A student pilot diary from Sydney, Australia.
Thursday 11th November 2004 - 1.4H TT50.8H - Practice Forced Landings - Went out with Rod to work on my forced landings again and I think I've started to turn the corner on them.
Cloud base was quite low so we couldn't climb above 2000 feet. Finally started to have some success with these - previously I had been too concerned with sticking to the rote script - the trick is that there is no script, an engine failure is forced upon you and you have to improvise a landing pretty damn quick. So you find a field real quick, set up for best glide, check the obvious reasons for engine failure, all the while thinking about your planned entry to the field in the middle of nowhere, make a mayday, brief your passengers, circle the field and get ready to land on it. Every forced landing is different. It's always a different field, you're always in a different position, different height, so it's a matter of making it up on the fly, and I started to get into the swing of it.
Just to make it all very interesting Rod took away the yoke as we were over Prospect, so I had to fly the approach down to 300 feet using only rudders, throttle and trim. We don't need no steenking ailerons!!!!
So it was a good session, and when I got back to the school all the instructors were giddy and in a good mood, for no apparent reason.
Friday 12th November 2004 - 2.4H TT53.2H - Tailwheel Endorsement - For a change of pace I followed Rod's suggestion and went off to Camden to get a tailwheel endorsement, enabling me to fly aircraft with a tailwheel and also increasing my skill level, especially with the rudder. Jim Drinnan would be taking me up to drill me in how to handle the Citabria, a neat little aircraft that weighs bugger all and has a nice big engine. One of the first things Jim asked me was,
"Have you ever done a loop before?"
The Citabria is a fully aerobatic aircraft and the one we were taking was brand new, less than 100 hours on the clock. As I sit here and write this I can still smell that new aircraft smell, which is just like new car smell, if you're wondering.
After making sure I knew how to make turns and recover from a stall, it was into the loop. 3,500 feet, nose over to pick up speed then haul back on the stick and hold your head back to see the ground appear above your head, ease back on the stick, then back on the throttle and haul back on the stick again and ease the power back in again, ideally at the height you started with. Then a barrel roll and it was back to the circuit to learn the business at hand - landing and taking off with an aircraft with a wheel at the back instead of the front, or as Jim called it, A real aircraft.
First with three point landings, round again, and again, and again. I don't know how many circuits we did but it was a lot more than I have ever done in an hour at Bankstown. I was starting to get the hang of it and back in for a quick break, some water, and a chat about how things went. Felt pretty good and Jim said I was doing well. Rod's constant tapping on the rudder pedals must have sunk in.
Out again, some more loops and then some wing overs and back to the circuit. At first I was a bit disoriented from all the loops. I didn't feel like I was going to throw up, just a little light headed. The G-forces are something to be experienced - I could even feel my earlobes getting heavier, which is a very strange sensation. Once I recovered, more landings, some good, some awful, then onto the dirt. Tailwheel aircraft love the dirt. Back to the hangar for some sausages.
Jim parked it nice and close for some shade under the wing. Lunch hit a sorely needed spot but I was worried that more aerobatics might make the sausages make an unwelcome reappearance, so it was straight into circuits. The fatigue, the effort, the sensory overload, the slow dehydration were sapping my concentration so we knocked it off early, made a very ordinary landing with a nice big bounce and taxied back.
Tuesday 16th November 2004 - 0.3H TT53.5H - Practice forced landings - I was supposed to take an aircraft out to the training area for practice forced landings today, but instead I got my first aborted takeoff. The first aircraft I was to take was good 'ole WSS, but it had a depressed front oleo strut, so it was swapped with another aircraft, WWM. Uneventful start up and taxi out.
Lined up on 11 left and applied full power. Watched the RPM climb to 2200 - and stay there. Seems low. Hmmm. Watch it a bit longer. No change. Do I go or not? RPM seems a little low. What am I debating here? If I'm in two minds I should abort and have another think about it. Power off, brake gently and exit, report to the tower aborted takeoff.
The above paragraph took no more than about 5-10 seconds, but at the time it seemed to take about 30 seconds. Funny how much time I had to think about the whole thing. Taxi over to the run up bay. Check Carb heat off, check mixture fully rich, check fuel on, check primer locked, check pressures and temperatures, Run the engine up to full power with the brakes straining, lean over and check the RPM counter - 2250RPM. Power back down.
Check the maintenance release again. Nothing mentioned. Check the flight manual - nothing unusual. What's this? This is my laminated GFPT radio reference card! I lost this about six months ago and it's been sitting in this flight manual since then. Odd.
Taxi back and shut down. Informed school of aborted take off and reasons why. Told that aircraft has a new prop.
Satisfied I made the right decision. Also satisfied if I had been informed to expect a low static RPM prior to take off I would have continued with it.
Wednesday 17th November 2004 - 1.1H TT54.6H - Tobago familiarisation - graduating to a new aircraft, more suited to long range flights. The Socata Tobago, a French plane with quite a long range and a fair bit bigger than either the Cessna 152 or the Citabria. It's nickname is the Toboggan, which is another name for sled. Coincidence?
It might have the range but this thing flies like a sled - heavy on the controls, sluggish to change to direction, glides like a malformed brick - or perhaps I've just been spoilt with the nippy 152 and agile Citabria. The interior is nice, though - it reminded me of a military cockpit - I'll take a photo next time to see more clearly. At least you can tell it once had a nice interior, probably 20 years ago. Looking slightly tatty now from being used and abused, ridden hard and put away sweaty.
The visibility in this thing is outstanding. The low wing and glass 'gull wing' doors gave me a much better view than I was used to.
It lands pretty nicely, too. The low wing gives more ground effect which cushions nicely on touch down. The downside is that your approach speed must be spot on. Come in too fast and you'll float all the way to the end of the runway.
To illustrate what a quirky little thing it is, the stall warning sounds like a phone ringing. *Ring ring* "Bonjour? Que c'est mon stalle appelle?"
Yes, I know that the previous French sentence isn't correct, but it's funnier that way, alright? Now quit emailing me.
