Thursday, September 19, 2013
New Certificate Received
Yesterday, I received my shiny new pilot certificate from the FAA that shows the added instrument rating. Looks nice in the pocket on my flight bag...
PIREP: A Shrink Flying in the sky with a Diamond (Apologies to the Beatles)
On September 6 and 13, I went up to KUGN to spend some time with one of the fine instructors at Skill Aviation in order to do some transition training with the Diamond Star DA-40. All told, I spent about 4 hours in the airplane and about another three in ground school discussion of the aircraft. Flying consisted of the usual suspects - steep turns, slow flight, stalls and take offs and landings. I made sure to slip in a trip around the patch from the grass strip at Burlington (KBUU) as well as three approaches and a hold to demonstrate IFR competency and G1000 practice. I always learn a ton from Jim when I fly with him, so it was definitely a good time.
The Diamond Star is an interesting plane. As you may know from my previous posts, I did nearly all of my private pilot training in the DA40's 2-seat little brother. I expected this one to be far roomier, but I am not sure I'd endorse that conclusion. It does afford the pilot and front-seat passenger a bit more elbow and knee room, but I think I need a few more hours in the plane before I can say that I feel comfortable with it. The Arrow is more comfortable for my tastes, but I confess that this could be familiarity. The control stick is always fun, though!
One of the nice things that Skill puts together is a nice packet of "aircraft profiles" in order to help the pilot memorize how to set up the aircraft for various maneuvers or phases of flight. Because I did my initial training here, this way of organizing information is quite familiar to me. The Diamond Star's prop and manifold pressure settings are pretty different from the Arrow's (and from every other aircraft I've ever flown), so I continue to work these into my head. I am used to dropping the MP to 17 inches to begin a descent in the pattern, but really the Diamond needs more like 11 or 12, and likes 13-17 for approaches - depending on the type of approach. Of course, individual results vary depending on all those external variables that affect ground speed.
This particular plane is equipped with a non-WAAS G1000. I have poured over the Sporty's video training on the G1000, have done a VFR transition previously in another aircraft, and even having solid knowledge of the Garmin 430 is very helpful. The last bit helps with understanding the logic of how the system works, though it still takes time to figure out where one should hunt and peck.
So, how does it fly?
The DA40 is a very docile plane. Strangely, one needs to rotate and get the plane flying much earlier than Vx, and one can expect some swearing from the stall horn. I can't bring myself to get out of ground effect earlier, which is of course fine. It is very responsive to control inputs and power changes, and will drop like a rock with full flaps and idle power... and like a bolder if one includes the forward slip. I am still working on altitude hold in this plane - I would just get it set up and then my tasks or needs would change. I had just gotten nice and stable, and Jim instructed me to remove my foggles so he could "do something." Yeah... that something was another simulated engine failure. We'd have lived each time, but even practice raises my pulse considerably.
Other than feeling a tad cramped, there are two big gripes I have with the Diamond Star.
First, I really dislike the steering system. It is a free caster-type system (just like the DA-20) and can be hard to keep moving straight. One must be going fast enough for the rudder to be effective, but even that felt a bit unruly. I was taxiing with proper crosswind corrections and full right rudder applied, and the darn plane still wanted to go to the left. It took awhile to get used to that.
The final gripe is how easy it can be to tail strike the aircraft. Jim commented on my solid approaches to landing, which is because I work to find my target airspeed and a reasonable decent rate. It comes from working through all the bouncy-trouncy Tigger landings I've experienced. No, I didn't strike the tail. On the ground, Jim pushed the tail to the ground. I was shocked to see that the attitude was only 10 degrees nose-high. I guess I could flare a bit more as I tend to be a tad flat, but touchdowns were overall pretty gentle.
I am looking forward to taking this plane out for a little trip at some point to see how she flies on a short cross country. It's about the most expensive plane I can fly at this juncture, so I must admit that it won't be my first choice to fly somewhere.
The Diamond Star is an interesting plane. As you may know from my previous posts, I did nearly all of my private pilot training in the DA40's 2-seat little brother. I expected this one to be far roomier, but I am not sure I'd endorse that conclusion. It does afford the pilot and front-seat passenger a bit more elbow and knee room, but I think I need a few more hours in the plane before I can say that I feel comfortable with it. The Arrow is more comfortable for my tastes, but I confess that this could be familiarity. The control stick is always fun, though!
One of the nice things that Skill puts together is a nice packet of "aircraft profiles" in order to help the pilot memorize how to set up the aircraft for various maneuvers or phases of flight. Because I did my initial training here, this way of organizing information is quite familiar to me. The Diamond Star's prop and manifold pressure settings are pretty different from the Arrow's (and from every other aircraft I've ever flown), so I continue to work these into my head. I am used to dropping the MP to 17 inches to begin a descent in the pattern, but really the Diamond needs more like 11 or 12, and likes 13-17 for approaches - depending on the type of approach. Of course, individual results vary depending on all those external variables that affect ground speed.
This particular plane is equipped with a non-WAAS G1000. I have poured over the Sporty's video training on the G1000, have done a VFR transition previously in another aircraft, and even having solid knowledge of the Garmin 430 is very helpful. The last bit helps with understanding the logic of how the system works, though it still takes time to figure out where one should hunt and peck.
So, how does it fly?
The DA40 is a very docile plane. Strangely, one needs to rotate and get the plane flying much earlier than Vx, and one can expect some swearing from the stall horn. I can't bring myself to get out of ground effect earlier, which is of course fine. It is very responsive to control inputs and power changes, and will drop like a rock with full flaps and idle power... and like a bolder if one includes the forward slip. I am still working on altitude hold in this plane - I would just get it set up and then my tasks or needs would change. I had just gotten nice and stable, and Jim instructed me to remove my foggles so he could "do something." Yeah... that something was another simulated engine failure. We'd have lived each time, but even practice raises my pulse considerably.
Other than feeling a tad cramped, there are two big gripes I have with the Diamond Star.
First, I really dislike the steering system. It is a free caster-type system (just like the DA-20) and can be hard to keep moving straight. One must be going fast enough for the rudder to be effective, but even that felt a bit unruly. I was taxiing with proper crosswind corrections and full right rudder applied, and the darn plane still wanted to go to the left. It took awhile to get used to that.
