A Couple Facts about Flying

1) It’s much faster than driving.

Driving up the I-5 on a Friday afternoon is not my favorite way to start the weekend.

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2) One word: autopilot.

Sure it’s important to know how to fly the plane, you know, for those important parts like takeoffs and landings. But for the rest of the flight? Why would you if you can punch in some directions and the plane will fly itself.

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3) Advances in aviation technology have made flying safer than ever.

This is one of the TWO display screens that make up the integrated flight instrument system in the cockpit. There’s even a nice flight attendant/computer person who comes on the speakers and yells things like “TRAFFIC! TRAFFIC! 10 O’CLOCK. LOW” and “TERRAIN! TERRAIN! PULL UP! PULL UP!” when we’re getting into sticky situations.

Oh, and the little plane in the picture is us. (Had you guessed?)

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4) You can practically go anywhere you want.

Even to the moon! You’ll have to ask Richard Branson for a ride though. We don’t have a plane with that much power… yet.

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5) Landing is the hardest part of flying.

And don’t let anybody try to tell you different.

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6) You will feel an immense amount of pain at the pump.

Let’s see… $6.00 a gallon for Avgas, burning about 30 gallons an hour, on a 3 hour round trip flight… I JUST DIED.

I won’t be complaining about sitting in traffic anymore. Not at that rate.

Adventures in Aviation, Part XIV

I'm going to get a medical exam today. The kind you need if you want to fly airplanes by yourself. Sigh. I'm growing up so fast…

I had another flying lesson this past Saturday and it was beautiful day to fly (as evidenced by the photo of the hangars above). It had been a month since my last lesson (if you don't count the couple of Thursdays I went up with Wes). The last lesson was mildly traumatic, and not because anything bad happened. Just because three sour landings made my confidence evaporate into a small poof of air and all I could think about was how deadly flying solo would be (deadly for me). I couldn't get my head screwed back on straight for days. It was weird. I have never felt so defeated and deflated before.

Things are better now (i.e. I'm not terrified of flying), and I left for my lesson assuring Wes that "I'm going to have fun!" My lessons aren't as new and exciting as they used to be. Generally because I spend the lesson practicing landings and flying the pattern, and there's only so much I can say about taking off, cruising up to 500 feet, turning crosswind, continuing up to 875 feet in the downwind leg, pulling back power, adding flaps, turning base, adding more flaps, reducing power, turning final and then holding your breath as you skid the plane across the runway. See? I said the whole dang thing. Minus the do it over and over again part with the landings getting progressively better or worse (depending on how much the Universe wants to screw with me).

We did several rounds of the pattern on Saturday, with Mr. Instructor requiring me to demonstrate my competence by operating the plane without his input. His input would have been useful when the tower told me "Niner-one-niver-echo. There will be a plane departing before your landing" just as I was turning base. Sooo... there's a plane that hasn't even entered the active runway yet... I am in the base leg of the pattern… descending… less than 500 feet above and 3000 feet away from the airport… the departing plane is slowly creeping onto the runway… and I'm supposed to do…. what?!? Extend my base leg until he has departed???

Apparently, that was not what I was supposed to do. Nor was the sharp turn onto final and corresponding drop in airspeed. That got Mr. Instructor real hot and bothered. He recommended doing shallow S-turns on final approach, with a go-around as the last resort if the departing plane didn't make it off the runway in time. "It would be ok to do a go-around in this situation? Even with the other plane departing? Won't we be flying right over/into each other?" I asked. I don't remember getting a clear answer from Mr. Instructor on that one. At least I know that you never want to extend your base leg!

Shortly after that exciting landing Mr. Instructor asked if I had gotten my medical certificate yet. "No" I answered. "Well you really need to get it. You have to have it before you solo" he replied. "Yes. I know. I've been meaning to do it. I've actually been putting it off. I thought it was a convenient way of avoiding the whole solo thing. Why? Would you have made me solo today?" I asked. "Yes. You're going to go get your medical and next lesson will do the same thing, but after a couple of landings I will get out and you will solo" he said.

Uggggghhh.

I should reiterate.

Uggggghhh.

This totally sums up my feelings.

Uggggghhh.

So there we have it folks. It's been nice knowing you. I'm going to go pee in a cup in a couple hours, get my dang medical and on the next lesson, let Mr. Instructor "build my confidence" as he likes to say. I'll be giving myself some interesting pep talks in the coming days too. They'll probably go like this: "Stop being such a baby Jocelyn", or "Just get it over with. Statically you won't die. People do this every day. Man up already!"

Wish me luck!

XOXO Jelly

An IFR Birthday

This past Saturday was my 26th birthday.

I. AM. OLD.

At least it feels that way to me. We celebrated by taking a late morning flight from Camarillo to Solvang where we had lunch. Considering how much Avgas costs these days, I can confidently say it was the most expensive lunch I have ever eaten. The taxi into town from the airport was alone $20 bucks. I made sure to reassure Wes that I am TOTALLY worth it. He countered by saying thank god I only have a birthday once a year. He’s sweet, no?

I want to share some pictures from our flight out of Camarillo because the clouds were incredible. It’s not often that you get to see such a thick marine layer from the top down.

It also provides a good opportunity to show you want IFR flying is like. I had mentioned a couple of posts back that I had to wear something called Foggles during one my flight lessons, because Foggles simulate flying in IFR conditions. Here’s the excerpt:

A private pilot’s license (which is what I’m aiming for despite the fact that I SUCK), requires that pilots operate an aircraft following a set of rules called VFRs (Visual Flight Rules). That means you can only fly when the weather is relatively clear. If you wish to fly in weather that is worse than the VFR minimums (where you cannot control attitude and altitude by simply looking out the cockpit), you must get an additional “Instrument” endorsement. These rules are called IFRs (Instrument Flight Rules).

