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.
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.
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