The final gripe is how easy it can be to tail strike the aircraft. Jim commented on my solid approaches to landing, which is because I work to find my target airspeed and a reasonable decent rate. It comes from working through all the bouncy-trouncy Tigger landings I've experienced. No, I didn't strike the tail. On the ground, Jim pushed the tail to the ground. I was shocked to see that the attitude was only 10 degrees nose-high. I guess I could flare a bit more as I tend to be a tad flat, but touchdowns were overall pretty gentle.
I am looking forward to taking this plane out for a little trip at some point to see how she flies on a short cross country. It's about the most expensive plane I can fly at this juncture, so I must admit that it won't be my first choice to fly somewhere.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
First IFR Cross Country: A Wealth of Experience
As you know if you've seen my postings recently, I passed my instrument check ride on July 19. On July 22, I loaded up the family in our club's Piper Arrow for a bit of vacation in what turned out to be a daunting but gratifying experience. Our first destination was to be in western Pennsylvania so that the Banana and the Boy could get some time with grandma and grandpa.
As is my custom when I intend to fly, I was nearly obsessively checking the weather for days prior to our departure. The forecasts for that day called for a nice cloud layer I could punch through as we departed KDPA, and marginal VFR due to precipitation and low ceilings through Ohio and Pennsylvania. There was a general risk of isolated thunderstorms, but that has been true just about every day in July. Seemed like it was a good thing I had that instrument ticket after all. So, off to the airport we went.
After loading up and all the careful rituals to increase the safety of the flight, we were ready to depart runway 10. Cleared for takeoff, I started my roll with a bit of excitement as the family was going to get to see some clouds. Then, the noise: the sound of air as if the window was open. I knew exactly what this was, so I brought the throttle to idle and announced an aborted takeoff due to an open door. Despite all my ritual, I forgot to secure the door. This was not the way to engender confidence in my newly expanded piloting skills. After securing the door properly and assuring the Banana (who was holding down the right seat) that she would not have fallen out had the door opened, we again departed runway 10.
As we began our initial climb to 3000 and switched to departure control, we were stepped up eventually to 7000. Climbing through the clouds resulted in the sounds of wonder and excitement from the Banana and the Boy that I had been anxiously anticipating. "This is COOL!" said the Banana. "Wow!" yelled the Boy. Mrs. Dr. Flying Shrink was not too sure about all of this, and read her book until we were on top of the cloud layer as trucking along toward Peotone VOR.
Soon, we were turned eastbound and direct to our first stop: Wood County (1G0) in Bowling Green, Ohio. It's a nice half-way point, and my previous experience with them was excellent. Things were getting darker with a bit more rain as we passed over Fort Wayne. By 30 miles out I had the weather, which was reported as relatively calm winds with five miles visibility and 600 scattered/2500 overcast. By the time I was handed off to Toledo approach, I had the RNAV 10 approach loaded into the Garmin, the plate open in Foreflight, the radios all tuned, and a full brief completed. Flying the approach, I broke out of the overcast layer about as advertised, but there remained additional clouds with which I needed to contend. "Keep Calm and Fly the Approach."
You see, this was far more excitement than I really wanted for my first real IMC flight as single pilot with my family on board. It was not dangerous, just a mite unnerving. At 400 feet from minimums the needles were pegged, but there was a cloud in my way. I could see the taxiway just to the right of the cloud, but I am not sure that counts as having the runway environment in site. Fortunately, the cloud was small and by 250 feet above minimums the runway was clearly in site. Our first leg concluded with a gentle touchdown.
"Good job, Papa" came from the back seat as Mrs. Dr. Shrink expressed her relief. I confess that this felt pretty good.
After taking on fuel, stretching, and making sure all the bladders had been emptied successfully, we were back in 81898 and preparing to depart. An update of the weather suggested that we would continue to have marginal VFR weather for the same reasons, and that there were some building cumulonimbus clouds out there. As I was cleared to depart, clearance delivery told me to climb and maintain 3000 and fly heading 090. We were soon airborne once again, and we were cleared to 7000... but never turned on course direct to Clearfield-Lawrence Township (KFIG). I flew this for quite some time, actually. As I looked at the radar images on the iPad courtesy of that awesome Stratus that I had purchased just a month earlier, I could see that some pretty intense storms had unleashed, and that my heading was going to steer me north of them. I hesitated to ask questions because I thought perhaps ATC new that I'd need to deviate around this anyway, and were just being proactive.
As we approached Cleveland, the sky was dark, visibility at 7000 was maybe five miles (but looked like grey nothing with no real horizon), and we had clouds below us that were on the border between scattered and broken. I could see the ground or the lake quite often, but I also flew over, under and through a lot of clouds. Just as I was about to start asking questions, the controller asks "Arrow 81898, please confirm that you are direct FIG." I confirmed this was the plan, but that I had been instructed to fly 090 upon departure and was just preparing to ask him about when that was going to change. "That's a great question. I don't know why you were given that, but you are cleared direct Clearfield." After altering course, I checked the radar picture again and saw that I would be well clear of that storm.
All was going well, and I was handed off to Youngstown. I had the approach plate open for Clearfield for the RNAV 12 approach since the winds were fairly calm but favoring 12. The METAR from Foreflight suggested that ceilings were plenty high for me to circle to 30 if that made more sense, but of course I was going to burn less gas going into 12. Then, I zoomed out to see the remainder of my flight path. "Oh, crap." This was not the most welcomed expression in the cockpit.
The radar picture showed a small but quite mighty thunderstorm right over top of DuBois, which was directly in our flight path. There was another cell to the south as well. I had just gotten the updated picture, so I started reviewing my options. Clarion County (KAXQ) was about 25 miles away, and would require some aggressive set up. I wanted to see a refreshed picture before I made a final decision. While I waited, I got the weather, selected an approach, set up the radios, and briefed the approach. I did not like the new picture any more than I liked the old one, and I advised Cleveland Center that I wanted to divert to Clarion due to en-route thunderstorms and that I wanted to fly the RNAV 6 approach.