On our flight into Solvang we got the real deal. No Foggles were necessary. Into the clouds we go!

Now that I’m not just another naïve passenger who looks out the window and says “Ooooo, clouds. How pretty!” (cause yes, I’ve done that ), flying into the clouds is very stressful. You can lose orientation very quickly which can turn a safe, coordinated flight into a dangerous situation. Fortunately, with Wes being the badass that he is, we dove through those clouds like an Olympic high diver, and our landing was like Babe Ruth sliding into home base… He’s SAFE!

It was a wonderful way to celebrate the day.

My Airplane Baby

First things first: No, I am not pregnant. And no we are not trying to get pregnant. I know this is the second post this week about babies. Lo siento.

The inspiration for this illustration came from a conversation Wes and I had many moons ago. If you haven’t been able to tell already, Wes really likes airplanes. It’s a way of life for him. And we’re fortunate enough to going flying every now and then.

When the conversation about children and our future plans came up in the beginning of our relationship, I said I would like to have four children whereas Wes said he would like to have two. The conversation went like this:

W: Four kids! Do you know how expensive kids are?
J: Yes, but I would really like to have a big family. It’s important to me.
W: Well who’s going to pay for that?
J: You and I will make it work. That’s what happens when you have kids. Anyways, having a family will give you more worth than all the money in the world.
W: Seriously. Do you know how expensive kids are?
J: Well then we’ll make sacrifices.
W: Well I’ll agree to pay for two kids. That’s it. And if you want to have any more, you’ll have to pay for them yourself at a million bucks a kid. Because we’re going to have to buy a bigger airplane if you want any more than two kids, and I can’t afford that.

Pretty ridiculous conversation right? I know. But the conversation inspired the idea of My Airplane Baby. He’s the one that I’m going to work extra hard for (hopefully my ovaries won’t have dried up by then!), so that he (or she) can come hang out with us. Perhaps I will weave him into a story about an underdog, whose odds where never very good, but who triumphs after years of persistence and hard work. Who doesn’t love a story like that? Plus, there will be airplanes.

Adventures in Aviation, Part XIII

It’s Sunday, 9:10am and I’m late for my flying lesson. I blame daylight savings time. Has daylight savings time been screwing with anyone else as much as it’s been screwing with me this week? Usually I welcome the extra hours of daylight at the end of the day, but somehow it doesn’t seem appropriate just yet. Isn’t it January or something? Alas, it is not January, but March instead, and I’m hoping the day’s lesson goes better than the last one. Spoiler alert! No, it doesn’t.

Mr. Instructor and I do a preflight of the little red plane and discuss the day’s goals. We will make our way over to Oxnard, fly a couple of loops in the pattern so I can practice my landings, and then do some instrument training. A private pilot’s license (which is what I’m aiming for despite the fact that I SUCK), requires that pilots operate an aircraft following a set of rules called VFRs (Visual Flight Rules). That means you can only fly when the weather is relatively clear. If you wish to fly in weather that is worse than the VFR minimums (where you cannot control attitude and altitude by simply looking out the cockpit), you must get an additional “Instrument” endorsement. These rules are called IFRs (Instrument Flight Rules).

Our little trip to the heart of Boringville has a purpose! Mr. Instructor brought a snazzy pair of glasses called Foggles that I would be wearing during a portion of the lesson. The Foggles would block out all my visual references forcing me to use just the instruments (attitude, airspeed, and altittude indicators, heading bug) to fly the plane. Sounds like fun, huh? But before I could experiment with the Foogles, I would have to get some pattern work in.

We make it over to Oxnard without incident. Unless you count the part where I’m trying to communicate with Oxnard tower and Mr. Instructor jerks the plane to the right telling me I cannot go into their airspace until they respond to my call. Airspace? Don’t you think I would have to look at a map to understand where their airspace is? And don’t you think it’s your responsibility as an Instructor to go over that map with me? Minus 10 points for you!

We land at Oxnard and immediately take off to start our pattern work. I remember Mr. Instructor complaining that I was pulling the stick back too aggressively on takeoff during our last lesson (which could cause a stall), so I decide to be less aggressive by getting us off the ground first and then slowly pulling back. Things happen quickly when you’ve got full power and you’re airspeed’s alive, and apparently my slow pull back approach was not a good one. Mr. Instructor does a little spasm in his chair and gets his hands on the controls. Fast.

Mr. I: Whoa, what we’re you thinking? Did you see how the plane was dipping? We almost had a prop strike!
Me: Well last lesson you said I was being too aggressive with the elevator and that I should get us in the air, confirm that our airspeed was increasing and then start pulling back more. So that’s what I was trying to do.
Mr. I: Ya, but don’t let the plane sink back to the ground. That’s how prop-strikes happen. And I don’t think Wes would be very happy with you if you broke the prop.

The way he said it is very funny now, as though Wes would be more concerned about the prop than my safety if a prop strike was to occur, but starting a lesson where your Instructor basically says YOU SUCK, makes you feel like you suck. And that’s how the rest of the lesson went.

Scenario: I’m coming in for landing a little too fast. I touch down but my airspeed’s too high. The plane starts a little up-down, up-down number along the runway. Mr. Instructor says that when the plane starts lifting on and off the runway when you’re landing, the effects will double after each cycle, eventually causing you to slam into the ground if not corrected.
Conclusion: I suck.

Scenario: We’re taking off, and the plane is veering to the right. Out of habit I apply more right rudder (you generally need to do this to counteract propwash) sending the plane WAY to the right. Mr. Instructor forcefully responds to my mistake by applying left rudder and taking hold of the controls. He tells me to apply the corresponding rudder pressure IN THE DIRECTION I want the plane to go. If it’s going to the right (as it was in this instance), apply left rudder. Left rudder is still on my brain as we’re taking off for the next loop in the pattern. Except this time the plane was veering to the left and my reaction sends it swinging EVEN MORE left. Mr. Instructor forcefully responds to my mistake by applying right rudder and taking hold of the controls.
Conclusion: I double suck.

