Learn to fly

A student pilot diary from Sydney, Australia.

1. It's etiquette to take the run up bay behind the last one in use, not in front, it seems like you're pushing in.  The bay in front of me was empty because the last guy finished and taxied away while I was completing my run up.  This guy snuck in ahead of me then whizzed through his checks so he could push in and take off before me.

2. You should angle the tail of your aircraft away from other aircraft and check you are clear behind before starting your run up checks.  I look up from my run up checks to find out why the plane was rocking like I was in turbulence.  Here's a Warrior in front of me with four on board and his slipstream giving me a 20 knot headwind.

I thought it was kind of funny - Rod thought it was a pretty amateurish display by the pilot whose rego number and company shall remain nameless.  The weird thing is that when I'm flying if something strange happens or something goes wrong or someone else does the wrong thing, my instinct is to laugh it off.  This is not like me at all, as anyone who has been a passenger while I am driving a car can testify.  There's something about flying that agrees with me.

Took off - starting to notice what's going on now instead of hanging on to the yoke, flew around in pretty dismal conditions, dodging other planes whilst trying to complete some turns.  I did ok.  Practice is all that's required to obtain a higher level of precision.  Straight in approach and landing.  Rounded out a bit late and didn't flare hard enough but we got down in one piece.  

I tended to spend too much time with my head in the cockpit reading the instruments instead of looking out where I was going.  At one stage I was looking at the instruments and not reading them at all, like looking down at the speedo on your car and not noticing the speed.  Rod reckons this is a symptom of someone who has spent a lot of time on the PC simulator at home.

"How are your landings on the PC at home?" he asks me.

"Greasers," I reply.  If you don't get it, I'm not explaining.

May 9th 2004.  The Gods of Aviation shook their heads today - the rain that threatened yesterday arrived today instead.  This coincided with a flat battery in my car which prevented me from driving to Bankstown Airport.  As I sat in the car waiting for the surly NRMA guy to show up and give me a jump start I watched thick grey clouds scudding overhead and 767s wobbling along the approach into Sydney, I thought that maybe it just wasn't supposed to be today. 

May 14th 2004.  1H - 6.6HTT - Quick flight to Barrenjoey Head and back - I finally soloed -well, I soloed the pre-flight inspection. This flight was just supposed to be a bit of fun, get out of the training area and see some new stuff, apply all the general handling stuff together in one flight.

 I worked night shift the night before but managed to get away an hour earlier so I could get some sleep. Rod hands me the keys and tells me he'll meet me out at the plane.  The take off seems a bit slower but still pretty damn fast. The sinking sun and the thirty year old Cessna seats were causing a few problems. Next time I'll bring a pillow for my lower back, but I'm afraid of looking like a wuss. It takes away the 'Top Gun' factor if you stalk across the tarmac, ray-bans in place, David Clark headset trailing carelessly from your hand...and a seat cushion tucked under your armpit.  

We're heading back to Bankstown and it seems like everyone else has the same idea. I tried three times to call tower and every time some twin-engined commercial pilot talked over the top of me. You see, it gets dark on the ground first - fly high enough and you can still see the sun.  Now the sun's getting lower and the lower we go the darker it gets, of course. We had to climb and go around again. The tower said it that this might not have been the best option but it's hard to see what other option we had - keep flying into the airspace without acknowledgement from the tower, rubbing shoulders with chieftains and king airs as the sky got darker and darker? Not bloody likely, mate.

"Jeeze, I earnt my pay then," says Rod.

"And you were expecting a joy flight," says I.

An eye opener in how crowded Bankstown can get and how quickly it gets dark.

May 15th 2004.  Lesson 5 - stalls - 1.1H - TT7.7H - This is the flight where you stop the plane from flying while it's flying and then persuade it to start flying again.  Out to the training area again, climb to 4000 feet then pull the power to idle, hold it there, hold it there, hold it there, more back pressure, must be someone's birthday 'cos they are blowing a party whistle somewhere off in the distance, weird scraping noise, bump, the windscreen fills with ground, power back on, level off and climb.  A bit scary the first time you do it, but gets easier with every practice.  Entered downwind and landed again and this time it was a real shocker.  No danger but we floated down that runway for what seemed like an awful long time then bumped down hard.