Our decent was aggressive and I was flying much faster than usual, but I had done this many times before with my instructor on board. I instructed Ms. Dr. Flying Shrink to text my mother to let her know that we had to divert and that I would explain on the ground. I also let her know that everything was fine except for storms. At the intermediate approach fix, I configured the plane for a 90 knot approach speed - gear down, flaps 1, full RPM and 22 inches, lights, fuel pump. By the final approach fix, we were ready for our smooth decent and gentle touchdown on a somewhat wet surface.
Two hours. We sat around and tried to entertain the kids for two hours while the storms passed and eventually dissipated. The lone soul at the FBO was a kind man who stayed way past when he was supposed to go home so that we had a dry place to rest while the weather cleared.
Though the rain continued, the storms were gone and we were high tailing it because another storm was 90 miles away from our route again. The flight to KFIG from there was uneventful. I was high on the RNAV 12 approach as it was a series of step-down fixes rather than an LPV, and I underestimated how quickly I had to descend. No matter. The Arrow does great with the chop and drop method, and by 1 mile final was on glide path, on airspeed, and stable - with the airport in site. 5.4 in the log book for that day, plenty of actual instrument time, and three approaches. Not too shabby.
The next day, Mrs. Dr. Flying Shrink and I headed off to Princeton, New Jersey (39N) for a day of rest and alone time before going to meet friends. The weather was Marginal VFR (like barely) at KFIG, and was better in Princeton. After snuggling the Banana and the Boy for a few more minutes, we were off and airborne. It was not long before we were working our way up through the clouds. We broke out and had a nice clear ride for much of the way. We had some clouds to fly through that turned out to be somewhat turbulent. Just as I was entering one of them, I was given a frequency change. That was some fun multitasking - aviate first, tune radios later. About 10 minutes later, I was given a route change and needed to copy and program the GPS. This time, I told the controller to standby because I was in a bumpy cloud. Autopilot engaged, which reduced the workload a little.
I was sent to the Solberg VOR, which completely screwed my my approach plans. Recalling that there was a VOR-A approach from the north into 39N, I pulled it up and to my pleasure found that it originated at this VOR. Perfect. I tuned radios, identified the VOR, and briefed the approach so that when I was handed off to New York I would be ready. I was flying through the clouds, so an approach was required. I was pleased with how I flew this approach, but was easier than the day before as I broke out 1800 feet above the ground and a few miles from the field. I did require a go around because I was too high and figured discretion was the better part of valor here.
1. The experience of being dumped on an approach or executing them in a rapid-fire succession is very good practice, but it is not how I found myself operating on any of these flights. I took my time, set things up as early as possible, and briefed approaches twice as I usually had that luxury.
2. If something seems strange from the controller or an instruction that results in you getting back on course is not forthcoming, ask questions.
3. It is hard to sit here after diverting and second guessing my decision, but I think that a review of my decision making is in order. First, it was a perfectly reasonable and acceptable decision to land and sort it out on the ground, even though that meant sitting around for over two hours. Few people have died from making the very conservative decision. However, I wish I had discussed my situation with the controller or had a conversation with Flight Watch before diverting. My thought process was that I had storms in my way. diversion south was out, and under no circumstances could I justify trying to thread that needle with ADS-B weather. But I might have been able to go north, and even perhaps go far enough east to fly an approach to 30 and circle if an approach to 12 was not an option. If it was good enough to circle going into 12, then it was probably good enough to circle from 30. While I might have gotten confirmation that my decision was the right one, I might have had another option that I did not consider.
4. I have this idea that I should just fly through clouds because I'm a rated and current pilot on an instrument flight plan. While true, some clouds are fun and others... not so much. It really is ok to request a deviation.
5. Things just take longer than you plan them to.
6. I want to use the autopilot less. I found myself using it quite a bit particularly in the clouds to add a margin of safety. I can't say that this is bad, but I want to keep my skills sharp and sharpening. I try to use the autopilot only when I need to reduce my workload as I prepare for an approach.
7. Communicating with my family is helpful. I received feedback that I get a very intense look on my face at certain points: landing, flying an approach, or in the clouds. It's hard for my family to know if I am just needing this much focus (yes!) or if something is wrong. I suppose that means "managing anxiety" comes with being pilot in command.
On a final note, with this flight I crossed over 100 hours for the year. I was stoked about that because I already met my yearly goal, and it was only the end of July. Good thing... December is coming.
Earning my Keep
As is my custom when I intend to fly, I was nearly obsessively checking the weather for days prior to our departure. The forecasts for that day called for a nice cloud layer I could punch through as we departed KDPA, and marginal VFR due to precipitation and low ceilings through Ohio and Pennsylvania. There was a general risk of isolated thunderstorms, but that has been true just about every day in July. Seemed like it was a good thing I had that instrument ticket after all. So, off to the airport we went.
After loading up and all the careful rituals to increase the safety of the flight, we were ready to depart runway 10. Cleared for takeoff, I started my roll with a bit of excitement as the family was going to get to see some clouds. Then, the noise: the sound of air as if the window was open. I knew exactly what this was, so I brought the throttle to idle and announced an aborted takeoff due to an open door. Despite all my ritual, I forgot to secure the door. This was not the way to engender confidence in my newly expanded piloting skills. After securing the door properly and assuring the Banana (who was holding down the right seat) that she would not have fallen out had the door opened, we again departed runway 10.
As we began our initial climb to 3000 and switched to departure control, we were stepped up eventually to 7000. Climbing through the clouds resulted in the sounds of wonder and excitement from the Banana and the Boy that I had been anxiously anticipating. "This is COOL!" said the Banana. "Wow!" yelled the Boy. Mrs. Dr. Flying Shrink was not too sure about all of this, and read her book until we were on top of the cloud layer as trucking along toward Peotone VOR.
Soon, we were turned eastbound and direct to our first stop: Wood County (1G0) in Bowling Green, Ohio. It's a nice half-way point, and my previous experience with them was excellent. Things were getting darker with a bit more rain as we passed over Fort Wayne. By 30 miles out I had the weather, which was reported as relatively calm winds with five miles visibility and 600 scattered/2500 overcast. By the time I was handed off to Toledo approach, I had the RNAV 10 approach loaded into the Garmin, the plate open in Foreflight, the radios all tuned, and a full brief completed. Flying the approach, I broke out of the overcast layer about as advertised, but there remained additional clouds with which I needed to contend. "Keep Calm and Fly the Approach."
