The next installment. I'm sorry if these are too long or too narrative... I'm really keeping these in a personal journal, since a very effective method of learning for me is to write. I'm just pasting them in this thread after I write them, as I figure someone might enjoy reading them.
2/6/2012
I arrived at the hangar exactly on time, so I didn't have time to set up the GoPro to record the lesson. Steve told me to preflight the plane, which I did with a minimum of trouble, following the checklist. As we pulled the plane out of the hangar, Steve lobbed a ground school test question at me. "If you lose your electrical system, what happens?" I knew the radios, lights, and flaps would be gone, but that the engine would keep running. "What instruments will you lose," Steve asked. And I blanked. I knew which instruments had gyros, which needed pitot or static air, but I couldn't think of which ones needed electrical. I started to go through the 6 pack: "Not the airspeed indicator, not the altimiter. The gyros are vacuum driven, so not the attitude indicator, directional gyro, or the turn coordinator..." About this time I realized I had run out of instruments, and "Bzzzzt," said Steve, "the turn coordinator is an electric gyro. Nice try." Thankfully we had the plane out of the hangar by then, so I could disconnect the tow bar and scurry back to the hangar. We grabbed our gear and climbed in. "Start her up," Steve said, and went back into silent mode. I continued to follow through the checklist, and I got the plane started without making any mistakes. The wind was going the opposite direction than it was during my previous flights, so we had a LONG taxi to the run up area - Steve's hangar is close to the end of the runway that's usually used, so it's nearly a mile to the other end... "OK, we're headed to runway 4, which is alllllll the way down there," Steve said, pointing off in the distance. "Remember to steer with your feet and don't go in the ditch."
It was hard to believe that I was the one controlling the plane. For some reason, this time the plane taxied WAY easier than it ever did on any of my previous flights. We just went. I wandered a little bit on the taxiway, but I was pretty straight. I only made two mistakes before run-up. First, we pull into the run-up area, and then turn about 45 degrees before stopping, so we have a good view of the approach end of the runway. I still had the left rudder pedal floored to make the turn, but when I went to brake, I took my foot off the pedal, and then applied the brakes - and my braking was neither smooth nor equal. So this whole brake to a stop thing had two problems... I went straight more than we would have liked when I was trying to brake, and then I slammed the left rudder pedal to get back in line, and stopped with the wheel turned full left. Steve explained this wasn't optimal, because it would require more engine power to get moving again when we were ready to leave, which could throw up debris on anyone who pulled into the runup area behind us. So, I need to practice breaking.
He handed the checklist back and said "run-up," which I managed to do without issue, and then he told me how to make the CTAF call for our departure, which I did. We swung out on to the runway and he said "apply full power, and don't forget some rudder to keep on the center line. Try to stay straight after you take off," and we were off. So up to this point I can honestly say, I've done everything myself.
About 45 seconds after we took off, Steve said "I've got the plane for a second, turn around and look behind you." I did, and he asked what I saw. "Nothing, really." "Well, what's about 15 degrees off the left side of the tail?" "The runway." In what's a really effective method for getting me to learn, Steve let me screw up, and try to learn from it. I had been pointing straight down the runway heading, and not correcting the ground track for wind. We wanted to stay on the centerline through 500 feet of altitute, and I didn't manage to stay on the centerline for 50 feet. Lesson 2.
We made kind of a sloppy turn to downwind, since the wind had basically blown us down the length of a crosswind leg by the time I got my stuff together. We exited the pattern and I flew us to the practice area. What followed was... ugly. First he had me try to hold straight and level flight. I wasn't. "My plane for a second," Steve said, without moving his hands to the controls. "Notice how I'm not touching ANYTHING" and we are still headed where we want to go? You don't need to correct for every little bump and attitude change. Correct the big ones, but the little ones will even themselves out. You need to make small, incremental adujstments. You're pulling the yoke all the way back to correct a five foot drop from turbulence. You're constantly chasing an altitude or heading, and you're never landing on it. Your plane, but if you touch the controls, I'll throw you out." Aha. After that, my straight and level became much more straight and level. The lesson here was that I was over-senstitive. What I considered a major deviation was really a minor deviation. Accept that the plane will get tossed around a litle bit. Correct the bigger ones.
