for the better part of an hour. We practiced 90 and 180 degree turns, as well as getting a sense of how throttle controls altitude. Regan had me follow the James river for a while, pick Scottsville as a landmark and fly over to it (very cool to pick a city as a landmark and just "fly over to it"), and basically just cruise around the area between Cville, Lake Monticello and Scottsville. We kept a modest speed of 120mph but I can definitely feel my thirst for more coming on strong.

All in all, today was the best flight experience I've ever had in my life. Regan tells me I did very, very well and that I have good respect for the controls, which by the way are extremely sensitive to movement and must be treated with great care and gentility. I'm already looking forward to next week and curious if I can bring some of the lofty, leaf-floating philosophy back down to earth here with me.

Can't control the weather ... but you can get space age polymers ...

2008-09-27T13:20:00.002-04:00

I hadn't anticipated how frequently flight school would need rescheduling. The weather, despite having been amazingly consistent all summer, simply isn't cooperating. I'm not complaining, just learning to accept this as another dimension of the project. I'll likely have to continue switching around days to fly. I was supposed to go up last Thursday but the weather was terrible. Now I'm set for tomorrow and the weather at this point looks a bit iffy. So we'll see.

On another note, I am the proud owner of some incredible space age polymers: my new cast! It was amazing to watch my doctor put it on. He pulled out this tiny little bag with a blue spool of fiberglass (or whatever this magical stuff is), ran it under some water, then wrapped it around the gauze already positioned on my wrist and arm. In less than five minutes the wrap was hard as as rock. Amazing. There is no doubt in my mind that this technology has come to us from aerospace composite material research.

Sorry, my cell phone doesn't take the best images, but it's all I've got for now. I want more of this stuff. You could make anything out of it. I could, for example, make my very own little mechanical Iron Man (or Fiberglass Man) suit. Oh, and I checked with CFC, it seems as though I can in fact fly with a broken hand. Well, at least I can *try* to fly with a broken hand and not violate any FAA rules.

If only I could attach a wrist mounted rocket launcher to my arm, then we'd have some real fun. Yeah. ;-)

Unexpected ...

2008-09-23T01:01:00.001-04:00

Life can be so very strange. Last week there were, at least in my mind, simply two possible posts I would make on this blog: my test flight was fantastic ... or ... I just couldn't deal with it and flying is simply out of the question for me. You would think I'm old and barely wise enough to know that there are always alternatives.

Before flying at Charlottesville Flight Center last Thursday, I actually took a slightly different test flight of sorts. Specifically, about twenty feet or so over the hood, windshield and roof of an older honda civic. While biking home at maximum velocity down the center lane (in between the double lines) of a two lane road full of commuters and undergraduate students, I locked horns with the left side of the automobile and went soaring and tumbling overhead.

Sadly I've already thrown away my helmet, but have been told that instead I should have made a shrine to it that I'd ideally bow to every morning in thanks for my ability to walk and breathe. I guess I'm doing that in part here.

After torquing myself, I asked the driver of the car I pummeled to give me a ride home so I could make it to my intoductory test flight. I guess I was so wired on adrenaline that I didn't really notice my shattered fifth metacarpal bone and separated shoulder.

The flight was absolutely fantastic. My instructor, Dick Yates, was wonderful. Part of what made it such an amazing and easy flight was the fact that there wasn't a single bump of turbulence. It seems as though the "other" flight school I checked out years ago made a mistake taking me (a complete novice) up in the air on a bumpy day. Dick explained that you simply can't do that. Turbulence is something you get better at dealing with over time.

