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.

Slippin' flarin' crabbin' and starin'

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 ...

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 ...

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 ...

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.