Friday 19th November 2004 - 2.0H TT56.6H - Tailwheel endorsement - Camden again on the Citabria, which is a very different aircraft to the Tobago. Forgot to plug in my headset again. Lately I've been worried that I might be losing my hearing. I really have to strain to understand what the hell is being said on the radio. I've been saying "say again?" a lot recently. Jim solved the mystery by turning up the volume on my headset. Suddenly everything became loud and clear again - I've been flying for Christ knows how long on the lowest volume setting. D'oh!
Did well - my best ever crosswind landing, settling down gently on the upwind main and tail wheels, leaving the downwind main wheel up the air for what seemed like ages, then gently allowing it to settle down on the surface, all the while pointing perfectly down the runway - magic. Not perfectly over the centreline, though, which Jim and I worked on for the rest of the session. By the end I was plonking it down on all three points simultaneously, holding the tail down, tracking straight down the runway and watching the white lines zip past under the fuselage. Jim was ready to send me solo but I was pretty tired and dehydrated so we knocked it off for another day. Next week I just have to show the same sort of form then I'm ready to take one out myself.
Friday 26th November 2004 - 2.0H TT58.6H - Tailwheel endorsement - Back to Camden again - this was a real special day. I always take a few circuits to get back into the Citabria, as it has a much lower attitude picture, so the first part of the lesson is always Jim yelling at me to "get the bloody nose down!" Eventually I get the hang of it again and Jim sends me out to solo. Not a bad circuit, final approach a little low and slow, slight crosswind in the flare, upwind main and tail touch first, then the downwind main settles for a very nice landing indeed. Shut down feeling more than a little pleased with myself.
Now I got presented with the opportunity of a lifetime.
"How you you like a couple of circuits in the Tiger Moth," Jim asks me. I didn't need to be told twice. One of the other instructors needed to do a couple of circuits for currency so I got invited into the front seat of this classic old vintage biplane. I even got a little stick time. Strange.
Then some more aerobatics in the Citabria, then circuits on the tarmac instead of the grass strip, and back.
A very satisfying day.
Sunday 28th November 2004 - 0.9H TT59.5H - Tobago circuits - A very hot day indeed and it seemed like everyone's brains were getting a little fried. Everyman and his dog were out in the circuit getting some bump time, mostly C152s but also a Tiger Moth, flat out doing 80 knots and screwing everyone up. Don't get me wrong, I love these old aircraft, but getting stuck behind one in a higher performance aircraft with six other aircraft all doing the same thing gets a little frustrating. I think we did three circuits and didn't even get close to putting the tires on the runway, so off to Hoxton Park we went.
This was almost as bad. Not quite as busy but uncontrolled and people mostly doing their own thing, so better get out of the way, buddy. Climbing off the runway after a touch and go a helicopter announced he was going to operate at 1500 feet, only 200 feet above circuit height. Good-oh, I thought and kept a close eye on him. After we passed him he must have seen us and started freaking out a bit, complaining that we hadn't acknowledged his call. Well, he hadn't acknowledged our calls either. Ok, we're not having any fun or getting anything done out here so we went back to Bankstown. Slotted in behind a C152 and aimed for downwind. The aircraft in front was way over to our right and seemed to be headed right over the runway, which is a little unorthodox to say the least. After the aircraft had passed the runway it did a quick left then a sharp right 180 degree turn and lined up for the runway. First time I've ever seen that done and I hope the last. Now I've got to follow her in so I can make my landing. She does a touch and go and heads off again. I go from expecting a go-around to making a very quick landing. The tower was a little surprised by it all and asked her if she could let them know next time she was going to do that.
On the plus side the Tobago is a real easy aircraft to land. The extra ground effect gives you a small cushion, meaning that my rushed landing at the end turned out lovely.
Friday 3rd December 2004 - 1.0H TT60.5H - tailwheel
circuits - A much cooler day at Camden, didn't take me very long to get back
into the swing of circuits. Jim sent me solo after only 24 minutes.
He'd introduced the use of the flaps on the Citabria which actually make for a
more difficult
landing. Flaps are there to provide extra lift and drag which give you a
bigger margin above the stall and a lower nose attitude in the approach,
both of which are good things. The side effect of the extra lift is that
you must flare and hold off very precisely. Feed in too much back pressure
above the runway and you will balloon upwards. Balloon upwards too much
and you can run out of airspeed, stall, and plummet back to the runway with a
loud bang and crash.
The first couple of circuits without flap went well, then I
introduced the flap. Not too bad. Very acceptable. The next
one, though was a big
bounce, my answer to which was to pour on the coals and go around for another
go. My go around didn't even make the newspaper, which was
disappointing. Back again and a nice one this time. A couple of
aircraft were joining the circuit and my hour was nearly up so I decided to make
this
the last one and shutdown for the day. Lovely circuit, perfect height, accurate
turns, nice speed, crisp radio calls, good approach, power off, flare, hold off.
Then. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. My first kangaroo hop. Not
a big one, only about three feet, if that, and a gentle touch each time, but a
bounce nevertheless. I had a big grin on my face as I taxied back and
shutdown and past a couple of bemused spectators. I just acted like
nothing happened. I blame the bouncy grass strip.
Saturday 18th December 2004 - 2.5H TT63.0H - dual cross country navigation exercise - After passing my PPL exam whilst suffering from food poisoning, I was worried that today's flight would be cancelled, not only due to my ill health but also the preceding days of stormy rain and low cloud. Cloud was forecast but cleared by the time I was due for takeoff.
The flight was from Bankstown, exiting north via the lane of entry to Patonga, then north to Aeropelican, then west to Cessnock. The planning was straightforward and not as difficult as I thought it would be, although admittedly the flight is pretty straightforward. While at the aircraft and waiting for fuel I looked over at runway 29R to see a Decathlon tail dragger start to ground loop. It then looked like the pilot panicked and jammed on the brakes. The tail of the aircraft rose up into the air until the inevitable happened - the prop struck the ground with a node like a sledgehammer on concrete. Rod and I stood there stunned for about 15 seconds before we both realised we were the nearest people to the accident. Pointing at the nearby Police helicopter crew and shouting "Grab them!" he sprinted off in the direction of the stricken aircraft. I bolted towards the police to alert them until it was clear they had the same idea as us. Then there were four of us running across the tarmac towards the pilot - I hadn't seen any movement from the cockpit. When I was about twenty metres away I spotted an airport services vehicle racing along a taxiway - he just beat us to the scene and helped the stunned and shocked pilot out of the aircraft, then bundled him into the cab of the ute. We all kind of looked at each other for a moment then wandered off in our respective directions. The fire engine had showed up and we were clearly surplus and just getting in the way. Obviously the tower could see the whole incident and ordered emergency vehicles to the scene, who, to their credit, got there within five minutes.