I can't explain how easy and effortless it was to fly around up there. Granted, these are my first baby steps, but I'm happy to report that Dave 2.0, complete with broken hand and other injuries, was able to go up and fly a Cessna 172, one of the most popular trainers in the world. That being said, when I got down, my eyes began to wander. I love planes. I think they're amazingly sexy. It would seem as though there's a new supermodel on the block, the Cirrus SR22. A North Carolina based "sky taxi" service had one sitting on the runway at CFC. Sadly, I didn't have a camera at the ready. But here's a snapshot for you:

The image makes it hard to appreciate the gracious flowing lines of the machine. It's largely a composite structure, not aluminum. So naturally it has a more fluid body. It's also lighter and more powerful than your average single engine plane. It also encorporates some innovations like a side mounted stick (freeing up more console space for ... sexy ... instrument gages) and yes, believe it or not, a parachute. No, not for the pilots and passengers, but for the plane!

I want one, plain and simple.

Odd, I thought this post entry was going to be very different. But there ya go.

Take two (or three) ... what dreams may become

2008-09-17T10:52:00.001-04:00

Work and life have been keeping me very busy with not much time to mentally wander around flying headspace. I'm rescheduled for tomorrow, 9/18. The weather forecast shows clear skys and low chance of precipitation so I am about to enter the chute, finally.

I find myself getting a slight bit anxious today but also somewhat excited about the prospect of winning this small personal victory. Learning how to fly has been so much of a dream that it's actually quite difficult for me to consider it as a reality. I'm curious to see what happens when dreams become so. My first (real first) attempt years ago turned into a nightmare. But I am not the same person I was then, thankfully.

When I think about it, I wonder how many people actually get to make their dreams into reality. Often, it involves a considerable amount of effort (which I know I am just about to begin), luck, and often an insane level of persistence. The I Ching has a great line that repeats in many hexagrams:

"Perseverence furthers..."

I'll have to ponder more on the subject, because I think part of our global malaise is that nobody buys into the dream of a better world anymore. Even Obama's rhetoric seems cooled as of late as we gear up for the slugfest of the final days.

This is, again, one of the reasons I feel so strongly about things like the space program. It gives people hope. When an astronaut (or cosmonaut) goes up into orbit, we all go up in a sense. They represent us, all of us, perhaps even life in general to the extent that it has evolved from simple single celled structures. I often like to think of our leaving the planet as somewhat akin to our ancient ancestors taking those first few steps out of the ocean.

In any case, DT 2.0 alloy stress test #1 coming up. The clock is ticking, about 31 hours to wheels up. Let's see if all my mumbo jumbo is worth the disk space.

Grounded

2008-09-12T10:16:00.000-04:00

Well, I got grounded yesterday. The cloud ceiling was at 1300 feet and raining. Apparently the minimum for newbie flights is 1500 feet.

Just as well, I wasn't in the best frame of mind yesterday anyhow. I somehow seriously injured my knee last week. My doctor says it's a patellofemoral injury (aka runner's knee). I have been working out insanely hard on the machine as well as biking to work every day and jogging four miles every other. Last Thursday was a particularly strenuous jog and Sunday a ridiculously ambitious bike ride around town.

It's annoying not to be able to bike or jog. Even worse, we had a very long "tech persons" meeting yesterday that simply would not die. Somehow it put me in a really bad mood for the rest of the day. The fact that the meeting room was freezing cold (seriously ... beyond reason) didn't help.

So perhaps getting grounded is a blessing in disguise. We're re-scheduled for next Wednesday. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

'Twas the night before flightmas ...

2008-09-11T00:31:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I've been starting to psych myself out about this. I've also been trying to psych myself up for it too. Delicate balancing act there. But the fact is, tomorrow will be a huge litmus test. It's been a rough summer, which like it or not has resulted in some deep changes in my life that quite simply severely needed to happen. I'm still getting somewhat used to the new me, physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally.

All of those get tested tomorrow.

I tried pushing the physical part on Sunday with an insane 1100 calorie (in 40 minutes) monster bike ride around the hills of Cville. Now, my right knee is in agony and makes disturbing snap, crackle, pop noises.

Let's hope tomorrow's test goes better.

I've been here before. I feel like I'm back in high school before a debate tournament. No, I feel like the night before the final rounds of a debate tournament. It's do or die tomorrow. Damn, I wish I had my old Rocky III soundtrack cassette and walkman.