All this time Mr. Instructor is commenting on what a beautiful day it is to be flying. That’s like a guy telling a girl “It’s not you honey, it’s me. We need to take a break so I can work out my emotional issues”. Really? I get it. The weather’s perfect, you’re practically Instructor of the Year, and I still can’t fly this damn plane. It’s me. I have the issues.

But I will have you know that the instrument portion of the lesson (where I got to wear those awesome Foggles) went pretty well. I didn’t crash! And I remained positive despite Mr. Instructor’s comment that 60% of pilots who fly into clouds without the appropriate instrument rating DIE. I think he actually said it like this: Here are Foggles. We will use them to simulate what it’s like flying in the clouds. Although, NEVER fly into the clouds. You WILL DIE if you fly into the clouds.

Mr. Instructor's really good at scare tactics, and all the stress of this last lesson has remained with me throughout the week.

Wes (that's him above, the shadow with the small head) had the courage to ask me whether there was anything else stressing me out this week. Oh you mean the wedding I still have to plan and the plane I can’t fly? No, I think that’s enough stress thank-you-very-much.

There is one upside to the fact that I’ve been stressed lately. I’ve given myself license to drink lots of champagne. And it's helping.

Flying Low

I had another flying lesson this past weekend. I don't have the energy to write about it just yet because I'm still trying to recover. Nothing insanely bad happened, just another blow to my confidence. And instead of hammering on about how stressful my life has been lately (boo hoo Jocelyn), I will end with this:

Dear pilots of the world,

How do you effing do it? You guys are my heroes. Seriously, there's something in your genetic makeup that makes you far superior than anyone else. You wield a power much like Zeus wields a lightning bolt. I accept my inferiority. But like a disillusioned human, I will persist, perhaps futilely, to attain the power that you hold. My ego will lie awake and discontented until I succeed. I must try… or die trying. I cannot give up. Thank you for the inspiration.

Love,

The Jelly Logger

Adventures in Aviation, Part XII

This past weekend I thought I’d give myself a break from flying lessons and catch up on my reading. All this crazy talk about soloing has made the reality of my ill preparedness very clear. I also generally go to the airport when Wes goes to the airport, and as of Friday, it appeared this weekend was going to be an airport free weekend. Well things didn’t turn out that way, and I figured since my significant other was going to the airport on Sunday, I might as well go too.

I managed to catch up on a little reading before my lesson. Nothing important, just boring old flight instruments and Federal Aviation Regulations. Not like I’m going to need to know that stuff. Then it was in the plane and off we go. This time I wasn’t as frazzled with the responsibility of communicating and operating the plane without Mr. Instructor’s input.

Camarillo is always busy on the weekends, and as we pulled up to the run-up area, it became apparent we were going to have to wait awhile before taking off. It’s during this time, while we’re waiting for our turn to depart and listening to tower direct airport traffic, when I wonder about the stress levels of the air traffic controllers. They have to manage dozens of planes coming in and out of their airport, not to mention the random bozos like me that take forever to repeat back commands. They must be stressed out!

On this particular Sunday, tower was frustrated with two planes that were responding to their call at the same time. Tower would call “Five three charlie bravo, state altitude and current heading” and the plane would respond with “five three charlie, bravo. One thousand feet, at two six zero, inbound” plus a weird echo repeating the call. You can imagine the danger involved if two planes were to follow the same instructions from tower (can you say collision?), so the air traffic controller became increasingly frustrated with these continuing communication errors. Even though we were still on the ground, it made me nervous to hear this incident unfold over the radio. But then the tower said “It sounds like someone’s communicating with a ground radio”, to which a child’s voice responded with “Ya, it’s me. Is that bad?” Tower: “Yes, it’s very bad. STOP TALKING”. It appears that some little kid got ahold of a radio and onto tower’s frequency, and after hearing all the exciting airplane talk, decided to pretend he was a real live fighter pilot! Yay for him! NOT.

I asked Mr. Instructor if we could keep the day’s lesson down to an hour and focus on touch-and-goes. He agreed and we made our way over to Oxnard. Our first landing at Oxnard was a full stop. Mr. Instructor wanted to “set up” for the day’s lesson: having me do three loops in the pattern without him saying or doing anything. If I can demonstrate competence in being able to fly the pattern and land without his help, he thinks I will be soloing in the next couple of lessons. That may sound exciting to you, but I’ve been having nightmares and spontaneous bowel movements because of it all week long (sorry, I know that’s disgusting, but I’m trying to emphasize my nervousness). Anyways! Back to the story!

So off I go to do my three loops in the pattern. Pattern work isn’t difficult for me and my landings are generally acceptable. Except Sunday it was breezy, and I had to follow a retard flying the pattern in front of me. Seriously, he was going extra slow and would fly out a mile farther than he was supposed to, which meant I had to do some serious compensating to ensure I wasn’t flying my little red plane up his butt. It was annoying. Then as I’m flying along, the plane starts spontaneously turning to the left. Freaking out, I turn to Mr. Instructor and say “I’m not doing that! What’s going on!?” He calmly recommends I apply subtle pressure to the rudder pedals because he believes the tail wind we’re experiencing is causing the unusual turbulence.