"Poor bloke," Rod said. I sympathised also. We've both flown tail wheel aircraft and both know how tricky they can be to taxi and land on a tarmac runway. We finished checking out the aircraft then dialled up the ATIS to hear "Bankstown airport is closed, duration unknown."
I suddenly didn't feel much sympathy for the ham fisted pillock. We sat in the boiling hot sun, sirens wailing in the background and waited for the airport to reopen. It took about half an hour.
We finally took off and headed for Cessnock.
I was surprised by how high the workload was - I had to fly the aeroplane, keep a watch out for other aircraft while picking landmarks on the ground, maintain a navigation log, manage a radio and listening watch. Most difficult to manage to hang on to a pencil. I knew there would be a lot to do, but not this much. I guess it will come easier after time. Found my way to Cessnock without any trouble - lovely visibility. Raced a Twotter to Aeropelican, Rod surprised I knew its nickname. Did some circuits at Cessnock, nice although a little low on final. Must work on that, seem to be doing it too frequently lately. Back to Bankstown and shutdown. Good fun.
Monday 20th December 2004 - 1.3H TT64.3H - tail wheel and aerobatics - Started off with some aerobatics - loops, wingovers and spin recovery. Then back to Camden for tail wheel circuits. Was basically very lazy and let Jim shout instructions while I followed them. No matter, though, I was signed off for tail wheel aircraft. Which means I am allowed to go and practice some more. Does it ever end?
Thursday 30th December 2004 - 1.0H TT65.3H - Basic Instrument Flight - into the simulator for some BIF practice - usual stuff - tracking navaids, watching the dials and keeping them upright. Flubbed the landing at Kingsford Smith and had to listen to the 'you crashed' alarm back to Bankstown.
Thursday 20th January 2005 - 2.2H TT67.5H - NAV2 - Bankstown/Katoomba/Bathurst/Rylstone/Richmond - There was some doubt as to whether or not the aircraft was OK to go and whether the weather would hold. I looked at the storm scope from the Bureau of Meteorology and for the first time ever, it actually had something on it. Southern NSW was a mass of heavy rain and lightning strikes. The trend was heading northward - right along my intended flight path. It turned out the aircraft was ok to take - but firstly we had to get the port oleo strut pumped full of nitrogen, and also the transponder was U/S, which precluded flight through controlled airspace, which was the main point of the flight. Never mind though, it was almost a month since I'd flown, so I needed the practice, also I wanted to get a look at some bad weather up close.
I checked out the aircraft and found it to be lopsided - the port wheel strut was sagging right at the bottom of its travel, so the first port of call was the engineer to get it pumped up. Apart from the danger of landing with no travel on the undercarriage suspension, it was bloody difficult to taxi. After the engineer pumped the strut up to the correct level using the TLAR method (that looks about right) we taxied out to make for Bathurst. I could see massive anvil heads of cumulo-nimbus in the sky to the south and west.
The weather guessers had got the wind wrong, which was not surprising given the amount of convective activity, but I made it to Katoomba ok. Katoomba has a navigational beacon, an NDB, but at 6,500 feet you can only pick it up on your navigation radio when you are virtually overhead. In fact, I saw it with my eyes before the ADF needle turned, so really it was no help at all. Then on to Bathurst.
Turning to the new heading I could see a mass of grey cloud, boiling and swirling cumulus, dark steaks of rain falling out of the bottom of it and lightning shooting down from the leading edge of the thing. We carried on and I could navigate by pilotage pretty well - comparing the map to the ground below - no problem at all. By the time we were abeam Oberon it was clear from what we could see and by the calls the RPT aircraft were making that this was some pretty nasty weather - if Virgin and Qantas were diverting around it I was pretty sure I didn't want to be flying into it, especially as the bulk of it was centred over Bathurst. So back we went.
Rod put me under the hood and made me turn the aircraft through 360 degrees then off to the southwest, all the while giving me a commentary of how nasty the weather looked behind us. It was travelling as fast as we were, so we would pretty much be racing it back to Bankstown with maybe a half hour to spare. But first, a practice engine failure then a touch and go at Hoxton Park, both of which were ok.
The entry into Bankstown was sloppy and Rod wanted to see a short field approach. The storm was just starting to catch up with us at this stage and it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain straight and level flight. As I was on final we had a wing drop - no due to a stall as we had plenty of airspeed but I had to feed more and more right aileron to keep the wings level until - clunk! No more aileron! Luckily we didn't need any more but I should have used rudder to pick the wing up. No short field approach today. Over the river we got some bad windshear, losing 20 knots and about 100 feet in the space of a few seconds. Large dose of power and nose down to get back up on the glide path. Passing over the threshold I started to flare for landing and pulled the power - then it was like we fell into a hole - the aircraft just dropped out of the sky. I should have been awake for it but I think my concentration was drained by the longish flight. I groaned out loud and we thumped down hard, but straight onto the runway for the worst landing I have ever made.
Mammatus clouds - these mean turbulence, windshear, up/downdraughts
Friday 28th January 2005 - 1.0H TT68.5H - Circuits - After my shocking landing on Thursday I decided some remedial circuit training was called for. As it was more than 90 days since I last flew a C152 I needed to take an instructor for a a couple of circuits before I could toddle out solo. I turned up at Bankstown and asked for Luke Felsch. Unfortunately the instructors name was Steven Felsch, I think Luke used to play for St George. Anyway, the initial confusion out of the way, we took WWM out and made our way round the circuit. The tower indicated that there was a towering cumulus to the west and rain showers in the area. My first landing was not real good. I think I spotted the deck and forgot to flare but the next two circuits were pretty darn good. Steve reckoned it was good enough and said to make it a full stop. The tower offered me runway centre, so I said "we'll take centre," manoeuvred hard to line up, nice landing, taxied back and tied her down.