When Fish Fly? Miles has left the house ...

2008-09-10T01:00:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure why this feels related, but it does, so I'm going to claim freedom of blogspression. I gave away my fish, Miles, yesterday. He was named after the great jazz musician, as he came into my world shortly after Davis died. I've had him for about seventeen years. At various times in my life I've felt an almost mystical connection with him. As he would thrive, so would I, and vice versa.

Back in my early twenties, I really enjoyed having a fish tank. The cool glow of an illuminated tank always added a special quality to any room. Plus, still learning how to handle testosterone, I enjoyed having "arena tank" where you'd feed smaller live fish to larger ones and have all your friends come and watch. I also enjoyed the balancing act of filtration, plants and diverse species. At one point I had a Jack Dempsey, pleco, crayfish, and my catfish, Miles all in the same tank. Everybody had a job to do.

Miles is a pretty cool fish. We're not sure precisely what kind he is, but likely candidates are Synodontis Decorus or Shoutedeni. A problem with aquarium fish breeds is that cross breeding has been rampant and it's very difficult now to pin down specifics.

I remember bringing him home. One aspect of fish I've always enjoyed was their particular dexterity in three dimensional movement. Some fish lumber, others dart, and some have amazing kung fu like control over their position and velocity. Similarly, you can see how it's accomplished by their fin arrangement and thrust vectoring. Miles always reminded me of some kind of space battleship. I know that sounds wierd. But his primary three fin arrangement was pretty much at right angles, a bit different than most fish. He could stop on a dime, or rotate to any vector of his chosing. He also had a beautiful grey and black spotted color with obviously thick, tough skin.

Unlike some other fish I've owned, he was never aggressive (until he got old and grumpy). He was, however, tough and rarely intimdated by fish much larger than he was. All my other fish died for one reason or another. Eventually, it was just Miles. That's why he was the only one to survive and make it all the way down here to VA with me. I always had tremendous respect for his tenacity and vowed constantly to try and give him a happy, long life.

Over the last few years, however, his lonely situation in a somewhat algae ridden tank began to bother me. It felt wrong to keep a creature who could basically fly in his environment locked up in what was basically a tiny cell. Plants have been hard to keep. New fish are too small and he often didn't tolerate sharing his world. So I came to the conclusion a few months back that I need to either a) set him free or b) find him a good home. Research on a) didn't go very far and I don't see how an animal that has spent 99% of its life in captivity can survive well in the wild.

So I started putting up ads for b) a while back with mixed results, that is until this past weekend. A lovely woman who knows more about Synodontis catfish than I've ever heard about replied to a post. She has a 155 gallon tank with lots of other "like minded" fish. For reference, my tank is a 28 gallon. So I said my goodbyes and helped her get him into a bucket for rapid transport home. It seems as though he's doing well. Here's a snippet of an email:

"You're obviously an "anxious parent" so I'll do my best to keep you informed. I did about a forty minute drip into the bucket, and put our boy (girl?) into the tank. He sat in a corner for about five minutes, then started exploring. Kind of odd, and I've seen it before; they only go about as far as the footprint of the tank they were in last. Not quite the "Born Free" moment I'd been hoping for, but he finally decided to check out the other end of the tank, and found people just like him! He's eating well, cruising the length of the tank upside down and right side up , and basically doing nicely."

EDIT: update the day after...

"He's doing great! Dorsal is up; he's all over the tank, and eating like a pig. Life is good."

I'll post a pic of him in his new home when I get one from his new owner.

To some, this whole ordeal may sound insane. I mean, it's a fish. But I'd reply to all of them by saying that it's actually about respect for any and all living things, especially ones that can fly.

Target locked ...

2008-09-05T12:54:00.000-04:00

Learning to fly embodies a larger component of life for me than simply being able to get places more quickly and with a nicer view. I've actually tried the Be A Pilot intro flight once before. Sadly, it just didn't go very well. There was some combination of fear, motion sickness and an instructor who simply wasn't that experienced ... which all resulted in a pretty scary experience. I recall taking the controls and thinking "I'm gonna kill us all!"