Hello God? Are you there? I don’t want to die when I solo. Yet it’s all I can think about lately. Please give me my confidence back. I keep trying to compare my flying lessons to when I took driving lessons, and I don’t remember feeling like I was going to die the first time I drove a car by myself. So why do I think I’m going to die the minute I’m in the plane by myself? Wes tells me that statistically I haven’t been flying long enough to have an engine quit on me, but I have a funny feeling this isn’t about statistics. Maybe it’s about you hearing how good my cooking is and wanting me to come up to heaven to make you dinner. Trust me, my cooking isn’t that good. It sucks actually. You don’t want me making you dinner. So please don’t let me die when I solo. I’d really appreciate it.

Well I didn’t die in the turbulence, and I managed to complete three loops in the pattern plus three ROUGH landings without Mr. Instructor’s help. He did say it was unfair to judge my flying because of the wind. I think he saw how freaked out I was and was trying to make me feel better. After we got back to Camarillo, Wes and I had lunch at the airport café and then walked up and down the rows of planes. It was a perfect, relaxing way to end the day. The nightmares didn’t kick in until a day later.

And I almost forgot! Check out the awesome new plane we’ve been flying.

It flies great even with the duct tape.

Adventures in Aviation, Part XI

I don’t have a regular flying schedule. I try to take a lesson each week, but work, weekends out of town, and weather often get in the way. This is probably why I’ve only accumulated 11 hours over the 3 months I’ve been taking lessons. This is also probably why I won’t get my pilot’s license for 100 years. You have to put in the practice time (I’m averaging 4 hours a month), plus the reading time (I’m averaging negative 4 hours a month), so this is going to take me a long time!

I scheduled a lesson for this past Sunday, and remarkably, nothing interfered with my plan. It was a lovely cool morning and only a wisp of wind was blowing through the air. I’m trying to remember if I felt nervous on the drive over to the airport. I usually do, because, uh, flying is nerve-wracking! But I’m getting to the point where I see it as a task, one that I’m becoming more competent in performing, as opposed to a chore, where if I screw up it’s ruler on my knuckles! Or plane crashed into the ground, either way.

I greet Mr. Instructor at the hangar and complete my preflight inspection of the plane. There’s some oil leaking out the front cowling, but we determine it’s overflow from the oil tank and nothing to be too concerned about. I’m going to make a bold assertion here and say that airplane maintenance is about patterns. If you notice something wrong on more than one occasion, you should take that as a sign to investigate it more. It’s also not a bad idea to make a pattern out of servicing your bird. But that’s what I have Wes for (wink, wink). Now that I re-read that, it might make you think I meant something other than what I did. What I meant was: I am too lazy and ill-informed on all things mechanical, that I use Wes’s brains and brawns to do it for me. Not sure if that’s any better, but it’s time to move on (ramble much, Jocelyn?)

Once we’re in the cockpit, Mr. Instructor asks if I would like to hear what he would like to do during today’s lesson. Why yes Mr. Instructor, do tell!

Mr. I: I would like you to start the plane, taxi, do the warm up etc. while communicating with ground and tower, take off and fly us over to Oxnard for touch-and-goes. And I’m not going to say anything.
Me: Uh…
Mr. I: I think you’re capable of that. You don’t need me to do anything and I’m not going to say anything unless it’s hazardous to our safety. So let’s go.
Me: Uh…

Actually Mr. Instructor, I would NOT like to hear what you would like to do today. You wanna hear what I want to do today? I would like to get a massage, have a mimosa and then get my nails manicured. Because yesterday I spent the day building an awning for my new mobile home and the roofing material, which weighs a million pounds, smashed my fingers into the ground and ruined my self-applied manicure, so now I’m left with chipped nails and bruised fingers! Oh, and an awning for the mobile home. Awesome.

I didn’t have the guts to whine and cry about my manicure to Mr. Instructor, so I decided to suck it up and do as instructed, very slowly… and deliberately… like … I had never … done … it … before. It’s funny how when you’re put in the hot seat, something that is so routine becomes extremely difficult and confusing. I did manage to get us airborne and on our way to Oxnard without incident. It wasn’t until we were approaching Oxnard and the tower told us to enter right traffic for Runway 7 that I became confused.

Me: I’ve never landed at Runway 7 before! I’ve always landed at Runway 25. I’m not sure how to do this!
Mr. I: That’s ok. But you have to be prepared to use both runways depending on the wind conditions, so this is a perfect opportunity to practice it. Follow along that road you see running parallel to the runway and then make your right base and final turns as you would if you were in the traffic pattern.

Nothing like jumping right in to do something you’ve never done before. And speaking of things which have never been done before, just as we complete our touch-and-go on Runway 7 and are lifting off, the tower calls and says they are switching traffic to Runway 25. They say we can enter left traffic on climb out and circle the airport, or we can make a 180 and land back at the airport on Runway 25. (*Just to note, Runway 7 and Runway 25 are the same strip of runway. They are named differently based on the opposite directions they point on a compass: 70 degrees versus 250 degrees.) Apparently, this 180 turn is known as the “Impossible Turn”. I’ll explain: If you were taking off and your engine quits while you are still under 500 feet (no engine means you’re going down baby), the emergency procedure to follow would be to land the plane straight ahead, even if that means into a field, on a street, etc. You would think that since you are still close to the airport (remember, your engine quit just as you were climbing out) you could just turn around and land on the runway. Not so. Generally, you do not have enough altitude or power to glide back to the runway, so attempting it is more dangerous than making an emergency landing somewhere other than the airport. Well Mr. Instructor saw this as a perfect opportunity to try something he’s never done before: the “Impossible Turn”. He cuts the engine and declares “We’re simulating an engine failure. Let’s see if this plane can make it back to the airport given the current conditions. I’ve never done this before. This should be interesting!” Thank goodness he also said “My plane”, because I was really confused (the "Impossible Turn" wasn't explained to me until we were back on the ground). Luckily, we made it back to the airport, but just barely. The lesson learned is if the engine dies on the little red plane on takeoff, and we’re at or below 500 feet, you better not try to make it back to the airport. Just cruise on into someone’s backyard and ask them for a sandwich.