"Not bad at all," says Rod.

"Mate, that was a shocker,"  I says back.

He didn't disagree with me.

May 24th 2004 Lesson 6 - circuits introduction - 1H TT8.7H - This is where it starts to get difficult.  Takeoff, fly a tight and precise rectangle then land.  Then do it over, again and again and again.  I didn't do too badly although I was overbanking in the turns, not working the rudder enough, and not flying straight enough on the different legs.  The circuit pattern was nice and quiet - half the time there was only me there and the other half there was one other aircraft.  I dread to think what it must be like on a Saturday afternoon - somewhere between Bedlam and a painting by Hieronymous Bosch.  Little things are starting to become more apparent, like how much feel the brakes have and how much more time I have to look at gauges during takeoff.

Included in the above picture is the refuelling truck that comes around every hour or so and tops up the tanks.  Part of the pre-flight inspection is a visual fuel inspection for level and condition.  Legally, it is only required at the start of the day and after every refuelling, but I see no reason not to check before every flight.  That's the sort of guy I am.  No fun at parties.

Although the sky looks really dark and gloomy, it actually wasn't that bad.  Just a general, dull grey overcast.

June 3rd 2004 Lesson 7 - circuits practice - 1.1H TT9.8H - Practicing different approaches, the go-around, looking at what the runway looks like when you get it all wrong.  I saw plenty of that.  No picture today because my camera was playing up.  A new camera is on order.  So here is a photo of my new camera.

Back to the flying.  It rained all night so the runway was pretty wet.  When I got to Bankstown it was special VFR only, meaning I couldn't fly but the weather was clearing and so by the time I was due to take off it was ok.  As we were taxiing to the circuit runway a Cessna was coming in to land - the tower congratulated him on his first solo.  I had a big grin on my face as I imagined it was me up there.

Circuits, flapless approach, practice a go around, seeing the runway picture when too low, adjusting when too high.  Some knowledge had slipped away from me but my runway picture is getting better.  Basically you have a picture in your head of what the runway should look like - you look over to the runway and then adjust left or right so the runway moves into the correct position.  Everything else is just remembering to do the right thing at the right time, take-off checks, radio calls, pre-landing checks, finals checks - everything has a mnemonic but it's still a lot to remember at this stage, considering you're also trying to fly the plane and not bump into anyone else.

The instructor tells me I am above average in my progress so far.  This is encouraging.  Then I remember that if this was 1917 I'd be sent to France by now and fighting for my life.

June 10th 2004 Lesson 8 - circuits emergencies - 1.2H TT 11H - Woohoo!  My total time is into double figures!  This was a tough lesson designed to teach me how to deal with losing an engine in the circuit.  We took off for Hoxton Park just south-west of Bankstown airport - quite a small airport but the runway is still a good kilometre long, so a bit longer than Bankstown.  Hoxton Park is an uncontrolled airport, it's up to the pilots to report, enter the pattern correctly and maintain their own separation.  It seems to work just fine if you listen out and keep your eyes peeled - no biggie.  Everyone is going in the same direction so no drama.

I've got a feeling Rod was relishing the prospect of pulling the power off without warning me and expecting me to glide back to the runway.  Some people are a bit freaked out by the prospect of having no engine but it doesn't bother me.  The difficult thing about this exercise is having to remember to do a lot of things promptly and in the right order.  This sort of thing takes practice and spare brain power which is something I'm lacking at this stage.  Basically I didn't do too well at all.  I came out of it feeling like I was back to square one.  Not only was I not really picking up the stuff I was supposed to be learning, I was forgetting the stuff I thought I already had down pat.  Rod actually reminded me that I was not driving a taxi, I was taxiing an aircraft and we were meant to taxi down the middle of the taxiway, not off to the left like on a public road.

If I thought my previous landings were bad this time they were shockers.  I said so and instead of chuckling, this time Rod looked pissed off, like someone had tried to kill him.  I flared one too high and thumped down like a sack of spuds.  On the last one back at Bankstown I didn't hold off long enough and landed on the front wheel until I thought it was going to snap off.  The bad one at Hoxton Park I put down to an unfamiliar surface and airport and misjudging my height.  The last one I have no excuse for.