That was several years ago. There are apparently some tricks in terms of keeping your head level with the cockpit dash, ginger root and stronger abdominal muscles (which I now have), that can all help mitigate what is apparently a common experience. Regardless, part of this process for me involves confronting fear. I don't fear death and have actually confronted it several times in my life already. This issue has more to do it seems with control over one's environment, or lack of it, yet still being able to function and (for lack of a better term) control the situation. For me it feels like a very Zen practice which I feel finally up to the challenge for.

So I've found the local master, Dick Yates, and we'll be going up this coming Thursday, September 11, at around 6pm.

http://www.flycfc.net/

Wish me luck.

Ground Zero

2008-09-01T23:50:00.006-04:00

Getting a pilot's license has been on my life's "to do" list for quite some time. I could go on and on about all the reasons why. Hopefully, that's what this blog will be all about.

Airplanes are glorious machines, arguably the most wonderful we as a species have ever conceived, let alone actually built. Flight enthralled the Italian futurists of the 1920s. F. T. Marinetti believed airplanes would reshape the future of humanity in a profoundly positive way. You can Google / Wikipedia all about it on your own. I humbly contend that the majority of their socially transformative power remains largely untapped.

I love examples of human ingenuity that stand in defiance of the impossible. Really I do. Consider the fact that the Wright Flyer I flew on December 17, 1903, an impressive feat. Less than forty four years later Chuck Yeager flew faster than the speed of sound. Pause for a moment, close your eyes, and think about that. Forty four years from sticks and cloth to the Bell X1.

It was, and still sometimes is, referred to as the sound BARRIER. People often forget that. Scientists and engineers at the time felt it was physically impossible to build a maneuverable machine that could effectively cut through supersonic airflow, hence the name. Pilots during WWII would sometimes hit this brick wall in nose dives, almost always resulting in catastrophe as their controls froze and they plunged to their deaths.

I can appreciate the apprehension given that it had only been a few decades since Orville and Wilbur rigged up some lumber, cloth and a very crude combustion engine to float along a few hundred feet. If they didn't have a 20+ mph headwind it may not have even happened. But the fact remains, they did it. We did it. Today, we have machines now that can fly twenty five times the speed of sound (ie., the Space Shuttle on reentry). The whole thing brings a tear to my eye when I really think about it.

A bit more personally (that's what blogs are about, right?) it has been a ridiculously hard summer for me on many levels. Actually, that's a complete understatement. Words simply fail. But ... I'm still here. As cliche as it may sound, what doesn't kill us (IF it doesn't kill us) really does make us stronger. The trick, as folks like Reiner Maria Rilke observe, is to allow the pain of the experience to enter us as something new ... that changes us. Ironically, that's exactly how alloys work and why they're stronger than pure metallic elements. So, self smithery has rapidly become a new hobby. I'll toss a bone here on that one:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alloy

As an aside, I'd like to point out that those fancy, superfast flying machines we know and love also make extensive use of exotic metal alloys.

I have absolutely no recollection of how the following came into my world. I missed out on the whole Grunge music thing in the 1990's. But somehow, almost randomly, a couple of months back one of Pearl Jam's biggest hits came on my radar. Like I said, I don't recall precisely how, but this blog owes its namesake to the tune.

Here's a particularly interesting video of the song performed live.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8ByjoK3VVc

Dancing sign language FTW!

I don't ever recall a time when a single piece of art has so elegantly described personal and emotional events in my life. The effect, along with others, has been so profound that I simply cannot ignore it and have been both inspired to write this blog as well as kick start the process of learning how to fly. Time will tell I guess.

The band seem to have quite a few songs that hit eerily close to home for me. Ironic. I know, many of my musicologist friends will cringe at the thought of my referencing Pearl Jam for any kind of wisdom. We can duke it out over some drinks. But anyhow, there ya go.