You see, this was far more excitement than I really wanted for my first real IMC flight as single pilot with my family on board. It was not dangerous, just a mite unnerving. At 400 feet from minimums the needles were pegged, but there was a cloud in my way. I could see the taxiway just to the right of the cloud, but I am not sure that counts as having the runway environment in site. Fortunately, the cloud was small and by 250 feet above minimums the runway was clearly in site. Our first leg concluded with a gentle touchdown.
"Good job, Papa" came from the back seat as Mrs. Dr. Shrink expressed her relief. I confess that this felt pretty good.
After taking on fuel, stretching, and making sure all the bladders had been emptied successfully, we were back in 81898 and preparing to depart. An update of the weather suggested that we would continue to have marginal VFR weather for the same reasons, and that there were some building cumulonimbus clouds out there. As I was cleared to depart, clearance delivery told me to climb and maintain 3000 and fly heading 090. We were soon airborne once again, and we were cleared to 7000... but never turned on course direct to Clearfield-Lawrence Township (KFIG). I flew this for quite some time, actually. As I looked at the radar images on the iPad courtesy of that awesome Stratus that I had purchased just a month earlier, I could see that some pretty intense storms had unleashed, and that my heading was going to steer me north of them. I hesitated to ask questions because I thought perhaps ATC new that I'd need to deviate around this anyway, and were just being proactive.
As we approached Cleveland, the sky was dark, visibility at 7000 was maybe five miles (but looked like grey nothing with no real horizon), and we had clouds below us that were on the border between scattered and broken. I could see the ground or the lake quite often, but I also flew over, under and through a lot of clouds. Just as I was about to start asking questions, the controller asks "Arrow 81898, please confirm that you are direct FIG." I confirmed this was the plan, but that I had been instructed to fly 090 upon departure and was just preparing to ask him about when that was going to change. "That's a great question. I don't know why you were given that, but you are cleared direct Clearfield." After altering course, I checked the radar picture again and saw that I would be well clear of that storm.
All was going well, and I was handed off to Youngstown. I had the approach plate open for Clearfield for the RNAV 12 approach since the winds were fairly calm but favoring 12. The METAR from Foreflight suggested that ceilings were plenty high for me to circle to 30 if that made more sense, but of course I was going to burn less gas going into 12. Then, I zoomed out to see the remainder of my flight path. "Oh, crap." This was not the most welcomed expression in the cockpit.
The radar picture showed a small but quite mighty thunderstorm right over top of DuBois, which was directly in our flight path. There was another cell to the south as well. I had just gotten the updated picture, so I started reviewing my options. Clarion County (KAXQ) was about 25 miles away, and would require some aggressive set up. I wanted to see a refreshed picture before I made a final decision. While I waited, I got the weather, selected an approach, set up the radios, and briefed the approach. I did not like the new picture any more than I liked the old one, and I advised Cleveland Center that I wanted to divert to Clarion due to en-route thunderstorms and that I wanted to fly the RNAV 6 approach.
Our decent was aggressive and I was flying much faster than usual, but I had done this many times before with my instructor on board. I instructed Ms. Dr. Flying Shrink to text my mother to let her know that we had to divert and that I would explain on the ground. I also let her know that everything was fine except for storms. At the intermediate approach fix, I configured the plane for a 90 knot approach speed - gear down, flaps 1, full RPM and 22 inches, lights, fuel pump. By the final approach fix, we were ready for our smooth decent and gentle touchdown on a somewhat wet surface.
Two hours. We sat around and tried to entertain the kids for two hours while the storms passed and eventually dissipated. The lone soul at the FBO was a kind man who stayed way past when he was supposed to go home so that we had a dry place to rest while the weather cleared.
Though the rain continued, the storms were gone and we were high tailing it because another storm was 90 miles away from our route again. The flight to KFIG from there was uneventful. I was high on the RNAV 12 approach as it was a series of step-down fixes rather than an LPV, and I underestimated how quickly I had to descend. No matter. The Arrow does great with the chop and drop method, and by 1 mile final was on glide path, on airspeed, and stable - with the airport in site. 5.4 in the log book for that day, plenty of actual instrument time, and three approaches. Not too shabby.
The Next Day
The next day, Mrs. Dr. Flying Shrink and I headed off to Princeton, New Jersey (39N) for a day of rest and alone time before going to meet friends. The weather was Marginal VFR (like barely) at KFIG, and was better in Princeton. After snuggling the Banana and the Boy for a few more minutes, we were off and airborne. It was not long before we were working our way up through the clouds. We broke out and had a nice clear ride for much of the way. We had some clouds to fly through that turned out to be somewhat turbulent. Just as I was entering one of them, I was given a frequency change. That was some fun multitasking - aviate first, tune radios later. About 10 minutes later, I was given a route change and needed to copy and program the GPS. This time, I told the controller to standby because I was in a bumpy cloud. Autopilot engaged, which reduced the workload a little.
I was sent to the Solberg VOR, which completely screwed my my approach plans. Recalling that there was a VOR-A approach from the north into 39N, I pulled it up and to my pleasure found that it originated at this VOR. Perfect. I tuned radios, identified the VOR, and briefed the approach so that when I was handed off to New York I would be ready. I was flying through the clouds, so an approach was required. I was pleased with how I flew this approach, but was easier than the day before as I broke out 1800 feet above the ground and a few miles from the field. I did require a go around because I was too high and figured discretion was the better part of valor here.
Queen City
After a nice day walking around the university area and staying at an Inn located in a house built in the 1760s, we were back to the airport. A check of the weather showed forecasts that suggested a VFR flight was possible for our travel to Allentown -Queen City (KXLL). "But I'm instrument rated and CAN file an IFR flight plan, so I will." I complained bitterly about the route was given, and the goofy change made that my GPS programming skills did not like. Just as I was questioning the wisdom of the IFR plan, I noticed just how low the cloud layer really was. It turned out that I had even more cloud time and had to fly an approach into XLL was well. The bummer about this was that the only approaches into Queen City are from the west.
