Sono un pilota

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

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

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 ...

But she's still the boss.

A video is worth a thousand pictures.

Slowdown Snowdown

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...

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 ...

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.

[Click the image below to see the pictures]

Oh and fasten your seat belts, please.

Beauty and the Beast

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

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

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 ...

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?

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...

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

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...

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 ...

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

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 ...

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 ...

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 ...

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.