The rest of the lesson was spent flying the pattern and practicing landings. Turns out I’m getting better at landing. I did a good 3 or 4 landings all by myself! Not that this means I know what I’m doing, I’m just getting luckier. Mr. Instructor was impressed and said that I’m getting closer to … solo. This makes me excited and terrified at the same time. There’s no way I’m prepared to fly by myself, and I’m guessing Mr. Instructor keeps talking about it as a scare tactic. I did finally admit that I’m behind on my reading, although I blamed it on my fiancé who insists I build roofs on the weekend as opposed to study (under the bus he goes!), and I don’t see why I can’t continue to use it as an excuse.

“I’m sorry Mr. Instructor. I can’t solo yet because I’m confused on how the rudder works. And that whole pitot tube airspeed thing, that's tricky too. Just let me read those Chapters again and I’ll get back to you. Thanks.”

It’s genius.

And if you're curious, here's a look inside the cockpit of the plane I fly. Crazy huh? This is where I make the magic happen.

Adventures in Aviation, Part X … Continued

I don’t remember what my excuse was for Saturday… oh wait! Yes I do! During my sixth flying lesson, Mr. Instructor informed me that we were nearing the point where we’d practiced everything in the first stage of my flight training, and that during the next lesson we would sit down and go over all my book learning. Remember those unintended consequences I mentioned a couple months back? The reading I’m supposed to do alongside my actual in-the-aircraft training? Don’t remember? Ya, me neither. I haven’t been the best student lately, and anticipating that Mr. Instructor would want to go over all the material I haven’t been reading, I formulated an excuse on my way to the airport. It went something like this: “I had a really tough week at work (true story), and I just haven’t been in the mindset to focus on the material (I’m stretching it a bit now), and I want to give the material my full attention since I think it’s such an important part of my learning process (oh, yes. I’m shameless). Actually, I do think the reading is important. Much in the same way I think kale is a key ingredient to a healthy diet. It’s just hard to choke down every now and then.

Turns out I didn’t need to spend my energy creating an excuse for why I wasn’t caught up on the reading. Mr. I straight up forgot about our recap session! As soon as I got to the airport it was get in the plane and off we go. Mr. I doesn’t like to waste time. Mr. I likes to get in the air and torture me with endless stall practice. Have I mentioned my dislike of stalls? Oh, right, I won’t remind you again.

Most of the lesson was spent doing “upper air work”. We did stalls, steep turns, slow flight and high altitude descents. This was the second time I had done steep turns, which basically go like this:
Pick an altitude and stick with it, let’s say 4500 feet, then pick a point on the compass to be your starting point, say 270 degrees (west). Have your turn/G force/I’m-not-really-sure-what-it’s called indicator visible so you can make sure you’re maintaining a 60 degree bank, which imposes a 2G load on the aircraft (you feel twice as heavy). Then start your 60 degree bank to the left, go all the way around (a full 360 degree turn), and as you reach the point you picked on the compass (270 degrees), turn the 60 bank in the opposite direction and do another full 360 degree turn until you come back around then level out at you’re starting point (270 degrees). The goal is to keep your turns at a constant degree bank and maintain your altitude within 100 feet.

The little red plane I practice in turns on a dime, so by the time my brain starts working after I start a turn, I have to hurry up and turn in the other direction. Monitor my altitude? When am I supposed to do that? At the 1 second mark when I’ve made the first complete turn, or at the 2 second mark when the maneuver’s complete? There’s not a lot of time in there for me to be thinking about silly things like altitude. Most of the time I’m thinking: “Wow this is so weird! The view is so different when you’re perpendicular to the ground! Crazy!” Luckily, I’ve managed to convince Mr. I that I know what I’m doing, and we only practice one set of steep turns before moving on. And if you do too many sets, all the G force action is liable to make you barf. So I’ve heard.

The rest of the lesson was spent flying in the pattern and practicing landings, two of my favorite things. I don’t think I’ve really mentioned it, but one of the most challenging parts of flying is learning to use the radios to communicate. Radio communication is essential if you are flying in highly trafficked areas or if you want to depart or land at an airport (it’s essential for many other reasons, but those are the top ones). You’d think it’d be easy, but aviation language is a very different language.

“Camarillo ground, light sport niner-one-niner-echo at the east end, with information bravo. We would like taxi for a northwest departure”.
“Light sport niner-one-niner-echo. Follow the duchess and taxi via golf alpha to 26”.
“We will follow the duchess, taxi via golf alpha to 26, niner-one-niner-echo”.

Imagine trying to comprehend and respond to calls like that while you’re trying to fly a plane you don’t really know how to fly. It gets stressful. Which is why while we were flying the pattern over Oxnard and I heard a call associated with niner-one-niner-echo (the plane I fly), I responded with “approved for landing, niner-one-niner-echo”. That would have been right, except that the tower gave me instructions to land on a heli pad. Airplanes don’t land too well on heli pads. But look at me! I was going to do it no problem! It only took both the tower and Mr. I a second before realizing the mistake and correcting it.

To be honest, I wasn’t going follow the tower’s instructions and land on the heli pad, because I didn’t even hear what they said. I was just going to disregard it and go about my pattern work/landing as usual, or until Mr. I told me different. It’s stressful ok! I can either listen to the tower man’s instructions or fly the damn plane, and I choose fly the damn plane! Anyways, Mr. I listens to the tower and I know he's got my back.