Winds were gusty and favoring 33, but there was a note that circling south of runway 7 was not authorized. "Well, why ever not?" As I finally broke out of the clouds, I could see why - a sizable hill with towers to the south and west of the field. "Oh, that." However, I leveled off at pattern altitude and flew a normal pattern entry and landing on 33. I suppose that one could argue that this was technically circling, but I argue that ceiling and visibility were such that flying VFR and a normal pattern made complete sense but I needed to fly an approach to get down from above the overcast layer. At 700 feet AGL, it did not make sense.
The Long Journey Home
Sunday morning, we got up and KXLL was solid IFR. That was not a surprise to me but I wanted to see things open up a bit before taking off. Always study those alternative minimums. Winds were favoring departure on 15, which was not authorized. It would have to be runway 7, but there was a specific departure procedure about which I took notes so as to remember - there were those nasty towers out there, remember?
I decided I wanted to climb out at best angle, which took some getting used to and monitoring. I got a bit slow, which raised my pulse considerably. Reduce the pitch angle, man. It was solid IFR for quite awhile until we broke out above the overcast layer. An approach to DuBois might not have been needed had I been able to get down to the MEA. Flying the approach to 25, the tail was skimming the bottom of the clouds by the intermediate fix.
We picked up the kids and had some lunch before departing to Wood County. I figured out why it is so important to cancel your IFR flight plan. I sat for 10 minutes with the engine running while I waited to depart because there was a flight out there that should have landed but had not cancelled. I called for this aircraft on the CTAF, but no joy. However, it was the United commuter that I had seen land and taxi to the terminal building. Sigh...
We were finally off, and things were pretty bumpy. Things were calm at 5000 and the controller allowed us to stay there, but eventually we were moved down to 4000. It was a trade off as the clouds were a bit turbulent and we were not going to get above them comfortably. Things were a bit turbulent at 4000 as well.
A visual approach into Wood County and a smooth landing. We had to wait a bit as the fuel pumps were a happening place with some folks on the field and some transient traffic flying a Cub or Cub-a-like aircraft to Oshkosh. They ended up departing ahead of us. Now, that had me worried because that thing motors along at about 80 knots and I would hit 130. Since it had no transponder, I knew that ATC was not going to see them. I tried to raise them on the radio (they had a portable) but that did not happen. I watched like a hawk for about 15 miles, and was then satisfied that I was now past them.
The flight to KDPA was relatively uneventful, but I can say that I was VERY happy to touch down on 28. It had been about 614 nautical miles and just over 7 hours flight time. We had some nasty head winds that gave us a ground speed of about 100 knots on a TAS of 130. My longest day and distance of flying to date.
Important lessons taken away from these flights
1. The experience of being dumped on an approach or executing them in a rapid-fire succession is very good practice, but it is not how I found myself operating on any of these flights. I took my time, set things up as early as possible, and briefed approaches twice as I usually had that luxury.
2. If something seems strange from the controller or an instruction that results in you getting back on course is not forthcoming, ask questions.
3. It is hard to sit here after diverting and second guessing my decision, but I think that a review of my decision making is in order. First, it was a perfectly reasonable and acceptable decision to land and sort it out on the ground, even though that meant sitting around for over two hours. Few people have died from making the very conservative decision. However, I wish I had discussed my situation with the controller or had a conversation with Flight Watch before diverting. My thought process was that I had storms in my way. diversion south was out, and under no circumstances could I justify trying to thread that needle with ADS-B weather. But I might have been able to go north, and even perhaps go far enough east to fly an approach to 30 and circle if an approach to 12 was not an option. If it was good enough to circle going into 12, then it was probably good enough to circle from 30. While I might have gotten confirmation that my decision was the right one, I might have had another option that I did not consider.
4. I have this idea that I should just fly through clouds because I'm a rated and current pilot on an instrument flight plan. While true, some clouds are fun and others... not so much. It really is ok to request a deviation.
5. Things just take longer than you plan them to.
6. I want to use the autopilot less. I found myself using it quite a bit particularly in the clouds to add a margin of safety. I can't say that this is bad, but I want to keep my skills sharp and sharpening. I try to use the autopilot only when I need to reduce my workload as I prepare for an approach.
7. Communicating with my family is helpful. I received feedback that I get a very intense look on my face at certain points: landing, flying an approach, or in the clouds. It's hard for my family to know if I am just needing this much focus (yes!) or if something is wrong. I suppose that means "managing anxiety" comes with being pilot in command.
On a final note, with this flight I crossed over 100 hours for the year. I was stoked about that because I already met my yearly goal, and it was only the end of July. Good thing... December is coming.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Instrument Rated
Yesterday morning around 7 am, I departed from DuPage (KDPA) for a short flight up to Janesville, Wisconsin (KJVL) to take my instrument check ride. Boy, what a day.
I slept terribly. I went to bed after 11, and was awake by 4. I had planned to wake at 5:30 to be gone by 6, but 4 it was. After 45 minutes of trying to go back to sleep, I concluded that it was moot. So, I left early and figured that I'd be less anxious sitting at the JVL Jet Center waiting for my test than if I zoomed in after red lining it all the way up there.
The flight up was very quiet and relaxing, and I nailed altitude to plus or minus 50 feet the whole way there. Not bad, right? Despite some interesting wind conditions, I had a very nice landing on 18. "Today's gonna be a good day" (in my best Ice Cube voice).
After hanging out at the Jet Center for about an hour and catching up with the kind gentleman working the fueling work on the latest airport gossip (why did they close Kealy's, anyway?!?!), the examiner and I got started on this test. We went through all that obligatory paperwork at first, and then got to it.
Oral: I can say that I felt I did pretty well on this. There were a few holes in my practical knowledge that became evident, but the examiner seemed to think that this was more a problem with how certain unnamed ground school offerings address the problems. For example, I could nearly quote the regulation about what to do with lost communications in IFR conditions. I clearly understood what the FAA expects me to do... or did I? Suppose you get to your clearance limit of the airport, and then it's time to land. How do you actually start the approach? But overall, I felt this was the stronger part of the test.