Next I took XGB out for some solo circuits. The nose wheel steering had gone south at some point and using full rudder deflection resulted in a slow and vague edging left or right, but differential braking did the job pretty well instead. The intercom microphone level was up so high as to allow me to hear a mouse fart in the cockpit and also to practice my Captain's Radio Voice. If the mike sensitivity is very high it allows you to speak very softly and also very deeply over the radio, like a Qantas Captain announcing one's arrival into Singapore.
Rod gave me instructions to make it a full stop and come back in if rain showers hit the aerodrome . Pretty non eventful circuits, but I kept a close watch on the rain showers which were passing west to east, south of the aerodrome. They edged closer each circuit until the windscreen was spattered with rain and cloud passed underneath me on the downwind leg. So, full stop, request northern side and shut down.
This was the most fun I'd had flying for quite a while. I was flying a nice, easy, simple aircraft, in smooth conditions, doing circuits, which I always find fun. There was no real pressure to perform several new tasks all at the same time, as with navigation training.
Just the zen concentration of forgetting and letting go. Take off, circuit, land. Repeat.
Thursday 3rd February 2005 - 3.3H TT70.8H - NAV2 - Bankstown/Katoomba/Bathurst/Rylstone/Richmond - Not a cloud in the sky at Bankstown - Rod described it as severe VMC. I'd planned this route a few weeks earlier, run it in the simulator and pored over the map repeatedly, so I knew it was well as I could without actually flying it.
I checked out the aircraft and found it to be fine this time - except for almost empty fuel tanks - I dialled up Mobil on the radio, sent them to the southern side to refuel me, remembered I'm actually on the NORTHERN side and corrected myself.
I found Hoxton Park first time this time - I added an extra line on my flight plan with two headings to fly depending on whether I left via 11 or 29 and it worked pretty well, so I think I'll continue with that idea. The aircraft I was in had an unserviceable ADF, so it was dead reckoning and pilotage to Katoomba. Found that ok, then off to Bathurst. Rod put the hood on me and tried to get me lost. Whilst under the hood I had the distinct feeling we were in a turn, but I shook my head and obeyed the instruments. When the hood came off I saw a lovely big lake, but misidentified it and learnt a valuable lesson - compare the orientation of the features you are checking against the map.
Into Bathurst for some touch and goes. The conditions here were very challenging - gusty, variable winds, thermals, turbulence, throwing the aircraft about in all three dimensions. The Tobago is tricky in that it seems to want to 'tip over,' once a bank starts, it wants to continue. You've got to catch it, stop it, then wrench it back level again whereupon it wants to do the same thing the other way. A bit lacking in lateral stability. I kept bumping the top of my head against the canopy as well. Rod is a fair bit taller than me so it was effecting him even worse, a stream of angry comments emanated from the right seat while I tried not to laugh. A Warrior tried to join crosswind at the same time as we were turning crosswind. A thermal over the runway tossed us from 50 feet to 300 feet in only a few seconds.
Off to Rylstone. Found Rylstone ok and proceeded to do a precautionary search and landing. The conditions here weren't quite as bad, but still quite challenging. I told Rod I doubted my ability to land in these conditions and that if I was alone I wouldn't attempt it. I could see the wind sock vertical and swinging a good 60 degrees. Apparently the windsock is quite light, though, so it wasn't a true indication of what the wind was doing. Precautionary circuits, panpan, pax brief, finals then go around and off to Richmond next.
The terrain between Rylstone and Richmond is tricky because it all looks the same - it's almost impossible to pinpoint exactly where you are because it's all just ridges and valleys and all of them covered with bush. No towns, no roads, no power lines, no large bodies of water.
"Sydney Terminal, Bravo X-Ray Victor, transit details."
"Bravo X-Ray Victor, Sydney Terminal, say again?"
"Sydney Terminal, Bravo X-Ray Victor, transit details."
"Bravo X-Ray Victor, suggest you contact Flightwatch to give them your updated flightplan details."
I looked quizzically at Rod. Why was this controller not understanding my request to pass transit details? Rod took over the radio for me and made it clear to the controller that we would be transiting Richmond airspace and would need airways clearance, please. I think a bit of a problem was another company aircraft in the area, Bravo X-Ray Juliet. She told us to contact Sydney Approach at 35 miles DME, which means we should contact the next controller when we were 35 miles away from Sydney International. How we were supposed to know this is beyond me as looking down all I could see was trees. DME, or Distance Measuring Equipment, compares radio signals sent by a transmitter and can work out your distance from the transmitter and usually your speed to/from it. A GPS using the direct-to function would have told me exactly how far away I was from Kingsford smith, probably accurate to 15 meters. The aircraft we were flying is fitted with neither DME nor GPS. Even the ADF was on the blink. All this information was entered in the flightplan I had lodged before taking off. Sometimes I wonder where the details in the flightplan go. I reckon she was either flat out on another frequency or new to the job, but who am I to judge? No one, that's who.
Alright, we contacted Sydney Approach who fired off a clearance like a race caller at Randwick, which we were then expected to read back. Clearly he was used to dealing with Qantas this and Virgin that because it took us more than one go to read the clearance back correctly.
Approach to Bankstown over Prospect and I'm back in familiar territory. Rod wanted a short field landing but a hole opened underneath us on late final and I was forced to open the throttles to get over the threshold. I apologised to him that there was no short fielder today, but he was happier that we didn't end up in the grass. This was my longest flight to date by quite a bit and I was badly dehydrated by the end of it. I was just too busy during to take a drink.
Thursday 10th March 2005 - 1.5H TT72.3H - NAV3 - Bankstown/Goulburn/Wollongong/Wedderburn - Arrived at Bankstown with plenty of time to plan and prepare for my flight. The weather was looking dodgy first thing, the forecast not good, the satellite picture and synoptic chart showed bad weather and more behind it. Soon after arriving at Bankstown a cold front carrying heavy rain swept over the aerodrome. The bureau of meteorology chart showed a large trough sweeping across NSW. So probably no flying.
But. After the initial front had passed, the clouds parted and the sky was clearing, if not exactly sunny. CPL students around me discussed whether they would have a look at the weather and how they were going to wriggle out of flying. Various instructors they accosted barked at them for being wimps and afraid of some puffy white clouds and a bit of rain. I had to smile to myself, because I think the main reason instructors do that is to force the students to make their own decisions.