All the way with LBJ.  This callsign caused me a little trouble - for some reason I couldn't get my tongue round it.  Try saying "number one runway right lima bravo juliet" really quickly whilst trying to juggle three oranges.  The refueller was little shy this time.  He's hiding at the end of the hose to the left of frame.

On the plus side this was the last lesson before I solo.  From here on in it's just a matter of practicing, putting everything together, studying, practicing until I'm ready to solo and then demonstrating to a senior instructor that I'm ready to be let loose.  I thought I might be ready by the end of this month but now I'm not so sure.

June 11th 2004 - I didn't go flying today but instead went for a long walk and replayed in my mind the lesson from yesterday.  I often do this and I think it helps.  I realised that the two poor landings from the previous day may have been caused by me 'spotting' the runway instead of looking straight ahead to the end of the runway and judging from there.  As a result I overflared on the first one and underflared on the second - resulting in a balloon and a wheelbarrow respectively.  Conclusion?  Practice, and practice correctly.

June 14th 2004  - Circuits practice - 1.0H TT12H - More circuits - Lovely sunny winter day but a bit of a crosswind - gusting up to 15 knots, which is the maximum for a Cessna 152.  Round and round again.  I was particularly proud with one of my landings - the only indication I had that we'd touched down was a squeal from the main gear.

Practiced bounces, balloons, flapless landings, practice engine failures.  I was pretty satisfied with my performance this time.  I'm still a bit slow to do stuff and sometimes forget to do certain things, but those things will come with practice.  More practice required to pin down the accurate and tight turns so important in the circuit.  More practice required to take the correct action instantly in the event of loss of power.  I must now write on the blackboard 100 times, "I must keep my hand on the throttle..."

June 17th 2004 - Circuits practice - 0.9H TT12.9H - More circuits - Whiskey Sierra Sierra - my sentimental favourite as it was the first plane I flew.  Ain't she purdy?  

Cool winters morning with rain forecast for later in the day.  A slight crosswind but nothing to write home about, slight turbulence.  Started off pretty ropey and felt discouraged but gradually improved and felt more confident through the session.  I still need to nail down the turning points more closely and hold my altitude and airspeed more accurately.  Correct airspeed is paramount for a good approach and landing.  Too fast and the landing is too hard and takes too long.  Too slow and you risk not making it to the runway at all.  Neither eventuality is desirable.

June 25th 2004 - Circuits practice - 1.0H TT13.9H - More circuits - I seem to be getting better - almost ready to solo.  Still need to practice the emergency drills on the simulator as I'm still too slow to get them done instantly in the air.  Rod has invented a new method of nailing down the final leg turning point which works very nicely indeed.  Can't say too much at present as I'm not sure if he's patented it.  I tend to drift off to the left of the centreline after takeoff, especially after a flapless approach.  This is probably due to some subconscious desire to get away from the parallel runways to my right.  Did the normal circuits ok, fluffed a couple of radio calls, getting the hang of judging circuit separation, hitting speeds and heights ok, got my turning points sorted out, judging the approach nicely.  

Landings, however, are another story.  The best thing I can say for 90% of my landings is that they aren't dangerous.  Occasionally, it all comes together and I grease one in but for the most part they are only ok.  Not great, not bad, just ok.  I think there is still some subconscious part of my brain that insists I plant the thing on the runway.  This is not the path to the perfect landing, however.  The trick of the perfect landing is not to land at all.  The trick of the perfect landing is to stop flying immediately above the runway.  Let me explain.

  Your instinct tells you to get this flying phone box on the ground so you can recommence your activities as a ground dwelling mammal.  You've got several million years of evolution screaming at you that this is the prudent course of action so it's a powerful instinct.  Nine times out of ten obeying the urge to imitate the action of a sack of spuds and drop onto the runway has a happy ending.  Not bad odds for Randwick but not great for continuing your consumption of oxygen and iced vo-vos on this planet.