Practical test: Oi vey. First, my takeoff was fun. The winds had picked up and were gusting in anticipation of the cold front moving through. Joys. Despite proper corrections my plane wanted to weather vane into the wind, which was not exactly making for a smooth take off. (where did you go, Ice Cube?!?!). The examiner had given me a clearance, and it was not long before he basically dumped me on a hold. But, it was right on the airway I was flying and a direct entry and hold right on the airway. Perfect. I got this. Well, it was REALLY bumpy at 3000 feet, and staying on altitude was not going well. I certainly busted the PTS multiple times, but I knew this and said I was correcting and did so. Trim? I was using it - honest! Another funny thing.. I double tapped the OBS button on the Garmin 430, so it did not start using my intersection like a VOR. I didn't realize it right away but it explained why I flew past my waypoint each time. I could not just hit it again because the system already sequenced to my next way point.
Approach 1: "Asiana 214 crashed" at my destination, and I needed to "divert." Since I was near Rockford (KRFD), I listened in and chose the RNAV 25 approach. I didn't do so bad on this one and had a good landing. I REALLY needed to take a deep breath because I kept waiting for that dreaded "let's go back to the airport and talk this over" statement.
Approach 2: We departed toward the JVL VOR as the IAF for a VOR-A approach into Beloit (44C). This was to be the dreaded partial panel, and the examiner kept dealing with trying to cover the Aspen panel. This was REALLY distracting and I blew past the VOR and had to get back to it in order to do the procedure turn. Upon reflection, I should have offered to turn it off as this is what my instructor does all the time. I got south of course, then north, then south and then north and then eventually on the course. I did NOT bust MDA. If I was going to go down, this was not going to be the reason.
Interesting thing about Beloit. If one is going to circle to 25, one must deal with some very poorly lit silos right on the approach end and some hills to the south. The examiner was teaching me an important lesson about circles especially at night by taking me here. He suggested using Google Earth or Maps to check an area out. Take a look at Beloit, WI airport and you'll see what he was showing me.
Going around, he took the airplane. I had not done anything wrong at this point, but my honest reaction was "now we're going back to the airport." Instructed to look down, I was quickly handed back a plane that was in a turning dive to the ground. "Holy s*^&!!!" was the only thing I could think. I mean, I recovered just fine, but that was downright frightening. "And that's how it's going to happen, too," the examiner assured me. I assured him that this scared the bejeezus out of me. One more unusual attitude, then we were preparing for the last approach.
Approach 3: ILS 32 back into Janesville. I flew this one pretty well, but it was a dumper. It was the second time that a full and careful brief of the approach was not possible, so I had to prioritize. I was doing just fine and landed without incident.
That was a long taxi. Not literally of course, but I was asking myself I I passed. I mean, as you can see from my description above, it's not like I just nailed it. On the other hand, he never said we should go back to the airport and I flew the ILS just fine.
After shutting down, we opened the door and talked for a solid 10 minutes about some things that will certainly help me fly better. They were not correcting me, but only helping me anticipate some things better. It was the biggest sigh of relief when he congratulated me on the successful completion of my check ride.
After we completed the paperwork, we talked for a bit more about flying and things that I wanted to make sure I understood from his feedback. I learned that I rely in pictures a lot, yet when I had one available during the partial panel but with GPS working, I didn't use it. I should have as it would have helped a lot. The examiner did not say that, but it just hit me as I sit here processing this experience.
After taking a bit of time to relax, eat a cookie, and stretch, I filed my first IFR flight plan back to DuPage. Would you believe that I held altitude within 50 feet again? Flew through a very small cloud (I don't think 10 seconds is really enough to qualify as "actual" instrument time), but I enjoyed the fact that I could.
Then... the dreaded ATIS. How does 250 at 22 gusting 31 sound to you? Did I mention the runways are 20R, 20L, and 28? I checked Foreflight for what I already suspected - 20R and 20L despite being the wider runways were past the crosswind component for the Arrow. Sigh.
Descent was fun - I had about a 35 knot tailwind component, and hit 175kts groundspeed on 140 IAS. That was not even to yellow line.
As I approached the airport, the wind check was 240 with the same speeds. Seeing that things were the same and above my comfort level anyway, I figured I'd take 20R as it's wide and nice and long. Just as I was flaring, the wind picked up and blew me left enough that I could no longer touch down without bending the airplane. Go around, which was sliding all over the place as I had to stay in ground effect to speed up. When I was comfortable again, I called the tower and said "898 is doing a dosie doe and a go around." The controller gave a new wind check and asked if I wanted 28. The winds were now favoring that, so I requested it. Let's just say that I am not at all unhappy with a less-than-gentle touchdown that was on center line. My instructor for my private told me more than once that sometimes the winds are such that a squeaker is not a very constructive goal.
"Good job, 898." What a way to end the day.
Here is my flight track back to DuPage from Fight Aware... cleared route was interesting.
I slept terribly. I went to bed after 11, and was awake by 4. I had planned to wake at 5:30 to be gone by 6, but 4 it was. After 45 minutes of trying to go back to sleep, I concluded that it was moot. So, I left early and figured that I'd be less anxious sitting at the JVL Jet Center waiting for my test than if I zoomed in after red lining it all the way up there.
The flight up was very quiet and relaxing, and I nailed altitude to plus or minus 50 feet the whole way there. Not bad, right? Despite some interesting wind conditions, I had a very nice landing on 18. "Today's gonna be a good day" (in my best Ice Cube voice).
After hanging out at the Jet Center for about an hour and catching up with the kind gentleman working the fueling work on the latest airport gossip (why did they close Kealy's, anyway?!?!), the examiner and I got started on this test. We went through all that obligatory paperwork at first, and then got to it.
Oral: I can say that I felt I did pretty well on this. There were a few holes in my practical knowledge that became evident, but the examiner seemed to think that this was more a problem with how certain unnamed ground school offerings address the problems. For example, I could nearly quote the regulation about what to do with lost communications in IFR conditions. I clearly understood what the FAA expects me to do... or did I? Suppose you get to your clearance limit of the airport, and then it's time to land. How do you actually start the approach? But overall, I felt this was the stronger part of the test.