Rod came to see how I was getting on with the planning. The updated weather forecast came out and it was no better. Rod had to change the plugs on a 152 so I took the opportunity to tag along and sniff the air - a large bank of cloud to the south, but that was about it. Then I rang a fella at Goulburn council (who own the aerodrome we were flying to.)
"How's the weather there, mate?"
"Oh, it's beautiful and sunny, mate."
"Much wind?"
"Very light."
That swung my decision. If it was clear down south (where the weather was coming from) then it would probably be ok to fly. Good to go, print the weather, lodge the flight plan, grab the gear and pre-flight the aircraft. Get myself sorted, taxi the Tobago out with Rod, run up then sit at the holding point. The ATIS information had changed from Kilo while I was taxiing out.
"Bankstown Tower, Tobago bravo foxtrot india is ready at runway one one left for a downwind departure, received..."
Think, Chris. What is the letter after K? Take a punt.
"Received...Juliet?"
Nope that's the letter before. Tower sorted me out and we took off. Rod later had problems with his maths and complained he had forgotten how to count.
"That's ok," I said, "I've forgotten the alphabet."
Rod asks me for my printout of the weather. I hand him some sheets of A4 paper.
"What the hell is this?" he asks me. It sure ain't the weather. I'm buggered if I know what I printed out.
The weather is getting murkier and darker - the cloud base formed a dark band that sloped away to the south, creating a false horizon. Past Camden, with the cloud base about 2700 feet and the ground height about 2200 feet I decided to call it a day - there was clearly no safe way through to Goulburn while remaining in VMC, at least not this way. 180 degree turn and back to Bankstown.
Stiff crosswind coming in to Bankstown - the Tobago is nice in this respect as it is quite steady in a crosswind. I flared, dropped the upwind wing to stay over the centreline, kicked the rudder to straighten up and touched down nicely.
Back in the office we both had a chuckle over the guy at Goulburn. Beautiful and sunny, mate. Yeah right.
Wednesday 6th April - 2.0H TT74.3H - NAV3 - Bankstown/Goulburn/Wollongong/Wedderburn - Three days of low overcasts and steady rain preceded my flight. I don't mind when the weather is bad, I'd prefer it to be good, but at least I know one way or the other what I'll be doing that day. It irritates, me, though, when the weather can't make up it's mind what it wants to do, or threatens to change in a hurry. Today was good, though, clearing through the morning, but forecast to go downhill later tonight.
Arrived at Basair to find the planning computers had problems and refused to boot up. I realised how dependant I had become on computers for my briefings and to lodge my flight plans. I sorted out what I could, got a weather briefing and Notams for all of NSW off the central office computer, found a desk and got to work. The CPL students around me discussed the problems they were having with their circuits while I furiously scribbled and sorted out the arithmetic problems on the flight plan, performance charts and weight /balance in front of me. Eventually everything was printed off, calculated, written down, submitted and ready to go. Wandered out to pre-flight the aircraft, all aircraft have to be chained, locked or otherwise made secure under the governments new aviation security laws which came into effect on the 10th March. This is an absolute joke and no one can work out what the purpose of the new laws are, although they are ostensibly anti-terrorism laws. Like I'm going to hijack a Cessna and plough it into an office block, thereby breaking a window. Found a large puddle of hydraulic fluid on the nose wheel, discussed it with Rod and checked the maintenance release and saw the seals had only been replaced the week previous. Rod and I nodded sagely and agreed the shaft was probably pitted, agreed to be careful when landing and agreed that once we were flying we wouldn't notice the fluid leak.
Taxied out to runway 29 and asked for a downwind departure. Tower asked me if I meant an upwind departure. Uhh, yeah, guy, sorry bout that. As usual I was overwhelmed by the sheer workload in the first ten minutes and Rod critiqued me on it later. Found Hoxton Park ok (which isn't too hard,) then found Camden (slightly harder,) then the Oaks (grass strip, even harder.) I have trouble spotting the things on the ground because I keep navigating right over them - I should pass them slightly to my left so I can keep them in sight.
Rod put the hood on me and we headed off for Bindook, which is just a navigation beacon on a hill in the middle of bloody nowhere. I couldn't see out the cockpit, all I could see were the instruments, so I concentrated on holding height and heading and keeping a close eye on the time. When we reached my estimated time over Bindook Rod asked me to turn toward Taralga, a tiny township on the other side of the range, not much more than a yellow dot on the map. I hadn't planned for Taralga so it was just a case of drawing a line on the map, measuring the distance with a pencil, guesstimating the heading, calculating a time to travel and then focussing on holding heading and height again. Simple. When I reckoned we had gone far enough I took the hood off and looked around outside to see where I was. I spotted the wind farm off in the distance ahead, where it should be, the ranges behind me where they should be, the road underneath me where it should be and after a bit of prompting I saw Taralga behind my left wing. Not bad for 30 minutes flying without seeing the ground. After the flight Rod pointed out I had made a procedural error by not informing Flightwatch of our revised flight plan. We turned for Bundanoon and then for Wollongong. The clouds parted wide enough for me to slip through the valley, over the escarpment and down to Wollongong aerodrome. I made my radio calls to a deafening silence.
Normally there's a device called the ARFU, which beeps or a recorded voice comes on to tell you which frequency you are using. Nothing. We had a look at the runway being upgraded, and I am unreliably informed that the tender for upgrading the runway is still being decided. Hmmm. Round we went, over the railway station, forgot my PUFF-C checks and we were away. Afterwards we discovered there was an intermittent problem with my push-to-talk switch, and none of the calls I had made had worked, although Rod's calls seem to have worked fine.
Threaded the clouds and back to Bankstown. Nearly busted controlled airspace, orbited to below Class C, followed the highway, finally spotted 2RN, slotted in behind a Cessna and in front of another, made a fast, long, floating landing on 29R and taxied back. I was absolutely drained and gutted by the time I was on approach, hence the fast landing. Making a go-around on the arrivals/departures runway is considered very poor form.
Very satisfying. Although I made errors along the way they were mostly to do with my lack of recency and not keeping up with my airborne tasks, all stuff I can work on.