The true path to the perfect landing is to stop flying at the same time as your wheels touch the ground.  When you are a few feet above the ground you pull the power off and start applying back pressure to the yoke.  The airspeed starts to wash off and the nose starts pointing higher in the sky.  When you are a few inches off the ground you keep applying more and more back pressure.  The airspeed gets lower and lower while the nose gets higher and higher.  At the exact moment the aircraft can no longer fly because it is too slow the wheels touch, no, kiss the ground.  There is no bump, no jolt, just a faint squeal from the tires as rubber meets road.  You aren't finished landing just yet, though.  Keep the nose high as long as you can and when you can't hold the nose up any longer, gently allow the nose wheel to touch down.  Notice I said 'allow.'

How do you achieve this serendipitous sequence of events?  You tell yourself you aren't going to land at all.  You tell yourself your aim is to drift, hover, float like a butterfly inches above the tarmac.  You hold the aircraft in the air as long as possible, straight and level, with an inch between the wheels and Mother Earth.   But as Radiohead so eloquently pointed out, gravity always wins.  When physics slowly awakes, opens one sleepy eye and points out that you should no longer be flying, the rest takes care of itself.  Simple.  The Zen of Landing.

Now if only I could do it.

Much is made of the importance of a sweet landing when judging a pilot's skill.  Perhaps too much.  It's one part of a flight, not the be-all and end-all.  I never heard anyone say "he's a hell of a pilot, you should see him do an engine run-up."

Oh yeah, I just remembered.  I had my first birdstrike as well.  I might paint a pigeon on the side of my headset.

June 27th 2004 - Circuits practice - 1.0H TT14.9H - Circuits again, lovely conditions, cloudless sky, gentle breeze, cool with very high air pressure.  Consequently good old WSS took off like a rocket - I had to keep throttling back on downwind to stop from going into the yellow arc, or so it seemed to me.  Clearly this can't be correct, no Cessna 152 in the history of aviation has been described as 'rocket-like,' unless the comparison has been made to a lettuce.  Damp, green and of no nutritional value.  I have heard of some modified C152's used for glider towing and agricultural duties that were fitted with 180HP continental engines...I digress.

The session felt good.  Made a few of minor errors and a glaring big one.  The circuit was pretty crowded, we waited for about five minutes before a slot opened up.  Eventually we were cleared to line up on the runway and I could see one aircraft in the air ahead of us and another aircraft on final on it's way in.  I read back 'line up' but as soon as I was lined up I pushed the throttle all the way forward to take-off.  I was going, man, clearance or no clearance.  A cooler head prevailed as Rod pulled the throttle back to idle again.  THEN we got clearance to take-off and off we went.  Even though I'd heard and read back 'line up' I acted as if I was clear to take off.  Immediately I thought to myself that this session was not off to a great start.  Stumbled at the first hurdle.  The minor errors that followed weren't biggies, forgetting to turn off carburettor heat once, announcing a go around without first going around, a little too close to the runway on downwind, slight overshoot of final leg a couple of times.  One really sweet landing, a few average ones, no real shockers.

Next week I have a check flight with a senior instructor and if I get the green light, it's solo city.  I'm right at the stage now of having solo fever.  Between 10 and 20 hours going solo is all a student pilot can think of.  He daydreams of zooming around the circuit on his own, getting some decent performance out of the 152, a little bit of elbow room, no nagging instructor (sorry Rod) tapping on the rudder pedals and reducing the power at an inopportune moment.  That's the life.  Then you can honestly call yourself a pilot.

July 3rd 2004 - Circuits practice - 0.9H TT15.8H - Senior instructor today - Steve was to check my progress and if I passed muster ok, give me the green light to go solo.  Sadly, I didn't perform as I should have or can do.  My first few landings were best described as solid.  Meaning a solid jolt and the odd solid bounce.  Steve turned to me and asked "where are you looking when you're levelling off?"  Then it hit me - I wasn't  looking anywhere, really.  I should have had my eyes firmly locked on the end of the runway.  Once I sorted that out they started looking a bit better.  Not quite solo standard, though, which is a real shame.  Another crack at it tomorrow.

One thing that I noticed was that Steve has one skill in common with my mother.  No disrespect to either Steve or my mother, but they both have the knack of telling me I should be doing something just as I'm in the process of doing it.  Basically when he said "turn now", he was echoing the thoughts in my mind.  It sounds really lame, though, if you say "I was just about to do that," so I kept my mouth shut and did it.