I think the highlight of my seventh flying lesson would have to be the perfect landing I perfectly screwed up. We were coming into landing at Oxnard. Everything’s looking good. My airspeed is about 70, right where I want it. I’ve got one notch of flaps in. I’m lining up with the runway. Mr. I isn’t touching the controls, he’s just telling me to aim for the numbers, standard. I’m coming in… over the runway now… just crossing the numbers… leveling it off… letting it settle into ground effect… pull back a little… and plop, the wheels touch the runway. It was awesome. Mr. Instructor and I were equally shocked how well I did, but then the excitement got the best of me. We weren’t on the runway for more than 10 seconds before I’m jamming the power all way in and taking off again. Except I forgot to “clean up” and take out the flaps I put in for landing. Flaps are good for landing, not for takeoff. Whoops! So my perfect landing got screwed up by the imperfect pilot.

That marks the end of my seventh flying lesson. I now have one whole page of my logbook filled out and 11.5 hours of instruction! Check it out!

There may have been some crazy talk at the end of my lesson about how I’m progressing very quickly and might be coming up on the solo preparation material, but I’m pretty sure I heard Mr. Instructor incorrectly. He probably said something more like: “I am only encouraging you so you keep booking me for flight instruction, cause I’m riding solo now and I needs to get me some cash so I can take out a lady for Valentine’s Day.”

That’s probably where I got confused.

Adventures in Aviation, Part X

So here we are, Adventures in Aviation Part X; the mac daddy, the big kahuna, my six and seventh official flight lessons. Yes that's right. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I've neglected to write about the unofficial flying I've done with Wes as well as my six official flight lesson until now. I'm lame, I know. So let's sum it up shall we?

Scene: An unassuming Sunday in January at Camarillo Airport
The Characters: Jocelyn, struggling student of aviation, and Wes, unofficial flight instructor
The Equipment: Light sport aircraft
The Outcome:
W: Alright, let's take off.
J: Ok, walk me through it. I'm not used to you being my instructor (Excuses, excuses # 1).
W: I like to roll in the power to about 3000 and then push it all the way in to take off.
J: I've never done it like that before. I always just push the bad boy in all the way and go.
W: Really? It's better on the plane if you do it the way I suggested.
J: Oh, right.
W: Let's practice some touch and go's at Oxnard.

(10 minutes later, coming in for landing)

W: You're coming in a little high and fast.
J: Mr. Instructor and I have practiced more touch and go's at Camarillo than at Oxnard, so I'm not used to this airport. Maybe you should demonstrate the landing first (Excuses, excuses #2).

(40 minutes later, on the ground back at Camarillo)

W: Not bad. You did a great job.
J: Ya, I'm not too sure about that. I'm just not used to flying the pattern at Oxnard since it's higher than Camarillo's (Excuses, excuses #3).

It wasn't that interesting of an experience, so I'll leave it at that. And it was a couple of weeks ago, so more memorable (read: death defying) experiences have happened since then.

I decided to go all out and coordinate the color of my pants with the color of the plane for my six official flying lesson. Snazzy aren't I?

Scene: A sunny Saturday in January at Camarillo Airport

The Characters: Jocelyn, Cali Valley girl, and Mr. Instructor, official flight instructor
The Equipment: Light sport aircraft
The Outcome:
Mr. I: Let's practice some stalls.
Me (unsaid): When are we not practicing stalls! I can never get away from these damn stalls!
Mr. I: So please demonstrate a power off stall.
Me: I'm going to say it as I do it. It helps me keep it straight. Ok, let's pull some power out, give it a notch of flaps, make sure I'm on my heading and altitude, pull some more power out, and give it another notch of flaps. We're watching the airspeed drop and giving it right rudder to compensate. Alright, that feels like a stall. Now I'm giving it full power, noise down, take out a notch of flaps, watch my airspeed come alive, make sure my VSI is positive, and take out the remaining flaps.
Mr. I: Good job. Now please demonstrate a power on stall.
Me: Ok. I would …
Mr. I: Actually, I've noticed that this plane doesn't like to stall; it likes to keep flying. So I want to try a power on stall myself, and REALLY get this thing to stall. My plane.
Me: Ok, your plane.

(Mr. I pushes the power all the way in and pulls the stick all the way back so we are practically vertical. The plane stalls. HARD.)

Me: Oh my god!

(I reach for the controls and try to pull the stick back even more in an effort to correct the dip, swoosh OH MY GOD WE'RE GOING TO DIE experience. Mr. I calmly pushes the stick forward).

Mr. I: Now that was a stall! But notice how it was your natural reaction to want to pull the stick back to correct it? That's exactly what you DON'T want to do. It will continue the stall and possibly turn the stall into a spin, and spins are very dangerous.
Me: I didn't like that. That was pretty scary.
Me (unsaid): Are you crazy! Why did we need to get the plane to "really stall"? Aren't normal feels-like-they-are-going-to-kill-you-stalls enough? But no, we needed to do a I-just-crapped-my-pants-no-like-seriously-I'm-sitting-in-my-own-feces-stall. Thanks a lot. Can I go home now?

Dramatics aside, it was a good learning experience and I'm happy to report that I haven't sworn off flying. I just like practicing stalls even less.

So guess what we practiced this past Saturday during my seventh official flight lesson. Stalls! Who said you're supposed to enjoy yourself on the weekend? Weekends are for testing the laws of natural selection, and I'm getting very good at beating 'em.

To be continued…

Adventures in Aviation, Part Neuf

Saturday marked my fifth official flight lesson after not being in any plane for almost a month. All the hustle and bustle of the holidays kept us grounded. Wes had left early Saturday morning and I was commissioned with getting to the airport by myself. Speaking of Wes, the gangster got his multi engine rating this weekend (he can fly planes with two engines! Wait, we don’t have a plane with two engines… oh well!). He impressed his FAA examiner by completing the practical test faster and more competently than any other student the examiner had seen. What a show off.