Thursday 14th April 2005 – 2.4H TT76.7H – NAV4 - Bankstown/Cessnock/Bankstown - Lovely day – Rod described it as “severe VMC.” Pilot joke. As usual, first thing was to get the head down and get to work.
People think pilots just turn up, kick the tyres, light the fires and zoom off into the wild blue yonder. The only analogy they have is driving a car, so it’s not surprising people think that way. There is actually quite a lot of hard work, planning and preparation (some of it involving mathematics) before you can wander out and give the wheels a punt. It usually takes me about an hour and a half of work for every hour I fly. Of, course, that all gets done before any passengers turn up and you never tell them about it, so they are blissfully unaware of the pencil and head scratching that goes on at the surplus school desk.
So after mucho pencil scratchings, eraser rubbings, pencil rescratchings, calculator tappings, whiz-wheel spinnings, keyboard punchings, etc, I had something that looked like a flight plan.
I wandered out to good old WSS and began a pre flight inspection. Snag. Transponder listed as US on the maintenance release. This would be a problem as I needed a working transponder to go through controlled airspace. I asked Rod what he thought, he said it had been working two days earlier and if it was working we would just stay outside controlled airspace. My thoughts exactly.
Taxied out, trundled down the runway, took off and headed for Parramatta. As usual I was trying to catch up for the first ten minutes until I got into the swing of things. Called up Sydney Radar and asked them to check on the transponder. Nada. Not a squawk out of the little black box.
Off to Aeroduck, then to Cessnock, fluffed my first circuit there, went round again and made a successful circuit, touch and go then off to Mount McQuoid. Rod pulled the power off halfway there, made a practice forced landing. This one felt, not relaxed, but I definitely felt in control of the whole thing. I felt I had plenty of time to get everything done – including miming the CMF-FMOST checks. I also reckon if it had been a real situation I would have got down alright. Initially I picked the wrong direction for the wind, but this was based on my (wrong) assumption that there was nil wind.
After the practice forced landing, I was unsure of my position, so off we went to find Mt McQuoid by dead reckoning. No big dramas. There it is. Diversion to Wisemans Ferry. After some nervous moments found it ok. Again I forgot to contact Flightwatch to advise of an amended flight plan. Back to Bankstown, up the lane of entry, Rod asks for a short field landing. The landing was a little ropey, not hard, just a little sideways but definitely short – I had to add some throttle to get to the first taxiway.
I felt pretty good about it all. Most things I did ok, even if not on the first attempt. Rod prompted me on a few things, but I didn’t do too badly. I reckon I’m nearly ready for my first cross country solo flight.
I nearly forgot to cancel SARTIME. When I rang them up, the lady who answered the phone politely told me not to nominate a SARTIME more than 12 hours in the future – I had put local time instead of UTC. D’oh! Would have been a long wait if the engine had quit.
Wednesday 27th April 2005 - 1.4H TT78.1H – Harbour Orbits - Bankstown/Harbour Bridge - last nav flight I misread my watch, which is a big no-no for accurate navigation, so before I hit the flight school I headed to the pilot shop and bought a digital clock I could attach to my nav board. That way I would have no excuse for misreading the time. There were two clocks available and experience told me to buy the simplest one. I set the time and put the thing in my bag, feeling rather pleased with myself. But there’s a problem with the damn thing (isn’t there always?) The buttons on the front used to adjust the time protrude, so as soon I picked up my flight bag I heard a loud beeping noise, which I correctly identified as the clock readjusting its time according to the random bumping of the buttons on the front, so now I have to rig up some sort of cover over the buttons to stop the time being changed between uses. Sigh.
An abbreviated flight plan was all that was necessary as the primary means of navigation was going to be eyes out the window and tracking to visual features (pilotage,) rather than holding headings and times (dead reckoning.)
We taxied out the 152, struggled with some fouled plugs (it’s always the lower plugs on the right magneto with Lycoming IO-240s,) lined up and readied for takeoff. The ATIS had warned of occasional downwind and I think we struck this just after rotation. Rod later said it felt like someone had raised the flaps. It didn’t help that we were attempting a practise short field takeoff and subsequently our airspeed was low, in retrospect too low for the conditions. The lift disappeared from under the aircraft and I could feel the speed wash right off at about 30 feet. I lowered the nose to prevent a stall, we sank back down into ground effect, gently (!) kissed the runway and wobbled airborne again for possibly my worst takeoff to date. I handled it ok, though (I’m writing this aren’t I?) so I’ll chalk that one up to experience. Next time I’m lowering the nose, throttle off and landing.
Found Hornsby with it’s distinctive railway sheds, turned out towards Long Reef and made the crispest radio call you have ever heard. I imagined the Qantas and Virgin Blue pilots listening on in awe of my flawless technique. Radio technique is weird in that it seems to be 10% technical, 90% confidence. The more confidence you have in talking over the radio, the better your calls seem to be, which in turn improves your technique. Strange.
Rod and I both crossed our fingers waiting to find out if our transponder was working or not. Temperamental things they are, so Rod shook a fist at it and threatened to tear it out and chuck it into the sea if it didn’t work.
“Hotel Charlie Echo, Sydney Terminal, confirm altitude,” came the call from the controller.
“Sydney terminal, Hotel Charlie Echo, altitude is two thousand five hundred feet.”
“Hotel Charlie Echo, identified, contact Sydney departures on 123.0 at Long Reef for clearance”
“123.0 at Long Reef, Hotel, Char-lie, Echo!” Success! A triumphant, sing-song read back as we were all ready to fly over Sydney Harbour.
If you’re a pilot, or even if you aren’t a pilot, if you are visiting Sydney, then beg, borrow or steal a ride in a light aircraft to fly over Sydney Harbour. It’s awesome. The workload isn’t that high, you can get some good documents from CASA to direct you and anyone at the local flying schools will help you to do it. We buzzed the bridge at 1,500 feet for a little while I concentrated on holding altitude – this is important as seaplanes and helicopters we doing their own thing at 1,000 feet, while heavy jet traffic were making their approaches to Sydney airport a couple of thousand feet above. It’s also important to remain north of the southern shore (the CBD) and east of the harbour bridge. Violate any of these rules and you will be politely, but firmly, asked to leave controlled airspace.