It was good getting out with a new instructor.  He gave me a few good hints and tips and gave a fresh critique to my progress.  I managed to give him a good scare as well, which is every student pilot's prerogative.  He advised me to look out the side of the aircraft on landing after the nose went above the horizon - I thought he meant tilt my head to the side and look forward - I turned my head to the side and spotted the deck.  The result was not pretty.

July 4th 2004 - Circuits practice - 0.9H TT16.7H - Senior instructor today, but a different one.  Matt was his name and yet again I would either get the green light for solo or have to bide my time.

Look at that sky.  Unfortunately wind is invisible and today it was gusting up to 25 knots so Matt made it clear from the outset that there would be no solos today.  Bummer.  Once we were up in the air it was clear that not only was the wind changing its strength, it was also shifting direction.

I think I did pretty well - the advice Steve gave me yesterday really worked well and my landings had improved tremendously.  Except for one fantastic kangaroo hop.  I wish someone had been video taping that one.

It's difficult working with a new instructor.  On the positive side, they bring a fresh perspective on your progress which allows them to identify bad habits you've developed and they bring new experience which allows them to pass on new tips and techniques.  On the negative side, though, they do things differently than what you're used to, which sometimes comes into conflict with the things you've already been taught.

I can't count the number of times I've read a journal of someone learning to fly where they've said something along the lines of 'I'll never get the hang of this' or words to that effect.  A temporary road block in their path.  This is another one of those times for me.

July 12th 2004 - Circuits practice and first solo - 0.9H - TT17.8H - It's been raining for a few days now so at first I was worried that the weather wouldn't clear up in time.  I got up bright and early and checked the weather forecast - fog clearing, and few clouds at 1000 feet.  I looked at the Basair weathercam, which showed a bit of fog.  OK, so maybe it'll burn off by the time I got there, which it had.  Matt was worried about a forecast 10 knot crosswind later in the morning and warned me that if it picked up the solo was off.

Grab the keys and preflight.  Whilst checking the port fuel tank my fuel tester broke.  What a pain and not off to a great start.  Having flown XGB before I knew the seat wasn't adjustable and I'd have some visibility problems due to my inherent lack of altitude so I brought along a seat cushion.  What a difference it made.  Suddenly I had a good view of the cowling.  Round we go for three quick circuits and no problems - probably my best landings so far.  "Ok," says Matt, "I've got the radio call on this one, make it a full stop."  That was probably the longest sentence I'd yet heard Matt utter, he's a man who rarely wastes words, and he made these ones count.

Now. I thought I'd feel rising panic, fear, worry, terror.  Nope.  It felt RIGHT.  It felt like something I could do.  It felt like the first drive of a new sports car or motorcycle.  Exciting and filled with promise, but not worrying or nerve racking at all.

"Bankstown tower, X-ray Golf Bravo is ready runway two niner left, first solo, received delta."

"X-ray Golf Bravo, hold short of runway two niner left."

"X-ray Golf Bravo, holding short."

No doubt the tower is warning other traffic to steer well clear of the circuit until this knuckle head solo student is up, round and back down again, hopefully in one piece.

"X-ray Golf Bravo, cleared for take-off."

"X-ray Golf Bravo, clear take off."

A bit of power, get right out into the centre of the runway, left brake to straighten up over the piano keys, heels on the floor, check runway heading to compass and DI, smoothly open the throttle and check full power and steady.  Engine temp and pressure green.  Airspeed indicator rising, hold her straight with rudder.  55 knots indicated, back on the yoke to rotate, balance with some right rudder, hold the nose up and trim, hold 65 knots best rate of climb.  Check to the left at the parallel taxiway to double check we're straight and pick a reference point just to the left of the cowling, a nice radio mast and hold it steady.

  Quick breather.  300 feet, flaps up, temp and pressure still ok, quick look over the shoulder to make sure we're tracking the centreline.  As usual I've drifted off to the left so I bank gently right and adjust back about 5 degrees.  Coming up to 500 feet, airspeed a little high at 70 knots so we're not climbing as fast as we could but still faster than usual now that 75 odd kilos have been removed.