Anyhoodle, this post is about me, not my strong, capable, handsome chunk of a man who possesses unparalleled problem solving and time management skills. So I arrive at the airport and am tying my shoes just as Mr. Instructor shows up, destroying my plans to have the airplane checked and ready before Mr. Instructor showed up. Guess I need to work on my time management skills. I’ll ask Wes about that. We pull the plane out of the hangar and I remind Mr. I that this is only my fifth lesson and that I haven’t done any flying since our last lesson. I was feeling a little nervous, but didn’t want to say it outright. I believe you shouldn’t let anybody smell your fear. It’s counterproductive.

It was a cloudy day, so Mr. Instructor decided we’d stick to flying the pattern as opposed to practicing ground reference maneuvers, which would have been the day’s curriculum. For whatever reason, pulling up to the runway threshold and getting ready for takeoff wasn’t as overwhelming as it had seemed before. Maybe it was because there were no other planes waiting to takeoff behind us, or because the skies were releasing good vibes, but the checklist then lights, camera, action and full throttle went off without a hitch. We were airborne and setting up to fly the pattern.

Flying the pattern is basically circling around the airport in an established route and altitude. Each airport will have their own specific traffic pattern and altitude requirements. The altitude for Camarillo’s pattern 875 ft. I’m not sure if 875 ft. seems high or low to you, but climbing out at full throttle, we were hitting 500 ft. within 30 seconds, at which point I would have to turn left crosswind and reduce the throttle, then 10 seconds later make another left turn to fly upwind and reduce the throttle even more because BAMN we were already at 875 ft. To sum it up: flying the pattern happens fast! Which is why we made at least 15 loops in the pattern. And you know what that means: 15 loops = 15 landings. Sweet lordy, there is nothing more fun than landing.

Mr. I: You’re coming in a little fast. Reduce the throttle a bit.
Me: Ok.
Mr. I: Aim for the numbers. No, pull your noise up a little bit.
Me: Ok.
Mr. I: Now you need more throttle. Just a little.
Me: Ok.
Mr. I: Steady, steady, steady. Whoa your sink rate is too high.
Me (unsaid): I have no idea what you’re talking about! This plane is landing itself!
Mr. I: Good, good. Now let it come into ground effect. Down nice and easy.
Me (unsaid): Seriously. Who is landing this plane? I don’t know what I’m doing! It’s not listening to me!
Mr. I: Nice. You landed that one yourself!
Me (unsaid): Landed it myself? Wow, this is dangerous.

After all that pattern work, Mr. I and I decided to take a nice flight along the coast for the last 30 minutes of our lesson. I was curious if we could see the remains of the landslide which has closed portions of PCH for the past couple of weeks. That little flight along the coast really changed my perspective on flying. I felt in total control: I was keeping our altitude at a steady 500 ft., monitoring airspeed and plotting our course. It was the first time where I felt that Mr. I was my passenger and I was his pilot, not the other way around. I could go anywhere I wanted! The freedom! The independence! It was awesome. Mr. I just sat there and pointed out the houses along PCH he would buy if he had that kind of money. He didn’t correct me or tamper with my flying. He also took my picture.

It’s nice to end a flying lesson on a good note. Oh, wait. I did taxi the plane up to the hangar “too close to my brand new Mercedes! Now it’s going to have a bunch of pebble scratches and marks on it and it’s brand new! That’s not how we do things here at Camarillo. You need to try to be considerate.” That’s what the old man in the hangar across the way told us of after our flight. Can you imagine? A car getting scratched? That’s quite positively the worst thing that could happen in the whole world! Butthead.

The End.

Adventures in Aviation, Part Huit

Wow. I just realized that I’ve only had four official flight lessons. Why does it seem like I’ve been doing this for ages? My skills are indicative of a four lesson student, but my brain thinks otherwise. But yes, last Saturday was my fourth official flight lesson. On the agenda: steep turns.

I’m starting to understand why people say the most dangerous parts of flying are the takeoff and the landing (and weather, but that’s a whole other category). As we approach the runway threshold, Mr. Instructor reminds me to get into lights (lights on), camera (transponder on,) action (fuel pump on) mode, then it’s full power and we race down the runway. Something about pushing the power all the way in slows my brain synapses. Power and brain function must be inversely related for me.

Mr. I: Watch your airspeed.
Me: Uh, uh, uh…
Mr. I: Keep us straight on the runway.
Me: Uh, uh, uh…
Mr. I: Your airspeed’s alive. Start to pull back.
Me: Uh, uh, uh…
Mr. I (grabbing the controls): Pull back more! Whoa, keep us steady! Give it more right rudder!
Me: I’m giving it right rudder!
Mr. I: Ok, there we are. Keep us climbing. Good job.
Me (unsaid): Holy crap! What the hell just happened!

As we climb away from the airport my comprehension comes back. I’m very good at straight and level flying; I think it’s my specialty. But steep turns are not straight and level flying. Steep turns mean you have to make 360 degree turn at a 45 degree angle, the force of which equals 2Gs, then switch directions and do another 360 degree turn at a 45 degree angle going the other direction. You’re also supposed to maintain a constant altitude throughout the turns. Ha! It wasn’t hard for me to figure out how to react once we started the turn (pull back, constant moderation of aileron and rudder), but there was no way I could look at the turn indicator to make sure I was at a constant 45 degree angle AND the altitude indicator. At a 45 degree angle, that little plane turns fast! All I could think when Mr. Instructor said “Good job. You did a nice job maintaining altitude”, was “Altitude? I was supposed to monitor altitude? And when was I supposed to do that?”