Now. I always have to catch a snag about two thirds into these posts, don’t I? I had planned and lodged a flight plan direct to Bankstown via Gladesville, Ryde Bridge and Parramatta. I knew this route was unlikely to be approved by the controllers but hope springs eternal, and my intention was really to have the route declined, so I could demonstrate that I knew how to fly a diversion, contact Flightwatch, etc. We got the distinct impression as we orbited the harbour though, we might be granted permission to fly direct to Bankstown. Jet traffic seemed to be at a real lull just as we were about to head for home. Unfortunately, it was shift change time at Sydney Tower and the new bloke with the North American accent asked us to hold east of Rushcutters Bay. Rushcutters Bay, by the way, is not marked on aeronautical charts, but I knew roughly were it was, headed over there and asked it he was happy where I was. I also told him that I was done with orbits and I was ready for my planned route to Bankstown via Gladesville whenever you are, Sir. He told me that the planned route would not be available so we headed back out to Long Reef and out of controlled airspace. I’ve heard the North American a few times and got the distinct impression he was efficient, helpful up to a point and not prepared to put up with any bull, like a Cessna 152 interrupting the approach of Qantas 32 heavy from Singapore so he can get back to Bankstown 15 minutes earlier.
Barrenjoey Head, Brooklyn Bridge, Berowra on the left hand side, Galston Substation on the ride hand side, rifle range on the left hand side, Round Corner strobe underneath, descend abeam the brickworks, track for Prospect Reservoir, straight in approach to Bankstown. Rod once again asked for a short field approach, but with a stiff and shifting crosswind it was going to be tricky. I neglected to loosen the throttle friction, so I was more fighting the throttle than landing the aircraft, so we landed in 500m instead of 250m.
All in all, it was a good day. Enjoyable, memorable, educational, edifying. I’ve proven myself worthy of being sent for my cross country solo and I feel ready.
Wednesday 19th May 2005 - 1.2H TT79.3H – Bankstown Circuits - Bad weather or mechanical gripes have cancelled my last 3 flights so I wasn't surprised when bad wether cancelled this one, too. Typical Sydney early winter weather, mostly fine, but when the rain turns up it stays for a week. The weather this time was hanging around off the coast and threatening to move inland. My route was coastal, so not ideal for a first cross country solo, although Bankstown's weather was reasonably clear for the moment, with showers forecast. With this in mind, I wanted to get out to Bankstown anyway and knock out some circuits, blow the cobwebs away. I want to go into my cross country solo confident and competent. I asked Rod if I could come out instead to do some circuits and he gave me the nod.
JIW was my aeroplane for the day. She's a bit ratty, a bit eager to gripe, but with a strong engine. The plugs are prone to fouling but that's nothing new. I walked around and did my pre-flight before I sat down in the left hand seat. Problem. I could barely see over the cowling. The seats on JIW are particular low. Next time, bring a cushion.
Engine starts first time and I taxi out to do my run up then take off. Get through the run up after clearing the fouled plugs, then taxi up the non-active 18 runway and hold short of 11 centre. I'm just about to tell the tower I'm ready when;
"All stations taxying out, we're just about to change the runway direction to 29."
Bloody hell, he couldn't have timed that worse. So now I have to taxi all the way to the opposite corner of the aerodrome to line up on 29 left. Great. In retrospect I could asked for permission to cross centre and right. Would have cut about two minutes off the taxi time. I found the run up bay for 29 left and completed my run up. Just as I was finished the tower changed the runway direction to 29. This caused some anxious moments for me as I started to think he was going to change his mind again and I would have to taxi all the way back to 11.
Variable crosswind present, take off ok and find that the lower seat position is taking some getting used to. Normally in the climb I can see some ground in the corners of the windscreen. Not today - all I can see is sky and it makes me think the attitude is too high and I must be close to stalling. Check the airspeed indicator - nope, in fact it's only 75 knots and I can climb more steeply that I already am.
I find my way onto the downwind leg and lo and behold - the tower changes the circuit direction back to 11. They give me instructions to reverse my course and go the other way downwind. That's a snap, actually, easier than taxying all the way around Bankstown.
The first few circuits are a bit ropey and the landings not much better. It takes me a while to remember all the procedures but gradually they come back. Landing highlights include a decent bounce and a half hearted balloon. I mix flapless approaches with full flap, but I'm not keen to include short fielders due to the variable wind conditions, which feature an occasional downwind.
LBJ (another C152 from the same school) joins the circuit ahead of me and has two onboard, so it can't climb as well as I can nor accelerate as quickly. Add to that the wide and long downwind flown by the pilot and now my main concern is to keep my speed down to maintain separation.
"JIW, declare your intentions."
Oops, I was so concerned with not running into the back of LBJ on downwind, I forgot to give a downwind call to the tower.
"JIW, on final for touch and go, sorry I missed the downwind call."
No biggie. The tower wasn't miffed. In the scheme of things it's not a big mistake, just a gentle reminder.
All in all, it was another good session. The weather stayed pleasant enough and found my groove again. Now all I need is a pillow and blue skies and I'm ready for my cross country solo.
Saturday 4th June 2005 - 1.8H TT81.2H – Bankstown/Hoxton Park/Camden/Mittagong/Wollongong/Wedderburn/Bankstown – Since it had been so long since my previous Navex, I was required to take another dual nav flight before I went solo. Just as well I did, too, ‘cos I was rusty as hell. Having all my aviation paraphernalia packed up ready to move house didn’t help either.
We started with a departure into controlled airspace – I kind of liked this. We got some fairly casual handling by the ATS units (not giving us assigned headings, not handing off until way too late) but on the whole, a good experience. That was about the only good thing I could say for the flight. My aircraft handling skills are generally quite good. I held headings, altitudes, etc, quite well, I can read the map pretty well and compare it to the ground ok. I’m still a little overwhelmed by the workload and my brain gets lazy, so when Rod says “where are we?” I discover I’ve been kinda switched off for the last minute or so. Light aircraft travel roughly four kilometres every minute, so that kind of lax thinking is inexcusable.
I was slow in updating the log, I was slow in responding to the radio, I couldn’t do the mental gymnastics necessary to make a circuit entry, I was slow in planning descents – I was behind the aircraft.