  Check for a reference point, a distinctive cone shaped hill and bank left at 15 degrees until it slides past the nose.  True to form I'm late feeding in rudder, so I gently push the left rudder.  Too much, the ball slides over the right.  Bugger it.  Straighten up, centre the ball and look over the left shoulder.  There's the runway, nicely pointed away at a 90 degree angle.  Check the speed which is drifting up above 65 knots.  Quick turn of the trim wheel to relieve a little back pressure.  Look again over the left shoulder and the runway has drifted around, which means I'm turning left.  Bank 5 degrees over to the right to correct.  Now we're almost ready for the left turn onto the downwind leg.

  Altitude!  I'm already over 1000 feet and still climbing.  What a difference one person makes.  Push the nose over and trim down.  Airspeed on it's way up and now I'm ready to turn.  Crank it over left at 30 degrees and back the power off to 2300 RPM.  Descending slightly back down from 1100 feet.  The reference point is sliding around, a distant cluster of white buildings.  There's a slight crosswind pushing me left to I adjust slightly to the right.  Spacing is good.

"X-ray Golf Bravo is downwind for a full stop."

"X-ray Golf Bravo."

A little too high but still descending, my spacing is good, wings level.  I pump the toe brakes to check there is pressure in them which makes the aircraft pivot for a moment, touch the dash to remind me that the undercarriage is down and locked, push the red mixture control to check the engine is fully rich, reach down to check the fuel lever is horizontal and give my harness a little tug to check I'm still strapped in ok.  I sneak a glance at the right hand seat and there's no bugger there.  I can't help laughing out loud.  Height is good now, just under 1000 feet, spacing is good and just passing the runway threshold.  I pull the carburettor heat on as I do whenever I pass the threshold, it's easier to remember that way.  Getting ready to come abreast of my base leg reference point, a big blue office block over to my left.

30 degree left turn, pull the power back to 1500 RPM, back pressure to hold my altitude with a little trim to help out.  Apply rudder too late and watch the ball swinging everywhere by the middle.  Airspeed is down into the white arc so I reach for the first stage of flap.  My reference point seems to have swung into view much faster than normal so I quickly level the wings as it appears over the nose.  Check the runway to my left which seems a little high, second stage of flap and trim again, pull the nose up to hold 70 knots.  I've noticed on previous circuits that this crosswind tends to push me past the centreline.

"X-ray Golf Bravo, cleared to land runway left."

"Clear to land left, X-ray Golf Bravo."

I look down to see an imaginary centreline, anticipate the turn to final and bank 30 degrees and keep descending.  The speeds falling off a little so a bit more throttle and push the nose over a fraction.

I've anticipated the turn too much so I reduce the angle of bank to about 15 degrees and line up on the runway.  Wings level and full flap.  Speed is steady at 65 knots.  The runway looks big, fat and a mile long.  It used to look tiny, narrow and way too short, now it seems plenty big.  The picture is nice, this will be a good approach.  200 feet, heels on the floor, carb heat away, flaps full and check the windsock. The windsock is limp as a wet noodle, so the crosswind is only up high, not down on the ground.  Coming in nicely, speed a little low, down to 60 knots but it hardly matters now, I reduce the throttle to idle as the threshold disappears under the nose.

  Eyes on the horizon at the end of the runway and ease back on the yoke for the round out, keep the pressure on, we're almost there, keep the plane flying, the main wheels kiss the runway and we hang a foot or so off the surface, hold it the yoke back and the wheels touch again, keep the nose high and let the nose wheel come down gently.  There is only a gentle squeak from the tyres, not the usual squeal and yelp I was getting used to.  I could brake hard to turn at the first taxiway but as the runway still looks a little wet in patches from last nights rain I prudently let the plane roll out to meet the next taxiway.  I can hear a go around call and I hope my extended roll out hasn't caused it.  Left off the runway and taxi back to where Matt is patiently waiting.  A grin spreads across my face.

"How was that?" Matt asks.

"Piece of cake."  I'd rehearsed that line.

Flaps up and switch to ground frequency.

"X-ray Golf Bravo on ground frequency?"

"X-ray Golf Bravo."

"X-ray Golf Bravo, congratulations on your first solo."

"X-ray Golf Bravo, thank you sir."

"X-ray Golf Bravo, the tradition is for your instructor now to buy you breakfast."

"Is that how it works?  I'll let him know."

Matt muttered something about the controller owing him a beer and I knew I wasn't getting breakfast shouted.

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