I imagine statements like these might scare readers who believe flying requires a dedicated, detail-oriented, fast-acting and responsible pilot, and perhaps you think I sound like the opposite of one of those, but to that I will respond with a quote from Mr. Instructor: “Believe me, there are plenty of people who have their pilot’s license who definitely shouldn’t have gotten their pilot’s license. I don’t know what kind of CFI (certified flight instructor) would have signed them off for that. It’s kinda scary thinking that those people are allowed to fly around up there with us.” If Mr. Instructor can be as blunt with me on my first lesson as he was, I assure you he will not allow me to fly alone until I’m dedicated, detail-oriented, fast-acting and responsible pilot. I sure hope that’s before I’m 80. I guarantee my synapses will be WAY slower then.

Our lesson continued with some slow flight, touch and goes (land then takeoff immediately afterwards), and flying the pattern. There were a couple more takeoff episodes (Mr. I: More right rudder!, Me: I’m giving it right rudder! I think the right rudder is stuck!), but all-in-all it was a great lesson.

After my lesson, Wes and I worked on the planes until 5pm. We were finishing up just as the sun was setting, so Wes suggested we go out for a sunset flight. Best. Idea. Ever. Check it out:

California sunsets are awesome; even better when seen from the air. I’m a lucky girl.

Adventures in Aviation, Part Sept

My third official flying lesson happened two weekends ago. Why are you only hearing about it now? A black hole opened up in my little corner of the Valley last week and swallowed my sanity. Luckily, all is intact and my fingers are back on the keyboard.

The weekend of my third lesson contained much more flying than the actual lesson part. I was originally scheduled to fly on Saturday, so I spent the morning dealing with those unintended consequences aka reading. I was going to be a prepared student for a change!

In the meantime, Wes was out doing some flying of his own. The weather was fickle that weekend, and breezy blue skies turned into wicked turbulence on his flight up to Mammoth, which meant that he wasn’t coming home until it cleared up. So there I am, sitting on the couch, reading about stalls and the four forces of flight, hearing about a “scary, I’m never going to fly like that again” account from my Lovies, feeling the pressure of having to get to the airport by myself (I’ve already mentioned my dependency issues), hoping that my Lovies makes it back before dark and bam!, my instructor cancels on me. He needs to reschedule for tomorrow. I was relieved, but annoyed. I don’t like delaying the inevitable, especially when my thoughts are totally consumed with flying. But Sunday it was.

Sunday’s weather was perfect for flying. It was cool and cloudy. That plane turns into a flying oven when it’s hot out. You just have to sit there, your feet melting into the rudder pedals, try to keep your sweaty hands dry and fly the thing. It’s not the most pleasurable experience, but we didn’t have to deal with that on Sunday. The main thing we had to deal with on Sunday was fuel.

During the pre-flight, I removed the gas caps to refuel the plane, which is procedure, but I put the gas cap on the ground FACE DOWN. Fuel related incident #1. Mr. Instructor reminded me that any water or particles in the gas tanks will inhibit the plane’s operation and cause problems. So if I would please look at the gas cap I put on the ground FACE DOWN and realize that I was getting it dirty. Dirt, which in turn, would end up in the gas tank when I screwed the cap back on. I like to make mistakes in the beginning of my lessons. Since I’m guaranteed to make mistakes while we’re flying, a mishap before we even get in the plane indicates consistency, and I like to be consistent.

Off we went, buzzing around Camarillo and then over to Newbury Park. The air always seems calmer east of the airport, so that’s where you’ll find us practicing the most. We dove right into the day’s curriculum: stalls. My favorite. For a power-off stall, the procedure goes something like this: Mr. Instructor picks an altitude and a heading. I maintain the altitude and the heading while wheeling the power back. I give the plane a notch of flaps to maintain lift and point my noise up to slow the airspeed down. Then it’s less power, more flaps, less power, more flaps, and constant right rudder, until the plane can no longer maintain lift and it stalls. For recovery, you need to point your noise down to get your airspeed back alive, push the power all the way in, confirm that you have positive rate of climb and then take the flaps out a notch at a time. Once you’re climbing back to your altitude you can reduce the power. At least I think that’s how a power-off stall and recovery are done. I’ve only had four lessons; I wouldn’t trust me just yet.

Power-on stalls are similar in the sense that you stall the wing (the wing no longer produces lift; aka your ass is in trouble), but the conditions and recovery are very different. To practice a power-on stall, you fly at full power and then pull the stick back so the wings exceed their critical angle of attack. The plane will stall, and to recover, you will need to lower the noise just enough to see your vertical speed increase (you’re going up, not down) then bring the nose back up to continue climbing. At least I think that’s how a power-on stall and recovery are done. Again, I wouldn’t trust me just yet.

I’m sure you’re pretty bored by now (I wasn’t having the time of my life either), but around the one hour mark of our lesson Mr. Instructor notices that the fuel pressure is in the red. Fuel related incident #2. Any gauge that’s in the red is a bad sign. I, however, thought the fuel pressure gauge was the oil pressure gauge, so I was extra excited.

Mr. I: Hmm, that’s not good. The fuel pressure’s really high. Have you noticed that before?
Me: No. That’s bad isn’t it? We should land right?
Mr. I: Ya, it’s not good but it’s not that bad. It’s a little unusual.
Me: We should land right?
Mr. I: I wouldn’t be too concerned. There’s probably an electronic glitch or something, but it’s not my plane so I don’t want anything bad to happen if we keep flying.
Me: We should land right?
Mr. I: Ya, let’s head back to the airport.

I was having one of those moments where I was focusing on how hard the flying was and how much easier not flying would be, forgetting that I’m going to have to do lots more flying until it’s no longer hard (or scary). When we were back on the ground and I was only able to log 0.7 hours in my logbook I realized this. Then we spent the afternoon fixing the plane I broke!

Well Wes fixed it. I took pictures of the dogs and sky; the sky which I longed to be back flying through.