A truism in aviation is – never fly an aeroplane anywhere you haven’t already been in your head five minutes earlier. Or something like that.
Rod and I both agreed I need another dual nav before going solo.
Sunday 7th August 2005 - 2.3H TT83.5H – Bankstown/Aeropelican/Cessnock/The Entrance/Bankstown – Moving house, the weather and various maintenance issues got in the way of me flying for quite a while. So long that I was worried how rusty I would be. Knowing this I spent a good deal of time studying and preparing for the flight. I managed to locate and unpack all my aviation manuals, flew the course on my simulator , drew a mud map and even wrote out a likely scenario for the flight beforehand. I think it must have paid off because I felt confidant going in to Bankstown. Most of my planning was done before I got to Basair, it was just a matter of putting the final touches on the flight plan, getting my gear in order, grabbing the keys and heading out.
I've started performing a briefing in the run up bay prior to taking off - just like a professional crew would do. Jim Drinnan at Curtis Aviation introduced me to it, Rod encouraged and expanded upon it and it seems to be paying dividends. The busiest part of the flight is the first ten minutes or so, from entering the runway to top of climb. Get behind at this stage and you are likely to miss something critical or play catch-up for the next half an hour. Talking through the plan for the first ten minutes and actions in the event of an emergency really helps to maintain focus. We lined up and took off. I still missed a few things but they weren't show stoppers and leave me room for improvement.
Things seemed to be going well - I was busy, but not too busy, I could (just) cope with the workload, so I thing I'm getting on top of things. Out along the lane of entry (lane of exit?) to Aeropelican, gave some vintage radio calls - clear, crisp, spot on. The visibility was brilliant so I had no problems navigating, the conditions were smooth so I held altitude and heading pretty well, although still room for improvement there. Rod prompted me for a few things at various times. He has a knack of being able to judge when you are starting to get complacent or lazy and asking you a few questions you should have already asked yourself.
Couple of circuits at Cessnock - not brilliant but acceptable in slightly tricky conditions, a westerly blowing a crosswind ninety degrees across the strip. It was at a steady strength, though, so not too difficult. Left Cessnock and diverted for The Entrance, then back up the lane of entry to Bankstown, a Comanche racing me into the circuit and touched down for a 'Dam busters' style landing.
Beautiful day - exactly the sort of conditions I could have hoped for, the sort of conditions which made me remember why I love flying so much. It had been a while since I flew a Tobago and it started getting ahead of me a couple of times, but nothing too drastic. Next up is my cross-country solo - and once again it feels just right.
Tuesday 16th August 2005 - 1.1H TT84.6H – Bankstown Circuits – Quick familiarisation with the 152, back to Bankstown circuits again. Not only is it good practice, I also find it good fun. The usual mixed bag of landings, some ok ones, some rather dodgy ones and one outright pearler of a flapless - couldn't quite get into the groove for a short fielder. The sky was as clear as I've seen it, not a cloud in the sky, but the wind was fluky and variable. When I got there it was 230/8kts, then downwind 3kts, then variable 5kts, and towards the end they changed the circuit direction on me. I used to be apprehensive about them doing this to me, but once you've seen it done there's nothing to it. The tower tells you to join downwind in the opposite direction, you do a quick 180 degree turn and there you are - nothing to it. Only one real blue - called myself XGB instead of HCE. Corrected myself (must have confused the poor guy in XGB,) had a quick laugh and moved on. The guy in XGB had the quintessential radio voice - deep and clear and slightly scratchy, dripping with experience. What are you doing in a 152, mate?
Good day - Bankstown was quite busy, four in the circuit and a steady stream of arrivals and departures and helicopters buzzing about underneath. Solo Nav tomorrow, my planning is done (as much as can be without weather.)
Wednesday 17th August 2005 - 2.3H TT86.9H – First Cross Country Solo - Bankstown/Aeropelican/Cessnock/Aeropelican/Bankstown – Lovely clear day, keyed up and prepared. Brief instructions to turn back if I felt dodgy about anything. Trotted out to WSS, my sentimental favourite, get her fueled up, taxied out, gave myself a quick briefing, run up and took off, no problems at all. Turned onto my first heading and climbed to altitude. Had a brief moment of doubt as I couldn't see the aerodrome boundary. I must have been a bit pumped up as it was still a good two mile ahead. Found it, climbed, headed for Parramatta, levelled off and looked ahead. Realised I was still listening to Bankstown and switched frequency to Sydney Radar. I was careful not to stray too far to the east as there is a class C pocket of airspace at 700 ft, identified it ok, steered clear then headed on out to Patonga. Everything going very well.
Found Patonga ok, then Gosford, gave another lovely radio call to Aeropelican, headed out to Aeropelican. Started getting a bit too comfortable so I played the two games Rod likes to play when he sees me getting lazy - the ever popular 'Name That Landmark' and 'Where Would You Go Now?' Highly recommended for pilots of all ages. Made my overflying call at Aeropelican then turned to Cessnock. Looking at Kurri Kurri and thinking, 'now something just ain't quite right.' I got a little bit confused approaching Cessnock and mistook Kurri Kurri for Cessnock. Sorted that out and entered the pattern at Cessnock for three touch and goes. There was a decent westerly crosswind blowing and the usual Cessnock bumpiness caused by the thermals from the farmland and the wind rotoring off the ranges to the west. Two crappy bumps (one with takeoff attempted with full flap,) one half decent bump and then overhead departure back to Aeropelican. Spotted a helicopter off Swansea, had a quick chat to let him know I saw him, he told me he was bound for Cooranbong not above 1500ft, bewdy says I and continues on my merry way. Tracking nicely with a strong tailwind now, descended to 2500ft, saw the bridge east of Brooklyn Bridge, and back up the lane of entry, joined the circuit at Bankstown and proceeded to use almost all of the runway landing.
When you go for your first solo, there is much jubilation and fanfare. Congratulations, old boy, well done and write it in your logbook in red ink. The first solo cross country is a big anticlimax. No welcoming committees, no bouquet of flowers await, just the long walk back to the flight school, albeit on shoes that don't quite touch the ground. I was ready for the flight, well trained, well prepared, confident and motivated, I went out and did it. The result, in retrospect, was never in doubt.