Practical test: Oi vey. First, my takeoff was fun. The winds had picked up and were gusting in anticipation of the cold front moving through. Joys. Despite proper corrections my plane wanted to weather vane into the wind, which was not exactly making for a smooth take off. (where did you go, Ice Cube?!?!). The examiner had given me a clearance, and it was not long before he basically dumped me on a hold. But, it was right on the airway I was flying and a direct entry and hold right on the airway. Perfect. I got this. Well, it was REALLY bumpy at 3000 feet, and staying on altitude was not going well. I certainly busted the PTS multiple times, but I knew this and said I was correcting and did so. Trim? I was using it - honest! Another funny thing.. I double tapped the OBS button on the Garmin 430, so it did not start using my intersection like a VOR. I didn't realize it right away but it explained why I flew past my waypoint each time. I could not just hit it again because the system already sequenced to my next way point.
Approach 1: "Asiana 214 crashed" at my destination, and I needed to "divert." Since I was near Rockford (KRFD), I listened in and chose the RNAV 25 approach. I didn't do so bad on this one and had a good landing. I REALLY needed to take a deep breath because I kept waiting for that dreaded "let's go back to the airport and talk this over" statement.
Approach 2: We departed toward the JVL VOR as the IAF for a VOR-A approach into Beloit (44C). This was to be the dreaded partial panel, and the examiner kept dealing with trying to cover the Aspen panel. This was REALLY distracting and I blew past the VOR and had to get back to it in order to do the procedure turn. Upon reflection, I should have offered to turn it off as this is what my instructor does all the time. I got south of course, then north, then south and then north and then eventually on the course. I did NOT bust MDA. If I was going to go down, this was not going to be the reason.
Interesting thing about Beloit. If one is going to circle to 25, one must deal with some very poorly lit silos right on the approach end and some hills to the south. The examiner was teaching me an important lesson about circles especially at night by taking me here. He suggested using Google Earth or Maps to check an area out. Take a look at Beloit, WI airport and you'll see what he was showing me.
Going around, he took the airplane. I had not done anything wrong at this point, but my honest reaction was "now we're going back to the airport." Instructed to look down, I was quickly handed back a plane that was in a turning dive to the ground. "Holy s*^&!!!" was the only thing I could think. I mean, I recovered just fine, but that was downright frightening. "And that's how it's going to happen, too," the examiner assured me. I assured him that this scared the bejeezus out of me. One more unusual attitude, then we were preparing for the last approach.
Approach 3: ILS 32 back into Janesville. I flew this one pretty well, but it was a dumper. It was the second time that a full and careful brief of the approach was not possible, so I had to prioritize. I was doing just fine and landed without incident.
That was a long taxi. Not literally of course, but I was asking myself I I passed. I mean, as you can see from my description above, it's not like I just nailed it. On the other hand, he never said we should go back to the airport and I flew the ILS just fine.
After shutting down, we opened the door and talked for a solid 10 minutes about some things that will certainly help me fly better. They were not correcting me, but only helping me anticipate some things better. It was the biggest sigh of relief when he congratulated me on the successful completion of my check ride.
After we completed the paperwork, we talked for a bit more about flying and things that I wanted to make sure I understood from his feedback. I learned that I rely in pictures a lot, yet when I had one available during the partial panel but with GPS working, I didn't use it. I should have as it would have helped a lot. The examiner did not say that, but it just hit me as I sit here processing this experience.
After taking a bit of time to relax, eat a cookie, and stretch, I filed my first IFR flight plan back to DuPage. Would you believe that I held altitude within 50 feet again? Flew through a very small cloud (I don't think 10 seconds is really enough to qualify as "actual" instrument time), but I enjoyed the fact that I could.
Then... the dreaded ATIS. How does 250 at 22 gusting 31 sound to you? Did I mention the runways are 20R, 20L, and 28? I checked Foreflight for what I already suspected - 20R and 20L despite being the wider runways were past the crosswind component for the Arrow. Sigh.
Descent was fun - I had about a 35 knot tailwind component, and hit 175kts groundspeed on 140 IAS. That was not even to yellow line.
As I approached the airport, the wind check was 240 with the same speeds. Seeing that things were the same and above my comfort level anyway, I figured I'd take 20R as it's wide and nice and long. Just as I was flaring, the wind picked up and blew me left enough that I could no longer touch down without bending the airplane. Go around, which was sliding all over the place as I had to stay in ground effect to speed up. When I was comfortable again, I called the tower and said "898 is doing a dosie doe and a go around." The controller gave a new wind check and asked if I wanted 28. The winds were now favoring that, so I requested it. Let's just say that I am not at all unhappy with a less-than-gentle touchdown that was on center line. My instructor for my private told me more than once that sometimes the winds are such that a squeaker is not a very constructive goal.
"Good job, 898." What a way to end the day.
Here is my flight track back to DuPage from Fight Aware... cleared route was interesting.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Initial Thoughts on Asiana 214
I am getting increasingly annoyed with the coverage of the Asiana 214 crash in San Fransisco. Every pilot I know - including myself - would want the benefit of the full findings of the investigation before being beaten and bruised in the media. On one level, I understand that there is an interest to know what happened. However, the media is trying to wrap this up before covering the next Obama family vacation and cannot wait the long time that the NTSB will take.
Instead, we are going to talk about the "inexperience" of the pilots [if they were clear, it is relative inexperience in type - but at least the captain was a very experienced pilot], there is the focus on the alleged lack of safety in a "visual approach" [completely absurd - EVERY pilot first learns how to make visual approaches, and may later learn instrument approaches. All airline pilots are instrument rated], talking about the problem with a nose-up landing attitude [if you didn't put the nose up, the nose gear would touch down first and damage the plane... and it might make the landing VERY eventful], and even a language barrier [FAA and JAA requirements state that one must be proficient in English to conduct international flights - at least those coming or going from the United States - I listened to the tapes, and while accented the English seemed fine].
What is actually known at this point is that the the plane struck the ocean barrier short of the runway touch down zone, and that it was the tail plane that hit first. This means that the aircraft was not in a "landing attitude" but something more pitched up than this. There is also apparently some information from the flight data recorders suggesting that the aircraft was well below the speed at which it was supposed to cross the runway threshold (Vref). I have seen reports that the aircraft "stalled," meaning that the wings stopped producing sufficient lift to sustain flight. While pilot error is certainly a possibility (and perhaps if we were gambling the one I would bet on), there are also some other potential explanations for what went wrong. We should wait to rule them out.
