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.