We started with 30 degree turns, and I was having a lot of trouble maintaining altitude, maintaining bank angle, pretty much just maintaining anything. It was a little bumpy, so Steve gave me partial credit, but said it should be possible to do a lot better than I was. After I screwed up a few of them, he called me out. "You're spending 10% of the time looking outside the plane, and 90% inside. I don't care if your turn is 29 degrees or 31 degrees, what I care is that it's consistent and that you stay on altitude. Use the attitude indicator for the first 5 seconds of the turn, and the turn indicator for 2 seconds to get the rudder right. Then look outside. Pick something on the plane - a rivet on the cowl, a bug on the window, whatever - and line it up with the horizon. As long as you keep that point on the horizon, you'll be consistent, both in bank and in altitude." Well, that was like a lightbulb going off. As an engineer, I tend to look for measurable results - the needle on the third hash mark, not bug guts on a windsheild. But I'll be darned, it worked. I managed 2 decently consistent, coordinated 30 degree turns. "Not bad," Steve said. I'm sure they have a long way to go, but they were 1000% better than the first few I tried. "Let's do something else," Steve said.
Slow flight, and power-off stalls. Even though I know intellectually that they are nothing to fear, I fear my own inability to properly correct them, and even more so, that I'll do something wrong while I'm trying to correct them that gets us both killed. But in the end, they were nothing to worry about, just as Steve promised they would be. Power down, nose up, trim, trim, trim, holy gosh we are pointed up... and there's some shaking, there's the stall horn, and boom, power on, nose down. Not so bad. We did a couple more of those and then moved on.
Providence (or Steve's equisite flight planning, I don't know which) had us directly over a nice straight road and some silos, so I'm sure you can guess what was next. Steve demonstrated an S-turn around the road, which I then managed to do a reasonable job at through the first half of the S and the early part of the second half. I ended up over-banking the latter part of the second half of the S, so I straightened out a little before the road. "Moving on," Steve said. "See that silo over there? We're going to turn around it in a circle - with a constant radius around the whole circle. It sounds easy, but the wind is going to be pushing differently, depending on where you are, so you have to keep correcting it. Find your pitch cue and check on it every once in a while, but you should be able to judge pitch by watching the angle of the wingtip, too."
I looped around the silo twice, which I actually managed to do fairly well. By then it was time to head back to the airport, which we did. Steve wanted to fly the pattern today, because it was different than what I was used to since we were using the other end of the runway. I was happy to give up the controls, because honestly at this point, after about 1 hour of flight, I was getting fatigued. He handled the yoke, I was tasked with flaps and power. On our downwind I was supposed to cut power to 1500 and add a notch of flaps when we were abeam the numbers, but I screwed that up too... I pushed the throttle in, instead of pulling out, and then when I pulled out the throttle, I did so rather meekly, and I didn't hold the flaps button long enough (the 1965 172 has a flaps in/out toggle, not the stepper switch with detents in later planes). "See what all your screwing around did," Steve asked, grinning. We were now past where we should have turned base. He was needling me a bit, but that's our style. "We can do a long final, but it's not proper pattern." We swung it around and did a touch and go, and on the next circuit he had me handle the turns, and he took over for the final and landing. Throughout the final and touchdown, he was explaining everything: how to judge if you're on the right glidepath, how and when to flare, etc. On our second landing he turned it off the runway and gave me back the plane. "If you can get us back to the hangar without killing us, I might declare you trainable," he said.
After we had the plane in the hangar, he told me to keep going with my ground school, to do a quick review of what I've already done, and then press on to the next section. "Next time you'll be doing the landing too. I'll be there to help you if you need it, but it's yours to do." Wow. I still have to work on the landing sight picture. I always feel like we are dangerously low during the last 100 feet or so. If it were up to me, I'd land half way down the 5000 foot runway... I'm just so afraid of putting it in the grass. But I guess it's not up to me.
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Today's Hours: 1.2
Total Hours: 2.2