One thing that has not gotten much discussion that I would be interesting in learning more about is the "human factors" or the psychology of what has gone wrong. This flight was about 10 hours, which is a long time to be flying an aircraft. It will be interesting to learn more about what their days were like prior to getting into the cockpit. I'm not passing judgment, but it is well known that the human systems aspects of flying contribute to incidents and accidents. This is why from early in training we are taught to look at ourselves with the "I'M SAFE" checklist - Illness, Medications, Stress, Alcohol and other drugs, Fatigue, and Eating.
But all of these things interact with the mission and the aircraft. Being a little tired from getting up early and hungry from not eating because you're going to your favorite $100 pancake breakfast at a familiar airport may require a different go/no go decision than if you're flying to an unfamiliar airport in a relatively new to you aircraft all while in hard-IFR. As my DPE for my private ticket said in our conversation about these things, "it's difficult and not really desirable to have hard and fast rules, but rather than you've asked yourself if you're really up for this flight."
Instead, we are going to talk about the "inexperience" of the pilots [if they were clear, it is relative inexperience in type - but at least the captain was a very experienced pilot], there is the focus on the alleged lack of safety in a "visual approach" [completely absurd - EVERY pilot first learns how to make visual approaches, and may later learn instrument approaches. All airline pilots are instrument rated], talking about the problem with a nose-up landing attitude [if you didn't put the nose up, the nose gear would touch down first and damage the plane... and it might make the landing VERY eventful], and even a language barrier [FAA and JAA requirements state that one must be proficient in English to conduct international flights - at least those coming or going from the United States - I listened to the tapes, and while accented the English seemed fine].
What is actually known at this point is that the the plane struck the ocean barrier short of the runway touch down zone, and that it was the tail plane that hit first. This means that the aircraft was not in a "landing attitude" but something more pitched up than this. There is also apparently some information from the flight data recorders suggesting that the aircraft was well below the speed at which it was supposed to cross the runway threshold (Vref). I have seen reports that the aircraft "stalled," meaning that the wings stopped producing sufficient lift to sustain flight. While pilot error is certainly a possibility (and perhaps if we were gambling the one I would bet on), there are also some other potential explanations for what went wrong. We should wait to rule them out.
One thing that has not gotten much discussion that I would be interesting in learning more about is the "human factors" or the psychology of what has gone wrong. This flight was about 10 hours, which is a long time to be flying an aircraft. It will be interesting to learn more about what their days were like prior to getting into the cockpit. I'm not passing judgment, but it is well known that the human systems aspects of flying contribute to incidents and accidents. This is why from early in training we are taught to look at ourselves with the "I'M SAFE" checklist - Illness, Medications, Stress, Alcohol and other drugs, Fatigue, and Eating.
But all of these things interact with the mission and the aircraft. Being a little tired from getting up early and hungry from not eating because you're going to your favorite $100 pancake breakfast at a familiar airport may require a different go/no go decision than if you're flying to an unfamiliar airport in a relatively new to you aircraft all while in hard-IFR. As my DPE for my private ticket said in our conversation about these things, "it's difficult and not really desirable to have hard and fast rules, but rather than you've asked yourself if you're really up for this flight."
Friday, June 28, 2013
2013 Half-Way Point: How Go the Goals?
At the start of 2013, I sent out a few goals. The half-way point of the years seems like a good time to review how things are going.
A few additional milestones.
On Saturday 6/22, I crossed 200 hours total piloting time. As of today, I have 203.9 hours. Nice.
- Fly at least 15 hours at night
- Fly at least 70 cross-country hours
- Complete my instrument rating.
- Complete Complex Endorsement and required transition training in our club's Arrow.
A few additional milestones.
On Saturday 6/22, I crossed 200 hours total piloting time. As of today, I have 203.9 hours. Nice.
First Flight: Flying Shrink's Mama
At the end of last month, my mother decided to pay a visit to the grandchildren as a change of scenery, On May 31, I took her on a short flight along the Chicago shoreline. I expected it to be a somewhat bumpy day given the weather - gusty winds and somewhat low ceilings (although just fine given all the higher we could get to avoid KORD's Bravo airspace) for example. My mother likes roller coasters, but I was not sure how she'd feel about the flight. "If you say it's safe, then it's up to you." She knew what she was getting into.
She watched as I carefully pre-flighted our G1000-equipped Skyhawk, and she had a few questions as we light the fires and taxied out to Runway 23 at KUGN. She also took my request that she tell me know about traffic just a bit too seriously. Soon we were off and climbing out to our final altitude of 2500 MSL.
It was fun to point out so many of the sights - Baha'i temple, Northwestern University, the mall near my home, the high school my kids will attend, the Hancock Building, Sears Tower, Navy Pier, University of Chicago, and of course the area once called Meigs field. Unfortunately, the filthy windscreen made for lousy pictures.
We landed at Gary KGYY, and I shut down long enough to clean the windshield for our return flight. We were off once again and looked at our sights again (along with some different ones). As we entered the downwind for 23, I was looking for the Diamond in which I had done a lot of my training. The winds were quite squirrley, so I was thinking that the instructor on board that plane was about to have some fun. Not a bad landing overall.
So, mom enjoyed her first flight in a small plane and is looking forward to her next adventure.
She watched as I carefully pre-flighted our G1000-equipped Skyhawk, and she had a few questions as we light the fires and taxied out to Runway 23 at KUGN. She also took my request that she tell me know about traffic just a bit too seriously. Soon we were off and climbing out to our final altitude of 2500 MSL.
It was fun to point out so many of the sights - Baha'i temple, Northwestern University, the mall near my home, the high school my kids will attend, the Hancock Building, Sears Tower, Navy Pier, University of Chicago, and of course the area once called Meigs field. Unfortunately, the filthy windscreen made for lousy pictures.
We landed at Gary KGYY, and I shut down long enough to clean the windshield for our return flight. We were off once again and looked at our sights again (along with some different ones). As we entered the downwind for 23, I was looking for the Diamond in which I had done a lot of my training. The winds were quite squirrley, so I was thinking that the instructor on board that plane was about to have some fun. Not a bad landing overall.
So, mom enjoyed her first flight in a small plane and is looking forward to her next adventure.
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